Matt Macob (GameDev) · @themattmacob
12th Dec 2015 from TwitLonger
Having Fallen from Heaven
The plants nourished and the animals bathed that day of the heavy rain. The annual precipitation brought up the flowers, grew the moss, and thus created the tranquil atmosphere of The Forest for the rest of the season. In fact, that day the water came down so heavily that along with it was cast down a young heaven-girl, Our Hero.
Brought out of consciousness by the fall, whether that be from fright or impact, she serenely lay on her back in a mossy bed of clovers and daylilies. One small beam of strong, yet distorted illumination peaked through the thunderclouds and protected her place from the harsh side-occurrences of the rainfall. This light’s other magical analogues laundered her intricate silk adornments, polished her oxidized dagger, revealing a dashing blade, woke her from her stilled slumber, and cleared the rain clouds.
Our Hero, awoken with a start, bolted open her eyelids and stiffened her muscles. No more than a heartbeat after, the girl flew to her feet, glimmering dark hair blazing, silk fluttering, and dagger slipping from her hands. Clumsiness that caused the blade to fall could have been clumsiness that caused death, if her situation had been dire enough. Favorably, this fright was caused by the weakness of her underused heart and new reflexes.
Looking around, surveying the space between the crowded trees, Our Hero stilled herself, matted her locks, and replaced the dagger to a sheath she found braced on her left calf. Continuing the survey, she noticed a dirt path between the trees that lead away from her mossy spawn. Although in our eyes the path would appear friendly and lit by hue of the newly-bloomed flowers, her vision was void of all color, leaving a clouded landscape of infinitely desolate trees and low-lying flora.
With no memory or goal, Our Hero decided to follow the path to no extent, that is, until she came across the footprints of an immense animal that also followed the path. Creating a goal to find this creature, Our Hero resumed her wander, but this time with much greater focus on the life around her. She took breaks to smell the flowers, taste the herbs, and study the insects that nourished both. These practices greatly influenced her vision, and gradually, bright pigments decorated the once grayscale portrayal of The Forest. These colors she learned to cherish on her journey, noticing the most vibrant were the most rare.
In following time, when Our Hero was using her blade to acquire a small bushel of juniper, a sound of crackling leaves and branches was emitted from behind. Used to the sensation, she assumed it was created by one of the helplessly small, furry creatures of The Forest. So not to alarm the animal ― for little animal she thought it was ― she put down her dagger and slowly about-faced. Unfortunately, small and helpless it was not.
The large bear cried a thundering roar that shook the forest for the first time in centuries. Our Hero, fumbling to grab her blade, gave the bear enough time to begin a charge. Our girl, in a moment of trust, trust for her human abilities, planted her feet in the ground, bent her knees, and fluidly put her right hand, equipt with dagger, against her cheek positioned further from the bear. Our deathstalker of the forest, losing its temper through charge, did not expect the girl’s maneuver, and simply ran its skull into the point of the knife. Our Hero, letting the motions roll, was flung out of the bear’s path by the force which snapped her weapon.
Waking to the sound of birds, her eyes were blurry and her body sore from landing on a tree’s root which extruded from the ground. Getting up with much trouble, she recollected her memory and glanced at the broken coronal structure of the bear. She was troubled by her broken dagger, her broken chance at defense, but the idea passed and she was glad to be alive. Slouching down next to the carcass, Our Hero was once again taken by drowsiness, so she leaned against the animal’s soft fur and loosened her muscles. The sensation of it made her sigh, smile, and fall back into the cold embrace of sleep.
Much more time was spent following the trail, but Our Hero no longer stopped to look at the flora or wild animals, for fear of facing another horror. The wheel in the sky grew dimmer, the colors less vibrant, and the landscape less interesting. Forever she walked in the everlasting daylight until weakness took her. The lack of exploration she was doing killed off her senses, and Our Hero was back to the state at which she arrived. Depression clouded her mind. There was no end she could find and fear crowded over her; fear of no end.
At this time, Our Hero’s image of The Forest was worse than before. With no more depth perception, the trees were all dark figures of loathe, bushes and low-lying plants were shady traps, only made to be obstacles for one trying to live, and The Forest as a whole being, shrouded in darkness, alone.
More wandering, pacing, stumbling over her own feet, Our Hero fell for the third time on a strangely rigid structure. Through her weeping, she looked up at the object, and after all this time, she saw the remains of the creature she had slain. And after all this, she opened her eyes for the last time, took a bright look at the colors, smelled the rosemary in the wind, heard the chattering of creatures, and was once again blinded by a glimmering shard of her long lost dagger.The flow of energy was then cut from her body. Though, The Forest did not stop to mourn; it just continued.