Dear reader! Whether you are new here, archive-reading and whatnot, or you are already someone who has been with us for quite a while, I would like to say a few words that I believe are best kept close to mind.
-This is an MLP quest. And more importantly, none of us are gratuitously cruel. So good things will happen on this quest, and I hope that enough good things have already happened to prove that.
-This is also a horror quest, so bad things will happen. Bad things might happen to good characters if you are not able to protect them, and you most certainly will not be able to intervene if you lack the tools to do so.
-And finally, this is a quest in which you jostle with powers greater than yourself, with all that it entails.
Please, do keep those things in mind as you go forward. But ultimately, this is also a quest in which it is hoped we all have fun! So if any of the above points is not exactly your cup of tea, or somehow make the experience as a whole "not worth it", then this quest might not be for you. Which is fine! Individual tastes are a thing, so don't think any more about it if you don't want to read anymore. And regardless, I hope you have a lovely day!
Readers should take their own mental health into consideration when voting and not subject themselves to triggering narrative elements like rape or constant mental torture of a friend just for the Greatest Good of a world that doesn't exist.
If those are fine for you or Regrettable is even more triggering, then GREAT! More power to you. But you aren't a bad or selfish person for picking the option that keeps the characters you've emotionally connected with safe. [REDACTED for spoiler warning]
This is a high intensity quest that doesn't hold back when it comes to horror and negative consequences. Take care of yourself.
There is clear evidence that "you can always be deader" - it is a quote.
There is a clear evidence that death and "losing altitude" are at very least closely interlocked phenomena.
There are mentions that the dead go down unless they go up, and that even Hours can die and go down.
There are mentions that nowhere is cold, dark and miserable realm.
"Death is down"
I guess you can argue that Nowhere and Glory aren't Hour independant, but it would lead to strange conclusions, especially with stuff like Worms being similar but not the same as Moth and Winter. Plus, at least in this quest Worms are all but explicitly stated to be Hour independant (or maybe, maybe sustained by Wolf but it's not better).
I guess it isn't quite a proof, but is this that big of a jump?
Look, when I've argued for a point of canon I've tried to give the complete actual quotes and where they come from rather than just repeating my interpretation of them. Can you please do the same?
Look, when I've argued for a point of canon I've tried to give the complete actual quotes and where they come from rather than just repeating my interpretation of them. Can you please do the same?
Anyway, in some of those, there's underlying. All of it is mine.
All dead Hours are going Nowhere:
Recitation of Lost Hours (fragmentwintere):
Six are gone. Five came from Stone and one from Light. All went to Nowhere. Still their memories have power, and now we call upon it. [Use this in a Rite with Martensite Paste and an assistant dedicated to Knock - or other resources of equal power - to summon a Maid-in-the-Mirror.]
Dead, as a rule, descend:
The Deepening Twilight (long.executestrategy.dreams.poisonpassionwithdread.continue)
In my dreams I see the staircases that go ever downwards, into the place the Dead go as the world turns.
Death is Down (dream.ghoul.sacrificeabilities)
Beyond the door, a winding stair lit by black nephrite lamps, and far below, the place called Nowhere where the Dead drift down, where nothing is exactly forgotten. Down I go.
preach.heart:
'In the House of the Sun, the dance of the angels of Glory does not cease. Those who were cast down, wave or wound or snow, are gone from the House, and as long as their parts in the dance are filled, they may never return. Therefore let us join hands, and add our little steps to the dance.' [The deeper the Lore, the greater the chance of Exultation.]
Even a Diarist equates downward motion and death (and presumably a Long knows what he's talking about):
A Dream of the Diarist (diarist.defeated)
The sunlight through the western window in the Scriptorium is failing. As the Diarist writes his last entry, the chamber chills from gold towards grey. He closes his little book with a snap. 'Death is down,' he explains, 'and I am already losing altitude. I don't bear you any grudge. I tell you what, though, I hope your Illuminated One trips and falls down the Ascent.' The Diarist's face is erasing itself, like a man unwriting, and his eyes are already gone. He hands you his little book. 'This is your last chance. You can go where I was, or where you're going. I know which is better.' His mouth spools itself up like the undrawing of a zip, and he is blank white paper. [If you consider the dream of the diary, you can break free of your Mentor.]
Nowhere does, indeed, has a special significance: (This one was from Q&A in discord, link is to a fan compilation, I hope it is good enough of a source.) Link:
Q: Did the first God-from-Nowhere appear before, after, or during the killing of the Gods-from-stone?
A: Nowhere has always existed, and one quality of Nowhere is that it always contains the Gods-from-Nowhere.
You can always be deader:
Major Forge Victory (majorforgevictory)
The Savage Door is an old wound, and it does not open easily, but once again it opens. Even the Gods-from-stone employed it, and how many before them? Our Shaper passes both the Door and the Gate, and is become a Name of the Forge, and a single place has opened in the ranks of the Long. It is not for me. I am Nowhere. Nowhere is lit by lamps of black nephrite. In Nowhere, we hear the voices prophesying. In Nowhere it is very cold. But it is always possible to be deader. [Congratulations on a major victory. Perhaps one in twenty players ever achieve even a minor victory: fewer still rise this far. We, and Janus, salute you.]
Not all dead stay after the White Door. Some are recorded to go to the Woods, completely naturally.
