Phantasmal Rift Mods (
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DUNGEON LOG: AMESTA FOREST
Hello everyone!
Up and the others think that we have enough stabilizers ready for the next expedition! We're going to the forest to the south this time, but it shouldn't be too far for anyone to walk. If you're REALLY going to complain, you can talk to Top on the roof and catch a ride on one of the drones like before.
The scenery's really nice, but there's definitely some kind of magical effect going on in there - as far as we can tell, the day doesn't progress inside the forest. It's stuck a little while after sunset - probably when the Fissure first appeared? (°ヘ°)
Be careful out there! Don't be afraid to call for help if you need it and we'll send a drone your way! o(^▽^)o And Strange says no stupid stunts this time, got it? (;¬д¬)
You'll probably see a big tree on your way there, before you're under the cover of the forest! That's the Infinity Tree, it's a really big willow. Charm can probably tell you more about the mythology if you're interested. He's gonna meet you guys there at the end of the expedition, so try to work your way in that direction as you go!
(。・ω・。)ノ See you when you get back!
After Down's message, characters will find things set up much the way they were last time on the roof. Top is making last-minute adjustments to the drones, and there's tables with food and medical supplies set out - the latter a little sparse compared to last time, so hopefully you kept your first aid kits from before. The table of stabilizers, on the other hand, is much more full.
On your way, you might also see some of what the construction drones have been putting together so noisily these last few days - there's the metal shell of a building, similar to but smaller than the Station, to the immediate west, just off your path to the forest in the distance. Nothing much indicates its function as of yet, though there are significantly more windows.
To the southwest stretches the border of Amesta Forest - about a mile distant, though still easily within sight. As promised, the Infinity Tree sticks up from the far edge, easily visible for those who need a landmark either now or later in the dungeon. If you get lost, you can probably find your way up a tree somewhere to get a perspective on it, and which direction to head in.
The silver mist doesn't begin until some distance into the forest, the time of day gradually changing to the eternal twilight mentioned as you approach the boundary of the Fissure itself. There's no distinct border, just a slow shading towards late afternoon and then sunset while the mist increases around you.
And as the mist wraps around you, and exhaustion you might have felt from the walk out here starts to evaporate... You've well and truly arrived, now. Better keep your eyes open.
Up and the others think that we have enough stabilizers ready for the next expedition! We're going to the forest to the south this time, but it shouldn't be too far for anyone to walk. If you're REALLY going to complain, you can talk to Top on the roof and catch a ride on one of the drones like before.
The scenery's really nice, but there's definitely some kind of magical effect going on in there - as far as we can tell, the day doesn't progress inside the forest. It's stuck a little while after sunset - probably when the Fissure first appeared? (°ヘ°)
Be careful out there! Don't be afraid to call for help if you need it and we'll send a drone your way! o(^▽^)o And Strange says no stupid stunts this time, got it? (;¬д¬)
You'll probably see a big tree on your way there, before you're under the cover of the forest! That's the Infinity Tree, it's a really big willow. Charm can probably tell you more about the mythology if you're interested. He's gonna meet you guys there at the end of the expedition, so try to work your way in that direction as you go!
(。・ω・。)ノ See you when you get back!
After Down's message, characters will find things set up much the way they were last time on the roof. Top is making last-minute adjustments to the drones, and there's tables with food and medical supplies set out - the latter a little sparse compared to last time, so hopefully you kept your first aid kits from before. The table of stabilizers, on the other hand, is much more full.
On your way, you might also see some of what the construction drones have been putting together so noisily these last few days - there's the metal shell of a building, similar to but smaller than the Station, to the immediate west, just off your path to the forest in the distance. Nothing much indicates its function as of yet, though there are significantly more windows.
To the southwest stretches the border of Amesta Forest - about a mile distant, though still easily within sight. As promised, the Infinity Tree sticks up from the far edge, easily visible for those who need a landmark either now or later in the dungeon. If you get lost, you can probably find your way up a tree somewhere to get a perspective on it, and which direction to head in.
The silver mist doesn't begin until some distance into the forest, the time of day gradually changing to the eternal twilight mentioned as you approach the boundary of the Fissure itself. There's no distinct border, just a slow shading towards late afternoon and then sunset while the mist increases around you.
And as the mist wraps around you, and exhaustion you might have felt from the walk out here starts to evaporate... You've well and truly arrived, now. Better keep your eyes open.
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Woooooow, look at all these! That one's as big as I am!
[Like a busy bee himself, Prompto's flitting around with his camera to capture all the life and color here. It's a nice change from the monotony of the forest's fringes; what mist lingers here just gives everything an ethereal, dreamy quality without being quite so spooky.
