ph_logs | January Event - Lost in Dreamland

January Event - Lost in Dreamland

**Plain text version here.

Lost in Dreamland

Bedtime Story

{ CONTENT WARNINGS: Unreality, dream logic. Mind the CWs in individual threads, as they will vary! }

It is no secret that in the Emerald Isles, winter and sleep have a deep connection. To some extent, this is true everywhere. The whole world seems to fall asleep under the blanket of snow. Plants recede back into the ground, trees stand leafless and slumbering till spring, animals hibernate. Nights are longer. But the local folklore intensifies this, as Mortanne presides over Winter and the Beyond.

As the tales go, the Beyond is the realm of souls, the place where the essence of a person goes when it separates from their body. And while this primarily refers to death, it can also refer to the half-step between living and dying--- the unconscious mind. Sleep, and moreover, dreaming. And thus, winter and dreams have always been kindred spirits. Connected through their ties to Mother Mortanne and to a hushed and sleeping world.

Perhaps it is for this reason that when you go to sleep on the night of January 19th, 16:55, it is a deeper, more consuming sleep than you’ve ever felt. One that swallows you whole, dragging you down, and down, and down, into a sunken place that is deeper and more terrifying than dreams.

By the time you think to feel afraid, it is already too late to jolt yourself awake.

LULLABY

Beautiful Dreamer, Wake Unto Me

You wake. Or do you? It feels a bit like waking, and yet, it does not. It is similar enough to waking that one might believe it to be so. You feel ground beneath your feet, or perhaps a bed beneath your back. Or something. You feel… something. It isn’t like waking. But it’s a little bit like waking. Perhaps it is not. But perhaps it is as close as you are able to get. Let’s try this again.

You “wake.” Your mind solidifies and reality defines its shape around you. Your eyes focus and you become aware. What are you aware of?

Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Perhaps it seems good at first, but it is not. Wherever you are, only horrors await you here, pulled straight from your own mind. Or the minds of others.

Move. You must move. The dream is a landscape. You must traverse nightmares to escape. Seek other dreamers, and flee. To the center, to safety in false daydreams. To the underground, where the Necropolis will conceal you. To the edges, where you can feel your consciousness break free of this sunken sleep and return to the world of hard objects and light. But you cannot stay here. Gods help you if you stay here.

[ Your nightmare can look however you desire. Laws of reality and physics do not apply. Fuse them, reshape them, choose your flavor. Be liberal with content warnings and respect sensitive content guidelines, but otherwise, there are no rules. ]

Starlight and Dewdrops are Waiting For Thee

If you reach the center of the dreamscape (or perhaps you “woke up” there), you will find an oasis. You find yourself immediately embraced by a beautiful dream. All of your wishes granted, your deepest desires pulled directly from the core of your soul and brought to life before you in vivid detail.

What sort of dream do you find yourself in? What do you dream of? Is it success, love, peace? A life that never came to pass? For your troubles never to have occurred? Do you dream of fame or glory? No matter how beautiful or extravagant, no matter how simple or selfish, the things you desire most are yours.

You cannot escape from here. This is the center, as far away from the waking world as you can go. But the dream entreats you, as do the illusory figures within it. ”Stay,” they croon. ”There is nothing for you beyond here. Only nightmares, only terror. You are safe here. You are loved and wanted and happy here. Why would you ever want to leave?”

Time blends together. It often does, in dreaming, but this feels different. How long have you been here? Do you remember what you were doing before? How you got here? Have you ever even been to a town called Pumpkin Hollow? You can hardly remember.

Maybe that was the dream, and this is your reality. Even as the edges of it bleed together with that of your neighbor, even as fleeting memories come back to you, even as a little voice deep within you screams at you to wake up--- you have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of this place. Here you are happy and safe. Here you are everything you ever wanted to be, living the life you always wanted. Here there are no debts, no suffering, and you shall never die.

You belong here. Surely.

Sounds of the Rude World Heard in the Day

With how far you had to sink into unconsciousness to be here, it’s hard to believe one could go any deeper. But the Beyond is a many-layered place, and perhaps by descending a bit further, a bit deeper, a bit closer to death, you can find another place. Maybe you have a connection to death that brought you here. Perhaps you find your way by mistake. Either way, you may find yourself on a more peaceful journey through the Beyond through the Frozen Necropolis.

