Resting Witch Face
breaking the laws of physics medieval style
Blackness all around, stretching out in every direction, swallowing you whole. You can't tell if you're dreaming or suffering from some kind of sleep paralysis, but the result is the same. Unfolding in front of you is a menagerie of abstract colors and shapes, weaving and collecting and falling apart in a enchanting rhythm. You can feel the beat of the rhythm in yourself, in everything around you. Like a heartbeat, strong enough to vibrate your hands. After what feels like hours watching the odd dance, the colors form long lines and begin to root, shaping into a grand tree several thousand times larger than yourself. You can't help but stare.
It is an amazing spectacle, watching this tree contract and expand as if it drew breath, but soon you find that the scene has become darker. Colors dim or turn an unsettling shade of red, and the colorful world around you takes on a menacing hue. The ground beneath you quakes. The roots beat faster. You turn to leave, to escape this descent into madness but something prevents you from leaving. A quick series of desperate tugs reveals that a root has burrowed deep into your arm, snaking it's way through your bicep and into your chest. You can feel it pulsating, and you feel weak. This terrifying psychedelic experience begins to spin, and spin, and spin...
The sound of rushing water wakes you from a deep sleep, and you find yourself soaking wet on the side of a rocky river. Must have washed ashore not too long ago, after a long "swim" downstream. Attempting to get to your feet seems fruitless, so you instead turn your gaze towards your surroundings. A bird's call distracts you, as it flies overhead in a hurry. A doe could be spotted further down the bank, lazily sipping at the water's edge. Dense foliage seems to surround you in every direction, blocking the view unless one were to climb to a vantage point... speaking of which, a peculiar sight enters your vision: a tall stone spire, seemingly attached to a church, sticking out high above the tree-line. It looks somewhat distant, but likely not too far from the river. A good place to check in, at least for some potential refuge. Finally, you manage to pry yourself out of the sand and onto a patch of grass. Despite the warm countryside air, the water soaking your clothes is giving you a deathly chill. It would be smart to dry off, and soon. As you stumble to your feet, two things become apparent: One, you are not alone. What looks like three or four others are also washed up close by, seemingly waking up like you just had. They seem familiar, likely the other mages on the prison wagon. Two, a distinct weight on your left wrist. You look down to discover, to your dismay, that the inhibitor cuffs you had been restrained with had not fully broken off in the accident. One cuff flapped uselessly around as the other held fast, still preventing you from accessing your full potential magic power. It would be a challenge to cast anything with it still attached, but at least it had partially broken off. If it was still on both wrists, you would be unable to cast anything. Guaranteed.
With this in mind, it would be difficult to use your magic to secure your future. Find a way to remove the cuff, whether by destroying it or finding the key. Aside from this first goal survival reigns supreme on your to-do list, which means a steady source of food, water and shelter. With magic, however limited, this should not be hard to accomplish. Finally, the stone building in the distance would be good to remember later, once the all-too identifying cuffs have been removed and you can blend into the general populous again. Wouldn't want anyone there selling you out as a Mage, of course, but perhaps there might be someone there partial to Mages...
It is an amazing spectacle, watching this tree contract and expand as if it drew breath, but soon you find that the scene has become darker. Colors dim or turn an unsettling shade of red, and the colorful world around you takes on a menacing hue. The ground beneath you quakes. The roots beat faster. You turn to leave, to escape this descent into madness but something prevents you from leaving. A quick series of desperate tugs reveals that a root has burrowed deep into your arm, snaking it's way through your bicep and into your chest. You can feel it pulsating, and you feel weak. This terrifying psychedelic experience begins to spin, and spin, and spin...
The sound of rushing water wakes you from a deep sleep, and you find yourself soaking wet on the side of a rocky river. Must have washed ashore not too long ago, after a long "swim" downstream. Attempting to get to your feet seems fruitless, so you instead turn your gaze towards your surroundings. A bird's call distracts you, as it flies overhead in a hurry. A doe could be spotted further down the bank, lazily sipping at the water's edge. Dense foliage seems to surround you in every direction, blocking the view unless one were to climb to a vantage point... speaking of which, a peculiar sight enters your vision: a tall stone spire, seemingly attached to a church, sticking out high above the tree-line. It looks somewhat distant, but likely not too far from the river. A good place to check in, at least for some potential refuge. Finally, you manage to pry yourself out of the sand and onto a patch of grass. Despite the warm countryside air, the water soaking your clothes is giving you a deathly chill. It would be smart to dry off, and soon. As you stumble to your feet, two things become apparent: One, you are not alone. What looks like three or four others are also washed up close by, seemingly waking up like you just had. They seem familiar, likely the other mages on the prison wagon. Two, a distinct weight on your left wrist. You look down to discover, to your dismay, that the inhibitor cuffs you had been restrained with had not fully broken off in the accident. One cuff flapped uselessly around as the other held fast, still preventing you from accessing your full potential magic power. It would be a challenge to cast anything with it still attached, but at least it had partially broken off. If it was still on both wrists, you would be unable to cast anything. Guaranteed.
With this in mind, it would be difficult to use your magic to secure your future. Find a way to remove the cuff, whether by destroying it or finding the key. Aside from this first goal survival reigns supreme on your to-do list, which means a steady source of food, water and shelter. With magic, however limited, this should not be hard to accomplish. Finally, the stone building in the distance would be good to remember later, once the all-too identifying cuffs have been removed and you can blend into the general populous again. Wouldn't want anyone there selling you out as a Mage, of course, but perhaps there might be someone there partial to Mages...