After giving a giant bee a wide, wide berth, Prompto leans in to sniff at a yellow starburst of a chrysanthemum the size of his head.]
Aw, man, we should take some of these back to the station. If we pressed them, we could give the place some more color, you know? Besides just the garden.
April 15th | Infinity Tree: Roots (edge of the lake)
WARNINGS: FFXV spoilers, body horror, human experimentation, child experimentation, child soldiers, psychological torment, fuckface
[The first sign that none of this is real is that the wind doesn't disperse the mist. The snow isn't cold, either, but it reduces visibility to practically nothing. Entering this dream, one could feel they're the only person in a very small world of howling, mindless white.
Except that, lumbering onward through the storm, dark shapes take shape suddenly where there was nothing before.
Some are motionless heaps to trip over, and reveal themselves to be something like robots, frozen and dim-eyed. Only some are missing parts: black miasma wafts out of a charred hole in one's stomach; another shows freckles and a soft mouth through the broken lower half of its faceplate before that, too, evaporates into oily smoke. The worst is one whose entire metal limb has been torn off. A child's arm dangles limply out of the sparking hole, mottled with dark, unnatural color and surgical scars.
They vanish after a first glance, but the presence of something terrible lingers like a shadow over the snow.
Further in, pushing against the wind, that awful weight only increases, but now it's coming from the rear--it gives chase, and it wants to kill. The Roots' floating effect doesn't seem to apply to this dream, and however one tries to make any headway, moon-jumping this way or that, the dark figure's darting past like a bullet, narrowly missing every time. Stumble, and he'll be on you as soon as you turn, engine blade raised high, face twisted in a snarl.
In this dream, his eyes are very, very blue.
Escaping him leads to an area where ice begins to give way to sections of chrome, metal, and cement. Glass here. Iron bars there. A free-standing circular door that opens from the middle with a hiss, lucky you. All the while, someone is laughing and crooning something indistinct, crackling through an intercom invisible in the snow and dark prison walls, inescapable and cruel. No words can be made out, but the voice sounds awfully like Izunia's.
There are large glass tubes around, too, filled with fluid. Some are otherwise empty. Some hold tiny, tiny children. Some hold young men, eyes closed as if in sleep. They would look a lot like Prompto except that parts of them are clearly rotting away in blacks and purples--their legs, their chests, half their faces. They dissolve quickly into liquid clouds, siphoned away by other wires and tubes to places unknown.
But eventually, where Amesta's trees and even the oppressive grey walls of the facility give way to something darker and more sinister, there's Prompto--the real Prompto, not a diseased dream reflection of himself shut up in a tube--aiming his gun at the back of a figure one immediately knows they don't want to turn around, that will be made of nightmares once he turns.
Except that the longer he doesn't turn, the closer he steps to the dream of Noctis, no longer armed, shackled to a strange metal cross plugged into wires that glow like crystal, struggling and crying out to get free.
The snow wasn't real. But Prompto's gun is frozen over in his shaking hands and his breath plumes out white in the dark, dingy prison. He takes a deep breath and shouts in a breaking voice:]
Leave him alone!
[And the voice that sounds like Izunia's laughs as if at a play while the figure turns, and it's Prompto, half-eroded by Starscourge, wearing Chief Researcher Verstael Besithia's high-collared Imperial armor.
Without transition, nightmare Prompto is in Prompto's face, grabbing the collar of his jacket with a sneer.]
I ought to return you whence you came...
[Prompto's response is to choke down a scream and try to shoot, but the gun's trigger is frozen solid, and his knees give out as fear and magical stasis combine.]
April 16th | Silvermist Hollow
[After withdrawing from that fun adventure, Prompto can be found recuperating in the less abjectly horrible, somewhat more restful stretch of Silvermist Hollow. He's not sleeping--he's got no intention of sleeping ever again, really--but there's a flock of shhhhhhhheep grazing nearby that he's just watching listlessly.
One of the hush shepherds has detached itself from the flock and is nosing carefully at him, letting him pet it absently. There's no sound here, and while normally that'd be eerie, Prompto can't actually bring himself to be scared.
If he sees someone, he'll lift a hand and wave with a shaky, feeble smile.]
shhhhhhollow
Well this was a good place to stop. I'm thinking we're getting close to done.
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Does it seem to you like we're almost done?
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sorry i think something here turns the sound off! My bad Aya (^~^;)ゞ
[Nothing to worry about, though, right?]
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That's inconvenient, but not unexpected given what my dreams have had in them...
It seems to me like we're almost done though, so here's hoping whatever that is backs off.
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april 15
Prompto.
