Active Tales of the Phantasmagoria - The Shadow of Blackmarrow [A Red Dream]

[Mephisto]

---

How many tales begin and end
Between the bindings of a thread
Dashing heroes charging into danger
Disappearing forever into the ether

We are here, we are free
In the endless in-between
Dance, throw your hands high
Smile and remember nothing

These are the songs we'll never sing again
The friends we'll meet somewhere else
The road that winds into forever
And it all begins...

Once upon a time...
​

---

This is not real.

None of it is real.

You fell asleep while reading a storybook.

It was something you discovered on the side of the road, purchased for simple copper coin, or perhaps found in the back corner of a library. The source of the literature does not matter.

Your mind processes it as little more than a phantasm of dreary nightly hibernation. It is a deep slumber, deeper than normal. You can relax knowing that you are breathing. You can inhale, exhale, eat, drink, and even rest - yet this does not produce further dreams, for you can only watch yourself sleep as you recover. The rules of the dream are... not yet defined to you.

You know that you share this dream with others. You do not know them yet. You know that you are in a village, surrounded by sweet smells of fresh pastries and roasting meat. Vegetable gardens overflow with produce. The inn is serving breakfast as the roosters make their voices known. It is peaceful. It is quiet.

But something about it doesn't feel right. Even beyond the fact that this is indeed a dream, it does not feel like an entirely pleasant dream. There are many friendly faces around you, though they seem to be busy with their own lives.

Music comes traipsing out from the open door to the inn. Stereotypical as it may be, it is welcoming and warm. Voices are starting to sing. Children laugh and play, dogs joining them in their unspoken games.

What do you do?

---

| Revi | Cutiefly |​

 

[Revi]

Lona Morgan

Character Sheet E
Language - "Common" (Native Speaker)
Language - {Sylvan} F
Language - [Terran] F
~
Alchemy E
Medicine E
Nature E
Fighting Style [Polearm] E - Area E 15ft - Selective E
Attentive Student F
Pocket Dimension E 10ft

The scent of roasting meat lingered in the air, thick with the warmth of fresh bread and the earthy undertones of damp soil. Morning sunlight stretched long across cobbled paths, dusted with the last whispers of dawn's chill. The village was… peaceful. Too peaceful.

Lona furrowed her brow, blinking against the golden light.

The last thing she remembered was… reading. A book. She had been sitting somewhere, thumbing through its pages, absorbed in words that seemed to pull at the edges of her mind like half-remembered dreams.

She had read until the world around her faded into sleep.

And now she was here.

It wasn't the first time she'd woken somewhere unexpected. But this time, there was no jolt of alarm, no sharp-edged memory of how she got there. Just this place, settling around her like it had been waiting.

Her fingers absently brushed the strap of her satchel, finding it just as it should be - its weight familiar, its contents undisturbed. A bell on her necklace tinkled faintly with her movements. Both should be comforting. They weren't.

Because something about this village was off.

Children's laughter rang too perfectly, the scent of food too balanced between sweet and savoury, lacking the imperfections of real life. The world was pleasant in a way that felt… curated. Manufactured. A storybook town lifted from the page plucked straight from some idyllic scene.

And yet.

The more she looked, the more she felt like she was supposed to be here. The roads felt well-trodden beneath her feet, the buildings familiar despite their strangeness. The sensation wasn't unwelcome - it was like stepping into a place she had visited in another life.

The inn ahead bustled with life, warmth spilling from the open door. It was a good place to start - where people gathered, as did their stories. But Lona didn't head straight inside just yet. Her gaze flicked over the market stalls, the baker's shop, the locals moving about their morning routines.

If something was wrong here, someone would know it.

She just had to figure out who was willing to talk.

"Good morning! I wonder if I may ask you some questions?"