A seemingly endless maze of stone walls, mismatched in their depth as if they were patchworked together over centuries. Mausoleums, slotted tightly against one another. Covered marble passageways. Stone statues and carved reliefs depicting gargoyles, knights, Virtues, mages with skull motifs--- necromancers, perhaps? Banshees and dullahans, elves and humans and dwarves and orcs and fae folk of all sorts. All of these things line a network of cobblestone pathways lined with powder snow drifts and crunchy brown grass. Names are carved into the arches above mausoleum doors. Some are familiar, some are not. Fairbanks, Gladwyn, Dirthariel, Leeds, Larson, Endrin, Applegate, Brenning. Above you, white pillar candles float magically overhead, burning bright, lighting your way through the dark pink sunset sky.

In the distance, you see the achingly thin spires of the Winter Cathedral. An austere grey monolith with ornate carvings of horses and snowflake-shaped stained glass windows. Perhaps you will find some solace there. Otherwise, make your way to the river. A familiar ferryman awaits you--- though returning to reality this way will have a small consequence.

[ Encountering Mortanne here is possible, though her threads will be heavily restricted. You can do a thread here with someone else, though! It’s fine to be here without encountering her. Returning to the island by ferry will cause your physical body to die in the process, leaving you a ghost for the usual amount of time. You can also return to the nightmare and get out through the edge. ]

Lulled by the Moonlight, Have All Passed Away

Should you find the edge of the nightmare, you will be able to push yourself through the iridescent membrane at the edge of consciousness. You float through the seemingly endless darkness for a moment, then another, then a third, senses dull and drifting drunkenly, until suddenly---

Like breaching the surface of water, you return to the solid, bright sharpness of reality. Actual reality, firm and true. You are where you went to sleep the night before, though some time has passed. It might take you a bit to figure out exactly how much, though…

Those who escape the nightmare will find themselves home sometime between 1/20 and 1/30. Those who stay in the dream oasis will be comatose until the dream ends, and will not wake until 2/8. They will find the return to reality deeply unpleasant. What are you willing to endure to keep dreaming a while more?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Valdis can tell by looking at her that this might be one person she can't break out of their nightmare, but she's going to try. She looks back at the undead, and takes the power piloting them for herself, removing the spark of animation and destroying it within the void, buying them more time.

"Don't be afraid. You have time to make a decision."

The undead bodies struggle, for only a moment, then drop to the ground like so many sacks of bones. Cassandra stares at them, then up at her.

"Who ..." She blinks. "I -- I know you."

She feels that tug of resistance, but necromancy is part of her in a way that no human like Delilah can claim. Valdis glances back as Cassandra, sees that glimmer of her Cass and feels more hope than she did moments before.

"And I know you, which is why I know you are stronger than the monsters chasing you."

Blankly: "I'm not. They always win. It doesn't matter what I do."

And that glimmer is gone.

"You aren't alone now though, so do you want to try?"

Gone, and then just barely back again -- like a candle guttering in a cold wind but not quite, not quite, extinguished.

Cassandra's mouth trembles and firms, and she straightens.

"I'll try," she whispers.

"Good. Let's go."

Valdis pulls Cassandra to her feet and, not letting go of her arm, starts to walk in the opposite direction of the bodies she had just broken the power of.

Hopefully they would not get up again.

They don't, for the moment. Some part of Cassandra is willing to believe in a power strong enough to stop them.

"If we can get to the woods, then -- then maybe there's a chance." She's hobbling, her feet in slim delicate shoes, wholly unsuitable for running on uneven ground and already battered.

Valdis hopes Cassandra keeps believing in her, because the moment she stops, things become dangerous. She bites her lip as she watches the girl stumble in her shoes.

"I'm going to shift so I can carry you, please don't be frightened by it."

She'll give Cassandra time to process her words before actually doing it.

"Yes. Please. If we can move faster --"

A howl sounds in the distance, back in the direction of the castle. Valdis can tell, very easily, that nothing so wholesome as a wolf has made it.

Cassandra's face goes bleak. "Hurry."

Valdis doesn't waste a moment, knowing that whatever made that howl is not something she's keen to face while protecting Cassandra. The nice thing about the Beyond is that she can shift faster without pain. Within a breath, the giant Hound is lowering herself to the ground next to Cassandra.

