Neverwhere: Play Thread

[Vandread]

I feel light

Duran woke up to a warmth he had never felt before. It was as if the breath of life renewed his body, giving him another chance to forge his path. Then, something strange rippled through his body. It felt invading, as if a force was threatening to rip into him. It felt as though something inside of him had changed...something that could never be undone. The man only hoped that it wouldn't consume him.

He felt a body on him, an alien feeling that never really was stout with him. He couldn't respond as he felt the figure rise. His eyes opened to see Lethe standing before him, eyes looking away.

He heard the words Lethe spoke, but how to respond. There were a million things going on through his head, but nothing remotely important bubbled to the surface. There was only one thing he could say...

"It's all right." Duran said, trying his best to stand, but stumbled back. He looked at Lethe, trying his best to smile in hopes of lightening the mood.

((OOC:Oi, how to respond indeed! ^^))

[Phantom Angel]

"Don't try to stand, it takes a while for the warmth to settle within your body," the velvet whispered softly, not yet daring to look in the face of the man he had almost killed.

He gave him back to me so that we may continue on our journey. He gave me a second chance to prove myself... to deliver Duran to Him unharmed. He gave me a second chance at it, a second chance to try... the Velvet silenced his tumultous thoughts, willing calm back into his mind.

What was done was done; a rule of the Underground was forget and let live. Lethe wasn't planning on repeating his mistake.

"You should try to sleep to rest. We need to get out of here as soon as possible," the Velvet informed him.

If Madame M found out about his return... there would be trouble. For the first time ever, Lethe could not wait to be away from Lancaster and its dangers.

It'll be best if we are reunited with the others soon. The chances of finding Him with their help are greater, he thought tiredly, and tiredly sat on the chair beneath the window.

The hollow sounds of the imaginary waves crashing against the illusory shore echoed pleasantly in his ears.

[Ekaterini]

Following behind China and Gustav to the Boogieman's library, Gris had remained silent and suspiciously watchful, ever ready to dodge claws, tantacles or Lord knew what else the Boogieman kept as henchmen. But the creatures kept hidden in the harsh shadows, and no one tarried behind to tempt them otherwise.

The Boogieman's library was a sharp contrast to the area in which it was situated. One could practically label it as comfortable had but the guests thought it belonged to another, less fearsome master. In Gris's opinion, it coaxed one into relaxing one's guard despite the presense of the Boogieman, something that Gris refused to do. After all, they were only "safe" because China was around.

Hopping onto a leather chair, Gris sat cross-legged and cautiously leaned back into the cushiony "flesh." The arms did not come to life and grab him. The only noise the chair uttered was the soft creak of the pliant leather. Thus momentarily reassured, Gris waited wordlessly with the others who had also taken seats around the room. The Boogieman however seemed to be holding a conversation with Gustav. Poor chap.

It was then that, previously unnoticed as it matched the wallpapering, a small square door in the wall against which the buffet table stood opened wide with a loud click. The guests, save China, jumped at the sound. The door was level with the tabletop, and from the darkness within came five silver trays filled with delectables--meat pies, tarts, fruits, cheeses, hot scones, and bowls of steaming soup--that caught everyone's attention immediately. Yet after noticing the food, they noticed how the trays seemed to be moving by themselves, sailing an inch above the table's surface. And after the trays, in a similar fashion, came goblets of red wine gliding smoothly over the table so that the liquid they held hardly stirred. Following the plates came glinting white china plates, and then freshly pressed napkins. Finally, weaving with precision around the objects already sitting on the table, the trays, goblets, plates, and napkins spaced themselves neatly across the buffet table, creating a inviting supper array.

Everyone, again save China, gaped at the moving supper. Gris however, who was sitting closest to the table, noticed something like..fuzz beneath each of the trays, plates, etc. Walking over on his feet so that he could look down upon the table, Gris inspected the tableware. It *was* fuzz. Fuzz with EYES. "You've gotto come see this," he said to the others, amusement and disbelief in his voice. Maghenna and Mac hurried over to see what he was talking about. Indeed, it had been quarter-sized fuzzballs with eyes carrying the food and drink. Gris bent down close to the table, studying the miniscule servants. Their task done, and coming out from underneath their burdens, the little balls of gray fluff peered back with round, black-pupilled eyes blinking owlishly. Some chattered among themselves, in small garbled voices.