White Door (mansus_whitedoor)
Some Dead are lost in the Wood, some rise higher, but many - so many - pass the White Door into the House, and become silent forever. Last night they thronged the entrance. Our mouths were healed wounds. Their eyes roamed my skin. Their hands sought my warmth, but my touch burnt, and they drew back. Their urgency infected me.
Read 'The Rose of Hypatia' (studyroseofhypatia):
'Not all the Dead enter the Mansus by the Winter Door. Not all the Dead enter the Mansus at all.'
Cemetry (location.cemetery)
In the waking world, as in dreams, the dead are most often found below.
And we know that the Dead go ever downwards. There are not many places lower than the Wood.
None of it is proof. None of it conclusive, and not all is stated in one place. Nevertheless, if you follow the logic presented, can you draw other conclusions that going Nowhere is at least an ever-present possibility?
And there's always an ending. Given enough time, won't that possibility come to be?
And yes, indeed, the general death and death-by-Worms are probably not the same thing, at least subjectively. I've acknowledged that before, and I'll do so again. One is probably much more painful, at least.
As for statements not mentioned in the last post but nonetheless touched by me, that the dead Hours no longer counting as Hours, from promotional materials:
Weather Factory on Twitter:
Hours are the incarnate principles of the world. There may only ever be 30 Hours. Some began as humans; some came from very different places.
We also can currently count 30 Hours without the Dead ones, all slots are filled (0-XXI 'real' Hours mentioned in game, the Snow, the Giribrago, Blackbone, five Hours-from-Nowhere and the Chandeler).
Do you want me to elaborate on something else? I'll try to present either the exact quote where I derive it from, or the series of quotes I base my ideas on and how I came to the position I am currently at.
Or I'll accept that I was wrong and/or unfounded, I am not so arrogant to think that I can't misremember or confuse the sources.
Anyway, in some of those, there's underlying. All of it is mine.
All dead Hours are going Nowhere:
Recitation of Lost Hours (fragmentwintere):
Six are gone. Five came from Stone and one from Light. All went to Nowhere. Still their memories have power, and now we call upon it. [Use this in a Rite with Martensite Paste and an assistant dedicated to Knock - or other resources of equal power - to summon a Maid-in-the-Mirror.]
Dead, as a rule, descend:
The Deepening Twilight (long.executestrategy.dreams.poisonpassionwithdread.continue)
In my dreams I see the staircases that go ever downwards, into the place the Dead go as the world turns.
Death is Down (dream.ghoul.sacrificeabilities)
Beyond the door, a winding stair lit by black nephrite lamps, and far below, the place called Nowhere where the Dead drift down, where nothing is exactly forgotten. Down I go.
preach.heart:
'In the House of the Sun, the dance of the angels of Glory does not cease. Those who were cast down, wave or wound or snow, are gone from the House, and as long as their parts in the dance are filled, they may never return. Therefore let us join hands, and add our little steps to the dance.' [The deeper the Lore, the greater the chance of Exultation.]
Even a Diarist equates downward motion and death (and presumably a Long knows what he's talking about):
A Dream of the Diarist (diarist.defeated)
The sunlight through the western window in the Scriptorium is failing. As the Diarist writes his last entry, the chamber chills from gold towards grey. He closes his little book with a snap. 'Death is down,' he explains, 'and I am already losing altitude. I don't bear you any grudge. I tell you what, though, I hope your Illuminated One trips and falls down the Ascent.' The Diarist's face is erasing itself, like a man unwriting, and his eyes are already gone. He hands you his little book. 'This is your last chance. You can go where I was, or where you're going. I know which is better.' His mouth spools itself up like the undrawing of a zip, and he is blank white paper. [If you consider the dream of the diary, you can break free of your Mentor.]
Nowhere does, indeed, has a special significance: (This one was from Q&A in discord, link is to a fan compilation, I hope it is good enough of a source.) Link:
Q: Did the first God-from-Nowhere appear before, after, or during the killing of the Gods-from-stone?
A: Nowhere has always existed, and one quality of Nowhere is that it always contains the Gods-from-Nowhere.
You can always be deader:
Major Forge Victory (majorforgevictory)
The Savage Door is an old wound, and it does not open easily, but once again it opens. Even the Gods-from-stone employed it, and how many before them? Our Shaper passes both the Door and the Gate, and is become a Name of the Forge, and a single place has opened in the ranks of the Long. It is not for me. I am Nowhere. Nowhere is lit by lamps of black nephrite. In Nowhere, we hear the voices prophesying. In Nowhere it is very cold. But it is always possible to be deader. [Congratulations on a major victory. Perhaps one in twenty players ever achieve even a minor victory: fewer still rise this far. We, and Janus, salute you.]
Not all dead stay after the White Door. Some are recorded to go to the Woods, completely naturally.
White Door (mansus_whitedoor)
Some Dead are lost in the Wood, some rise higher, but many - so many - pass the White Door into the House, and become silent forever. Last night they thronged the entrance. Our mouths were healed wounds. Their eyes roamed my skin. Their hands sought my warmth, but my touch burnt, and they drew back. Their urgency infected me.
Read 'The Rose of Hypatia' (studyroseofhypatia):
'Not all the Dead enter the Mansus by the Winter Door. Not all the Dead enter the Mansus at all.'
Cemetry (location.cemetery)
In the waking world, as in dreams, the dead are most often found below.
And we know that the Dead go ever downwards. There are not many places lower than the Wood.
None of it is proof. None of it conclusive, and not all is stated in one place. Nevertheless, if you follow the logic presented, can you draw other conclusions that going Nowhere is at least an ever-present possibility?
