A Simple Transaction I

[Rihaku]

- A Simple Transaction -
- I - ​

Every story spoken has been spoken before.

The boy from Earth stumbles into another realm. A world of wonder and magic, suffering beneath the Tyrant's cruel yoke. The boy becomes a man, the man becomes a hero, the hero defeats the Tyrant, and all live happily ever after. So destiny has decreed.

But the Tyrant is not so easily overcome.

He is wise to destiny's tricks, greater than destiny's stewards. He sets the world spinning to the direction of a new master. Destiny falters; only causality remains. And mere causality does not suffice a hero from coddled Earth to stand against the Tyrant.

The hero fails, time and again. The people of the world suffer for his impudence. He loses an arm, an eye, half a lung, all the natural vigor of his youth. The companions with which he journeyed become a procession of the dead. His quest, prophesied as the dalliance of a season, becomes a grim slog of years.

There is no certainty of victory; barely any chance of it. But the hero's heart is full of hate, and it is much too late to stop.

He learns from his enemy. Mirrors the monster's unmerciful cunning, turns to those forbidden arts his long-dead mentors warned him against. Finds in them, at last, an arena in which his talent exceeds his adversary's.

Years more of preparation, to realize the power that talent portends. Time bought dearly with the blood of his allies, a patchwork insurgency of the desperate and condemned. In sparse moments, the hero and his surviving companions carve out a life for themselves, stealing what joy they can. The long, bitter path of his journey trudges towards culmination.

One final sally against the Tyrant. As before, their powers are unevenly matched. But for the first time, that imbalance is in the hero's favor.

And yet even that is not enough. The gap in power does not suffice to overcome the gulf of skill still between them. There is no more time. There are no more chances.

The killing stroke descends. The hero's final companion throws herself into its path. The hero becomes a widower.

In the Tyrant's implacable guard, a momentary opening appears.

Burning selfhood like tallow, the widower mounts one final onslaught. In his eyes there is no more victory, no more dreams of failure or success. Only the enemy which must be destroyed, no matter the cost.

The widower prevails. The Tyrant is no more. The peoples of the world celebrate their liberation. Joy and adulation rain upon their silent champion, who stares ahead unblinking.

After the parade the widower buries his wife and their unborn child. It is eleven years to the day since he arrived in this world.

Crippled by the effulgence of that final strike, the widower is a pale shadow of his prior self. But in the eyes of the people, he is still the hero that was; their protector, their shining knight, their salvation, howsoever delayed though it may have been. And, with the passing of seasons, a glimmer of hope arises in the hero's heart. That, though the cost was ruinous, more than he could bear, there was good in the world still waiting to be fostered.

Freedom, Justice, Truth. In time, democracy. A society with the power and wherewithal to be organized around its highest ideals, rather than brute necessity. It is what they would have wanted - and if he no longer wields a hero's strength, still he has a hero's influence.

But the world did not sit idly while he mourned. The kings and dukes who fought alongside the hero have filled the vacuum of power left by the Tyrant. And they are content with the system at hand. Theirs is a society of nearly faultless structure, stably and evenly arranged. Their yoke is light, the people are fed. Is that not justice? There is no place here for the instruments of modernity, much less its frivolous ideals.

The hero is not dissuaded. Too many have died for him to surrender this dream. In that resolve the nobility see the beginnings of a Tyrant by a different name. They act. Treachery achieves what all the overlord's power could not: the hero undone at last. Discarded by those who had no more use for him.

In the hero's final moments, despair and hate raging equally across his heart, comes a being with the form of a man, offering vengeance in the form of a bargain.

The being is power beyond measure, beyond the hero's wildest reckonings, the solemn steady heartbeat of all creation, the sword by which all stories would end.

"Are you the-"

The man cuts him off with an upraised hand. "No, I'm not the Devil, nor am I associated with any that claim to be him. There will be no souls, no contracts, no signing in blood. My offer is that of a simple transaction. I am bound by countless Curses, leaving me greatly diminished, a thin figment of what I once was. Take up a portion of my burdens, and in exchange receive a fraction of my power."

Power enough to escape this world, or remake it. This he understands without speaking. Even knowing this, he can not help but dislike the being. If this Accursed one had deigned to act sooner, could his wife and son have been saved?

But it had not, and mere dislike means nothing.

What else is there to say?

"I accept."

Mournfully the being closes its eyes. "So be it."

"If you wish only to survive," it continued, "I will grant you a modest portion of my burdens, and power enough to be free of this realm and its shackles. But if you seek vengeance against the powers truly responsible for your suffering here, then you must take on a far more onerous burden. In exchange, you will receive the power of unbounded progression, growth without limit or surcease."

[ ] Freedom - The eyes of the Accursed open. The ghost of a smile plays across his face, almost too quickly to catch. "Perhaps the wiser choice. Be careful which burdens you undertake; they will accompany you for eons to come. Go, enjoy your freedom. You've earned it."

*Become a Combat-type Cursebearer, granted immense personal might at the cost of 2 Curses.
*Yours will be power sufficient to crack planets and shatter nations, to drown the oceans themselves in ash, blot out sun and stars, the fire and impact of a nuclear bombardment as immaterial as rain against your skin.
*Your power will include some means of travel between worlds, allowing you to depart this wretched realm.
*Unless you decide otherwise, relatively comfy quest of nation-building, adventuring & slacking off.
*Perhaps the best revenge is living well.

-Granted power will not grow naturally.
-It is unlikely you will ever discover the truth behind your suffering, much less avenge yourself upon its architects. But the strings are cut, you are a puppet no more. Forget them, and live on.

[ ] Vengeance - "...If that is what you wish."

"If you survive, no power will be beyond you. In time, there will be no blade you cannot sunder, no force you cannot rout, no foe you cannot ruin, no throne you cannot claim. Take care that you do not become that which you despise."

*Become a Progression-type Cursebearer, granted the potential to attain power beyond all reason through ingenuity and effort, at the cost of the Geas of Indenture, the Apocryphal Curse, and 2 additional Curses.
*Receive only a modest boon of power to start, but you will almost certainly grow rapidly.
*The Geas will take you away from this place, to a world more conducive to your growth, though no less dangerous.
*Should you survive the trials to come, you will almost certainly grow strong enough to plumb this realm of its secrets and overcome its true masters.
*Some say the best revenge is living well. They are lying to themselves. One can strive to live well regardless, but there is no true substitute for revenge. No substitute for doing unto them what they did unto you, for passing sentence upon their richly deserving selves. King or noble, brazen masters or hidden ones... it matters not. When the hour arrives at last, there will be no justice here. Only vengeance.

-Limited initial power
-Forced to take a large number of Curses
-Including the dreaded Apocryphal Curse

---

The choice came upon him, knowledge of the Curses appearing unbidden in his mind. All could be mitigated with time and effort, though it would take increasingly heroic efforts to overcome more than a modest fraction.

[ ] The Geas of Indenture - Mortgage your future to pay for the present? The term of your service shall be no less than 937 octillion years. Immediately you will be transported to another world and given a task to complete. Nearly every task will fall into one of two forms: you will be required either to kill a predestined 'Chosen One' of some kind, or to conquer some amount of territory.

You will be granted full discretion in the completion of your tasks and there is no penalty whatsoever to slacking off provided you complete your mission within the generous time window allotted. Assassination tasks typically have a 100 - 500 year window, while conquest tasks usually have a 1,000 - 10,000 (or greater) year window, depending on the scope of the territory in question. Should you complete your mission early, you may choose to vacation in your current world for up to 10 more years before departing to the next task. Your assigned tasks will always be within your given capabilities to achieve. Failure to complete your task within the time window will result in death. You will not be assigned tasks that are totally abhorrent; assassination of a well-meaning hero is about as bad as it gets.

[ ] The Decimator's Affliction - You will naturally absorb the total fundamental life force of the realm you currently inhabit at a rate of 10% per year. Area affected is exceptionally large and scales with your own power; a weak Progression-type might only affect half a continent, while a Combat-type would affect an entire solar system. In the absence of sufficient life force, you will begin to bleed essence, losing components of your powers, skills, identity, memories, and ontological veracity at a proportional rate. Though there are many paths of mitigation available, none of them are pleasant or easy.

