INTRO 001: BEGIN

[706mod]

INTRO 001
NAVIGATION
⩕ ARRIVAL

It’s arrival time. Or is it? For some, this situation seems eerily familiar. In fact, this has happened before, you are sure of it. The voice makes the announcement and the door rolls open. You hear the frightened voice and it begins again.

There might be memories of this place but things will seem… off. As if walls are a slightly different colour, corners a bit sharper, the door handles a bit higher. If you explore the rooms of interest you will find a few things have changed.

The cooler with the tongue is now gone, and in its place a locked door with a strange device placed next to it. It looks like an intercom. The yellow message on the wall has changed, it now reads:

There’s sunshine, daisies, and tulips too
Just remember that when you’re feeling blue ☺

The writing is clearly different than the previous message.

The room with the tube is mostly the same, except the rusted cabinets are now shiny and brand new. The tube’s liquid is now dripping a rust colour fluid.

Any items collected will be somewhere nearby.

⩕ ODE TO BEVERLY

After exploring the new (?) developments something strange is now happening throughout the complex’s floor. A shrill crying. It sounds hysterical.

It leads you to the bathroom with the shattered glass. The sound is coming from the drain of a sink.

There’s broken words, too jumbled to really understand. But the hello from earlier? Definitely the same voice.

As your face nears the sink suddenly long black hair springs from the drain, shooting up and strangling and snaring any bit of you it can. The more you struggle the more it becomes aggressive, cutting in to your skin, peeling away flesh. All the while the shrieking and wailing grows to thunderous levels.

The only way to escape is with outside help. But your rescuer has to be careful not to also get caught.

The hair or whatever it may be seems intent on blood.

⩕ THE CHASM (PART ONE)

Some of you might have escaped the hair with most of your important parts in place. But any open wounds will freely flow blood and not seem to want to staunch. Any materials found seem to be useless in treating the cuts. And when your droplets of blood hits the ground it hisses as if like acid and then unexpectedly the floor around it cracks into a hairline split. The more blood that is dropped the more the cracks appear.

Throughout the following days and nights the cracks randomly split wider and deeper.

Investigating further you will notice that the same nausea you might have experienced before is now back-- and wait! Did you just see a pair of eyes inside those fissures?

Somehow you know in your gut that the only way to stop the progression of the splits is to drop more blood in to it, but not your own. In fact, this idea takes hold despite your better judgement. It is a compulsion. Better find a willing volunteer or perhaps it will come down to a fight.


⩕ HELLO GOD? IT'S ME 7░ ░

Something odd happens many hours in to your stay. Those of you who have found a walkie will receive a broadcast. It is a man speaking. It sounds like an old recording. Soft conversation is happening in the background overlaid with a hum of machinery.

Obviously I am a man of logic. In this day and age how could someone not be? Our primitive instincts are only a tool for survival so our higher minds can concentrate on things like advancement and discovery. This a belief everyone should have. Or isn’t it? It frustrates me that few are on this level of thinking. Too many are preoccupied with that in which cannot be seen. What cannot be hooked in to.

His voice then says your number. You are certain that you have never met this person, but he definitely just addressed you specifically.

I know you are reasonable. Tell me what you believe in? In this moment, what do you believe?

As you answer, you get the distinct impression that the entire complex stills to listen. But whatever frequency he was using is now dead. The question seems to be one to ask one another, broadcasted far and wide.

⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕ ⩕

⩕ The Chasm will continue to grow throughout the next month. It becomes more and more cumbersome to navigate but the blood does seem to help to keep it at bay.

Comments

ode to beverly

[sweariff]

[Whatever's happening, he's been through this before, of that Bigby is certain. The feeling he gets when he hears the sound of panicked crying — too shrill to give him any definite identification insofar as age or gender, but it's not a terribly huge stretch of the imagination to figure it's someone young, maybe even a child — is a little stronger than the usual deja vu he's been feeling as he makes his way through the halls, enough to actually make him think twice about running straight for it. His memory's already shot to hell and back, but if he can recall going through this already, that can't be a good sign — at all.