And there's always an ending. Given enough time, won't that possibility come to be?
And yes, indeed, the general death and death-by-Worms are probably not the same thing, at least subjectively. I've acknowledged that before, and I'll do so again. One is probably much more painful, at least.
As for statements not mentioned in the last post but nonetheless touched by me, that the dead Hours no longer counting as Hours, from promotional materials:
Weather Factory on Twitter:
Hours are the incarnate principles of the world. There may only ever be 30 Hours. Some began as humans; some came from very different places.
We also can currently count 30 Hours without the Dead ones, all slots are filled (0-XXI 'real' Hours mentioned in game, the Snow, the Giribrago, Blackbone, five Hours-from-Nowhere and the Chandeler).
Do you want me to elaborate on something else? I'll try to present either the exact quote where I derive it from, or the series of quotes I base my ideas on and how I came to the position I am currently at.
Or I'll accept that I was wrong and/or unfounded, I am not so arrogant to think that I can't misremember or confuse the sources.
Okay, I do see your point. I was aware that dead Hours go to Nowhere, as does the player character in the major Forge ending, but I wasn't aware of regular people ending up there after dying normal deaths and it sounds like that actually happens quite often. Still, the Worms seem rather less impressive if they "just" inflict the same destruction as the ordinary passage of time or any number of mundane forces, and likewise the Wolf Divided's hatred of existence would be much less if it could be satisfied "merely" by moving things to Nowhere. (This is general problem with having a Realm of Destroyed Things, it changes too many basic things around destruction)
Okay, I do see your point. I was aware that dead Hours go to Nowhere, as does the player character in the major Forge ending, but I wasn't aware of regular people ending up there after dying normal deaths and it sounds like that actually happens quite often. Still, the Worms seem rather less impressive if they "just" inflict the same destruction as the ordinary passage of time or any number of mundane forces, and likewise the Wolf Divided's hatred of existence would be much less if it could be satisfied "merely" by moving things to Nowhere. (This is general problem with having a Realm of Destroyed Things, it changes too many basic things around destruction)
First, yes, you'll go there sooner or later, but people tend to worry a lot less about things that will happen centuries or even millennia later. In fact, it is entirely possible that for the most people the current order of Hours will fall sooner that they will naturally drift that low - or, rather, it will be the fall of the current order of Hours that will push them down. Timescales, as far as I am aware, are not at all mentioned, and judging by the fact that the White Door is the main congregation of the Dead, "Blank Plains" of the CS are at least significantly better at keeping people at their level compared to the Wood.
It doesn't matter in the context of the Wolf because His victory condition is destruction of everything, which logically includes all the stuff that keeps you from going Nowhere, but in most situations Nowhere is far, far in the future.
Second, remember who attests the danger of the Worms. For such people as Long, Names, Hours - even to Know, to a lesser degree - who do not plan to die at all, Worms represent the threat because they will kill you right now, and they will kill everyone.
Worms are horrifying, but they are horrifying in the exactly the same sense as the setting is horrifying, because what they do is stripping all of those "quality of life" improvements that the Gods built, but in the setting where Gods are not immortal, well, an equivalent apocalypse, if not for the whole world then for you, personally - it is all but inevitable.
Even hours struggle to fight Worms to say that they are weak, is just wrong, the Coronal is notable for being able to 1v1 worms and win. And yes the wolf ending is better then the worms getting in. The Wolf will just kill you, the worm will make you deader forever.
Even hours struggle to fight Worms to say that they are weak, is just wrong, the Coronal is notable for being able to 1v1 worms and win. And yes the wolf ending is better then the worms getting in. The Wolf will just kill you, the worm will make you deader forever.
Oh, no one calls the Worms weak. Just less horrifying in comparison.
Also, if the Wolf will win, then there's little, if any difference. Without the House and/or Harmony, without something to hold onto "deader forever" is what will await even on relatively short timescales. Shorter than usual, at least.
Simply because that's natural state of affairs.
Although, based on what we've seen the Mother of Wolves does not involve the Wolf winning all the way, so yes, it is a better ending.
Even hours struggle to fight Worms to say that they are weak, is just wrong, the Coronal is notable for being able to 1v1 worms and win. And yes the wolf ending is better then the worms getting in. The Wolf will just kill you, the worm will make you deader forever.
to be fair, we don't know if they make a distinction of the "stage of growth" of the Worm.
lesser worms seem to insta-die in the presence of alicorns (and their doors) in the dream realm. Does that imply they're that much better suited to fight Worms than Hours, or just that these worms specifically are really really weak?
We know that a sufficiently strong worm was capable of ambushing and capturing/infesting a(n admittedly very tired) Luna...
To be honest, we can say that CS!Worms were likely at much later "stage" in general, because the Worms did have the strength to penetrate into the Wake. They have overrun an entire History!
If the Lionsmith was capable of crushing those Worms, that would be much more impressive.
Of course, it is not exactly clear what is comparative strength of the wards on Wakes in this quest and in canon CS. Yes, in quest the Hours are indisposed, but the Harmony exists, while in CS "In the current History at least, there is no indication that these Protections have been performed regularly for at least the last thousand years."
What is more powerful, irregular protection or Harmony is an open question. Presumably the first, because irregular or not, it was at least ~20 Hours interested in not having to deal with the Worms, while one of the quest endings is adding just one Hour, but that's still only a presumption.
