You step through the rip Cecily had opened and feel a sensation not unlike being torn yourself; part of you is here and part of you is there and you're not sure that all of you will end up either place. But you push forward, lean into there, and suddenly...
You step through the rip Cecily had opened and feel a sensation not unlike being torn yourself; part of you is here and part of you is there and you're not sure that all of you will end up either place. But you push forward, lean into there, and suddenly...
You step through the rip Cecily had opened and feel a sensation not unlike being torn yourself; part of you is here and part of you is there and you're not sure that all of you will end up either place. But you push forward, lean into there, and suddenly...
You step through the rip Cecily had opened and feel a sensation not unlike being torn yourself; part of you is here and part of you is there and you're not sure that all of you will end up either place. But you push forward, lean into there, and suddenly...
[ You are in a fragile, dim place: you can feel potential all around you, but also uncertainty. Only one thing is for sure: you are

(Maleficent?)

a Villain of some kind, determined to curse a pure and innocent Princess for your own designs and fight a Hero over her. This is your purpose, and you must pursue it with all your wicked passion. You feel the tug of this fact, telling you to act in accordance with your own story and the part you play in it.

And yet—

There's something else, isn't there? Or is that just your imagination? Wh͟a̕͞͞t̨̀ ͜͜a̢b̡ǫ̵u̶͝ţ̕ ̷̷fr͘͞i̢͞e̷n̕d̀҉sh̶́͡i̛͞p͏̢ ̶a͜n̸ḑ̴̛ ́͞y͡͡͞o͏̛u̸̧ŕ͠ o͢͞҉ẁń̡̕ f̧͝͞rè̶e̵͞ ͢w҉i̶̶̛l̢l̴͘?̶ ]
[ You are in a fragile, dim place: you can feel potential all around you, but also uncertainty. Only one thing is for sure: you are

(Sleeping Beauty?)

a Princess of some kind, fated to fall under a curse laid by a Villain and need to be rescued by a Prince. This is your purpose, and you must endure it with the purity of your heart. You feel the tug of this fact, telling you to act in accordance with your own story and the part you play in it.

And yet—

There's something else, isn't there? Or is that just your imagination? Wh͟a̕͞͞t̨̀ ͜͜a̢b̡ǫ̵u̶͝ţ̕ ̷̷fr͘͞i̢͞e̷n̕d̀҉sh̶́͡i̛͞p͏̢ ̶a͜n̸ḑ̴̛ ́͞y͡͡͞o͏̛u̸̧ŕ͠ o͢͞҉ẁń̡̕ f̧͝͞rè̶e̵͞ ͢w҉i̶̶̛l̢l̴͘?̶ ]

THE HEROES

Jul. 17th, 2015 02:41 pm
[ You are in a fragile, dim place: you can feel potential all around you, but also uncertainty. Only one thing is for sure: you are

(the Prince?)

a Hero of some kind, with the purpose of rescuing the Princess from the Villain who threatens her. This is your purpose, and you must fight evil and endure any trial that comes your way for its sake. You feel the tug of this fact, telling you to act in accordance with your own story and the part you play in it.

And yet—

There's something else, isn't there? Or is that just your imagination? Wh͟a̕͞͞t̨̀ ͜͜a̢b̡ǫ̵u̶͝ţ̕ ̷̷fr͘͞i̢͞e̷n̕d̀҉sh̶́͡i̛͞p͏̢ ̶a͜n̸ḑ̴̛ ́͞y͡͡͞o͏̛u̸̧ŕ͠ o͢͞҉ẁń̡̕ f̧͝͞rè̶e̵͞ ͢w҉i̶̶̛l̢l̴͘?̶ ]
The room you find yourself in is a bit odd. It's clearly just a white tent with a table and chairs in the middle; on the table is a single picture book. But the walls of the tent have been sloppily painted to look like a room, a bookcase painted on one wall, a bed, a basket of apples. The paint seems wet, elements dripping and blurring into each other and the ground below.
The room you find yourself in is a bit odd. It's clearly just a white tent with a table and chairs in the middle; on the table is a single picture book. But the walls of the tent have been sloppily painted to look like a room, a bookcase painted on one wall, a bed, a basket of apples. The paint seems wet, elements dripping and blurring into each other and the ground below.
The room you find yourself in is a bit odd. It's clearly just a white tent with a table and chairs in the middle; on the table is a single picture book. But the walls of the tent have been sloppily painted to look like a room, a bookcase painted on one wall, a bed, a basket of apples. The paint seems wet, elements dripping and blurring into each other and the ground below.