[ ] Affliction of Slumber - A curse of the body. No matter how powerful your physical form becomes, you will require at least sixteen hours of sleep every twenty-four hours. Missing even a single hour will result in severe physiological consequences. If enemies consistently interrupt your sleep, you will find yourself near-constantly disoriented and enervated. Your waking hours are the very stuff of life. With this choice, you surrender half your conscious existence, your very presence in the world, upon the altar of a Curse.

[ ] Brand of the Champion - It is the champion's remit to solve problems, to answer the call of heroism wheresoever it should arise. The champion stands unconquered but alone. Everyone you interact with aside from a select few individuals will refuse to assist you, even in trivial ways, unless you perform some inane or perilous task for them first. Even if all conventions of morality, duty, or good sense would impel them otherwise, they will simply find it unthinkable to aid you without due recompense. The difficulty of tasks is usually equivalent to the degree of assistance you request, though not always.

There is no escaping the Brand, even the Accursed is affected by this, but if you are calling in a Primary Remittance that hinges on his intervention, such as Three Wishes, the tasks he assigns you will be moderately difficult at most.

[ ] Doom of the Tyrant - You absolutely refuse to submit to, or even acknowledge the legitimacy of, any rule, custom, law or authority above your own, unless that authority is at least as powerful as a specific instruction from the Accursed himself. Your ability to operate within the context of any organization you are not unequivocally in charge of is utterly crippled. Diplomacy is a laughable dream.

Enemies that are aware of this can provoke you via reverse psychology, though this can only cause you to attack them - you aren't compelled to do the opposite of whatever they order. This Curse comes pre-mitigated in that it does not affect the Accursed, but is very difficult to mitigate further.

It's inadvisable to take this alongside any Brand effect if you intend to ever work with others. Example:

You request a subordinate do something for you -> They refuse until you collect 20 bear pelts -> You refuse to acknowledge the Brand's legitimacy, as it is not greater than the Accursed -> You are unable to ever get your 'subordinate' to do anything

[ ] Doom of Lunacy - The large majority of your power (75%) is sealed within a monstrous battle-form that forcefully emerges under conditions of extreme duress. You may voluntarily enter this form, but doing so causes you to go absolutely berserk, attacking without regard to friend or foe until everything in your vicinity is destroyed. Affected area scales with your power, but is always very large. Anyone who perceives the form is afflicted by terror and hatred as if by a Brand-type Curse; all but the most stalwart of allies will turn upon you in the face of it.

This Curse can only be effectively mitigated by one means. Very occasionally you will encounter certain individuals that are highly compatible with you in some way. It is highly likely that any such individual(s) will be substantially weaker than you in most regards. In their presence the Doom will begin to shift to the Geas of Lunacy, if you do not suppress the change. The Geas of Lunacy does not limit your power in any way, but afflicts you with an unhealthy level of devotion to the individual in question. Their happiness and safety are certainly more important than your own and you will find it difficult to refuse even their slightest whims. It is always surprisingly difficult to augment their power beyond its natural rate of progression.

[ ] Plenary Brand - Like a blazing sun, the radiance of your power is wholly unconstrained, and the shadow of your potential looms perilously, a pall over reality that is impossible to ignore. The truth of your essential nature is broadcast without concealment or pretext. Even if it would normally do so, this effect will not cause others to like you more.

You automatically attract the attention of everyone who perceives you, and your rough capabilities are made apparent to them, to whatever degree they can reasonably comprehend. Disguise is impossible, your nature is blindingly obvious, and enemies so informed of your abilities will act accordingly. Snip Progression-types in the bud with overwhelming strength, retreat and attempt to outscale Combat-types, etc. One of a Cursebearer's greatest strengths is the ability to grow in power undetected by the mighty; anonymity is very often the greatest defense. With this Curse, enemies will never overlook or forget the severity of the threat you pose. Even ostensible allies will likely foment contingency plans.

The Plenary Brand overpowers any forms of stealth or misdirection you might attempt. Furthermore, in any situation where it is remotely reasonable to do so, all enemies will focus their efforts on defeating you first.

Unlike most Curses, the strength of this Brand slowly increases with time. Unless efforts are paid towards mitigation, your mere existence will eventually sear ten billion impressions of yourself into the minds of your allies, rendering them comatose, while your enemies become monomaniacally determined to end you.

[ ] The Apocryphal Curse - "May you live in interesting times."

The challenges this presents will usually not be beyond your ability to overcome, but very occasionally you will be forced to dig deep and discover whether you are truly worthy of the Accursed's mantle. Remember: the greater the reprieve, the more terrible the chaos that follows. "Better to be a dog in times of peace, then a man in time of war."

*Counts as 2 Curses. Don't take it unless you have to.

---

But alongside those burdens came power, the Remittances of the Accursed that he had paid so dearly for:

[ ] The Regalia - A crown and throne of stars.

A combination of Remittances. While it lacks in focus, it presents its recipient with an arsenal of superior versatility. A practical choice that focuses on minimizing risk and mitigating downside.

*Fortune: Once, upon your death or suffering of an unacceptable loss, you may rewind the relevant timelines up to one hundred years, though not to any point before you became a Cursebearer. All Cursebearers will retain their memories of the period rewound. Triggers unprompted if you die unexpectedly.
*Force: You will acquire a modest but useful superpower synergistic with your existing capabilities.
*Favor: Choose one additional Lesser Remittance.
*Wild: Copy any one of the above effects, making new choices for the copy.

Any powers granted by Remittances are scaled to your current power unless otherwise noted. A Combat-type Cursebearer would receive a greater boon than a starting Progression-type, though the latter might need it more...

[ ] The King's Scepter - Power, plain and simple.

The scepter represents temporal power, power over the world. Shallow though it may be, immediate power represents more than just safety in the moment. Certainly you can't train if you're dead. But power in the moment is also leverage to face stronger foes, to reap greater rewards, to provide greater space for optimization, more resources with which to accelerate your training.

Taking the Scepter all but guarantees you won't be snuffed out before you get a chance to advance, and accelerates your growth curve by giving you the leverage to take risks.

*The Accursed will grant you a mighty power, broad in remit and scope of action and well-suited to your nature. If you are a Combat type, the power granted will be of formidable scale. If you are a Progression type, the power will be optimized to grow with you.

[ ] Three Wishes - Your heart's desire.

The Accursed will grant certain of your requests. Do not squander his favor. Substantially mitigating your Curses or otherwise exceeding the Accursed's high expectations will recharge some fraction of either the Least, Lesser, or True Wishes depending on the scale and magnificence of your achievement.

Least Wish - You may wish for anything you could accomplish given a year's worth of effort, knowing what you know now. For example, "Improve my parameters as if I trained with my current methods for a year."

Lesser Wish - You may wish for most anything within reason, though it may not excessively surpass your current power level or that of the reality in which you currently reside. For example:

"Improve my parameters as if I had trained in a reasonably optimal manner for a human lifetime, without any of the negative side effects thereof."
"I wish for a superpower well-tailored to my current situation." Its general power level would be below that of the King's Scepter.
"I wish this enemy were dead beyond the possibility of recovery" would work on a greater variety of enemies than "I wish for this enemy to become my loyal servant."

Resurrection, time travel, social and political power etc are all within the realm of possibility, though each has limits.

True Wish - You may only employ the True Wish defensively unless the Accursed feels you have earned it. Earning it is very difficult. Used defensively, the Accursed will decisively resolve even the direst of situations in your favor. This is as good a guarantee of safety as exists in creation, for no entity you encounter in your travels will be even remotely capable of challenging the Accursed. The elder horrors of the omniverse could turn their unbridled might against you, but sheltering under his aegis you would not feel so much as a breeze.

Used proactively, you may wish for anything, and the Accursed will grant it if it is in your best interests.

Invoke this power with care, for the Accursed does not grant a favors of this scope for all but the most incredible of achievements. Most Cursebearers only get one.

[ ] The Sword That Ends The World - Accursed blade.