What is more powerful, irregular protection or Harmony is an open question. Presumably the first, because irregular or not, it was at least ~20 Hours interested in not having to deal with the Worms, while one of the quest endings is adding just one Hour, but that's still only a presumption.
Though that would be a very dedicated Hour. Whose main reason for Ascension was to deal protect the Wake from the Worms.
And it could be a combination thing, a very dedicated Hour doing the protections and working with Harmony against the worms.
For this crossover we have no idea how effective the Hours were against the worms in comparison to Harmony. Is it like canon CS, where there have been multiple Worm Wars and they lost one so thoroughly they cordoned off the entire History with the power of the Horned Axe? Are they still to blame for the Worms becoming an overwhelming problem in the first place, by their breeding in the corpses of slain Hours? Who knows?
The only thing we know for sure is that one Worm got into the Wake under Harmony's watch and was promptly contained and then later destroyed.
I don't recall any mention of Discord, or anything of his shenanigans, so I'm guessing he's still in the garden no?
Also, I don't know about the Master looking for Discord, but I was under the impression that the Master is currently expiring all her Suspicious cards after the guards 'busted out' Twilight.
Or well, her Mystiques, since the Bureau has yet to exists.
Also, I don't know about the Master looking for Discord, but I was under the impression that the Master is currently expiring all her Suspicious cards after the guards 'busted out' Twilight.
The Master left before we murdered our way into gaining custody of Twilight. We have no clue what they are doing? Maybe they got caught in Discord's pluder-vine trap? Maybe they were checking the wards and found that they needed to stay and do maintenance after Harmony's sabotage? Who knows?
The statue is missing. We have no idea where it went or if it was moved or if Discord broke out a bit early and decided to fuck off or something weirder. Given it's discord it's impossible to rule anything out. Literally.
It would be funny, but unlikely to happen, I think.
Speaking of the Master, that's another reason we should really work on Name Friendship Quests once Luna is back. The more Names we permanently have on our side, the safer we'll be when the Master inevitably pops up again with their Shenanigans.
...I wonder if we can find some excuse to drag Luna and/or Cadance along on the Frangiclave expedition. An ex-cultist, two Names, and an Alicorn walk into an bar expedition together...
The author does not intend to (and should not be interpreted as intending to) break the site's Terms of Service or site rules at any point.
None of the above subjects are condoned, glorified or encouraged by the author, and their presence in this story is purely for narrative purposes.
If you do not wish to be exposed to any of the subjects cited above, you should STOP READING IMMEDIATELY.
- - -
- - -
- - -
Regarding the Cult:
[X] "I also have too much to lose, and I was here for the Master. If she is gone, then I have no reason to be here as well." (You have left the Cult immediately, exacerbating panic. Windy Flakes has also left the Cult.)
[X] You will talk to him, with more than just words. And suddenly, he will lose interest in his own question. None of this matters. All that matters is that his beloved sister is back. (You will Leash Captain Shining Armor).
Regarding Cadance's offer:
[X] Accept the Offer (You will lead the Lunar Bureau)
You are Velvet Covers.
And you have just finished hosting a Princess.
Princess Cadance teleported away from your estate just yesterday, and her Royal Guard escort finished packing up and leaving early this morning.
But much to your surprise, you are currently dealing with certain… problems.
Because sure, you realize that your estate had been a hive of activity while Cadance was here. And that was only natural, given the mare is a Princess, and doubly so given the suddenness of her visit. However, you also thought this atmosphere of… tension, would have dissolved from your home the moment the alicorn left.
And yet it didn't.
In fact, this last night was far from peaceful. This one night, between Cadance's departure and the Royal Guard's exit in the following morning, was strangely tense.
Nothing really happened. Or at least, nothing really happened in the main house. But still, you could feel in the air this strange… pressure. Like a sharp smell that tickled at your Edge-sensing nose, or like a calm that preceded a storm.
And even though nothing happened in the main house, you also have no idea about the rest of the estate. Because your Edge-senses definitely don't reach as far as the adjoining buildings, for example, and the farmlands around your properties are also a lot larger.
So you have no idea of why… so many maids stayed the night, for example. Or why the Royal Guard decided to stay an entire night before leaving. Or why Ponpon is so angry as she talks to you right now.
"Are you quite sure this is necessary, Ponpon?" you say, as you look down at the several documents Ponpon has brought you.
"Absolutely, ma'm. And trust me, I am being very lenient with them," she says, her words uncharacteristically poisonous.
Because Ponpon is mad. More than mad, she is furious. And she brought you no less than seven missives that she wrote, giving out punishment to several maids, that she asked you to sign. The punishments went from a bad mark on future references all the way to unpaid leave.
Of course you asked her why she was asking you to sign those punishments. But the scowl the maid gave you was so strong that you decided not to pry.
After all, Ponpon is your head maid, and you trust her. Besides, she is also a friend, as much as she likes to keep your relationship professional. So, given how distressing and infuriating the context behind these punishments seem to be, you decide that it is better not to pry.
She wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't absolutely necessary, you think.
You hope…
Still, you sign the missives and float them back to her, which she tucks into her uniform without ceremony.
"Thank you, ma'am. This will teach them to respect this house," she says.
And you once again bite down your tongue, to avoid asking her what the hay she is talking about.
Also, is that a tinge of Grail you smell…?
"Anyhow, there is one last maid problem I would like to discuss with you, ma'am," she says. That is, until she furrows her eyebrows, thinking on her words for a few more moments. "Although this isn't really a problem. And I don't really think it is about a maid. Not anymore, at least."
