Vertigo

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

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She should've never trusted him with Isabella. He should've never trusted himself with Isabella.

That was the first and last thought in Abel's mind, before his daughter's screams became his entire world. Vision tunneling, he dashed inside the daycare — or at least, he thought he had. Looking around now, he wasn't sure where the hell he'd ended up. The jungle gym itself wasn't that out of place, he figured, never actually having set foot inside a daycare before. A room with a bunch of them and no way out? With some creepy spray painted text? Slides leading into who knew where? Starting to look out of place. And where had he even entered this damn place from? There was no door.

"Truth, huh. Now what truth would that be..." he mumbled as he stared at the text, rubbing at his knuckles to steady his hands, still shaking from anger. Rampaging through the damn place wouldn't help. If anything, it'd make it even more difficult to find an exit, he wagered.

Abel took a step closer to the slides, nearing the one without text, when he heard giggling. He froze, quickly unclenching his hands and assuming a more relaxed posture, just in case there were children about. "Someone out there?" he called in what he hoped was at least a semi-friendly tone — but probably wasn't.

Through the netting, he could see movement in the ball pit. He expected to see children, terrified and hiding from whatever was going on. The more the voices spoke, though, the clearer it was that they did not belong to children. Not... sane ones, anyway.

Then they spoke her name.

Abel lashed closer to the netting, trying to see who — or what — lurked in the pit. "Who are you? Who is doing this? What do you w—"

Another giggle. He whirled around, gaze searching the floor below, until it landed on a pink teddy bear. The voice seemed to be coming from it. Was he supposed to believe the toy talked? Bullshit. It must've had a voice box inside. Perhaps it was even a small robot. Regardless, someone had to be responsible for it, and that someone must've been watching.

The pink teddy bear wasn't making much more sense than the other voices had. "Who are 'they?'"

A thud.

Once again, Abel was forced to turn around and find the source of the noise. This time, it was pretty easy; a steel pole was crossing the room from floor to ceiling, and he could have sworn it wasn't there before. Abel's gaze followed the thing up to the hole. He could probably use that to climb. Better than the slides. But that meant getting down from his vantage point and crossing a room with... something out there, waiting for him. He knew he wasn't alone.

Abel drew in a breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his head. Right. Calm down. Just... one damn thing at a time. Before anything else, he stuck a hand into his pocket, fished out a few doggy treats — which the voices had also mentioned, through what had to be a freak coincidence — and tried tossing some into the ball pit he'd first heard the voices from.

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

@Vertigo Since you got a 9 on your moon magic roll, pick 1 of the following:
- The magic is exceptionally powerful.
- The magic remains within your control.

@XxFellsingxX

Hmm, let's go with "The magic remains within your control", so it can hopefully work more precisely to pinpoint a source/reason for the chaotic magic (if any) as she moves forward.

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

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Well.

The good news was that Garrock was indeed slower once he was up in the sky, and with few things to obscure the large dragon against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, he was much easier to keep track of besides.

... The bad news was that keeping up with the old coot quickly turned out to be the least of Fellwing's problems.

It started as an uncomfortable prickling sensation, a warning so clear even Shieldwing would've noticed it. Much like him, however, Fellwing did not heed it, stubbornly — if a little more carefully, now — pushing deeper into the woods. It couldn't have been that big a trek, surely. She'd be in and out before anything bad happened.

Except... the very air itself didn't seem to want her to get in at all. By now, what had started as the prickling of tiny needles had turned into the sensation of a thousand blades pressing into her scales, trying to force her back. And the moment she stopped pushing forward with her entire body, she felt her feet sliding, had to spread out her wings to try and better resist the push. But she knew it wouldn't help for long. Whatever this... magic was, she could not tame it with her wings.

But perhaps with magic, she might. Even at the risk of sliding backwards, Fellwing stopped. This was no longer about reaching Garrock, who she hadn't even glanced up at in a while. No, this was about figuring out what was going on with the magic here. She had to find its source, had to find whatever it did not want her to see.

