[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

[lifeaftr_mods]

Something is wrong.

This may not very well be obvious, at first. The Storyteller is not present to put forth yet another diatribe, informative or apologetic, and the backdrop of guttering flame and sandy campfire is as present as ever...albeit briefly.



Those who tell their stories will start to notice something...odd taking place. Indeed, no matter how they intend to begin their tale, the land of Mu will immediately start to warp to accommodate it, or something utterly unlike it, until storytellers and listeners alike may find themselves in an exact recreation of a seemingly random memory, in the most stark and painstaking of detail. There is no altering the memory, nor is there any preventing it once it's begun to play - you will simply have to witness memories that are not your own this go around.

Furthermore, stories that take place in worlds other than LifeAftr will be, frankly, inevitable. Those memories, too, will be recreated, to be relived by the teller and lived by the listener.

---

It is time, once more, for you to tell a story...with a slight twist! This is, in fact, our first player plot, as provided by Dragon! The initial setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams.

Yet for this Storytelling only, people can imagine whatever stories they wish, from both their homes and their time on LifeAftr, as long as they don't mind the fact that others will be reliving those stories in the form of an impromptu memory share.

Even those who prefer not to voice their stories aloud are not safe this time around. If the memory is recalled in essence, Mu will shift to accommodate it in full.

There is, however, a benefit to this: those who venture memories to be relived will receive both a befuddled apology from the Storyteller, who will assert that this was most definitely not meant to happen (they're the Storyteller, not the Rememberer!), as well as a tired promise that the relived memories will be worth two offerings each, as if in compensation.

Not that it counts for much, probably.

Comments

ii: two nymphs one minotaur

[solperierat]

You are in a forest. It's dark, foggy, and filled with echoing giggles that reach your ears much easier than they ought to. Somehow, though, you are able to see perfectly fine--the shapes of uprooted trees and shattered rocks litter the area, and it's obvious this 'clearing' didn't exist a short time before. But still, even with all of this the anger and hunger eat at you, raw instinct catching faint scents of prey in the air--you turn and swing a huge, hideously muscular furred arm into another tree and smash it hard enough to crack it nearly half the length of the trunk. A tail lashes behind you, and you growl with a deep rumble as you punch the tree again, and again--

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!"

The voice cuts through the haze of furious energy, every sense sharpening to a point as you whirl around to face the intruders. Two plants in the shape of men, elongated and distorted. One looks like a birch, but the other is far more exotic. The first is approaching with furious strides, and the taller remains still--unnaturally so. The lips of your muzzle pull back in a feral snarl, and your voice booms out in a deep rumble.

"Leave me alone!"

The birch speeds into a full on charge, the vines on his back arching up and overhead as he shouts again for you to stop, but reason is slipping out of your grasp again amidst your frustration. You roar and barrel forward at him on all fours, leaping to tackle and slam the nymph into the ground and start pummeling him like the trees and rocks before. The first punch connects, but he twists and grabs at you with his root-like hands, the false fingers lengthening and winding around throat and shoulder, already starting to dig into flesh. You roar and thrash about, lashing out with a vicious kick into the arm holding you. It splits open with a screech of pain and spray of sap, and--

Suddenly two far thicker vines wrap around you, as the other nymph enters the fray. Around your chest and remaining arm to squeeze with vicious strength. The birch is pulled upright from his prone position, and greenish tears streak down from the hollow knots that serve for eyes. His voice when he speaks is no longer an angry shout but a flat, near emotionless murmur. "You killed them. How dare you."

You snarl and struggle to break free, but there's just not enough room to break these vines like you know--you know--you could. Teeth bared in fury, you nearly bite the birch's face off with your retort. "I have not killed anyone, you crazy bag of twigs!"

The trees are having none of it. "You killed them."

"The entire forest saw you! Don't lie!" The birch shoves you away and lashes out with a kick of his own into your gut, and your chest cracks, a howl of pain quickly muffled as the rainbow-colored tree grabbing your face with one claw-like branch and bashing you down into the ground. Another crack and burst of blinding pain in your arm elicits an entirely inhuman screech of pain, and you struggle all the harder--not to fight back, but now to escape.

You attempt to bite one of those finger-branches in the same instant that you're suddenly released, and you don't question it--you're on your hooves and charging off into the night without a single look back.

[greatcleavage]

"No offense," Roy said after a long and extremely confused silence, as he tried to process that whole scene once or twice. "But I think you win the medal for 'most-needed context' tonight."

[catpiper]

[There's too much going on. It's frightening. Scary. A confusing mess showing one person she recognizes in the chaos, acting the part of the monster he looks to be. It doesn't matter how many times she repeats this is a memory and it's safe because it's reality right now. Imagining how long ago this must've happened, somewhere far away from the island they're residing on, isn't a comfort in the slightest when the scene is played out in front of her like this.

