This entire story is a conglomeration of all of the emotes and DMing of a single player dungeon that Cymic was put through. It is the telling of a drug induced trip. Credit to Kamaoe for writing, DMing and expertly ad-libbing in spots were Cymic may have ran off the course. Something really crazy happens at the end and there is an insane twist. Read the entire story that builds up to it.
"Thiz iz your journey."
{Me journey, huh.}
"You will not on thiz world after thiz. If you need help, call for it. The spirit that guidez you will help you."
"Lady Delay father."
He trudged through the snow until his legs burned. Exhaustion was but a thought in the back of his mind. He passed by the lake and watched it as the water shifted in ways he had never imagined before. Like liquid glass. He knew better not to touch it than to risk frostbite.
He finds himself feeling a bit of separation from his body. As though he were outside it, but still inextricably bound to it. The cold of his surroundings fade from his mind as he looks around the familiar landscape through different eyes. Below himself, he feels himself collapse. He watches as his body is slowly buried in the falling snow. That feeling of being tired too much to bear for even his spirit.
Fighting himself to the surface, he took a gasp of bitter air. When he came to he was in the midst of a stormy ocean. Before him a ship flounders, men on the decks fighting against the wind and waves. Indistinct yelling can just be heard through the sound of water and thunder. Cymic swam for the ship. The storm carries him along, a wave slamming him into the side of the ship. He clings to the ship pulling himself up and yanking himself into the mid-deck. Surrounded by cannons. Looking to the staircase up where his men heaved ..and then to the middle of the cannon deck. There was a door standing out of place. He headed downstairs towards the sound of splashing, as if water seeping into the hull.. The storage was filled with gold and riches and as Cymic passes the treasures, he comes to what appears to be a brig. Beyond the bars of the brig, is a watery abyss. As he stares into it, he slowly becomes cognizant of a giant eye staring back at him… He kicks at the bars out of an overwhelming aggressive fear. Attempting to shoo the beast.
“Get.”
He kicks the bars, and they seperate from where he kicked. Water begins to flow in, and a tentacle begins to worm it's way through the hole. Cymic scrambles backward, heading for where he thought the stairs would be. The tentacle pursues, grabbing for his quickly retreating boot.
Cymic wins the roll.
It misses his boot as he scrambles up the stairs. He turns on a heel and heads towards the upper deck.
“Lads! /Lads!/”
There is no response, just the shouts of men trying to fight the storm. And the looming presence of the door in the center of the cannondeck. His shoulder smacks into the door as he made his way for the staircase. He steps onto the deck, glancing around himself. Up on the deck of the ship, there is no one. The shouts abruptly cutting out as he makes his way onto the deck. The sails are loose, ropes whipping in the wind.
He takes a few footsteps backward and lightning fills his gaze. Temporarily blinded .. He stumbles his way back into the lower deck rubbing his eye furiously. In the center of the deck below, the door swings open and shut, a sliver of something behind it. Despite his fear of being all alone on this hell of a brig .. Cymic goes for the nearest cannon. His boot unhitches the wheels and he begins the semi-long process of loading the cannon himself. He orientates it towards the hall .. And glances in between the crack as he rolls the cannon on past. He hitches the wheels again and snags a firestarter. As he had been loading the cannon and making it ready to fire, the tentacle had been making it's way further in. Sensing the movement, the tentacle moves closer to the cannon Cymic is readying
He rolls a 4 out of 5.
He strikes the fuse once, twice, three times. The tentacle looms ever closer. The wet appendage grasps the cannon's muzzle. On the fourth strike, the fuse lights. With an ear shattering boom, the cannon fires into the fleshy appendage. The room becomes soaked in viscera. He unhitches the cannon, letting it loose, before he slipped for the door. His heart was racing. There is a rumble from down below, and what's left of the bloodied appendage vanishes below the deck.