Access the Praxis, the Accursed's personal casting style. A style of magic that emanates completely from the self, relies completely upon the self, and is developed completely by the self. Advancement in the Praxis depends little on talent, much on effort and self-sacrifice. A dream of fairness, defiant against an uncaring universe. And power enough, in time, to make the universe care.

The Praxis is renowned for its limitless potential and complete omni-dimensional reliability. Where all other magics fail, the Praxis operates with unerring consistency. It excels at inflicting and preventing harm, but struggles in matters of renewal or restoration. This Remittance only grants access to the Praxis, but only Combat-type Cursebearers will start with skill in its application. Unlike the other Primary Remittances, this Remittance offers no immediate power to a Progression-type Cursebearer.

---

Lesser Remittances will be chosen after your Primary Remittance is selected. They include choices such as companions, objects of power, slight upgrades to your Primary Remittance and so on. It would be unwise to rely on them for safety in the short or medium term.

Please first vote for your favored combination of [ ] Freedom / [ ] Vengeance, Curses, and Primary Remittance.

Example Lesser Remittances:

Companion: Gisena Allria, the Nullity Sorceress

Physical **
Social ****
Mental ****

On the brink of her execution by a mighty foe, the Nullity Sorceress employed a novel and highly risky application of her powers to tear a hole between realms. Nihilistic, cunning, and disarmingly vivacious, she is an exceptionally talented technologist and socialite. Beautiful, and fond of using her charms to tease, manipulate, and frustrate friend & foe alike.

Modestly superhuman strength, speed, constitution, appearance, and quickness of thought. Her Sorcerous Graces allow her to nullify, negate, or weaken a very broad range of supernatural effects, or, in theory, aspects of reality. Well-suited to Curse mitigation. Not immune to the Brand of the Champion, not compatible with the Doom of Lunacy.

Artifact: Hunger

A ring of power, two thin bands of black surrounding a band of blood-red. When worn, it merges onto the finger, unable to be removed. The user's appetite for all the visceral pleasures of life is notably sharpened, increasing motivation and drive but with the obvious side effects. Indestructible as far as you can tell.

Dramatically reduces the benefits of training, but explosively increases rate of progression during active conflict. An active Cursebearer would progress many times faster in total.

Upgrade: Accursed Favor

Forgo a Lesser Remittance. Causes the Accursed to like you slightly more. Benefits uncertain, can be taken multiple times.

By default you have one Lesser Remittance, but you can acquire more in the following ways:

*Each additional Curse you take beyond the requirements grants 3 Lesser Remittances
*The Regalia grants 1-2 Lesser Remittances
*Thread Participation (see below)

 

[Rihaku]

Choose 1. Decide carefully, as this will determine not only the hero's Curses and Remittance but his disposition overall. It takes a certain mindset to select Freedom given chance of Vengeance, or the opposite.

[ ] Dread but Dreaming - A force of nature more than a man, but perhaps that is for the best. With power such as this, the dream of a society aligned to his ideals is not so far away. But even if it's what they would have wanted, would it not be even better to have - them - back? Perhaps he recoils from even their memory. To face them would be too much. Sleep beckons, its insensate span anesthetizing the soul. Disturb not he who lies dread but dreaming, for he means you no harm. His task is done, and these long slow eons are not durance, but requiem.
-[ ] Keep the Plenary Brand, gaining 3 more Lesser Remittances.
-[ ] Drop the Plenary Brand, removing the risk of it exposing your Curse-related weaknesses.

*Safely explore the Praxis. Begin with a considerable basis in its techniques.
*When you are ready to act, do with the power what you wish
*Can advance in power naturally by studying the Praxis
*Difficult to integrate into proper society, may have to make your own
*Somewhat underwhelming long-term prospects due to Slumber. Compared to the other options, it takes a while to get things done.

Freedom
Affliction of Slumber, Tyrant's Doom, Plenary Brand
The Sword That Ends The World

---

[ ] The Forsaken Mask - To enjoy the freedom you've earned, it's best not to take Curses that would be too much of a burden. The Doom of Lunacy may restrict your power, but the Plenary Brand makes your true strength apparent, and the threat of power is often as effective as its application. With the power to return those lost to you, a simple and unambitious life beckons. That said, it would be unwise to bare your true mien around child or wife. Even if they have the strength of spirit to withstand its abhorrence, they lack the strength of body to survive its rage. Woe betide he who would drive you too far, for your power unmasked is the doom of worlds.

*A comfy life with your child and wife
*Though it's obvious you have it, it's highly risky to actually unleash your power
*Difficult to train it as much of your capacity is sealed by the Doom, but easy to fit into society
*If you can find a compatible Lunacy target, such worries would be reduced
*A highly synergistic build. Three Wishes is the best Remittance for the Plenary Brand, Combat-type the best Type, Doom of Lunacy the best accompanying Curse.

Freedom
Doom of Lunacy, Plenary Brand
Three Wishes

---

[ ] Vendetta - He did not volunteer for service, he was compelled. And his enslavers have betrayed and discarded him. So much for heroism. So much for ideals. So be it. Aside from his benefactor, he stands alone. Until the architects of his ruin lay broken beneath his feet, he will know neither peace nor rest. If Justice is five fingers made a fist, then Vengeance is a blade held aloft. Let it be their sword of Damocles.

Tremble, traitor gods and traitor kings. For the hour of reckoning is nigh, and the price of your hubris is blood.

-[ ] Remittance: The Sword - This option is undeniably powerful in the long-term if he can survive the first Geas world, but dramatically increases the effective danger of the first world in a way that is difficult to mitigate with Lesser Remittances. Note: if the hero dies early, which is very possible with this build, the quest will end and I do not intend to make a new quest for a while. In either case the hero's story will be over.
-[ ] Remittance: The King's - There are more ways than one to gain power quickly. Having existing power to leverage is one of the more reliable, and safer too. There is much to be said for immediate strength when one takes a combination of Curses as aggressive as this. One need not wield the sword that ends the world in order to shatter heaven.

Vengeance
Decimator's Affliction, Tyrant's Doom
The Sword That Ends the World / King's Scepter

*Unapologetic EDGE. If you like Baenlixnaire so much, why don't you be him?!
*A dangerous combination of Curses, but not overly restrictive outside of social situations
*You'll have to decide whether to aggressively mitigate the Affliction, spending time and effort, or to let it run, conserving your power to prepare for the Apocryphal Curse
*Unrestricted Progression married to purity of purpose will yield incalculable might in time.
*To be clear, while the hero will be obsessed with vengeance and consider it his foremost priority (can you blame him?), he will still be a functional human being capable of making human connections. This option will not turn him into a caricature.

---

[ ] Balance - The temptation of respite is strong. But his companions, his child, cannot go unavenged. Perhaps he can find it in himself to forget the hidden ones and let their depredations go unanswered. But that is the coping mechanism of the powerless, a squandering of the opportunity, so unthinkably precious, that has been presented him. What then is the path that balances humanity with satisfaction, safety with power? If impairment in certain arenas is the only cost of this strength, then he will consider it power bought cheaply, so long as his own decision-making is not compromised.

Vengeance
Affliction of Slumber, Champion's Brand
Regalia

*Turn every social interaction into a simple transaction. It's safer that way.
*With efficiently conserved power and Regalia granting two instances of perfect time travel, well equipped to deal with the Apocryphal Curse in the short to medium term. Time travel is not just safety, but power - optimal knowledge of all secrets and circumstances that can be exploited to one's favor. With foreknowledge, the upheaval that characterizes interesting times can bring opportunity as well. Chaos, ladders, etc.
*Curse selection does not provoke enemies, so will likely encounter fewer and less dangerous foes in the first place
*Can still rely on those select individuals immune to the Champion's Brand to do things for him, but a Progression type can eventually do most things himself
*Slumber is a crippling affliction, but all Curses are crippling. Speed of Progression is still immense and he can still interact rationally with society, potentially hiring guards.
*Perhaps he will never profitably benefit from accelerated time, but the effort that would have been paid towards that endeavor can be spent on the next best thing.
*Such is the nature of unbounded Progression in every field.