She closed her eyes, thinking about the Shadows, but opting to call for the Liberty Moon, instead. May it give her clarity, and guide her through whatever manner of chaos or curse hindered her.

ooc

Fellwing returns a friendship gem to Skobeloff and calls for the Liberty Moon with a 9.

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

... I love Garnet already.

Also is she asking for 'tar-flavoured' ice cream? Garnet, I don't know what you've been eating, but that's not a proper flavor.

@XxFellsingxX

Thanks, she's much fun to write!

Hahaha, that she is indeed, and as a Finn, I can assure you that tar ice cream is a real flavor! B) _{(But I'm not claiming it's good...)}

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

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_{Great Bazaar, Market Ward, Sigil
@Lurking Krog, @XxFellsingxX, @Abstract Proxy, @Guardian Angel Haruki}

Well, throw her to the waves and call her a pebble, the Great Bazaar sure had a fitting name! Whoever'd come up with it knew what they were doing. More so than her, anyway. She was absolutely lost, and it was only partly her fault this time.

Garnet had come to the Bazaar with a purpose in mind, lured by the rumours of a portal and a person who could take her there. If she had received more details, she'd long since forgotten them, and never had any actual leads or plans besides. Upon arrival, she'd realized that made her mission pretty much impossible; trying to find one specific person in the Great Bazaar was like trying to find one specific rock on a mountain. Worse, actually, because mountains were far easier on the senses! They were quiet places, at least after all the dwarves had gone to sleep.

Garnet had a hard time believing the Bazaar was ever quiet. She'd gotten overwhelmed fast and hard and was still reeling, a few hours in. From the shouts of the vendors to the clinking of coins exchanging hands, to the smell of incense, food and a million more things she couldn't even name, to the myriad of colours she hadn't known existed, there was never a break for any of her senses. And the moment she dared stop to marvel at any one thing was the moment someone bumped into her or, worse, stepped on her. She'd been responsible for at least three overturned carts that hadn't seen her in time, and the slashed shin of a man who had, but hadn't much cared. He was fine now, probably. The crowd had swallowed her and carried her away before she'd to witness the aftermath. The blood had stuck to her though, only partially covered by the sand and dust kicked up by the people that stomped their way past her.

And Garnet loved it. She was grinning from one dirty ear to the other, losing herself into the crowd and then popping back out elsewhere like a green, mischievous mercat, fingers made sticky with opportunity. She might've made a better thief had she been able to stop cackling for a second, but had managed to gather some souvenirs regardless.

She was humming to herself now, clutching her latest acquisition; a piece of parchment with... well. She wasn't... she wasn't sure exactly what was depicted, but it sure looked complicated, and that alone must've meant it was worth something. With a grin, the goblin stuffed the loot into her pocket, next to the two funny spheres that made annoying noises when brought together. Now then, what did she want nex—

"—to give other spell-casters a bit of edge in a fight."

Garnet stopped at that particular sales pitch, coming from a nearby ice cream stall. That... was her, wasn't it? She was a spellcaster. And though she was armed with quite a few edges, kept hidden in her pockets and sleeves, one could never have too many. Especially if they tasted delicious.

"Oh and if my customers are to be believed, they taste pretty good too."

Oh, she was sold.

Garnet hurried closer, noticing the hag that ran the stall was busy trying to sell to a ragtag group of four, one of whom — a tall, tall man who Garnet hurt her neck trying to look up at — was offering to pay for the rest. One of those hospitable, kind gestures the dwarves had always tried to teach to her, with varying degrees of success. She'd always been better at accepting offers than giving them out.

With the hag's attention elsewhere, Garnet wondered if she could sneak over and get herself a scoop, when one of the people declined the tall man's offer. Garnet had to do a double take. She declined? An offer? For free ice cream?! Her ears stood up, eyes widening. Like her mother always said, one woman's waste rock was the base of another's house. She couldn't let the opportunity go to waste!

Garnet scurried over to the group, eyes fixed on the hag, one hand held up in the air like a proper volunteer's ought. "I'll ta'e it!" She blurted out in a hurry, her accent a peculiar mix of goblin and dwarven. "Guy said 'e'd get four! 'n if she don't want 'ers, I do! Ta'! Gimme tar flavor!"

