A Question for Eternity: a Sorcerously Advanced Quest of New Immortals Seeking Purpose
- Thread starter MxOberon
- Start date
- Original Mature Fantasy Action
A Day At The Theater - Day 1.2
At any point in time, the streets of a Sovereign city-state were akin to the flow of sap tracing its way down the bark of a tree. Thick with people, leisurely in pace, and wide enough for the grand stalls hawking glittering displays of theurgical wares and Traditional mechanisms. If you turned from the Market Roads then you'd pay witness to an even slower pace of life. Sprawling parks filled with sleek demon-bone fortresses sized for children to play under the watchful eyes of infernal nannies. In another direction, young lovers in the early throes of romance with eyes only for the other. Unable to endure even a moment of longing they hold their drinking horns up to a decambion—a squat devil whose life's purpose was to hold wine within its rotund belly—who on cue unplugged its bulbous stomach to let liquid-love flow into their cups.
Tibia cast her eyes downward. She couldn't help appreciate the leisurely pace of Sovereign living—it was undoubtedly comfortable—but wherever she looked she could see a comfort paid at another's expense. Maybe that was why her feet guided her toward the amphitheater. As the de-facto locus for discourse amongst the Sages it saw little in attendance from more traditional sorts. It was her reprieve from a life that left her utterly confused.
When the sounds of playing children and lounging lovers could no longer be heard Tibia knew she had arrived. Her eyes tilted up as she drank deep of the Grand-Gore Amphitheater's beauty. Made out of gorey-red corundum, it was a marvel of Transmutation that left many—even the Sages' firmest detractors—stunned to meditative silence. Tibia let the urge take her, peering through a triangle she made with her hands, she used her Sixth Sense. A casual benefit of The Gift barely rising to the esteem of true Expressions, but for her it was everything. Under it the amphitheater lit up in geometric beauty as infinite fractalizing patterns could be perceived lilting up onto passing streams of Flow. While below the theater she saw the Leyline—that sun-white artery of condensed Flow—snake its way into the depths of the city so subtly stained with innocent runic formula courtesy of the Sages. While denied by many as cowards, there was a proof in the Leyline that they were of the city.
"Tibia, darling, it's been too long," called a voice in the distance.
Still focusing with her Sixth Sense, Tibia caught sight of the ever-changing fractal signature belonging to the amphitheater's builder—and her mentor—Jasmine, Overlord of Cowardly Machinations. Her eyes fluttered once more as she took in her teacher. His form was different since she had last saw him. Gone was the trailing beard and the river-like lines of deep thought that instilled his face with a unique topography. In its place was a buxom beauty with a topography of hill-tall hips and waterfall-hair. All rendered in the iridescence of fractalizing bismuth. Tibia's heart stilled so long that her nascent immortality was nearly put to the test. Come now, Jasmine was an elder of five hundred years—no wonder he had the time to sculpt a beatific form.
Jasmine smirked at his student. "If you'd visit more often this wouldn't happen. It took many subtle shifts to achieve this."
Tibia coughed, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," Jasmine said. "Has my favorite apprentice been keeping her skills sharp?"
Tibia sheepishly rubbed her head, "A lot's happened since you last saw me. Hasn't been much time to keep all of them where they should be. Still I…"
Choose One:
[ ] "...Practice the rainbow-lyre everyday!" (Gain Expertise: Artist [Rainbow Lyre and Singing] 3)
[ ] "...Practice the rainbow-lyre when I can." (Gain Expertise: Artist [Rainbow Lyre and Singing] 2)
[ ] "...Practice the rainbow-lyre here and there." (Gain Expertise: Artist [Rainbow Lyre and Singing] 1)
[ ] "...Commune with the spirits daily!" (Gain Expertise: Medium 3)
[ ] "...Commune with the spirits on their weekly holy days." (Gain Expertise: Medium 2)
[ ] "...Commune with the spirits once a season." (Gain Expertise: Medium 1)
[ ] "...Visit the medical hall to assist every day." (Gain Expertise: Healer 3)
[ ] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[ ] "...Visit the medical hall now and then." (Gain Expertise: Healer 1)
"I suppose that's still good. Still, don't let your mundane skills atrophy. It's through them that we can refine our magic to the specific application of our Natures. Now come along." He took her by the hand and guided her toward open seats. "The day's symposium has only just started, so you haven't missed much."
"You aren't lecturing today?" Tibia asked.
Jasmine smiled softly—fuck he gave his new form dimples!—and gestured down to the stage. There in the beginning of a lecture was another specimen of pristine design, though this one was of a more machined nature. In plates of glyph inscribed steel was an automaton of a masculine cut. Through the gaps in its plates were thin crystalline wires interwoven to mimic natural muscular structures. All of this could only be perceived because the speaker wore little in the way of clothing. Whoever they were, they had labored over this body and wished to leave nothing to a stranger's paltry imagination. Their only gesture at propriety being a wrap skirt slung about their waist that grazed the stage with each motion.
"I was on the docket, but upon spotting such a specimen in the market today I knew a fellow master of geometric beauty had graced us," Jasmine said. Tibia leaned back in surprise at the way her mentor seemed to drool over the sight of the guest speaker. Five hundred years and no control at all.
"The craftsmanship is respectable, but that's the handiwork of the Guild."
Jasmine flicked Tibia's forehead, "Obviously child. It doesn't take the higher sense to spot that. The point though, is that he's a fellow traveler of our path. Even though our destinations differ there's much you can learn from those you meet at any stage of the journey into magic."
The words were simple, but Tibia could tell they were laden in understanding. Jasmine was there in the beginning after all. When the Gift was new and all of humanity besides those Old Monsters were like children flexing muscles they've barely known.
"Let's see what he has to say then."
They took their seats and each tapped at the well-hidden glyphs that enabled the stage's permanent Expression, Oratory Amplification. Suddenly the automaton's words were at her ear at a sound no louder than a tea-time conversation.
"It is to my pleasure to be invited here by Overlord Jasmine—"
"Just Jasmine, darling!" Her tutor called out which earned the snickers of the audience.
"Understood. It was at Jasmine's extension of opportunity that I saw it as a stroke of refined synchronicity. To members of the broader world, especially the Guild, we've all heard of the famous Devilpower that has cowed deities and made freemen of enslaved humans across numerous hells. Yet we believe, as I no doubt you do as well, that while famous there is a power higher than that taken from despoiled divinity. It is the path that only humans have charted, that only we have blazed even before the Gift uplifted us, and whose mysteries we all still delve. It is the path of Geometry." That earned him no small amount of applause. "Geometry, which bares no weakness to the vagaries of fame. Geometry which is perceived in the perfection of a lotus or the bismuth locks of our elder, Jasmine. Yet, to the heights that Geometry takes us, I can not help but see you my brothers and sisters on the path as becoming lost. Your Tradition spoiled by its very destination in mimicry of deities that you yourselves cast down with the regularity of a Guild bell." Tibia leaned forward. Her eyes narrow as she realized that this metal bastard had just insulted them.
The automaton rode the high of his own rhetoric and took to prowling the stage. Electric-blue light blazed behind crystalline eyes that met each of ours with a pitying intensity. His voice struck up again, "Rather than mere divine lows, I, Insight of the Twenty-Fifth City, mean to speak to you of the Sacred Geometry. Of Alchemy!"
In naming the fount, the destination of their wisdom, Tibia felt a subtle shifting in the amphitheater's flow. She could taste it on her tongue. The precision found in meditative formula and her own teacher's infinite mandalas was being worn down by Insight's words. In the ontological grooves being wrought she could taste the promise of endless change, ouroborean proofs that were lossless in nature, but had a gap in their grand ambition. A gap that Insight felt little need to acknowledge, and so Tibia felt little need to continue acknowledging his words.
Jasmine tutted, "Disappointing, isn't it. A form so beautiful holding a spirit that would struggle to conceive of it all the same. If beauty even could exist in such a paradigm."
"You can still bed him if you want," Tibia offered.
Jasmine flicked Tibia on the forehead once more. Tibia bit down a swear. While her mentor made the bismuth look soft-as-skin, it was still bismuth and a flick propelled by such consternation struck with all the force of a hand-tossed pebble. Shit stung.
"You're too glib. How does your mother handle you?"
"She doesn't. Never really did try with me. Just said, 'We're the dictators of our souls' and then sent me off to my tutors. Made me responsible for everything once I could even conceive of responsibility. Now she's just going to send me off again."
Jasmine's face softened. His pouty lips tightening as he braced for a question whose answer he had heard countless times before. "Where?"
Tibia gave a weak smile, "Anywhere but home. Either I'm an exile and expelled, or I live up to our house and join the Grand Conquest. All the same really."
"The Conquest wouldn't be that bad."
"But I'm not built for it. I don't agree with the enslavement of demons and I definitely don't agree with their slaughter!"
A few audience member's eyes glanced their way. Jasmine projected a few mollifying smiles before turning back to her.
"Tibia, my dear, I love your gentle spirit and the mind it powers. Yet, I can't help but wish you sought to employ those feelings towards entities more deserving of them. I lived beneath demonic rule and…"
"You don't have to tell me."
Jasmine put up a hand. "I don't. I can show you, if you'll let me," and he offered Tibia his hand. She stared at it and spotted the patterns that moved into place upon his palm, Spiritual Union. Tibia took it and her mind fell into a memory, Jasmine's memory.
The two of them sat beside each other in front of a smoldering hearth. It's fire had been tamped down so as to not risk embers catching upon anything. The home itself was quaint. A construction of wood—a rarity in Sovereign lands these days—that could barely keep out the frigid fingers of winter beyond its walls. Yet the family sitting a few steps away at a table seemed none too affected by it. Smiles traced faces as they ate from a shared pot of soup.
Jasmine spoke, "Demons are a brutal kind, and when not brutal they are insidious. Tormenting you with dreams that should offer hope, or exploiting the intimate desires that mark our humanity. When I was young, a demon had stolen my mother's skin."
The door opened as a woman slipped inside the home. Quick to shut the door behind her lest more heat be lost. She pulled a knit hat from her head and hung her jacket on a small brass hook. Tibia's eyes widened as she glanced at Jasmine. In the flow of the woman's body, the flow of her hair, and a chest that heaved with laughter there was a…Tibia let the thought die.
"It moved her with the grace of an actor leaving us none the wiser. Then I awoke to it, using my mother to butcher my siblings and my father. It had made garlands of their intestines, pouches with their flesh, and dangled their heads from the ceiling in mimicry of a chandelier."
"Jasmine, please," Tibia begged. The innocent scene of a happy family was gone. In its place was a redecoration befitting an alien mind from hell. Red was the dominant color-theme. Though there was grim artistry, Jasmine supposed, at the faces on the heads. They weren't surprised, but rather caught in the elusive rictus of resignation. Their spirits broken and life taken by the person who was meant to love them. Protect them. The demon swaggered over to the shaking form of an eight year-old, Jasmine. His mother's hands on her hips in gleeful pantomime.
"The demon, you see, had read me a bedtime story that night as I was unable to sleep. So it asked me, 'Now what's keeping you up?' and innocently I told it, 'That I couldn't sleep. My birthday was tomorrow after all.'" Jasmine's shoulders shuddered from the weight of the memory. "So it made me a celebration. When it spotted me it cackled with glee before throwing up its blood-stained hands. 'All fun has to come to an end eventually,' and then it left. The worst part though was left to my mother. It had stolen her body, but it didn't take her life. Just bound her spirit into her eyes so she was forced to watch as her own hands killed every good thing she brought into the world."
It was then that Jasmine's mother fell to her knees as if struck upon the back of her head. She was back in control; the wailing that echoed in Tibia's heart told her that she wished she wasn't.
"Many see our path and call us cowards. I taught you that that is furthest from the truth. What I failed to impart in you, my apprentice, is that we Sage's have the wisdom to not enslave demons for more than skepticism to their subservience. We—I—say that we have the wisdom to not let live things that should be obliterated from all the Worlds Beyond. In Aion's infinite understanding and benevolence, the Hells exist as a perversion to be excised. So I say, if you love this place, this gentleness, and you love your fellow sages. Then go into Hell and make them into mausoleums!"
