T̷h̷e̸ ̵G̶a̴m̸e̵ - A VR Role-play

[TamingMaster]

Lyra leaned against the wall tracing her fingers in circles on her hands, she wanted out. She wanted out of this stupid place, she wanted to go home. It was hard enough to be in an odd new place but when the one other person who she thought might understand ignored her and behaved as though they’d rather be alone than have her anywhere near them it just made it fifty times worse.
She craned her neck to try and see if the other person, and if they were banging their head against the wall yet. She sighed with disappointment when they were just standing there crying, she’d much rather see them bashing their head against stone than being all weepy and emotional.

Fabian tried to take a step forward, to head back to the cave and talk to Lyra, before things got even more complicated.

Unfortunately, their body had other ideas.

They had already lost an insane amount of water from their shield, during the lightning attack. But, apparently, tears were the final straw for their body.

Spoiler: TW: Seizure

A wave of dizziness hit them, causing them to stumble forward, followed by a complete loss of consciousness.

Their body tensed up, knocking them down, onto the cold pebbled floor. This was shortly continued by limb spasms, which lasted only a few, painful seconds.

Tinnitus rang through their ears, and a thick, slime-like blood ran from their nose, as the muscles in their body finally relaxed.

They laid on the floor, unconscious, their body desperately trying to heal itself in some way, whilst their mind wandered across their memories.

 

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

Fabian tried to take a step forward, to head back to the cave and talk to Lyra, before things got even more complicated.

Unfortunately, their body had other ideas.

They had already lost an insane amount of water from their shield, during the lightning attack. But, apparently, tears were the final straw for their body.

Spoiler: TW: Seizure

A wave of dizziness hit them, causing them to stumble forward, followed by a complete loss of consciousness.

Their body tensed up, knocking them down, onto the cold pebbled floor. This was shortly continued by limb spasms, which lasted only a few, painful seconds.

Tinnitus rang through their ears, and a thick, slime-like blood ran from their nose, as the muscles in their body finally relaxed.

They laid on the floor, unconscious, their body desperately trying to heal itself in some way, whilst their mind wandered across their memories.

“Oh sh-“ she broke off remembering that cursing wouldn’t help at this point in time, she jogged over to them and kneeled beside them, their body was spasming and she couldn’t do anything about it. She released the breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding as their body stopped moving, “hello? Human, please wake up” she begged poking them rather roughly in the arm “look I don’t know how to address you, you never mentioned your name so it’s just going to have to be human for the time being.” She informed them.
Lyra didn’t know what to do so she just sat on the ground next to them, “please don’t die, as much of a pain in the butt as you were at least you where another person” she muttered to herself

 

[TamingMaster]

Importing character file "Iris_NPC"...

Import complete.

Updating location file name "Aromatica_Tea_Shop-SZ"...

Update complete.

Reloading...

Reload complete.

The humble little tea shop fizzled away into tiny particles, removing itself from the system, leaving an empty space in city streets.

In its place, a new, slightly larger building started to form. The foundations planted themselves softly, followed by each individual brick, windows that slotted in without a sound, a roof that built up like an apartment block.

Once the shell had laid itself out, the decorations seemed to flood in; paint spread across different surfaces, signs tucked into place.

Inside, a hexagon counter reminiscent of the previous one glided into position, followed by shelves, tables, plants that grew out into their favoured spots, and lights that illuminated the dimmed interior.

Then, with careful jingles, the small tea shop restocked itself with teas, tea sets, strange ingredients in jars, little cakes and pastries that hadn't been there before, and their signature bird cage settled on the counter.

Lastly, the final detail was a gentle hum of music throughout the shop, giving it a warm, welcoming environment once again.

There was a short silence, before Zahara blinked her attention back into focus.

She took a short breath, scooping up her teacup and heading into the back room, where a cosy kitchen had formed.
The scent of tea mixed in with the warm smell of the recently baked cakes, as she walked through the doorway.

In the corner Iris, her wife, was carefully icing a batch of cupcakes with a piping bag full of pink icing.