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

@Digizel Ha, sounds fun! Reminds me of he build's cousin, the dexterity Barbarian! :D Twice as good at taking hits, half as good at delivering them. I've a Hexblade Warlock/Swashbuckler Rogue without stealth (and with Medium Armor) too, it's fun. Reason being, he's too flamboyant to ever hide; what's the point of an honorable duel if you can't announce it to the world? And then promptly make it dishonorable by stabbing the opponent in the back, but you know.

@XxFellsingxXOoh, neat, will add those to her inventory! ... And the word rebus to my vocabulary.

I got a little sidetracked from posting, but if I can't finish tonight, then for sure tomorrow morning. Like, actually for sure for sure, this time.

Edit: LMAO missed the above two posts.

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

Garnet

^{( ♰ Sheet )}
Rogue ^lv1 / Death Cleric ^lv2 | Goblin | CN | Clan Crafter

♰ Bio

Garnet wasn't always a servant of the gods. For the first few years of her life, the only deity she knew was power; those who had it, ruled. Those who did not, were ruled over. Life was simple like that.

Back then, Garnet was known as 'Crafs'. Her home was little more than a hastily dug lair, located in the deepest, darkest parts of an unnamed wood. For the longest time, all she knew was conflict and hunger. Families being torn apart by bouts of violence, siblings fighting over scraps, friends stabbing each other in the back come the first opportunity. Garnet was no different. She owed her continued existence to the conflicts, always managing to claw her way out a victor - or, at the very least, a survivor.

That was, until her tribe got involved in matters far beyond their comprehension. To this day, Garnet is not privy to the details. All she knows is that one day, her tribesmen dragged a beaten human to their lair. He was dressed in fine clothes - which he was quickly relieved of - and was apparently to be kept alive until someone came to fetch him. There was a reward to be had - there had to, because the goblins would not have helped anyone out of kindness.

Someone did indeed come for the human - but not who the goblins expected. A rescue party of men clad in metal marched into one of their lairs, slaying many, sparing few. Garnet was lucky to count herself among the latter; she was captured to act as a guide, forced to reveal the locations of their other lairs lest she be put to the sword. She hesitated not for a minute.

With her part done and the humanoids busy raiding the rest of her tribe's home, Garnet fled. She knew her tribe would not take kindly to a traitor, even if every single one of them would've done the same thing in her shoes. She ran long and she ran far, until exhaustion finally claimed her. Had it not been for the kindness of an elderly dwarven couple, she would've likely succumbed to the elements. As things were, not only was she rescued, she was given a chance at a new life. The couple had no children of their own, and they were eager to adopt the wandering child as their own. They did ask questions - but upon noticing how scared she was to answer them, they pressed for them no longer.

"Garnet", as she came to be known, was brought up as a dwarf. A... strangely green dwarf, with pointy ears and bad habits aplenty, prone to bursts of violence when things didn't go her way. But her parents stuck by her. She became an apprentice smith to her mother, and was taught to revere Dwarven gods by her father, a miner and a man of faith. It was understood that she would follow in their footsteps; to either work at the forge, or the mines where most of the local dwarves toiled, merry.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for her.

Just as she'd settled into her new family, a tragedy struck at the mines. In their pursuit for gems, they dug too deep and ended up disturbing a creature from the Underdark. Though Garnet never saw it, she did see the affect it had on the community. One by one, the spores it released spread from one dwarf to the next, until the whole community, herself included, had fallen ill. The young and strong recovered well enough eventually, but such was not the case with the others. Garnet's parents were among the latter.

Healers, both those who relied on natural remedies and those relying on gods, tried to bring relief to the people. Garnet, not knowing what else to do, did her part and prayed, day and night, to any god she could think of, but her parents remained bedridden. Day after day, they got worse.

Then, long after the visiting healers had left, and her parents were at death's door, something happened. They woke. Not healthy but alive, and as far as Garnet could tell, definitely better. She could only imagine her prayers had been answered - her prayers to The Morrigan, in particular.

