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Immortal Desires Detritus's GURPS World of Darkness PbP game.

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Old 10-05-2010, 05:56 AM
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Detritus Detritus is offline
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Default The Lady whispers (Jocelin, time indeterminate)

You see them before you, the malevolent eyes aglow with a vivid green, the powerful jaw below a slavering mouth filled with sharp teeth, the wounds bleeding a sickly orange substance that heal even as they bleed, the fur covering the towering form of the man-wolf hybrid matted down by the orange blood. A moment passes when you realize the magnitude of your tactical blunder, followed immediately by silvery claws burying themselves in your chest. You feel pain for an instant, accompanied by the feeling that your very soul is about to be ripped in two, when all goes black.

You waken, but the blackness remains. You find yourself in some sort of formless existence, surrounded, you somehow sense, by an expansive void that stretches endlessly in all directions. Panic begins to well up, but from where you cannot say. Having no body upon which the sensation can be anchored, you seem to be afflicted by the Platonic essence of fear. Suddenly you sense a soft, susurrating whisper from somewhere.

This way.

Somehow – you would be unable to explain how even while doing it – you orient yourself to the direction from which the whisper came. Yet you find yourself immobile, unable to draw any closer to your murmured lifeline.

This way.

With the return of the whisper you are granted an instinctive knowledge of how to move through the nothingness. A second passes, or perhaps it’s a century, when you hear it again.

This way.

The whisper, though still soft, sounds louder. Encouraged by this development, you speed along in the direction the words are drawing you. Another indistinct second-or-century period of time elapses, when the words are repeated once more.

This way.

In the distance, a speck of light becomes visible from the direction the words are coming from. You speed towards it, though at first the speck hardly seems to change size at all.

This way.

You attempt to redouble your efforts to approach the light, and are rewarded with the sight of the gradually increasing size of the speck. It resolves into a human form, vaguely familiar to you, though you’re unable to perceive any details that would permit you to understand the familiarity you feel.

This way.

The form beckons to you as it continues to grow. Shortly thereafter, and you’re sure of this conclusion without knowing how you know, you recognize Antoinette of all people. Her body is translucent and glows faintly with a soft inner light of pure white. Momentarily taken aback at seeing your friend like this, you halt your advance.

This way.

The words come once more, though Antoinette does not move her lips. She beckons again, and you’re drawn towards her, impelled by a force outside your own volition. You come closer to her, and closer still, until you merge into her form. She turns, carrying you along, and begins to walk. A terrible moment of awareness that is both vast in scope yet minute in detail assails your being, and then the blackness returns.


After your second awakening, you’re instantly struck by the feel of soft turf beneath you, and that you’re leaning against something hard and cool. You spring to your feet, once again possessed of a body, and look upwards at the night sky.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with the Lady.”

You spin around, chagrined at letting someone sneak up on you, to find a man outfitted in white robes that are somehow both simple and fit for a king approaching you.

“I must apologize for any unseemly stealth in my approach, but the Lady informs me that we may have guests of a sort, visitors who might attempt to call via the Black Gate. She seemed to think that it was connected to you in some way, though she did not explain how. There’s little doubt in my mind that something’s afoot; Gwen has called for the scabbard, which she rarely does. That is omen enough for me, though how it is to be read, I cannot say.”

The man shrugs as if to beginning to remove his robe, and produces an apple in each of his hands. He tosses one to you, which you catch by reflex, and begins to munch on the apple he kept. You look at your apple uncertainly, and manage to stammer, “Um, thanks.”

“I think you’ll find it nourishing enough,” the man says after finishing his first bite. “Yes, even you, Jocelin. Some of your compatriots have already availed themselves of the refreshments available at Ynys yr Afalon, while looking for you, as a matter of fact, and are none the worse for wear. Unless I’m badly mistaken, you’ll need to keep your strength up.”

The man takes another bite of his apple, and gestures for you to follow his example. You’re timid in your compliance, but when you bite into your apple, it tastes sweeter than anything you can remember ever having eaten in your mortal days. Renewed vigor spreads through your limbs, and a contented smile comes over your lips as you chew.

“That’s a good girl. You’re free to stay in the shrine as long as you like, of course,” the man says. “Or if you need seconds, there’s plenty of fruit in the orchards. I’ll be in the tower. If you need anything, just call for Arthur.” The man turns and begins walking towards a tower placed upon the only hilltop within sight, leaving you by yourself to ponder his words.
Hast thou seen my anointed, TEBOW?
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