Get on.

Cassandra scrambles to mount. She's ridden horses before, of course; this is different enough to give her pause, similar enough that she can adjust.

"Make for the woods," she husks, her hands cold against the great wolf's fur. "If -- if we can get as far as Turst Fields, maybe, or downriver to Drynna --"

There's a moment of dizziness, of hearing another voice in memory, saying the same words.

"South," she says along with the remembered voice, "either way." And then on her own, "We got away that time. We did. We can make it."

Valdis flicks an ear and slowly rises, hoping Cassandra can adjust well.

Hold on tight.

Once she feels the girl is secured, she starts slowly toward the south, then rises into a lope before heading into a flat out run. Even this isn't her top speed, but unless needed, she's not going to risk Cass falling off.

Cassandra clings hard, leaning almost flat against the beast's neck, as the treeline dances crazily in her eyes, closer and closer --

There's a sound of crashing branches, and something vast looms out of the trees: two legs, two arms, a head, palely glowing eyes, towering above them as it lurches forward. A frost giant. An undead frost giant.

"Valdis!" A cry of warning, and of shock so deep that it completely overrides her awareness that she's remembered her name.

Her ears flick at the sound of her name, but the surprise pales in the face of the giant that steps out of the trees.

That's something she hasn't faced before.

Hold on.

Valdis turns into a stop and reaches out with her power, stabbing at the magic within the giant in an attempt to sever it.

It's not as easy this time; the sheer size of the creature means there's a great deal more power animating it, and it resists dispelling.

"Valdis," Cassandra repeats, almost inaudibly, low and stunned. "I know you. This is -- this isn't --"

The undead frost giant gives a bellow, and raises a fist the size of a writing desk, ready to smash down upon them.

Bigger fish means more power needed, but even with all her power, she's certain Delilah is channeling everything she's got into this monstrosity.

Yes it's not real, you are dreaming, but...Hold on tight!

Valdis dodges the fist as it comes crashing down, she's far more agile after all.

Remember Pumpkin Hollow?

"No," she says, but not with any great conviction, and then, "Wait ..."

The frost giant heaves its fist back up, glaring down at them both.

"This is a dream? How do we wake up?"

Valdis sends her magic back into the undead giant, not intending to sever the magic this time, but to follow it back to it's source and attack Delilah directly.

Some dreams fall away when the dreamer realizes it, others I have had to find the barrier and cross it with them.

She doesn't stay still while she traces the lines of power, but keeps moving to avoid being hit.

The giant falters, as the magic ebbs and billows strangely, like it isn't sure where its source actually is. Is it the necromancer that animates the creature, or the dreamer's fear of her?

(And is it Cassandra's newfound awareness the cause of this uncertainty?)

"There," says Cassandra sharply, "while it's off balance, get into the underbrush -- maybe we can lose it in the woods."

Valdis tips her head, noting the differences between a dream and reality. There is no source for her to break, it's entirely created by Cassandra herself. Something to take forward.

Cassandra, do you believe I can get you to the edge of your nightmare safely?

She doesn't wait for the answer before dashing past the giant and into the forest behind it.

Because if you believe I am more powerful than her, I will be and we will reach the end of this unscathed.

Behind them, the frost giant bellows yet again and the trees shake and crackle, but it can't get through as quickly as they can.

Speaking for the first time in her head, where she has remembered that Valdis can hear her: If you say you can get us out of here, I believe you can.

Valdis doubles down at those words, leaping forward and leaving the giant far behind her, her long strides covering more ground than any horse could.

Up ahead, there's a silver slash through the underbrush: a river, choked with ice. Natural enough in the mountains in winter, but there's a strange bright haze above it, like steam but paler.

There. The river -- if we can get across --

Across the river, then south. It doesn't make rational sense, there's no reason the river should stop the undead giant or any other undead that might pursue them, but some part of Cassandra has grasped at it with the fierce urgency of dream logic: if we can get across the river we're safe.

Valdis hesitates a moment at the sight of the river, uncertain of how safe it is to cross, even covered in ice. She doesn't like the look of that mist either, but if Cassandra believes it to be safe if they can get across, well, she's going to have to try.

Hold on tight.

Her eye quickly picks out the safest, and fastest, route across the ice. With a breath, Valdis starts across the ice.

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