Zahara leaned on the counter beside her, watching Iris' unbreakable focus with a delicate smile as she piped the designs.

She reach forward, tucking Iris' lavender hijab back under her apron, to stop it from accidentally spoiling her intricate designs.

Iris glanced at Zahara with a smile and an "I love you" eye roll, before turning back to finish her icing.

 

[HeavensHens88]

Cassie stared at it’s shoulder, that looked painful and suddenly she felt an overwhelming regret for her words. She had been angry, upset and frightened and she had just lashed out at the closest thing. Unfortunately that had been Sphagnum. It talked and she didn’t say anything, not a word.

Sphagnum straightened up and collided with the ceiling, “are you okay?” The first words she had spoken to him which hadn’t been angry, or curious, the first words which actually showed any sort of caring about it.

She lifted her eyes slowly from the floor of the cave, “immortal? How old exactly are you?” She asked tilting her head ever so slightly to show slight curiosity. It asked her what she needed to survive, and she was inclined to become defensive because she thought she appeared weak and useless but she fought her immediate reaction and replied to the question without snapping or sounding snappy.

“Shelter, we already have that. Water, definitely. Food, yeah. Warmth, could be another thing should it start snowing heavily.” She informed it, “how about you? I know you’re like immortal and stuff but what happens to kill you off?”

"In regards to how long I've been a member of society, a little over twenty five years. How long I've existed? Centuries, likely. My sedentary years tended to run together too well to make much distinction."

Sphagnum let himself reminisce back to his origins for a moment. Cornwall's wilds had been good to him. They'd nourished him, provided a biotic community of absolute unity, and kept him from prying human eyes.

Except peaceful avoidance wasn't exactly Sphagnum's agenda.

Spriggans didn't detach from the place they'd been wrought -wrought by what, Sphagnum had no idea; that was a whole other matter- as a rule. They were one with their environment and existed just as long as it continued to be.

But, consequently, they didn't have free reign whatsoever. Their being was so deeply interwoven with their surroundings that carving out an individualized identity was a real challenge.

Sphagnum was certainly an individualist.

Sphagnum had chosen to extract himself from his ancestral home in the name of living a fulfilling life. But even though he'd faired well with providing for himself insofar, he presumed that his freedom came at the cost of his so-called immortality; he expected to cease after he'd expended a natural lifespan out here.

Truthfully, he wasn't even certain of that. Perhaps he'd expire much sooner due to insufficient nutrition. There was only so much he could get out of civilized soil.

Further, what even was death for an ancient, spirit-animated statue? Would it be a complete dissolution of his entirety? Would his body harden back into complete stone as his consciousness erased? Was there a reincarnation factor? Was there an afterlife for mythical cryptids?

"It's a fantastical unknown," he murmured aloud at the same time she gave him her requirements.
Sphagnum took her concessions each with a weighted nod.
"Warmth we can accomplish with flint and sticks," he asserted, suppressing the apprehensive wince. He, too, needed heat to keep his vegetative parts from perishing to frost, but still the idea of igniting a blaze in close quarters instinctually unnerved him.

"Beyond being obliterated by a crushing force, anything that harms vegetation can compromise me. Fire, blight, drought. I need my leaves for photosynthesis, or else I'd essentially starve."

After blithely tallying his weaknesses, Sphagnum reached up to comb through his leaves and came upon the pack nestled in his antlers. "I'd forgotten about this."

He loosened the drawstring and pulled out its contents. "Food Bar," he read and turned the cellophane packet over once in his hands before extending it toward Cassie. "Seems it's also in someone else's interest to provide for us."

 

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

"In regards to how long I've been a member of society, a little over twenty five years. How long I've existed? Centuries, likely. My sedentary years tended to run together too well to make much distinction."

Sphagnum let himself reminisce back to his origins for a moment. Cornwall's wilds had been good to him. They'd nourished him, provided a biotic community of absolute unity, and kept him from prying human eyes.

Except peaceful avoidance wasn't exactly Sphagnum's agenda.

