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(Guilty of Dreaming) Bloodsport

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  1. #1
    Saber Sloth's Avatar

    0 Scenes

    The days are long, and the nights are short, but still sleep comes for everyone.

    For the Darkling Queen, held within an Artist’s arms, Desire stoked, and ignited higher with ever painted stroke.

    For the Aspirant Queen, heart like a hummingbird would They find her now as she dims her perceptions and lay defenceless…?

    For the Foreign Deviless, who regret hangs heavy upon her heart, would she find her atonement within the borders of a city so far from home…?

    Questions and matters best left for the Waking world, for they are Lost and within their Dreams they each are Queens…

    ….and yet, upon the gossamer edges of memory, of thought and imagining is a hush, a chill. A rip a tear and divide between dreaming,

    A klaxon call - no, a call to arms!

    Will these Dreamers heed it?


    Please describe your character's Dream Lucifer Cayce Ingrid Yumyumcrow Penance AwakeOrangutang and their reaction to the call

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  3. #2
    Ingrid's Avatar
    Striking Looks 2 "Ethereal"
    Retainer
    (Angus (ensorcelled mortal))
    Ingrid
    Ingrid

    Mein

    Very much like her Mask. However, her skin takes on a more reflective, rubbery texture and she appears... thinner... with limbs that are slightly too long and thin for her general proportions. There is also faint traces of webbing between her fingers and toes.

    +1
    SL
    2
    PRE

    Lost and alone, this Darkling is!

    Broken hearted,
    Mind rending,
    Soul lost
    Cut and Bleeding

    She aches to be human again. Feels naked in the gossamer skein where she runs,
    Crying
    Heart Rending
    Reaching for Someone to hold
    ...
    Some like her!

    She is naked!? Confused now she tip toes around the house. Its a simple cottage: homely wood, stout stone. The air is filled with the aroma of wood smoke and dust and baking and grass cuttings and flowers. The heat - just right! - teases her and the air caresses her. The windows are open full and the breathes of wind happily snag and play in the net curtains. So white.

    She pauses and peeps into the garden beyond.

    A beautiful landscape she sees. White cliffs and land scurrying to the wine dark sea. This cottage is framed by homely hedge and a bountiful garden of vegetables and flowers. A table and benches are outside and a family crowded around, settling down to a long afternoon's meal. Across the lawn a child cartwheels, dress shimmering.

    A rattle and a clatter behind her! She turns, sensing trouble. And trouble indeed comes as...

    Ingrid hustles back into the cottage. A happy mother, full of life and knowing. She has come to pick up that basket of warm bread for the party. She is as shocked as Ingrid prime. Mouth agape, hand trembling. Bread scatters to the floor.

    And Ingrid shrieks!

    Who? Who cares!

    Ingrid leaps away, reaching beyond the room for flaring door and klaxon's call.

    No heed does she carry
    For she dare not tarry
    Across the room she flies to voyage anew...
    And down she crashes

    Ingrid is following the Klaxon heedless of where it goes. She is quite literally leaping out of a dream with no care (just yet) where she ends up!
    Darkling: Palewraith |Spring Mantle 3 (Heady scent of plums)
    WYRD 3| Health: 7| Willpower: 5 | Glamour: 7| Striking Looks 2: "Ethereal"

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  5. #3
    P
    Penance

    The slosh of a sticky red liquid at her feet. The rasp of her claws brushing steel. The groan of iron pressing against iron. A low thrum from an unseen diesel motor.

    It's a feast for the senses. It's a ship at sea, though she can't recall how she got here or how she knows this. It's an older ship, like the one from the movie Titanic. An endless hall extends before her with doors on each side ad infinitum. Some are open, some are closed, some only exist in the periphery of her vision. From inside, she can hear tauntingly familiar sounds, but it's all a hazy fog when she turns to look at them. Snippets of times half remembered at best.

    A crimson tide pools at her feet, laps at her ankles. It smells of blood and iron. Strong enough to make her salivate. The walls show all the beautiful colors of rust... or a fleshy wall of meat glistening in the light. It's hard to tell and it seems to change when she's not paying attention. Electrical wires hang from the ceiling like the vines of a great jungle, each bearing a trickle of blood. The tide is rising, past her ankles, up her calves.

    In the distant, she picks up a siren. Like an air horn heard from underwater. ...It's not fading away. In fact, it seems to be growing louder!

    Foggy contentment gives way to clarity and panic. Where is she?! The Hedge? Arcadia?! ...No no no. Even for such esoteric places, this was too ephemeral. The snippets of sound and hallucination too personal. No, she knew this to be a dream, as surely as she knew she was in a boat without ever seeing the outside.

    But then where was that klaxon coming from?

    Ahead of her extends and endless series of doors and the promise of sweet memories. But behind her... behind her like a stairwell leading down, completely submerged in sanguine waters. It's already up to her knees. She probably doesn't have much time.

