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Sands of Oblivion

Abyss

37.5 INK

a part of Sands of Oblivion, by MartinVole.

The black ocean, littered with the ruins of a long forgotten advanced civilization that still flickers with echoes of a long forgotten yesterday. The weight of the abyssal sea makes even the most buoyant vessel sink like a stone.

MartinVole holds sovereignty over Abyss, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

325 readers have been here.

Setting

The black ocean, littered with the ruins of a long forgotten advanced civilization that still flickers with echoes of a long forgotten yesterday. The weight of the abyssal sea makes even the most buoyant vessel sink like a stone.
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Abyss

The black ocean, littered with the ruins of a long forgotten advanced civilization that still flickers with echoes of a long forgotten yesterday. The weight of the abyssal sea makes even the most buoyant vessel sink like a stone.

Minimap

Abyss is a part of The Land of Nod.

2 Characters Here

OttO [7] The Mask Maker, an eerie figure etched in memory
Kuakare Ishtapur [6] A Mage whose means are justified by his ends

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Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Engrinn
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0.25 INK

Image

The Abyss, filled with thick black fluid, so deep, so infinitely deep. Structures in the horizon flicker with ghostly light, of some lingering phantasm of a former glory, now forever partially submerged and unreachable. The Un gather at the shores, shuffling back and forth without direction, eyes blank of various colors within the carved eyeholes of their masks. Directionless humanoid forms, some vaguer than others.

By the shore, gray withered and twisted white plants grow from the black rocks. A purple fruit sprouts from one of the white plants, one of the few sources of color in this monochromatic world, and the Un react almost immediately, and they all lunge towards it, each kicking, biting, and clawing at the other to grab hold of it. The Echo Fruit, as it is called, is said to grow full off memories that flow off the dark waters, refined through the strange plant. As they fight, the fruit is knocked away from the crowd and rolls to the bandaged feet of another figure, dressed in prisoner garb and laden with manacles and broken chains, standing there observing the fight. His mask is more ornate than the others, a fissure in it from some kind of impact, cracks near the mouth forming a crooked grin. They turn to look, as to their horror the figure leans over, and, with his manacle clad hands grips the fruit as best he can and lifts it up.

"Gosh, all this fuss over one berry? Didn't your mommies tell you to share?" a jovial young man's voice emits. He grunts and writhes for a moment, a weird clicking and distortion surrounds him and his right green eye flickers out, and the other, a red one, glows in his left.

"Pathetic, I need not steal memories to make me whole," the figure interrupts himself, now with a colder tone. "Witness what your struggles amount to."

The figure attempts to squeeze the fruit, the Un fall onto the ground in a pile, crawling over one another, whimpering and pleading incoherently, hands out.

"Be not so cruel to them, Engrinn, they know not what they do," a man's voice calls out from a short distance.

The figure, apparently named Engrinn drops the fruit and it rolls to the savage Un, and they return to their struggle over it. Engrinn quickly turns away from them, to another figure seated on a large black stone, tall and lanky, carving a mask with a strange black knife. Many come to know this enigmatic being as OttO, Oh-toe, the mask maker, the seer. His mask, long and birdlike, or mantid, decorated with its large eyes that stare off into different directions, forever fixed gazing off absently.

"You said my name, my name! You know me? Who I am? Tell me, tell me!" the young voice excitedly exclaims, hopping about with hands out like a child wanting a gift.

"I know you by your mask, I carved it, I believe," OttO answers, continuing his carving. "You know how memories are here, fleeting and easily—confused." He chortles as his mask tilts to the side.

"I'm not playing your games, mask maker, you know something and I'll break your hands if your next answer is something cryptic," the cold voice of Engrinn says.

"My my, quite a schism you have, perhaps it is that..." OttO starts saying, putting down the mask he is carving, and suddenly, abruptly, there is a distortion and he's gone, and his long fingers reached around to Engrinn's mask and traces the crack in his mask. "...crack, right here."

Engrinn reacts by shoving against OttO and stumbling away to make distance. His eyes, both, flicker in confusion. He shakes his head as his head shakes violently. He holds his head as best he can, clearly in distress as distorted fragments flutter about his body.

"W̶̻̃ḧ̷̨ ̸̲̍a̵̪̿t̶̝́d̸̳͛ǐ̷͙d̶̢̾ ̵͈͌d̷͕̈́ī̸̙d̴̡̾ ̶̛̣..!" Engrinn shouts in a panicked distorted voice.

"Ah, it seems my prognosis is correct, I can fix it, of course," OttO says.