Spriggans didn't detach from the place they'd been wrought -wrought by what, Sphagnum had no idea; that was a whole other matter- as a rule. They were one with their environment and existed just as long as it continued to be.

But, consequently, they didn't have free reign whatsoever. Their being was so deeply interwoven with their surroundings that carving out an individualized identity was a real challenge.

Sphagnum was certainly an individualist.

Sphagnum had chosen to extract himself from his ancestral home in the name of living a fulfilling life. But even though he'd faired well with providing for himself insofar, he presumed that his freedom came at the cost of his so-called immortality; he expected to cease after he'd expended a natural lifespan out here.

Truthfully, he wasn't even certain of that. Perhaps he'd expire much sooner due to insufficient nutrition. There was only so much he could get out of civilized soil.

Further, what even was death for an ancient, spirit-animated statue? Would it be a complete dissolution of his entirety? Would his body harden back into complete stone as his consciousness erased? Was there a reincarnation factor? Was there an afterlife for mythical cryptids?

"It's a fantastical unknown," he murmured aloud at the same time she gave him her requirements.
Sphagnum took her concessions each with a weighted nod.
"Warmth we can accomplish with flint and sticks," he asserted, suppressing the apprehensive wince. He, too, needed heat to keep his vegetative parts from perishing to frost, but still the idea of igniting a blaze in close quarters instinctually unnerved him.

"Beyond being obliterated by a crushing force, anything that harms vegetation can compromise me. Fire, blight, drought. I need my leaves for photosynthesis, or else I'd essentially starve."

After blithely tallying his weaknesses, Sphagnum reached up to comb through his leaves and came upon the pack nestled in his antlers. "I'd forgotten about this."

He loosened the drawstring and pulled out its contents. "Food Bar," he read and turned the cellophane packet over once in his hands before extending it toward Cassie. "Seems it's also in someone else's interest to provide for us."

“Centuries” she murmured “interesting.” Cassie peered at him as a kind of faraway look drifted over his eyes, she shook her head and looked at her feet. It was hard not to ask rude and condescending questions when she wasn’t even sure how he came to be, for starters he walked and talked sorta like a human but Sphagnum wasn’t human. That was for certain.

He spoke about all the things which had an effect on him, whether that be fire or drought. Cassie tipped her head slightly to the side “what happens if there’s no sunshine only snow for days? Do you feel really weak?” She asked genuinely curious now.

He pulled his pack down off his head and pulled out a food bar, that’s when she remembered she had one too. Cassie spun frantically looking for it, she let out the breath she had been holding when she spotted it resting against the wall behind her. With her bow and quiver of arrows beside it.

“Oh, you will need-“ she broke off, he wouldn’t need it. He’d already said so. “Thanks” she said taking the food bar and turning so it was in her bag. “Do you have water? You might need it if you don’t. If you don’t you can share mine” she said feeling the distinct need to pay him back for the food bar.

 

[HeavensHens88]

Falling.

Pickles approached consciousness with the very distinct sensation of falling.

Now, she was a fairly average human being, and as a fairly average human being, her brain manufactured its fair share of freefall dreams. Analogous as they were to being in turmoil over lacking control over a situation, her sleeping self actually speedran them pretty regularly.
But oddly enough, she didn't really have a corresponding visual playing behind her sealed eyes. In fact, this entire night had seemed dreamless- or perhaps it'd just been a series of subliminal sensory trips after all. Ah, how wonderful was it when your cortex manufactured such frustratingly latent experiences that obligated you to redefine reality for a good seventeen minutes as your roommates broke the poor coffee pot for the third time this week in the crossfire of their procrastination-maddened bathroom dash.

And as desensitized to the regularly scheduled drop as she was, she embraced wakefulness with an ardor for the fresh day that awaited her.

Yet, when she opened her eyes, the sense of the world being rapidly inverted remained.
And what she was seeing?
Definitely not the sunflower yellow ceiling of her college apartment.

More like blue skies obscured by nothing but a spattering of stratus clouds.

