PM to join Into the rabbit hole

[Kry]

Spring 79

Venturing out after the rains had ended was a surreal experience. The rain had left everything in a chaotic disarray buildings no longer in rows but sinking, some places completely void of where buildings once were, walking out Kry was amazed at the difference the entire city had been submerged only days prior, but now it was again above water. lining the streets were trees of all types that had grown ridiculously high in mere nights. Kry’s goal for the day was to head back to the Library to return books she had borrowed and to again see the peevish Librarian. Despite the woman’s sharp tongue Kry found that she liked the woman. Making her way through the city looking for the Library that had a tendency to move about as was it’s whim.

On her way through town Kry began to feel herself sweating, Walking was particularly hard today. Kry had at first thought it merely the mud being particularly sticky. Bit it was more than sticky Kry soon began to feel that the ground wasn’t just sticking to her, it was pulling her down! Picking a foot up to find purchase on higher ground Kry felt her other foot go deeper as her foot came out. trying to use her free leg and arms to pull her entangled Limb free all Kry accomplished was further sinking the rest of her body in her hands and leg getting stuck in the viscous mud that had a hold on her.

Looking around like a trapped mouse Kry searched for some means of escape, a tree in reach a concerned onlooker, there was nothing and nobody around to assist her in escaping from her predicament. Slowly the mud began to consume Kry’s small frame crawling up her torso, Kry felt the mud come up to her neck, soon the whole world would be nothing but wet sticky mud and there was nothing Kry could do. “not fun” where Kry’s last quiet words as she sank into the Abyss of mud

[Kry]

For those who don’t know, in this world there are many forms of darkness. Some good, some, not so much. Others well some things simply aren’t definable. Sinking into the ground Kry experienced one of the most unpleasant things in her short life the darkness had completely consumed her, a wet sticky nightmare. This darkness was cold, it was terrifying, Kry felt as if the very embodiment of death had consumed her as she sank into its inky depths. Was this death? Had the city of illusion proven too much, had spurning her parent’s advice finally resulted in her death?

The darkness was all consuming, and Kry began to lose sense of time If this was death it was an all consuming void, where was the light, where was Izurdin reaching out to take her hand welcoming her home? Curling up Kry tried to ignore the darkness receding into the darkness not of the world but one’s own mind the darkness one seeks so that they may hide from the world when it becomes to much to handle.

Kry slowly faded into herself as floating in a sea of the darkness, It was terrifying, But thrashing blindly was not the solution, after all, while thrash needlessly against fate, If this was death, then so be it. If it wasn’t then their was still nothing Kry could do about her situation, it was simply something that she would have to accept. Trying to put things together Kry considered how she had gotten to where she was. She had been going to the Library, and then the ground had become sticky, and slowly it had eaten? Kry was below the city, it had consumed her, and now she was in it. Did the city have a heart? If Kry listened would she hear it beat. curiosity melded with the fear that was consuming her. Was this some trick of Ionu, Or had he decided that he no longer wanted things in his city, was this how he removed them? Was Kry going to be eaten by the very city,Kry had heard of the disappearing orphans, perhaps this was how they disappeared. These thoughts plagued her as she sank deeper into the would be abyss.

[Fable]

Down and down and down some more fell the child. Time seemed to have been lost to the ever expanding darkness, the ticks stolen by the silence that swelled up and around her, muffling first her body, then her mind, then her soul. As she sank - or was it tumbled? - deeper into the very core of the city, there came a humming.

It was gentle and light at first, drifting through the nothingness like a forgotten memory. The notes were muffled, muddied by the distance - for there was distance - and soon Kry realized that she had ceased falling. Whether she had landed in that moment or ticks or chimes or bells ago was indeterminable. As she began to realize the fall had ceased, the music began to swell. Strings and a flute carrying on a morose sort of jig.

She lay in the middle of a street, surrounded by buildings that stretched up into the darkness above, their tops obscured by the hungry, inky night that was held at bay by the flickering light of the torches that sparsely sputtered from their places along the walls. Above, the moon grinned with sanguine teeth, staring down below, the night its eyes.

