I can't stop using the language deciphered from concept art! (Linked below, I made some letters/symbols of my own to fill the blanks though!) Something about it just makes it so fun to use. Hermes and Fig belong to @oldspikedcollar!
Translations:
Hermes (top left): "You fucking shark... I've got my eye on you."
Figaro (top right): "!!Fig fi figaro!!"
Bottom pic: "Y'know, last time I held a guy's hand, he died ^^"
Thank you skyblr for deciphering the ancient texts
Chart by @lidrens
@pastelpixels suggests: > Inspect the rocks and see what, if anything, lies beyond
------
The sand crunches under my feet as I move forward, step by step, over to the rocks up ahead. Three of them sit mostly upright in the sand, in various states of disrepair, and I pause.
That is... an awfully familiar sight, unfortunately-- the positioning, the design, all scream "not a rock". My ear twitches nervously, and I take a step back, uncertain.
My mask breaks me out of my thoughts before they can delve any further.
"NOT A ROCK, DUMBASS," says the notification that pops up, helpful as ever. A startled laugh escapes me, and I wave the popup away. "No," I agree, "I suppose it isn't just a rock."
Fear subsided, I crouch by the tombstone, brushing sand off of the worn smooth surface. Despite the cracks, the stone looks rather undamaged, as if it's never seen a proper storm-- or, more accurately, as if it got stuck in time somewhere down the line.
My fingers linger on the stone for a moment, dread beginning to bubble in the pit of my stomach again, before I grab it by the scruff and throw it into the ocean.
No.
We are not going through this now, I decide. There's no reason to assume this planet is empty-- though the first sight being tombstones is a little unnerving. I refuse to believe there is no life here other than hostiles, not again.
And if it is...? A little voice inside me whispers, and I scowl.
If it is, it simply isn't anymore. I am here, and I refuse to believe it.
I stand, turning sharply, and walk to the stairs, the cool stone and familiar sound of my staff against something solid clearing my head as I scale them.
I stop at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to get my bearings. The large rock (boulder? Mountain? Listen, I'm not an expert on rock terminology here) that looms before me has, luckily, a cave at its base, well lit enough that I could safely assume that there was an opening on the other side somewhere.
There is also, towards the wall near the entrance, a small bundle of candles.
------
Suggestions:
> Inspect the candles
> Go back to the tombs
Page 3
< Prev // Next > // Tag for scrolling through!
@mindl3ss-kitt3n suggests: > Inspect The Mask (and also your staff)
------
I cross my legs, and pick up the mask from where it lies on my hip, brushing off the last bit of sand clinging to it.
Two pairs of faintly glowing yellow eyes stare up at me, with the set on the damaged side occasionally flickering and going dim before weakly lighting back up. The other side bears a small horn, curved on the inner side as if it wrapped around an actual horn. This mask, with its damage and its one, singular horn, reminds me of a similar one I had before… though that one I had crafted myself as a crude combination of the tech and magic of the world I was on at the time.
Which, perhaps it is the same mask? Just modified for this world in the same fashion my clothes are? The main body of it seems to be petrified wood, though, with the eye holes being made of light magic rather than being holes at all-- the old mask was more heavy on the tech than the magic aspect, with most of it being metal with a digital interface.
I flip the mask over, finding the inside scratched with a few runes in what looks like my own handwriting-- one for durability; for activation; for translation; for better sight; for harmony with technology; and for energy for the mask. Same as before, solidifying the theory that this is (was?), in fact, my old mask. Why it would show up again now of all times, changed so drastically in look, I can't be sure.
I press my fingers over the activation rune and slide it on, allowing the magic to "click" it into place over my face. I blink, squinting as my field of view is filled with Very Important Information. At least it still gives important info related to what I'm currently focused on. ...Unfortunately, this version of the mask isn't any smarter than mine used to be, and its idea of important info is to tell me that there is sand on the ground.
Well.
I guess it isn't wrong, at least?
I sigh and bat away the notifications, turning my attention back to my hip, where my staff sits, waiting. I lift it a bit awkwardly from my belt, flipping it around in my hand until it's in a good position, and examine it. It consists of two portions, really-- the "lamp orb", which is made of milky white glass containing a constantly reforming mass of light, not unlike a lava lamp; and the actual staff bit, which curves around the lamp orb, and is made of dark colored wood with a teal grip. As far as I can tell, it is my exact same staff.
A notification pops up.
"MEGABIRD" my mask informs me, helpfully, pointing to the orb of light inside my staff and a few various other sources of light, like the sky and the water reflections, before changing its mind and telling me that those are actually light.
Okay.
What the fuck is a megabird?
I stare at the notification, puzzled, waiting to see if it changes back-- even jiggling the staff to see if it would catch "megabird" again. It doesn't work, though, much to my disappointment. So, instead, I extend the staff to actual staff length by pressing one of the extension runes on the grip, and then open the storage compartment to see if any of the items in there get labelled weird.
