At Sixes and Sevens (Bedlam Introduction)

[Talks2Self]

Name:
Bedlam, Archon of Luck and Keeper of the "Chimerical Märchen"

Species:
Lesser Outer Being

Age:
N/A

Gender:
N/A (all pronouns; he, she, it, them, they)

Appearance:
Resembling, but not quite, a bipedal humanoid. Their head looks like a sphere containing a galaxy swirling within itself bound to stay fixated upon shoulders that aren't its own. Bedlam's body is an amorphous red slime complete with a sticky outer membrane. Though Bedlam favors bipedal form and movement, they aren't limited to a single form and will often just slither or just "slide" among the grounds or turn into a fine red mist that is easily concealed by more visible concentrations of dew and fogs.
They wear a thick dark earthen-brown linen robe with a hood. Bedlam is seen carrying a thick knapsack strapped across their shoulders where the flap and its contents are easily accessible. Occasionally they will sport a ceramic mask with wispy and changing patterns or a silicone white mask with a neutral human expression that may change depending on who is looking.
The stars of the cosmos in their head will often focus and change to resemble twinkling eyes or will form patterns to making cryptozodiac patterns.

Personality:
Wholly childish in an ancient sort of way. Though intelligent, they lack the nuance other elder things might display. They do not feel the weight of what their actions may bring about and lacks greater understanding of cause and effect. It is also of some importance to note that though they try not to be as their father, it occasionally shines through.
They are formal at first meeting and tries to maintain this persona, but cannot hide an excitement they get from "playing" their games of chance, choice, and adventure.

Traits:
- Waking Dream Weaving -

Bedlam may weave into reality structures, creatures, landscape, or portals to other locations. However, creations that serve as "living" constructs are often borrowed parts of other living things thrown together and breathed new life. Often these are described as shadows of their former selves. As imperfect creatures of what has been, what is, and what will be from the Dreamlands and reality, they obey Bedlam with an unspoken promise to undo what has been done to them and returned to whence they came.

Portals must first lead through the Dreamlands upon its planes and given a small distance apart that is almost imperceptible. This gives the traveler a choice to continue and follow through with the adventure Bedlam would have put them up to, or be lost within the unforgiving corporeal dream. Portals work on the basis of give and take. Like a tiny hole in a shirt with the portals, Bedlam would essentially stick two thumbs into a minor tear and pull gently enough for the hole to be passable, but it creates new aesthetics for both the inner and outer layers of the entrance and exit.
The force used for portals creates restructure on both sides that affects minds that aren't paying attention and forces them to think that the distortion has always been there. This distortion may cause buildings to seem upside down or felled trees take root and blossom as just two examples. These are not permanent alterations, but they do last for as long as the disturbance persists.

- Indecisive -

As a being manifested from a misanthropic cosmic god into agency, Bedlam creates entropy through its own indecisiveness. To resolve this conundrum, it carries with it dice, cards, and a book to roll, draw, and open to reference and to decide its own actions when it is unclear what they should do.

- Wild Games -

Often Bedlam will try to coerce others into a game of adventure. They utilize locations they've already been to to create a domain within the Dreamlands a zone of which to tailor make the experience. However, occasionally, during "play" the scenery may change dramatically and the lands become shifted causing confusion. Though not troublesome initially, it only becomes dangerous when the area begins to close. Those still within the dreamscape when it closes will be swallowed whole and cast into the True Reality that lies outside of control from all but a select few gods. But those that cross over should not return even if given the option (which the "option" is often non-existent).

*((I will be using a set of simple rules within the UV discord that will be modified in time))*

Family:
Nyarlathotep fathered Bedlam, however there is no mention of a mother. Nyarlathotep had only given Bedlam a traceable lineage and no real parenting. It had been noted in the Chimerical Märchen within the 'Madness' section that Nyarlathotep was aware of Bedlam and their activities, but had only as much interest in them as a fifth grader with a science fair project copied from another source just to get a good grade.