Jasmine opened the door and gestured for Tibia to leave. Upon crossing the threshold, the Soul Union broke and the two were back in the amphitheater. Tibia swallowed what bile sought its way up her throat. Her eyes couldn't stand the corundum. The gorey-red once beautiful having taken on an unbearable significance. There should've been silence then. A moment for Tibia to process what she saw, what she knew was no propagandistic fiction, but a tangible memory from one of the only people who loved her in this world. Her convictions felt so shallow.
Unfortunately, this was a moment only they shared. Even more unfortunately, it was shared in a public setting and as such the public intruded.
Insight of the Twenty-Fifth City loomed over Tibia. His form transmuted into a grim silhouette.
"Do I bore you?" he asked. Up close and free from the stage's refinement, his voice was gravelly. Falling into a controlled metronomic pace.
Still raw from her vision Tibia had little handle on the venom she now felt. She rose up in front of Insight, disregarding that even at full height she barely reached his pectorals, and sneered.
"What a gift it'd be if I could say you bored me."
"Hmph, an insult then."
"We don't use money much here, so we simply pay in kind."
"And where in my lecture, that you paid little heed to need I remind, did you find insult?"
"From the very beginning in which you postulate that our Traditions, honed through struggle and refined in the crucible of world beyond worlds, makes us no more than children in your eyes. When from where I sit, only a child feels the need to wail that all the world is wrong. All the while not seeing the simple truth that they're obstinate towards!"
Insight tilted his chin in challenge and curiosity as he considered the tiny Sovereign before him. The robes that floated about her figure like a blue bell's petals had painted an image of softness. Her eyes wide and wet glistened, catching flecks of the corundum's red light in her honeyed gaze. This was not someone prone to bouts of reckless challenge, but rather a person whom courage had oft passed over seeking someone of sterner stuff. Yet here she stood, a challenge to all he knew and him to all she knew, and Insight couldn't resist humoring her.
"If you wish to lecture, I think the stage befits you more than the stands. Don't you?"
He tilted his body with the grace of a well-oiled door. Past him descended the steps. Tibia could feel her heart slowing. She had attended countless lectures but never taught one. Her own understanding was still piecemeal as she saw it. No Expressions bore her name for their invention, and despite her family's ownership of the Soul Forges she had crafted no tools requiring feats of Theurgy. She wasn't anyone. She was a coward. She—felt Jasmine's hand grip hers. An anchor back to the amphitheater. For just a moment their minds were one.
"No matter your choice, you're my apprentice, and I'll always support you."
Tibia looked back at the metal-man before her, and made her choice.
Choose One:
[ ] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Dreams (Dream Travel Becomes A Core Expression)
[ ] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
[ ] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Memory (Mnemosurgery Becomes A Core Expression)
[ ] Run Away (No Core Expression is acquired. Instead you have a mystery encounter)
***AN: A lot happened here, and now that we're getting into some more mechanics here's some explanations.
First, on Expertise. As stated in the glossary it's referring to specific Professions dear Tibia has training in. These Professions are rather expansive in what they offer. So Artist, for example, gives you more than the ability to play an instrument and sing in this case. It'd also let you compose music, know how to market your music, and anything else an Artist would need.
Professions are rated on a scale of 1-5. However, without the use of magic you all are stuck at ratings 1-3 (mainly because above 3 requires having lived for like 100+ years to acquire naturally).
Over these five days you'll be determining what the rating for these professions are for Tibia. She can have two Professions at 1, two Professions at 2, and one Profession at 3. This means that as you make choices the other doors that might be available for you will close.
As to your other choice of Core Expression. These Expressions are those that Tibia will always be able to cast without needing to spend Reserve to do so. Tibia can only have six Core Expressions at a time. These can be changed, but it'll require a lot of time.
Each daytime choice will give you three options for Core Expressions. In the case that you don't like any of these options you can choose the fourth option which will always let you avoid making a choice. If taken you'll instead have a mystery encounter: which for this arc will see me rolling on a secret table filled with the hosts for the many balls of the Endless Marche.
These encounters could help you gain new allies, different Expression options, special tools, or whatever else.
Finally, since we're about to go into our first Conflict, I'll be posting a shortened version of Insight's character sheet. Due to Tibia having such a high Mystery she's naturally able to discern the Core Values, Natures, Tradition, and Expertise of those before her. Provided their Mystery or Trickery aren't higher than her own Mystery rating. So congrats there, she has the built in ability to rate threats!
Anyways, make sure you vote for one of each section (profession and expression). Voting will close tomorrow at 2pm PST. I'm always around if there are any questions to help make your voting lives easier.
Tibia cast her eyes downward. She couldn't help appreciate the leisurely pace of Sovereign living—it was undoubtedly comfortable—but wherever she looked she could see a comfort paid at another's expense. Maybe that was why her feet guided her toward the amphitheater. As the de-facto locus for discourse amongst the Sages it saw little in attendance from more traditional sorts. It was her reprieve from a life that left her utterly confused.
When the sounds of playing children and lounging lovers could no longer be heard Tibia knew she had arrived. Her eyes tilted up as she drank deep of the Grand-Gore Amphitheater's beauty. Made out of gorey-red corundum, it was a marvel of Transmutation that left many—even the Sages' firmest detractors—stunned to meditative silence. Tibia let the urge take her, peering through a triangle she made with her hands, she used her Sixth Sense. A casual benefit of The Gift barely rising to the esteem of true Expressions, but for her it was everything. Under it the amphitheater lit up in geometric beauty as infinite fractalizing patterns could be perceived lilting up onto passing streams of Flow. While below the theater she saw the Leyline—that sun-white artery of condensed Flow—snake its way into the depths of the city so subtly stained with innocent runic formula courtesy of the Sages. While denied by many as cowards, there was a proof in the Leyline that they were of the city.
"Tibia, darling, it's been too long," called a voice in the distance.
Still focusing with her Sixth Sense, Tibia caught sight of the ever-changing fractal signature belonging to the amphitheater's builder—and her mentor—Jasmine, Overlord of Cowardly Machinations. Her eyes fluttered once more as she took in her teacher. His form was different since she had last saw him. Gone was the trailing beard and the river-like lines of deep thought that instilled his face with a unique topography. In its place was a buxom beauty with a topography of hill-tall hips and waterfall-hair. All rendered in the iridescence of fractalizing bismuth. Tibia's heart stilled so long that her nascent immortality was nearly put to the test. Come now, Jasmine was an elder of five hundred years—no wonder he had the time to sculpt a beatific form.
Jasmine smirked at his student. "If you'd visit more often this wouldn't happen. It took many subtle shifts to achieve this."
Tibia coughed, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," Jasmine said. "Has my favorite apprentice been keeping her skills sharp?"
Tibia sheepishly rubbed her head, "A lot's happened since you last saw me. Hasn't been much time to keep all of them where they should be. Still I…"
Choose One:
[ ] "...Practice the rainbow-lyre everyday!" (Gain Expertise: Artist [Rainbow Lyre and Singing] 3)
[ ] "...Practice the rainbow-lyre when I can." (Gain Expertise: Artist [Rainbow Lyre and Singing] 2)
[ ] "...Practice the rainbow-lyre here and there." (Gain Expertise: Artist [Rainbow Lyre and Singing] 1)
[ ] "...Commune with the spirits daily!" (Gain Expertise: Medium 3)
[ ] "...Commune with the spirits on their weekly holy days." (Gain Expertise: Medium 2)
[ ] "...Commune with the spirits once a season." (Gain Expertise: Medium 1)
[ ] "...Visit the medical hall to assist every day." (Gain Expertise: Healer 3)
[ ] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[ ] "...Visit the medical hall now and then." (Gain Expertise: Healer 1)
"I suppose that's still good. Still, don't let your mundane skills atrophy. It's through them that we can refine our magic to the specific application of our Natures. Now come along." He took her by the hand and guided her toward open seats. "The day's symposium has only just started, so you haven't missed much."
"You aren't lecturing today?" Tibia asked.
Jasmine smiled softly—fuck he gave his new form dimples!—and gestured down to the stage. There in the beginning of a lecture was another specimen of pristine design, though this one was of a more machined nature. In plates of glyph inscribed steel was an automaton of a masculine cut. Through the gaps in its plates were thin crystalline wires interwoven to mimic natural muscular structures. All of this could only be perceived because the speaker wore little in the way of clothing. Whoever they were, they had labored over this body and wished to leave nothing to a stranger's paltry imagination. Their only gesture at propriety being a wrap skirt slung about their waist that grazed the stage with each motion.
"I was on the docket, but upon spotting such a specimen in the market today I knew a fellow master of geometric beauty had graced us," Jasmine said. Tibia leaned back in surprise at the way her mentor seemed to drool over the sight of the guest speaker. Five hundred years and no control at all.
"The craftsmanship is respectable, but that's the handiwork of the Guild."
Jasmine flicked Tibia's forehead, "Obviously child. It doesn't take the higher sense to spot that. The point though, is that he's a fellow traveler of our path. Even though our destinations differ there's much you can learn from those you meet at any stage of the journey into magic."
The words were simple, but Tibia could tell they were laden in understanding. Jasmine was there in the beginning after all. When the Gift was new and all of humanity besides those Old Monsters were like children flexing muscles they've barely known.
"Let's see what he has to say then."
They took their seats and each tapped at the well-hidden glyphs that enabled the stage's permanent Expression, Oratory Amplification. Suddenly the automaton's words were at her ear at a sound no louder than a tea-time conversation.
"It is to my pleasure to be invited here by Overlord Jasmine—"
"Just Jasmine, darling!" Her tutor called out which earned the snickers of the audience.
"Understood. It was at Jasmine's extension of opportunity that I saw it as a stroke of refined synchronicity. To members of the broader world, especially the Guild, we've all heard of the famous Devilpower that has cowed deities and made freemen of enslaved humans across numerous hells. Yet we believe, as I no doubt you do as well, that while famous there is a power higher than that taken from despoiled divinity. It is the path that only humans have charted, that only we have blazed even before the Gift uplifted us, and whose mysteries we all still delve. It is the path of Geometry." That earned him no small amount of applause. "Geometry, which bares no weakness to the vagaries of fame. Geometry which is perceived in the perfection of a lotus or the bismuth locks of our elder, Jasmine. Yet, to the heights that Geometry takes us, I can not help but see you my brothers and sisters on the path as becoming lost. Your Tradition spoiled by its very destination in mimicry of deities that you yourselves cast down with the regularity of a Guild bell." Tibia leaned forward. Her eyes narrow as she realized that this metal bastard had just insulted them.
The automaton rode the high of his own rhetoric and took to prowling the stage. Electric-blue light blazed behind crystalline eyes that met each of ours with a pitying intensity. His voice struck up again, "Rather than mere divine lows, I, Insight of the Twenty-Fifth City, mean to speak to you of the Sacred Geometry. Of Alchemy!"
In naming the fount, the destination of their wisdom, Tibia felt a subtle shifting in the amphitheater's flow. She could taste it on her tongue. The precision found in meditative formula and her own teacher's infinite mandalas was being worn down by Insight's words. In the ontological grooves being wrought she could taste the promise of endless change, ouroborean proofs that were lossless in nature, but had a gap in their grand ambition. A gap that Insight felt little need to acknowledge, and so Tibia felt little need to continue acknowledging his words.
Jasmine tutted, "Disappointing, isn't it. A form so beautiful holding a spirit that would struggle to conceive of it all the same. If beauty even could exist in such a paradigm."
"You can still bed him if you want," Tibia offered.
Jasmine flicked Tibia on the forehead once more. Tibia bit down a swear. While her mentor made the bismuth look soft-as-skin, it was still bismuth and a flick propelled by such consternation struck with all the force of a hand-tossed pebble. Shit stung.