Under normal circumstances you would have raised an eyebrow. However, the particular way Ponpon worded it makes you immediately understand what she is talking about.
Or rather, who she is talking about.
"Yes. Her," Ponpon says, nodding at your expression, as she also realizes you understand what she means. "And like I said, ma'am, it's not a problem. But it is something I would like to clear up with you? Especially so I can clear it up with her? Not that she asked any questions or the likes. But still…"
Ponpon trails off. But there isn't really any need for her to say anything else. You understand.
Because she is asking, of course, about Soft Sweeps.
After all, the young mare herself is not a problem. But her situation is problematic, to say the least.
And the pegasus is, technically, a maid. But from Ponpon's words you can see how that is changing from an official employment to an informal arrangement.
These last few days you have seen her in her maid dress, going about her responsibilities and taking care of the fillies.
But well…
Is she doing that because she is a maid? Or would she continue to do that even if she wasn't wearing the uniform?
Is she still your employee? Or should the mare be free to do whatever she wants?
And furthermore, where does she… lives? From what Ponpon told you, she has been sleeping in the estate ever since Ponpon was indisposed following her unfortunate nervous episode. But Ponpon is all better now, and the rush of activity is over with Princess Cadance's departure. Will Soft go back to sleeping at Ponpon's residence?
Is that what she wants?
If you are to be absurdly honest, you already have an answer to all those questions. You already know how you feel about Softy, and where you stand when it comes to her.
But that's the thing about it. That's the crucial detail you can't overlook. Those are your answers, not Soft's.
"It's just that the last week passed by in a blur, ma'am, with all the stuff leading to the Princess' arrival. And it got even more frantic during her stay," Ponpon says, voicing the same thoughts you have in your head. "But still, this is the kind of thing I need to sit down and talk to Soft Sweeps about. And the way I see it, delaying it won't do anypony any favors."
You nod at her. Because of course she is right.
Softy needs to be sat down and talked to. Because her life has been so dreadfully turbulent these last few months that you are sure she is just taking things one day at a time. Still, it's high time somepony talked to her and anchored her in place.
There is only one thing you don't agree with Ponpon, when it comes to what she just said.
"You're right Ponpon. But if you don't mind, I'd rather be the one who talks to Soft about this. I'll wait a bit more for the dust to settle, but you can leave this to me."
Ponpon gives you a knowing smile, as if she had been expecting you to say that.
"Understood ma'am, I'll leave that to you. Just let me know once it's settled," she says with a short bow, making her way towards the door right after. "Now, if you will excuse me."
With that, the maid leaves. Leaving you alone in your office.
Which suits you just fine. You have plenty of affairs to get in order, so you can begin your night with a clear, focused head.
- - -
You went about your day with as much normalcy as you could muster.
You did the things that needed doing. You said the words that needed saying. You took care of your mortal affairs.
And when the sun set, you put your daughters to bed and excused yourself into your own room.
But for all that you tried to focus on your waking life as you lived it, you couldn't really give it the entirety of your attention. Not today.
Not knowing what you will do tonight.
Because most days, you don't really think about the Mansus. Not really. In fact, some days you even hate the Mansus. You hate what it stands for, and the dangers that lurk in it, and the fact that you can no longer sleep without feeling its invitations.
Most days, you can live a normal life. In the Wake. With your family.
But today was not one of those days.
Because the entire day, you knew… you knew what awaited you.
Throughout the entire day you knew, that you would face its dangers, and that you would explore its secrets, and that you would strive to climb higher. And not because you are being forced to do it. Not because somepony else is commanding you to. But because you want to. After all, even though you know doing it is a necessity, you still… you still…
Throughout the entire day, the whole world felt dull. The sun felt less bright, and the colors less vibrant.
Because all you could think of was the light of Glory.
And now, you are finally here.
You crossed the crossroads and you braved the Woods and you climbed the Plains and you found the correct stairs. You stepped over the disgusting consequence of your regrets, and you marched on and on through the only way that is left upwards.
You went higher and higher, until twisting path became narrower and narrower, so marred with cracks and so full of flaws that it only exists because the Mansus is still there.
Until you reach the place you are right now.
The Ruined Church stands before you. And for all that you have no idea of when you first thought of that name, you suspect that it was whispered to you by the Mansus itself. Still, regardless of its origins, it does feel fitting.
After all, the great castle-like structure is indeed ruined. There is no other way to describe it.
It is enormous, topped with curved towers and with tips of ruby. The side that is facing you is a great mud-red wall, dotted with mosaics that are still beautiful and luscious even though most of them are at least partially damaged.
It is leaning awkwardly to the side, as if it is floating. Kept in place by the unbreakable fact that it is now part of the only way forward. Meaning that if it ever were to fall down, the path would be broken, and Glory would be unreachable. Which is, of course, impossible. So, the Ruined Church stands before you, nestled in your way, inviting you to its depths.
And almost tauntingly, the Glory seems to be positioned right on top of it. Barely concealed by two of its tallest towers. As if telling you that you will reach closer to it only if you cross this place.
So, cross this place you will.
Like a moth drawn to the flames, you make your way to the Ruined Church. All to get closer to the Glory that lies beyond it.
- - -
[Mansus Expedition: The Ruined Church]
The path of Mansus-stone that leads to the Church is narrow. Perhaps only wide enough for two ponies to walk side by side, and even then only if they brush their flanks against each other.
But you are here alone, so it is more than wide enough for you.