Known History:
Bedlam has been around for time immemorial, but when the first civilizations developed is when Bedlam began to take an interest in being active. They don't share their father's malignant personality and chose to be an agent of skill and chance. The more they saw, the more they would create to spice things up.

How did your character find these lands?:
Chance discovery


Anything Else We Need to Know?:
The book is a hardback of unknown origin. There are three (3) header sections to which can be flipped to by willpower alone, each other individual page is blank otherwise and will only reveal themselves when certain stars align.
The headers are labeled; "The Lie", "The Madness", and "The Truth" respectively. Each section governs a troupe seen in structured works. The beginning, middle, and end. Only one other being alive had been foolish enough to have read this and is now a madened salesman of human birth and fey meddling whom seeks to harness such power and knowledge again.
The book's name is "The Chimerical Märchen".

There is also Sly to account for, as he was the being that had read the Chimerical Märchen and often gets caught up in trying to read more of it. Sly has only read a few passages, but enough to break his reality and wishes to transcend being, what he calls, "fictional."

First RP in these lands:


An unseen force shimmers the air like rippling water within the mists of the forest. As it travels closer to the tree line that separates the mists and the forest, it seems to grow larger into a shape of a nondescript humanoid.

As they first walk out with a bleached bone skeletal leg, quickly being disintegrated by a red slime wrapping around it like a tentacle before disappearing under a loose fitted robe. As they walk out, the hood concealed most of what could be seen of a face, but one thing was apparent. There was none. A deeper look would reveal a nexus akin to the cosmos.

They carried a satchel that made a clack with every step against a thud. It looks left, then right, and back from where it came. Then began to move forward.

[Windra]

On more boring days, Naira found herself flirting, more often than not, to the treeline where the mists would creep. Nobody could give her an answer on what was there - not that there was really anybody to talk anymore ...

And she wasn't so curious to jump headlong into the plume, no matter the danger.

But she did discover that sometimes, when you punted an item into it, that same item came back. Sometimes undamaged. Sometimes covered with slime and unidentified ichor. Occasionally you got an entirely new object.

So here she stood at the twilight hours, racing back and forth as something unseen played kickball with her.

The last punt her way came flying to her head.

"Got ya, bitc-"

The Reaver leaped, spiking it with her skull. It slammed back into the mists -

- right at an emerging figure.

Naira halted, waving her hands. "Watch out!"

[Talks2Self]

Upon hearing the echoing sounds of a rubber ball going thunk in the woods, Bedlam would turn slowly to the noise to assess the situation. As another thunk sounded off, it was followed by "Watch out!" to which Bedlam had only a moment for the stars in the spherical dome to align in mild surprised distress as the ball collided under the hood.

Their arms went up with the forceful impact to their head as they reeled back as the ball continued to catch within the hood and spin in place like it were caught in a gyroscopic net. The sphere had disappeared, replaced with the ball that had come to a halt resting on the shoulders from its inertia driven advance.

Bedlam put their arms down after the initial shock and the still ball began to float under the hood and changed position for the air hole would be shown. In a squeak akin to someone trying to fart the alphabet, it spoke through the hole.

"Thanks for the heads up. And the head," it chortled with amusement. Bedlam nodded with the new aesthetic and stretched out his arms openly to give a modest bow. With the squeaker like voice, they continued, "I am the Archon of Luck, Master of Games of chance and skill, and Keeper of the Chimerical Märchen. I am Bedlam. And I fear I am unfamiliar with this place, but I'm pleased to meet you."

[Windra]

Backpedaling was an understatement and thud was a powerful word. Naira tripped over some random ground thing and landed on her butt.

"Wuh-hoah."

So she was sure she didn't have a crazy strong kick, yet the guy's head completely blown away. (But had it even been a head? In the span of a second, she'd noticed the spiraling vortex of a great cosmos sitting where, you know ... a nose, a mouth, and eyes ought to be.) But now it was a ball. The kickball. He was talking out of the little hole in the bottom. What the f-

"I'm pretty sure that's not a normal day in paradise," she tittered, mouth forming a small 'o'. Naira seemed to utterly disregard the introduction in her confinement. "Are you - did I - ?"

