Quests & Challenges

Might have to miss out on this round, unfortunately- got a bad case of writer's burnout. I'll write entries for every fear missed at the end of this event!

[center][img]https://musesings.files.wordpress.com/2021/06/the-distortion-badge.png[/img] User ID#: 331900 Daily Theme: The Spiral Applicable CW & Additional Notes: Confusion, getting lost, hallucinations, gaslighting, emotional and mental breakdowns, general creepy behaviour, basically all that Spirally "goodness". Despite spending his formative years in the realms that embodied the polar opposite of his home, [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/50413016]Sirius[/url] had spent enough years in the Tangled Wood to long since grow accustomed to the...eccentricities of the forest and its myriad of inhabitants. However, those first few years had been difficult, and on more than one occasion he had wandered just a little too far into the woods, only to find himself lost and have to be sheepishly guided back by one of his clanmates. He couldn't help it, his mind just...wandered sometimes. Most of those incidents had been harmless, a combination of his own inattentiveness and what he now recognises as the tricks of the Veilspun, but there had been one particularly event that stuck with him and, for the longest time, made him terrified of going beyond the clan's borders unaccompanied, even years later. It should've been a completely normal trip, just heading for the market to pick up some things for his family, see if there was any wanderers looking for a new clan to join, maybe stop by that one bakery that stocked those little cakes he liked...Just normal, everyday stuff. It wasn't even dark when he started back on the path to home, groceries tucked under a wing and a happy melody on his lips. He knew he shouldn't daydream, but... The first hint that something was wrong, or at least the first one he consciously acknowledged, was when he passed by the sign pointing his way out of the woods and to the market for a second time. Even then, it didn't register as something to be concerned about, just that he'd been daydreaming and got turned around somewhere. Passing by it a third time, however, registered a little higher on his scale of concern. As did the fourth, by the fifth time he had seemingly gone in a circle, he was starting to feel irritation and perhaps a little bit of panic. Surely even HE wasn't that much of a daydreamer, he grumbled as he made attempt number six...only to feel a scream of frustration building in his throat when the path looped around again and the sign came back into view. The scream died before it could even truly begin when his eyes fell on the dragon stood just beside the sign. [b]"Hello there!"[/b] the dragon, a Spiral (Or at least he...she...they? They looked like a spiral...) had chirped as he approached them, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to the darkened forest around them. Siruis had felt relieved to see someone else finally, but also concern that they had been caught in what was surely a Veil's trap. When he had voiced those concerns, they had tilted their head (Something wasn't right about the movement, but he couldn't figure out what) and smiled: [b]"Path to the market? Oh no, this is the road to the Crescent. The sign right there says so,"[/b] Sirius had been confused, sure that the sign had said "Market", but when he turned to read it, it did indeed say "Crescent", pointing down a path he was sure had not been there before. The Spiral(?) had laughed and informed him that he needed to head back the way he came, earning a groan and a thanks from the Wildclaw as he turned and trudged back, responding to the cheery farewell behind him with a swish of his tail. The sun was still beating down as he walked, thankful to be on the right track finally... He stopped dead when he turned a corner and found himself back at the crossroads, staring down the path he had just gone. The Spiral was still there, head tilted, face something that vaguely resembled curiosity (Was it?). When he had expressed his now panicked confusion, they had laughed; [b]"Met you? We've never met before! Surely you know that!"[/b] He had ignored them in favour of looking over the sign, expecting it to still read as it did before. But now...now it was just a mass of indecipherable scribbles, a mess that made his head hurt when he stared at it for too long, and when he looked up, the Spiral was just there, watching. When he had asked for directions, their smile widened; [b]"Oh, the Altar? Just down that path beside me, like I told you before! Surely you didn't forget? Oh, you must have, since you came back. Well, try to get it right this time,"[/b] Sirius had just nodded numbly and wandered down the path he knew(?) was not there before, not even bothering to acknowledge the cheery farewell behind him. This path was...different, at least, and that made him perk up a little and put a bit more of an urgent bounce in his step. Although, the way the trees seemed to reach up higher than before, the way the vines seemed to creep and crawl into dizzying patterns on their trunks and the path underfoot, was something he tried to avoid looking at for too long, he ignored them in favour of getting home as soon as possible and put this madness behind him as soon as - This time he really did scream when the sign once again came into view, the crossroads now not one or two branching paths but many, many, SO MANY. What was going on? Had he really gotten so lost? Was he going insane? His panicked thoughts twisted in on themselves and he sat down heavily, grasping at his aching head. Surely this wasn't real, surely he was dreaming, surely. [b]"Oh my, what's wrong?"[/b] he'd flinched at the voice, stiffening at the feeling of something....a hand being placed on his shoulder. Slowly, he reluctantly looked up into the Spiral's....spiral eyes, their expression one of genuine concern, and he'd broken down, tears pouring as he begged for answers, begged to know what was going on, begged for something, anything to assuage his fears of a mind lost. The Spiral had said nothing, just gently brushed the tears away before helping him to his feet with a smile, [b]"It's alright, Sirius. You just need to go that way,"[/b] they pointed at the only path, aside from the one he'd come from, [b]"You'll be fine as long as you stay on the path, you know that,"[/b] Sirius had stumbled away then, barely registering the farewell behind him in his haste to escape from whatever net he'd been caught in. The path was familiar, comforting in it's sense of being known, and when the forest finally gave way to the flowered grove that was on the edge of his clan, he'd wept with joy. He didn't remember much after that, only coming to some time later to be told by his mothers that the clan had found him passed out on the edge of the grove, and that they'd been about to form a search party as he'd been gone for several days. He tried not to think about it, just pushed the whole experience to the back of his mind, but every now and then the memories would resurface, usually in nightmares, and on those nights, he would wander the edge of the woods, just to be sure. The nights had been lonely, but lately, one of the clan's newest members has taken to wandering with him. They make for nice company, but Sirius can't help feeling like the Spiral is familiar... [/center]

