Eleven Days: Apocrypha

Malkuthe 31-May-19 08:46 PM

Three Questions:

One: on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being not at all, 3 being somewhat, and 5 being extremely, how materialistic would you say the reverend is?

Occultist 31-May-19 08:47 PM

3

Malkuthe 31-May-19 08:47 PM

Two: On a scale of 1 to 5 with 1 being very weak, 3 being moderate, and 5 being very strong, how strong would you say the reverend's sense of curiosity is?

Occultist 31-May-19 08:48 PM

5

Malkuthe 31-May-19 08:49 PM

Last Question: On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being 'would rather not', 3 being 'indifferent', and 5 being 'hell yeah', how eager would you say the reverend is to experience/try new things?

Occultist 31-May-19 08:49 PM

4!

Malkuthe 31-May-19 08:53 PM

Time seems to slow as the pain in your wrists dulls to a whisper, and the image burned into the backs of your retinas fades to grey. You are frozen, seemingly, in a single moment, as you watch the lifeblood trickle from the gashes in your veins. You grow faint, slipping slowly away, and you know that there is nothing that you can do. A heartbeat later, and the world goes black. When you come to, you are in another place entirely. As you pick yourself up off the floor, you can feel it under your fingers. It is smooth, but ever so slightly sticky. The metallic tang of blood is mellowed by the sharp scent of incense in the air. Dull pain lingers through your body, but otherwise you appear to be whole and hale. The only light that streams into this room comes from the gap between two heavy curtains ahead of you. It is an angry, reddish-yellow brilliance that falls in a single beam upon a stone pedestal on which a small golden fruit levitates but two inches above the pitted stone surface. The fruit glints in the light as it slowly bobs up and down, rotating in midair.

Occultist 31-May-19 08:55 PM

Knowing enough christianity to know that tempting fruit is probably not great, I would like to go check out the curtains.

Malkuthe 31-May-19 08:57 PM

Your footsteps echo dully in the chamber as you clamber to your feet and walk toward the curtains. A quiet breeze stirs through the room as the darkness around you deepens. The bottom hem of the curtain sways at the behest of the wind, and the light from beyond pulses almost insistently. You peer toward the gap, but the light is too bright, and the darkness too deep, to see anything beyond. Out of the corner of your eye the fruit, no larger than a plump cherry, gleams ever so enticingly. As you warily watch it, you become aware of voices whispering in the draft winding about the room. The breeze caresses you with a cool, dead touch, as a sudden desire to pick the fruit up from its position manifests in your stomach like a slimy worm twisting in your gut...

Occultist 31-May-19 08:59 PM

I wanna ignore the voices and look around for any exits or escapes because this is literally textbook demons and no thank you sir.

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:01 PM

As you cast your eyes about the room, the darkness hides from you the features of the walls that surround you. Left with no choice but to trust other senses, you run your fingers across the walls, smooth and slightly sticky just like the floor. There appear to be no seams, even in the corners. Wherever you are, there does not appear to be any means to escape.

Occultist 31-May-19 09:02 PM

I would like to try and hear what the voices are saying.

But I would also like to roll to curse like an irish sailor. (edited)

!r yypp

D1-C3 BOT 31-May-19 09:03 PM

(edited)

@Occultist, results:

2

1

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:07 PM

With no other option, you cast your mind back to languages that you had come across in your scholarly work. Enochian seems quite appropriate considering the circumstances, and you find yourself using a few choice words to describe your situation. As you do so, you recognize that the voices are speaking enochian, but your understanding is relatively sparse. The voices appear to be of two minds, telling you to eat the fruit, and to avoid it at the same time. And yet you find that as you listen, so too does the desire grow, spreading with dark tendrils through your mind.