As it turned out, it wasn't just a one time miracle, either. Garnet found herself able to save others as well, pulling them from death's door when all hope seemed to be lost. At first, her new found powers and connections to the divine were a cause for celebration - but then, far too soon, she learnt the limits of her power. She could prevent others from dying, yes, but she could not truly cure them; and so, people get slipping away from her, time and again, needing to be brought back, day in and day out. Garnet was exhausted, and so were her patients. Surely this couldn't be her god's way of answering prayers?

In her anger, Garnet demanded answers from The Morrigan - and eventually, felt her powers falter. Whether it was due to her lack of faith or punishment from the goddess, she did not know. Either way, the consequences were the same: many a patient slipped through her fingers.

Then Tir na Og disappeared. Supposedly, so did many gods, including her own. She expected to lose her powers entirely.

What happened was the complete opposite. For a time, yes, what remained of Garnet's powers felt strange, uncomfortable, distant - and then, out of nowhere, she found herself to be stronger than ever before. Patients she hadn't been able to help before were suddenly within her power to save, her parents included. It made no sense. Unless... maybe her powers were never granted by any goddess to begin with - maybe, from the start, they were her own.

With people no longer sick and dying, the once prosperous dwarf community started to slowly rebuild itself, albeit far from their original home. Garnet the furthest of them all. Her parents had raised her to be hardworking and ambitious, and so when she realized money was becoming tight, she offered to go make a fortune out in the world. She promised to send home both letters and gold alike, and that she would come visit whenever able - with tales of her adventures in tow.

She did not promise all the gold would be well-earned. There is, at the end of the day, some goblin still left in her after all.

♰ Factions //
Ring-givers: Weird people who wanna give away all their stuff. Well, lucky for them, Garnet loves stuff. So, she's taken a bunch o' stuff from them. They're welcome.
Godslayers: Look, she just wants to have a word, alright?

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

That'd be a 6!

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

<Snipped quote by Vertigo>

A rogue without a sleight of hand proficiency. That's going to be interesting xD

But yeah, nah, she's only been able to get a couple of pretty cheap, useless baubles.

... I am mildly tempted to have her roll on one of the trinket tables just for funzies.

@XxFellsingxX

That was definitely an oversight on my part rather than a conscious, bold decision 😂 I guess it does kind of make sense for her, at least. She's too excited to get her grabby hands on stuff not to fumble and drop the said stuff immediately.

She will treasure those useless baubles!

I am ready and itchin' to roll for a trinket whenever jsyk. Think of the funzies.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Abel Wyatt

Abel James Wyatt

34 | M | 7th November | 6'1'' | 178lbs

( Daughter: Isabella Astel | 4 | F )

Personality: Though once best described as impulsive and indulgent, Abel has thankfully mellowed out quite a bit over the years — recent years, in particular. Ironically enough, given his general appearance and the way he tends to conduct himself, many tend to mistake him for someone much older than he actually is. He certainly would describe himself as an old man, weary and tired from mistakes past and desperate to build something for himself. To his credit, he has somewhat managed to turn a new leaf over the past year or so, and things are looking up for him for the first time in forever. Now, he's holding onto that change white-knuckled, determined not to let go. He's figured himself out enough to know when he's about to do something stupid for the most part, and has worked to build replacement habits and ways to distract himself. Routine is his friend and savior, and to this day, he doesn't deal well with surprises.

As far as first impressions go, the Abel of today is outwardly a calm and collected man, who tries his best to think before he acts or speaks, even if it means several awkward moments spent in silent contemplation. He has a sense of humour, always has, though it's gotten quite self-deprecating as of late. He considers that a good thing; he used to get very worked up when insulted, feeling his pride was wounded, but nowadays he welcomes slights and laughs along. There are worse things in life than being insulted, he would know. He's curious about technology in particular, and loves a chance to fix or build something with his hands; it's cathartic as hell.

However, it should be noted that while he somewhat has himself under control on a normal day, he hasn't been under extreme duress for a while, and fears he might resort to his old ways if push came to shove. Impulsivity is still part of him, after all. And while he hasn't been with his daughter for all that long, he knows he already feels protective enough over her that it startles him at times. And while getting violent to protect someone is quite different from getting violent to prove a point or while giving in to anger, it's not many steps removed, and he'd rather not go down that path at all, anymore.