Clambering to her feet, she was soon circling Bedlam lije a shark, hovering her hands over the ball but not touching.

"Does that hurt? How are you even talking right now?"

[Talks2Self]

Bedlam squeak-hummed a laugh as the ball began to make that annoying twisting rubber sound. There was then an outline of eyes and brow line formed in a look of joy.

"No I don't, and yes you did. And am I hurt?" They squeaked, the ball deflating more and more as they continued, "I do not feel pain in the same ways you would. I don't have a nervous system or musculoskeletal structure that you could accurately compare with to know what our respective bodies receive as 'pain'."

Naira could noticeably discern the amused, but almost snobbish tone being taken. It was like a king speaking of poverty and being hungry to his tired, starving, and overworked peasants.

Bedlam continued, "I take it you are fond of games, yes? Perhaps I can give you a game worth playing." With the last sentence, the ball became deflated in such a way that the squeak became a flart sound. Bedlam simply reached up and pulled the ball away with a pop like it had been stuck. In the ball's place sat a white neutral human face. A masque, it seemed. "What do you say? Want to play a game of chance and skill?" Their tone suddenly seemed dark and chilling with a hiss akin to that of snakes.

[Windra]

"This didn't suddenly just turn into a thing from Saw, did it?" Naira quipped in a pinpoint turn. Her lips pulled into a grimace. "My record isn't exactly squeaky clean, but all those crimes I allegedly committed had decent reasons, I assure you."

...

"No?"

That mask was creepy. Having been around the block a time or two to see the real horrors of the world, mannequins didn't rank high on her 'to be feared' list. But they were still unsettling to be around ...

She kicked the deflated ball and made a face. "Well hell, it isn't like there's much else to do. But what are the stakes?"

[Talks2Self]

"The stakes are always that of life, death, and the chance for change. For better or worse... These are the only stakes that ever really matter, stranger." Bedlam stated. The mask shifting once again slightly enough to not notice at first. That is until the eyes opened wide and seemed to crawl to the middle of the now smoothed mask and joined together. The cyclopean eye shifted and made movements darting every which way, but the nebulous optic organ wouldn't seem like it should be doing that naturally.

Bedlam's hand gave a wave and his satchel opened as cards began to shoot out. Shuffling in air and between the trees. There were enough cards and movement to make a sober man think themselves drunk as they crossed and passed from one steam of the illustrated cards to another.

Next to float from the satchel was a darkened tattered tome. With a flip of darkened red pages and a shimmer of tarry blackened gilding, it opened to a page and fixed itself in front of Bedlam. It began to ooze and drip thick blackened ichor as it began to emit a visible purple aura.

Bedlam's fingers had snapped and the cards formed into three decks to float to each of their sides and front. Bedlam drew their arms up to the skies and the decks shuffled once more with a final cut.

Naira was presented the choice of which deck to draw from as they came and placed themselves in front of her in the same fashion as they had been with Bedlam.

"Choose... And we will begin play."

The deck to her left had holographic markings that seemed to be glowing. They were light blue in hue and drew from within Naira a sense of forlorn pity and a sense of duty.

The deck to her right also had holographic markings that seemed to be glowing. They were of a firey red lamination that began to give off heat. Naira could sense a feeling of peril, fear, and passion of an unknown source or cause. But the feeling of adrenaline was also becoming present.

The last deck to be mentioned hovered between the other two with some gracious space to separate it. It was of simple ink and paper; lamented to preserve it, presumably. Naira would sense the familiar feeling of adventure, wondrous excitement, and even familial bond.

Bedlam spoke, "Be wary of what you choose. For you may walk away now, but once chosen, you must heed the call of the gambit until you succeed...Or fail those poor souls whom have need of you."

[Windra]

"Joke's on you. I'm already dead."