"You're too glib. How does your mother handle you?"
"She doesn't. Never really did try with me. Just said, 'We're the dictators of our souls' and then sent me off to my tutors. Made me responsible for everything once I could even conceive of responsibility. Now she's just going to send me off again."
Jasmine's face softened. His pouty lips tightening as he braced for a question whose answer he had heard countless times before. "Where?"
Tibia gave a weak smile, "Anywhere but home. Either I'm an exile and expelled, or I live up to our house and join the Grand Conquest. All the same really."
"The Conquest wouldn't be that bad."
"But I'm not built for it. I don't agree with the enslavement of demons and I definitely don't agree with their slaughter!"
A few audience member's eyes glanced their way. Jasmine projected a few mollifying smiles before turning back to her.
"Tibia, my dear, I love your gentle spirit and the mind it powers. Yet, I can't help but wish you sought to employ those feelings towards entities more deserving of them. I lived beneath demonic rule and…"
"You don't have to tell me."
Jasmine put up a hand. "I don't. I can show you, if you'll let me," and he offered Tibia his hand. She stared at it and spotted the patterns that moved into place upon his palm, Spiritual Union. Tibia took it and her mind fell into a memory, Jasmine's memory.
The two of them sat beside each other in front of a smoldering hearth. It's fire had been tamped down so as to not risk embers catching upon anything. The home itself was quaint. A construction of wood—a rarity in Sovereign lands these days—that could barely keep out the frigid fingers of winter beyond its walls. Yet the family sitting a few steps away at a table seemed none too affected by it. Smiles traced faces as they ate from a shared pot of soup.
Jasmine spoke, "Demons are a brutal kind, and when not brutal they are insidious. Tormenting you with dreams that should offer hope, or exploiting the intimate desires that mark our humanity. When I was young, a demon had stolen my mother's skin."
The door opened as a woman slipped inside the home. Quick to shut the door behind her lest more heat be lost. She pulled a knit hat from her head and hung her jacket on a small brass hook. Tibia's eyes widened as she glanced at Jasmine. In the flow of the woman's body, the flow of her hair, and a chest that heaved with laughter there was a…Tibia let the thought die.
"It moved her with the grace of an actor leaving us none the wiser. Then I awoke to it, using my mother to butcher my siblings and my father. It had made garlands of their intestines, pouches with their flesh, and dangled their heads from the ceiling in mimicry of a chandelier."
"Jasmine, please," Tibia begged. The innocent scene of a happy family was gone. In its place was a redecoration befitting an alien mind from hell. Red was the dominant color-theme. Though there was grim artistry, Jasmine supposed, at the faces on the heads. They weren't surprised, but rather caught in the elusive rictus of resignation. Their spirits broken and life taken by the person who was meant to love them. Protect them. The demon swaggered over to the shaking form of an eight year-old, Jasmine. His mother's hands on her hips in gleeful pantomime.
"The demon, you see, had read me a bedtime story that night as I was unable to sleep. So it asked me, 'Now what's keeping you up?' and innocently I told it, 'That I couldn't sleep. My birthday was tomorrow after all.'" Jasmine's shoulders shuddered from the weight of the memory. "So it made me a celebration. When it spotted me it cackled with glee before throwing up its blood-stained hands. 'All fun has to come to an end eventually,' and then it left. The worst part though was left to my mother. It had stolen her body, but it didn't take her life. Just bound her spirit into her eyes so she was forced to watch as her own hands killed every good thing she brought into the world."
It was then that Jasmine's mother fell to her knees as if struck upon the back of her head. She was back in control; the wailing that echoed in Tibia's heart told her that she wished she wasn't.
"Many see our path and call us cowards. I taught you that that is furthest from the truth. What I failed to impart in you, my apprentice, is that we Sage's have the wisdom to not enslave demons for more than skepticism to their subservience. We—I—say that we have the wisdom to not let live things that should be obliterated from all the Worlds Beyond. In Aion's infinite understanding and benevolence, the Hells exist as a perversion to be excised. So I say, if you love this place, this gentleness, and you love your fellow sages. Then go into Hell and make them into mausoleums!"
Jasmine opened the door and gestured for Tibia to leave. Upon crossing the threshold, the Soul Union broke and the two were back in the amphitheater. Tibia swallowed what bile sought its way up her throat. Her eyes couldn't stand the corundum. The gorey-red once beautiful having taken on an unbearable significance. There should've been silence then. A moment for Tibia to process what she saw, what she knew was no propagandistic fiction, but a tangible memory from one of the only people who loved her in this world. Her convictions felt so shallow.
Unfortunately, this was a moment only they shared. Even more unfortunately, it was shared in a public setting and as such the public intruded.
Insight of the Twenty-Fifth City loomed over Tibia. His form transmuted into a grim silhouette.
"Do I bore you?" he asked. Up close and free from the stage's refinement, his voice was gravelly. Falling into a controlled metronomic pace.
Still raw from her vision Tibia had little handle on the venom she now felt. She rose up in front of Insight, disregarding that even at full height she barely reached his pectorals, and sneered.
"What a gift it'd be if I could say you bored me."
"Hmph, an insult then."
"We don't use money much here, so we simply pay in kind."
"And where in my lecture, that you paid little heed to need I remind, did you find insult?"
"From the very beginning in which you postulate that our Traditions, honed through struggle and refined in the crucible of world beyond worlds, makes us no more than children in your eyes. When from where I sit, only a child feels the need to wail that all the world is wrong. All the while not seeing the simple truth that they're obstinate towards!"
Insight tilted his chin in challenge and curiosity as he considered the tiny Sovereign before him. The robes that floated about her figure like a blue bell's petals had painted an image of softness. Her eyes wide and wet glistened, catching flecks of the corundum's red light in her honeyed gaze. This was not someone prone to bouts of reckless challenge, but rather a person whom courage had oft passed over seeking someone of sterner stuff. Yet here she stood, a challenge to all he knew and him to all she knew, and Insight couldn't resist humoring her.
"If you wish to lecture, I think the stage befits you more than the stands. Don't you?"
He tilted his body with the grace of a well-oiled door. Past him descended the steps. Tibia could feel her heart slowing. She had attended countless lectures but never taught one. Her own understanding was still piecemeal as she saw it. No Expressions bore her name for their invention, and despite her family's ownership of the Soul Forges she had crafted no tools requiring feats of Theurgy. She wasn't anyone. She was a coward. She—felt Jasmine's hand grip hers. An anchor back to the amphitheater. For just a moment their minds were one.
"No matter your choice, you're my apprentice, and I'll always support you."
Tibia looked back at the metal-man before her, and made her choice.
Choose One:
[ ] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Dreams (Dream Travel Becomes A Core Expression)
[ ] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
[ ] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Memory (Mnemosurgery Becomes A Core Expression)
[ ] Run Away (No Core Expression is acquired. Instead you have a mystery encounter)
***AN: A lot happened here, and now that we're getting into some more mechanics here's some explanations.
First, on Expertise. As stated in the glossary it's referring to specific Professions dear Tibia has training in. These Professions are rather expansive in what they offer. So Artist, for example, gives you more than the ability to play an instrument and sing in this case. It'd also let you compose music, know how to market your music, and anything else an Artist would need.
Professions are rated on a scale of 1-5. However, without the use of magic you all are stuck at ratings 1-3 (mainly because above 3 requires having lived for like 100+ years to acquire naturally).
Over these five days you'll be determining what the rating for these professions are for Tibia. She can have two Professions at 1, two Professions at 2, and one Profession at 3. This means that as you make choices the other doors that might be available for you will close.
As to your other choice of Core Expression. These Expressions are those that Tibia will always be able to cast without needing to spend Reserve to do so. Tibia can only have six Core Expressions at a time. These can be changed, but it'll require a lot of time.
Each daytime choice will give you three options for Core Expressions. In the case that you don't like any of these options you can choose the fourth option which will always let you avoid making a choice. If taken you'll instead have a mystery encounter: which for this arc will see me rolling on a secret table filled with the hosts for the many balls of the Endless Marche.
These encounters could help you gain new allies, different Expression options, special tools, or whatever else.
Finally, since we're about to go into our first Conflict, I'll be posting a shortened version of Insight's character sheet. Due to Tibia having such a high Mystery she's naturally able to discern the Core Values, Natures, Tradition, and Expertise of those before her. Provided their Mystery or Trickery aren't higher than her own Mystery rating. So congrats there, she has the built in ability to rate threats!
Anyways, make sure you vote for one of each section (profession and expression). Voting will close tomorrow at 2pm PST. I'm always around if there are any questions to help make your voting lives easier.
Insight of the Twenty-Fifth City (Character Sheet)
INSIGHT OF THE TWENTY-FIFTH CITY
Lore: First encountered at the Grand-Gore Amphitheater, he struck you as a proud one. Proud of the automaton body he made for himself. Proud of the Tradition that empowers him so. Proud enough to insult an audience he's trying to teach and not feel even a bit of shame about it. But gosh, is he pretty as hell (if your teacher's reactions are anything to go by). As for why someone from the Geometer's Guild is all the way out here, well, you have no idea. Just that your teacher found him in the market.
Tradition
The Sacred Geometry
Path: Geometry
Fount: Alchemy
Nature
Communion 2
Industry 5
Mystery 3
Self 4
Trickery 2
War 3
Core Values
Order Above All 3
Transcend Your Limits 5
Education For All 4
Let No One End Your Path 4
Expertise
Merchant 2
Scholar (Alchemy) 2
Theurge (Alchemy) 3
Teacher (Industry) 1
Lore: First encountered at the Grand-Gore Amphitheater, he struck you as a proud one. Proud of the automaton body he made for himself. Proud of the Tradition that empowers him so. Proud enough to insult an audience he's trying to teach and not feel even a bit of shame about it. But gosh, is he pretty as hell (if your teacher's reactions are anything to go by). As for why someone from the Geometer's Guild is all the way out here, well, you have no idea. Just that your teacher found him in the market.
Tradition
The Sacred Geometry
Path: Geometry
Fount: Alchemy
Nature
Communion 2
Industry 5
Mystery 3
Self 4
Trickery 2
War 3
Core Values
Order Above All 3
Transcend Your Limits 5
Education For All 4
Let No One End Your Path 4
Expertise
Merchant 2
Scholar (Alchemy) 2
Theurge (Alchemy) 3
Teacher (Industry) 1
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hmm. On the one hand, Jasmine has a point about how horrible demons can be. On the other hand, the existence of things like a decambion are entirely fucked up. It might be appropriate to have her take up Expertise: Healing and use it as a Core Expression. Tibia is not the kind to harm.
[X] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
[X] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
- Pronouns
- Any/Pronouns
[X] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Healing (Healing Becomes A Core Expression)
[X] "...Visit the medical hall when I have the time." (Gain Expertise: Healer 2)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Dreams (Dream Travel Becomes A Core Expression)
[X] Reveal Insight's Lack Using Dreams (Dream Travel Becomes A Core Expression)
Bless The Rains in the Sovereingty~ - Day 1.3
It was her first time standing on the amphitheater's stage and she felt an urge to run. While the attendance of the daily lectures was never high, she had never realized how many did attend and how hungry the gaze of an audience could be. Her hand groped for aid, but squeezed shut around empty air. It was all on her. She sought out the indignation that had marched her down the steps to the stage ready to take on the world, but beneath the heavy gaze of those perched to best note her failure it had wilted. How fragile spite is as a motivator. So she instead reached for something else, hands in her pocket, and found it. That could work.
"I said there was a simple truth you missed. That in the grandeur of alchemy you had neglected something. That something I name, spirit."
Insight crossed his arms, "Really, that's your—,"
"We save comments for after the lecture, darling." Jasmine said. His hand placed lightly upon Insight's shoulder. The smile on his face a naked dagger for Insight to leap upon if he pushed.