 

[Rihaku]

What was the art of the realm into which the hero first stumbled? Though he had mastered it to a prodigious degree, the exertion of his final onslaught degraded his power in this field as it did others. Now in his pre-Cursebearer state he was barely more notable than an average soldier, given the many ills and maiming wounds that plagued him. As a Cursebearer, that may no longer be the case.

By default, options that grant you immediate power will take the most efficient route of restoring, upgrading, or expanding on your chosen magic. You may gain access to other sources of supernatural power as well, such as the Praxis if a certain Remittance is chosen, or simply the magics and technologies of other worlds. Each would possess varying levels of synergy with the options below. Especially as a Progression-type Cursebearer, no field is truly barred to you save that which your Curses preclude. And, of course, it's easier to tread a path already taken.

[ ] Battle Mastery - At first glance a simplistic art, yet few are more sophisticated at their core. The power of battle magic appears almost shockingly literal: techniques of sword and fist sporting superhuman might, orbs and shields channeling stupendous energies, summoned beasts who charge fearlessly into battle. All the mainstays of a hero's arsenal are present, but their implementation cleaves conceptual lines with a precision that bewilders and frustrates. How can a torrent of lightning that vaporizes a giant leave the surrounding greenery unmarred, save for a cosmetically significant singe mark?

How can a technique of bodily resilience grant superior resistance to harm without affecting one's health or the texture of one's flesh? How can a technique sufficient to propel the hero in a sixty-meter leaping charge fail to generate enough force to break down a wooden door? How can a spell of healing restore one from the brink of death yet have no effect on maiming wounds? The values of the system seem orthogonal to physical reality or common sense, and yet prioritized over both.

Mastery comes not only from cultivating its spells and techniques, but from clever exploitation of their confounding results. Lateral thinking is key. You need to scale a wall, but only wield a spell which summons a horde of skeletons that mindlessly attack a single target? Target the wall and use the skeletons as a makeshift ramp. Need to carve a statue? Animate a pile of marble into the weakest tier of golem so that it counts as a foe, allowing you to shape it with offensive spells. Polymorph passengers into helpless frogs so that your ferry can fit more, lowering the fares for all!

*Leaps, charges, strikes, sweeps, stances, orbs, bolts, cones, blasts, shields, fields, auras, lances, and other active effects distinguished by their kinetic and spatial parameters
*Extremely efficient at what it does; no extraneous power is wasted on combat-irrelevant effects, and even the most destructive effects unleashed at point-blank range will leave allies and bystanders untouched. Does eventually cap out, though many effects retain their utility; reducing damage taken by 99.8% is frequently relevant.
*Recombination of techniques allows for surprising versatility for the quick-witted and sharp of mind.
*Forbidden Art: Spirit Mastery. The hero learned to burn his own fundamental essence in order to magnify the power of his techniques, but he burned so much during the final confrontation that he has lost even the knowledge to attempt this.

[ ] Seven Seals - The magic of the world was evocation of the self, the light of the soul made manifest. Each who had awakened to the light could offer their own unique capabilities, but few were as versatile and encompassing as this. The power to Seal can broadly be thought of as the inverse of reification: a flame becomes the character for 'Fire'; an onrushing torrent locked into a picture of itself. But this is an ability whose applications well exceed mere storage and containment. Not only can attacks from one foe be captured to be released against another, the nature of things sealed can be intensified through addition or fundamentally altered via combination. One may lack the equipment to meld fire with stone, but far easier to combine the character 'Fire' with the character 'Stone.'

And stranger effects than this are possible for a true master of the art: drawing upon sealed reserves without unsealing them; sealing and combining concepts; safely converting one's self into a seal, thereby to reside halfway into the Realm of Forms!

*An extremely versatile ability that allows for countless permutations
*Seal and redirect enemy attacks or convert any convenient form of quickly moving mass-energy into attacks; contain and constrict the abilities of foes; channel intensified sealed strength for superhuman attributes, seal one's own tiredness, or even become a being of pattern more than form and sear yourself across the span of reality!
*The first two Seals are easy to learn. Each subsequent level represents a rapidly escalating leap in difficulty. Progress will be relatively slow compared to other disciplines.
*Forbidden Art: Fifth Seal. The hero can no longer recall any details of the Fifth or higher Seals.

[ ] Accretion - A farmer's boy. A sword of fable. A perilous quest. Death or glory.

A form of symbiosis between wielder and object, integrating shared experiences, mythic archetypes, accumulated legendry and personal craftsmanship. The result is a being greater than the sum of its parts, not a man wielding a sword but Arthur with Excalibur, the blade closer to his being than his own sword-arm. That deep conceptual weight, wearing a groove in reality's current, permits the slow unfurling of impossible feats as a product of the partnership.

The power of Accretion is rarely replicable and never easily defined. Its greatest masters turn the tides of battle simply by taking the field, their presence an inexpressible radiance, sharp light beyond sense or reason, that erodes the existential basis of those who would oppose them. You will find them at the crux of fate, the critical point of inflection; there does that power reach its apex, starshine become a blazing sun, light and fire and fury as to bring the world to its knees.

*A power that is somewhat agnostic to the strength of one's foes. Battle Magic will never deflect a supernova; a master of this art might, though they'd have near equal difficulty deflecting a tank shell.
*Operates on a level beyond physical causality. With few exceptions, does not enhance physical parameters at all.
*With time and many shared tribulations, some of a union's powers may become relatively consistent and explicable. For example, the hero wears a suit of dark grey plate, and nothing may slay him short of annihilating the armor entire.
*Forbidden Art: Abduction. The forceful seizing of another's armament, inconsistent in application and terribly risky, as aspects of the prior wielder may impose themselves upon you. The hero stole into the Tyrant's Catacomb and emerged bearing the sword of the Tyrant's progenitor. That blade now lies broken, and with it its wielder.

The arts not picked will never have been present in the hero's initial realm.

Please remember to copy your vote for the previous choice when you vote here, so as not to override your previous vote.

 

[Rihaku]

The winning vote is Vendetta. Given the nature of Vendetta, please choose a Vendetta subvote alongside your votes below.

[ ] The Sword That Ends the World - Access to the Praxis, the fearsome supernal art of the Accursed himself. Only access, no immediate power. Given the obstacles arrayed before you, even if you choose optimally at each juncture, there is a between 1/3rd and 2/3rds chance you will die within the first few fights. Thread participation will not be able to change this, but you are free to take this risk. No one can say I have not repeatedly warned you.

[ ] The King's Scepter - The Accursed will grant you some degree of immediate power, which can be leveraged into further growth and which will provide substantial safety in the early stages of your journey.

I'm going to eliminate Battle Mastery of the three systems, but Accretion and Seven Seals are really close in terms of thread participation. As we build momentum, I hope we will be able to decisively close out these votes in a more timely fashion. Either way, this initial period of character creation is coming to a close. Please choose one of:

[ ] Accretion
[ ] Seven Seals

---

Cursebearer, Select 3 Lesser Remittances

Companion:

[ ] Gisena Allria, the Nullity Sorceress

Physical **
Social ****
Mental ****

On the brink of her execution by a mighty foe, the Nullity Sorceress employed a novel and highly risky application of her powers to tear a hole between realms. Nihilistic, cunning, and disarmingly vivacious, she is an exceptionally talented technologist and socialite. Beautiful, and fond of using her charms to tease, manipulate, and frustrate friend & foe alike.

Modestly superhuman strength, speed, constitution, appearance, and quickness of thought. Her Sorcerous Graces allow her to nullify, negate, or weaken a very broad range of supernatural effects, or, in theory, aspects of reality. Well-suited to Curse mitigation. Can continue to advance by attaining Coalescences.

[ ] Ceathlynn "Catherine" of Amarlt

Physical *****
Social * / ***
Mental **

Considered a failed prototype in the Amarlt family's disavowed eugenic super-soldier program, Catherine was relegated to the role of a lab assistant in the Astral Exploratory of her nominal House. A high-energy rift experiment gone wrong displaced her in space and time. Hurled centuries into the future, she is now the sole pureblooded inheritor of the Amarlt lineage, the main branch having long consumed itself in a fiery internecine war.