To be fair, she could see the harm in commiting to the tasks set before her. Even though Naira could not be killed in the same way mortals could, in many senses her own fate could be far worse. There were techniques in which the soul could be erased from the world.

Well ...

Really ... There was barely anybody here in the woods anymore. Most of her friends and family had gone. A little voice whispered in the back of her head, What do you have to lose?

Another bristled, eager for a challenge.

As the cards swirled into three different decks, Naira eyeballed each with wonderment. Indeed an interesting parlor trick ... She wondered at Bedlam's potential powers (and possible threats) while browsing. The glowing red deck filled her with a scent of rapture, but the scent of parchment from the one in the center called to an old wanderlust long sjnce quieted.

She gestured to it. Naira's lizard eyes blinked. "Let's play, shall we?"

[Talks2Self]

Bedlam's masque gives off a feeling of expression of a joyful smirk, "A wise choice..." his words echo as he waves a hand as if turning a page and his fingers drag across the air with a shimmer like it were water.

You blink once and your vision becomes blurred, upon blinking a second time you're convinced something was in your eyes. As you rub them vigorously while scratching a good itch, your vision comes to. You are on a tropical island, by many accounts this would be a paradise. However your sight seeing is cut short by the sight of a man. Though dressed in a comically iconic pirate's attire, the heavy brown jacket, red and white vertical stripe shirt, torn and loose trousers, and that big hat. You, as a Reaper, know that this man walks not among mortals any longer.

"Oi! You there! I've been waitin' on someone like you fer ages! Can ya lens me a hand?" He chuckles deeply as his hook hand waves at you.

"Lookit, me family been waiting on me to come back. Feels like ages, really, but I dun't think I've been 'ere fer that long. Listen close, imma tell ya now what I got to 'ave done is a bit of a tall order. Me mates and me found the lost treasure of Arfur Fearbanks awhile beck and things was goin' pretty good. No mutany or anyfen' o' tha sart, but Posideon 'ad ofher plans fer me ship!

Crashed tha whole thin' into dem crags o'er thar." And the ghostly sailor points to a jetty point where the waves crash dramatically to emphasise a point. There is no ship, not even a mast sticking out of the water.

"Any whey, long story short, we built ah rhaft from wot we could salvage, but our food an' water ran dry afore we set sail. Any whey, long story short, we kinda feasted 'pon each ofhers flesh." He paused for a moment and stared into oblivion. You can't tell if it's a look of regret or one of savoring.

"Ah-any whey, I was wundren iffin you cou'd, ya know, get that treasure back to me fam'ly. Would go a long ways fer them t' get me dockside tavern out of debt and get Johnny in some prop'r schoolin'. I'll letcha keep one of 'em dubloons fer yer troubles. Might be ya own lucky coin, eh?" He tries to elbow Naira in the ribs as a friendly jab, but his shoulders slumped and laughter died promptly when his arm went through you.

The same look of oblivion crossed his face again as he stared down at your ribs and he snorted sharply with a mucous-y sound, "Rioght then! Off ye go. Horizons to cross and my cross to bear. The raft, chest, and charted course are under them thar palm leaves. Hap'y sailin', wind at your back, and dun't ferget yer ports to be kept under yer starboard."

The spectral man laughs heartily and, had he not been dead it would've been rather miraculously, drew forth an accordion as he began to sing.

"O, my name was Captain Kidd
As I sailed, as I sailed
O, my name was Captain Kidd
As I sailed
My name was Captain Kidd
And God's laws I did forbid
And so wickedly I did
As I sailed, as I sailed
So wickedly I did
As I sailed

O, I murdered William Moore
As I sailed, as I sailed
O, I murdered William Moore
As I sailed
I laid him in his gore
Not many leagues from the shore
O, I murdered William Moore
As I sailed, as I sailed
I murdered William Moore
As I sailed

I spied three ships from Spain
As I sailed, as I sailed
O, I spied three ships from Spain
As I sailed
I spied three ships from Spain
And I fired on them a-main
And most of them I slain
As I sailed, as I sailed
And most of them I slain
As I sailed

Come all you young and old
See me die, see me die
Come all you young and old
See me die
You are welcome to my goal
And by it I lost my soul
Come all you young and old
I must die, I must die
Come all you young and old
I must die"

[Windra]

(( Accepted ))

"I ... Do I ... Wait ... Wait what?"