"Thank you, Jasmine. Yes, spirit is what I'll be speaking of today. Under the wonders of alchemy it's well known that you are masters of the physical with your distillations and transmutations. As credit to your Tradition, the spirit is moved in some respect by your work, but movement is not mastery!" Tibia declared.
She let out a breath—eyed the crowd—she was about to state a thesis.
"To master the spirit is to acknowledge that there are things eternal and subjective. Emotions and concepts that exist only beneath the gaze of a soul to perceive them, to define them, ultimately, to wield them. Think of beauty, that dancing maiden and mischievous boy who sends us a chase after the perfect words. Who we see in the eye of our love. A feeling that has existed long before and long hence, but whose true face is unpinnable with the precise hands of material analysis. I look at you, Insight, and I see a man that's chasing beauty but whose own art would hardly let you recognize it. In whose steps are you dancing, I wonder."
Insight's arms lowered as she spoke. His fingers traced the machined curves of his palms. In the gentle examination of self, there was a wanting that Tibia saw. Perhaps her words were more accurate than she thought.
"In truth though, as magi we don't settle for simply philosophy. In that I am in utmost agreement with you. While some would call the Sage's Path one of cowardice, I don't see it that way. I see the same thing you see in yours, a way to transcend my limitations. A way to achieve, Glory!"
She took in a deep breath—the flow was re-aspecting toward her fount, her power. In a few words she shattered ceaseless change and its spiritual emptiness, but instead infused the world with reverence. The song of divine heights and infernal lows dancing upon the flow as signposts to what exists at the end of the road.
"Glory that exists not to mimic gods, but to overtake them! To cast forth my shadow through the blazing majesty of my soul; through a transcendent mastery of spirit. A mastery that makes memories into teacups, dreams into hiking trails, and can provide healing balms to soothe an aching soul."
Tibia's eyes snapped over to a member of her now rapt audience. "Vendetta, Magister of Razor-Edged Dreams, can you join me."
Vendetta took a moment to acknowledge her, so thick was the enchantment her words had upon them all that it was as if waking from a dream. Still, groggy with recognition, he stumbled up from his seat toward the stage. Within three steps he knew how she knew him. It was the same as everyone, he was the poor bastard that had dueled a god and in victory still lost.
He awaited the smirk to appear on her face as she used him to illustrate the failings of a mage. Of one who had spurned the mastery of spirit and paid the price. It would've been plenty factual. Instead, she smiled at him. His mind didn't process why. Then he heard her…
"I want to heal you. If you'll let me?"
So caught off guard was he, that it seemed someone had cursed him. Why else would tears flow so readily from his eyes? People didn't do these things out of any goodness. They drafted contracts with clear terms. Terms they knew he couldn't pay, and all because they didn't want to heal him or couldn't. It was the cost of Sovereign independence for those who did tours in Hell. No one was your master and orders nothing but suggestions that if ignored or spurned would see you bereft of aid. Vendetta had spurned an order and dueled a god, winning after forty days. The reward of such victory, a scar that no army doctor would heal and no medic would waste the flow to address.
He lifted his arm and undid the clasp on his hellbeast-leather gauntlet. The sacred names pressed within saw their light dim as he unsheathed his shame—an arm that burned forever—a Soul-Scar. A murmur spread through the audience like ripples in a pond.
"Please, if you can," Vendetta pleaded.
Tibia went to work. Her time at the medical hall had made her familiar with the subject of soul-scars. A form of potent War magic that combined the insidiousness of a Curse with the naked power of an Energy Wave. The scars were infinite in their possibilities, but the function was the same: to deliver a wound so potent that the soul forgot its old shape. Regenerating the scar over and over again. In most cases they were things magi lived with—unwilling to spend the flow on healing them—and thus common among veterans of the Grand Conquest.
She analyzed Vendetta's arm with her eyes and her Sixth Sense. The flames had made a blackened home of his forearm. Held back at the elbow by Vendetta's fierce will.
"You've been so strong," Tibia said. More tears flowed down Vendetta's face.
When she looked past the flames she could feel the barbs of loathing as phantom pins along her soul. The aspects of this scar were more than fire, they were a loathing as hot and strong as the sun. What Hell god wouldn't loathe us. We had slew their siblings and their lovers. Made slaves of their commanders and concubines. Crowed at our immortality while many having lived a scant few years even on the scale of centuries. Though there was a deeper loathing at play here as the salt of defeat was thick around Vendetta's arm. There it was. This soul-scar wasn't just the normal loathing of the divine for humanity, but the loathing of a petulant bully turned apoplectic at being cast down by his "lesser." The only problem was that beyond the devil's loathing was Vendetta's own. Pumped from his own heart as fuel for the flames was a self-loathing that gone untreated would send his body up as a walking inferno.
In a voice only for the two of them, Tibia spoke. "This loathing isn't good for you. It's only starving your will to fatten the flames."
"I-I know. But I have nothing. I can't hold my wife or husband. Sleep eludes me from the ceaseless crackling of my skin. Any pride I could marshal in my victory, it…" Vendetta trailed.
Tibia shook her head, the solution wasn't pride, but what was? She cast out her Sense in search of something. Nothing in the air, nothing in the stands, but something in her hand… Tibia's Sense had found Love present. The soothing Love of one person supporting another in their time of weakness. A balm to the flame of loathing.
She instructed Vendetta to lay down on the stage. Withdrawing the ritual chalk kept on her person, she began to draft up a series of arcane circles banded in rounded symbols. One circle to isolate the affected area, his arm. A circle around his body to suffuse the local area with Love. Then another circle that she drew on a small slate that she also kept. That she gave for Vendetta to hold above his heart.
She took a step back. Looked at the crowd—they were all leaning forward waiting to see what would happen. They were jackals still, but even jackals know the pain of another's hurt.
"We Sovereigns cherish our independence, more than most I think, but I ask all of you harness the love I know you have. The love of country, of kinsmen, and of a hero who stood before a God and said, 'No more,' before letting their sword fall upon them. If you can find such love, I will appreciate all you can send him."
Tibia didn't expect there to be anyone that would help her. Honestly, she didn't really need it as at this point the diagnosis was sound. It would just be a matter of time. At worst this would be a smattering of hours. Still, she waited, and in that tiny gap between the offer and the attempt came a flood of such intensity that her eyes shot open.
Most Expressions needed little more than a moderate amount of Flow which anyone could generate with focus. What came down upon her was more than moderate—it was the sort of large rush of flow that you'd find at a Leyline. And all of it—aspected toward that love she sought to harness—surged from the stands into her ritual. Not wanting to be wasteful, Tibia took hold of the Flow—wild as it was—and sent it swirling into her circles. Each symbol and line overflowing until they became bands of tangerine light. A light that she conducted up into the air, condensed into a thick cloud, and with a swipe of her arm brought forth The Rains of Love.
Vendetta felt the tangerine "rain" splatter against himself. The fat droplets sizzled and steamed as they brought a loving war to the territory the soul-scar had claimed. For the first time in months, Vendetta's arm felt cool. If he spoke it he would've dragged the word out into a moan. The rain hadn't stopped there as it seeped through his skin into his spirit. Winding down the non-existent muscles of his soul, suffusing every viber, nourishing back the section of himself that had shriveled beneath the soul-scar's heat. Still it wasn't done. The rain kept falling and falling—this cloud a portal to love unending, a love that would never bow to the idea that it might terminate. It was deep love, true love, saved for the best of us and the least of us. For those with the strength to stand without call, and for those that had become prey to the shadow predators that stalked our own minds. This love wound its way through all that he was until it crashed into his heart. Painting the muscle that same gentle tangerine, and soon it pumped that love all on its own. Producing it not from nothing, but the emotive memory of what it felt to receive that love himself.
In total, the ritual had taken an hour. The assistance from the crowd hastening the process. Despite that everyone enjoyed the pleasure of watching someone be loved. It would be two more hours for the rain to end.
Normally the daily lecture would conclude with the attendees off to take part in whatever other affairs awaited them. This day though was different, and so the Sages, then a rollicking crowd, had piled into a luxurious cafe. So high was their mood that they ignored the well-dressed incubi waitstaff that wheeled in towers of mini-cakes, cookies, and a child-sized decanter of perfectly warmed tea. Their conversation spun about like daring dances, from questions for Tibia, for Jasmine, even a few for Insight, before collapsing into shards of micro conversations.
Unfamiliar with the attention, Tibia settled herself on a balcony. She ran her hands over the sleek material—black infernal chitin.
"When I first arrived here, I had to wonder how people who hated demons so much could live in buildings made almost entirely of them."
Tibia looked up to see Insight, his frame softly backlit by cafe candlelight. She smirked.
"First our Tradition and now our architecture? Bold after you just took one defeat."
Taking that as an invitation, Insight settled into one of the balcony chairs. Though his sheer bulk overwhelmed the chair to the point of comedy. Tibia held back a giggle. Insight noticed.
"Bold are we who seek the surmount the vaults of heaven, are we not?"
Insight raised his teacup in a toast that Tibia met with her own.
"True. And, we also think the architecture is weird."
"Really? Its dominance suggests otherwise."
"When you see the look on a foreigners face when their window is a sucking sphincter lined with teeth, well, it sort of becomes worth it. Beyond that you'd be surprised what you get used to when it's all you've known. Look at my house, the damned thing shudders and groans constantly. As a kid my mom had to constantly show me the triple failsafe chain-seals keeping it docile before I could even sleep!"
"And now?"
Tibia sighed, "I couldn't sleep without knowing the big lug was there slumbering right beside me."
Insight sipped at his tea. "I miss the bells."
"They're hardly unique. We have them?"
"It's not the same. The bells of the Guild, they chime for more than the hours. They herald celestial conjunctions, holidays, aspect changes to the local Flow system when necessary, and all sorts of other events. I grew up on a farm, if you could believe it, but I dreamed of the city. Then I arrived and had to live the first three months with earplugs in."
That sent Tibia laughing. She had no idea of what the metal-man had looked like when he was made of flesh, but the image of him even now shoving his non-existent ears in with plugs was priceless. Her laugh was some tinkling kind of thing, similar to the jingle of a bell, light and dainty. But it was infectious, and Insight found himself laughing as well.
Insight continued, "But then I heard the music behind the incessant tolling. They were songs that communicated everything to us. Wordless, instructionless, but still we knew. Somewhere in the…the spirit, we knew."
"Insight, is that an acknowledgement of something beyond the physical?"
"I suppose it is."
There's a silence that joined them on the balcony after he made his admission. It hovered between the two of them, expectant that someone would break it. Insight did first.
Choose One:
[ ] Critical Advantage: You become famous across the city.
"That was profound magic you did back there. It was the kind of stuff that a magus makes a name on. Which, in my experience, means a lot of people will want to make your acquaintance. They might open doors for you, do you favors, or just extend opportunity your way. If you ride the currents of public opinion as well as you run a lecture, then I pity the world that's soon to meet you."
[ ] Critical Advantage: Insight opens his home for you.
"After watching you work, I knew that we were siblings on the path. So, even as our destinations differ, I'd be remiss in not offering my sibling the grace of my home. I can't say when I'll next be in Guildlands, but I'll leave you with my address and a key. Avail yourself of the place whenever you need somewhere to stay. May the Lattice see our paths cross again."
[ ] Critical Complication: Insight swears an oath of collaboration to you.
"I've been on the road for a long time, Tibia, and I thought I had seen all that the Basin had to offer. Yet, I found myself educated by someone I saw as my lesser. It was enlightening to say the least. To witness the curing of a soul-scar of such intensity, the tears that person wept…that was more meaningful than all my self-edifying achievements. Tibia, Princex Supreme of the Three Shadow Peaks, I swear upon my name and nature a binding oath of collaboration. If ever you seek my knowledge or hand, be it in ritual or the tutelage of magics, I shall come to your side such that I might one day repay the lesson you've imparted upon me. This I swear until eternity's end."
[ ] Critical Complication: Insight declares himself your apprentice.
