Investigating Gateways
Roleplaying Log: Investigating Gateways
IC Details

Jim Craddock hunts the thing behind the shadow attacks.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: September 29, 2019
IC Location:
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 29 Sep 2019 15:26
Rating & Warnings:
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

While the Demon Bear is no more and things have … settled, there are still wounds and newly formed scars from the Bear's visit.

Take, for instance, the cafe that Raven and Jim Craddock battled at. While it tried to re-open for business the devistation was enough that the little building is completely closed down. A little red and white sign that reads 'for sale' hangs sadly upon the glass door.

So far, in the weeks since that fateful evening, there hasn't been any buyers and the agent who's trying to sell this building just can't understand why.

Perhaps if they had the sight that allows them to see beyond they might realize some of the why, but they don't.

However, for those that do when they look upon that cafe it is just one massive bleeding wound of psychic and magic energy. The shadows that were made into gateways that day are still open. Or partially open and a touch of that winter cold flows into the cafe proper.

Now the question remains is someone brave enough to investigate those shadows.

When it comes to things that can harm or put an end to existences such as himself, then Craddock can't help but find himself invested in finding out more. While certainly being a ghost is not the greatest of positions to be in, the thought of something unknown ending even that is, quite frankly, a terrifying one.

So to the place it all began, or at least the place that he knew things had occured. It's a sad sight, the previous establishment of the coffee shop, and he considers those who can only see its exterior damage lucky for the things they cannot register by the naked eye. His steps make no sound as he walks towards the abandoned structure, and neither does his cane make a tap along the ground it crosses. The figure clad in white from head to foot pauses just before the door, monocle angling towards the sad little sign before looking past it, past the door. What he cannot feel he can definitely sense, especially that unnatural chill that seeps from the hastily mended gateways.

He squares his shoulders.

He takes a step through both doorway and the veil of the living realm.

The Ghost bravely enters the establishment and when he does he steps beyond the veil of the living and into what can only be described as hell.

Or perhaps something close to it, for it's definitely a frozen hell.

The gateways that crisscross the cafe breathe coldly upon the living and non-living realms. While they natural energies of the world have begun to try and heal over the openings, the unnatural magics and energies within actively fight against that healing.

They want to keep those shadowed claws sunk deep within the world that holds so much richness, so many souls.

There's four gateways total, two against one wall and the last two upon the other. Each lead to somewhere, but after a certain distance it's hard to say just where any of those portals end up. One will have to step upon the path to see where they'll end up.

Thankfully, it does seem the monsters that came from the shadows are nowhere to be found. All of the gateways are just empty crossroads right now.

It's not so much those that came from these gashes as it is their origin that concerns him. Those wolf-creatures did not seem natural in the least, and he remembers all too clearly what their claws were capable of while they were still alive.

His hand tightens around the grip of his cane, and he steels himself to continue, closer to the gateways, turning a cautious look across each. Did they all feel the same? Were there any particular traces to be followed, or were they faded off? Or perhaps it didn't matter between them all, a passing thought he entertains only because it's still also a possibility.

If there's nothing distinguishing one from another, he'll select one at random, his free hand coming to the brim of his hat to take hold of it before he walks on through.

They all feel similar.

Cold. Dark. Some type of pathway that leads somewhere.

Those secrets stay tucked away until Jim Craddock takes the decisive action of walking through one of the gateways.

When he does the world shifts even more.

After only a few steps the structure of the cafe fades away. Truly it almost feels as if the world fades away, but it's still there. All one has to do is look over their shoulder to see the pinprick of light that denotes the way out.

Going forward, however, allows the darkness to press all around. From that darkness seconds might feel like minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, but however long it actually is there's very little relief to the darkness that surrounds the ghost.

Until it changes. It's after a particular curve in that pathway that things change.

Light and colors begin to shine and with that illumination it's easy to see the trail itself will eventually end.

Here too one can see the rest of those pathways and they all meet right in the middle and where those roads meet a faint glow might be seen.

It's a rainbow of color and when approached one can see why, there's a myriad of cracks upon what can only be described as the 'ground' and from each fissure a different colored light can be seen.

Time means little to him for how little it affects him. He has nowhere to be and only whatever lies ahead to go to. The Ghost moves on.

It's an unnerving place nevertheless, with nothing around and only what may as well be a distant star in a blanket of vast space back over his shoulder. His head lifts as colors begin to bleed into the atmosphere again, light and all that comes with it. He hums thoughtfully to himself and approaches the source of the light, the lines from which it escapes from.

"What've we here…" he muses as he comes towards the edge of it, pausing only to study the other openings where he can guess other paths come. Turning his attention to the rainbow light filtering through the network of lines on the otherwise undefined ground, he bounces his cane against his palm in consideration, then stoops down, extending a hand and finger to trace the cracks nearest him.

