The stars are right, time for a Monty Python reference: "You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!" Friend, with the Doom of the Tyrant we can hardly expect otherwise. At least we don't have the Brand of the Wretched, if a watery tart throws a sword at Seram the odds are good it's an attempt on his life. Dodging Witch-Slayer weapons thrown at hundreds of miles per hour was bad enough, thanks.
"Found a new toy?" Gisena smiled happily as he walked around to her side of the fish.
"No. It clung to me out of nowhere," he deadpanned, running a hand over the scales. They varied in tone and texture, some clacking with the ceramic smoothness of porcelain, while others resembled jewels or gold.
Come on, at least say 'much like you do', you can't just turn down a straight line! It might be wiser to, though, encouraging her is dangerous even if indifference only provokes escalation. Anyway, the King Fish's exterior looks like someone nailed it with the Overwhelm Form and botched a transformation into something Baroque? It has a monarch's trappings and domain, this lake's
huge. I wonder how the ecological dominoes will fall in its absence?
"Such a humble hero," she said, coming to his side. She laid her fingers against his new cloak. Her eyes flashed, changing color, become emerald green instead of blue.
I was wondering about this, glad to see the attention to detail pay off.
"What's that?" He gestured at her face.
"Hm? My beautiful face, of course."
He scowled.
"Oh? Do I have something on my face? This beauty mark, perhaps? It's very fetching, I know."
Gisena's an exasperating person to interact with, but Microwave's depiction of her getting canonized is a nice touch.
"Your eyes. They changed color."
"Huh?" She tilted her head to the side, the picture of perfect innocence. "But I've always had green eyes?"
Oh no you
don't, eye color paranoia can stay in the MfD thread where it belongs! No channeling Mari, Hunger's heart is broken enough as-is.
"Is that so? How mysterious." He turned and began walking to Verschlengorge, but Gisena caught up to him, placing her hands around his own.
Winning move, not to play, etc.
"Sorry, sorry!" She giggled. "You're just too much fun to play with! It's one of my Sorcerous Graces. A type of Nullity that requires close-in work, but can exert very fine control. It comes with enhanced magical senses."
Interesting, Mary-Elizabeth did something similar with her eyes while examining Seram's Amplitude. Is this sort of sensory interface common to all metamagic Graces? Zang would approve; the optic nerve's the highest-bandwidth conduit between brain and world, after all! Speaking of the Enchantress, she got a great deal. 10% of Game of the Year's potential in exchange for a day's work? That's highway robbery, or would be if she wasn't the sole provider of that service.
How much power had she stockpiled over the course of her long life? Seram's would've been much easier with an impartial arbiter between Sorceress factions. The mind of a child may be truly wonderful (according to Yoda, anyway), but why go so far with age reversion? Was it just a way of recusing herself from politics to prioritize her experiments?
Morbid curiosity compels me to speculate about the fate of the AU Manifest Realm, what happened to the counterparts of the people we knew. Was the Crimson cut down by her own obsession with worthy opponents, as she was canonically? That's a lesson we'd do well to heed. Porcelain probably died harder than Bruce Willis. Jeanne... would've fallen in defense of Atraelon, giving everything she had only for that not to be enough. Not a fun thought. But with the orcs united and humanity splintered by Elvish machinations there's only one outcome, as the Oracle predicted.
"Good. Then you should have no problem dressing and studying the fish while I explore the Armament."
She only has one dress, though, how's she supposed to spare another for the fish?!
"Fine, fine! I can tell when I'm beat. Just one thing before you go. Which color do you prefer?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"Mm... Green-eyed monster. It suits you."
"Hmm?" She tapped her lip contemplatively. "That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think? Or perhaps you're projecting? Afraid Zea and I will get too close!"
"Of course. That would be my worst nightmare. Two allies who won't shut up."
"Then you'd better keep an eye on me!" She dragged him back to the fish. "Come, help prepare it! Leave the studying to me. Even with the comprehensive~ defenses of your new artifact, it'd be a shame to inflict my cooking upon you."
At least empirical self-assessment means she's aware of her 'exceptional' cooking skills. Can't help but note she went from accepting defeat to dragging us off to assist with the fish in a short exchange. I'll appreciate that talent for manipulation more when it's not wielded against us. But still,
worst nightmare? Hunger's psyche has far more horrifying material to draw on.
