by Christopher Wilkins
LARP System: Madrigal, Accelerant
PC name: Remi Girard
Years Larping: 2
Recently, Chris has been looking for a reason to respec his PC, Remi Girard. Currently, Remi is driven by a maniacal pursuit of the Ancient Enemy of the East: the creature responsible for the demise of his crew. However, after a recent interaction with the mad spirits of an ancient grove, Remi is slowly realizing that revenge, as his sole motivation, is corrupting. After considering the dangers of his current path, Remi had this dream. (A note: The Fountain of Ice is an in-game mechanic that, for a price, allows characters to recreate themselves.)
I (Remi), am walking down a wooded path. The trees are dark and thick; their boughs dip towards the earth, full of chattering voices and golden eyes-- eyes split by a black line.
My feet are weary, but I walk on, pushed by unseen hands and voices.
Ahead of me, the path grows ever darker. The trees’ branches bend towards the earth, heaving with invisible burdens. These brances, low to the ground, entangle and entwine themselves. I am caught within them. As I try to pull myself free, I slip-- the path below me has grown wet and slippery with blood.
From behind me, I hear the sounds of tattered sails and shattering hulls. Gulls screech.
I do not look back.
Ahead of me lurk the creatures of the deep: they beckon and taunt me, wailing in deep, unearthly toes.
As I walk, the whispers of the wood taunt my wounded pride. I remember my failure.
My boots are stained with blood, and the vines creep up my thighs. I am heavy.
A sudden cry for aid deep in the wood catches my ear. As if spirited away, my sight leaps from my mind-- fast as the wind, my eyes fly through the forest. Although I am not there, I see a small village, many miles away. This village, set within a clearing, is beset by beasts. These beasts reek of something monstrous and foul.
Walking through the bloody woods, which smells now of iron and sweet-sick decay, I know I must help. I must get to the village.
(As I lift my feet to run, I realize the wood is too thick. My path is already set. Golden-eyed creatures, catlike and mean, laugh at me, urging me to continue ever on. I am struggling to breathe, rooted in this forest.)
Just then springing from the Trees, fleet as stags, armed with spear and bow, streaks of green and gold, white and blue, Gray and red. They run to the village-- the place where I cannot go, mired on my path as I am. These quick-footed figures, they battle the creatures, forcing them away. The village and the people are saved.
My eyes and my sight returns to me: I am still on the darkest path. And down this path? I see something grim.
In its coils and undulations, I feel as though it smiles. A smile maddened by wrath and vengeance.
From the corner of my eyes, I see a figure. Lithe, carrying a bow, it is Argent. She stands by the fountain of Ice. She gestures to me, beckoning me off the path.
Another way reveals itself.
I (Remi), am walking down a wooded path. The trees are dark and thick; their boughs dip towards the earth, full of chattering voices and golden eyes-- eyes split by a black line.
My feet are weary, but I walk on, pushed by unseen hands and voices.
Ahead of me, the path grows ever darker. The trees’ branches bend towards the earth, heaving with invisible burdens. These brances, low to the ground, entangle and entwine themselves. I am caught within them. As I try to pull myself free, I slip-- the path below me has grown wet and slippery with blood.
From behind me, I hear the sounds of tattered sails and shattering hulls. Gulls screech.
I do not look back.
Ahead of me lurk the creatures of the deep: they beckon and taunt me, wailing in deep, unearthly toes.
As I walk, the whispers of the wood taunt my wounded pride. I remember my failure.
My boots are stained with blood, and the vines creep up my thighs. I am heavy.
A sudden cry for aid deep in the wood catches my ear. As if spirited away, my sight leaps from my mind-- fast as the wind, my eyes fly through the forest. Although I am not there, I see a small village, many miles away. This village, set within a clearing, is beset by beasts. These beasts reek of something monstrous and foul.
Walking through the bloody woods, which smells now of iron and sweet-sick decay, I know I must help. I must get to the village.
(As I lift my feet to run, I realize the wood is too thick. My path is already set. Golden-eyed creatures, catlike and mean, laugh at me, urging me to continue ever on. I am struggling to breathe, rooted in this forest.)
Just then springing from the Trees, fleet as stags, armed with spear and bow, streaks of green and gold, white and blue, Gray and red. They run to the village-- the place where I cannot go, mired on my path as I am. These quick-footed figures, they battle the creatures, forcing them away. The village and the people are saved.
My eyes and my sight returns to me: I am still on the darkest path. And down this path? I see something grim.
In its coils and undulations, I feel as though it smiles. A smile maddened by wrath and vengeance.
From the corner of my eyes, I see a figure. Lithe, carrying a bow, it is Argent. She stands by the fountain of Ice. She gestures to me, beckoning me off the path.
Another way reveals itself.
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