His curiousity getting the better of him, Gris stuck out a finger to touch one of the fuzzballs, expecting in the worse case scenario to be bitten. His mistake.

*ZTT* "Yowch!" The borderliner quickly pulled back his finger, shook it while suppressing curses, and stuck the injured digit in his mouth.

"Hey, what happened?" Mac asked.

"Va wiwel bwaita shot ma!"

"What? Shot? Get your finger out of your mouth."

"The little blighter shocked me!"

"Shocked..?"

"Yes, shocked! As in electrically. Bloody hell, it's like I put my finger in a power socket." Gris continued nursing his finger. The little fuzzballs giggled like tiny chipmunks. The little fuzz that had electrocuted Gris however seemed to be fizzing and spitting curses of his own and looked entirely unapologetic.

((OOC: Blah, I'm tired. Have fun, eat, mind the fuzzballs.))

[Kayay]

“Of course I know how it works,” the Tinman snapped irritably. Admitting that he, Elli… - No, he was just The Tinman now, a rusting Clockwork Zombie - one of the greatest minds below London, had received help in one of his experiments put him in a bad mood, not that he was often in a good mood. “It was, though,” he continued sourly, “a joint effort.” The Artificer peered at Wilburt. “Without him I can repair and create more of them,” he explained with a gesture to the small creations scurrying about, “but you’re searching for something bigger. The rites that allow them to operate Above for a limited time and range would be useless upon a larger creation; there’s not enough power, and that’s what you want, isn’t it? Pipedreams!” he snorted.

“Although…” The Junkman paused thoughtfully, the scientist in him fascinated by the idea that began to form, and for what felt like the first time in ages a spark of excitement weakly flickered. “If you found the stone Oz is rumored to keep I could use that. “

Again he fell into reflective silence, puffs of steam hissing from his joints, gears working deep within his mechanical body, and the occasional “drip, drip” or oil from some leaky valve punctuating his silence. It seemed he wasn’t about to volunteer more information without a little tactful persuasion.

[Magicfangirl]

"O-oh," Gustav stared at the creature, and unconsciously he began to rub his throat. "They...they'd heal. It wasn't bad. I d-deserved-"

It seemed as if the temperature had just suddenly spiked up, and his turtleneck felt to tight. There was no possible way he could let himself complete that sentence.

"It was a long time ago." A dull sound of his quickened heartbeat could be heard, but it went unnoticed by Gustav as he continued to rub his neck.

“Time is relative, time is nothing, both truth and fiction. ‘*The passage of time is simply an illusion created by our brains.’” His voice was like whispering shadows and the creaking of old tree limbs. “Have they really healed, Boy, or do you still feel the pressure of fingers against your skin?”

Every touch, every blow, Gustav could remember each one clear as the day. Not being able to forget was a curse more then anything, and trying to blindfold himself to the memories was futile.

"I-I can still..." With thin fingers he could trace on healed skin where each bruise or cut used to be. "I can't see them, so what does it matter?"

She stood less than two feet away, bright blue eyes watching the hushed exchanged between the two, but for whatever reason China made no move to intervene. The Boogieman hunched lower, his lips curled into a smile, exposing sharp teeth, but the voice, except for it’s usual unpleasantness, was not threatening. He spoke in a matter of fact one. “’ What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear that which disfigures it.’ Of course it in matters. You can still remember, and if you remember you can feel, and if you feel then it is very much real. ’ H' had got a hurt o' th' inside of a deadlier sort.’ Do you understand?” He pulled back, still wearing a predator's grin. “From under beds and inside dark closets I've watched. It is a story I have seen many a time, played out on many a stage with only a few difference and a new cast, and during the dénouement the hero must triumph or fall into the abyss. And do you know what waits in the abyss, Boy?”

Gustav shivered, "N-no. I don't." The boy looked around the Boogieman, staring at China was pleading eyes. She said he was safer here, and he didn't doubt the wise little girl. It was the sudden attention to his past that terrified him.

“Him. I am nightmares and things that lurk in shadows. I am fear and the terror that steals your breath and closes upon your heart, and as you are now you are quite the tasty morsel, easy prey were you not my guest, but the realm of despair and madness is another’s.” China cleared her throat, and he stepped back, giving Gustav some breathing room then patted Gustav on the head like one would a small child. “’ I must be cruel only to be kind.’ Even I do not wish that upon you.”

The touch was light, but because of reopened wounds it made him shiver. "T-Thank you." The blond smiled weakly, I am easy prey...it doesn't surprise me.