Spoiler: Abilities

• Crescent Harvest E - 1 Post Cooldown
  • Fighting Style [Polearm] E, Area E, Selective E
    • An attack that sweeps a large area 15ft in radius while allowing the character to choose who is affected by their weapon style abilities when used at range or in wide areas.
• Flask Strike E - 1 Post Cooldown [2 Actions]
  • Fighting Style [Polearm] E, Alchemy E, Alchemist's Satchel [Gear] F, Area E, Selective E
    • During combat, character throws a small alchemical flask filled with acid and swings the polearm weapon at it to direct it towards an enemy in a 15ft radius for acid damage, while selectively avoiding allies.
• Natural Insight E - 1 Post Cooldown
  • Nature E
    • Character analyzes and identifies any plant, animal, or environmental element so long as it is naturally occurring.
• Basic Brewcraft E - 1 Post Cooldown
  • Alchemy E, Alchemist's Satchel [Gear] F
    • Character can craft very simple alchemical concoctions, and she can also rapidly ferment beverages. #priorities
• Combat Medic E - 1 Post Cooldown
  • Medicine E, Medicine Supply Pack F [Gear]
    • Character can perform first aid in the field.
• Quick Harvest E - 1 Post Cooldown
  • Pocket Dimension E, Nature E, Fighting Style [Polearm] E, Selective E, Area E
    • Character identifies items to harvest in nature and selectively gathers them within a 15ft radius of herself to store in pocket dimension.

Tags: Mephisto | Cutiefly

Coded by: I made dis.

 

[Cutiefly]

Dr. Renji Yoshida​

Height: 6ft (183cm)
Titles: Human, Mad Scientist

Spoiler: Titles

Racial:
Human - Normal human, plain and featureless. A blank slate full of potential.

Skill Related:
Mad Scientist - The owner has experimented on others before and won't hesitant to do so. Be aware.

Stats:
Strength | F Grade
Precision | E Grade
Intelligence | D Grade
Vitality | D Grade
Speed | F Grade
Color: #008080 | Link to Sheet

Abilities Active: N/A - will be spoilered if ability
Abilities Used: N/A - will be spoilered if ability
Passives:
Regeneration | F Grade | 6 Posts
Composed | F Grade | 6 Posts
Resilient [Fear, Aging] | F Grade
Possessions:

Spoiler: Equipment

• Reinforced Lab Coat [Heavy Armor] | F Grade | 7 Points
  • Lab coat reinforced with some type of armor. That's it.
• Handgun | F Grade | 7 Points
  • Gun for self defense. Nothing special.

To say these circumstances were annoying was an understatement. The scientist was used to being thrown into chaos, so being in a completely different place didn't deter him whatsoever. He had dealt with rebellious subjects over thousands of years and had nearly managed to complete the project until he had to unplug it and be teleported to this... world of fantasy. The world was interesting, to say the least, full of similar fantasy creatures he was used to.

He was minding his own business when something teleported him here. The village was just like any other fantasy village, full of life, with people just getting on with their own life. But it was odd. They took no real notice of him or the human in front of him. Renji knew this could be a trap or something much worse, but he kept his wits about him. He needed to be sure what was exactly going on.

"I see you're trapped here too, miss. They don't seem to notice us." He spoke loudly as he walked over. He had the appearance of a handsome guy, with his blonde hair and grey eyes and looked to be in his 30s. Many had fallen victim to his schemes in his old world as nobody suspected the harmless-looking guy to be problem when it came to people going missing or murders. "Where are my manners? I am Dr. Yoshida. And you are?" The same friendly greeting he had towards those that he was going to use.

Above all else, he was intending to at least manipulate this woman to get to the bottom of this. A means to an end. This was his world, and he would rebuild from the ground up to get his precious project back, no matter the cost.

Mephisto Revi Irihi

 

[Irihi]

Irihi Spokelse
​

Equipped Titles: Dead, Fae, Wanted by the Eastern Empire
Mentions: Cutiefly Revi Mephisto

The day did not darken, nor did a chill wind blow. The laughter of children, the music from the Inn, they were as unreal and hollow as before; they no more covered the wails of the damned than they had before.

It just felt like it.

Those alive; those with actual souls to reap might find their attention drawn to the bowing of leylines as something, this way, came. It looked like an elfmaid, dressed in a grey cloak with cowl thrown back, sunlight attempting--and failing--to glisten upon her sable locks. Likewise, no glow of life, no reflection from sheen of perspiration upon living flesh graced her pale sallow cheeks. Only the eyes in her matte countenance seemed real. They were pale lilac, like faded fabric washed of most of its color, and they, alone, reflected any light of the unreal world around her.