The street extended behind and before her, broken cobbles weaving upwards and downwards, though which moved where was uncertain. The music drifted from ahead, shadows cast of strange, elongated figures who were more movement than detail. Whether onward or in retreat, the child would find no one there. The music would play, and the moon the grin down from above, but not a soul but the empty creak of the occasional, illegible sign hanging from what might have once been a storefront and the hiss of strings and flute would find her company.

A maze of darkened streets without a set of stairs in sight, certainly an unexpected plight.

NoteThere will be no NPCs available to you unless I introduce them. Good luck!

[Kry]

Shifting and falling, and falling and shifting. Kry felt as if her whole being had been consumed, her very mind clouded by the darkness. After some length of time, though short or great, Kry could not know. Little eyes opening revealed that Kry was somewhere new, a place that was not where she once was. Looking up Kry stared into another pale face. Though the face that looked back was none too happy to greet her, the Sanguine moon that greeted her as she awoke looked displeased to be seeing her. Laying on her back Kry explored the various senses that the body could feel. the first being Sight. The place she was was dark with the exception of the beautifully cruel moon dark buildings rimmed her view of what was sky?

Next came the sense of touch. Kry was cool, almost cold. The ground that she lay on was made of stone, cobbled stone bricks that paved the street on which she was laying. the paved stones where neither dry nor wet but so cool that one was never quit sure as to if the were damp or not. The gritty stone was rough against Kry's exposed calves and hands. Decidedly unpleasant for sure, unlike sight the touch here left much lacking. What about scent? Closing her eyes Kry focused on the smells about her the smells of the place where simple and complex. the smell of damp and mildew pervaded the air as it does it most damp dark places, though their were myriads of other senses that Kry could not define out of inexperience and simply a lack of the ability to smell very well to begin with.

That was three senses. what was left. Taste? Judging from the situation, kry decided that perhaps that sense might not be wise to explore though it was certainly one of the five. So then, it was hearing, Kry had been aware of a humming in the darkness, but she had tried to hide from it to drown it out. letting herself immerse herself in it Kry listened to the sounds of the damp, dark, gritty, moldy, place. The sound was not just some discombobulated noise but a melody, several sounds melding into one like when one mixes metals to make an alloy. The music was carried by flute and string that played together a foreboding and playful tune, like a performing beast. Entertaining to look at but you were always afraid that it might snap at you.

Finally after exploring the area around her with her mind Kry stood. to what sense would Kry follow? There were two directions one that meandered up and towards the uninviting moon, and one that winded down towards the unknown smells and shadows. Deciding that the moon had no good intent this night Kry turned towards the path that led towards the heart of the place. One foot after the other Kry delved into the place unknown, a child, yet to be full grown.

[Fable]

As the child's foot steps sounded in rhythm to the music's melody, the shadows around her seemed to shift, independent of the of the torchlight and the bloody hue cast by the false moon's light. Down, deeper and deeper, she descended, as if the fall had yet to cease, only she now feel upon each step than through the inky, all-consuming darkness of the sky that was so close and far above her. The music's volume never change, it neither swelled nor faded, seemingly coming from a building in the distance to her right, but each one passed gave way to a new one, a new potential without ever revealing the true nature of its origin.

The path stretched out before her, its end clouded by shadows. No light extended beyond a few yards of where she stood in relation to the ally, though there was no indication that new torches were lit as she passed. It was like a dream, the light constant in its flickering tone, the moon's face illuminating only what was directly around her. The cobbles, cracked and uneven, if she took the time to look, were consistent in their deformities, and the walls she passed, doorways and all, carried very little change in them.

When she did come to a stop, so too did the music. The flute shivered into silence there the strings seemed to screetch to a halt, leaving the world in utter and complete silence. Any step the child made would sound like a thousand drums, any word a millennium of wails. Age permeated everything. It hung on the air, as if the centuries were tapestries fluttering gently in a nonexistent wind. Even the bricks themselves were far different than those that could be found in the city proper, they were warped, ancient, and almost yellowed like a scroll that had weathered the many shifts of man and nature alike.

Then, in the silence, the heady, almost warmth of her isolation, there came a voice. It was a whisper of innumerable voices, each their own language, own hissing nature, but they formed together in an ethereal question.

"What is its name?"

There was nothing but the the shadows around her, the voices seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.