Laughing, an ugly, grating laugh, the beast walked away, and as he did so China moved towards the shaken Gustav, leading him to the nearest chair. “Above he is not nearly as powerful as here.” Her voice was pitched low and soft and for Gustav’s ears only. “The Boogieman is a Legendary, and their influence weakens Upworld. True, he is one of those few able to exist Above, and he is dangerous, never forget that, but he never lingers long. And even here he has his limitations. We all do.”

"That's nice to know." Gustav said, while taking a seat. "I guess I should learn not to be surprised anymore."


((OOC: *Quotes in order - Julian Barbour, Lord Byron (Childe Harold), Samuel Butler (Hudibras), Shakespeare.))

[Kayay]

From a round parquet table with spindly legs, the Boogieman removed a cowhide – or it looked like leather although the texture and color seemed wrong somehow – eyeglasses case. He seated himself in the room’s largest and most ornate chair, removing a set of spectacles from the case and settling them atop his snout. “Help yourself,” he said absently and gestured to the table of food and drink. “It is all quite safe, I assure you.”

For a few tense minutes he flipped through the pages of China’s gift, enraptured by the book. Finally he set it aside with great care and reverence, cleared his throat, and looked to his guests. “So… what is it you want this time, Little One, and why do you bring strangers to me? A snack perhaps?” He chuckled, a most unpleasant sound.

“Something is wrong. Creatures from the lower levels are wandering to the upper levels.”

“I see. And so you come to me. What ‘creatures’ exactly do you speak of?”

“Various creatures, but the most organized have attacked Elinas’ Hole.” China turned to Maghenna, a sign that the girl tell her part of the tale.

[Kazuki]

Maghenna, having been guided to a chair by Mac, sat, oblivious to China’s attention until the child spoke.

“Maghenna?”

“Hmm? Oh, right.” She thought for a moment before beginning. When she spoke again, her voice had a strange quality to it, faint, half-imagined echoes of older voices resonating from the shadows. “Several millennia ago, Momma’s children were driven from this world by treacherous, psychotic beings claiming to serve some greater good, and accusing others of corruption whilst failing to see the evil growing within their own ranks. They declared their intent to purge us of the impure, and then attacked the conclave called to discuss our response. An entire caste was destroyed in one strike, and we then knew that they had no intention of weeding out corrupt from pure, they merely sought genocide. We made them pay for every inch they took, of course, but they were always the more powerful warriors, and so we were driven back, forced to retreat into the spirit lands hoping that we might be able to return in time. But I suppose you knew all that, didn’t you?” Maghenna shuddered slightly and spoke again, her voice once again her own. “They’ve returned. They attacked Elinas’, and I only just managed to escape. They’ve been following me since, I don’t know what they want, but I guess that they’re hunting me because I serve Momma. Apparently you might know something about them, what they want, why they haven’t killed me already.” As an afterthought, she added “Also, is there anything I can do to get my sight back? I took up the strain after we lost contact with our seeker halfway through a tunnel, and I don’t think the Darkness wanted to let go.”

[Kayay]

“Unscrupulous, dishonorable plebeians,” the Boogieman muttered. His eyes had narrowed into yellow slits behind the carefully balanced reading glasses. “Tis treachery layered upon treachery.”

“Your sight? ‘Eyes, tho' clear to outward view of blemish or of spot, bereft of light, their seeing have forgot. Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, or man, or woman.’ A simple enough task to deal with.” He removed his glasses and set them aside. The wood of the chair creaked as he rose, and his footfalls, muffled by carpets layered on the floor, made less noise than wind tossed autumn leaves. “Sensitive are some to Darkness’ touch, but the blindness is rarely permanent; however, a sightless Ratspeaker is a ludicrous thing, so I bestow upon you a temporary gift.”

The smoke seeped out of his very pores, thickening and wrapping about his hulking form like a thing alive. Like ink bleeding onto paper, shadows crept into the milky white mist, turning it into a coil of black smoke that expanded to embrace Maghenna. One sharp claw gripped her chin with surprising care, lifting her head so sightless eyes met his, and within the darkness that had stolen the girl’s sight those eyes burned. For a few heartbeats there was only Darkness and his eyes then vague shapes began to emerge, shadows among shadows. Eventually edges sharpened, and Maghenna’s world materialized as a monocolor palette, like the view through an infrared lens or an ancient black and white movie, yet the image was out of focus everywhere but immediately in front where it resolved into perfect clarity, and peripheral vision was even more dim and indistinct. However, where color and sharpness had been sacrificed her sense of motion was acute. Oddly, the only color that remained in this blurred, gray world were his eyes, narrow slits of smoldering yellow that regarded her with such cold intensity that one might wonder if there could ever be true warmth in such eyes.