As you approach the side of the Church, you can finally see where exactly the path leads you. After all, for all that the Church clearly fell down from above, its fall was far from gracious. The great structure is not only tilted, but you also cannot see its front from the path you are on. Instead, the side of the Church now dominates most of your view, from how close you are to it.
And sure enough, the path leads straight to one of its many shattered mosaics. Your way into the Ruined Church, it seems, will be through a broken window.
At first, you feel like a thief. Like a burglar sneaking into a holy place in the dead of the night, driven by your own ambitions and selfish desired.
As you get closer and closer to the Church, however, your perception changes. Because the Church… it is not only inviting, but you can feel now that it is also…
It is also inviting you.
You are still walking on the Mansus-stone path. You aren't even close to the Ruined Church yet. But even now, you can already feel it. You can feel this… this thick, pleasant, alluring scent coming from the broken window at the end of the stone path.
Even this far away from the Church, you can already tell that its insides… they are thick with this smell… with this seductive presence that is…
… covering it like a fog…
… and caressing your ears…
… and whispering for you to come closer…
… and telling you that it will share so many secrets with you…
-and trying to drag you into its thirsting maw-
-you snap out of your thoughts, a frightened gasp escaping your lips as you realize what almost happened.
Because you are… you are almost at inside the Ruined Church.
As you look down, you realize that you have already reached it. You could have sworn that a moment ago you were still far away from it, walking down the path of Mansus-stone.
But as you shake your head, you realize that the broken window is now right in front of you. In fact, as you look down, you realize your raised foreleg was about to take that final step.
You realize you were about to step into the Ruined Church… you realize you were about to step on a very sharp edge of broken mosaic.
You take a step back, your heart hammering inside your chest even though you know this is only your dream-body.
But still, as you retreat from the broken window to inspect it from a bit further away, you finally notice something… disturbing. Even if, in hindsight, it should have been obvious.
The window that will take you into the Church is broken. That much is obvious. You can see it is a broken mosaic, and you can tell from its still-standing corners that it must have depicted a pony at some point… or perhaps many, engaged in an activity of sorts.
However, even though you knew it was broken this whole time, you only now realize exactly how it is broken.
Because the few shards of colored glass that remain… they also seem to be shaped in a certain way. Like rows of jagged surface, that remind you too much of a carnivorous plant, or perhaps the open jaw of a waiting predator.
A chill runs down your spine as you understand that you almost stepped on one of its waiting teeth. And you immediately realize that this place, this entire building even, is alive. It is a predator, and above all else it is a place that thirsts.
This, you know, was already the first of its attempts to drink from you. And you haven't even taken a single step into its depths.
So, you know that it will be the height of foolishness to enter it with unguarded senses.
This place, you know, is both devious and seductive. It will try to fool you, into spilling your blood unwillingly. Or, it will try to convince you into giving yourself by your own choice.
Consequently, there are two ways for you to enter it. You can either attempt to see through it and navigate through its lies and invitations, or you can ignore them altogether.
And you already know which option is the one that suits you best.
You take in a long, deep breath of the Grail-heavy mist that wafts out of the broken window. It enters through your nostrils like an eager guest and makes itself at home within the lungs of your dream-body.
You then hold your breath.
You hold your breath, as the fog makes a nest inside you. Confident that its presence inside of you is a mark that you are now under its thrall.
And you hold your breath, as the fog tries to creep out of your lungs and into the rest of your body. First through its promises, then through its caresses, then with everything else it has.
And you hold your breath, as the fog begins to tremble inside of you. As it realizes that your body is getting colder and colder. The confines of your lungs feeling more and more like the inside of a coffin.
And you hold your breath, as the fog begins to claw at your guts. Desperate to escape. Frantically trying to break out through the closed mausoleum door that is your throat.
You hold your breath, until the fog dies. Asphyxiated in snow and Winter.
Only then do you breathe out. And when you do, the dead Winter-fog covers you like a drape. Hanging around you like a grizzly trophy. Tucked around you like a skin, that you stole from a half-dead creature that made the mistake of crossing your path.
With that done, you finally step into the Ruined Church.
And as you walk over the sharp edges of the broken window, stepping hoof on the blood-red marble of the floor, the Grail-mist recedes. More than that, it takes two steps back for every one step you take forward. Giving you a wide berth, as you march into the Ruined Church wearing the carcass of its former kin.
The whispers of the Church will not bother you anymore.
[Success]
However, as you look around, you realize you have another problem.
Namely, you have no idea of what direction you should go.
The Ruined Church is large. Not as large as the Mansus, of course. And perhaps not as large as the appetite of its original inhabitants. But it is large nonetheless.
You are also acutely aware that you are, right now, inside a dream. Even if that dream is also the Mansus. So, you cannot fool yourself into thinking that this place would extend you the courtesy of keeping its interior unchanged.
Because sure, its interior might not change at all.
But it might also change every time you wake up.
Or perhaps, it might even change while you are looking. Like a lascivious pony taunting you as it slowly changes its garments in front of you.
Still, you only know two things about this place. The first being that it has already tried to harm you. And the second being that you don't know everything else.
However, as you look around you… you slowly begin to realize something.
Because this place is old. Very old.
After all, you have just entered through a broken window. You have entered through a broken window, and you are now inside a long corridor that stretches in both directions. But everywhere you look, you can see signs of damages.
The nearby doors that dot the corridor are all cracked, the walls are peeling off, and you are sure that you can see a hole on the floor, further down the corridor.