But it's loud, it's close to screaming, and he's already established that he's not the only one stuck here, so if there really is someone in trouble, maybe even in mortal danger, he just can't risk it. So the choice seems pretty obvious and Bigby takes all of five seconds to make a decision, and even before he really knows what he's doing he's bolting off in the direction of the shrieking. He's always been more of a plan as you go type of person anyway. (He thinks.)

Too bad he hasn't really thought of one in the short time it takes for him to arrive on the scene, such as it is. And because it takes him such a short amount of time to assess the look of things, this would be a really good time to have one.

Alert turns to shock turns to horror. Every detail is processed in quick shutter-snaps, especially the vital ones. There's a wolf — that's the most important one. It's being entangled by what looks like black vines — that's the second one. They're in a bathroom and there's broken shards of what look like glass on the floor — third. And there's a lot of blood.

The wolf is trying to chew through the vines but it's not doing a damn thing, just spilling more blood, and Christ, he needs to do something. A shard of glass twinkles, catching his eye, and Bigby makes a grab for it, trying to grip it without getting his hand slashed open as he dashes towards the wolf.]

Hold still—! [Though it probably most likely definitely won't, but that's not going to stop Bigby from trying to saw through the black tendrils anyway.]

[clawandscars]

[He's still struggling, blunt claws dug deep into the linoleum as the hair continues to try and cut into him. His teeth have managed to slice through a few strands, but it's not nearly enough, and having it in his mouth has only managed to cut the inside of it up.

Something registers in his mind before he can actively understand who or what it is. Then it hits him as Bigby starts to slice at the hair wrapping his left front leg. Human. There's a human there and apparently trying to help him. That fact is almost enough to make him panic more, having a human being this close, but the hair wrapped around his neck trying to choke him doesn't give him a whole lot of options here.

He's still in fight or flight mode as his left leg is freed and then his right. All that's left is his neck. Tsume can feel his vision starting to go black as it becomes hard to breathe. Then the last tendrils part and he's gulping in deep breaths of air again.

He takes a few wary steps back, though there's nowhere to go, so his rump bumps right into the bathroom wall. As he continues to breathe, he notices something. There's his own scent here. But there's another scent here, that of another wolf. But all he sees is a very solidly human being before him...wait. Is he the wolf? How? Tsume doesn't say anything, just stares at Bigby with narrowed golden eyes.]

[sweariff]

[So, turns out he was wrong — they aren't vines, they're strands of hair. Thick black hair, corded like steel with the toughness to match. He doesn't have a clue how the fuck that's even possible, but he's not about to stop and shout questions at the sink, which apparently seems to be where it's coming from. Turns out they're not as durable as they appear, and when he cuts through the first one, there's a snapping sound that really does sound like a vine whipping back, and the thunderous wailing filling the room seems to warble.

Good sign, right?

When the last strand whips back after being cut, it nearly takes some of Bigby's arm off with it. He stumbles back, trips, falls flat on his ass with the shard of glass skittering to the ground somewhere beside him. Then the screaming abruptly ends and he's left in silence.

Well, he and his new friend anyway.

Bigby turns his attention away from the sink after staring at it for a good long while to make sure the hair is really gone, focusing instead on the wolf. For a second, the white noise buzzing in his head settles and there's nothing but curiously comfortable blankness, then

(forest brothers mother)

something just

(I'll see you around...Wolf.)

clicks.

It's like flipping a switch on and giving light to a dark room — not a lot to fill the whole place but enough to make finding your way a little easier. Bigby remembers that he's not human, far, far from it, but it doesn't...bother him. Not as much as it should. That should be alarming, even frightening.

But he doesn't feel either emotion as he stares directly at the wolf, not breaking eye contact as he slowly moves to get his bearings and push himself off the floor, like he knows he has to be careful with the way he moves because anything abrupt or panicky could be construed as a weakness.

Because that's how he would take it, if their positions were reversed.]

[clawandscars]

[There's blood all over Tsume now, the cuts on his legs the worst off, dripping all over the floor. His neck escaped without more than a few superficial cuts, protected by the thick ruff of skin and fur around it. His tongue comes out, licking it off his muzzle. He's stiff-legged, eyes darting as he looks for a way out, but there's only one main entrance, and Bigby's blocking it.