"A terrible cook? And here I thought you were a genius."
"Every genius has a weakness. Mine is that I'm just too humble."
"What happened to empirical self-assessment?"
"Oh, you remembered?" She clapped her hands in joy. "How wonderful! You pay such close attention to everything I say."
Hey, any Tyrant worth their salt has to be aware of - if not necessarily concerned with - the state of their subjects. Can't afford to drop our guard; Hunger sleeps, but the Apocryphal Curse doesn't.
"...Now who's projecting?"
Hunger does a lot of projection! Not that it's a bad thing, the Forebear's Blade is a godsend and I'm glad we took it.
"I can't help but remember everyone's lines! A genius has a genius memory."
The holistic enhancement Sorceresses get is bullshit, not that we have room to throw stones in that glass house. Gisena was smart to begin with (25 Wits to Seram's initial 21), but the +37 transformation bonus sure helps. His LOCKED I was a mind-boggling 27, but we still don't know what either of the LOCKED stats
does, beyond somehow measuring affinity for magic.
The fish was truly a magnificent catch, its flesh utterly delectable and tender, melting in the mouth with a brief contact, but lacking neither substance nor chew. Letrizia brought over cooking supplies from Verschlengorge and they gorged themselves on a spread of different preparations: thick-sliced sashimi; thin cuts honey-glazed and lightly smoked; steaks pan-seared with a salt and pepper crust; and the remains broiled in a bed of spices and green onion.
This reminds me of one of those anime scenes: the characters enter a restaurant and you just
know the animators started JoJo posing and talking about activated trap cards before going full sakuga. Forget the murder mystery or overlord or whatever, you're gonna spend a solid thirty seconds looking at that bowl of ramen or staring deep into a bento box, and you're going to
like it. It works there and it worked here; my stomach started doing its best motorcycle engine impression.
"Mm," Letrizia moaned after taking a mouthful of sashimi. "This is even better than my palace kitchen's! Your skill befits your name, Lord Hunger!"
The Duchess having a palace isn't a surprise, exactly, but it raises my estimate of her importance.
"Just call me Hunger," he said, suppressing a cringe at the appellation. "And it's mostly the ingredients." They'd foraged around the lake bed for the vegetables, which were positively violent with flavor, and the flesh of the fish was succulent enough to fully justify its bearer's arrogance in life.
Don't call it a grave, it's the future you chose. All you can do now is earn the name you've committed to, make it feared and respected across the Human Sphere. Lord Hunger's the sort of title that's either ridiculous or terrifying.
Idly he wondered if claiming the ring's title had affected his cooking in any way. On the run for years on end, he'd developed a competence at preparing his own meals, though his skills in that area paled compared to his wife's.
He stopped eating for a moment, looking into the distance. As Letrizia continued to feast, Gisena intercepted her chopsticks with her own.
I was all set to comment on how his proficiency's a neat perk given the ring's other effects, making him better able to appreciate better meals. But... ouch. That feeling when you step on a mental landmine, partially buried by the accumulation of time and memories but still deadly? Not fun. There's no overt angst, but you can literally read between the lines here.
"Such a spoiled Duchess. Save some for the chef!"
"Bwuht it's soh good!" Letrizia whined, attempting to angle around the Sorceress' guard. Gisena, with superhuman dexterity, was sadly much too agile for her.
"Look what a mess you are! Hmm, is this the vaunted dignity of House Artriez? You've got sauce all over your cheeks! Let me get that for you..."
"Mm! Lemme go! I wanna eat!"
We said Gisena couldn't keep her, but it doesn't seem that instruction was heeded. At least we know Letrizia's surname now. I wonder how well remembered the Amarlt are in the present day, if there are any surviving branches. I'm expecting to be confronted with Ceathlynn at some point, whereupon we'll bitterly regret not choosing her. Some Lesser Remittances not being a conscious choice is interesting. Hunger didn't know we picked Gisena, but Twice-Great's blurb listed paying forward the Accursed's gift as a perk, implying the opposite for Ceathlynn. Does he know of her or Prolessarch's existence?