And she was, indeed, rapidly falling away from said skies.
Also infrequently coming in contact with abrasive surfaces while she was at it.
Pickles then found she, being quite midair, had relative freedom of movement -well, at least until she hip-bumped sociable rock again- and twisted to see the slope of a sizable land mass descending in time with her vertical relocation. Okay, so she'd fallen off a mountain and was now set on a crash course for a bush-spotted plateau between the foot of this peak and and the pinnacle of the next one.

She figured her long-suffering professors would be proud of her for expediting this irrefutable conclusion in record time.
"Wow, I'm drunk!"

Yet, however much the plausibility of her judgment, the following collision hit awfully like incontrovertible materiality.
Her legs hit very corporeal stone while her upper body was embraced by a very armed bush.
The simultaneous shattering of her right kneecap and dislocation of her right ankle definitely served to further cement the legitimacy of this insanity.

Facedown in briars, she gave the scathingly clear sky a very specific hand gesture as she reveled in the agony. "Wow, I'm not drunk!"

It was a hot minute before she even thought about disentangling herself from the bush and actually taking initiative to evaluate the damage she'd taken.
When her options for next course of action to take favored being smart like that, Pickles instead decided to take this opportunity to review her life- or, rather, what it should be. And she was not going to do it in her head.
"I went to bed last night as a perfectly normal student of Otis College of Art and Design in Los Angeles, California," she asserted through clenched teeth. The more effort she put into talking, the less energy she'd have to spare on keeping her legs in pain. Right?
"Being that I was headed for a doomed exam today, I was not intoxicated in any way, shape, or form. I was on perfectly good and sane terms with my equally sober roommates. Even if the vibes were off, there is no way that those three twiggy nerds dragged me out from to here- what, the Santa Monica mountains?"
As she rambled, she was working on inexorably rotating herself upward and out of the defensive shrub. Pathetically enough, she was grateful to no end for the barbed brambles dragging through her skin and giving her a greater, yet far more treatable, pain to fixate on. "It's nowhere near sorority initiation season. Did I somehow ask for a rite of passage granting access to the darker halls on campus? Maybe! Am I suddenly on someone's hitlist, but they're too chicken to do me in themselves? Sure, why not! Is this Naked and Afraid? Then why am I fully clothed?"
The hurt she'd generated by jarring her busted parts erupted in both a series of psychotic chortles and an expulsion of boiling tears. As she finally rolled free onto level stone, a big brain thought struck her like a smooth criminal. "Yo, I could be suffering from anemia! Sick memory loss! That'd account for this! You know what, I could have lived years since I was in my room! I've since graduated, decided to skip revolutionizing the toy industry completely, and went straight to feral hobo! Maybe I'm legendarily madcap! The possibilities are limitless!"

As she progressed with getting more and more mindless in her deliberations to herself, her eyes decided to be the most witted part of her and worked on really taking in her surroundings.
The mountains weren't necessarily huge. That could be gathered not only by raw perspective, but by how the most supreme peak only had the faintest glimmer of frost adorning it. In her range of vision, there were five rises stretched above her and perhaps twice that in immature prominences vying for dominance beneath her plateau.
The continuous ground didn't appear more than a couple hundred feet down and appeared largely comprised of tributary-permeated grasses. As per her 20/14 eyesight, the surrounding peneplain continued on indefinitely, and entirely without any indicators of human influence.

While she was retracing her gaze, something blindingly inappropriate amongst the untouched terrain caught her eye. Some sort of knapsack, caught in a cranny she supposed right from where Humpty Dumpty Had Her Great Fall.
The little logic she kept corralled in her head suddenly banded together to arrive at the highly contradictory conclusion that she should probably go back up for the one other comfortingly unnatural thing here.

"I am in pain!" she told the whacked world before assaulting the atmosphere with an overdue scream.

After an indefinite stretch of time passed, Pickles decided her pain had been sufficiently grieved and sized up her offending knee.
"Alright, sister, here's the dealio."

She tugged her faded Miami Dolphins tee -merch for a team she'd never even seen play, let alone rooted for- up over her head and began working it around her knee. Could you splint a bad knee? Seeing as how it wouldn't take any more than a fourth of her weight as it was, it was worth giving a try.