Though she possesses peak human reflexes, agility, kinesthetic sense, bodily coordination and melee combat skills, lacking any supernatural abilities she is little more effective than most humans against soldiers armed with guns. However, virtually any form of supernatural augmentation or equipment would act as powerful force multipliers for her. For example, she has an astonishing talent for piloting advanced weapons systems. Reserved and timid, she has not yet found her self-confidence in social situations, though she displays implacable will in the pursuit of any mission assigned.

[ ] Prolessarch [2 Remittances]

Physical **
Social ***
Mental *******

A lich who studied under a legendary Great Sage, the easy-going and adventurous Prolessarch completed a powerful spell which allowed him to traverse the void between dimensions. Though he has lost the vast majority of his magics in the process of powering his immortality, he still possesses a keen analytical intellect capable of insights well into the superhuman range. A human supremacist and somewhat set in his views; the topic of elves is one of the few issues that can rouse him to anger.

A masterful researcher into all forms of supernatural power, his prodigious intuition allows him to grasp foundational insights with startling frequency. Though this is perhaps less relevant for abstract systems such as Accretion, it will certainly be a boon for other systems you encounter. Though his undead frame is no faster than a well-trained human, it possess a corpselike resilience and the ability to drain the life essence of sapient beings. Possesses functional immortality; he cannot be killed until all trace of his memetic legacy is erased from the universe. Able, convivial, a fiercely loyal friend, a monstrous and unwavering foe.

Unconcerned with the vast array of magical powers he has lost; confident in his ability to acquire temporal power when needed, though it bores him.

"Easy come, easy go, hm? Now tell me more about this 'Astral' Exploratory of yours!"

Artifact:

[ ] Hunger

A ring of power, two thin bands of black surrounding a band of blood-red. When worn, it merges onto the finger, unable to be removed. The user's appetite for all the visceral pleasures of life is notably sharpened, increasing motivation and drive but with the obvious side effects. Indestructible as far as you can tell.

Dramatically reduces the benefits of training, but explosively increases rate of progression during active conflict. An active Cursebearer would progress many times faster in total. You don't have to wear it yourself.

[ ] Talon

A long, raking talon of yellowed ivory, stained with blood on its lower side and warm to the touch. Upon slaying an enemy of notable strength, the body can be processed to yield an amount of wealth, resources, or relevant equipment commensurate to the power of the foe. If the bearer is in particular need of food, water, or shelter, slain foes become more likely to provide an appropriate resource. Can break, but can repair itself from a sliver by feeding on a notable foe's blood. Intimidating if worn.

[ ] Forebear's Blade

Reforged shall be blade that was broken.

Accretion - Infused with a spark of Accursed power, the blade slowly repairs itself as you progress, assuming a new form well-suited to the character and strengths of its master. As your power grows, so too shall its form be refined, become ever sharper and mightier without limit.

Seven Seals - The Soul Evocation of the chosen hero was Imprisonment, the power to seal. This blade extends, reinforces and magnifies the power of the soul, vastly enhancing the unique affinity of its wielder. Those struck by its edge can be sealed with far less resistance, while energies striking its flat are easily imprisoned. Seals draw by its point hearken as if cut into the primordial clay, becoming easier to comprehend and more potent in function. Increases effectiveness of Imprisonment on Curses.

Upgrade:

[ ] Retinue - You may designate up to five members of your Retinue. Each reduces your rate of Progression by 25% multiplicatively. Each advances in their primary area of specialization with Progression one-fourth the potency of your own. Needless to say this is an outrageous and irreplaceable boon. Retinue companions are easy to add, costly to remove.

Your Retinue companions may with a short ceremony voluntarily pledge loyalty to any member of your retinue or yourself. This axiomatically prevents that character from betraying the one to whom they have so pledged. Breaking a pledge is possible but is always time-consuming, obvious over any distance, extremely onerous and afflicts the forsworn with a particularly ironic flavor of the Apocryphal Curse centered upon themselves. Pledges can be voluntarily released by mutual agreement in a less time-consuming process.

You may pledge loyalty to Retinue companions as well. Pledges may be mutual or not, mutual pledges may be simultaneous or not. You must add a character to the Retinue before pledges (from or to) can be made.

[ ] Intensify - Sharpens and narrows the domain of your Primary Remittance.

*The King's Scepter - Substantially increases power level at the cost of non-combat versatility. Better fulfills its function of initial security and leverage, but scope of action is less broad.
*The Sword - Substantially increases rate of progress and overall effectiveness of the Praxis, but prevents you from ever employing any other supernatural arts. The jack of all trades cannot overcome the master of one.

[ ] Relinquishment - For each decade of service as a Cursebearer, gain one week of freedom from your Curses. Your burdens will be transferred to volunteering Cursebearers for that time. You are free to travel even with the Geas but must be back before the week is over. You may improve the term and frequency of Relinquishment by mitigating your Curses more.

[ ] Accursed Favor

Forgo a Lesser Remittance. Causes the Accursed to like you slightly more. Benefits uncertain, can be taken multiple times.

 

[Rihaku]

Compelled to Battle

The decision was made, the bargain complete. He felt the weight of each Curse settle upon him like a leaden shroud. But alongside came a spark of power, swift and irrepressible, coursing through nerve and vein, awakening some part of the Hero that had been. Sublime electricity like a held breath, like the stillness before a storm, skin of the world so paper thin that with a fingertip's exertion he could brush through, touch the capillary-walls of the weft between realms.

He was not fully restored. Nowhere near the fullness of his power, still but a shadow of the man that he was, soul and memory tattered with holes. That was the cost in selfhood that he'd burned to strike down the overlord.

But it was strength enough to start again, and with strength came even a dull flicker of hope.

When entire world had abandoned him, this being - cosmic monster, impossible horror, whatever it was - had reached out its hand. Whatever its reasons or timing, it alone had given him a chance. Had offered respite, or vengeance, to a tool so thoroughly expended that even the dim shadow of a future had seemed a faraway dream. He would not forget, that every tomorrow onward was possible only because of this being today.

"Thank you," he said, as it turned to leave. "I'll pay you back one day."

The Accursed raised an eyebrow, slight amusement in its eye. "See that you do."

Somehow he felt, despite the vast gulf between them - transcendent overbeing and depleted wretch - that those parting words were no cosmic transaction, but merely an agreement between men.

And then the Accursed was gone, the world resuming its mundane pace, footsteps thudding outside his door. Soldiers come to collect his presumptive corpse.

He inhaled deeply, the tug of the Geas like a hook through his chest, and let it carry him forward, to another world than this.

Plenty of time for sentimentality if he survived. In the meantime there were other debts to pay. And these would not be so pleasant. To fulfill the mission of his vengeance, the first step was simple.

Live, and grow strong.

There was no jarring transition. Barely had the impression of passage touched him before he arrived. He was standing on a hill of green grass under blue skies. The sun was stark and brilliant, a mailed fist of light bearing down. A breeze was blowing, cool and soothing but with the faintest scent of charcoal. He raised a hand to cover his eyes and took his bearings.

The mission of his Geas unfurled in his mind, the task upon which he'd wagered his life.

Conquer at least nine-tenths of the Human Sphere and rule for a period of no less than fifty contiguous years. Time limit: twenty-five hundred years.

He was unused to rulership, and his first attempts at politics would have killed him were it not for the Accursed's intercession. It would be a change of pace, to say the least.

But how much at all remained of the man he'd been? His name, his titles, half the memories that comprised his identity had been burned from his soul in the final conflagration of his battle with the Tyrant. He recalled that he had come from Earth, a planet of sophisticated technology, born in a land of the far East... or was it the far West? He had been a schoolboy, on the precipice of manhood. He had stumbled into a glade. The contours of his mundane life remained, but its details slipped like raindrops through his fingers.

All those memories he'd sacrificed in order to hold more tightly onto what truly mattered. The names and faces of those who'd fought besides him. Who'd given themselves so that he could live, shell of a man that he was. Those he'd befriended. Those he'd admired. And those he had loved.