It is obvious that the powers that be, which kept this place alive and lush, are long gone.
So maybe… just maybe…
You might be able to add to the damage and create a path of your own.
But you also notice something else.
You also notice that this place is beautiful.
Not only that. It is both beautiful and somehow familiar.
It is old, for sure. But the mixture of age, beauty, and familiarity are all mixing in your mind to create the acute sense of…
Of melancholy
And you realize that you know this place.
The floor under your hoofs, even though it is hard and red marble, is lukewarm. It is lukewarm like the memory of an embrace, or a hug that still lingers against your coat.
The columns that flank the corridor, cracked as they may be, as still topped by wide arches. Some of the arches, you can see, still have the sculpted faces of ponies. They still look happy, as if remembering the great and beautiful things that have walked under their gaze.
Heavens, you can even… you can even see it on the walls. Because even though their colors are faded, you can still see that at some point they had been painted and beautiful. So beautiful, even, that no pieces of art had ever been displayed on them. But only because the walls had once been works of art themselves.
And as you look around you, you slowly piece it together. You slowly manage to describe this sensation that you have, in a deep and forgotten corner of your mind.
Everywhere you look, you feel like you are gazing at…
You feel like you are gazing at an aged lover.
You can see damage, of course, but that damage feels like mere wrinkles. Wrinkles of age, under the eyes of one who has looked at you tenderly for a very long time.
You can see how its colors have faded fades. But only like the fur of a pony's coat, that has become lighter with the passing years. And even that just helps to accentuate the vivid memory of how it looked long ago, in better days.
So, even though you have no idea where you should go right now, you immediately know where you would have to go… back then.
And as you walk down the long corridor, turning around corners and passing through rotting wooden doors, you feel more like you are retracing your steps.
Because even though you have never been here, you still feel like you have been here just yesterday.
After all, these halls… this entire place, its construction drew inspiration from the hungers and thirsts that reside within every pony. And even if several Eras have passed, you know those desires have remained mostly unchanged.
Consequently, you can see a map of this place just by looking inside yourself.
[Success]
- - -
You have been inside the Ruined Church for a very long time now.
You have no idea how long it has been, and you know that only a single night will pass in the Wake.
But you are not in the Wake. Not yet, or perhaps not anymore. And within the walls of the Ruined Church, you can feel that time acts… differently.
Because this place still remembers. It still carries the echoes of its past like a precious treasure, or perhaps a private memory.
At some points, you think you are in the past. You can hear sounds and murmurs and laughter from beings that you know don't exist anymore. At some points, you even hesitate before turning a corner, because you are intimately sure that you will witness walk into an ongoing scene of indecency if you walk too rapidly, or if you open a door too quickly.
However, this place has also been… alone. This thirsting, wanting, living place has been alone and empty for far, far too long. With nothing but its own desires, and the memory of its previous inhabitants, to keep it company.
And as you make your way deeper into the Ruined Church, you begin to see the… signs, of that isolation.
The change was subtle, never sudden. It mounted upon itself the deeper you went. It gave you yet another sign with every passing corridor, but always in a subtle way.
It was like watching the color red very slowly change its tone, only to realize several hours later that you are now looking at something orange.
It was like walking deeper and deeper into a cave, only to realize several hours later that the light is now so dim that you can barely see.
Because you saw love, and then you saw joy, and then you saw desire and then you saw need and then you saw…
Well, now you realize you are surrounded by obsession. And after an entire era of maddening dryness, after millennia having nothing to satiate itself with, you can now see that this place finally sunk its teeth into itself. Cannibalizing its own thoughts, hunting down the echoes of its own pleasures, just to be able to taste something again.
And as you hear the guttural sound of something moving, you realize there is something else here with you.
You have no intention of staying here to discover what made that noise.
You make your way deeper into the Church. And even though you know the direction you must go, you still feel like you are walking in circles half the time.
The walls and the corridors and the stairs and the doors, they all twist around you. They twist before your very eyes, and you know this is not trick of the mind. The guards around your senses are still holding strong.
So, you realize it is the Church itself that is warping around you, and not that your thoughts are being warped by its influence.
Still, this only makes your current predicament more frightening.
Because you are now inside the mind of something very old. Something very old, that has gone insane from millennia of unfulfilled desires. And in its insanity, it has created its own dreams and nightmares to keep it company.
And those nightmares, those many-limbed, thrashing, reaching nightmares are nearby. Maybe they have already caught your scent, and are writhing their way towards you. Maybe they aren't even aware that you are a living pony, and would treat you as they would each other.
Both options, you know, would involve a very unpleasant fate.
But for all that you can hear them, you can tell they are still far away… relatively speaking.
So, you could try and cut your way through the erratic thoughts of the twisting corridors, or you could try to run through them.
As you hear a sucking, giggling noise coming from nearby, seeing a shadow stretch for way longer than it should from behind a corner, you quickly elect to do the latter.
You shut your eyes, knowing that within the Mansus you will only see the darkness of your own eyelids, and you begin to run.
And you don't open your eyes until you can't hear them anymore. Until you can no longer hear the giggles and the moans and the drooling and the sound of something trying to run with fifteen legs that all crawl in different directions.
At some point, you come upon an unusually lush place. You pass by a door that is unusually well-kept, considering it surroundings, and that feels like it wants to share with you more than it wants to take from you.
