Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 1: Parallels/Perpendicularities]
05-30-2011, 08:04 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by whoosh!.
It was a short while before Nemaeus' thoughts agreed to line up and be processed in an orderly manner. It was difficult to breathe, and move, and think, but he managed all of these eventually. Shaking limbs lifted him out of the snow drift he'd been cast into and, blinking at the whiteness of his surroundings, attempted to figure out where everyone had gone.
Stepping forward with as much dignity as his shocked system could allow, Nemaeus stared into the smudge of grey that marked the horizon. But aside from that, there was only white. Huge, all-encompassing, soul-sucking white.
Resisting the urge to slither down onto the snow again, he clumsily turned. And saw it.
It was not as large as the whiteness he had witnessed moments before, but it had an even greater pull on him. The contrast of the dark pyramid against the pale backdrop stung his exhausted mind, and it was only after staring for a little bit that Nemaeus adjusted to darkness of it.
And while it was not as big as the white landscape, it was still truly enormous. He took tentative steps towards it. And a few more. After each set he stood and breathed and wondered with a fury. For a while he'd ignored the oddness of his situation, but it came slamming back down on him. Questions slithered and writhed at the back of his head, doomed to wither unanswered.
Was he dead? He should be. He'd never believed in any faith, except in the moments where it seemed a god could exist only because no mere coincidence could be so cruel, but this seemed fitting. Seven (give or take) demons to torment him for a life full of mistakes. Seven trials, his own personal underworld.
And yet... he pulled a hand free of his wolf pelt wrapping and touched an ice cold cheek. He was cold and in pain, just as if this body was his old one. It could be merely a representation, but it seemed less elegant that his immortal spirit should be prone to damage while it suffered for its sins. Add to that the disinterest most of those he had encountered had shown and the sheer bizarre nature of what he had seen, and it seemed almost tantalisingly possible that the blood that pumped through his veins was his blood, and his body and flesh and bone was all his own. All real. All as fragile as before.
That was when he started to become afraid. Truly, bone-wrackingly afraid.
It had required him to die a death, but Nemaeus was starting to find the will to live. And just as suddenly as he had found this will there were a great number of things that intended to compromise his chances to be around to enjoy it.
He stopped mere metres away from the incredible mass of the pyramid. Briefly, seized by a strange urge, he glanced up at its top and saw a glinting steel cap at its zenith. Finding he could make little of that, he instead looked down at the snow around him. There were no prints, as trees are not known to leave such things. Instead the snow around this gaping entrance to the building had been raked and whipped about by what the wolfman could only assume to be a dozen roots of an angry tree.
It was not a conclusion he'd ever had to draw before.
He hesitated then. The nature of the demons that this Counsellor had set upon him wasn't clear. When Nemaeus had heard stories of those doomed to ironic fates in some hidden underworld he had always assumed it would be clear cut were such an instance to occur. But these beings weren't unbeatable. That they were in a fight to the death suggested this (although that could just be part of the chosen punishment) and the tree that stank of death hadn't been invincible to his charms like a good demon would be. Heck, the metal lobster thing had come to his rescue. That didn't fit, not in the slightest.
So.
What now?
Nemaeus looked up at the steel of the vast structure before him. And then he decided. With a new-found sense of decisiveness he strode out, away from the entrance before him. Instead he traced a path around the base of the pyramid, heading away to look at whatever lay undiscovered. It felt refreshing to plunge steps into crisp, undisturbed snow, and for a moment he allowed himself the illusion that what he was doing was in any way impressive.
A short while later he found a second entrance, on the perpendicular side of the pyramid. That is, assuming it was a four sided pyramid. And that the use of that word made any sense at all in this context. He shook his head and stepped forward to arch his neck inside the pyramid. Some irrational sense of fear prevented him stepping away from the snow and into the ominous gloom of the building. Even so, simply peering was not achieving much.
With a sense that he was losing something, however unimportant, Nemaeus entered the depths of the pyramid and didn't look back.
However, it wasn't long before he encountered something new. The something in question being a lever. He spent some time pondering the possible symbolism before he became bored of that line of enquiry and simply pulled it down.
Nemaeus was swiftly rewarded with a distant rumbling. And then, more worryingly, some very close rumbling indeed. He spun around and there, before his eyes, ancient stone slipped and pulled apart as if it was a well oiled machine.
What that left Nemaeus with was yet another gaping entrance, and another important decision.