"You're going to make like you're functional and I'm going to fetch that bag."

She gave the lopsided balloon of fabric an affirmative nod and, without further adieu, heaved herself up.

It was by no means a fix. The misaligned, fractured ends of her patella and femur put in no uncertain terms just how utterly wrong they were set together. Even after her expertly attempted brace, her ankle was still, by far, the lesser of the two evils.

But she stayed up.
Though the bandage wasn't about to get any credit.

Not about to sit around any longer and allow the reality of her invalidity kick in, Pickles hooked the firmest grip she could muster onto the most local prominence and got herself in motion.

It was rough going. For every inch she advanced upward, she'd fall another five upon her next movement. Curtains of hazing blackness threatened to descend every time she jarred her forsaken right leg.

But, somehow, she made it to the perch from which the the infuriatingly irresistible bag had gloated at her all the while.

The outcropping upon which it sat was more significant than she'd supposed prior; for what she could get out here, it would do nicely as a hospital bed.
"I'm...just...gonna..." Pickles wheezed as she inched herself across the home stretch, only to collapse a foot short of having Holy Grail of Bags in her grasp. "...minute...need a... minute..."


Not formerly aware of having lost consciousness, being awoken by a deranged chortle was an experience.

Immediately, by instinctual reflex, she hurdled forward to seize the knapsack.
Her sigh of relief when her hands met material and hugged it to her chest was a mighty gust fresh out of a tornado.

Only now was she ready to face this...

Pickles only had to shift onto her lift hip to see her company.

Expertly situated upon the incline itself sat a bizarre-looking dog.
Covered in white shaggy hair.
Standing on hard, rounded little feet.
With horns.

No, that couldn't be right.

Pickles squinted at it in a grab for clarity.

It laughed again. With unmistakable malevolence.

No, that wasn't a laugh.

"Goat," Pickles ascertained aloud.

The mountain goat hopped neatly onto her ledge in affirmation.
Pickles backed up against the rock face accordingly and gave it her most cordial smile. Did goats read facial expressions? This one certainly looked sentient enough to feel animosity.
"Nice goat," she pleaded as it started closing the distance between them with a stalking march. "Nice goat."

Troll's beard swaying, it kept on coming.

Pickles forgot all of her pain as it locked gazes with her.

Endless, soulless blackness penetrated her psyche in all the worst places.

She now knew no other fear, no needs, no uncertainties.
Who even was she?
What was an identity in the face of goat?

Nothing else remained.

Only goat.

And she was entirely at its mercy.

 

[Cluckcluck1215]

Zayne trailed closely behind them, his gaze wandering the vibrant treetops. It was beautiful, really, the way sunbeams broke through the trees, casting splotches of light across the moss-covered floor. Vines crawled up the tree trunks, some with flowers, while others had fruit of varying shades of red and green.

"I know, right? I live in the city, so this is place is awesome. It's like those enchanted forest books I always saw in the library growing up," he answered, running his fingertips over one of the tree trunks as he walked. His hand snagged on a thorn and he jerked away, sticking the small wound in his mouth. Note to self, don't touch those.

He glanced at Xavier, his brows furrowing as he met the uneasy look on its face. "You. . . didn't mean it like that, did you." Zayne shook his head, lowering his hand. "I'm not quite sure I understand. I mean, it looks real. The prick I got was definitely real." He showed his hand, a dot of blood coming from a fingertip, before he stuck it back into his mouth, sucking the blood away.

Now that Xavier had mentioned it, he did notice some things felt off, though he couldn't place his finger on what. Maybe it was simply from waking up in an unknown location, or maybe they were right. Maybe it wasn't real. Either way, the hair on the back of his head stood up and he became much more alert, his eyes darting around.

"Mhm." Xai hummed softly, fingertips dancing along the edge of a long, pale purple leaf as they walked. "It looks real, yes. It just feels... wrong."

They glanced behind them, raising a brow at Zayne's distressed expression. It paused, turning completely to face him. "What's wrong with you?" It muttered, clutching their bow.