He would seek vengeance for them, and for himself. Whatsoever architects had engineered the misery inherent to their lives, he would cast them down. No matter how high their thrones, how unassailable their power, he would not rest until they lay broken before him. And he would bring back all who had died to the Tyrant, when he was strong enough to keep them safe. There would be power enough even for that, someday. Power enough and more, if he was to someday keep his promise to his benefactor.

Someday. If he survived. If he completed this mission, and all the missions before him. So he was to be a tyrant? So be it. But the time for deliberation had passed.

There were more pressing concerns. A short sharp bark behind him, unnaturally loud, and he whirled to see a pack of armored creatures loping towards him, hyena-like mouths tasting the air. The frontmost pair charged, leaping forward with uncanny coordination, fangs bared and slavering.

Casually he adjusted his stance. The creature on his left sailed harmlessly by as he drove his bare fist into the one on his right. Its chest all but disintegrated, the shock of his strike describing a perfect circle of sky where its torso once was.

He twisted, reaching back with his hand to grab the first creature by the scruff, hurled it with catapult force into the ranks of its fellows, and leapt, falling like cannon fire into their midst. The force of those twin impacts sent the beasts into brief disarray, and he killed swiftly as they gathered, slaying three more before the pack regained its cohesion. Retreating slightly, they coalesced around him with an easy, dauntless fluidity, the dozen disjoint appendages of a single mind.

He'd never found any enjoyment in killing the Tyrant's men, offering surrender when practical. But he'd no such compunctions about the Tyrant's monsters. Despite himself, the once-hero smiled. It'd been too long since he'd killed something properly.

They sprang at him again, a whirlwind of fang and claw, but he swung his palm outward, neatly bisecting the creatures at his front, and shoulder-checked his way to the other side of their perimeter. Encirclement broken, the rest turned to flee. They didn't get far.

Supplies would be a factor, he mused. He wondered if these monsters were edible. But their bodies dissolved quickly, melting away in the few brief minutes of his scrutiny. Likely not edible, though it was unclear how exactly his status as a Cursebearer had altered his physiology.

A second pack approached, larger in numbers, though little more bothersome than the first. Still it seemed wise to track down and eliminate the source of these creatures before he began to tire. As he crested another hill, he could faintly make out a city on the horizon, smoke in countless tendrils twisting upwards from its walls. Grand spires of white stone jutted upwards from the fortifications.

Looming above were two grander figures still. The first was an wurm-like monster covered in armor plates, towering and vast, its top a grotesque cross of dragon and jackal, lower half a single muscular tail. It was locked in the throes of battle with a vaguely humanoid abomination, bipedal and armored as well.

A pang struck him at the sight of that second giant, as if the marrow in his bones had gained magnetic charge, pulling like a pointer hound in its direction. There was an affinity between them, not that of friends, not quite allies, but... a sense of camaraderie, as if in all of the vast, lonely universe they were the only two of their kind.

---

[ ] Humanitarian Efforts - The city is being pillaged or simply butchered by that creature's spawn. It appears to be struggling against its opponent, so there should be no need for you to intervene. Save as many lives as possible, rescue and evacuate civilians from the city and cull the ranks of the creature's horde. Best keep your distance from both abominations until you learn more. You don't quite trust this unnatural affinity. [+Charisma]

[ ] Cut Off The Head - The wurm-beast shares too many similarities with the hyena-creatures that attacked you for this chain of events to be a coincidence. Likely it sent those hunting packs because it could sense whatever link exists between you and its opponent. If it so badly desires to be your enemy, you will oblige. Though you wouldn't be confident against a monster of that scale at your current strength, you should at least be able to avoid becoming collateral damage. And it has little attention to spare for the likes of you. Helping your... comrade kill it should address the root of the problem.

---

This was a highly contested vote, but after reviewing everything the King's Scepter faction had an substantial lead in fanworks. Please decide the nature of your final build. You will meet any companions shortly (would have been present for the first battles with Sword, but Scepter crushes them easily).

In the hero's estimation he is still far from his peak, but his current strength is very respectable. Roughly equal to his power halfway through his journey against the Tyrant, more than enough to subdue a force of hundreds with his bare hand. Your decision below may modify this.

[ ] King of Sorcerers - Expansive versatility at the cost of some direct power.

Seven Seals, Gisena Allria, Retinue, Forebear's Blade

*The most popular elements in one build
*Numerous sources of Curse mitigation
*Ability to bring in Retinue members and capitalize on character-unique synergies across Seals, Null Sorcery, and any magics or special technologies present here
*Powerful active defense and counterattack potential. Great utility from Seals.
*Direct offense slightly lacking.

[ ] Twice-Great - Magus-knight and apprentice.

Seven Seals, Ceathlynn of Amarlt, Hunger, Forebear's Blade

*Pay forward the Accursed's gift.
*Advance rapidly with Hunger, use the fruits of that growth to improve your seals of enhancement. Use said seals on yourself and Catherine to produce two formidable combatants. She scales as you do, and Hunger scales quickly.
*Catherine with your buffs is a superior physical force, while you retain the utility of sealing for support and counter-utility.
*Decent mitigation with the Forebear's Blade.
*Would be awfully convenient if one needed a spare pilot for some form of biomechanical abomination.

[ ] Luna Conquerer

Accretion, Gisena Allria, Hunger, Forebear's Blade

*The highest synergy of the popular Accretion elements
*Very high power, but somewhat lacks proactive utility. Accretion + Hunger + Forebear's Blade allows for a rapid rate of advance which means easier access to findross for Gisena if you can figure out the method.
*Strong through every stage of early, mid, and late game, so long as you have straightforward challenges.
*Accretion gives some natural resistance to the Apocryphal Curse which Gisena can also mitigate

[ ] Muscle Wizard

Accretion, Intensify, Retinue, Relinquishment

*The ultimate option, the destined path
*Just look at the thread tags
*Use Intensify to magnify the power of Accretion while narrowing its scope...
*Allows the power of Accretion to be applied to one's body itself, at the cost of locking it otherwise. Grants a broad and powerful defense against esoteric and mundane attacks.
*The hero's missing bodyparts make his body more unique and recognizable, and thus most suited to this unique path.
*Lategame, uses Retinue synergies to magnify his training in the pursuit of supreme perfection of body.
*Retains the fighting style he displays in this update, though with higher parameters when he gets serious (otherwise, this update is just the hero fooling around)
*Very powerful early and late, but weak midgame. Will more effectively complete present objectives.
*Extremely degenerate

There were gonna be a few other votes, like the hero's pseudonym and logistical issues, but we'll sort those out when they come up.

 

[Rihaku]

Heart of the Matter

Best to cut to the heart of the problem and remove the wurm-beast. The sheer scale of its battle with the giant was sufficient to cause collateral damage for every minute that it proceeded unnecessarily. He took stock of the implements available to him as he prepared to move.

There was the Blade of the Tyrant's Forebear. It had broken alongside him in the process of delivering his final blow to its first wielder's progeny. Had that been simple overexertion or evidence of a deeper connection? It hardly mattered now. When he'd abducted the Blade from the Tyrant's catacombs it had bonded to him fully, had leapt to his hand from the crypt, fierce and eager in its willingness to serve, the vigor of a weapon suffering dire neglect...

It had never betrayed him across years of insurgency. In time they had become a single being, their story a single legend, the hero true and Sword That Was Stolen, of disparate origin but as thick as thieves.

In truth it was inaccurate to think of them as separate entities. The sword was a part of him like his liver or heart, and just as essential to the hero's function. Before his infusion of Accursed power it had slumbered comatose, form and purpose shattered as he had been. All that remained of the bastard sword's blade was a jagged shard about a foot in length, but the Accursed's infusion of power had reached it as it had reached every other part of his self. The broken Blade had quickened once more, its mere presence imparting him with an echo of the Forebear's storied might, the power of Ruin suffusing his every strike.

But that was not the only artifact touched by the Accursed's spark. There on his hand was the ring Hunger, a band of black mythril surmounted by crimson, the final memento of his journey and the only one stolen from the Tyrant's corpse. Rumor abounded that the ring was the source of the Tyrant's martial gift, but in his hands it had only been a powerless token. Now it had awakened, bound to him by Accursed investiture and fused indestructibly to his index finger.