[ He breathes it more than speaks it. It hadn't taken long for him to make the connection; he'd just found Prompto in a blizzard like this not that long ago. It chills Noctis to the bone; what's got Prompto so wound up, wound up so tight he might snap at the smallest nudge? Noctis can't tell, and he has no idea.
He knows that he needs to find Prompto, that's all. It's a thought that repeats itself over and over in his mind, a chant, a prayer, a desperate whisper that soon turns into a deafening roar. He can ask questions later, wonder about all of this later. Prompto comes first. ]
Prompto!
[ He yells out his best friend's name, heart thudding in his chest, so hard Noctis thinks it might be audible. He pushes onward, and-- ]
Wh-- What the hell?
[ It's the mouth that gets him to pause. The mouth that looks so much like Prompto's; Noctis's heart leaps up into his throat, and he staggers, like the world is falling out beneath him. This is bad. It's bad, worse than bad, and he hasn't found Prompto yet. If he fails Prompto, the single most important person here-- who the hell is he?
... A nightmare, if the image of himself is anything to go by. Noctis yells out and raises his arms, his mind too scrambled and racing too fast for him to pull anything out of his damn Armiger. He pushes onward. Pushes as hard as he can--
The voice echoes, echoes like in his nightmares. Noctis stumbles, stiffens, and he covers his ears. Nothing else matters; it passes in a blur. He's panicking now, breath coming out in ragged gasps, his thoughts racing, one word repeating over and over again--
Prompto, Prompto, Prompto, PromptoPromptoPrompto--
He halts, his voice cutting through everything. Noctis lets out a yell and goes to him, his father's sword appearing in his hand. But he falters--the nightmare Prompto is wearing Prompto's face. He can't-- raising his sword to him is painful, and he trembles. ]
Let him go!
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It realigns again with the other Noctis, the dream Noctis, suddenly gone, replaced with the chained specter of the Crystal looming even larger than it had in life, as if it had been there all along--as if it and the trappings of the First Magitek Production Facility are interchangeable. Prompto's palms smack the ground when Verstael-Prompto lets him fall, and the nightmare straightens and steps past the real thing with a certain chancellor's jaunty sway.]
Noct...
[It's Prompto's own voice drawing the nickname out; it's Prompto's voice, but distorted and malicious, like he's been waiting thirty years to get his hands on such a perfect specimen.]
Oh, Noct, you came. Just like I knew you would. You sound like a real king now, you know? You wouldn't let a little old thing like me keep you from your destiny, right? It's the king's duty, you're such a good guy you'd never say no--
[Unseen at his double's back, Prompto lurches clumsily to his feet takes a running charge at the advancing nightmare. With a wordless cry, he gets his arm around around the thing's throat, yanks them both back down to the ground, gets one leg over it, locks his arm under its chin, twists--
His limbs go right through as the thing that wasn't Prompto melts into mist, leaving Prompto--the real Prompto--to stagger hurriedly to his feet again and fall as much as run towards Noctis. Frantically, Prompto pushes him away from the Crystal before his strength evaporates again and he's left sobbing, crumbling to his knees.]
Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Noct, I didn't mean it, please don't go...
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You sound like a real king now, you know?
Prompto had said that to him, after they'd found him.
Noctis hadn't realized it had torn him apart. He stumbles, dumbstruck, before he pitches forward and drops to his own knees. ]
Prompto--
[ And he's pulling Prompto close, holding him tight, hoping he can serve as an anchor for his best friend. He holds him against his chest, heart beating fast, and he hides his face in Prompto's hair. ]
It's okay-- It's okay, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, I swear.
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[The nightmare, he means. Or maybe he means all of it, the nightmare that's their reality, that being here only puts off. Noct's already wandered into his dream of snow once before in this place. How much of this is a recurring nightmare, trauma he hasn't been able to process for months, and how much is just the world they live in?
Prompto clings to Noctis like he's the only thing keeping him from falling, even though he's already hit his knees on the ground.]
I'm sorry, I didn't want... I don't want you to see this...
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Why? Prompto, you-- How did you think I was gonna react to this?
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sneepies
He's gone back to the black coat, which makes his blue scarf more prominent, and equally prominent is a bruise on his jaw, a day or two old at this point but still tender-looking. He comes over for the moment and just... sits, because if there's one thing he's learned about Prompto it's that he does best allowed to go at his own pace.]
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What happened to your face? (゜。゜)
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Brotherly love.
[It's hopefully clue enough without, you know, making Prompto freak out. Hopefully the joking tone will help?
That done, he pulls his sketchbook out, too, levelling it across his knee.]