    Penance glances longingly back down the corridor, its own siren song of a sweet children's rhyme echoing in her head. Even trudges forwards towards it a little.

    Perhaps another time. But when the phone rings, you answer it.

    She abruptly turns around and charges for the stairwell as best she can. The rapidly rising tide only makes things more difficult, swirling about her thighs and seeming to purposefully impede her. The Ogre dives forward and down, swimming down the throat of the stairwell and towards the source of the klaxon.

    Penance follows the klaxon in order to find its source.

  6. #4
    Lucifer's Avatar

    Distinctive Voice
    (Disquieting)
    Striking Looks
    (Nonpareil)
    Presence
    (Smoldering)
    Mantle
    (Candlelight)
    Lucifer

    Mask
    Lucifer's alien beauty is almost cruel, the eye moving uncomfortably from one monstrously perfect feature to the next.

    Mien
    Lurking beneath the alien beauty of the mask is the echo of the grotesque. Cruel teeth hide behind plush lips, goat eyes glitter beneath long lashes, ears are twisted into points, with skin the color of curdled milk.

    +2
    SL
    +1
    DV
    4
    PRE

    Dreams do not always follow logic. They are not always sequences of revelation, or fantastical romps through the depths of the mindscape. Sometimes, Dreams are full of chaos, full of bleak, swirling terror, of half remembered threats lurching from coiled shadows, of fangs and worse, grasping things. Sometimes, dreams are full of fragmented laughter, of reality warping, taunting you, escape ever out of reach, until you are caught and the night is full of passion, and pain, and hunger. Sometimes, dreams are full of memory...

    And then, suddenly, everything snapped into focus. A sound beyond sound, a vibration that seemed to thrum throughout her entire body brought Lucifer back to herself, back to a palace made of spider's shadows and the roots of a mountain, the halls echoing with symphonies composed of felines' steps and fishes song. She was upon a throne of obsidian, swathed in smoke and spider silk, a crown of cruel iron upon her head. Looking around her, the dream-world now in focus, Lucifer stood and strode forth, curious what had breached the fortress of her slumber...

    Lucifer follows the sound.
    Lucifer. Fairest: Shadowsoul/Illes, Pres 4 (Smoldering), SL 4 (Nonpareil), Distinctive Voice 2 (Disquieting). Autumn Mantle 1 (Candlelight reflecting in her eyes).
    Pledges: Dignitaries Vow

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  8. #5
    Saber Sloth's Avatar

    0 Scenes

    The dark nips and bays upon each heart. Fear laces memory, and scours perception. The corners and archways a long and shadowed, the canopy is flush and green and oh so barren. Metal creaks, and shrieks, but still each women, each a Queen in their own right barrels onward.

    A call, a siren a beacon. A reason for each to leave their horrifyingly familiar web of terror laden memory.

    Quick as the wind, swift as the deer, they chase, they run they flee

    The painted pictures of their Realms give way to rough hewn stone, sand brown and storm cloud grey. A labyrinth of twist and turns. There are sounds, cheers and jeers. The distant roar of an impossible crowd.

    Their panicked steps made all the swifter by the press of impossible expectations, of bodies not yet seen, the, like dominoes tumbling they each fall from their path and tumble into one another,

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  10. #6
    Ingrid's Avatar
    Striking Looks 2 "Ethereal"
    Retainer
    (Angus (ensorcelled mortal))
    Ingrid
    Ingrid

    Mein

    Very much like her Mask. However, her skin takes on a more reflective, rubbery texture and she appears... thinner... with limbs that are slightly too long and thin for her general proportions. There is also faint traces of webbing between her fingers and toes.

    +1
    SL
    2
    PRE

    The need - nay! The Desire to run is all the prompting she needs right now.

    Ingrid flee's the fever dream of her Fetch heedless of where her feet are taking her; or indeed, of whose dream she is now a part...
    Darkling: Palewraith |Spring Mantle 3 (Heady scent of plums)
    WYRD 3| Health: 7| Willpower: 5 | Glamour: 7| Striking Looks 2: "Ethereal"

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  12. #7
    P
    Penance

    Penance dives farther and farther into the charnel waters, lungs asking then screaming for air. The thought occurs as to what would happen if she drowned. Would she wake up gasping for air? Would she die of asphyxiation as she slept? Or would dream logic prevail and she'd simply breath it as easily as air. She pushed the thoughts from her mind, instead concentrating on swimming through her mind's inner workings.


    At some point, she seemed to have been deposited on dry land. She's not entirely sure when the transition happened, only that she trasitioned from swimming to wading to running as the walls themselves turned from steel to stone. This new portent is more maze-like, dustier, with the roar of a crowd in the distance. ...Penance couldn't be sure if this was still her dream or if she'd found somewhere, someone else.


