Starting Over in the Empire of Islands

Welcome, pilgrim, to the southern frontier of Kailukari, the Empire of Islands, where land grows sparser and sparser between ever-increasing stretches of stormy blue. On the spine of this remote and unpopulated island, a stone temple perches on a mountain slope, above trackless jungle gorges. Pillars carved in the form of winged serpents surround cliffside meditation plazas, and devotees sleep in chambers hewn straight into the rock. Pilgrims come – despite the distance – to seek a certain resolution to their troubles. This is a place where the world may forget you, and in turn, you may forget the world.

A common reason for joining a monastery…but, no, this place offers a more literal version of that. For many years now, a master of Soul Evocation has resided here. This man has formed a blade, flawless and absolute, as the means by which his soul can touch the world. The blade cuts memories – such is the true expression of his soul, the unique magic he wields.

For those who wish it, the master offers a fresh start. Escaping pain, regret, failure, or heartbreak, they make the journey to this island, climb the mountain path, and stand a night of vigil in the shrine. Then they awaken in a nice, calming room…

"…And that takes us up to where we are now," finishes the priestess. A woman with a round-cheeked, sunny smile, you suspect that she is used to using that cheery disposition to calm recently treated 'pilgrims'.

Like yourself, you suppose. Heaven above, it's so strange not being able to remember anything. You try to swing your legs out of bed, but she wags her finger at you.

"Don't be in such a rush! You ought to take a few more minutes, just to make sure you're all right. And drink something, too." She points to a clay bowl next to you, filled with clear water and floating slices of lime.

Still disoriented, you meekly comply. The priestess bustles around, still talking, "Not too many come to seek Master Kan's solace – that's no slight, understand, but simply an observation. One or two every year. But right now we have three pilgrims present for, I believe, the first time ever. Why do you think Heaven would guide three new lives to start at the same time and place?"

You have no idea, but you don't think she actually expects an answer from you. The water is so cool and, thirstier than you realized, you finish all of it. Grateful, you put the bowl back on the floor, and look up to see the priestess has returned. She's holding a polished bronze mirror.

The face you see is not one whose name or history you can describe, but at the same time, it is not…unexpected. Like the face of the coffee-seller on a street you pass daily, never looked at for long, but still, in some inaccessible corner of the mind, logged and remembered. Asked a minute ago, you would not have been able to describe the details of your own face. Still, as you rediscover yourself in the mirror, it is a relief to see everything the way it is supposed to be.

[ ] You are a woman of middle years, with handsome, regal features and striking green eyes. Your dark hair is shorn close to the scalp in the fashion of a penitent – not neatly, either, which irks you. Your hands are smooth and well-cared-for, with nails that still bear some flecks of paint.

[ ] You're a man – and an albino, wow. Young and beardless and ridiculously pale. A scar twists through your left eye, violet clouded over by white. You preen until that eye is mostly covered by your shaggy bangs, then grin at your reflection. Mmm, that's more like it.

[ ] You are a woman, perhaps in your late twenties. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin – all of you seems very ordinary, which is probably for the best. Your hands bear thick calluses and bruised nails; your arms are stippled with scars from fire and blade.

[Hello everyone! It's been a while since I posted something. I'm trying to get my creative juices flowing again, with a simple narrative quest in an original setting.]

Name: Deo

Gender: Male

Age: ~21

Skills
Thievery - C: You are familiar with all the common ways people protect their riches, and the appropriate countermeasures to each. You suspect some of your skill was lost with the memory-knife, but you still have quick fingers, a light step, and (most of?) your old instincts.
????

Soul Evocation
Taking the form of a small thirteen-wave kris with striking patterns and a silver handle, your soul-blade has power over vision. All the magic it can perform stems from that theme.

Heat Vision: By painting blood over his eyelids, Deo gains the ability to see sources of heat, radiating their own special light. This spell lasts until the blood is removed.

Possessions
Writing-box
Holy symbol of Riung
Lockpicks
Letter from your old self

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This is a narrative quest. No math and no dice rolls will be used to determine the course of events. However, for the sake of bookkeeping (and the warm and fuzzy feeling of getting more power), your character's skills, possessions, and special abilities will still be recorded on this post.

Skills are ranked as follows:

S – A genius found once in an age, or perhaps a case of divine intervention. Capable of performing deeds that will live on in legend.

A – A master at the peak of their art. People will go to great lengths to obtain such a person's services, and other practitioners dream of becoming their apprentice.

B – An expert, capable of easily dealing with mundane challenges and open to tackling the exceptional. Capable of innovating in their field.

C – A practitioner of some skill. They know all the basics, and some things beyond that.

D – A novice. Mundane tasks are still a challenge for them. They are prone to making mistakes and running up against gaps in their knowledge.

E – A complete beginner. Perhaps they've read a book on the subject, or something.

Plus (+) and minus (-) are used to denote comparative levels within a skill rank. As your character gets reacquainted with old abilities, or develops new ones, new skills will be unlocked. Skills can also be upgraded by practicing them, or seeking out teachers.

You spend some time gazing at yourself in the mirror, fascinated by a face that is at once extremely exceptional and completely expected. You also need to get your hair just right. The long bangs are a little finicky – should you trim them? Or is there something else you would normally do? You need to ask the temple's inhabitants how you were wearing your hair when you arrived here.

