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Unfond Memories A Crossover of 90s PC Adventure Game Legends

#1 User is offline   Andrewnuva199 

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Posted 08 February 2011 - 10:27 PM

I give inspiration credit to Mystress for the idea of using the ambiguity of the Stranger for an opprotunity for franchise crossover.

(Cool header image goes here. Someday or another.)
Back for more?

Deep inside a cavern, many miles under the earth, stood an island. It was essentially a pillar of rock, one of many scattered across the massive underground lake within the cavern. Over a hundred years ago it had been the home of an incredible civilization, but now it was almost entirely absent of life.

In that island pillar existed a mansion, called K’veer by the civilization that had erected it. It had been carved into the pillar thousands of years ago, serving as the home of a high-status family, one that had played a role in the civilization’s fall. Now it lay almost entirely dormant.

Deep inside that mansion was a circular room, presumably dedicated to a figure of the civilization’s history, for a face had been made in center of the floor. Across the ceiling were lanterns that burnt dimly with special rocks that glowed brightly. The entire wall was a symmetrical pattern of arches, all looking like they held a door. But only one of them held the door to the room.

But that door was inaccessible, as a cave-in of rocks now blocked the way. It had been caused by an attempt by a young man, many years ago, to escape the room, but his attempt had only increased the security of the room holding him prisoner.

That man had escaped through other means, but many years later, events had caused him to be trapped once again, only now as a much older husband and father of two. Those two children, incidentally, were responsible for making the room the man’s prison once again.

But despite the obvious danger this posed to the man, he was not currently dwelling on the issue. What he was dwelling on was the books on his makeshift (a word which here means “made of loose rocks and a rug”) desk.

One was a small, simple gray book with a dark brown spine and corners, printed on the cover with the simple word “MYST.” This one lay closed and aside a larger, opened book full of strange symbols. The symbols had been written in ink with great accuracy and perfection, and were all part of an extensive narrative-a narrative of a unique island.

The man was adding more of these symbols of the open book, and had been doing so for nearly all of his time in his second stay in the room. If he didn’t, he feared the worse for the island the narrative described, on which both his loving wife and horrid father were stranded, along with all the island’s natural inhabitants.

So he sat, constantly adding to the narrative, sitting in silence except for the scratching of his pen.

Then something interrupted his silence. Something that sounded like a woosh caused by an extreme amount of suction. The man look up, being familiar by what caused the sound, wondering who had linked into the room.

Standing in front of the pile of rocks stood another man, one who looked the worse for wear, to say the least. His skin was pale, but it looked like it had the occasion to have been much paler. His stance gave off the feeling of a being that had been through much hardship. His clothes, consisting of a white shirt and pants topped by a white cap, were faded, slightly faded, and torn at the edges.

The visitor turned to face the older man, revealing a pale face with wide eyes surrounded by shadow. He reacted with shock and suprise, slowly backing away from the man sitting at his desk.

The two simply stared at each other for a minute, until the older man broke the silence.

“Who the Devil are you?” he asked.

“I, uh, I…” the younger man stuttered, taken aback by the statement. “…are you Atrus?”

The older man blinked in surprise. “How do you know my name?”

The younger man put a hand to his head. “I… I remember from your notes, your journals on… Myst… you were trapped here.”

“...yes, I was,” said Atrus, surprised at what this visitor knew. “Come-come closer, my friend. I won’t hurt you.” He added this as the stranger slightly backed away again.

Slowly, the stranger gathered his courage and walked up to Atrus, looking like he had had little experience with others for a very long time. It almost looked like he was seeing him like a student would see a strict but fair teacher.

“Oh, I have many questions, my friend,” Atrus continued. “As you no doubt have for me. Where do I began…”

The stranger looked at him expectantly.

“Perhaps my story is in order. I am Atrus, as you know, and I fear you've met my sons, Sirrus and Achenar, in the red and blue books on Myst Island, in my library… my library.” The man’s face sagged as his memories of the library came flooding in. “Oh... it contains my works, my writings. I wrote many books, many books that linked me to fantastic places. It's an art I learned from my father many years ago.

“Oh, but the red and blue books, those were different. I wrote those books to trap over-greedy explorers that might stumble upon my island of Myst. But I had no idea my own sons would be entrapped.”

The stranger seemed to know what Atrus was talking about, his face not showing much sign of confusion, but he stayed silent as the older man continued. “My sons. Sirrus and Achenar. We had many journeys together. I gave them free reign to the books.”

Atrus held his forehead as the tale began to bring up more painful memories. “Perhaps it was not wise. I could see the greed growing in them. I had not told them about the red and blue books. Their imaginations went wild, they dreamed of riches and power. Of course, they did not know the books were traps. They begged me for access to those books, and I, of course, denied them. Oh... they devised a plan, an evil plan.”