“You could have banished the Darkness,” China spoke, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

“I could have, but it is best sometimes to let things run their natural course.” His smile was secretive, holding some exclusive knowledge the two shared, and, surprisingly, it was China who looked away first.

The Boogieman addressed Maghenna again. “It is akin to Nightvision, but whilst that rite cannot piece the magical darkness this will.” He seemed pleased with himself and amused as he returned to his chair. “But the effects are temporary. As your true vision returns it will fade. It should not be more than a few days.”

“Now onto the topic of these creatures chasing after the Ratspeaker, yes I am familiar with them and their ways, but first,” his lips curled back into a smile again, “let’s make this more interesting.” Some stiffened, put on guard by whatever he might next ask of them, and he laughed. “Worry not; your lives are safe whilst my guests. It would be terribly rude of me to offer my hospitality then kill you, especially when you’ve all been such pleasant, well mannered guests. It’s most refreshing to talk with people other than the common riff raff and their dismal intellect, thus I ask only to make this exchange of information a little more entertaining.”

“Riddles,” China said.

“Yes, riddles; each may guessonce, and there is no penalty for an incorrect reply. Then we shall talk some more of the Nameless Ones. So shall we begin?” He leaned back in his seat in a posture of relaxation.

” The beginning of eternity,
The end of time and space,
The beginning of every end,
The end of every place.

What am I?”

[Magicfangirl]

The blond kept a steady gaze on the ground while the darkness played with Maghenna, and didn't move an inch as the Boogieman quoted a riddle.
Through his many years alive, he had only come across a few riddles or brain teasers. This was not one of them.


Replaying the riddle in his mind, there was little doubt the answer to the riddle was probably easier then to be expected. "There is no penalty?" Gustav paused, then looked up from the ground to the Legendary. "Is it...The letter 'E'?"

[Kayay]

“Excellent! A correct guess on your first try.” One clawed hand held a porcelain teacup from which the demon Lord – a creature that could and had undoubtedly committed violent acts throughout its long existence - took small, polite sips. It was an odd scene. The china clinked softly, musically when he set it down upon the side table. “How about another?”

“John gave his brother James a box:
About it there were many locks.
James woke and said it gave him pain;
So gave it back to John again.
The box was not with lid supplied,
Yet caused two lids to open wide;
And all these locks had never a key-
What kind of box, then, could it be?”


((OOC: Riddle courtesy of Lewis Carroll. FYI, the more correct replies and fewer incorrect guesses the better their standing with him, but try it w/o help first.))

[Cetacious]

(OOC: Long delay - long post)

"Oh, Great!" Wilburt yelled out angrily "That's just... Great! Well I guess it couldn't be that easy anyway, could it? No... Why do I do those things? Why do I do that? Amadan! Amadan! You bloody amadan!" He started banging his right hand against his metal head, making a noisy pan sound that echoed in all tunnels. "It HAD to be as good as impossible! It had to!"

The doubt became certainty, the itch became pain. Oh, what a pain! Not just the dead asistant, no. This guy was worse than dead, most people would actually assure with scientific arguments he had never existed. But there he was, actually believing he could get the strangest thing under the earth for a cup of coffee. And there he was yet, refusing to believe his senseless dreams were actually impossible. Somebody bind this stupid stupid amadan, he's completely crazy and brainless! Somebody throw me onto a recycling site before I start with this nonsense all over again!

Green plants

Get out of my head! It's a voice in my head and it's not me, the me before me is not me! Shut up! Let me go!
What would Wilburt actually be if he had no past? He could not see life in black and white and still be Wilburt. He could not be born without knowing the tubes and still be Wilburt. He has made quite some choices before coming down here. He chose to be Wilburt. He? Rather the Wilburt before Wilburt. They are different characters somehow; he's right on that. But that's what Wilburt is about, after all.
Well, now here we are, me and myself, the two of us. Hello, other self of mine. I never thought I'd be the kind of guy with a split personality. Maybe I'll be chasing myself from now on, but on the other hand at least I'll always have someone to talk to.