"I find myself shattered, Tibia. In one brief display, my worldview has been upended, my wisdom found lacking, and for such a simple oversight I, well, hardly live up to my name. I barely live up to my years." Insight slides from the chair down to his knees, head bowed. "In light of these recent events I recognize that neither years nor pride nourish the roots of knowledge. Any fruit that is borne is meant for worms rather than to be praised. To combat this, I renounce my rank and titles with the Guild, and name myself the apprentice to the Princex Supreme of the Three Shadow Peaks!"
In lieu of words Tibia drains her cup dry. Then she nods. An acceptance born from the unexpected. It's then that she spots the clock back within the cafe's depths. Two hours 'til the first ball of the season's Endless Marche, and to the fashion conscious Duchess of Nine Knives of all people. She hardly had the time for this.
"Insight, I appreciate everything you just said, but I have to hurry. There's a ball in only a few hours time, and the hostess will no doubt be exacting."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Tibia ponders it for a moment
Choose One:
[ ] "I can already shapeshift, so any way you could hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
[ ] "I can transcend my earthly form, so a ride perhaps?" (Gain Core Expression: Transcendence. Arrive on Time)
[ ] "If you could provide me a device so I might shapeshift, that'd be lovely." (Gain Magical Tool: Shapeshift. Arrive late to the ball.)
[ ] "If you have any methods so I might Transcend my form it would save my night." (Gain Magical Tool: Transcendence. Arrive late to the ball.)
***AN: I hope you all like this update. I'll be providing a spoiler going over just how hard you trounced Insight. As well as what happened with what you performed exactly.
And to give a brief explanation of the diff between Shapeshift and Transcendence.
Shapeshift just changes what you look like. Change face, turn into a squirrel, give yourself four arms and a hundred eyes, all Shapeshift. Though each fount has a bit of an "aesthetic" so to speak.
Transcendence changes what your form is. Want to become a swarm of Tibias connected by one mind, want to become an ethereal being unaffected by physical matter, or transform into a being of pure energy, etc. Well then you want Transcendence baby!
Beyond that, I will close voting for this at 4pm PST on the 9th. Trying to transition to updates every other day so I don't burn myself out.
Happy reading, my lovely magi~
"I said there was a simple truth you missed. That in the grandeur of alchemy you had neglected something. That something I name, spirit."
Insight crossed his arms, "Really, that's your—,"
"We save comments for after the lecture, darling." Jasmine said. His hand placed lightly upon Insight's shoulder. The smile on his face a naked dagger for Insight to leap upon if he pushed.
"Thank you, Jasmine. Yes, spirit is what I'll be speaking of today. Under the wonders of alchemy it's well known that you are masters of the physical with your distillations and transmutations. As credit to your Tradition, the spirit is moved in some respect by your work, but movement is not mastery!" Tibia declared.
She let out a breath—eyed the crowd—she was about to state a thesis.
"To master the spirit is to acknowledge that there are things eternal and subjective. Emotions and concepts that exist only beneath the gaze of a soul to perceive them, to define them, ultimately, to wield them. Think of beauty, that dancing maiden and mischievous boy who sends us a chase after the perfect words. Who we see in the eye of our love. A feeling that has existed long before and long hence, but whose true face is unpinnable with the precise hands of material analysis. I look at you, Insight, and I see a man that's chasing beauty but whose own art would hardly let you recognize it. In whose steps are you dancing, I wonder."
Insight's arms lowered as she spoke. His fingers traced the machined curves of his palms. In the gentle examination of self, there was a wanting that Tibia saw. Perhaps her words were more accurate than she thought.
"In truth though, as magi we don't settle for simply philosophy. In that I am in utmost agreement with you. While some would call the Sage's Path one of cowardice, I don't see it that way. I see the same thing you see in yours, a way to transcend my limitations. A way to achieve, Glory!"
She took in a deep breath—the flow was re-aspecting toward her fount, her power. In a few words she shattered ceaseless change and its spiritual emptiness, but instead infused the world with reverence. The song of divine heights and infernal lows dancing upon the flow as signposts to what exists at the end of the road.
"Glory that exists not to mimic gods, but to overtake them! To cast forth my shadow through the blazing majesty of my soul; through a transcendent mastery of spirit. A mastery that makes memories into teacups, dreams into hiking trails, and can provide healing balms to soothe an aching soul."
Tibia's eyes snapped over to a member of her now rapt audience. "Vendetta, Magister of Razor-Edged Dreams, can you join me."
Vendetta took a moment to acknowledge her, so thick was the enchantment her words had upon them all that it was as if waking from a dream. Still, groggy with recognition, he stumbled up from his seat toward the stage. Within three steps he knew how she knew him. It was the same as everyone, he was the poor bastard that had dueled a god and in victory still lost.
He awaited the smirk to appear on her face as she used him to illustrate the failings of a mage. Of one who had spurned the mastery of spirit and paid the price. It would've been plenty factual. Instead, she smiled at him. His mind didn't process why. Then he heard her…
"I want to heal you. If you'll let me?"
So caught off guard was he, that it seemed someone had cursed him. Why else would tears flow so readily from his eyes? People didn't do these things out of any goodness. They drafted contracts with clear terms. Terms they knew he couldn't pay, and all because they didn't want to heal him or couldn't. It was the cost of Sovereign independence for those who did tours in Hell. No one was your master and orders nothing but suggestions that if ignored or spurned would see you bereft of aid. Vendetta had spurned an order and dueled a god, winning after forty days. The reward of such victory, a scar that no army doctor would heal and no medic would waste the flow to address.
He lifted his arm and undid the clasp on his hellbeast-leather gauntlet. The sacred names pressed within saw their light dim as he unsheathed his shame—an arm that burned forever—a Soul-Scar. A murmur spread through the audience like ripples in a pond.
"Please, if you can," Vendetta pleaded.
Tibia went to work. Her time at the medical hall had made her familiar with the subject of soul-scars. A form of potent War magic that combined the insidiousness of a Curse with the naked power of an Energy Wave. The scars were infinite in their possibilities, but the function was the same: to deliver a wound so potent that the soul forgot its old shape. Regenerating the scar over and over again. In most cases they were things magi lived with—unwilling to spend the flow on healing them—and thus common among veterans of the Grand Conquest.
She analyzed Vendetta's arm with her eyes and her Sixth Sense. The flames had made a blackened home of his forearm. Held back at the elbow by Vendetta's fierce will.
"You've been so strong," Tibia said. More tears flowed down Vendetta's face.
When she looked past the flames she could feel the barbs of loathing as phantom pins along her soul. The aspects of this scar were more than fire, they were a loathing as hot and strong as the sun. What Hell god wouldn't loathe us. We had slew their siblings and their lovers. Made slaves of their commanders and concubines. Crowed at our immortality while many having lived a scant few years even on the scale of centuries. Though there was a deeper loathing at play here as the salt of defeat was thick around Vendetta's arm. There it was. This soul-scar wasn't just the normal loathing of the divine for humanity, but the loathing of a petulant bully turned apoplectic at being cast down by his "lesser." The only problem was that beyond the devil's loathing was Vendetta's own. Pumped from his own heart as fuel for the flames was a self-loathing that gone untreated would send his body up as a walking inferno.
In a voice only for the two of them, Tibia spoke. "This loathing isn't good for you. It's only starving your will to fatten the flames."
"I-I know. But I have nothing. I can't hold my wife or husband. Sleep eludes me from the ceaseless crackling of my skin. Any pride I could marshal in my victory, it…" Vendetta trailed.
Tibia shook her head, the solution wasn't pride, but what was? She cast out her Sense in search of something. Nothing in the air, nothing in the stands, but something in her hand… Tibia's Sense had found Love present. The soothing Love of one person supporting another in their time of weakness. A balm to the flame of loathing.
She instructed Vendetta to lay down on the stage. Withdrawing the ritual chalk kept on her person, she began to draft up a series of arcane circles banded in rounded symbols. One circle to isolate the affected area, his arm. A circle around his body to suffuse the local area with Love. Then another circle that she drew on a small slate that she also kept. That she gave for Vendetta to hold above his heart.
She took a step back. Looked at the crowd—they were all leaning forward waiting to see what would happen. They were jackals still, but even jackals know the pain of another's hurt.
"We Sovereigns cherish our independence, more than most I think, but I ask all of you harness the love I know you have. The love of country, of kinsmen, and of a hero who stood before a God and said, 'No more,' before letting their sword fall upon them. If you can find such love, I will appreciate all you can send him."
Tibia didn't expect there to be anyone that would help her. Honestly, she didn't really need it as at this point the diagnosis was sound. It would just be a matter of time. At worst this would be a smattering of hours. Still, she waited, and in that tiny gap between the offer and the attempt came a flood of such intensity that her eyes shot open.
Most Expressions needed little more than a moderate amount of Flow which anyone could generate with focus. What came down upon her was more than moderate—it was the sort of large rush of flow that you'd find at a Leyline. And all of it—aspected toward that love she sought to harness—surged from the stands into her ritual. Not wanting to be wasteful, Tibia took hold of the Flow—wild as it was—and sent it swirling into her circles. Each symbol and line overflowing until they became bands of tangerine light. A light that she conducted up into the air, condensed into a thick cloud, and with a swipe of her arm brought forth The Rains of Love.
Vendetta felt the tangerine "rain" splatter against himself. The fat droplets sizzled and steamed as they brought a loving war to the territory the soul-scar had claimed. For the first time in months, Vendetta's arm felt cool. If he spoke it he would've dragged the word out into a moan. The rain hadn't stopped there as it seeped through his skin into his spirit. Winding down the non-existent muscles of his soul, suffusing every viber, nourishing back the section of himself that had shriveled beneath the soul-scar's heat. Still it wasn't done. The rain kept falling and falling—this cloud a portal to love unending, a love that would never bow to the idea that it might terminate. It was deep love, true love, saved for the best of us and the least of us. For those with the strength to stand without call, and for those that had become prey to the shadow predators that stalked our own minds. This love wound its way through all that he was until it crashed into his heart. Painting the muscle that same gentle tangerine, and soon it pumped that love all on its own. Producing it not from nothing, but the emotive memory of what it felt to receive that love himself.
In total, the ritual had taken an hour. The assistance from the crowd hastening the process. Despite that everyone enjoyed the pleasure of watching someone be loved. It would be two more hours for the rain to end.
Normally the daily lecture would conclude with the attendees off to take part in whatever other affairs awaited them. This day though was different, and so the Sages, then a rollicking crowd, had piled into a luxurious cafe. So high was their mood that they ignored the well-dressed incubi waitstaff that wheeled in towers of mini-cakes, cookies, and a child-sized decanter of perfectly warmed tea. Their conversation spun about like daring dances, from questions for Tibia, for Jasmine, even a few for Insight, before collapsing into shards of micro conversations.
Unfamiliar with the attention, Tibia settled herself on a balcony. She ran her hands over the sleek material—black infernal chitin.
"When I first arrived here, I had to wonder how people who hated demons so much could live in buildings made almost entirely of them."
Tibia looked up to see Insight, his frame softly backlit by cafe candlelight. She smirked.
"First our Tradition and now our architecture? Bold after you just took one defeat."
Taking that as an invitation, Insight settled into one of the balcony chairs. Though his sheer bulk overwhelmed the chair to the point of comedy. Tibia held back a giggle. Insight noticed.
"Bold are we who seek the surmount the vaults of heaven, are we not?"
Insight raised his teacup in a toast that Tibia met with her own.
"True. And, we also think the architecture is weird."
"Really? Its dominance suggests otherwise."
"When you see the look on a foreigners face when their window is a sucking sphincter lined with teeth, well, it sort of becomes worth it. Beyond that you'd be surprised what you get used to when it's all you've known. Look at my house, the damned thing shudders and groans constantly. As a kid my mom had to constantly show me the triple failsafe chain-seals keeping it docile before I could even sleep!"
"And now?"
Tibia sighed, "I couldn't sleep without knowing the big lug was there slumbering right beside me."