All in all, he might not be a good person, but he is trying to be a better one, at least.

Phobias/Fears: Hurting people he cares about, alcohol relapse, losing control, growing old, ommetaphobia (specifically injury to/touching of eyes in general, and the feeling of being watched), being alone with his thoughts

History: If you were to ask Abel about his life so far, he'd describe it as one bad decision after another, starting from his choice of friends in high school all the way to a poor investment decision earlier this very year. He's always been the type of person to follow his urges and live in the moment, with little regard for his future — and, now that he's living in said future, he wishes he could go back and start over.

Abel's teenage years and early adulthood were marked by many vices, but while some he could leave behind over the years, alcohol always stuck with him in particular. It was what he turned to whenever life was too tough, even though he hated who he became while under the influence. It took what little inhibitions he had, and that led to many a fight with strangers and friends alike. Even sending a friend to the hospital — or being sent there in turn by an armed bar patron he didn't even know — didn't quite manage to make him quit.

Things weren't much calmer back home. In his mid twenties, he got into a long time relationship with a girl called Janette, who shared his short temper. Shouting matches were had, furniture was broken, and they seemed all around like bouncing boards for each others' bad habits, contributing to a common downward spiral.

That was, until Janette got pregnant. Abel wishes he could claim his first reaction upon hearing the news was positive, but truth is, he was terrified. He didn't feel ready for the responsibility, and he assumed Jane didn't, either. Turned out he was wrong; while he was shaking in his boots, Jane put her life in order. She stepped up to become a mother for a child neither of them had meant to have, and watching her, Abel eventually swore to man up and do the same. And indeed, for a while, as they waited for their daughter's birth, things were stable, at the very least. They were building something; a home, a life, a family. Abel felt ready.

He was not ready. The sleepless nights, the stress, the financial distress, it all overwhelmed him in no time at all — and so, he turned back to old vices. Namely, the bottle. And, realizing what sort of person he might once again become as a result, he left before his daughter's first birthday, figuring it would be better for the two. His presence would add little to their family but volatility and, god forbid, danger. It was one of the hardest decisions he made, and to this day he's unsure if it was also the worst, or the best. He didn't get to see Isabella grow up. She didn't have to see her deadbeat of a father mess up her life.

Even when Abel finally managed to fight his way into sobriety again, jolted by the realization that he was getting older by the day and should've been able to leave the insanity of his twenties behind if he ever wanted to make something out of his life, he didn't dare contact his previous family again.

Until a few months ago.

Abel received a call that Jane had been in an accident, and though her condition was stable, caring for a toddler on her own would be extremely difficult. If Abel ever wanted a second chance at being a father, now was the time, and he'd better not fuck it up, was the gist of what he was told.

And so, he made what he hoped was a good decision, and decided to try.

Skills:

Physical prowess | Whenever Abel has managed to hold a job for any substantial amount of time, it's always been physical. Mostly construction, but he hasn't exactly been picky. That, along with his naturally large frame, means he's well suited for physical challenges.

Technology / IT | Abel knows his way around technology, and becoming a software developer is a longtime dream of his. He's never actually worked a job in IT before, but he's dabbled on his own time. It's one of the few things that has managed to hold his interest and keep his mind from wandering to unpleasant things.

Fighter | While he's certainly not proud of it, Abel's been in his fair share of fights, and usually come out on top. He'd... rather not go back to that sort of thing anymore, but he hasn't quite managed to shake off the reflexes or the paranoia, and does carry a knife with him to this day. Just in case.

In addition, while not exactly a skill, Abel absolutely loves dogs, and though one would be forgiven for assuming otherwise, they generally tend to like (and listen to) him too. No, he doesn't feel like he deserves it either.

Inventory:

↦ Lighter (but notably, no cigarettes to accompany it; progress)
↦ wallet (with his id, a picture of his daughter, some cash and a few stamp cards)
↦ doggy treats (a must, just in case)
↦ pack of nicotine gum
↦ a pack of regular gum too, in fact
↦ switchblade
↦ car keys
↦ cellphone
↦ water bottle