Eventually, you achieve a satisfactory degree of roguish dishevelment and mysteriousness. Your left eye is almost completely covered, which is fine because you can't see out of it very well anyway. Just fuzzy colors. You throw the mirror a few experimental grins and glares; your eyebrows do a full workout through their range. You need to reacquaint yourself with the face you show the world.

It's a nice face, too. You'd call it the most handsome face you've ever seen, but – while true – that's not a very impressive title at this juncture. A hand on your shoulder awakens you from your thoughts, and the priestess hands you a satchel.

"These are your possessions, pilgrim. I think there's a letter in there for you." Her cheery demeanor has changed to solemnity. "Rest here as long as you need; after that, the path is yours to determine. Follow the Devas and go with Heaven, young man." She leaves you alone.

The first thing you unearth from the satchel is a carved onyx talisman, sewn into leather. It makes you smile with irony. 'Go with Heaven,' she said? Well, it seems you follow the one Deva who has nothing to do with Heaven. In your hand, two grinning bats circle a moonstone. It is a symbol of Riung, the Elder Brother, who is transgression, disorder, and darkness. You turn it round and round, considering what to do with this thing, at once sacred and profane – when your fingertips catch on a ridge that should not be there.

From a concealed pocket, you extricate several shaped wires. They are lockpicks, for the sort of delicate artisan mechanisms favored by those with a lot of money to lose. You doubt such a lock exists anywhere on this island, but even so you laugh and favor the talisman with a kiss, your earlier hesitance forgotten. You see it now – any right-thinking person would avoid handling a symbol of Riung, for fear of bad luck. A good way to keep your tools from being confiscated.

[Skill Unlocked: Thievery! Currently at rank C]

You dig deeper, eager to see what other treasures you have left yourself. There are clothes, candles, some cosmetics, a box of candied ginger – delicious – and a string of silver coins. A writing-box, too, lacquered with a scene of a city harbor at night. High-quality work, and, from the bat silhouetted against the moon, you suspect it was a custom job. Inside you find paper, reed pens, and inks in red and black, all situated in neat little compartments. The top sheet of paper has writing on it; this must be the letter that was mentioned.

Don't panic.

If this mind-mage is everything he's supposed to be, you must be very confused at this point. I, Deo, am writing this letter to myself to answer some of your burning questions.

Your name is Deo. Your family is none of your concern – they kicked me out at such a young age I've managed to forget all about them without magical help. The scar is from a rock someone threw at you about ten years ago, back before you figured out that begging is a dismal and unprofitable profession. You are something like twenty-one years old.

Your trade is that of the thief. In fact, you were the best footpad and housebreaker in Tawalisi, until you decided to leave the service of a master who will get unreasonably angry if I write his name here. You were allowed to depart on the condition that you sacrifice your memories at this temple, because your former master is a paranoid, controlling, and secretive man. He also holds grudges, so while he says all my debts are cleared, I would be cautious about returning to the capital if I were you. Which I am.

Tawalisi's the richest, liveliest, most exciting city in the Empire, though. Wouldn't blame you for deciding to go back. What matters is that the decision is yours. From now on, you decide where to travel, who to target, who to make into your enemy and your ally. When to get involved in political bullshit (please don't get involved in political bullshit). This precious freedom is what you sacrificed your old life for.

If there's more that I have forgotten to include, well, you'll just have to search for the answers yourself. I'm not worried about you. You may be feeling unsure, lost, lacking direction, but take it from me: you are a phenom. You have every talent you need to cling to life and fleece it for everything you desire.

Cheers,

Deo

P.S. Almost forgot! Your Soul Evocation is Vision. Get blood with the dagger (doesn't have to be your blood), and paint it over your eyes.

What the…you're a mage? A soul-mage? That's too important to nearly forget! Urgently, you stick your hands back in the bag. A fringed scarf, you noticed it earlier, but on second glance it's wrapped around something. A small, light sheath, swallowed up by the fabric. Inside is a thirteen-wave kris.

It gleams darkly. Damascene patterns of silver and black ripple down the blade like moonlight on water. You trace its waves with a finger, enamored. It's like looking at your own face. It's like reading another letter about yourself. In your hand, you hold a piece of your soul. Grasping it, you feel a wordless completeness, the return of something you hadn't even noticed was missing. If you were the artistic sort, you could write a poem about this reunion.

Actually – who knows? Maybe you are. You should give it a try, later.

Right now you've got magic to do.

The pad of one finger pushes down on the kris's tip, deliberately, with more and more force until the skin splits and blood blooms about the puncture. You gasp a little – not from the pain, there's barely any – but from the sudden quickening of the kris's spirit. The feeling is intense, but its nature is sharp focus. The path of a blade, that ripples and wavers distractingly, seemingly aimlessly, before the point plunges into its target.

You remember what you were doing. Your pierced finger comes up. Squeezing it with your thumb, you paint your eyelids with blood. Staying with the kris's spirit, you open your eyes.

[ ] You see a deep-red shimmer from the sun in the air, and beneath your own skin. (Unlock Heat Vision)

[ ] You see a deep and comforting glow within your own dagger, as well as a few glittering traces on the walls – they must have used magic to hew this place out of the mountain. (Unlock Magic Vision)

[ ] You see traces of comfort and concern in this room, as well as old threads of illness and pain. All of it pales next to your glowing satisfaction, however. (Unlock Aura Vision)

[All these spells require Deo to paint blood over his own eyes, and last until the blood is removed.]