Engrinn begins to calm, bent over and holding his chest, his shaking eyes fixate on OttO, a confused emotion within them both. "Y̸o̷u̷ ̵c̸a̵n̷?̵"

"I need some materials for such an intricate piece," OttO says, pointing out at the building sunken in the black waters. "Old material... too bad none of us can swim in or or fly over it, hah hah hah! Oh, but I remember something... a Nix lord had a weapon carved from it—perhaps."

"It would... fix me? Make me whole..?" Engrinn says, his voice becoming clear once more and hopeful.

"It would, but getting to it would require getting in, and as you know, you are not Nix... you are Un," OttO says, rapping his long spindly fingers on his head in thought. "Oh, but unlike these poor fellows, perhaps you could lie, befriend one of them and claim to be Nix yourself."

"Lie, but that would be—so easy," Engrinn says, his voice changing mid-sentence. H begins to turn away from OttO, towards the sands of Oblivion. He looks back once more at the mask maker."I retrieve this blade, and you will fix me? No tricks?"

OttO was no longer there, having disappeared without any trace.

"Right," Engrinn utters as he leaves on a trek towards Nix territory.

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Kuakare Ishtapur
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0.00 INK

#, as written by Valdus
The man in dark robes appeared from nowhere, ignoring any safeguards that may have been in place. He looked about and seemed very confused.

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Kuakare Ishtapur
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0.00 INK

Much of the Un gathered were still fighting amongst themselves over the fruit, but the few that broke off crack their heads in the direction of the newcomer. As if able to sense the presence of his *self*, they shuffled and crawled towards him. Only for the tall form of OttO to come out from seemingly nowhere, just outside the corner of the eye. With outstretched arms he halted the advance of the Un.

"No," he said plainly, and the Un stopped, and surprisingly turned away after gawking at the man a few more times.

OttO then turned about to face the figure and bowed, with his height was almost like a falling tree coming towards him. His masked face was only a foot away when he spoke again, in words he had rehearsed so many times before.

"You are confused, I understand. For whatever means, for whatever cause, you have slipped beyond the cracks of the veil from your reality... into one that should not exist. This is not Heaven, this is not Hell, and you are most certainly not dead. Some call it Nowhere, Nod, The Gray Space, Oblivion, among others," he says, straightening up only to kneel on one knee and held his spindly hand over his chest. "I, OttO, the humble Mask Maker welcome you to the Sands of Oblivion. I can help you acclimate, if you wish, I have many masks for that... or I can direct you to a place where others like yourself have been... displaced. Just know that getting here is easy, leaving is more complicated."

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Kuakare Ishtapur
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0.00 INK

#, as written by Valdus
The man, clearly of an elven ancestry shakes his head, the images swimming before his eyes. "I must rest for a moment, as my body and mind take to this gateway. I am confused, for I usually only travel to places of strong magic. Thus I will stay, finding that source."

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Kuakare Ishtapur
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0.00 INK

"Magic?" OttO muttered, deep in thought as he stroked the chin of his unseen face. The eyes of his mask wiggled slightly as an arcane energy caused them to flicker with light. "Ah, I see, I see, you too seek, perhaps what is lost, and you found, here. Here is where things are lost... memories, knowledge... magic, washed here like driftwood. Is how I found my craft, but there are others who found theirs as well, and they were displaced... like you. I bet they have quite the collection..."

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Kuakare Ishtapur
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0.00 INK

#, as written by Valdus
 "Ye Gods if this be a sewer, an endpoint for forgotten magic, than I believe I am in the right place sir." The half-elf in the crimson robes staggered, grabbing his staff and pushing his white hair back, revealing his hopeful expression. Then he looked about and suddenly became inspired. "Dare I say would this forgotten reservoir be an escape from this bitter place?"

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: OttO Character Portrait: Kuakare Ishtapur
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0.00 INK

#, as written by MartinVole
"Escape?" the uncomfortably tall masked man says quietly as the last words of Kuakare were spoken. It was as if that thought was something so profound.

The mask of OttO rattled lightly and he paused, frozen in place. He pulled away his hand and held up a finger.

"Ah, yes... yes!" he says, as if a revelation came to him. He points out across the sands, and shifts his head to the side, resting against his outstretched arm's shoulder. "Across the sands there is a great fortress, there lives those like yourself who have come here. Me and my kin are not welcome there... but you? You wouldn't have that problem, they would welcome you! Yes! There in those halls are many things lost that have been gathered, in their own aspirations of escape... and their king? He holds a blade of ancient material, of the oldest magic I know."

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