After their sumptuous repast, Letrizia stumbled semi-insensate into her cockpit to sleep, while they examined the other treasures extracted from the King Fish's corpse.
A pearl the size of a melon that glowed the color of jade, a message wound tightly inside of a bottle, and the enormous crown-like scale that had crested the fish's own head, shimmering menacingly with subdued force.
Can't forget the loot! The pearl seems valuable, perhaps the King Fish pulled a Carcharoth? Ate a Silmaril or other power source of sufficient magnitude and harnessed it accidentally, just by being hardy enough to survive. The message in the bottle's also curious. Could be a plot hook, the Apocryphal Curse's latest attempt at sucker-punching us, or both. The crown-scale sounds like a crafting ingredient to me; it represented the Fish's dominion over its environs, so maybe Hunger can get another charisma boost out of it, another step toward memetic hazard status. I won't be content until Hunger's ability to ad lib life-altering speeches is on Hector's level!
"Good work today!" Gisena patted him on the back. "Go get some rest! I'll show you my notes on everything tomorrow. Sleep in for once?"
"No," he shook his head. "We could be attacked at any time. I'll obtain what power I can from these things before turning in."
"Such a diligent hero," Gisena tutted, eyes soft. "You don't have to push yourself to exhaustion every day, you know! Zea and I are plenty impressed already."
Someone else with the ring might succumb to sloth; when every moment abed's a decadently lazy Sunday morning, 'five more minutes' becomes seductive! Nameless wearing this ring of power would be a catastrophe. But Hunger's more committed than that, so we don't have to worry about will-management or training burnout. Not that we
can train productively at the moment, but that limitation can't be harder to circumvent than a Curse. In the eons to come, I have faith that Hunger'll... find a way.
A long silence stretched between them.
"I'd given up, once." He said. "I was as good as dead. But someone gave me a gift. Something I'd neither asked for, nor deserved. A second chance, and power enough to seize it. I must do everything I can, not just to survive, but to avenge myself upon those responsible for my comrades' deaths. And, to repay the being that made all this possible. How few are given such a chance as that? I couldn't live with myself if I simply..."
This is the difference in characterization between a hero who elected the hard, high road of Progression and a version who went Combat and tapped out. I'd contend Hunger did deserve salvation, after spending so heavily of himself for the good of others, but the conviction and simple gratitude are heartwarming. Hunger's compelling, the furthest thing from a caricature.
"Squandered it?" She finished perkily. "I understand. And that's why you need to rest, Lord Double Standards! I heard you lecturing Letrizia. Then you push yourself to catch a giant fish and forge a new artifact from spirit and will?"
Hey, we didn't get in the giant robot, that's what counts as slacking off by Hunger's standards.
"...It's rude to eavesdrop."
She shrugged. "I'm a noble. It's to be expected."
He scoffed. "Fair enough."
Hunger's subterranean expectations of nobles are always amusing. Watching him collide with civilization will be... entertaining? I'd be looking forward to it if not for the risks, even the slightest wiggle room in the Doom of the Tyrant would be welcome. Thankfully Evening Sky provides ablative social armor in the form of charisma, layered atop the traditional sort.
"Now then..." she raised a hand to her forehead, brow furrowed. "The root of the matter is not that you want to exhaust yourself, nor do you have a problem relying on others. You're just used to always pushing forward and giving your all. Perhaps you used to have much greater power, and could easily withstand such a punishing pace?"
"Hmph." Perhaps she was right, not that he would admit it.
Looks like our decisions have had implications for Hunger's character. He admitted going after the King Fish was a bad idea immediately after catching it, that the diversion ran counter to the purpose of this stop in the first place, but he was caught up in the moment. Carp
e diem, as they say. The ring's psychological effects might deserve partial blame, but Hunger and the ring are no longer discrete entities.
"In that case, the solution is simple! Until you've regained your former might, let us help you more. The being that saved you, he didn't do it for free, right? You're burdened with something. A form of metaphysical doom, beyond that suspiciously convenient 'Affliction' that you share with Letrizia's robot."
