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Pursued Thread 1

Monarch_Laciel

Monarch_Laciel

VS Battles
Retired
21,783
4,826
Meta Thread

Four people sit in the living room of a remote farmhouse, a small fire crackling quietly beneath the mantlepiece. It's night out, and the cold winter winds howl through the trees outside. A winding road, almost invisible in the darkness, leads in a winding path through the woods, towards the flickering lights of the town on the horizon. A low howl echoes through the trees from some distance off.

A failed ritual brought down the wrath of terrible being upon two of them. The third was attempting to investigate them, and was indiscriminately targeted by the wrath of the entity. And the fourth, renting out the rooms of their family holiday home to a group of weary fellows, finds themselves caught up in the struggle through sheer bad luck.

These poor unfortunate souls, Rosefelt, Astefron, Elliot,and Piscantur, stare at each other, wondering how they will survive being...

PURSUED
 
A clock sits on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. It's short hand is just past the 11, it's long hand sits on the 3.

11:15pm.

The entity did not appear this day - perhaps your frantic movement to this isolated town has temporarily thrown it off - but you know it is coming. It wields eldritch powers that will find you even if you fled this very world.
 
She finds nothing. There might be some in the house, but if not she will need to go to the town tomorrow.
 
I glance around at the other three people. They each have a gun. Why do they all have guns? Do they want to shoot me? Do they want to kill me. Are they going to sacrifice me to the Avatar? That won't appease it. It's not even my fault. It's his fault! My gaze stops on Rosefelt.He must want me dead. He must have summoned it to kill me! That's it! I should tell them! But what if they're in on it too? I look back and forth at the others, then my gaze settles towards Elliot. Why was he here? Was he called by Rosefelt? Was he going to hunt me!? Maybe he sabotaged us! What if he's a demon worshipper? He called himself a demon hunter, but he's too weak. The broken arm mist have been a sacrifice! I should tell the others, but what if they're in on it too? I look back and forth between the others, then my gaze settles towards Piscantur.This house was so close to our ritual. Suspicious. It's the perfect place to interfere from. She could have messed with our ritual from here! I don't know how, but why else would she be in this house? And she let us in so easily too. She might trap us at dusk and let the avatar kill us. I should tell the others, but what if they're in on it too? I look back and forth between the others, then my gaze settles on Rosefelt…

I continue shifting my gaze back and forth between the three, glaring at their weapons, murmuring to myself, biting my nails, and hugging my box of safety dynamite tightly.
 
Piscantur stands up and stretch's. "Aaalright, you guys get comfortable, I'm going to go look for some bait." She starts searching the old dark home.
 
Exiting the living room, Piscantur stands in a long dark corridor lined with four doors, and a stairwell leading to the lower floor at the end. Glimpses of silver moonlight streams through a window above the stairwell, shining onto the old red carpet that runs down the hallway.. The light from the fireplace through the door makes her shadow twist and turn against the light blue plastered wall,

Having run through the opposite door that Piscantur is leaving through, Astefron finds himself in a study with a desk in the middle and several near empty bookshelves along the walls. What few books there are, appear to be either cheesy romance or gothic horror fiction.
 
Whispering voices fill Piscantur's mind. She can't tell what they are saying, but they sound angry. Very angry.
 
I begin frantically pulling the books off the shelf, then try to push it in front of the door. After a few seconds of not succeeding at all, I start creating a tiny barricade of books in front of the door instead.
 
Soon there are no books left on the bookshelves.

Just lonely, lifeless, empty wooden shapes. Surrounding Astefron on all sides. Seeming to lean in towards him...
 
The storage closet is next to the stairwell. Piscantur looks inside, but after rumaging around inside, finds that all the fish bait inside jars has long since rotted. A revolting salty stench fills the air as she opens the jar.

Inside her mind, the voices laugh at her failure, mocking her.
 
Piscantur sighs, she goes to the kitchen and toss's the smelly bait into the trash, she trys to ignore the voice's.
 
Piscantur walks into the library, hopefully there is a good book in there. She enters through the second door and see's the book fort. "....Huh."
 
As he sleeps, Rosefelt begins to have a nightmare.

He wanders through the dark city streets. Streetlamps flicker along the way, too dim to see through the rolling fog. Shadows that aren't quite humanoid move behind the windows of buildings, then vanish as he approaches them.

The buildings in this dream city are twisted and asymetrical, bending and curving. It should of course be impossible for such buildings to stand, they should collapse in on themselves, but the laws of dreams are not the laws of reality. Dreams stand in the place between the real and the unreal, and what is impossible in reality can become possible, even probable, within a dream.

Shadowy figures pass by him as he walks, humanoid yet indistinct even when looking as closely as possible.

There is a rumbling in the dream, and the shadows begin to whisper, before fleeing inside the twisted buildings. Soon, it is only Rosefelt, alone on the streets. The air is heavy. A great weight seems to press upon him. His heart pounds within his chest. He wonders. Should he look behind him?
 
Sweet drips down on my (dreamy) face. I soon gulps down the saliva down his throat. A grin forms on my face.

This is nothing.

I turn around.
 
I look out from under the desk to check if the shelves are falling, then I see Piscantur. I draw a ward around me, and make hissing noises towards her.
 
Four of them come from between the buildings, sliding from the dark alleys. Fat pale hairless torsos vaguely reminiscent of a dog, skittering along the ground on dozens of spindly arachnidian legs. Eyes scattered across their flesh, sightlessly searching, searching, searching for prey. No head, mere truncated flesh, a puckered stump leaking vile caustic ichor. The creatures seem to sniff the air, and turn towards Rosefelt, a piercing hissing noise emanating from within them. The hole in the centre of the stump widens, and within Rosefelt sees a maw of rotten fangs, and a thick tentacular tongue that stretches out towards him, licking the air in anticipation of the taste of human flesh.

The hissing noise rises to a pitch, and Rosefelt feels something warm in his ears as they begin to bleed. Then it stops, and the four creatures begin to lope towards him, a seemingly impossible form of movement for those spider-like limbs, accelerating as they come.

In the real world, the sleeping Rosefelt begins to shake his head back and forth, groaning slightly.
 
Blahblah9755 said:
I look out from under the desk to check if the shelves are falling, then I see Piscantur. I draw a ward around me, and make hissing noises towards her.
Click to expand...
The bookshelfs haven't fallen over any further than they seemed to be falling last time Astefron looked... yet.
 
You get a few glimpses of some erotica scenes hidden inside, then rightfully throw it at the bookshelf.

The bookshelf is unresponsive but you think you sense disapproval and anger from it.
 
I check through a few more books to see if anything is hidden in them (and if there's anything occultic in them), then throw the ones that are neither erotic, nor occultic at the bookshelf, and see if it's alright with this instead.

I throw the erotica at Piscantur.
 
There's a few occultic things, but they all present themselves to be works of gothic horror fiction rather than grounded in reality.
 
Waking up on the couch, my body remains still while an eye cracked open, darting around the room to take stock.

Well it looks saf- ..... why is Rosefelt just grinning in his sleep?

Regardless, after deeming the room to be safe, I grab my gun and focus my senses on the rest of the house to hear a lot of thumping as if something was falling on the floor. Readying my gun, I quietly creep out of the living room and towards the sound.

Deep breaths Elliot, let's not shoot another teammate. More broken limbs is bad.
 
I throw all of them at the shelves too.

There's nothing hidden in the books? I let out a quiet, yet surprised mutter.

Then I begin reaching out to the drawers of the desk, and opening them, then searching through, but I'm ready to turtle back under the moment the shelves start falling.
 
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