[OOM] Labyrinth.
Dec. 16th, 2008 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stuck_mynockHe wandered the cave - or the labyrinth within the cave - for almost a day. By his reckoning, at least, but he couldn’t be sure - There was no way to tell.
As he sliced through something spindly, insectoid and blue with his lightsaber, it occured to him that he should have expected a cave near Milliways to be as bizarre as Milliways was. It hadn’t taken him long to get lost, and while he tried to keep a mental map, after a few hours it was such a complex shape that he just lost track of it all.
He’d passed through a shimmering, silvery waterfall, not ten minutes after he’d entered, and headed straight into a tunnel of cold metal, like the sort he’d see on a warship, and from there, into a series of tunnels that looked like they’d go better in some ancient city. That was where he’d turned back. That was where the monsters first attacked him.
Mostly monsters, at least. Big furry things, little furry things, things with scales, insects, men with gas masks and guns who seemed to be in one place one moment and gone the next, battle droids of a design that Atton didn’t recognise, that rolled in little curled up balls and trapped themselves in bubbles when they expanded into humanoid shapes.
Atton fought his way through them all, onwards through the ever changing setting. Even the landscape itself seemed to be against him, at times. Chasms blocked his path, or the floor crumbled away beneath his feet. Atton leapt and swung his way past those, headed onwards, and quickly found that he wasn’t going to get back to Milliways. Not easily.
Either the tunnels had changed, or he’d taken a wrong turning somewhere, because he didn’t recognise the corridors, seemingly taken wholesale from a Rakatan temple, that he’d ended up in twenty minutes after turning back.
He wandered. For the rest of the day, he tried to find a way out and back to Milliways.
When he eventually got out, it wasn’t to Milliways. That much was certain.
------------
Atton leapt out from beneath a tree, as a gout of blue flame followed him. He sprawled on the ground, wincing, peering around.
A flat thought entered his head - He could have picked another world to come out into. A better world.
This world looked like it had taken its cue from all the worst fairytales. There was nothing markedly abnormal about it, save that all the colours had gone terribly wrong.
There was sunlight, up above, a sort of watery blue sunlight, but it was almost completely blocked off by the dark, greenish-grey leaves. The trees were black, twisted into strange shapes, and the grass was absurdly tall, dark green. There wasn’t a flower in sight.
There were, however, people. Or maybe they had been people, but weren’t anymore. They looked like they had been overcome by some sort of tentacular force that had shrouded them in writhing, many-limbed shadow, leaving only two glowing lanterns in their face to serve as any suggestions of features.
They were mostly men, mostly burly and long-haired, with a few skinny ones who Atton imagined had been bullied a lot. They weren’t anymore. In mindless shadow-hood, everybody was equal, after all. That was a nice thought.
Some of them had been soldiers once, he figured, from their tattered armour, and others just woodsmen. Some of them might have barely been Will’s age. Atton didn’t really know, it was difficult to tell when they were just shadowy shapes, surrounding him with a chuckle - nothing particular real, but a sort of hollow echo of gleeful cruelty.
Atton hopped his feet, flicking on his lightsaber. It sparked uselessly.
“Figures.”
A sword, long and curved, spun out of the distant reaches of the forest bisecting one of the smaller shadows neatly before swinging back to its owner’s hand. Atton fought down a surge of relief at the aid - There was nothing to suggest this person had better intentions for him than the shadows.
Said person was almost as tall as Atton, but swathed in enough coats and cloaks that he looked like a bundle of fabric. One hand clutched a curved sword, marked with runes, the other was drawn back, covered with a metal and bone gauntlet, tipped with sharp claws.
Atton didn’t see him for long. He touched his sword to a puddle of water, muttered a word, and a thick fog sprung up. Atton recoiled a little as the man disappeared from all his senses.
Something strode past him, behind him. The shadows headed in that direction.
Atton jumped as he felt a shoulder brush by his, caught a brief flash of white hair, and then saw three of the shadows cut down in an instant. As the remaining four scattered, he caught a brief whiff of something like aftershave, before another fell, and another. Turning towards the other two, he saw the figure, shrouded in mist behind them, before they were both cut down.
The mist faded. The figure drew back his hood - He was an old man, grizzled, missing one eye, and smiling benignly.
“I had bones,” he said by way of explanation. “Come, I brought horses for two, and Marcuria is not far from here.”
