There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
I'm out. (drinks an entire bottle of sleeping tree sap)
What a buzzkill. (starts drinking) I wonder what the room of horrors has in store for us.
"It's starting to look like this one has an infinite source of this weird liquid thingy!" Rampage noted, an innocent smile on his face. The statement seemed sincere.
"Some weird person here gifted me an infinite supply not too long ago. But I should probably stop." He sighed. "It's weird seeing my face everywhere. And everyone else's."
"This one thinks so too. . ." She nodded, fidgeting with her glasses as she spoke, clearly unnerved by the whole thing- Or perhaps annoyed? With Rampage, it was quite hard to tell. "This place clearly warps everything around over and over and over. She has no doubt that the enemies we fight were once people who have been here, but had their visage stolen and warped in this disgusting mess. No doubt, it is to mess with our heads. This psychological torture will only continue, she thinks- It is only a matter of time before these faces start appearing in the walls and the floor. This is the abyss' limbs trying to reach into our heads and scramble everything that is there- But we must not go mad for as long as it is possible."
"You're right. We must keep our heads on us." He shook his head. "Otherwise we're giving him why he wants and more of what the Abyss needs, I'm assuming."
"Hopefully. . . Someone does something about this soon. This one can hold on for a long time, probably, and she is sure that so can the Lord of the Hunt. But ones that are somewhat closer to mortals? She thinks they would be more susceptible to this. As much as it hurts to say, we need to make plans on what to do if one of our grips on reality slips." Rampage's gaze shifted to the floor. "This one wants to make sure that even if the abyss consumes them, it will choke."
"You're right. I am still mortal after all. And that sounds like a start. I think."
@zealformayhem
"If it is of any use- I have been here a rather long time and I'm only human. I would make the argument I am still sane, and I do have a method to the madness deduced. For a place so all devouring, I don't think it actually... Does anything NEW."
The Hunter began to pace a moment, thinking to thrmselves for the most part aloud.
"Theodor brings the creativity, but he also seems to think this is the only thing that works. Pardon my rambling, lads. That is to say- I have HEARD him visiting the Abyss before. He simply sits and talks to it. It's pathetic, like a damn kicked puppy. All the Abyss does is throw different enemies at us over and over- or at least the PERCEPTION of enemies. They're all just extensions of the Abyss are they not? Therefore everything in here not ourselves is Abyss. Down to the food. Does the food make us insane? Or would tha be too easy? Hm. I want to try something. Mr. Reachman, if that is what you are, might I have another flask a moment?"
"That is......quite sad, actually. Name's actually Damhán but sure." He handed the Hunter another flask. What was he planning?
The Hunter took the flask and dug some dirt out of the cave walls, using th alcohol to dampen it like mud. He seemed to be sculpting it into a face.
"I have a theory I haven't had the means to test before. The Abyss recycles everything, does it not? Could it speak through a sculpted mouth like it did that dragon, but more understandably? Perhaps this is how Theodor has his seemingly one sides conversations."
"Huh, interesting." He tilted his head slightly before shrugging.
The Hunter sits back and furrows an eyebrow.
"I'm uh... Not an artist. Maybe it's not good enough?"
"Rampage will help! Collaboration!!" The khajiit eagerly ran over and started poking the mud with his paws, adding more detail. It could perhaps be argued that he only made things worse, but he did make the face more realistic- unfortunately in turn he also made it a bit more ugly.
He stepped back to look at his work, crossing his arms. He was clearly proud!
The Hunter- despite having a mask over most of his face, somehow seemed sorely disappointed when nothing happened.
"Hm. What does everything else here have this doesn't?"
He stared at the lifeless eyes in annoyance.
"Aren't they just goddamn pieces of us? What's the difference? Uhg. Pointless."
He blinked, dumbfounded and frustrated when nothing happened.
"Pointless!" He repeated with a hiss, tail swinging back and forth in annoyance.
Then, he stopped, mouth agape as he thought of something that could be the answer. She looked up at The Hunter, tilting her head as she spoke.
"A soul?"
"Maybe. But we don't just have those on hand now do we? Unless someone has a crucible and fuckin' soulgem on hand."
The Hunter snorted.
"Mmmm. . . This one isn't sure if he has a crucible. . . But he probably has a soul gem on him?"
He took off his bag and rummaged through it, sticking her tongue out as she concentrated. Finally, he gasped, eagerly standing up and running over to The Hunter to place a tiny black soul gem into their hand.
"This one stole it from her papa's supplies! Not sure if it is filled tho, he can't quite tell with those thingys!"
"Ah, I'm not exactly a mage, but I DO usually use enchanted weapons. Seems filled to me. You can usually tell depending on how shiny it is... Unless it's one of those fucking tomatos."
The Hunter narrowed their eyes.
"I HATE those fucking soul tomatos."
They shook their head.
"Now we have a soul. What do we do with it? Stab the dirt or something? Maybe I could use my cleaver to pick the face up unharmed and put the gem under it, then resculpt what we have to."


