He doesn't like it one bit, this human who smells of nothing but wolf. Tsume can look human when he wants to, but it's just an illusion. There's no solidity to his form, if he brushes up against someone when cloaked as a human, they'll feel fur instead of skin. What he's faced with here is something completely different.

He stares at Bigby for a long moment before he finally speaks, the words not coming directly out of the wolf's muzzle, but more like they're projected right into Bigby's head.]

What are you?

[sweariff]

[Between his newly remembered identity and the horror show he walked in on, there's just way too much to get through here in a tidy order, so Bigby does the sensible thing by focusing on the one thing he can make an immediate difference on: the wolf's injuries. It was tangled up in that hair pretty thoroughly by the time he made it onto the scene, and even though the damage doesn't look incredibly serious from where Bigby's standing, that doesn't mean it'll get better if it's left alone. There's a lot of blood; the wolf's muzzle is wet with it as is the matted fur on its legs. Gotta fix that first and worry about what comes next later.

He's about to say something — something reassuring, he hopes — but the voice in his head beats him to the punch. Bigby's eyes widen and he forgets how to blink for a moment. He should be more alarmed but the first and only thought that comes to mind is that this voice is deep. Male, kind of rough with an edge to it that makes it hard to pinpoint an age. It definitely doesn't match the crying he heard out in the hallway, which further confirms that things are way past fucked, as if he really needed more of a reason to think so.

Right. Okay. That's a reasonable question. So...what's a reasonable answer?]

A friend. [Well, that. He should not sound this candid considering he's talking to a voice in his head, but hey, when in Rome. Being blunt suits the look he's keeping level with the wolf anyhow.] My name's Bigby.

[And, noticing the telltale sign of a fight-or-flight reflex kicking in, he adds evenly:]

You don't have to be afraid of me. I came to help, and that's what I want to keep doing.

[clawandscars]

[Tsume doesn't feel convinced that he can trust Bigby, let alone call him a friend. You are a weird creature, wolf-smelling human. For some reason, he doesn't like the word friend. It makes him feel lonely and sad, like perhaps he hasn't had many in his life. That's not good for a wolf. Wolves need a pack to function properly.

There's a proper look of skepticism on his furry face like he doesn't believe Bigby at all. He'd leave if he wasn't bleeding all over the floor like a stuck pig. He sound stubborn as he says:]

I can take care of myself.

[He can, but in this case, he really shouldn't have to. Having a pair of hands to help staunch the blood flow is going to be a lot better than just using his tongue to lick them clean.]

[sweariff]

[Should've seen that coming. Obviously he's not talking to an idiot here; he must be able to pick up that Bigby isn't human, likely by scent. He can't really blame the other for being hostile but that doesn't mean he has to like it.]

...Seriously? You're bleeding all over the place.

[Stubbornness isn't going to win his pal any points, but Bigby at least makes an effort not to sound TOO aggressive even though he has a feeling he's going to be shot down no matter what.

He doesn't have anything on hand to dress those wounds, unless...

His eyes drop to the hem of his shirt and a lightbulb goes off. This being the same material hospital scrubs are made from, it doesn't take much to tear into the fabric, which does does starting with the bottom of his shirt. He gets a long but not very thick strip out of it. Not much but better than nothing. Then he starts doing the same with the bottom of his pant legs.]

Looks like your legs took the worst of it. Gotta get those taken care of first. [As he rips off another strip:] How's your neck?

[clawandscars]

[His ears flatten to the back of his head when Bigby comes near him, but he doesn't snap at him. Tsume's got the natural instinctual caution and wariness of an animal, but he's not stupid. He stays still to allow Bigby to bandage him up.

His neck stings with the cuts on his neck, but they're not serious. There's a curious itching sensation on the back of his neck too, like he'd been stung by something many times.]

Could be worse.

[The cuts on his neck are bleeding more than they should for such shallow injuries. In fact, it doesn't seem like any of his injuries are clotting as they should. They just keep oozing out blood.]

[sweariff]

[Relieved that he doesn't have to press the issue any further, Bigby gets to work right away. On closer inspection, it looks like the cuts on the wolf's neck are more surface level than anything else, which means he doesn't have to waste his little makeshift bandages on them. It's his legs that are really concerning.]