Insight sipped at his tea. "I miss the bells."
"They're hardly unique. We have them?"
"It's not the same. The bells of the Guild, they chime for more than the hours. They herald celestial conjunctions, holidays, aspect changes to the local Flow system when necessary, and all sorts of other events. I grew up on a farm, if you could believe it, but I dreamed of the city. Then I arrived and had to live the first three months with earplugs in."
That sent Tibia laughing. She had no idea of what the metal-man had looked like when he was made of flesh, but the image of him even now shoving his non-existent ears in with plugs was priceless. Her laugh was some tinkling kind of thing, similar to the jingle of a bell, light and dainty. But it was infectious, and Insight found himself laughing as well.
Insight continued, "But then I heard the music behind the incessant tolling. They were songs that communicated everything to us. Wordless, instructionless, but still we knew. Somewhere in the…the spirit, we knew."
"Insight, is that an acknowledgement of something beyond the physical?"
"I suppose it is."
There's a silence that joined them on the balcony after he made his admission. It hovered between the two of them, expectant that someone would break it. Insight did first.
Choose One:
[ ] Critical Advantage: You become famous across the city.
"That was profound magic you did back there. It was the kind of stuff that a magus makes a name on. Which, in my experience, means a lot of people will want to make your acquaintance. They might open doors for you, do you favors, or just extend opportunity your way. If you ride the currents of public opinion as well as you run a lecture, then I pity the world that's soon to meet you."
[ ] Critical Advantage: Insight opens his home for you.
"After watching you work, I knew that we were siblings on the path. So, even as our destinations differ, I'd be remiss in not offering my sibling the grace of my home. I can't say when I'll next be in Guildlands, but I'll leave you with my address and a key. Avail yourself of the place whenever you need somewhere to stay. May the Lattice see our paths cross again."
[ ] Critical Complication: Insight swears an oath of collaboration to you.
"I've been on the road for a long time, Tibia, and I thought I had seen all that the Basin had to offer. Yet, I found myself educated by someone I saw as my lesser. It was enlightening to say the least. To witness the curing of a soul-scar of such intensity, the tears that person wept…that was more meaningful than all my self-edifying achievements. Tibia, Princex Supreme of the Three Shadow Peaks, I swear upon my name and nature a binding oath of collaboration. If ever you seek my knowledge or hand, be it in ritual or the tutelage of magics, I shall come to your side such that I might one day repay the lesson you've imparted upon me. This I swear until eternity's end."
[ ] Critical Complication: Insight declares himself your apprentice.
"I find myself shattered, Tibia. In one brief display, my worldview has been upended, my wisdom found lacking, and for such a simple oversight I, well, hardly live up to my name. I barely live up to my years." Insight slides from the chair down to his knees, head bowed. "In light of these recent events I recognize that neither years nor pride nourish the roots of knowledge. Any fruit that is borne is meant for worms rather than to be praised. To combat this, I renounce my rank and titles with the Guild, and name myself the apprentice to the Princex Supreme of the Three Shadow Peaks!"
In lieu of words Tibia drains her cup dry. Then she nods. An acceptance born from the unexpected. It's then that she spots the clock back within the cafe's depths. Two hours 'til the first ball of the season's Endless Marche, and to the fashion conscious Duchess of Nine Knives of all people. She hardly had the time for this.
"Insight, I appreciate everything you just said, but I have to hurry. There's a ball in only a few hours time, and the hostess will no doubt be exacting."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Tibia ponders it for a moment
Choose One:
[ ] "I can already shapeshift, so any way you could hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
[ ] "I can transcend my earthly form, so a ride perhaps?" (Gain Core Expression: Transcendence. Arrive on Time)
[ ] "If you could provide me a device so I might shapeshift, that'd be lovely." (Gain Magical Tool: Shapeshift. Arrive late to the ball.)
[ ] "If you have any methods so I might Transcend my form it would save my night." (Gain Magical Tool: Transcendence. Arrive late to the ball.)
***AN: I hope you all like this update. I'll be providing a spoiler going over just how hard you trounced Insight. As well as what happened with what you performed exactly.
And to give a brief explanation of the diff between Shapeshift and Transcendence.
Shapeshift just changes what you look like. Change face, turn into a squirrel, give yourself four arms and a hundred eyes, all Shapeshift. Though each fount has a bit of an "aesthetic" so to speak.
Transcendence changes what your form is. Want to become a swarm of Tibias connected by one mind, want to become an ethereal being unaffected by physical matter, or transform into a being of pure energy, etc. Well then you want Transcendence baby!
Beyond that, I will close voting for this at 4pm PST on the 9th. Trying to transition to updates every other day so I don't burn myself out.
Happy reading, my lovely magi~
So, to go over how Conflicts work both in Sorcerously Advanced/in this Quest. When a Conflict occurs both sides are going to be adding their Core Value to an applicable Profession. The found sum then multiplied by the relevant Nature. As seen in the formula below:
(CV+Prof)Nature
You take the difference between the final values of both participants, and compare it to the loser's value. Depending on how that difference compares (is it less than 10%, less than 50%, less than x2, etc.) it determines what intensity of Complication or Advantage both sides take.
Sometimes that simple formula gets slightly altered though, because there are moments when someone uses your own Core Values against you. Which is what Tibia did with her declaration of transcendental ambition. Also, bluntly, Insight is not a master of rhetoric at all. So below you can see just how badly this went for him.
Tibia: (Love is the Greatest Power 5 + Healer 2)Communion 4 = 28
Insight: (Order Above All 3 + Teacher 2 - Transcend Your Limits 5)Communion 2 = 2 (because you can't go to negatives, so the parenthetical was brought to the pitying minimum of 1 for the purpose of calculation).
This level of difference basically net you a victory of No Contest. Which means Tibia takes not complication onto herself, and instead can either gain a Critical Advantage for herself or place a Critical Complication on Insight.
The Advantages are largely things that directly benefit you, but don't do much to Insight's own story thread.
The Complications are more about direct shifts/changes happening to Insight as a person, thus affecting his thread of story.
(CV+Prof)Nature
You take the difference between the final values of both participants, and compare it to the loser's value. Depending on how that difference compares (is it less than 10%, less than 50%, less than x2, etc.) it determines what intensity of Complication or Advantage both sides take.
Sometimes that simple formula gets slightly altered though, because there are moments when someone uses your own Core Values against you. Which is what Tibia did with her declaration of transcendental ambition. Also, bluntly, Insight is not a master of rhetoric at all. So below you can see just how badly this went for him.
Tibia: (Love is the Greatest Power 5 + Healer 2)Communion 4 = 28
Insight: (Order Above All 3 + Teacher 2 - Transcend Your Limits 5)Communion 2 = 2 (because you can't go to negatives, so the parenthetical was brought to the pitying minimum of 1 for the purpose of calculation).
This level of difference basically net you a victory of No Contest. Which means Tibia takes not complication onto herself, and instead can either gain a Critical Advantage for herself or place a Critical Complication on Insight.
The Advantages are largely things that directly benefit you, but don't do much to Insight's own story thread.
The Complications are more about direct shifts/changes happening to Insight as a person, thus affecting his thread of story.
This one is somewhat simpler. When using the Healing Expression you are engaged in a Craft Ritual which at minimum takes twelve hours and requires a minimum of Communion 2 and Healer 1 to heal a Moderate Complication. The amount of time taken can vary off of a few factors.
If the Complication being healed (in this case, Vendetta's soul-scar) are of a higher or lower intensity then the time taken is raised or lowered by 2 steps.
For every point of Nature or Expertise you possess that's above the minimum then you lower the time taken by an equivalent number of steps.
Finally, to keep this brief, spending Reserve, being aided by people, having access to knowledge (like through a little beauty called the Universal Repository which will be introduced later), and other miscellaneous factors I see as relevant can all lower the amount of time taken.
In the case of today's healing, you all lowered the minimum time from 12 hours down three steps (two from higher Communion and one from higher Healer than minimum) landing you at 1 hour. Since the crowd wasn't literally helping you but applying just a lot of flow I had that cancel out the complexity of healing a Soul-Scar which would've bumped it up two steps for complexity.
So, you've all come out the other side with a unique Soul-Scar treatment, The Rains of Love. Whether it only works on that exact type of soul-scar, or more types than just that will remain to be seen. But know that if nothing else you've made something in this world that perhaps others might take up and build upon or refine. In any case, the next time a soul-scar treatment needs to happen and The Rains of Love would apply then I won't have it be a whole ritual. You already devised the treatment.
If the Complication being healed (in this case, Vendetta's soul-scar) are of a higher or lower intensity then the time taken is raised or lowered by 2 steps.
For every point of Nature or Expertise you possess that's above the minimum then you lower the time taken by an equivalent number of steps.
Finally, to keep this brief, spending Reserve, being aided by people, having access to knowledge (like through a little beauty called the Universal Repository which will be introduced later), and other miscellaneous factors I see as relevant can all lower the amount of time taken.
In the case of today's healing, you all lowered the minimum time from 12 hours down three steps (two from higher Communion and one from higher Healer than minimum) landing you at 1 hour. Since the crowd wasn't literally helping you but applying just a lot of flow I had that cancel out the complexity of healing a Soul-Scar which would've bumped it up two steps for complexity.
So, you've all come out the other side with a unique Soul-Scar treatment, The Rains of Love. Whether it only works on that exact type of soul-scar, or more types than just that will remain to be seen. But know that if nothing else you've made something in this world that perhaps others might take up and build upon or refine. In any case, the next time a soul-scar treatment needs to happen and The Rains of Love would apply then I won't have it be a whole ritual. You already devised the treatment.
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- Location
- Germany
[X] Critical Advantage: You become famous across the city.
[X] "I can already shapeshift, any way you can hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
There's something amusing about Tibia spending a significant amount of time locked away in her room, only to make a name for herself the moment she steps outside.
As for shapeshifting, you had me at squirrel. I partially jest, of course, but it sounds like the ability that lends itself to some incredible artistry of the flesh.
[X] "I can already shapeshift, any way you can hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
There's something amusing about Tibia spending a significant amount of time locked away in her room, only to make a name for herself the moment she steps outside.
As for shapeshifting, you had me at squirrel. I partially jest, of course, but it sounds like the ability that lends itself to some incredible artistry of the flesh.
[X] Critical Complication: Insight swears an oath of collaboration to you.
[X] "I can transcend my earthly form, so a ride perhaps?" (Gain Core Expression: Transcendence. Arrive on Time)
As much as I like the fame advantage I'd like to effect Insight's story. Hopefully for the better.
[X] "I can transcend my earthly form, so a ride perhaps?" (Gain Core Expression: Transcendence. Arrive on Time)
As much as I like the fame advantage I'd like to effect Insight's story. Hopefully for the better.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Critical Complication: Insight swears an oath of collaboration to you.
[X] "I can already shapeshift, any way you can hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
[X] "I can already shapeshift, any way you can hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Critical Complication: Insight swears an oath of collaboration to you.
[X] "I can already shapeshift, any way you can hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
[X] "I can already shapeshift, any way you can hasten my arrival is appreciated!" (Gain Core Expression: Shapeshift. Arrive on Time.)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Whatever you think you can write/work with better, I suppose.
Cool cool. I'll probs do that, but as its my first time QMing figured it couldn't hurt to ask y'all. Very excited to do the next update!
In the Viper's Nest - Night 1
"Tibia, if I may, are you sure you gave me the right instructions?" Insight asked.
Equally confused, Tibia re-checked the invitation in her hand once again, but this time she narrowed in on not the address but the time. They had arrived just before the city's Stygian Wolf had released its eighth howl of the evening to herald the moons' rise. Even now they could hear the echo at Viper's home, Starrise Manor which oversaw the lake of its namesake. Still, for a ball of the Endless Marche she had expected something out of her mother's stories. Magi in heavily embroidered robes carried upon automaton palanquins of demon flesh, people in droves stepping forth from Lattice portals as the slight chill from the place between fogs the breath, even at least one person arriving as a dragon before assuming a "proper" form. Yet here she was, the only arrival, it unnerved her to say the least, but better to not waste the Flow it took to get her here.