Not only did the scenery do an about face on her, Naira was having her head yammered off by an obviously dead buccaneer. While the salty sea smell was refreshing and the crashing waves brought comfort, the scenery itself had her mind spinning.

Where was the forest?

Where was the guy with the changing head?

And, "Why is it always pirates?"

Naira did a quick spin as an 'aha!'. Nope, no flying galleon. No cat people came crashing to the ground. No prattling skulls. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.

So this ghost privateer was sending her on her way with a metaphorical slap on the rear and before she could press with questions, the swashbuckling spirit pulled an accordion from nowhere and sang a shanty. Naira stared, finger in the air. When the words bubbled out theyvwere accompanied with a glare at the sky.

"Do I get any say in this? No?" she bit. Naira ground her teeth in thought, swaggered to the fact, and mumbled under her breath. "Did I just get shoved into an RPG?"

I used to be an adventurer like you -

Ack. Screw it. The reaver may as well have some fun with it. With a bit of hefting, she hauled the raft with chest and all to the surf, took a long look at the water, and hopped on. Paddling away like a duck.

"If this thing gets chomped by a shark, I'm so screwed."

[Talks2Self]

As Naira paddled, she got some of the horizon behind her in a span of time that was to be better than expected from a small raft with a ramshackle singular sail and a paddle of old driftwood.

The wind picked up in just the right way for the sail to catch the current. As the raft jerked to accommodate a new speed, the winds blew across her face with a gentle spray of sea and the salty air lent to the feeling of unadulterated freedom.

As she passed a second isolated island with the help of the wind at her back, it too became a small dot in the distance as she reached open waters as the sun reached beyond its zenith to shine in her eyes from the west. On this clear day, the weather had proven to be delightful and even soothing.

Until there came a low groan from beneath the waters.



A figure from the depths began to bubble the surface of the water from behind the raft. It caused waves propelling the raft forward with jerks as a glint of bronze caught the light from the depths as it arose closer to the surface with the groaning ever louder and more rapid.

As a flat platform peeked from the ocean, Naira could see that this thing was moving backwards as the water fell off and made loud crashes to rejoin its salty source. The forceful waters shook the raft again and Naira would lose her footing if she would fail to hold on tightly. The mechanical details of this construct began to take shape beneath the water and would be familiar, but the size was exaggerated by man or mer made engineering and construction.

Naira is now faced with unclear choices and even muddier results. Though the two most prevalent choices being instinctual. Fight or flight.

[Windra]

Once she managed to scramble back to her feet, Naira made the hasty decision to tie down anything of value. What was the poont of going on some fetch quest if the item in question sank to the bottom of the sea? Luckily there was loose rope amongst her little cache of items.

With time against her, she haphazardly threw it around the treasure chest and oars, threaded it between the hawser lashing the raft together and crossed her fingers that her shaky clove hitch would hold. Naira made doubly sure to reef the sail.

'This map won't survive no matter what I do," she groused. Adrenaline made fingers tremble. The reaver's gaze was darting. Quickly trying to memorize every detail as the seconds ticked away before the construct would appear again. "Once water touches it, goodbye ink."

Naira jammed the parchment into her pocket knowing full well that would do nothing to protect it. Staying on the raft just meant this metal thing was gonna target and shred it. So she took a deep breath and dove into the sea.

And hoped the raft wouldn't drift too far.

Once submerged, the reaver sank a few feet. She began treading water once she was a little ways down, locking eyes on the machine and waving her arms as if to say, "Hey, knock it off!"

She was a small humanoid in comparison to this machination. What harm would she pose? Maybe whoever was piloting would realuze that and chill.