Unfortunately (fortunately??), they do not. All the enhanced space has is some snacks, a container of water, my necklace (how'd that get in there?), and my hairtie. I dig out the hairtie, carelessly warping the opening for a moment while I grab it, and use it to tie most of my hair up and out of the way, before grabbing the necklace and clipping it on as well.
I eye the snacks and water container, contemplating if I'm really that in need of them right now, and close the compartment when I decide I can wait.
Shoving the staff into the ground, I use it to help lift myself onto my feet and keep steady. Once I'm sure I won't eat shit if I let go of the staff, I dust the sand off of me and take a look around, yoinking the staff back out of its sandy half-grave.
There really isn't much but sand and water around, though. Behind me, there's water, before me, there's sand. Oh, and rocks, I suppose, and what appears to be a good sized one blocking any view of what might be ahead.
I sigh.
If I'm on a tiny island again I'm not bothering with swimming this time.
-------
Page 2
< Prev // Next > // Tag for scrolling through!
*note: Trick may now get your asks directly as notifications from their mask. They will reply accordingly, and I will attempt to do mini doodles for any that aren't used for the main story.
It feels like I am aimlessly floating inside myself.
The sound…
…of the waves…
My movement is sluggish, even within my own subconscious. Reaching the waking world feels so close, yet so far.
The feel…
…of the sand…
The more I push towards consciousness, the harder it feels to do so, as if something is resisting-- and yet, after a minute, I surface with such suddenness that it almost surprises me. Blinding light greets me when I attempt to open my eyes, and it takes a few moments of playing peek-a-boo with the waking world before I am able to keep my eyes open.
The sky… is a beautiful shade of cloudless blue. I reach up towards it, and flinch. Memories drift back to me in fragments, of red and gray and the endless, striking blue of the sky, blocked only by my own hand reaching for something… something…
I can't remember what.
I can't remember much else, either. Assuming the worst-- always the worst, rather than get my hopes up-- I push myself upward, until I am seated, making room for sand and water to join the sky in my immediate field of vision, and begin to test that my body is functioning properly. Better to distract myself than to overthink, since overthinking means wondering how long it's been, which means wondering if--
Enough. I lift my hands and begin to pat myself down, checking that everything was in the right place.
Head. It's attached, certainly, which is always a good start. Both sets of eyes are out, which usually isn't a problem, but probably means that either my mimicry is stunted for the moment, or… whatever fauna is here isn't really human enough for it to be a concern.
Arms. Two of them, fully attached and functional. The nail polish Styx had done before the attack was still intact, surprisingly. I don't typically like nail polish but… I leave it. Perhaps as a sort of reassurance and hope that she's okay, perhaps because I'm too lazy to remove it.
Torso. No wounds, at least. I seem to be wearing light, comfortable, cream colored clothes-- a slightly-too-long t-shirt and shorts. Different from my usual clothing, which is typically what I reform with, no matter the state of it. My staff is still on my hip, which is good, as well as a strange sort of mask. My bag, however, is nowhere in sight.
Legs. Humanoid, fully attached and functioning. I don't seem to have any footwear, so it's a good thing the sand covering the area is rather fine and not very hot.
Tail, wings? Missing, it seems. Not great for my balance, but I assume the main population is human enough not to have them, perhaps?
Conclusion? I reformed fine, which is always good, even if my somewhat fragmented memories hint at a particularly violent death this time. The local population-- which I have so far seen none of, unsurprisingly, considering that I seem to be on an isolated beach-- must be human enough that extra limbs are unusual, but not little oddities such as my bonus eyes. My clothes are quite different, so perhaps they mostly dress the same, and I simply reformed differently to compensate? The mask also seems to be important, if it came on its own, rather than as something I had before, like the lantern-staff.
A mostly humanoid species that dressed mostly the same and wore masks. I don't think, in all of my planet-hopping experiences, that I've met a species with this strange sort of uniform.
This is bound to be an interesting trip...
-------
We're live! Feel free to ask questions.
This is the first page!
Next > // Tag for scrolling through!
[ID Start: A three panel comic. The first panel shows a phone in front of a computer keyboard. The phone has a drawing app open, with a little notification window open on top. The notification says "Artist you follow liked your work!"
The second panel shows a simplistic drawing of a person sitting at a computer, staring at their phone in their hand.
The third panel is the same, but the person's eyebrows are furrowed. The background has "huh" written in all caps behind them. /End ID]
[ID Start: A person sits in an office chair at a desk and seems to be staring at a space above the laptop in front of them. There is an arrow pointing to them that reads "Forced 2 create (did it to themselves)". They are crying. /End ID]
[ID Start: A person sits in an office chair at a desk and seems to be staring at a space above the laptop in front of them. There is an arrow pointing to them that reads "Forced 2 create (did it to themselves)". They are crying. /End ID]
[ID start: Two splotches of darkness on a white sheet-- one bearing starts, the other bearing a silhouette of a person. Besides each is text. The text for the stars reads: "For what Loneliness is greater than when surrounded by others?"