Yeah, well, it could be a whole lot better, too. These are deeper than I thought. [And it doesn't look like the bleeding's going to stop anytime soon, what with the way dark red immediately starts blooming and soaking through the first cloth strip once Bigby finishes with tying it around the lower part of the wolf's left forearm.] ...This'll have to cut it until we find something better.

[He hopes.]

Wanna tell me how this happened or at least give me a name?

[clawandscars]

[He sniffs at the makeshift bandages that are now tied around his legs. He resists the urge to chew on them so that he can lick the injuries they now cover. That'll just be counterproductive. With the adrenaline wearing off, they're beginning to sting.

He's not going to tell Bigby how he ended up strangled by hair because he thought he heard someone crying. It all happened so fast he's not entirely sure he didn't imagine the voice that had led him there. So all Bigby will get is his name.]

My name is Tsume.

[sweariff]

[The evasive way it is, then. Bigby seems to be pushing his luck enough as it is, so maybe this is for the best for now.]

Okay then...Tsume.

[Let's try a different approach.

»Did you hear or see anyone else?
»Is it just you?
»Did you see what was down the drain?
»...

Bigby shifts to move from a kneeling position into a crouch to better get on Tsume's level, still trying to keep his movements easy and as transparent as possible to avoid setting the other off.]

Did you get separated from your pack? Or is it just you here? I woke up a little while ago in a box that looked and felt like a coffin, heard someone screaming their head off in this direction, then... [The way his hand hangs in the air open-palmed at the room around them finishes that statement pretty well.]

[clawandscars]

I woke up by myself. [Notice that the statement neither confirmed nor denied whether there was a pack that he had possibly been separated from. Tsume couldn't remember if he had one or not before ending up in this place. The word brought a sense of security to him, but also a feeling of shame and reluctance, as if he didn't want to be apart of them.] In a box like you did.

You heard the screams too? That's why I came in here. [At least Tsume knew he wasn't going crazy. The voice he had heard had been real. He also wasn't completely out for himself. He'd come into the bathroom because he'd been concerned as to why someone would be screaming that way.]

[sweariff]

Well, at least they're consistent. [Though he cringes imagining Tsume, compact and lithe animal that he is, waking up in a dark, cramped box without the benefit of having anatomy that would allow him the flexibility to bend and adjust himself in such a setting. Oof.]

You couldn't miss them. They were loud. Also kind of sounded a little bit like the voice I heard when I woke up. [A little, but not much. He scratches the side of his cheek, a tic of his he does when he's either in deep thought or feeling on edge.] I expected to find a kid. A wolf sure as shit wasn't on my mind; neither was a fullblown monster made of...whatever the hell that was.

[Whiiiiiich brings him to his next point of action:]

...Speaking of, we should start moving. [He's watching the sink in the corner warily, like he's not sure if they're really alone in here.] Can you walk?

[clawandscars]

[It certainly hadn't been fun for him to wake up in such cramped conditions. Such was the lot in life for someone who didn't possess thumbs. At least he hadn't panicked. Tsume was very unflappable wolf when push came to shove. It's what made him a good second-in-command.]

It sound like-- [He searches the empty of bank of memory in his head and hears something in there. A young girl screaming in a pitch that none but wolves could hear. She sounded like she was in pain. There's no face or name attached to the sound. But Tsume remembers that sound well.] --like someone I knew.

[That's all he wants to say about that. He tests out his legs. It looks like he can still put weight on both of them, so he's good to go.]

If I can't, you can always just leave me behind.

[Don't worry, that's just Tsume's dry and somewhat morbid humor at work.]

[sweariff]

[Ha ha.]

Or I could sling you over my shoulder and carry you like a rug.

[He already looks the part with some squinting, but that's beside the point. Bigby starts heading out with the expectation that he'll be followed, but not before tearing another smaller strip of fabric off his increasingly ratty looking scrub shirt to wrap around the shard of glass he grabs on the way out. With the way he's torn into his clothes, he's really going to need to start looking for a better pair, like, soon. At least he can say he got some use out of these.]

Who did you think it was? [He asks this at length once they're safely out of the hell-room.]