You would have missed if you had been paying less attention. In fact, you almost missed it. But the door spoke to the Influence you carry inside your heart, and you heard that part of your soul respond to it as if they shared a particular appetite. And it was only thanks to that conversation you overheard that you decided to stop. It was that sudden, unexpected exchange of pleasantries that made you stop, and finally notice the nearby door.
And as you enter through the door, you find yourself inside a clean room. With a bed at its center, and several soft cushions laid on the floor in an orderly fashion, no doubt for an audience. The strange, if unsurprising, mixture of a bedroom and a shrine.
But on top of the bed, you find a vial. Inside the vial, a dark liquid.
That liquid might have bestowed immortality, in a brighter age. But nowadays, you know it only has unparalleled sweetness.
Still, you tuck it away in a corner of your soul. And you know you will be holding it on your hoofs when you wake up.
[Extra event successful]
- - -
You sit down on the hard marble floor. Breathing in gasps even though you know this isn't air. Feeling exhausted even though you know this is a dream.
But you are not exhausted in the mundane, physical way. You are not feeling like this because you have walked a long distance, or because you ran from things you are glad you didn't see. You don't feel tired in your body, because you know your body is currently on your bed, inside your room, within the comfort of your estate.
No, you are tired because you have been here… for a very long time now.
At first you thought it was just some kind of mental exhaustion. After all, it makes sense that your dream-body would draw its stamina from your mind, rather than your physical abilities. It made sense, when you first began to feel this way, that you were getting tired because you have been focused for too long while inside a dream.
But as you kept going forward, you realize it wasn't just that.
No, it's this place… the walls and the light and the very air around you. It is feeding on you. Every second you spend in this place, it is feeding on you. Even from the smallest interactions you make with this place, even when you do something as simple as look at its walls, it is drinking from your attention.
It is slurping down, deeply and greedily, even from the mere contact that your hind is making with the floor. You don't even know how to describe this… this faint yet all-covering desperation that you can feel from this place. You don't even know if it has a name.
You don't even know if this deep, microscopic leeching that you feel around you even should have a name.
However, you know this will be over soon.
Because you are almost there.
You finally got your bearings. And after making your way through the chaotic center of the Ruined Church you finally found your way to its exit.
You found the arteries that would guide you to the heart. You found the throat that would take you to the mouth. And by following the corridors that became wider and grander, you are finally here.
You stand before an archway-topped door, made of reflective metal and engraved with flowing symbols. And even though the door before you is magnificent by itself, you realize that it is only a side-door. You know that this is only a lesser passage, that was used by lesser servants who were meant to remain unseen.
However, even though it was used by lower creatures, you still know that this door is magnificent because of the place it led to. Because of the room that is beyond it.
After all, the Ruined Church was once a place of worship. A place where Grail was enacted and celebrated.
And if this place was a Cathedral, then you know this door will lead you to its central nave. If this place was meant for adoration, then this door will lead to its greatest sanctum.
You immediately know all of that, just by looking at this door.
And the moment your hoof touches the cold-and-warm metal of the doorknob, you feel your senses being assaulted by…
The greatest hall of the long-lost Red Church greets you.
And even though this was the entrance hall, you still feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Perhaps even satisfaction. Because even though this was the first place that a pilgrim of the old Mansus would see, you know times are different.
You know this. And the Red Church, now the Ruined Church, knows it as well.
So, as you step into the unfaded eminence of an older era, you feel what is almost a physical presence bathing you in return.
Because this place still remembers. It remembers what it saw, and what it felt, and all the acts that were done under its roof and upon its rosy altar. It remembers all of that, and it exults in the fact that you are now here to remember it as well.
Because almost nowhere else was the Grail so celebrated. And almost nowhere else is it so vividly remembered.
And as the first mortal pony to step hoof here in so long, those memories wash over you almost with rabid eagerness.
And you muster just enough willpower to not lose yourself in it.
[Success]
The light of Glory shines into the great hall. Tinged with the hues of love and want from the colored windows.
And most of all, its light shines in unobstructed through the wide entrance doors.
Because you can see it, now. You can see it right there. The great double doors, which were once the ancient entrance of the Church, are wide upon. And the Mansus stretches beyond it. The only way forward continuing out of it like a paved road, leading the way upwards to the higher levels of the Mansus.
You finally made it.
[All hurdles have been overcome. Expedition successful.]
However, you also realize that…
… you are not alone.
You have Leashed Captain Shining Armor. Your personal file has been updated to reflect that.
It was a crevice, or maybe an opening, or maybe something much more private and intimate. Still, you found your way into it, and brought its secrets back with you. You have found a Level 4 Grail Reagent.
The Ruined Church is old, but in its distant past it has witnessed the quenching of many a great thirst. And that history is still echoed in its halls, even if only as a whisper. In listening to that whisper, you have gained one scrap of Grail Lore.
The Ruined Church is old, and its present reflects the only possible end it could have met. Indulgence was pursued to the point of obsession, and now it is infested by chaos. In witnessing this fall, you have gained one scrap of Moth Lore.
You have successfully completed the Mansus Expedition "The Ruined Church". You are now able to safely traverse the Ruined Church.
You have traversed the Ruined Church, but much of its depths remain unexplored. You are now able to further explore it through another Mansus Expedition "Into the Depths of the Ruined Church".
The next section will be short, but it warrants its own update. It will be finished soon. Unless I either fall asleep or decide I want to review it with fresh and well-rested eyes.
Well, we're not dead yet. Or even injured. On the other hand, we burned both our SH and our Winter re-rolls, so if whatever comes next needs either of those we may be in trouble.