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He also doesn't answer. Or look at Izunia's face. Even after he sits there a while, stroking the shepherd's fur, all he ends up able to do is turn his head to look at whatever Izunia's drawing now.]
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Ah, and a scarf. Well, you can't really be surprised by that, can you, Prompto?
Eventually, he reaches for his phone again, typing before letting it sit on his other knee.]
How are you holding up?
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cw: your standard lucis caelum fratricide warnings
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there's a facepalm icon here in spirit
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1/2
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blossomgale
She's similarly giving those bees one hell of a wide berth and when she finds her way to Prompto's side, it's with a decidedly puzzled expression. ]
Plants do not usually grow to such a size, do they?
[ Then again, in a world like this, who knows what's classed as unusual. ]
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[Snap, snap! And now he has a picture of Violet, too, a bloom among the flowers.]
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Would it be possible to take some back to the station? You would be able to take as many photos of them as you like, whenever you like.
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[He looks around, then smiles encouragingly at Violet.]
Well, which one's your favorite?
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[ Violet just parrots that back, looking a touch baffled. Like the very concept he's suggesting is completely foreign to her. ]
I don't know very much about flowers. [ But then her brow furrows a touch. If he's asking, then it seems a bit rude of her to not give him a real answer. ] Should I choose one based on aesthetic appeal, then?
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Infinity Tree
Of course, a different kind of dread soon creeps in to take its place with the sights that come next. The last of the fallen troopers in particular she almost leans down to try and touch, except that it vanishes before she has the chance, leaving her with nothing but a deep sense of unease.
Still, she presses on. What choice does she have? She can hardly tell which way she came from at this point. The stalking shadow, funnily enough, gives her comparatively little grief, for while its appearance definitely startles her, she's quick to assume a defensive posture, which she maintains while carefully advancing.
It's when the laboratory begins to form around her that her disquiet deepens. The bars that evoke prison cells; that distant voice, familiar yet dripping with wholly alien malice; these are unsettling enough, but when she sees the tubes, more specifically their contents, she's struck with a chill as profound as what all that snow would have inflicted were it real.]
Gods above...
[She can hardly bear to even look at the children, but she approaches one of the cylinders holding an adult, lifting a hand to gingerly touch the glass. Though a glimmer of familiarity sparks in the back of her mind, her attention is stolen by the miasma eating at his body. Once again, she is reminded of the Risen, of that horrible purple smoke that they breathe, that consumes them as they die...
Full recognition doesn't come to her for another few moments — and no sooner has it than the double melts fully into shadow, turning Wren's very blood to ice in her veins. Prompto... She needs to find Prompto. She may not be that close to the man, but if this is the kind of darkness that haunts him, there's no way she can leave him to face it alone.
It's with that thought that she abandons the measured pace she had taken thus far, running through the remaining halls at the greatest speed she's capable of. Finally, she reaches the heart of the nightmare, and the admittedly horrifying image of a crucified Noctis only briefly distracts her from the person she was looking for.
She's about to call out to him when the nightmare Prompto reveals himself, knocking the breath right out of her. Her hand falls to her Thoron tome, she wishes nothing more than to blast the sick duplicate into nothingness, but she suppresses the impulse, not wanting to risk hurting the real one.
For this one moment, she's frozen, and can do nothing but watch.]
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[Prompto's voice shakes as if the nightmare's endless winter is real to him, as if he's as literally frozen as Wren is figuratively. The other Prompto laughs and holds his chin in the other hand, ignoring how he jerks away from the dark wisps stripping away from his arm.]
You are but one of millions, made to make those Lucians miserable, and you think you can stop? You think you can stop this?
[The other Prompto forcibly turns Prompto's head to look at Noctis hanging there on the metal cross just in time for the light to glow stronger around him, beautiful and terrible as the stars. The dream of Noctis cries out, quietly at first and then in agony, face twisting in pain, and Prompto almost chokes on his own horror, clutching at his captor's hands.]
STOP!
[With a surprised hiss, the other Prompto draws back, ice forming around his wrists--or of them, perhaps, since he's made of mist. The real Prompto shoves him entirely aside and runs to the fake Noct, running at him to get him free--
And then falls right through when he and the cross turn out to be nothing but misty figments of his nightmares, too.
The other Prompto, half-eaten by darkness, finally takes notice of Wren. For a second, he hesitates, as if unsure what role he's supposed to be playing; Prompto's nightmares don't usually feature secondary characters. Loneliness is its own terror, after all.
But then further darkness spills out of cracking lines on his face, and if there was ever a time for a good Thunder spell...]
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Hey... It's over now.
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Wh-what's wrong with this place...?
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