It impelled him towards action, towards greatness, the fulfillment of his human potential; prodded him to embrace the joys and sorrows of life fearlessly and without regret. So too was the ability it imparted: the hero's capacity to advance via personal training would be greatly diminished, but any form of conflict or genuine endeavor would grant power tenfold.

A shame his armor had been stolen from him in the hours leading up to his assassination. But the Forebear's Blade granted resilience enough.

He bounded forth, greenery whirling by as yards and miles disappeared beneath him, towards the city of white stone in which the colossi fought. The situation became clearer as he approached: the common folk of the city, better dressed and fed than those of the Tyrant's world, were fighting a desperate action against a horde of hyena beasts, which streamed like spilled blood from the dragon-jackal's wounds. The city was pervaded by them, creatures beyond number, and he drew his blade as he reached the walls, propelling himself with a crack of thunder through an open gate and into the fray.

Like a falling meteor he struck, the steady tide of beasts become a sea in tumult. The force of his impact rippled outwards, monsters hurled like stray droplets as the fight began in earnest.

There was no time to waste. He scythed though their ranks with brutal efficiency, carving a path to the progenitor dragon. Thirty stories it towered above them, blotting out sky and sun, its reddish-brown carapace mottled with scars. As creatures poured from a wound, the cut itself steadily shrank in size. Troubling.

Nearly of a height with it was its opponent, a bio-mechanical giant armored in dark grey with accents of red. Hydraulics and ceramic plate spoke to a degree of sophistication that was absent from the city around them, but its overall appearance was disheveled, parts ill-fitting or in disrepair. Its head bore little resemblance to that of a human's; a fierce and angular thing with livid gold eyes, sporting an enormous maw filled with cruel, curving fangs.

But that was hardly its strangest feature. At the top of each arm where the shoulder would normally lie was another armored head, neckless as if in place of a pauldron, similar in structure down to the fanged maw. These had eyes of green; the rightmost face stared appraising down at him. As he watched, the giant attacked, pulling aside the dragon's arm to bite at its neck, shoulder-face tearing into the flesh of that arm as it came into range.

It was probably this thing that had sparked his feeling of affinity, this devourer with three heads. Indeed he felt no hostility from it, though it hardly seemed overly solicitous.

He had almost reached the place of their duel, its radius of devastation increasingly apparent, when he was stopped short by a bolt of phantasmal force.

"Another outlander! Can you help me evacuate these guys?" An inappropriately cheerful voice accosted him. The interloper was a woman in a finely-tailored dress, its gossamer material streaked with trails of blood and gore, though none of it appeared to be her own. Blue eyes, pale violet hair and distractingly beautiful, inhumanly so. The hackles of his suspicion rose. Some form of Fey? Her ears seemed normal enough, but that could be glamour.

She was leading a large convoy of civilians out from the epicenter, so likely not an enemy. Her bolts seemed to stun and disorient those beasts they struck. It could be a ruse, improbable as it seemed. He'd allow it, at least until the civilians crossed the boulevard, but would stay on guard.

"Fine," he assented. "Stay out of my way."

"So grumpy," she huffed, arriving at his side. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?"

"Maybe I'm always rude."

She laughed airily. "A handsome knight like you? I don't believe it!"

He sighed. "Is now the time for this?"

"When better? We could die at any moment, you know. What, afraid you can't keep up?"

"Yes. So focus on the battle."

"Liar. You're even faster than me! So, where are you headed next? Going to attack that dragon? I could help..."

Finally the civilians were through. Tides of translucent force emanated from her, sweeping through the hyena-beasts emerging from the dragon. Where that magic passed, the creatures swayed and sat as if in a stupor.

She seemed capable enough. "Yes. Come if you like."

"How forward! I knew you liked me after all."

"...Circle around to the far side. I'll hit it from the front."

"As if you'd get rid of me that easily! If you get me to the head, I can bypass its healing. Then you finish it off?"

He grunted in assent. "Can you survive a fall? I could throw you into range, then sprint up the tail."

"A delicate flower like me? I'm not so acrobatic. Carry me?" She batted her eyelashes.

"Fine. Climb on."

"I'd prefer a princess carry, but this is fine too." She kipped up and hugged his neck, crossing slender legs against his stomach. He did his best to ignore the prominent sensation of her chest against his back. Her skin was milk-pale, no sun exposure, hands free of callous. Likely a life spent indoors, with servants for menial work.

Yet her speed and precision were above the level of ordinary humans. A product of her magic alone, rather than experience? No. She was composed in battle, suggesting some level of familiarity. Perhaps that selfsame magic reverted any changes to her form.

Once she was secure, he sprang forward, leaping up to land on the dragon's tail. From what he could recall, he'd never actually slain a dragon before. That would have been a memory worth saving.

Plunging his blade into its side, he ran up its length, too quick for it to toss. Had its attention not been diverted by a renewed assault from its chief opponent, perhaps it could have dealt with him, but not in its current sorry state. Where his blade passed, flesh parted cleanly and sloughed to the side, up and across the whole of its spine until it came apart as if unzipped. The sorceress followed up with another wave of her magic, nullifying its regeneration.

He attacked with savagery as they reached the head, blade-force projected into great thrusts and cleaving arcs to carve away at the dragon's skull. The sorceress shifted, holding her left arm against his collarbone to fire away with her outstretched right. Before long they had reached the brain. Crossed slashes cut it into quarters; a volley of bolts and it trembled, falling still.

The ring Hunger pulsed on his finger, a warm flood of power radiating outwards into his body, and through him the Forebear's Blade. The spoils of victory, progression so rapid it felt unfair. He would have to get used to that.

"I hope this thing doesn't dissolve beneath us," he grumbled.

"It won't. The flesh itself is nonmagical, it was only infused with magic. Mostly its nervous system, which distributed the power as it was needed." She leapt down to inspect its wounds. "What an interesting specimen! It's a shame biology's not my forte."

"You're a scientist?"

"The very best!" She exclaimed, standing up to face him with a lecturing finger. "Lady Gisena Allria, Sorceress of Nullity and genius technologist, at your service!"

"What do you think about that?" He pointed his chin at the humanoid abomination, which stared at them unblinkingly. Steam hissed out from a set of cylinders in its neck, a pillar of smoke to join the countless coiling upwards into the sky.

The sense of affinity had grown with proximity, almost sharp now like an ache. He was certain. It was this thing - the monster itself, not any pilot or creature that resided within - that held that affinity to him, aligned across some inexpressible valence.

---

[X] Luna Conquerer and [X] Cut Off the Head have won. With the abomination's help and Gisena's Nullity, the hero managed to slay the dragon and reap a bounty of strength.

Gisena Allria. She knows more than she lets on. Always suggesting, requesting or implying, never commanding directly. Does her power to nullify magic allow her to perceive the contours of the Tyrant's Doom? Instinct tells you that her powers could weaken your own, to a degree. Had she desired your death, she would have had numerous chances. That she hasn't taken one doesn't mean she's entirely trustworthy...

[ ] Trustworthy Enough - But the chance is low enough that you aren't terribly concerned. There are far more pressing matters in play. [Take 1 extra Selection below, +Gisena]

[ ] Keep Your Distance - You know too little at this juncture. Best to prepare countermeasures if you can. [Gain Null Resistance - Your magic can't be reduced below 30% by any source]

What did the murdered dragon yield? Choose 2, or 3 with Trustworthy Enough. Until the new mechanics are up, thread participation can earn extra picks.

[ ] Sword That Was Stolen - Thick As Thieves - The Forebear's cunning and force of personality. Highly likely to cause mental contamination. Can be taken multiple times. [+Charisma, +Intelligence, +Heartlessness]

[ ] Forebear's Blade - Echo of the Forebear - Cloud-shadow of the Forebear's might. Legendary strength and speed, and the resilience to exert them. Can be taken multiple times. [+Might, +Agility]

[ ] Forebear's Blade - Fell-Handed Stroke - A devastating blow of unutterable magnificence from which no recovery is possible. A powerful, but draining strike that inflicts cursed wounds from which spirit and will leak as freely as blood. Resists healing.