He was happy to take the interesting option.
It was a short while before Nemaeus' thoughts agreed to line up and be processed in an orderly manner. It was difficult to breathe, and move, and think, but he managed all of these eventually. Shaking limbs lifted him out of the snow drift he'd been cast into and, blinking at the whiteness of his surroundings, attempted to figure out where everyone had gone.
Stepping forward with as much dignity as his shocked system could allow, Nemaeus stared into the smudge of grey that marked the horizon. But aside from that, there was only white. Huge, all-encompassing, soul-sucking white.
Resisting the urge to slither down onto the snow again, he clumsily turned. And saw it.
It was not as large as the whiteness he had witnessed moments before, but it had an even greater pull on him. The contrast of the dark pyramid against the pale backdrop stung his exhausted mind, and it was only after staring for a little bit that Nemaeus adjusted to darkness of it.
And while it was not as big as the white landscape, it was still truly enormous. He took tentative steps towards it. And a few more. After each set he stood and breathed and wondered with a fury. For a while he'd ignored the oddness of his situation, but it came slamming back down on him. Questions slithered and writhed at the back of his head, doomed to wither unanswered.
Was he dead? He should be. He'd never believed in any faith, except in the moments where it seemed a god could exist only because no mere coincidence could be so cruel, but this seemed fitting. Seven (give or take) demons to torment him for a life full of mistakes. Seven trials, his own personal underworld.
And yet... he pulled a hand free of his wolf pelt wrapping and touched an ice cold cheek. He was cold and in pain, just as if this body was his old one. It could be merely a representation, but it seemed less elegant that his immortal spirit should be prone to damage while it suffered for its sins. Add to that the disinterest most of those he had encountered had shown and the sheer bizarre nature of what he had seen, and it seemed almost tantalisingly possible that the blood that pumped through his veins was his blood, and his body and flesh and bone was all his own. All real. All as fragile as before.
That was when he started to become afraid. Truly, bone-wrackingly afraid.
It had required him to die a death, but Nemaeus was starting to find the will to live. And just as suddenly as he had found this will there were a great number of things that intended to compromise his chances to be around to enjoy it.
He stopped mere metres away from the incredible mass of the pyramid. Briefly, seized by a strange urge, he glanced up at its top and saw a glinting steel cap at its zenith. Finding he could make little of that, he instead looked down at the snow around him. There were no prints, as trees are not known to leave such things. Instead the snow around this gaping entrance to the building had been raked and whipped about by what the wolfman could only assume to be a dozen roots of an angry tree.
It was not a conclusion he'd ever had to draw before.
He hesitated then. The nature of the demons that this Counsellor had set upon him wasn't clear. When Nemaeus had heard stories of those doomed to ironic fates in some hidden underworld he had always assumed it would be clear cut were such an instance to occur. But these beings weren't unbeatable. That they were in a fight to the death suggested this (although that could just be part of the chosen punishment) and the tree that stank of death hadn't been invincible to his charms like a good demon would be. Heck, the metal lobster thing had come to his rescue. That didn't fit, not in the slightest.
So.
What now?
Nemaeus looked up at the steel of the vast structure before him. And then he decided. With a new-found sense of decisiveness he strode out, away from the entrance before him. Instead he traced a path around the base of the pyramid, heading away to look at whatever lay undiscovered. It felt refreshing to plunge steps into crisp, undisturbed snow, and for a moment he allowed himself the illusion that what he was doing was in any way impressive.
A short while later he found a second entrance, on the perpendicular side of the pyramid. That is, assuming it was a four sided pyramid. And that the use of that word made any sense at all in this context. He shook his head and stepped forward to arch his neck inside the pyramid. Some irrational sense of fear prevented him stepping away from the snow and into the ominous gloom of the building. Even so, simply peering was not achieving much.
With a sense that he was losing something, however unimportant, Nemaeus entered the depths of the pyramid and didn't look back.
However, it wasn't long before he encountered something new. The something in question being a lever. He spent some time pondering the possible symbolism before he became bored of that line of enquiry and simply pulled it down.
Nemaeus was swiftly rewarded with a distant rumbling. And then, more worryingly, some very close rumbling indeed. He spun around and there, before his eyes, ancient stone slipped and pulled apart as if it was a well oiled machine.
What that left Nemaeus with was yet another gaping entrance, and another important decision.
He was happy to take the interesting option.