Rebels & Mutineers is set in modern day New Orleans, Louisiana. R&M is fueled by player's plots and group input.
Supernatural people have always had their place in society, hidden in plain sight or locked away for their own protection. New Orleans, a haven for the strange and mysterious and a magnet for the supernatural.
Established: Oct. 27th, 2018 Recently Updated Posts && Recently Updated Threads
05.11.19
As the community reels from the untimely death of Lucia Lovelle, life has to move on. Primrose readies for the annual Prom celebration! Keep your eye out for a event board and have fun!
02.27.19
It's not too late to vote for February's OTM winners! The winners for January, keep an eye out on your messages for your winner's graphics for your signature. Already voted? Make sure you check out the Mardi Gras event board! Party up, have a good time, and enjoy!
Post by Benjamin Townsend on Dec 16, 2018 3:57:06 GMT
at most I'm sleeping all these demons away
His breaths came raggedly.
His heart beat erratically.
Panic clutched at his chest and threatened to make him vomit with every step.
He couldn’t stop though. He couldn’t bear to look at the horrid wraiths that looked at him. Their accusing faces, their looks of utter agony. He refused to and so he had no choice but to keep running. No matter how fast his legs pumped or what direction he fled he simply could not escape. In the forest of bone and sinew, there was nowhere for Benjamin Townsend to hide. Everywhere he looked was a towering oak forged from yellow-white bone. Malformed flesh jutted from the nightmarish flora and thick, brown ichor bubbled forth from the cracks in the calcified bark.
It was not the trees that blotted out the sky that truly terrified the young man. No, it was the ashen faces that peered at him, immobilized by the arbors that had once been their bodies. Bits of what they had been served as morbid reminders of their identity.
Locks of purple hair,
A look of fury and betrayal,
A countenance which could not decide on a single face,
Big blue eyes…
He could taste the bile biting at his throat and feel his own scream forming. There had to be a way out. There had to be an escape. That was it. That was the answer. It was easy. Just escape. His boots pounded against the ground, splattering the putrid lifeblood of the trees about him. He was good at escaping, right? He’d made it out once. He’d managed to slip the noose that was Monroeville and make it into a forest just like this. He was alone then too. No, he wasn’t alone now. Those faces, they were people, they were his fr-
“No,” the word was a desperate plea. He couldn’t acknowledge it, not verbally. If he did that made it true. That made all of this true. If he fought, fought against it with all of his might he could fix it. He could make this better. He could save them. He knew, deep in his furiously beating heart, he knew the truth. There was no fixing it. Bodies mangled nearly beyond recognition there was nothing he could do to save them. His gift had done this but there was no way it could undo the damage it had wrought.
He knew it was a nightmare. He always knew. They were his most guarded secret and his crucible to pass on his own. Waking was no simple feat though. He was caught by the lucid night terrors and even if he were to wake up there guarantee the nightmare would stop. Visions of haunting creatures and mutilated innocents would simply bombard his sight while he laid their motionless. At least while he dreamed he could run. It was better than being forced to acknowledge the truth.
He felt himself growing tired. Benjamin had run for what felt like hours and his legs threatened to give out on him. He squinted his eyes and struggled to push through the pain. That was a mistake. Pain wracked his head as he collided with a low hanging branch. A loud crack resonated in the silent glen and Ben fell backward tasting blood. He opened his eyes to find the furious face of an older man glowering at him. Ben bit back a sob and he scrambled back through the muck. His back met another tree and despair finally set in. He curled into a ball, refusing to meet the sight of the disciplinary figure and openly wept.
How could he have been so brave in the day? So inanely bold that it was foolhardy? That too was his secret. He simply spent every night so afraid he simply could not muster any fear in the day. Benjamin rocked to and fro, desperately awaiting the nightmare to run its course so he might face it once more in the waking world. Eventually, he’d be free of it. At least, for a time. Another would come and the process would repeat all over again.
Post by Aisling Maeve Donoghue on Dec 26, 2018 2:30:30 GMT
Darkness.
It was all-consuming. It was the one thing in the world that no one could ever escape; no matter how much you ran, you couldn’t outrun blackness at your back.
There was a reason that it was so much easier to fall into the nightmares of someone’s mind than it was to reach their dreams. Admittedly, all dreams turned to ash in the wake of the dream manipulator. Her ability was, for the most part, left unchecked. The minds that she entered were unpredictable and rarely did her subconscious seek out the same head more than once. The deepest fears of a person were unlocked when Aisling was in their head and it seemed that tonight was no different. It was an unfamiliar mind, an unfamiliar vision, and she had no control of her presence here. If she did, she would have been curled up with Jaxon at Phalanx instead of in this place, this terrifying visage out of the mind of someone who had to be pretty fucked up.
Porous, white rods jutted up from the ground, decorated with stringy pink and red branches. No, that wasn’t right. Booted feet carried her closer to the forest. Reaching a hand out, her fingers brushed over what appeared to be a tree. Aisling knew the feeling of this and it was far from any type of tree, though admittedly it could have passed for a ghost gum tree, were it not for what was dripping from the branches.
Tendons hung loosely from bones; bones that towered far higher than what they should have.
Staggering backward, she inhaled sharply, wide eyes flying upward and suddenly realizing that she was no longer at the edge of the forest, but stationed within. It was difficult to remind herself that these nightmares, while not solely her own doing, were made worse because of her presence within them. It was a stark reminder that a forest of bone and sinew was likely the least of the issues for whoever this mind belonged to. Her eyes turned, searching for a clue of what direction might lead her out of this, some sort of sign that there was a direction in which she needed to go.
But there was none.
Knowing that things would only get worse the longer that she stayed put, Aisling forced herself to move. She wasn’t running, that was going to take up more energy than what she was currently willing to exercise. There was no doubt that she was going to need some of this later, if this particular nightmare was any indication of the possibilities to come.