@hartbleat no worries, take a break if you need to. Daily writing is tougher than a lot of people realize.

You're also free to put minimal effort into your entries for just the badge. I was considering letting people badge by picking dragons from their lairs and telling me how they might be marked by one fear in particular. There's actually nothing in the rules preventing that as an entry anyway since the entry doesn't have to be an actual story.

Just a suggestion if that sounds easier when you're back to it.

Take care of yourself! The badges will be waiting for months to come (at least 3 months from the last thread update to avoid thread rez problems).

User ID#: 252830
*Entry type: Bonus round 2
Applicable CW & Additional Notes: Everything is pretty much what you'd expect for the theme. Special focus on hallucinations and doubting your own mind.

---

You happen upon a frazzled looking fae writing notes, fastenind them on every available surface around her in a frantic flurry of movements. The notes are half crumpled and stained with ink, and written in a jagged, hurried hand.

You tilt your head to read some of them. The fae doesn't seem to notice you.

"Look for the door," it says on one. "It's here if you need to escape. Right here!" An arrow is drawn underneath the text, pointing to the right. There is no door there.

"Don't go underground", it says on another note. "Remember, remember what happened? It'll take you, off and off and never again. No no no, never again!" There's a drawing of a set of stairs leading down into darkness on the note. The lines have been colored so harshly that they've almost pierced the paper.

One note simply says, "It's here it's here I know it's here! It's not it's not", before a large chunk of the whole paper has been viciously covered with countless angry lines.

You look up again and flinch at the fae's unblinking stare. How long has she been looking at you?

"You won't find it," she says, with a horrible sort of desperation. "It's not here. I've looked."

You try to tell her you don't know what she's talking about, but she interrupts you by surging closer, her eyes wide with a sudden feverish haze. "But it's not supposed to be here, either, you see! I know it's not, I know it's not! But I saw it. Even though it's impossible, I saw it; it was here, it invited me."

She hunches back, wrings her paws together. "I didn't want to go. I didn't! It, it wanted me to! But I won't! As long as I have... yes, yes, the door..." She turns back around, picking up her pen and another piece of paper, and continues mumbling to herself.