“Thanks,” Atton frowned, suspiciously. “Where exactly am I?”
The old man just chuckled. “The Northlands of Arcadia.”
As he sliced through something spindly, insectoid and blue with his lightsaber, it occured to him that he should have expected a cave near Milliways to be as bizarre as Milliways was. It hadn’t taken him long to get lost, and while he tried to keep a mental map, after a few hours it was such a complex shape that he just lost track of it all.
He’d passed through a shimmering, silvery waterfall, not ten minutes after he’d entered, and headed straight into a tunnel of cold metal, like the sort he’d see on a warship, and from there, into a series of tunnels that looked like they’d go better in some ancient city. That was where he’d turned back. That was where the monsters first attacked him.
Mostly monsters, at least. Big furry things, little furry things, things with scales, insects, men with gas masks and guns who seemed to be in one place one moment and gone the next, battle droids of a design that Atton didn’t recognise, that rolled in little curled up balls and trapped themselves in bubbles when they expanded into humanoid shapes.
Atton fought his way through them all, onwards through the ever changing setting. Even the landscape itself seemed to be against him, at times. Chasms blocked his path, or the floor crumbled away beneath his feet. Atton leapt and swung his way past those, headed onwards, and quickly found that he wasn’t going to get back to Milliways. Not easily.
Either the tunnels had changed, or he’d taken a wrong turning somewhere, because he didn’t recognise the corridors, seemingly taken wholesale from a Rakatan temple, that he’d ended up in twenty minutes after turning back.
He wandered. For the rest of the day, he tried to find a way out and back to Milliways.
When he eventually got out, it wasn’t to Milliways. That much was certain.
------------
Atton leapt out from beneath a tree, as a gout of blue flame followed him. He sprawled on the ground, wincing, peering around.
A flat thought entered his head - He could have picked another world to come out into. A better world.
This world looked like it had taken its cue from all the worst fairytales. There was nothing markedly abnormal about it, save that all the colours had gone terribly wrong.
There was sunlight, up above, a sort of watery blue sunlight, but it was almost completely blocked off by the dark, greenish-grey leaves. The trees were black, twisted into strange shapes, and the grass was absurdly tall, dark green. There wasn’t a flower in sight.
There were, however, people. Or maybe they had been people, but weren’t anymore. They looked like they had been overcome by some sort of tentacular force that had shrouded them in writhing, many-limbed shadow, leaving only two glowing lanterns in their face to serve as any suggestions of features.
They were mostly men, mostly burly and long-haired, with a few skinny ones who Atton imagined had been bullied a lot. They weren’t anymore. In mindless shadow-hood, everybody was equal, after all. That was a nice thought.
Some of them had been soldiers once, he figured, from their tattered armour, and others just woodsmen. Some of them might have barely been Will’s age. Atton didn’t really know, it was difficult to tell when they were just shadowy shapes, surrounding him with a chuckle - nothing particular real, but a sort of hollow echo of gleeful cruelty.
Atton hopped his feet, flicking on his lightsaber. It sparked uselessly.
“Figures.”
A sword, long and curved, spun out of the distant reaches of the forest bisecting one of the smaller shadows neatly before swinging back to its owner’s hand. Atton fought down a surge of relief at the aid - There was nothing to suggest this person had better intentions for him than the shadows.
Said person was almost as tall as Atton, but swathed in enough coats and cloaks that he looked like a bundle of fabric. One hand clutched a curved sword, marked with runes, the other was drawn back, covered with a metal and bone gauntlet, tipped with sharp claws.
Atton didn’t see him for long. He touched his sword to a puddle of water, muttered a word, and a thick fog sprung up. Atton recoiled a little as the man disappeared from all his senses.
Something strode past him, behind him. The shadows headed in that direction.
Atton jumped as he felt a shoulder brush by his, caught a brief flash of white hair, and then saw three of the shadows cut down in an instant. As the remaining four scattered, he caught a brief whiff of something like aftershave, before another fell, and another. Turning towards the other two, he saw the figure, shrouded in mist behind them, before they were both cut down.
The mist faded. The figure drew back his hood - He was an old man, grizzled, missing one eye, and smiling benignly.
“I had bones,” he said by way of explanation. “Come, I brought horses for two, and Marcuria is not far from here.”
“Thanks,” Atton frowned, suspiciously. “Where exactly am I?”
The old man just chuckled. “The Northlands of Arcadia.”