[clawandscars]

So undignified.

[He snorts. There's something that niggles at the back of his mind, picking someone up, and carrying him against his protests to be put back down. There's no face or name attached to the memory, just the sensation of carrying another wolf on his back. The question brings a scowl to his muzzle.]

I don't know. Someone I can't remember.

[Is it weird to admit he can't remember anything right now? He has no idea if this is just him that's experiencing it. But he doesn't like that he can't fully remember the girl. She seems like she was important even if he can't remember anything about her but her screams.]

[sweariff]

But they seemed important. Right?

[Just a guess. The lighting in these corridors is horrible, too bright in some places, close to blackout dark in others, and finding your way when you're already dealing with what's turning out to become chronic pain makes things all the more difficult. That struggle took more out of Bigby than he wants to admit, but it might show anyway with the way he walks — slow and careful, not quite limping but taking deliberate steps and leaning with his hand against the wall to help him keep his balance as they walk into a part of the floor where the lighting is particularly bad.]

I'm getting that, too. It feels like my brain's been on ice. I remember little things like voices, but nothing huge like faces or names. [Well, except for Gren's. The fact that he of all people is the first person Bigby's been able to remember in his current state is either very sad or very telling of a multitude of deep-seated issues he's not even qualified to touch with a ten foot pole.] Wouldn't be so bad if I knew there weren't important things buried under all the petty, irrelevant crap, and if I had half an idea of how to start digging to get to it.

[clawandscars]

Yes. She was very important. She's always so sad when she screams. Like she's upset something bad happened to me.

[Why else would she scream out in that way, in the pitch that only wolves could hear? Something had happened to him before he had come here and she had been horrified by it.

Tsume is going slow too, the blood soaking through the makeshift bandages. He notices that Bigby seems to be struggling to keep moving at a normal pace. He doesn't look or smell hurt to Tsume, but what does he know? This place is strange and seems like it's designed to hurt.]

I can't remember anyone. None of my pack Just sensations that remind me of things.

[sweariff]

[It's a weird kind of full body pain that simultaneously drains him and makes him feel like every nerve in his body is on fire. It started when he woke up and while it's come and gone in waves since then, it's shown no signs of letting up. Still, the fact that it isn't constant must be a good sign. Maybe he's only been partially mutilated instead of entirely, assuming that's what happened since he can't see anything that would outwardly indicate injury. It's gotta be internal.]

But you remember enough about her to know she meant something to you. That's a big deal. [His fingers twitch as his hand slides against the wall, feeling for the sides of a door or a window, or the depression of something that may have been there.] If you can still remember that, it means you can remember the rest, and that whatever— this is, it isn't permanent.

[At least, he hopes so. There's a face in his head that just won't go away, a woman with skin as white as snow and hair as dark as night. When he thinks of her, he doesn't just want to get out of here — he wants to level this building to the ground and scatter the goddamn ashes to make sure whatever happens to him never happens to her, and he'll do anything to make it happen.

Too bad he can't remember her name. Yet.]

I need to get back to my pack, too. [It comes unprompted, as if he's going at this stream of consciousness style. Maybe he is. Being around the first thing he's felt connected to here in a way that isn't just surface level will do that to someone, he supposes.]

[clawandscars]

[He's glad that whatever this is likely won't be permanent. He knows there's a girl who isn't human and a pack somewhere out there he belongs to. But beyond that is just a deep, gaping void where his memories should be, everything all dark and fuzzy.

The mention of a pack makes Tsume look sidelong at Bigby, giving him a hard up-and-down stare. There's that puzzlement again.]

Why do you look human?

[It's not just the scent that marks him as wolf. It's something in the way Bigby moves, that way animals have of moving with a certain grace that makes human beings look like bumbling oafs by comparison. It's also something in the way he seems to approach things. He'd known just how to calm Tsume after the hair monster had nearly killed him.]

[sweariff]

[Bigby doesn't answer for what feels like a long time, though in reality it can't be longer than a minute, maybe two. You can't give an easy answer to this question, especially when the details are still slowly revealing themselves at a snail's pace — steady and reliable, but excruciatingly slow. He remembers his home, his...family (regrettably so, but not for the reasons one would imagine; the truth's more complex than that) and what he really is, what he's always been, what he always will be no matter the form or the magic it takes to maintain it.