You feel a sudden lurch in your stomach, and realize that the wall behind the fae seems to be curving down and in, stretching unevenly into a center point that reaches out towards the both of you. You hurriedly turn your head and begin to walk away. The library workers can handle themselves today, surely...

User ID#: 98625
Entry type: Bonus Round 2
Applicable CW & Additional Notes:
CWs: Mentions of illusions and loss of self
Notes: Felt like describing the book rather than try and write a story around it. It's also a bit easier considering I'm hilariously scatterbrained today.

An innocuous book of optical illusions is almost too fitting for this Spiral-aligned Leitner. The mesmerizing colors and patterns draw in readers as they follow lines to the title. The title itself is similar to the cover, colors and patterns shifting with the angle of the books. Delightfully deceitful to the unsuspecting eye of the average viewer, even the first pages are remarkably ordinary.

Once drawn in, readers are pulled in to attempting to understand the illusions laid out before them. What starts as misunderstanding shadows and simple impossible shapes give way to masses of moving colors and lines. They twist and contort the reader’s perception of what is real and what is illusion, imprinting on their minds in the process. Those not entirely lost become paranoid of their surroundings, in constant disbelief of the world around them. Every turn is another illusion, every spoken word a lie

It’s not known how the book finds its way back onto shelves after each victim. Most reasonable is they attempt to return it, their distorted view of the world leading it to a new location with every exchange. That only accounts for those who don’t entirely lose their senses to the content within. Perhaps some details in regards to this book are best left unknown.

[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/qnc/3020423#post_3020423][img]https://musesings.files.wordpress.com/2021/06/the-distortion-badge.png[/img][/url][/center] [b]*User ID#:[/b] 272749 [b]Daily Theme:[/b] The Spiral [b]Applicable CW & Additional Notes:[/b] CWs: General Spiral themes, including confusion, mild panic, and disorientation ----- Nephele hadn’t noticed the door either. She knew of its presence, knew that the librarian had vanished through it, but it’s opening hadn’t caught her attention. Not yet, anyway. But when the patterns caught her eye, the Skydancer went rigid. The hallway seemed… unnatural. In fact, it should have been impossible for such a thing to exist. When she blinked, it shifted, melding and churning before her eyes. She could feel her eyes crossing as she tried to focus on whatever was forming within that hallway. But her mind couldn’t process it. Nephele was a logical dragon by nature. She was drawn to artifacts, tangible objects that she could study and learn from. Curses, myths, legends, even Gods… It baffled her mind. But, for some reason, she felt herself drawn to this hallway. She stepped slowly closer, only a few steps, to get a better look. Every direction her eyes went, the pattern shifted, and spirals swirled at the edges of her vision, causing her eyes to dart back. Nothing stayed the same, no matter how many times she looked in the same place. The shapes shifted into forms that she never quite imagined possible. A throb had settled into Nephele’s skull, and she pressed her palm against her head in response. The shapes, the colors, the swirls… It made her eyes ache. But she felt like she couldn’t shut them, or she may miss something. She saw them now. The patterns that the librarian had tried to form, the spirals, the confusion… When she stared at this hallway, in which the Guardian was walking through, reflected in, fractionated by, she couldn’t understand. She wanted to, yearned to make sense of it, but she couldn’t. The longer she stared, the more muddled her brain became. As though the confusion was beginning to seep into every aspect of her life. Her family, her friendships, her work within the clan. None of it was logical. It was all wrong, incorrect, flawed, confusing. Nephele felt like she couldn’t move, could barely even breathe. As though functioning didn’t even make sense to her anymore. And then the door slammed shut. Nephele drew in a sharp breath, almost gasping. She blinked desperately in an attempt to focus her eyes once more. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what happened, and why her hands had begun to tremble, why a pit had formed in her stomach, and why her heart was racing. She swallowed hard. As the archivist helped the guardian remain standing, she approached the door. It was shut tight now. And she wouldn’t dare open it. But her claws gently brushed over the wood. To think this door hid such a thing... The words of the Guardian made her shudder, and she jolted her hand away from the door. Something had changed in him. A haunting fear was reflected in the other dragon’s form. His face was almost hollow. She had tried to help him over the past few days, but it had been in vain. Nephele closed her eyes, her brow wrinkled. Logically, none of this should have happened. Not what they had experienced, not what her clanmates suffered, none of it. But that was the point, wasn’t it? This wasn’t meant to be logical. Magic and curses and whatever else... Nephele’s head snapped up abruptly. “Do not thank them.” What was she saying? Why? “These are terrible curses, corrupting souls and minds. We must put an end to this.” She wasn’t sure where those words had come from, but she knew she was right. Something needed to be done, before more dragons were hurt. Drawing herself up to full height, she spun around, heading out of the room with such abrupt determination that she startled the archivist. “I need to find the book.”