Around the bone she weaved, like a wraith through the darkness.
Whoever these visions belonged to was able to conjure things that even Aisling had not considered. The forest seemed to groan in agony, a sound that bespoke of true pain. Her heart ached at the sound, but still she pushed onward, carefully navigating over piles of bones that had been discarded.
Forgotten.
A pool of ichor splashed as she stepped into it, unwilling to stop her movements as she sought out someone. That was how these things worked. She had to find the owner of the nightmare in order to get herself out of them. It sounded like a task that was simple enough, but getting out was never the same way. Sometimes she needed only to touch them in order to leave, but others required problem-solving and a serious amount of concentration. Sometimes she wouldn’t be able to leave until they woke up. It was another reminder that Aisling needed to garner more control over her ability. She didn’t want to only be able to control horror.
The sound of wracked sobs drew her attention, eyes searching through the black until things lightened enough for her to be able to make out a figure. Cautious steps surged her forward, ducking sinewy strands as she approached the curled up form. ”Hello?” It was a single word, but Aisling hoped it would be enough for her to draw him from his torment. Maybe facing this nightmare with someone else would make it easier, but even as the thought entered her mind, Aisling doubted its merit.
Post by Benjamin Townsend on Dec 29, 2018 5:41:34 GMT
at most I'm sleeping all these demons away
Bone writhed beneath Ben's flesh as he rocked back and forth. Fear summoned his power and the primal desire to survive and endure formed it. Bony plates sprouted from his dorsal position, coating the vulnerable exterior of the ball he had formed with his body with organic armor. It rattled and clanked against itself disguising the footsteps that approached him.
Benjamin's breath caught in his throat as he heard a voice calling out to him. The voice of a stranger, their timbre filled with concern. Ben hiccuped as he tried to reign in his sobs, raising his head to meet the gaze. Bone clanged against bone with the movement and tears blurred his vision as he halfheartedly attempted to wipe away the obstruction with his sleeve. The woman before him, true to her voice, was a complete stranger. She was not one of the usual demons that lurked in his dreams. Warily, he regarded her, eyes soaking up her appearance.
"Wh-," Ben stopped, clearing his throat which was now hoarse from his moans. "What?" he asked. Ben remained curled into the defensive posture. His dreams had fooled him before. Lulled him into a false sense of security before pulling him further into their depths. A sense of urgency replaced his confusion. Finding the appearance of an apparition not actively seeking to harm him set him on edge. He'd been so taken back that he hadn't heard her words. Simply that something was said.
In the waking world, Ben would have reacted in a volatile manner to this perceived intrusion. No one had seen him in such a state in years no one save his sister. He refuted the true extent of his ailment and the terror it wrought on him. It was his burden to carry. There was no intrusion, there was no stranger. Just his subconscious torturing him as it frequently did. He wiped at his face again and took a steadying breath.
He was in no position to flee and he was too tired to fight. All he could do was wait for the woman to change. "Whatever you are just hurry up and do whatever you're here to do. Get it over with so I can just wake up. Please, I just want to wake up."
Lucid dreaming, some people constantly sought out the skill. Ben saw it as a curse delivered on to him by his mental malady. He thought his nights might have passed better if he couldn't differentiate them from reality if he didn't remember them in vivid, gruesome detail. As aware as he was he could not differentiate that the woman did not fit the aesthetic of the dream. Besides, who had ever heard of a stranger invading someone's dream?
Post by Aisling Maeve Donoghue on Jan 10, 2019 1:03:07 GMT
Traversing through the mind of another wasn’t as easy as what it should have been. The truth of the matter was that it took an intense amount of concentration to be able to remain lucid, even if she happened to be in a mind that wasn’t her own. The lucidity allowed her to navigate the nightmares, to figure her way through them until she came out at the other end. Very rarely was she thrust from the throes of a nightmare, instead having found that it was much more common to have to seek out the sole person and traverse the maze of their mind with them. Handling a nightmare in itself was one thing, but her presence within them offered an unfavorable alteration. What might have started as timid fears would twist to something unrecognizable, bringing forth the fears of the subconscious mind and amplifying them until you didn’t think that you would be able to see the light of day again.
The state that she had found the creator of this world in was not unusual. Fear wracked his body and forced him into a position of submission. It was that vulnerability that called to her ability like a siren song, knowing that the more vulnerable a person was, the more she could twist their nightmares. For the most part, it happened without her consent. Monroeville had not allowed her the necessary time or equipment to be able to hone her ability. The medication did little to subdue her anxious mind and only saw that she slipped from her person more than what she should have been able to. Instead of learning control, Aisling’s ability fell into disarray and now, a year later, she was only just starting to be able to influence nightmares the way that she wanted to, attempting to steer them towards dreams instead.
He met her eyes and that was enough to alert her to the fact that she got through to him. Carefully stepping over additional puddles and piles of bone, she found herself steering closer to him. He was wary of her, which seemed like the most rational response in regards to what his mind had conjured up. It was among the worse visions she had stepped into, but it was something that Aisling felt confident that they could escape. At least this time. Unfortunately, she couldn’t take away this kind of horror forever, but she could try for now. ”You need to get up.” It wasn’t a request, but a statement as she regarded him from a much closer position. The bones that protruded from him and acted as armor allowed her to imagine what sort of ability he might have had - though the forest they were immersed in lent itself to that, as well.
Tilting her head to the side, Aisling blinked slowly at him. ”I’m here to get you through this mess. You’re not going to wake up if you continue to sit here and blubber.” It was harsh, but something told her that being soft wasn’t going to make him move any faster. Holding her hand out for him to take, she waited. ”We need to get moving. They’re coming.”