It's not that suspicious, since we know that our Curse load-out determined the insertion point. I'd call it a favor from the Accursed, but from Gisena's perspective Hunger's probably pretty concerning! Especially earlier, on the heels of her encounter with a different Hero, before she got to know him.
"Four in total," he admitted. "The Decimator's Affliction, The Tyrant's Doom, The Geas of Indenture, and The Apocryphal Curse. Even so, a small price to pay..."
"Supernatural Curses? And you haven't asked this friendly Nullity to help you?" She pouted. "Fully resolving them may be well beyond my power. But I can at least take the edge off!"
"You were clearly aware of their nature already. Perhaps I was waiting for you to volunteer, if you were capable of doing something. We don't all have such comprehensive insight into our compatriots' powers."
It's a fair point, not like asking Gisena for help is a painless experience, though we'd have bitten the bullet eventually. This is a nice scene, the river of exposition flowing in the other direction for once. I'm glad we got to see both halves of the Knowledge vote play out on-screen.
"You overestimate me," she demurred, adjusting her hair with a finger. "Well, let's do this: tell me how you understand your Curses. I'll get right to work... as long as you promise to rest immediately."
Her only fault is that she's too humble! At least she's sticking with this flaw for a while. Actual concern for Hunger's well-being's a good sign too, even if it is cloaked in manipulation.
"Fine. If you also promise not to throw any shoes at me for a month."
You could say the shoe's on the other foot now.
She raised her fingers. "Maiden's honor! How smooth, extracting so great a concession just so I can do more work for you..."
Partial mitigation of the Allrian Affliction for a month, eh? Hunger's really on top of this Curse business.
"You're one to talk. As for the Decimator's Affliction, your eavesdropping has covered it. I've got it suppressed for now and for a few weeks after."
He cleared his throat, and continued.
"The Doom of the Tyrant. It forbids me from acknowledging or obeying any external authority, law, rule or custom. The Geas of Indenture. It casts me from world to world, imposing tasks I must fulfill. Here I am to conquer the Human Sphere within the next two millennia. Finally, the Aprocryphal Curse... Have you ever heard of the malediction, 'may you live in interesting times?'"
Thankfully Letrizia's already asleep, or I'd be worried about eavesdropping being a two-way street. She's been amicable so far, a valuable source of knowledge and transportation, but I doubt she'd be so sanguine about our ultimate objective. Laying this all out is useful, at least now someone else knows the constraints we're working under.
She shook her head. "No, but I think I understand. A Curse that can essentially do as it pleases to complicate your life, hm? How dangerous. I always knew you were trouble!"
"Actually I'm Hunger. Miss so-called genius."
Gisena laughed. "Whatever happened to your real name? Burned it away for a moment of power?"
"Yes."
"...Thought so," she said quietly.
I suppose she'd know all about sacrificial techniques, what with her attempted assassination and the ultimate ability we saw in AST 1.0. Mass dispellation even on the brink of death, the supernal scoured from the world as far as the horizon. I'm not sure it was even possible to win that fight without losing half our Amplitude, Seram may have been screwed as soon we elected not to go all 'Wound That Walks' and sound the retreat.
Her fingers gently grazed his cheek, turning his face to hers. Her eyes were the green of deep ponds. Moonlight invested them with flecks of blue and gold.
"What are you-"
"Sssh. I'm examining your Curses. It's a very delicate procedure, so please stay still! Wouldn't want your powers to be amputated."
A cutting choice of words when talking to an amputee. We don't know the story behind Hunger's maiming, but his backstory's a fractal rabbithole of trauma, becoming more horrifying the more we learn of it. At least he's got good synergy with Vitalism if we ever encounter the Spiral. Strong thematic backbone for a budding Edifice, lots of pre-sacrificed organs. With the Terrascape Form we could become the Fisher King in truth!
Skeptical, but unwilling to countenance the risk, he did so. Long moments passed. He didn't remember slipping into sleep, or the airy softness of his cloak around him.
I'd be concerned with the dubiously-necessary soulful staring, but honestly it's just good that our man's finally getting some rest. His panoply's very comfy; the ring boosts visceral pleasures and now we have the night sky literally draped around our shoulders.
1757 words for
a futile attempt to save up for an EFB-alike the war chest. Also removed line separators, updated the index, so on and so forth.