It's explaining it to someone who might not get what a Fable is, let alone the Big Bad Wolf, that's the hard part. So...he opts for the honest, most straightforward route.]

Because I am human. Sort of, right now. [...Which really isn't that straightforward at all, come to think of it, and you can tell he knows by the way his eyes narrow, already too tired for any of this.] It's...complicated. Whatever your nose is telling you, that's what you should believe.

[He's guessing that it must be sending Tsume some pretty mixed messages right now, though. Maybe not the best advice to give.]

Hey. Does the name "Hesse" ring any bells, or the Black Forest? [If the answer to any of those questions is yes, it would solve a lot of problems.]

[clawandscars]

You're really bad at answering questions, you know that?

[It was like listening to a riddle or something, answering a bit while creating more confusion. He's a wolf that looks human. If he had more of his memories, this would actually make a lot of sense, but at the moment, Tsume is still confused.

The question about names doesn't jog anything at first. Then a memory comes unbidden to his mind at the mention of a forest. He's traveling through one, cloaked in his human illusion. There's an owl with no scent above him. Something's not right with it. He mentions this to someone at his left, someone he can't see the face of.

The owl stares down at them, blank eyes creepy. 'An owl that's suspicious. Wolves that look delicious. They all wandered in and got lost as one. Well done!' It flies off after Tsume leaps up and tries to catch it.]

The Forest of Death...

[He says to himself. The owl had tried to make sure he and whoever he was with had never left. To make sure the forest lived up to its name. A dead thing whose spirit had never left his final resting place, a ghost who tried to make sure the wolves died too.

He gives an all-over shake like he's got a coat full of water, shaking the memory off. What a thing to remember in a place like this.]

No. Neither of those names mean anything to me.

[sweariff]

Because this isn't one you can explain easily. [That comes out a bit snappish, but as with any hard truth, Bigby doesn't spare feelings when there are more important things at stake.] If you could trust me this far, you can trust me a little longer.

[—But then Tsume says something that freezes all of Bigby's frustration, and his expression shifts into one of surprised curiosity. The Forest of Death. Not what he had in mind at all, but he's heard the Black Forest being called similar things before, he thinks. Of course he's a major reason why, but not the only one. You venture deep enough inside any place you aren't welcome in and you'll find more than enough things inside that not only want you gone but want to pick and poke and study you for fun and personal interest, and that not even accounting the ones that are hungry. You don't enter someone's home unannounced. You especially don't enter without bringing dinner. That's the way of the forest.

Bigby watches the noticeable shift in Tsume's posture, the shaking that could read as an uneasy tremble just as much as a tic, and wonders how much the two of them have in common and if it's enough to allow some leeway for the one important, very vital thing they might not share.]

Long time ago, I used to live in the Black Forest. Wolves like you weren't rare. Actually, most of the animals who lived there were like you. [This is the only way he can broach the subject in as honest a way without sacrificing the most important parts of its secrecy. If Tsume is a Fable who just doesn't remember he is, maybe this will be enough to jog his memory. If he isn't, he's at least getting more of the story.] Where I live now, it's not like that anymore. Animals can't talk.

[He looks down at Tsume, expression serious and searching.]

Do you remember anything about where you're from?

[clawandscars]

[Some people think animals can't emote very well, but there is a definite frown on Tsume's face. He doesn't like having to rely on other people. Trust has never come easy for him. He doesn't trust people and so they don't have to trust him in return. He doesn't remember yet how he learned to do just that with his pack on their journey to find Paradise together.

He hesitates a long moment at the question, lining up the piecemeal memories of what he remembers about his home all in order to make sense of them all. There's a grim picture painted in his mind.]

It was a dying place. Desolation everywhere. No mountains or forests anymore. Everything had been ruined by the humans. So the wolves that were left hid among them. There was a way to create an illusion to look human when they were near.

[It's much to his frustration that it doesn't work here. Life is easier when he can pass as human. There's less questions and people don't fear him quite as much. He just looks like any other teenager trying to survive a post-apocalyptic world on the edge of death.]