 

[Cluckcluck1215]

(I’m so sorry but my brain is not working atm XD)

The Reaper jerked its body completely in their direction, a wide Cheshire-like grin spreading across its face so its bright yellow awry teeth were at full display. Instead of speaking like the last one, it gave off rather guttural and sickening noises tore through its throat as it stepped toward them, its elongated black arms stretching out towards them.

Zulema gave a sharp curse underneath her breath, “We were so close..” she whispered upon hearing the Reaper redirecting its course. Taking a few steps back away from Theodore while completely facing xem, she adjusted the crossbow in her hands. “You need to keep going straight past us until you reach the honeysuckle bush and find your way inside to the school bus.” She informed, completely retaining her cool before facing off with the Reaper. She whirled and shot her first arrow at the hideous creature, only for it to be evaded as the Reaper turned into a ghastly black fog and collapse to the ground. No longer under of the protection of the shade casted from the trees around her, the exposure from the sun began to singe Zulema’s hands. Hardly giving any sort of reaction, she glanced back at Theodore.“Get moving, I’ll catch up with you in a sec.” Her voice firm but reassuring.

Theo stared, watching the arrow fly from her bow, the Reaper vanishing in a flare of think black smoke that quickly faded as it hit the ground.
"Dude, it'll kill you!" He hissed under his breath, leaning uncomfortably to be at eye level with her. The hair on the back of xyr neck prickled, goosebumps racing down their spine. The Reaper may have been out of sight, but it definitely wasn't gone.

Xe paused, lip curling. Smoke?
They glanced down, eyes widened at the sight. Zulema's pale hands were quickly burning up, smoking and crisping. "What the hell?!"
Wait, wait, wait...
His gaze directed upwards towards the glaring sun that she had stepped into, and then back to her. Back to her hands.
Hands.
That were directly in the sunlight.
"Vampire..?" Xe murmured softly. Quickly shaking his head, they reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the shadows. "Or the sun might, you idiot. What are you? A vampire?"

 

[Yowza Wowza]

Theo stared, watching the arrow fly from her bow, the Reaper vanishing in a flare of think black smoke that quickly faded as it hit the ground.
"Dude, it'll kill you!" He hissed under his breath, leaning uncomfortably to be at eye level with her. The hair on the back of xyr neck prickled, goosebumps racing down their spine. The Reaper may have been out of sight, but it definitely wasn't gone.

Xe paused, lip curling. Smoke?
They glanced down, eyes widened at the sight. Zulema's pale hands were quickly burning up, smoking and crisping. "What the hell?!"
Wait, wait, wait...
His gaze directed upwards towards the glaring sun that she had stepped into, and then back to her. Back to her hands.
Hands.
That were directly in the sunlight.
"Vampire..?" Xe murmured softly. Quickly shaking his head, they reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the shadows. "Or the sun might, you idiot. What are you? A vampire?"

Zulema locked eyes with Theodore after they abruptly yanked her into the safety of cover from the sun. There was a glint of annoyance in her eyes that xe refused to do as she said. ‘What are you? A vampire?’ Taking a deep breath, she nodded her head. “Yes, yes I am, nowgetthehelloutofhere.” she spouted out, obnoxiously pushing him in the direction of the honeysuckle bush with a free hand while constantly keeping an eye out for the Reaper’s emergence from the ground.

Sounds of a disembodied deathly rattle echoed into the air, with no exact location to pinpoint.

You want to play hide and seek? I’ll play.

Giving Theodore one last shove, Zulema reached inside of her cloak and pulled out a marble sized object with a stem. “I’ve dealt with these things before. Now move.” she hissed, tossing the object onto the ground for it to supercharge and shake explosively in its firework nature. Now ignited, the cherry bomb sped off in wild, winding curves as it tracked down the Reaper.

Prepping her bow once more, Zulema turned away from Theodore and in a matter of seconds, her apparent figure stared to vanish from the head, down.

“See you.”

 

[Amer]

@HeavensHens88