She hates this and tries to physically distance herself from the violent nightmare. Not that it helps when there's nowhere to hide and all she manages to do is move in an erratic pattern that leads her back to where she began.

This is a memory of when he was hurt-when he may have killed someone. May not have. The pounding in her heart is louder than the dialogue and it's only when the images start to vanish that she takes her eyes off the scene, looking for Edward in the wake of this mess.]

orz this is the laaaaateeeeest

[solperierat]

[It's not really shame that has Ed trying to keep himself as small as possible. Scenes like that, vicious fights between monsters over seemingly trivial matters, it happened so often on the peninsula that it was just another part of the foggy weeks. Really he's lurking away out of embarrassment, as one of his most pathetic moments is played for anyone to see.]

[But as he turns he catches sight of Ren's terrified face, and--he freezes. It's the strangest things that remind Ed that the humans here don't...they didn't know what being a monster really meant. They hadn't had to board up windows or keep salt close at hand, hold fire and iron close to keep away those that would suck the essence out of their bodies. His ears lower and lay flat against his head, and his heart sinks by a mile.]

[She shouldn't have had to see that.]

pinches your cheeks it's never too late

[catpiper]

[It's easy for her to recognize signs of distress among cats, among wildlife and nature around her. Cats puff up to appear larger when they're scared, sometimes shrink away to hide themselves in small spaces when they're outmatched-people are far harder to understand, but she finds Ed's appearance useful now. She doesn't move closer to him, but the nonverbal response she's seeing is enough to make her feel more comfortable. Like he's not going to lash out and attack in the wake of that memory.

Her voice is cautious, hesitant, and shaky from her own telltale fear, but she does want to try and understand. The memory doesn't fit with the kind man she knows.]

Why were you fighting?

[solperierat]

I...it's hard to explain.

[Edward kneels down, tail curled around himself and wings furled tight against his back. He keeps his voice soft, just loud enough to carry to Ren and be heard.]

People like me...monsters like me, when the fog rolls in, we get bigger, and stronger. But at the same time we kind of...lose our minds a bit. The stuff that makes us angry, that we obsess over, they get bigger and even more stupid. And I'm the kind that just gets angry at everything.

[He sighs in a small huff of breath, glancing to the side.]

And obviously, those nymphs didn't take kindly to my way of blowing off steam.

[catpiper]

[That's not a trait shared by the creatures in her world-the fog came in sometimes, but the monsters and ghosts never became stronger in a physical sense. It became difficult to maneuver around them when they blended into the fog, even she had to wander through familiar areas with caution because the clouds sometimes hid them. But she could edge herself away from their grip and run off before they could reach her.

The disparity between their two worlds makes her pause, trying to assess this memory with the information he just gave her versus what she already knows. His body is curled up, like he's scared, and even though he says monsters like him, she thinks it must be the human aspect of him that forces him to fall back on his anger like that when the world gets blurry. To feel scared, maybe, looking back on his past actions now.

And she doesn't know if there's a right or wrong here-they were fighting, that's bad. They were fighting because something scary made them feel like they had too and it she knows Ed, for whatever anger he holds in his heart, is the type of person to hold someone's hand and guide them to safe places. There's a bit of hesitation in her voice and she doesn't move any closer to him-not yet.]

Will a big blanket hide you? If the fog doesn't see you, will you stay happy?

[solperierat]

[He huffs out a very soft laugh, shaking his head. It's so innocent, very much the logic of a child well out of their depth that's doing her best.]

No, the Fog God's power is a lot more clever than that, unfortunately. Even when I stayed in a building where the fog can't touch me, it still happened.

[But that was in the Fog God's domain, with nothing else to really oppose her. Maybe he could avoid the effects here...but there's never been a fog worth noting. Unless the weather and climate changes drastically Ed is fairly certain he won't ever need to worry about it.]

I'm better at controlling myself when I'm like that now. And I found a junk yard that no one really cared about me trashing up when I needed to break something. ...the last thing I want is to hurt any of you.

[catpiper]

[She believes him.

No matter what kind of uncontrollable rage overcomes him in the fog, it's not totally him. She'll try to remember that on days when the clouds cover the island and hope he's able to retain some kind of hold on his kind personality.

But his explanation does bring up some questions.]

Fog god? Someone like the Storyteller? Is that 'god' here too?

[solperierat]

Mnn...yeah, she's something like they are. If she were to show up here things would be a lot different--and I think she's trapped on that peninsula, anyway.

[He growls softly, but shakes his head and stifles it quickly.]

She never walked around like the Storyteller does--I don't know she even had a physical form. Or if she did she didn't think it was worth her time to do so. She was more interested in getting us monsters to do her bidding.

[catpiper]

She's scary.

[That's the grand takeaway from all this. That god doesn't have the same kind heart the Storyteller does, from the sound of it, and she really wants nothing to do with her. She can only hope, for Ed and everyone else's sake, that she doesn't arrive on the island.]