[Talks2Self]

As Naira dove in and waved at the construct, it was revealed to be a Backswimmer made entirely of bronze and was the size of a long house. The accumulated crustations, barnacles, and evident rust lending credence to a long voyage without resurface for maintenance. What was peering outward from the waters was its thorax as its longer arms only began reaching up for the surface. Loud clunks and clangs sounded off muffled by the water as the legs kicked and arms reached unsteady from decades or more of sustained submersion.

As Naira continued to wave for someone to stop, she would note a red light of the compound eyes moved to see Naira in all her facets. The light dimmed for a moment then shown brighter.

The not-so-evident pilot halted the breech of the surface and brought the machine clicking and clacking to recede.

It focused on the swimming Naira.

It withdrew its long arm from the water surface to extend in another direction. To pluck Naira from where she was for a grab.





As it grabbed Naira, she felt a sticky sensation that gave her little hope of escaping. It was painless, but to thalassophobics the psychological trauma would last a lifetime. As it brought her to the insectiod beak it began to suck in sea water with Naira along with as she was swallowed whole into a darkened channel of tubing.

Had the reaver needed to breathe, she would have been in danger of drowning, but the powerful current still whipped her around like a rag doll. As she zigged right, then left, she then was brought to a sudden stop whereupon the waters were siphoned out and she found herself in total darkness. The sounds of gears and cogs turning and grinding against one another were the companions of a low hum accompaniment as a dim illumination cast shadows around her.

In the area Naira found herself, she had been encased in a cylindrical glass containment area. The lights began to show two large multi-angled windows that wound be dizzying to try and comprehend. But alone fixated on a pedestal sat a large uncut red gemstone. Though it weren't refined, it still gave a sense of regality and higher placement in the world.



...It then spoke in a female voice...


A mortal among my seas? Those familiar to the legends of mine people know these waters to be of pristine order in accordance with nature. To what ends are you trying to achieve, young one, that you risk being cleansed in mine domain?

[Windra]

Fun fact:

Though Naira could not drown, she could 'drown'. Treasing water was a favorite pastime of her's, but faltering to the endless abyss was not. A reaver could take on water and sink to the depths, not reviving until their body was retrieved. Similarly, they could dissolve into atomic particles in magma and hope to manifest once their biological remains surfaced and cooled into rock, whereupon they would have to dig themselves out or wait to be excavated.

For a brief moment, Naira feared the former fate awaited her as water poured into her lungs. Desperate fingers clawed the ocean for oxygen they could not hope to extract. Chest burning, she sucked in endless breath after breath of salty sea until fatigue gave fuel to the blackness on the periphery of her vision.

--

Naira awoke with a gasp, followed by hacking coughs accumulating into a long string of tidewater vomit. It took several minutes for her to regain composure - and breath. Standing on quivering legs was difficult, so she leaned against the cylindrical chamber for support and realuzed at that moment that she was trapped.

Was this an illusion created by that Bedlam guy? It felt far too real.

Trippy.

And horrifying.

Through the full ringing in her ears, Naira heard the din of a female voice. Green eyes settled on the precious stone, altogether perplexed as to how it was communicating with her. Was it really something to question? Her own refrigerator at home was powered by a Greater Soul Gem from Tamriel, for God's sake.

"Not mortal," she corrected, draconic tail swaying violently behind her - a tell of her irritation. "And I'm not - "

There was a caustic bite to her words. Naira retraced them with a hiss. She was in captivity ... Being disrespectful to her honored host would not bode well for her.

"You'll - we - have to forgive me. I'm unfamiliar with these waters as well as the legends that give them life. I am merely a traveler seeking to bring a deceased sailor's gifts to his mourning family." Naira dipped her torso into a polite bow. Her soaked clothes dripped noisily. "I meant in no way to vex you, ma'am. If you were to permit me safe travel, I will hasten my way from your domain and trouble you no longer."

[FrankJScott]

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