Opening the door, Cymic finds himself in a large, verdant courtyard. The gardens are in the height of spring, and flowers overflow from pots and on vines. In the center of the magnificent garden, is a well. Cymic wipes some sludge from his chin with two fingers and throws it on the stone. .. He steps towards the well, but the architecture reminded him of an old castle of Blackrose. He stumbles through the garden as disorientation muddled his footsteps. At least the floor wasn’t rocking. He approaches the well and leans over the side. It is a stone well, fitting and at home in a rich merchant's home. Peering within, dozens upon dozens of coins line the bottom
He rolls a 19 on perception
As he peers within the well, he slowly becomes cognizent of something moving inside the home surrounding him. From the windows, he can hear a tapping. The figure of a woman looks out at him, tapping on the glass from one of the windows that surrounded the garden. He reaches for his sword. But it was not on his person. Still .. The company of another being drew him near. He carelessly pushes through the bushes, not one to care for the flowers. As he gets closer, he recognizes the face. It was Azariah.. Concern fills the woman's face and she mouths one thing to him
"Run."
Azariah now begins to pound on the window, screaming RUN at him. He squints. It was in his nature to defy the rules. Especially if it was her speaking. He glances around themselves.
“..Wha’ is it?”
As he turns, he does not see her vanish. At the other windows he can see other figures. They all stand in silence at the windows. His vision particularly finds Ayda. His head whips to the window at his right. Fenric.Turning back to face Azariah .. He sees himself. Not as a reflection. He backs up stumbling through the brush. He glances at the windows as he walks away from the vision of himself, looking for more familiar faces. The windows crack, threatening to break. In the windows he can see the faces of those he's cared for. Boetius, Eisa, Ventare, Kam, the best image of his mother his mind could craft. It was the figure of what he's always imagined his mother to look like. He's only got a mental image from what was described to him since he killed her upon birth. His father appeared much younger than he was by now. Probably the same age as Cymic as that was the last he had seen him. His parents look out at him impassively as their windows slowly crumble to dust. In her mirror, Kam tilts her head at him, as though he'd said something. Still, slowly, the windows break.
"Thiz iz your journey."
{Me journey, huh.}
"You will not on thiz world after thiz. If you need help, call for it. The spirit that guidez you will help you."
"Lady Delay father."
[Section I]
"I shrugged off her words as i usuall'eh do. I thought about a lot of things. Where i was, wha' i got myself into. I started ta' feel.. Heavy. And then sleepy."He trudged through the snow until his legs burned. Exhaustion was but a thought in the back of his mind. He passed by the lake and watched it as the water shifted in ways he had never imagined before. Like liquid glass. He knew better not to touch it than to risk frostbite.
He finds himself feeling a bit of separation from his body. As though he were outside it, but still inextricably bound to it. The cold of his surroundings fade from his mind as he looks around the familiar landscape through different eyes. Below himself, he feels himself collapse. He watches as his body is slowly buried in the falling snow. That feeling of being tired too much to bear for even his spirit.
[Section II]
"I had a dream tha' i was all alone. I wished ta' have a soul. Any soul by me side. Anythin' to not feel so alone."Fighting himself to the surface, he took a gasp of bitter air. When he came to he was in the midst of a stormy ocean. Before him a ship flounders, men on the decks fighting against the wind and waves. Indistinct yelling can just be heard through the sound of water and thunder. Cymic swam for the ship. The storm carries him along, a wave slamming him into the side of the ship. He clings to the ship pulling himself up and yanking himself into the mid-deck. Surrounded by cannons. Looking to the staircase up where his men heaved ..and then to the middle of the cannon deck. There was a door standing out of place. He headed downstairs towards the sound of splashing, as if water seeping into the hull.. The storage was filled with gold and riches and as Cymic passes the treasures, he comes to what appears to be a brig. Beyond the bars of the brig, is a watery abyss. As he stares into it, he slowly becomes cognizant of a giant eye staring back at him… He kicks at the bars out of an overwhelming aggressive fear. Attempting to shoo the beast.
“Get.”
