 |
This article is a stub. You can help Sunless Skies Wiki by expanding it. |
| Lowered into the Mists | |
|---|---|
 | |
| Category | Story Event |
| Type | Story |
| Data ID | 294604 |
Lowered into the Mists is a Sunless Skies Story Event.
The Bureau of Entertainment storyline[]
Story description[]
Nothing about this is terrifying. Not the rickety fishbowl you've been installed inside. Not the jerky descent into the fog, the cottony silence. Not even the way no one in the Bureau of Entertainments promised you'll be fine at the end of your sojourn.
Trigger conditions[]
Area: Limbo
Frequency: Always (100%)
Interactions[]
| Actions | Requirements | Effects | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Signal to go lower
Two tugs of the tasselled red rope and you begin to descend.
|
|
The Mists seem almost bilious the further you go, enraged by your encroachment. It churns and swirls, making faces or what something that has never had a body might believe to be faces. Eyes bloom like so many flowers, accompanied by swirls of teeth and tongue. It's all illusion, of course. A trick of the cognition.
Maybe.
|
|
| Signal to go still lower
Another tug on the rope. You go deeper.
|
|
As you plunge further into the Mists, the phantasms acquire more solidity: serpentine bodies, piscine forms. Now, it is an entire ecosystem of them, ouroborosian and hungry and indifferent. Now, they are the faces of those who'd forgotten. Now, they're bodies, teeming with coral and glittering beetles. Now, they're watching you and they are smiling, baby teeth bared between feathered antennae.
|
|
| Signal to be lowered into the very depths
One more tug. You're almost there.
|
|
The Mists become a chiaroscuro of hard shadows, halogen and ink. The writhing halts. Almost, it feels as though the Mists might be holding its breath, might be waiting, might be watching you.
Or perhaps, they're watching something else. Something taps on the fishbowl of the vehicle: a barbed tendril wider than a grown man is tall. It explores the seams of your transportation, even as an eye, swollen and crimson and colossal, flashes briefly into view.
In the Depths
|
|
| Abandon the descent for now
You've had enough of this nightmare.
|
|
You crawl out of the vehicle, desperate for a gasp of that foul Worlebury-juxta-Mare air. These representatives from the Bureau of Entertainment, shabbier than so many of their colleagues, shake their head in clear disapproval. "The Toymaker won't be happy," confides a woman with slick, black hair and a slick, white smile.
The Bureau of Entertainments
|
Game note: You will be able to return, but you will have to go through the descent again.
|
Links[]
Links In[]
Links Out[]
In the Depths, The Bureau of Entertainments
| Lowered into the Mists | |
|---|---|
| Category | Story Event |
| Type | Story |
| Data ID | 294611 |
The Cult storyline[]
Story description[]
"Conspiring with the Cult(Mists)"
Trigger conditions[]
Area: Limbo
Frequency: Always (100%)
Interactions[]
| Actions | Requirements | Effects | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Prepare to meet the Scorn Fluke
You march to the circle of waiting cultists.
|
|
In silence, you are tethered not to ropes, but to filaments of green leather. Your wrists, your ankles, the joints of your arms and legs. These are lovingly encircled. It is surprisingly painless, even comfortable. The Bedraggled Parson himself fits a noose about your throat, his eyes hot with worship.
Somewhere, far from you, you can almost hear weeping. Thus secured, you grasp the signal cord and nod to the cultists. You are rolled over the edge and lowered into the mists.
|
|
| Signal to go lower
You bounce your left wrist twice. The ropes slacken and you plunge with terrifying speed.
|
|
The Mists seem almost bilious the further you go, enraged by your encroachment. It churns and swirls, making faces or what something that has never had a body might believe to be faces. Eyes bloom like so many flowers, accompanied by swirls of teeth and tongue. It's all illusion, of course. A trick of the cognition.
Maybe.
|
|
| Signal to go still lower
Another quick tug on the rope. You go deeper.
|
|
As you plunge further into the Mists, the phantasms acquire more solidity: serpentine bodies, piscine forms. Now, it is an entire ecosystem of them, ouroborosian and hungry and indifferent. Now, they are the faces of those who'd forgotten. Now, they're bodies, teeming with coral and glittering beetles. Now, they're watching you and they are smiling, baby teeth bared between feathered antennae.
|
|
| Signal to be lowered into the very depths
One more tug. You're almost there.
|
|
The Mists become a chiaroscuro of hard shadows, halogen and ink. The writhing halts. Almost, it feels as though the Mists might be holding its breath, might be waiting, might be watching you.
Or perhaps, they're watching something else. Something brushes against you: a barbed tendril wider than a grown man is tall. It explores the filaments holding you, touches them softly, even as an eye, swollen and crimson and colossal, flashes briefly into view.
Into the Mists
|
|
| Abandon the descent for now
Forget that. You've had enough of this nightmare.
|
|
The cultists regard you expectantly, half-smiles worn on their faintly nacreous faces. "Well," demands one. "Did you do it?" asks another, a sweet-looking woman with curly grey hair.
When you shake your head, they shrug, clearly indifferent to your lack of success. "Chin up. Always next time."
The Church of They Who Must Grieve
|
Game note: You will be able to return, but you will have to go through the descent again.
|
Links[]
Links In[]
The Church of They Who Must Grieve
Links Out[]
Into the Mists, The Church of They Who Must Grieve
Template:Navbox story events