User ID#: 272749
*Entry type: Bonus Round 2
Applicable CW & Additional Notes: General Spiral themes

---

Fears are not logical.

Certainly, logical thinking can explain certain fears. Perhaps suffering a loss can cause fear of such, or perhaps experiencing a terrible storm in your youth causes you to fear them. But the roots of our fears, the very core of them, are often not logical. How can one fear events that are likely to never happen to them? How does one fear creatures that would never mean them any harm?

Nephele has always been a logical dragon. She is a scholar by nature, and despite being taught by a dragon who is a living survivor of an illogical curse, she never understood it. There must have been another explanation, though she would never voice such an opinion to Amaia. The fire and all the death could be explained. If only she could study the scene herself. And that was why she was drawn to relics. Objects from the past, or from strange locations, that could actually be explained. They were things she could study, investigate, and draw logical conclusions from, rather than written words that could be so easily swayed or influenced.

And yet the fears that drew her in, the ones rooted in her core, are purely illogical. Nephele, who is surrounded by dragons that love her, an adoring partner, close friends, and kind clanmates, fears loneliness. Nephele, who is logical, brilliant, and devoted to her trinkets, relics, and the research behind them, fears madness.

And perhaps that is why this book latched on to her, in particular. The spiraling patterns are always shifting, never in the same place or same nature each time one looks at it. It can make your eyes cross, your mind twist, and your thoughts to turn on you. Truly, this book is formed under the basis of illogical fear. Just staring at its pages can cause a dragon to spiral themselves. Driven to near insanity, they will often try to find some logic in the patterns they see, despite them being impossible to replicate.

Nephele is skeptical of such. But several of her clanmates had encountered such illogical, impossible things over the past few days. So perhaps there is some kind of reason or explanation? She is determined to get her own claws on this book, and prove it to herself, and to the other dragons, that she can explain what is going on and why all these things were happening within the walls of the library.

so tired but screw it I've gotten eight days so far I'm not missing one now

User ID#: 266129 *Entry type: bonus round 2 - the Spiral Applicable CW & Additional Notes: [s]crackpot[/s] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/44978816][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/449789/44978816_350.png[/img][/url] Devotee of the only power in existence One snapper stands undaunted and stares Into twisting fractal assault on reality Wind draws into the bellows of his lungs Thunder rolls out of his throat, "This world. [i]is not. your world![/i] "THIS WORLD. IS GOVERNED. [i]BY ARENJI![/i]" [/center]