The stranger winced, as if he could recall such a thing from his own experience. Atrus did not notice. “I had no idea to what extent their greed had... had progressed. Their own mother, they used their own mother - oh my dear Catherine - to lure me here to D'ni. Of course, I... I could return to Myst except that they removed a single page from my Myst linking book,” Atrus gestured to the book on his desk. “I cannot return without that page. And neither can you… unless you found it on your way here.”

The stranger looked worried for only a second, and then he stared up in realization. “Oh, but I do, I think,” he said as he dove a hand into a pocket in his pants. Feeling around a bit, he soon pulled out a piece of paper around the size of the Myst book. “I managed to find it in a hidden compartment by the boat. In… I think it was called a Marker Switch.”

Atrus gave off a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God. Please, give it to me.” He held his hand out. The stranger hesitated briefly before passing it over the desk.

The older man stared at the page like it was the greatest treasure imaginable. “You’ve done the right thing,” he said as he picked up the Myst book and opened it. Flipping the pages to a spot where the torn edges of a missing page could be glimpsed, he slipped said page back into its place. With an audible glow, it reattached itself so well that you could not tell it had been taken out at all.

Atrus flipped back to the very front, where an image of a chandlier in the middle of a ceiling painted like a bright blue sky could be seen. He sighed again.

“My sons have betrayed me,” he said, and in that instant, the stranger could see a glint of anger in the old man’s eyes. It frightened him dearly.

“I know what I must do. I will return shortly.” Atrus then placed his hand on the image, there was another wooshing sound, and the older man faded away.

The stranger was now alone again, like he had been on Myst, and all the other worlds, and the place he had been before Myst. Well, not quite so for the last one, but his company there wasn’t aware of him, so to say, most of the time.

Feeling a bit curious, the stranger stepped around the desk to get a better look at the man’s writing area. It wasn’t much to look at. Just the two books, a bright burning oil lamp, a stool created from more of the rocks, and a rock-made shelf holding writing supplies and some small food supplies.

Glancing around the actual room, something in the middle of the floor caught his attention. He walked towards it, finally recognizing it as the image of the face of a bearded man. It sort of looked like Atrus, but it could’ve been any bearded man, especially considering how the image was made out of a collage of rocks, and that wasn’t a very accurate medium for art in general.

Looking into the area where the eyes of the face would be, the stranger suddenly covered his eyes, recalling an experience of flying into the eyes of another image of a face. The face of a man who wasn’t. A man that still haunted his nightmares. A man he had been struggling with for years, ever since he was a child. How long ago had that been? It horrified him how he didn’t know that.

“Calm down, calm down,” he said to himself. “He’s gone, and you’re not even in the same world as him anymore. You have nothing rational to fear from him anymore.”

With another wooshing sound, Atrus retured to the room, right onto his seat at the desk. “Hmm... it is done,” he said. “Oh, I have many questions for you, my friend, but, uh, my writing cannot wait.”

“I can still answer any questions while you write, though,” said the stranger.

“That is true, but I will need to focus more on my writing. I fear that my long delay may have already had a catastrophic impact on the world in which my wife, Catherine, is now being held hostage. We can discuss my queries at another time.

“As for a reward; I, I'm sorry but all I have to offer you is the, the library on the island of Myst, the books that are contained there. Feel free to explore at your leisure. I hope you find your explorations satisfying. You will no longer have my sons to deal with.”

“There’s no need for any reward, but I thank you for the offer regardless.” The stranger resisted the urge to add he had already saved lives, in a way, before finding his way here. That could be discussed later.

Atrus smiled softly. “You are a modest fellow, my friend.” Just as he put his pen to the book he was writing in earlier, he remembered something. “Oh, and, uh, one more favor: I am fighting a foe much greater than my sons could even imagine. (Is he “greater” than I can imagine, the stranger though. Because I can imagine someone very “great” indeed) At some point in the future, I may find it necessary to request your assistance. Until that point, feel free to enjoy the explorations from my library on Myst. Thank you again.”

The stranger nodded, moving to pick up the Myst book. As he opened the cover, Atrus turned his head up again. “I do wish to know one thing, my friend. What is your name?”

The stranger struggled with the question for a second. It had been quite some time since he had needed to use his name, and even more time since he identified himself by it.

“Tad,” he said at last. “Tad Gorman.” Then the stranger placed his hand on the image of the chandelier, and faded out of the room.

#2 User is offline   Lostthyme 

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Posted 09 February 2011 - 04:34 PM

Cool start! I can't wait to see where you take this. :)

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