Each light feels differently in some respect.

The red is - ironically - hot.

The blue not so much.

The yellow warmer than the blue, and so on.

At first when Jim runs his hands across the light nothing happens. Not until a few more seconds pass and that's when the red light flares brightly at his next passover. As soon as his fingers connect with the crimson light the smallest of tendrils rise upward from that particular split to try and capture the Ghost's fingers.

If successful they will gleefully tighten upon fingers and hand.

To note, the tendrils likewise burn. There touch is like filaments of cohesive acid, just waiting to enwrap a person and then chew through whatever it touches.

Whatever these things might be they are definitely completely different than the Bear, but somehow the Bear and the ruptures in this plane are tied together.

Funny how habits and expressions from your days of living still hang onto you in death. The sensation is that of one's breath catching in his throat, his gasp cut short by the searing pain that burns along each line of crimson that has wrapped around his gloved hand as it tightens hungrily.

It's reflex to pull back, and so he does with a hiss, little good as it might do. He braces his feet, tucking his cane under his arm to loosen the sheath of the hidden blade within. It falls, and in the next movement he twirls the bared blade, swinging it outward to try slashing through the crimson tendrils.

Craddock is not all that eager to find out what might happen if he delayed in freeing himself, especially if what he experiences now is but a hint.

His blade slices neatly and deftly through the tendrils and with a hiss of their own, the things are cut.

With that chop the tendrils that stay wrapped (loosely now) around fingers and hand cease that burn. In fact, the majority of the color leaches from the bit and each strand turns gray. Upon closer look all the pieces look weirdly like … plants.

Smallish ivy plants to be specific.

The ends of the plant, that are still connected to whatever that lives within the fractured ground, retreats downward. Away from the sharp blade that sundered them so. They retreat and the red light dims slightly in response.

Which is fine, this now allows the other colors to glow brighter. Especially the blue.

Now it's the blue's turn to have movement come from the fractured ground. Only instead of plants what emerges from the ground is something … gooey?

Yes, it definitely gives the impression of raspberry blue jello, as the jiggly little blob rolls out of the ground with a funny little *plomp!*

For a few seconds it might seem unthreatening as it literally just sits there.

It's just a little round blobby-blob. A jigglypuff! A happy little thing that SUDDENLY opens at least twenty EYES. All those EYES focus right on Jim Craddock and as soon as the little jiggly-creature spies the Ghost, something like a zillion (it's a lot!) spider-like legs appear.

It crouches now, eyes focused upon JIm, and it's little jiggly boddy wriggling furiously.

It's just going to jump, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Yes, yes, it is. It's definitely going to leap at Jim.

And while it readies to leap a dozen more sounds of *plomp*! echo up from the blue fissure. Guess the little guy has friends? A lot of them?

Despite the potential peril of the mysterious tendrils, Craddock finds himself fascinated as the cleaved ends around his hand begin to wither. Plants? Curiouser and curiouser.

He pockets the previously offending vines, hoping they'll last, his cane sword still held in defense as he watches the lights shift. As the blue light begins to exhibit movement, he holds the blade's point towards whatever might next trouble him. And then something emerges…

The Gentleman Ghost has no idea what Jello is but the creature is a strange one to be sure. It's only more disturbing for its jiggly disposition, not that the additional eyes and legs make it any better. Blue light gleaming off his monocle, its angle changed but slightly as he glances past it to the masses of similar creatures that bubble up from the surrounding cracks. Well, perhaps he's seen enough here.

With a snap his cane's blade is sheathed once again, and when the jiggly creature makes its leap he is ready for it, his slightly injured hand extending to intercept it. He may be left with more questions than answers, but he's not going to leave empty handed. His cloak swirls around him as he turns and makes his retreat. It seems he's overstayed his welcome.

With vine and jigglypuff in hand (or pocketed) Jim Craddock retraces his steps away.

Which is very very good.

For as the little blobs arrive with their *plomp*! *plomp*! *plomp*! *plomp*! *plomp*! the red light seems to return to itself.

The first creature (that isn't the one Jim grabbed) skitters across the ground, but before it can get too far more of those acidic vines grow out from the ground. They enwrap the little wiggling blue creature and then pull it back into the red light. If the gelatinous thing were crunch a person might have heard a crunch, but it's not. So, instead, the only thing that continues is that *plomp*! of sound and the lash of vines as blobby becomes food to the vines.

It's a very shortened circle of life, but a circle nonetheless.

When Jim returns to the more earthen plane, versus this one, he finds that the vine survived, but the blue blob didn't. What's left is a handful of no-longer-living gel, but it's something. Something that he can potentially take and have analyzed, to see just exactly what might be going on here.

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