    Her mad dash down the labyrinthine stone hallways nearly comes to bloody halt as she barely avoids crashing into two other women. Confused, and several degrees concerned, she carefully peers at the two dream "invaders". To her right, an attractive woman with pale skin that seems to reflect her surroundings, who also is completely sans clothes. To her left, an absolutely stunning beauty with alien eyes and ears that could cut diamonds. Between the two of them, she probably looked absolutely plain in comparison. If she'd known she'd be meeting others in her dreams tonight, she would've put on something a little more presentable than an overly-large t-shirt and cotton sleep pants.


    The toothy Ogre righted herself into a semi-defensive stance. The chances of finding two dreamriders at the same time was too high to be pure circumstance. Put her teeth on edge. At best, they were emissaries of this Freehold and come to check her out, in which case she regretted not saying something until now. This wasn't the best way to make a first impression. At worst... they were looking for prey and she'd walked into their trap. If that was the case, they outnumbered her and probably were better at Oneiromachy if this was their chosen battlefield. She may die in this dream yet.


    "I apologize, I ran into you. But I wish to ask... are you looking for me?"

  13. #8
    Lucifer's Avatar

    Distinctive Voice
    (Disquieting)
    Striking Looks
    (Nonpareil)
    Presence
    (Smoldering)
    Mantle
    (Candlelight)
    Lucifer

    Mask
    Lucifer's alien beauty is almost cruel, the eye moving uncomfortably from one monstrously perfect feature to the next.

    Mien
    Lurking beneath the alien beauty of the mask is the echo of the grotesque. Cruel teeth hide behind plush lips, goat eyes glitter beneath long lashes, ears are twisted into points, with skin the color of curdled milk.

    +2
    SL
    +1
    DV
    4
    PRE

    "Speak not to me, Demon," Lucifer growled, the sound reverberating low in her throat, even as the words whined upwards. She rose, her elegant form stretching higher and higher, her limbs elongating, the nails upon her hands growing cruel and sharp, her sneering lips drawing wider and wider as razor teeth sank down from her gums. Her luxurious hair floated like poisonous tendrils got in a breeze.

    "Who are you to presume that we seek anything to do with you! Do you think the Antlered Queen and the Queen of Terror would so bend before you? Kneel and pledge yourself to us, lest we presume you to be a threat!"

    The Aspiring Queen's voice was like iron being drawn over glass, like an animal screeching its tortured last, like a war harp in storm winds.
    Lucifer. Fairest: Shadowsoul/Illes, Pres 4 (Smoldering), SL 4 (Nonpareil), Distinctive Voice 2 (Disquieting). Autumn Mantle 1 (Candlelight reflecting in her eyes).
    Pledges: Dignitaries Vow

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  15. #9
    Saber Sloth's Avatar

    0 Scenes

    Stones are rough, there is sand underfoot. They are in a hallway, the rough hewn walls curve at in the distance. The place where they'd fallen from is no where to be seen.

    Three of the Lost find each other, all the while the crowd - minutes, moments. walls and dream sand away - shout. Deafening sounds, a riot of frenzied excitement, of blood thirst.

    They each were called here, brought here. Under the close and faraway roar of the crowd there are steps. Slow, even. Lumbering steps.

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  17. #10
    Ingrid's Avatar
    Striking Looks 2 "Ethereal"
    Retainer
    (Angus (ensorcelled mortal))
    Ingrid
    Ingrid

    Mein

    Very much like her Mask. However, her skin takes on a more reflective, rubbery texture and she appears... thinner... with limbs that are slightly too long and thin for her general proportions. There is also faint traces of webbing between her fingers and toes.

    +1
    SL
    2
    PRE

    Ingrid finds them. Or perhaps they find her.

    Or maybe the dream funnels them together.

    She sinks to the dirt, gasping from her long run. Dust and dream stuff crawl up her limbs and transform into shirt, pants, bandana.

      
    Date Action Roll Result
    2018-06-25 00:22:23 Ingrid to put things together rolls 6 to Wits + Occult (10 Again) 4, 3, 6, 1, 2, 4 failure

    "Who the? What the? Why? This is not my dream!" Ingrid gasps, pants, wheezes, coughs. "I know for a fact you won't be in dream. You might.. Maybe. But not doing that, so this is you, huh? Lucie... Lucy! Yeah. Unless you are a figment of my imagination and you are my subconscious. Why would I make my subconscious an Ogre. I like who am. Now." The Darkling grasps a name from the fog of beer clouding her mind. She babbled, her voice trailing off as she recalled unwelcome thoughts.

    "So. No. Not looking for you. Why would I go looking for you?" Sudden suspicion afflicted her pale face. Suspicion that transformed into controlled fear at the sound lumbering footsteps.

    "What the hell is this?"

    Already exhausted, the Emerald Courtier struggled to her feet.

    I went with Wits over Intelligence because this is working on the fly, and using gut instinct, rather than rational thought. Ingrid is still in "flight" mode.
    Darkling: Palewraith |Spring Mantle 3 (Heady scent of plums)
    WYRD 3| Health: 7| Willpower: 5 | Glamour: 7| Striking Looks 2: "Ethereal"

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