The text besides the silhouette reads: "For what Loneliness is greater than when you are truly alone?" /End ID]
"For what Loneliness is greater than that caused by your own hand?"
Eons ago, there was a Great Nothing. Empty, suffocating, ever-hungry Nothing. It was alone in its non-existence, and slowly, the Nothing realized that there was Something—a feeling. The Nothing was Lonely.
And so, it wept.
In its weeping, it Created. Slowly, one by one, the Nothing created stars—twinkling, glittering, warm little stars. The stars comforted the Nothing, humming it to deep, comforting sleep.
Well, the stars shimmered, we have been given a gift of existence.
Should we, perhaps, the stars wondered, give a gift back?
And so, the stars got to work.
---
This was the story of creation, and it was one the child had heard many, many times before. “I don’t see what this has to do with anything.” They huffed, impatient, and the man rested a hand on their head. “It has many things to do with everything.” He started, but before he could continue, the child gave him a quizzical look. “But right now?”
The man smiled, and hoisted his weapon. “Especially right now.”
When the Great Nothing awoke, it was to the sight of many more Somethings than it had made. The stars had given their gift—the gift of life—and remolded it, creating more Somethings to keep the Nothing company.
Upon seeing this, the Nothing once again wept—but found a different Something to be the cause.
Joy.
---
The stars were not the only ones to whom the act of Creating was passed on to, however. Even so, the ability became watered down, with each Creation having less of the ability than that who Created it. Eventually, it was lost to every Creation, save for a select few, blessed by the Nothing itself.
The man was not one of those few. The child was, however. To an extent, anyway—the powers it contained were limited and corrupted, but not by its own hand.
---
In its Joy, the Great Nothing embraced a star—and, in its careless Joy, the Great Nothing snuffed it out. The rest of the stars shrunk away, understanding something new—for this Great Nothing, Creation came easily…
…and Destruction came even easier, even if it did not mean to do so.
---
Not everything was grateful for the gift given to them—some resented the Great Nothing for attempting to end its loneliness. The man was one—the child was not, although it pretended to be, for the sake of survival.
There were not many of the same kind as the man and the child, and the Creations left were dying, slowly.
---
Try as it might, the Great Nothing found that no matter what it did, its Creations still shrunk away from its touch in fear. Soon, the Nothing found that there was a worse kind of Loneliness than being truly Alone. Each attempt to make amends ended poorly, earning the Nothing nothing but Fear in return.
It began to resent the things it had Created.
---
The Great Nothing, itself, is collapsing in despair, the man had said before. We can end its pain.
The child did not believe the Great Nothing would want such a thing, but had no choice in the matter—it learned that long ago.
You must assist me in this, or the Great Nothing will not bless you as it blesses me, the man had said. I cannot move on without you.
The child did not believe it wanted such a thing.
---
And so, the Great Nothing, in its newfound Fury, Created once more—but these Creations were twisted, gifted the ability to Destroy, rather than Create.
Some feel that it is a good thing that the stars put a stop to its Madness, even if it meant that they must do what drove the Great Nothing to Madness to begin with.
---
The man and the child had started out on this journey together.
They did not make it to the end together.
---
And so, the Great Nothing was locked away by the stars, forced to sleep once more, consciousness contained in a small cube, and cast aside.
And so, the Great, sleeping Nothing fell for an eternity.
---
The child kneeled before a wall, darker than the darkness itself, and wept.
“I am sorry.” It said. “I am sorry.”
And so, the child plunged its weapon into the heart of the darkness.
---
When the Great Nothing awoke, it was to yet another new sensation—Pain. Is this, it wondered, what the star felt when it was Destroyed?
There was another Something here—a very small Something. It was weeping apologies, and the Great Nothing felt sorry. It, too, was blessed—it, too, was cursed—it, too, was given too heavy a burden to bear. It, too, had the ability to Destroy. It, too, was deeply Lonely in ways the Nothing understood.
---
It is alright.
The words echoed in the child’s mind, and the cold, forgiving, Great Nothing embraced the child. I, too, am sorry.
And so, the Great Nothing died.
And so, all the Great Nothing’s creations died with it.
Well.
Almost all of them.
---
It was cold. Suffocatingly cold. What had happened? The child remembered finding the cube—so big it was more like a wall. The child remembered doing what the man said it must.
And then?
And then… nothing. The child was floating in darkness.
The child was alone, it realized, and a Loneliness greater than what it had felt with the man began to rise.