[quote] [b]ID:[/b] 148765 [b]Prompt:[/b] Bonus Round 2 (The Spiral) [b]Notes:[/b] yes this is a [color=0000FF]House[/color] of Leaves reference [b]CW:[/b] implied violence, implied death, general horror vibes, spooky noises, [color=DC143C][s]monsters[/s][/color] [/quote] [center][item=forgotten poet's tools][/center] You’ve taken to working late. Night is the only time the deluge of statements ceases, and therefore the only time you have to even ponder what you’ve heard. What you’ve [i]seen[/i]. The burns on your snout are still fresh, the stinging pain a constant reminder of the Lightners that lurk down in the basement. Maybe it's simply a product of your overworked brain, but the longer you reflect the more certain you grow that the flames you saw had no earthly cause. As powerful and terrible as the Flameforger’s magic can be, it has always been a force for creation. But the flames that nearly killed you had nothing in them but destruction. They did not fertilize the soil, or bring forth new growth. They didn’t even cleanse. You think you understand now why Zwicky and Maevy insisted the waters and plagues of their statements were not the works of their gods. But there is still no evidence for such a claim. Had it not been for the other Lightner, the one that devoured the breath from your lungs, you would dismiss it all as folly. But it happened. So you keep looking. It’s terribly late in the night when you hear the sound. A broken voice, choked as if with tears, muttering softly to itself. The noise is slightly muffled through the stone of the wall, but you’re certain the speaker is just in the next room as you hear their whispered words. “I’m sorry,” they say. “I’m sorry. I just want to go home. Please.” You suddenly recognize the speaker. It’s the head librarian, the guardian who has recently begun muttering at the walls. “Please,” he says again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“ His voice is cut off by a low, rumbling growl. It’s distant, but the librarian clearly hears it as well, and his words become strained with fear “No! Please! Let me out!” he says, raising his voice to a yell. “Anyone—help, please!” The growl sounds again, far more closely. This time you react, racing out of the room and turning the corner in order to aid him. And then you skid to a halt. The archives take up the entire wing—there is nothing but solid stone on the other side of the wall. You’ve always known this, and yet you could have sworn the sounds originated from some space behind them. “Hello?” you call out “Where are you?” “Please!” The voice is suddenly distant, coming somewhere from the rooms above. “Can anyone hear me? I’m sorry!” “I’m here!” you try again, but suddenly the growling sound erupts around you, so close you could swear it comes from right besides you. You leap into the air with a start, but as suddenly as the monstrous rumbling has begun it fades into the distance. For a moment all is silent. And then the terrible, tortured screams of the librarian ring out from the archives behind you. Just as before, your instincts betray you. Instead of fleeing you leap back into the room, ready to face whatever awaits you, as you had when you chased the terrible flames. But the archives remain as empty as they were when you left. You can do nothing as the librarian's agonized roars fill your ears, sometimes distant, sometimes so close you can hear the sound of claw against the stone as he struggles against whatever enemy he faces. But the sounds go silent all too quickly. You hope desperately they have simply migrated beyond your hearing, but after a long moment you hear a choked, rattling breath and the distinctive slump of a body falling against stone. As if to confirm your worst fears, the growl sounds again, one last time. It takes a minute for you to recover your senses enough to move. You stand, trembling, and head for the door, desperately hoping to find anyone who can help. But as you do so something catches your eye. Your desk has long been cluttered with papers and files, but you could have sworn there were only five boxes stacked besides it. Now there are six. Something in you compels you to turn back, to see what the box contains. You cautiously pick your way towards the desk—and as you do so you see that the floor beneath you has been freshly gouged by a set of terrible claws. The lines are too close together to fit the profile of a guardian’s foot, and yet whatever has scored its mark here has managed to do so deep into solid marble. You swallow and continue to the box. It looks like all the others, on the outside. There is no label upon it besides a hastily scrawled ?L” in what you somehow recognize as the librarian’s handwriting. Tentatively, you remove the lid and peer inside. Rulers, bits of string, tape measures—and underneath a pile of loose papers. You remove the measuring implements with confusion before you inspect the top paper of the stack. Illustrated upon it is a floor plan of the building, which details the precise size and location of each and every room. It seems perfectly ordinary, save for the fact that the librarian has scrawled several numbers upon it. After a moment you realize they are measurements. After a longer moment you realize they disagree with the map. And finally, after staring at the numbers for what feels like forever, you realize they are utterly impossible. If the librarian’s measurements are to be trusted, the inside of the building is an entire quarter inch larger than the outside. Your dread deepens. But surely it’s a simple mistake, a rounding error, a missed digit. You put the map down and reach for the next paper. It’s a note from the librarian. In it he describes the contents of the pages below—a literary essay, written about a play that does not seem to exist. The librarian speculates that together the pages may comprise an as of yet unregistered Lightner. Your curiosity deepens, and you move to read next page. It’s another note from the librarian, this time scrawled in messy red ink. A warning. [i]This is not for you.[/i]