SUBMISSION

Jun. 29th, 2015 07:15 pm
[All answers are screened]
[You find yourself standing on a circular stone stage, in an open-air theater in the round. You’re at the edge of the stage looking toward its centre; a massive tree is growing up through the stone there, taking up most of your view. Surrounding the stage are tiered seats of gemstones and silver, in Aather team colors. The seats, like the stage, are being overtaken by riotous plantlife; thorny rose vines climb between them here and there, along with patches of moss, glowing flowers, and multicolored morning glories. A few of the seats look like they are in need of serious repair.

Around the stage you will notice that there are seven exits, all equidistant from one another. They are all different shapes, sizes and styles, but it’s oddly hard to pin down specifics from here; you’ll have to step off of the stage in order to differentiate them from each other.

In the seats, though you can't see your audience, you can hear the faint whisper of voices, waiting to see what move you make. You’ll also find two objects in your hand: a fine quill pen, and a crystalline hope seed.]
[You find yourself standing on a circular stone stage, in an open-air theater in the round. You’re at the edge of the stage looking toward its centre; a massive tree is growing up through the stone there, taking up most of your view. Surrounding the stage are tiered seats of gemstones and silver, in Aather team colors. The seats, like the stage, are being overtaken by riotous plantlife; thorny rose vines climb between them here and there, along with patches of moss, glowing flowers, and multicolored morning glories. A few of the seats look like they are in need of serious repair.

Around the stage you will notice that there are seven exits, all equidistant from one another. They are all different shapes, sizes and styles, but it’s oddly hard to pin down specifics from here; you’ll have to step off of the stage in order to differentiate them from each other.

In the seats, though you can't see your audience, you can hear the faint whisper of voices, waiting to see what move you make. You’ll also find two objects in your hand: a fine quill pen, and a crystalline hope seed.]
[You find yourself standing on a circular stone stage, in an open-air theater in the round. You’re at the edge of the stage looking toward its centre; a massive tree is growing up through the stone there, taking up most of your view. Surrounding the stage are tiered seats of gemstones and silver, in Aather team colors. The seats, like the stage, are being overtaken by riotous plantlife; thorny rose vines climb between them here and there, along with patches of moss, glowing flowers, and multicolored morning glories. A few of the seats look like they are in need of serious repair.

Around the stage you will notice that there are seven exits, all equidistant from one another. They are all different shapes, sizes and styles, but it’s oddly hard to pin down specifics from here; you’ll have to step off of the stage in order to differentiate them from each other.

In the seats, though you can't see your audience, you can hear the faint whisper of voices, waiting to see what move you make. You’ll also find two objects in your hand: a fine quill pen, and a crystalline hope seed.]
[Many of Aather's Alumni elsewhere will notice their candles suddenly light, and the Legacies who did not heed the Call from earlier will notice their keys light up. Through the light of both, Snow White's voice can be heard, desperate and weak, as she urgently pleads for their help:]

The Darkness found its way through the tears in the Story and is running a game of it's own, and your friends are in grave danger! I— I tried to help, but it's captured me here and my power is waning.

I can open the door so that you may fight it head-on, but I'm afraid that will be the limit of what I can do. Please, Heroes, help—!
[You're in a grand circular room, the walls and floor and ceiling all made of mirrors. A small incense pot hangs underneath a hole in the middle of the ceiling; the smoke from it smells sweet and strange, with overtones of decay, and makes you feel a little queasy. Overall, it may be quite familiar to a few of you who were present for a certain game in Camelot…]

[As you absorb this, a small, dark stone rolls through the hole in the ceiling and lands in the basket . . . and the whole room moves down a little under your feet.]

[You feel s͠o̧m҉ethin͜g small and alien shift under your flesh in response -- in your arm or your leg or perhaps your chest. There’s no pain (yet), just a heavy numbness where it’s embedded inside you . . .]
[You're in a grand circular room, the walls and floor and ceiling all made of mirrors. A small incense pot hangs underneath a hole in the middle of the ceiling; the smoke from it smells sweet and strange, with overtones of decay, and makes you feel a little queasy. Overall, it may be quite familiar to a few of you who were present for a certain game in Camelot…]

[As you absorb this, a small, dark stone rolls through the hole in the ceiling and lands in the basket . . . and the whole room moves down a little under your feet.]

[You feel s͠o̧m҉ethin͜g small and alien shift under your flesh in response -- in your arm or your leg or perhaps your chest. There’s no pain (yet), just a heavy numbness where it’s embedded inside you . . .]

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