"If it's not the right place I'll find a way back. Thank you, for the trip and your oath. It was touching," Tibia said.
Insight scoffed, "No need to put emotions into it. You're skilled and it'd be a pleasure to collaborate in the future. Together, even heaven is no limit. Nonetheless, enjoy your evening."
Tibia enjoyed the subtle aspecting of the local Flow towards travel, the rhythmic beat of boots on dusty roads driving toward a far-off horizon, as Insight accessed the Lattice once more. The portal yawned open as he strode upon the bridge connecting him to his destination. She found herself already missing the companionship of her metal-man as she turned back toward the manor. The building itself was relatively squat but undoubtedly sprawling as it was built around the remains of a Heaven-Consuming Hydra. Which, according to legend (and the informational pamphlet on the building that she received upon RSPVing), had carved its way up from Hell into the Basin with the intent to consume the stars. Only to be slain by Viper's great-grandmother, a witch of an unknown Tradition, and who made their estate from the god's corpse. It was the kind of story that was married to plenty of estates belonging to those families whose names were made in the early days of the Gift when all that mattered was pushing back demonic hordes.
Still, for all the stories were common, Tibia found the place intimidating as one of the hydra's three heads formed the main building. Its six cavernous eye sockets gazing down upon her in what she imagined was baleful judgment. She wondered what it was like for Viper's great-grandmother to face off against it with a power she barely understood. She thought of Jasmine's story, of the casual cruelty of demons that had marked him indelibly, and imagined that there might have been no thought at all. They had a task to do and did it. What a privilege she had to ponder its necessity at all. As the chill of night arose, Tibia shook away her ruminations along with her attachment to flesh. Placing a pre-drawn slip of paper on her tongue she let the choir of boreal fire sing in her mouth before she gulped it down. One measure, two measures, a movement of heavenly brilliance washed away muscle, sinew, and bone until all that remained was the purity of her soul. Purity, even as she measured her thoughts and path, her magic would not betray her. Wherever the words came from earlier today, they weren't wrong. A desire of majesty was the character of her spirit, and just for tonight she allowed herself to sink deep within it lest the ego of immortals unravel her fresh confidence.
Unwilling to overthink anymore, the walking aurora borealis that Tibia had transcended into dragged open the doors to the manor. Her head held high as her hair spiraled off in a trail behind her. Into the depths of the beast she delved and found herself met by an unsettling darkness.
"A guest?"
"A guest!"
"Early are they?"
"No, on time!"
"On time is early, Viper says,"
"Early then."
"Eaaaaarrrlyyyyy," the voices whisper in mass.The darkness in front of her shattered into the distinct humanoid shape of besuited shades. They stared at her with their bright moon-yellow eyes. Silence held for a moment before her stillness brought them to boredom and they flitted off to their duties. Some slipped into rooms to pick up instruments as energetic music picked up. While others slid along the walls toward the kitchens as they returned with trays of canapes and slim tubes of pale purple liquors.
"Drink?"
"Treat?"
"No treat! Drink first," one retorted which sparked an argument.
Tibia bid a hasty retreat from the foyer, past a sitting room where shades sawed at stringed instruments, and into some burgundy hallway. There, Tibia found herself drawing in deep breaths even though her current form required none at all. Despite her best intentions, that short interaction had blown through her confidence to reveal a minor truth: she hated parties. Ignoring the issue of crowds, the feather-light dance of smalltalk she was too heavy-tongued for, and the small point issue of the garments being too thin to keep out the night air. What bothered Tibia about them was that she couldn't hide. She was in someone else's space, and once the manor had filled with guests there'd be nowhere to go that wouldn't have her be forced to engage with a person or demon.
She rose from the floor and decided that if she had to be here then it'd be best she stake out a place now. If hiding was impossible then carving out territory for herself was the next best thing. The din of the raucous shades failed to penetrate the sheer silence that guarded the inner depths of the hall. Beneath its ceilings that even Insight, with his eight foot height, would fail to graze there was a mystique that embraced Tibia. Great paintings stretched across the wall, each of them an impression of some landscape that she imagined words would fail to net. Such was the self-referential subject matter that the painters of Glimmermere found inescapable.
Soon Tibia no longer felt the cold touch of quartz on her bare feet, as she yearned for the freedom that likely came from Dream Realm life. Luxury free from slavery's foul bite, the ability to never be more than one thought from an escape, and a people that valued beauty and love. It had to be wonderful. Though with an end to the paintings, so came the end to her thoughts. Unaware of the turns she had made through the estate's winding innards Tibia stood before a set of double doors inscribed with some many-looped knot made of serpents. She let herself become a slim pane of light and slipped past the doors to enter a circular room. Upon four daises stood the nude forms of four women. Each of them in a distinct form combining the arts of Shapeshifting and Transcendence, but all of them bore an uncanny resemblance despite the divergent appearances.
At the sight of the naked women, Tibia threw her arms across her face. Her mind raced at how to salvage the situation. Yet, weak as she was to plush thighs and sultry eyes, the wheels of her mind spun off their axle causing her thoughts to crash leaving their remnants across her psyche.
"I didn't mean…You see I'm not a party…And the paintings were… You're gorgeous."
Tibia wished she was flesh again so she could bash her head in.
"Uncover your eyes. I'd rather have those than deal with your mouth," said a husky voice.
Tibia obeyed and discovered the tan face of a girl smaller than herself. Whose hair was toussled caramel, and barely ate the tips of her ears into its curls. She glared at Tibia past thick tourmaline glasses that deepened the pink of her eyes.
Tibia muttered, "A-are you sure? I wouldn't want to offend them."
"Appreciated," she said before returning to her examination. The girl tugged at the outfits which worked their ways around the girls. "But seeing as they're me, I'd prefer another pair of eyes."
Tibia followed after her, "Who are you, exactly?"
The girls on the dais turned around as the small girl released a hmph, and Tibia felt like the aspect of the moon was thick on the room's flow. Her eyes once again shot to the floor.
"Viper, Duchess of Nine Knives, heir to this old place. Or did the doors covered in snakes not inform you well enough?"
Tibia did her best to focus on the conversation. "Oh, I thought Viper was more, uh…"
"Some tall prodigy goddess that oozed style and class?"
"Yes," Tibia chirped. "So, uh, why are you back here playing with, uh, bodies?"
Viper removed her glasses and let them swing on the beaded chain about her neck. She eyed Tibia like one would a child that simply would not stop running into a glass door.
"Because people like you expect me to be some tall prodigy goddess that oozes style and class. So every function I split myself off, shapeshift the other bodies, and try out looks. Unfortunately, my dear aunts decided to make this a function about shapeshifting and bodily transcendence. Leaving me rather bereft of ideas," Viper hissed.
Tibia's embarrassment melted into a sort of contrition. "I'm sorry. That has to be frustrating. Always forced to be anything but yourself."
Viper shrugged, "Hardly. It's the reward and consequence of fame borne of success. People expect things of you, and as such they aren't afraid to actually help you. Everyone wants to be able to brag about how they patroned one genius endeavor or other. Even if it was only a moderate disbursement of a rare flow-aspect or reagent. Fall short of those expectations and suddenly you're a fake, a plutonic succubus that rode them until they were dry."
"Woah."
"Heh, better to take it as a challenge then I say. See if I can outdo myself one more time. Keep stable the enchantment on my name. Healthier than being bitter about it. Just, I didn't expect that announcing my immortality would make this so much harder."
Tibia glanced to the other Vipers, "Not to sound crude, but they're all gorgeous. Any of them would be a perfect form to attend your ball too."
"Of course. Beauty is easy. These though, they're declarations of intent. With my immortality who do I want to align myself to, and whom do I seek the long-term investment of? Whatever outfit I pick, I'm placing an eternity into the hands of someone."
Tibia looked up at the ceiling. A mural illustrating the emergence of the hydra from Hell with its maw drooling in anticipation at the stars it sought to consume covered the ceiling. She found a kinship with it. Flush in achievement, ready to take to the stars, but doom looming in the wings. Why were they forced to make a choice whose end was beyond vision?
"Why not go it alone? We're to make our soul a fortress, so just reject making any decision."
Viper fell back into a chair that she Conjured up from her shadow.
"Our famous national mantra. Hmph, the principle is sound but the metaphor quickly falls apart. Fortresses, by their nature, are hardly singular existences. Supported by supply chains, aided by garrisons and outposts, they exist within a grand strategic quilt. In this metaphor, society is the supply chain and one's networks the logistical bonds to other structures. All of this is necessary for a soul to prosper."
Viper let her eyes fall on Tibia, and saw her in the way she so often saw people. She was hardly naked, but beneath Viper's clover-pupils she might as well have worn nothing. As no fabric would hide that which made her soul radiant. Such was the strength of this girl—nay, her fellow immortal's incisive perception.
"The lone individual makes a paltry fortress no matter their power. You drink too deep of the insights of Communion, to deny this, and I'd hazard you have bonds for whom you accept expectation from." Viper said, her words stemming from a magus' wisdom rather than the experiences of a woman two years Tibia's junior. Words that summoned forth an image of Jasmine in her mind. Even Insight's face appeared, nascent though their oath and thus bond was.
Tibia felt herself become firm up. She looked back toward the girls, and while pinks bloomed cross her face betraying the deeper interest she possessed she didn't look away. Rather she took in the entirety of their artisanal forms and let an opinion crystallize.
"Can my eyes still help?"
"Please do. While I can't promise much for help, I'm always willing to make an introduction."
Choose One:
[ ] A murder of void crows that provide only the barest hint of a woman in their midst. (Viper introduces Tibia to the intelligentsia of Sovereign society - historians, academics, philosophers)
[ ] A six-armed woman whose flesh is the night sky and is covered in freckles of stars. (Viper introduces Tibia to the travelers of Sovereign society - merchants, explorers, diplomats)
[ ] A four-eyed fox whose seven tails form a rainbow fan behind itself. (Viper introduces Tibia to the secret peoples of Sovereign society - cults, spirits, intelligent magical beasts)
[ ] A woman covered in scales of tourmaline, a crown of horns that uphold a miniature sun, and hands dripping with shadowy blood. (Viper introduces Tibia to the warriors of Sovereign society - mercenaries, soldiers, duelists).
[ ] Send them all! (Tibia convinces Viper to let all of hers take to the party, including the actual her. She monopolizes Viper's time over the night. This will require a Conflict.)
***AN: Still got the update in before the day's end! Anyways, just want to remind that if you choose the option that requires a Conflict, that in most cases you won't be coming away from it perfectly clean like you did with Insight. Meaning you could likely find yourself having a complication placed upon you even as you place one upon Viper (or make an advantage for yourself). Rare is the conflict that doesn't affect all involved. I'm also going to do my best to call out when options will cause a Conflict.
You will get to see Viper's charsheet since you all have high enough Mystery (and she doesn't exceed you or is trying to hide it). Will post that up following this post.
Finally, voting will close Friday at 4PM PST. Happy reading~
Equally confused, Tibia re-checked the invitation in her hand once again, but this time she narrowed in on not the address but the time. They had arrived just before the city's Stygian Wolf had released its eighth howl of the evening to herald the moons' rise. Even now they could hear the echo at Viper's home, Starrise Manor which oversaw the lake of its namesake. Still, for a ball of the Endless Marche she had expected something out of her mother's stories. Magi in heavily embroidered robes carried upon automaton palanquins of demon flesh, people in droves stepping forth from Lattice portals as the slight chill from the place between fogs the breath, even at least one person arriving as a dragon before assuming a "proper" form. Yet here she was, the only arrival, it unnerved her to say the least, but better to not waste the Flow it took to get her here.
"If it's not the right place I'll find a way back. Thank you, for the trip and your oath. It was touching," Tibia said.