He kicks the bars, and they seperate from where he kicked. Water begins to flow in, and a tentacle begins to worm it's way through the hole. Cymic scrambles backward, heading for where he thought the stairs would be. The tentacle pursues, grabbing for his quickly retreating boot.
Cymic wins the roll.
It misses his boot as he scrambles up the stairs. He turns on a heel and heads towards the upper deck.
“Lads! /Lads!/”
There is no response, just the shouts of men trying to fight the storm. And the looming presence of the door in the center of the cannondeck. His shoulder smacks into the door as he made his way for the staircase. He steps onto the deck, glancing around himself. Up on the deck of the ship, there is no one. The shouts abruptly cutting out as he makes his way onto the deck. The sails are loose, ropes whipping in the wind.
He takes a few footsteps backward and lightning fills his gaze. Temporarily blinded .. He stumbles his way back into the lower deck rubbing his eye furiously. In the center of the deck below, the door swings open and shut, a sliver of something behind it. Despite his fear of being all alone on this hell of a brig .. Cymic goes for the nearest cannon. His boot unhitches the wheels and he begins the semi-long process of loading the cannon himself. He orientates it towards the hall .. And glances in between the crack as he rolls the cannon on past. He hitches the wheels again and snags a firestarter. As he had been loading the cannon and making it ready to fire, the tentacle had been making it's way further in. Sensing the movement, the tentacle moves closer to the cannon Cymic is readying
He rolls a 4 out of 5.
He strikes the fuse once, twice, three times. The tentacle looms ever closer. The wet appendage grasps the cannon's muzzle. On the fourth strike, the fuse lights. With an ear shattering boom, the cannon fires into the fleshy appendage. The room becomes soaked in viscera. He unhitches the cannon, letting it loose, before he slipped for the door. His heart was racing. There is a rumble from down below, and what's left of the bloodied appendage vanishes below the deck.
[Section III]
"My wish was granted but. That’s not wha’ i meant."Opening the door, Cymic finds himself in a large, verdant courtyard. The gardens are in the height of spring, and flowers overflow from pots and on vines. In the center of the magnificent garden, is a well. Cymic wipes some sludge from his chin with two fingers and throws it on the stone. .. He steps towards the well, but the architecture reminded him of an old castle of Blackrose. He stumbles through the garden as disorientation muddled his footsteps. At least the floor wasn’t rocking. He approaches the well and leans over the side. It is a stone well, fitting and at home in a rich merchant's home. Peering within, dozens upon dozens of coins line the bottom
He rolls a 19 on perception
As he peers within the well, he slowly becomes cognizent of something moving inside the home surrounding him. From the windows, he can hear a tapping. The figure of a woman looks out at him, tapping on the glass from one of the windows that surrounded the garden. He reaches for his sword. But it was not on his person. Still .. The company of another being drew him near. He carelessly pushes through the bushes, not one to care for the flowers. As he gets closer, he recognizes the face. It was Azariah.. Concern fills the woman's face and she mouths one thing to him
"Run."
Azariah now begins to pound on the window, screaming RUN at him. He squints. It was in his nature to defy the rules. Especially if it was her speaking. He glances around themselves.
“..Wha’ is it?”
As he turns, he does not see her vanish. At the other windows he can see other figures. They all stand in silence at the windows. His vision particularly finds Ayda. His head whips to the window at his right. Fenric.Turning back to face Azariah .. He sees himself. Not as a reflection. He backs up stumbling through the brush. He glances at the windows as he walks away from the vision of himself, looking for more familiar faces. The windows crack, threatening to break. In the windows he can see the faces of those he's cared for. Boetius, Eisa, Ventare, Kam, the best image of his mother his mind could craft. It was the figure of what he's always imagined his mother to look like. He's only got a mental image from what was described to him since he killed her upon birth. His father appeared much younger than he was by now. Probably the same age as Cymic as that was the last he had seen him. His parents look out at him impassively as their windows slowly crumble to dust. In her mirror, Kam tilts her head at him, as though he'd said something. Still, slowly, the windows break.
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