Wilburt looked around ourselves again, noticing the curious faces and the pain in his head. All little tinmen had ran away to hide from him, only one had been left behind, still lying motionless and shocked between Wilburt's legs.

"A-I'm... I'm sorry, e-excuse me everyone" he stuttered, "Sudden maniac explosion, I don't use to do that, really. Won't happen again, I promise... Err, Mr. Cal, I think we're pretty much going in the same direction now, so... Heh, don't worry, I'm not absolutely nuts, I'm a real sane and friendly Junkman most of the time, actually. And besides I'm a Seeker, so I could help a lot finding that certain person we all look for now. Would you mind if I come along with you and your party?"

[Lt Zechs]

Having not saying much for most of her tinned life, it was not uncommon for Alyx to remain silent now. And the faintly familiar sight, sound, and feeling of an Artificer's laboratory did not help much to keep Alyx aware of her surroundings and the conversations therein.

It was hard not to recall the memories in such a place, different they may be they still had the same air to them and though Alyx had no nose to speak of, she could still remember the distinct smell of the workshop. To her it was warm, friendly, and inviting, everything a home should be, though she would not say it openly, it was in her eyes, every time she returned, and Wayen saw that.

There he stood in the workshop, half-smiling, half-smiling (she had no other way of describe it) at her, his thoughts obviously eager to be shared with hers and oblivious as to the errand that sent her away in the first place.

"Are you, you ready Alyx?"

"Ready? vhat for?"

"What? What for? What else for for, then for the reason that is to be ready for."

"I do not understand."

"Do you? Do you not, not understand? Or would you?"

"Alyx..."

Alyx forgot the question, as she turned to her side puzzled, she could have sworn something mentioned her name, but in the haze, all she could see was his old rocker chair full of books, glasses, and papers, though even that seemed distant and fading. When she turn back to Wayen his words were drowned out by a loud metallic panging sound and Alyx cupped her hands over her ears to dull the noise as she looked about for the source. But it died out before she could find it and so did the visions of the workshop around her.

Woken from her dream Alyx found herself not standing in her messy workshop but someone else’s, the one standing in the middle was not Wayen, and she wasn't alone with him either, others were here and Alyx had to take a moment to gather her thoughts and realise exactly when and where she was. Not knowing how long she had been out, Alyx remained silent, as she had ever been, listening to those in conversation who had the better courage for such connections.

(OOC: I am so sorry not posting for so long, hope this is alright.)

[Magicfangirl]

The fact that the Legendary seemed to be enjoying himself put Gustav slightly at ease. At least he wouldn't be tortured if he answered wrong.

Undoubtedly after being alive for many years it wouldn't have been surprising if the Boogieman knew loads of riddles, but no matter how many riddles were given it would've ticked him off to flunk even one. The stubbornness was something he would never lose.

"Well," The German thought for a moment, gently tapping his finger to his knee. Then after a bit, he took a guess. "John gave James a...box on the head."

[Vandread]

Duran looked over at Lethe, trying his best to keep on beat with things. He wasn't very tired, but Lethe looked to be exhausted. What could have happened during the time he was out to weaken the velvet? Yes...what could he have been doing...?

I won't dwell on such useless information. All that matters now is getting back to the others. I dread to think what might be happening to everyone. I wonder if Cal and the others are okay as well. After all, saving an entire plane of existence is no easy task to say the least. I just hope we aren't too late.

"We have to get back to the others. I don't feel good relaxing when they could be hurt or even worse. You...look tired Lethe. I think you should rest for now. I'll keep a watch out for things. There is something about this place that bothers me...and I'd rather not be surprised." Duran said, brushing the hair from his line of sight. They had to return...soon.

((OOC: It feels good to post again ^^))

[Kayay]

((OOC: Dang, she’s heard so many riddles. *thinks*))

“ As curly-headed Jemmy was sleeping in bed,
His brother John gave him a blow to the head;
James opened his eyelids, and spying his brother,
Doubled his fist, and gave him another.
This kind of box then is not so rare;
The lids are the eyelids, the locks are the hair,
And so every schoolboy can tell to his cost,
The key to the tangles is constantly lost.”

“Can we now..” China began, but their host interrupted.

“One more, and then we will talk of the Ratkin.”

“ What does man love more than life
Fear more than death or mortal strife
What the poor have, the rich require,
and what contented men desire,
What the miser spends and the spendthrift saves
And all men carry to their graves?”