Occultist 31-May-19 09:08 PM

!roll ygppp

D1-C3 BOT 31-May-19 09:08 PM

(edited)

@Occultist, results:

1

Occultist 31-May-19 09:09 PM

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:11 PM

Unable to resist, you reach out toward the fruit. Your fingers close around it and you feel a wave of physical revulsion course through your body. And yet you manage to keep yourself from vomiting. The surface is covered in a slick, oily substance that stains your fingers, making them shimmer with a rainbow iridescence in the angry reddish-yellow light. You can smell the sweet, delectable scent of the fruit as you bring it closer to your body with an almost protective jealousy, but at the same time you become aware of the tarry black malice hidden beneath its flesh, pulsing almost like the beating of a sinister, putrefied heart. Your earlier desire to touch the fruit twists into a curdled, horrid craving to eat it. The sensation is so alien that your base instincts balk at the thought, but with every passing moment you feel more and more eager to try it.

(Make a Discipline or Cool check

)

Occultist 31-May-19 09:13 PM

!roll yggpppkk

D1-C3 BOT 31-May-19 09:13 PM

(edited)

@Occultist, results:

2

5

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:17 PM

You regard the fruit for a moment. Your insides knot in turmoil. Every instinct, your base conscience, demands that you stop. But your desires, twisted and warped beyond the recognition by what you hold in your hand, growing with every moment, whisper an alluring temptation in your ear to eat it. You want to. You feel in your heart that it's a bad idea. But you can no longer resist. The eagerness, the joy, the ecstasy that you can feel in the malice thrumming through the fruit's putrefied heart is reflected in the wide grin that splits your face as you bring it to your lips. You revel in the dark sensation, in the surrender to temptation. You roll the fruit on your tongue, relishing the texture of its supple skin before you bite down. The bittersweet tang of the fruit floods your taste buds and sweet oil, viscous like honey, drips down the back of your throat to settle in the pit of your stomach as a white-hot, glorious agony courses through your entire being. The curtains fly open to reveal a vast, scattered, and broken cityscape adrift in a void of angry reddish-golden light. A dying star pulses weakly in the distance, its sickly radiance washing over the skyscrapers in waves that seem to carry plumes of dust away from the crumbling buildings. A sphere of dancing flame rises from beneath the window, encircled by turning wheels of glittering gold covered inch by inch by eyes that dart around in a crazed frenzy. Piercing, cackling laughter that makes your ears bleed and turns your insides to mush, floods the room, making it tremble. Cracks crisscross on the floor, walls, and ceiling. Dust rains on you from above as the star in the distance beats one last time and the world around you is consumed by a blinding, burning light.

Occultist 31-May-19 09:21 PM

I toss the fruit away and pray "Father, forgive me"

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:24 PM

For what feels like an eternity, you burn in the light of the dying star. But eventually, the agony that wracks your body dulls, and then disappears altogether. The caustic sensation of light against your skin fades as you come to the realization that now, you are elsewhere. A shaft of baleful light descends into the room from the skylight above, the glass battered by the rain drumming incessantly on the roof. In front of you is a familiar scene. A Catholic parish. But the altar is split in half, and the crucifix lies melted on the steps leading up to the dais. You take a step back and almost stumble on a golden thurible, its surface almost turned entirely black by a greasy patina. The creak of wood attracts your attention. Lightning flashes overhead. You become aware of the figures, seated and standing, at the pews to either side of you. They appear human, but they are not. You take a closer look, your heart thumping in your chest. Their alabaster skin glitters like many shards of broken glass, their bodies and faces contorted in visages of agony. Deep tracks like tears are cut into the glittering flesh of their faces. You become aware of the smell of salt in the air.

Occultist 31-May-19 09:26 PM

Is there an exit?

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:26 PM

You look around and the doors leading outside are behind you. In bright red paint that looks suspiciously like blood, the words "GET OUT" are splattered against the wood.

Occultist 31-May-19 09:27 PM

I would like to pick up the thurible and get the fuck out!

Malkuthe 31-May-19 09:28 PM

You push the doors open and slip out. You hear the sound of a bell tolling in the distance. The deep, sonorous bass notes make your body, your bones, your very soul tremble. As you take your first steps out into a grey and lifeless city, into the driving, ice-cold rain that pounds the front of the church, you know where you have to go: the crumbling edifice of the Cathedral that looms over the centre of it all.

(and scene.)