Insight scoffed, "No need to put emotions into it. You're skilled and it'd be a pleasure to collaborate in the future. Together, even heaven is no limit. Nonetheless, enjoy your evening."
Tibia enjoyed the subtle aspecting of the local Flow towards travel, the rhythmic beat of boots on dusty roads driving toward a far-off horizon, as Insight accessed the Lattice once more. The portal yawned open as he strode upon the bridge connecting him to his destination. She found herself already missing the companionship of her metal-man as she turned back toward the manor. The building itself was relatively squat but undoubtedly sprawling as it was built around the remains of a Heaven-Consuming Hydra. Which, according to legend (and the informational pamphlet on the building that she received upon RSPVing), had carved its way up from Hell into the Basin with the intent to consume the stars. Only to be slain by Viper's great-grandmother, a witch of an unknown Tradition, and who made their estate from the god's corpse. It was the kind of story that was married to plenty of estates belonging to those families whose names were made in the early days of the Gift when all that mattered was pushing back demonic hordes.
Still, for all the stories were common, Tibia found the place intimidating as one of the hydra's three heads formed the main building. Its six cavernous eye sockets gazing down upon her in what she imagined was baleful judgment. She wondered what it was like for Viper's great-grandmother to face off against it with a power she barely understood. She thought of Jasmine's story, of the casual cruelty of demons that had marked him indelibly, and imagined that there might have been no thought at all. They had a task to do and did it. What a privilege she had to ponder its necessity at all. As the chill of night arose, Tibia shook away her ruminations along with her attachment to flesh. Placing a pre-drawn slip of paper on her tongue she let the choir of boreal fire sing in her mouth before she gulped it down. One measure, two measures, a movement of heavenly brilliance washed away muscle, sinew, and bone until all that remained was the purity of her soul. Purity, even as she measured her thoughts and path, her magic would not betray her. Wherever the words came from earlier today, they weren't wrong. A desire of majesty was the character of her spirit, and just for tonight she allowed herself to sink deep within it lest the ego of immortals unravel her fresh confidence.
Unwilling to overthink anymore, the walking aurora borealis that Tibia had transcended into dragged open the doors to the manor. Her head held high as her hair spiraled off in a trail behind her. Into the depths of the beast she delved and found herself met by an unsettling darkness.
"A guest?"
"A guest!"
"Early are they?"
"No, on time!"
"On time is early, Viper says,"
"Early then."
"Eaaaaarrrlyyyyy," the voices whisper in mass.The darkness in front of her shattered into the distinct humanoid shape of besuited shades. They stared at her with their bright moon-yellow eyes. Silence held for a moment before her stillness brought them to boredom and they flitted off to their duties. Some slipped into rooms to pick up instruments as energetic music picked up. While others slid along the walls toward the kitchens as they returned with trays of canapes and slim tubes of pale purple liquors.
"Drink?"
"Treat?"
"No treat! Drink first," one retorted which sparked an argument.
Tibia bid a hasty retreat from the foyer, past a sitting room where shades sawed at stringed instruments, and into some burgundy hallway. There, Tibia found herself drawing in deep breaths even though her current form required none at all. Despite her best intentions, that short interaction had blown through her confidence to reveal a minor truth: she hated parties. Ignoring the issue of crowds, the feather-light dance of smalltalk she was too heavy-tongued for, and the small point issue of the garments being too thin to keep out the night air. What bothered Tibia about them was that she couldn't hide. She was in someone else's space, and once the manor had filled with guests there'd be nowhere to go that wouldn't have her be forced to engage with a person or demon.
She rose from the floor and decided that if she had to be here then it'd be best she stake out a place now. If hiding was impossible then carving out territory for herself was the next best thing. The din of the raucous shades failed to penetrate the sheer silence that guarded the inner depths of the hall. Beneath its ceilings that even Insight, with his eight foot height, would fail to graze there was a mystique that embraced Tibia. Great paintings stretched across the wall, each of them an impression of some landscape that she imagined words would fail to net. Such was the self-referential subject matter that the painters of Glimmermere found inescapable.
Soon Tibia no longer felt the cold touch of quartz on her bare feet, as she yearned for the freedom that likely came from Dream Realm life. Luxury free from slavery's foul bite, the ability to never be more than one thought from an escape, and a people that valued beauty and love. It had to be wonderful. Though with an end to the paintings, so came the end to her thoughts. Unaware of the turns she had made through the estate's winding innards Tibia stood before a set of double doors inscribed with some many-looped knot made of serpents. She let herself become a slim pane of light and slipped past the doors to enter a circular room. Upon four daises stood the nude forms of four women. Each of them in a distinct form combining the arts of Shapeshifting and Transcendence, but all of them bore an uncanny resemblance despite the divergent appearances.
At the sight of the naked women, Tibia threw her arms across her face. Her mind raced at how to salvage the situation. Yet, weak as she was to plush thighs and sultry eyes, the wheels of her mind spun off their axle causing her thoughts to crash leaving their remnants across her psyche.
"I didn't mean…You see I'm not a party…And the paintings were… You're gorgeous."
Tibia wished she was flesh again so she could bash her head in.
"Uncover your eyes. I'd rather have those than deal with your mouth," said a husky voice.
Tibia obeyed and discovered the tan face of a girl smaller than herself. Whose hair was toussled caramel, and barely ate the tips of her ears into its curls. She glared at Tibia past thick tourmaline glasses that deepened the pink of her eyes.
Tibia muttered, "A-are you sure? I wouldn't want to offend them."
"Appreciated," she said before returning to her examination. The girl tugged at the outfits which worked their ways around the girls. "But seeing as they're me, I'd prefer another pair of eyes."
Tibia followed after her, "Who are you, exactly?"
The girls on the dais turned around as the small girl released a hmph, and Tibia felt like the aspect of the moon was thick on the room's flow. Her eyes once again shot to the floor.
"Viper, Duchess of Nine Knives, heir to this old place. Or did the doors covered in snakes not inform you well enough?"
Tibia did her best to focus on the conversation. "Oh, I thought Viper was more, uh…"
"Some tall prodigy goddess that oozed style and class?"
"Yes," Tibia chirped. "So, uh, why are you back here playing with, uh, bodies?"
Viper removed her glasses and let them swing on the beaded chain about her neck. She eyed Tibia like one would a child that simply would not stop running into a glass door.
"Because people like you expect me to be some tall prodigy goddess that oozes style and class. So every function I split myself off, shapeshift the other bodies, and try out looks. Unfortunately, my dear aunts decided to make this a function about shapeshifting and bodily transcendence. Leaving me rather bereft of ideas," Viper hissed.
Tibia's embarrassment melted into a sort of contrition. "I'm sorry. That has to be frustrating. Always forced to be anything but yourself."
Viper shrugged, "Hardly. It's the reward and consequence of fame borne of success. People expect things of you, and as such they aren't afraid to actually help you. Everyone wants to be able to brag about how they patroned one genius endeavor or other. Even if it was only a moderate disbursement of a rare flow-aspect or reagent. Fall short of those expectations and suddenly you're a fake, a plutonic succubus that rode them until they were dry."
"Woah."
"Heh, better to take it as a challenge then I say. See if I can outdo myself one more time. Keep stable the enchantment on my name. Healthier than being bitter about it. Just, I didn't expect that announcing my immortality would make this so much harder."
Tibia glanced to the other Vipers, "Not to sound crude, but they're all gorgeous. Any of them would be a perfect form to attend your ball too."
"Of course. Beauty is easy. These though, they're declarations of intent. With my immortality who do I want to align myself to, and whom do I seek the long-term investment of? Whatever outfit I pick, I'm placing an eternity into the hands of someone."
Tibia looked up at the ceiling. A mural illustrating the emergence of the hydra from Hell with its maw drooling in anticipation at the stars it sought to consume covered the ceiling. She found a kinship with it. Flush in achievement, ready to take to the stars, but doom looming in the wings. Why were they forced to make a choice whose end was beyond vision?
"Why not go it alone? We're to make our soul a fortress, so just reject making any decision."
Viper fell back into a chair that she Conjured up from her shadow.
"Our famous national mantra. Hmph, the principle is sound but the metaphor quickly falls apart. Fortresses, by their nature, are hardly singular existences. Supported by supply chains, aided by garrisons and outposts, they exist within a grand strategic quilt. In this metaphor, society is the supply chain and one's networks the logistical bonds to other structures. All of this is necessary for a soul to prosper."
Viper let her eyes fall on Tibia, and saw her in the way she so often saw people. She was hardly naked, but beneath Viper's clover-pupils she might as well have worn nothing. As no fabric would hide that which made her soul radiant. Such was the strength of this girl—nay, her fellow immortal's incisive perception.
"The lone individual makes a paltry fortress no matter their power. You drink too deep of the insights of Communion, to deny this, and I'd hazard you have bonds for whom you accept expectation from." Viper said, her words stemming from a magus' wisdom rather than the experiences of a woman two years Tibia's junior. Words that summoned forth an image of Jasmine in her mind. Even Insight's face appeared, nascent though their oath and thus bond was.
Tibia felt herself become firm up. She looked back toward the girls, and while pinks bloomed cross her face betraying the deeper interest she possessed she didn't look away. Rather she took in the entirety of their artisanal forms and let an opinion crystallize.
"Can my eyes still help?"
"Please do. While I can't promise much for help, I'm always willing to make an introduction."
Choose One:
[ ] A murder of void crows that provide only the barest hint of a woman in their midst. (Viper introduces Tibia to the intelligentsia of Sovereign society - historians, academics, philosophers)
[ ] A six-armed woman whose flesh is the night sky and is covered in freckles of stars. (Viper introduces Tibia to the travelers of Sovereign society - merchants, explorers, diplomats)
[ ] A four-eyed fox whose seven tails form a rainbow fan behind itself. (Viper introduces Tibia to the secret peoples of Sovereign society - cults, spirits, intelligent magical beasts)
[ ] A woman covered in scales of tourmaline, a crown of horns that uphold a miniature sun, and hands dripping with shadowy blood. (Viper introduces Tibia to the warriors of Sovereign society - mercenaries, soldiers, duelists).
[ ] Send them all! (Tibia convinces Viper to let all of hers take to the party, including the actual her. She monopolizes Viper's time over the night. This will require a Conflict.)
***AN: Still got the update in before the day's end! Anyways, just want to remind that if you choose the option that requires a Conflict, that in most cases you won't be coming away from it perfectly clean like you did with Insight. Meaning you could likely find yourself having a complication placed upon you even as you place one upon Viper (or make an advantage for yourself). Rare is the conflict that doesn't affect all involved. I'm also going to do my best to call out when options will cause a Conflict.
You will get to see Viper's charsheet since you all have high enough Mystery (and she doesn't exceed you or is trying to hide it). Will post that up following this post.
Finally, voting will close Friday at 4PM PST. Happy reading~
Viper, Duchess of Nine Knives (Character Sheet)
Tradition
Devilpower
Path: Patron
Fount: Glory
Nature
Communion 3
Industry 4
Mystery 4
Self 3
Trickery 3
War 2
Core Values
Transgression 3
Every Soul A Fortress 3
As Famous As My Forebears 5
Death Can Wait 4
Expertise
Artist 5* (Fashion and Textiles)
Historian 2
Gossip 2
Theurge 2
Merchant 1
*Viper has the Expression - Expanded Expertise letting her go past a score of 3 using magic. If not using magic, she'd be at 3.
Devilpower
Path: Patron
Fount: Glory
Nature
Communion 3
Industry 4
Mystery 4
Self 3
Trickery 3
War 2
Core Values
Transgression 3
Every Soul A Fortress 3
As Famous As My Forebears 5
Death Can Wait 4
Expertise
Artist 5* (Fashion and Textiles)
Historian 2
Gossip 2
Theurge 2
Merchant 1
*Viper has the Expression - Expanded Expertise letting her go past a score of 3 using magic. If not using magic, she'd be at 3.