Whatever this elfmaid-shaped thing was, it seemed rather cross as it wended its way between buildings, stalked across he village square, and halted before the two other’s present.

{{“I was expecting more souls.”}} Irihi grumped, in proto-sylvan, that would be more-or-less comprehensible to Lona, but likely lost on Dr. Yoshida. {{“You two hardly seem worth the effort,”}} she said as she crossed her arms.

A ruby-nailed index finger tapped the arm where it rested as her eyes shifted from side-to-side, a slight scowl deepening as more and more murder-less moments passed. Irihi’s eyes narrowed. “Well…?” she said, switching to the language of the foul monkey-men. “Do either of you object to me breaking stuff until someone worth killing appears?” Though her expression did not lighten, Irihi was proud of herself for being such a considerate soul monster. See? I have tact; I asked nicely, before I blew this collection of twigs and dung huts to ash and flinders.

 

[Mephisto]

---

| Revi | Cutiefly | Irihi |​

---

Your varying curiosities whilst peering deeper into the dream do not go unnoticed. Faceless though they are, the masses continue their pace and silent musings amongst themselves. Soon, the inn becomes your designated surrounding, either drifting along the ebb and flow of this strange reality or swallowing you much in the same way as an invisible nightmare. None can say for certain, for the sleep is so integral to your new existence.

None of it is real.

Yet, for every sight and sound you could perhaps convince yourself that it... just might be - if only for a moment.

"Hello," a voice chimed in from a bulbous man behind the bar.

"Hello!" another carried the rhythm of a barbershop quartet from a spindly waiter standing in the belly of the dining hall.

"Hello~" a third from the back, a beefy and balding chef.

"Hellooo..." a fourth, this time from one of the rooms as a custodian emerged.

They were all redheaded men of similar - perhaps exact - age, with matching curly mustaches.

"Welcooome to our villaaage
Welcooome to the shooow
We'd love to see you stay
And we'd hate to see you go"​

They sang in perfect unison, practiced or manufactured in such a way that their voices never once fractured from each other.

"What can we do for you?
You're our honored guest
We're all named Paul
So what is your request?"
​

---

 

[Irihi]

Irihi Spokelse

​

Equipped Titles: Dead, Fae, Wanted by the Eastern Empire
Mentions: @cutifly Revi Mephisto

Irihi drew in a long, unneeded, breath. Then she let it out again. “Paul,” she said, “please go fetch me the sheriff, councilman, mayor, prince, or king of this miserab--charming fiefdom; whatever the highest authority you have the pull to bring to me. I have important business with them.”

Her arms had not uncrossed, nor had her feet moved, yet now she found herself within the sing-song Inn. If this is a dream induced by only a singular soul, they’d better be a ****ing powerful witch or warlock. the elfmaid thought with petulant annoyance.

The elfmaid glanced aside at the two other souls present. “Shall I take your silence as acquiescence, dearhearts?” Irihi inquired. The elfwitch was not completely sure just where or what this was. She also did not care overmuch. Summoning a ghoul eye might tell her more, but necromancy tended to alarm the locals. Irihi really did prefer peace to violence. She preferred eternal peace even more. So long as her victims those around her did not perceive the danger they were in, her job was made all the simpler. Once the running and screaming began--well, things tended to get a bit messy and stressful. For how short and miserable their lives were, these hairless baboons certainly liked to cling to their mortal coils.

If only the War for The Weapon of the Mad King could be brought to these benighted lands. During its bloodsoaked days and nights, the ageless ones and their pale perverted reflections had done the killing for her. Likewise had the humans and the greenskins--and even those nasty little half-things--had gleefully slain each other by the thousands with all manner of infernal machine; from simple bows to inventive siege weapons. Irihi blinked, stopping herself from becoming too lost in her reverie. Those days were done; now she must needs reap from far more fallow fields.

Speaking of which… she regarded her companions with narrowed eyes and a single upraised feather brow. “My name is Irihi Spokelse, dearhearts. Might I know the names of those I wi--” she stopped herself and seemed to correct her thought mid-sentence. “...might I know your names, and what brings you to this place?” she asked, secretly hoping that at least one of the answers would be “murder.”