[ ] Hunger - Feast of Lives. The Ring Hunger brings unnatural vigor, staunching wounds and replenishing blood, but its true strength is evident only at the moment of triumph. Gain modest regeneration and improved health of the body. Briefly gain extreme regeneration upon defeating a non-trivial opponent. [2 picks]

*Your appetite quadruples and you become more carnivorous.
*So long as you feed this appetite well, reduce the Decimator's Affliction by .5% a year. Doesn't increase difficulty of future mitigations.
*Without a regular supply of animal-based foods, you will suffer increasing penalties to your bodily health, and increase the Decimator's Affliction by 2% a year.
*Healing's convenient to advance through battle. Lifesteal's great.

[ ] Hunger - Might's Repose. With every exertion comes a moment of repose; that is nature's proper order. Sleep and physical rest are not inconveniences to be pared away, but an inextricable part of life's rhythms. [2 picks]

*Like an Elder Wyrm of yore, the more you sleep, the more powerful you become.
*Sleeping at least 9 hours a day yields the following benefits: You become only stronger, wiser, and more glorious with age, never becoming infirm, as if the travails of aging themselves have an inverse effect on you. You gain a substantial bonus to physical attributes and a minor bonus to mental attributes for the day. You are immune to hostile effects that would tire or exhaust you or induce artificial sleep.
*You may sleep up to 90% of the time. When sleeping, you grow stronger with age at twice the normal rate.
*The strength of age is not the vigor of youth. It is stabler and more fearsome but less expressive, less joyful and innocent. It will not bring back what was lost, merely overwrite it with a power that in time will be far greater.
*Without extensive mitigation, those possessing the Affliction of Slumber cannot benefit from this.

[ ] Forebear's Blade - Unshattered. Turn your afflictions into strength. Your body is maimed, your blade broken; that does not mean you yourself are less than whole. Let the Broken Blade be the new complete form of the Forebear's weapon, a symbol of his dynasty shattered by your hand. Let your wounds be the battle-standard, tapestry of the sacrifices your journey demanded of you, forevermore a reminder of victory's cost. [3 picks]

*Helps the hero move on psychologically without reducing the relevance of his companions' sacrifices or his drive for vengeance.
*Massively increases your power level to about three-fourths of the hero's apex. [+Rank]
*Not his power three-fourths of the way through his journey, but three-fourths of the total strength at his height (not accounting for sacrificial techniques). It could take years to reach this level again.
*Power enough to bring ruin to high lords and kings with a single malediction, rout armies with a single strike, overwhelm and dismember horrid beasts out of myth. The cut of your blade is the end of sorcery; cities that oppose you are reduced to rubble, fortresses to ash. You outrace the thunderclap, or your words drown it out; stand against the flood or hurricane, and by sheer majesty of spirit turn them aside.
*Slows Accretion growth in the future as you cease to benefit from recovery boost. Further expends the To Shatter Heaven effect of the King's Scepter.
*You will remain forever maimed, and your blade forever broken, reducing its reach. In time you can develop capabilities to substitute for what you have lost.
*You're pretty sure the humanoid abomination is in a weakened state and its full power is vastly greater than even this.

 

[Rihaku]

Alright, we didn't quite get to an extra pick, technically speaking, but you guys were only ~8% away, so I'll give it to you but put you into Experience debt equivalent to 14% of the value. If anyone has strong objections to this please let me know. This particular form of debt has no negative repercussions aside from cost.

Synergy bonuses are not as potent as a true selection.

[ ] Auspicious Vanguard - First into the breach and ever vigilant. In perilous times, the elimination of weaknesses is key.
Synergy: Live Another Day - Competence bonus to survive dangerous situations.

Keep Your Distance [Null Resistance], Fell-Handed Stroke, Echo of the Forebear, Thick As Thieves

*A build that focuses on minimizing the chances of loss by covering every base.
*A wide variety of tactics and approaches are available to resolve problems: Gisena's Tide of Nullity + your Null Resistance, allowing you to fight with some superhuman parameters while your enemies are denied their magics; planned ambush via Thick As Thieves + Fell-Handed Stroke, brute combat via Fell-Handed Stroke and Echo of the Forebear, or simple maneuver via Thick as Thieves.
*Balanced form, a lack of weaknesses is power

[ ] Nightmare Praetor - Planning and preparation are the keys to victory. Not because things will go to plan, but because greater experience wins the day, and improvisation is merely the accelerated form of preparation.
Synergy: As Planned - Competence bonus to creating and adjusting schemes.

Trustworthy Enough, Thick As Thieves x2, Might's Repose

*The most popular options in one build
*Stacked intelligence bonuses from Thick as Thieves and Repose noticeably improves decision-making ability
*A build that focuses on accumulating long-term advantage via mental and social skills
*Naturally accrues power over time via Might's Repose
*Still highly dangerous in any fight they have prepared for, and quite potent whenever they are well-rested
*Better suited to politics & rule than most builds, may be uncomfortably ruthless
*High Intelligence, Charisma and sleepiness - bonds better with Gisena than other builds

[ ] Force Unto - Physical dominion and ceaseless momentum have defined your actions so far. No reason to stop now. Aggression and proactive force, a forward spear thrust into the pattern of the world, forcing it to respond to you.
Synergy: Bright Champion - [+Strength, +Charisma, +Wits]

Trustworthy Enough, Echo of the Forebear x2, Feast of Life

*Consistent strength and speed combined with relentless staying power. Overwhelm lesser foes, grind down the mighty with Gisena's bolts and sheer attrition. Gisena covers utility by neutralizing enemy utility, so raw attributes offer high synergy with her style of battle.
*Seek out battle to grow strong, that you might seek out battle and grow strong... until you are a force unto yourself, with strength enough to carve out your dominion
*A build that focuses on active growth in the short and medium term via the pursuit of battle
*Can be risky, especially with the Apocryphal Curse
*High physical parameters make it pretty good at piloting. Even has magical healing!
*Powerful synergy bonus

[ ] Unshattered - Cast aside this fledgling stage. Here, you do not belong. You, who sundered the Tyrant: your purview is the game of kings.
Synergy: Fell Tempest - Upgrades Fell-Handed Stroke.

Trustworthy Enough, Fell-Handed Stroke, Unshattered

*Overwhelming strength and glory of spirit allow you to more or less bypass the early game
*Power begets power
*The safest AND psychologically healthiest option
*Pretty much better than the other options even in their area of specialty; sufficient Rank allows for innate resistance to nullifcation; more effective in combat than A Force Unto, a more powerful schemer than Nightmare. Cuts down opposition in a torrent of fell power, breaking armies and nations with a single demonstration.
*Permanently crippled and slower advancement going forward

 

[Rihaku]

The Furthermost Reaches

"Hm? Asking my opinion now? Consultations aren't free, you know," Gisena teased.

He scoffed. "Riding on my back isn't free either."

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy that?" She giggled. "Well, I think it's a wonderful creation! I'd love to study it. But my realm didn't have anything like this. The technology's mostly a shell, isn't it? An accoutrement of the creature beneath."

"There is power there. Far more than it's shown to us." Briefly he closed his eyes, reaching out with his instincts. It reminded him almost of the Tyrant, or of his own power at the very height, but much greater. Even the Tyrant was a mere tributary compared to the ocean that slept within this beast. Power of enormous scope, but of a tenor that was similar to his own. And yet like him it was diminished, wan shadow of its full potential. Not dammed, but run dry. And yet it would not take so terribly much for the deluge to come again.

"Think it was holding back?" Gisena snapped him from his thoughts.

"No." He shook his head. "It's injured. Lessened."

"Probably safest just to observe and see if it does something," the Sorceress sighed. "How boring."

She turned to him. "So... Got a name?"

He scowled.

Gisena pouted. "I did tell you mine, you know. Noble title and all! That's valuable tactical intelligence."

A name. He'd sacrificed his name, and claiming another at this juncture would just see it slip from his mind. But he needed something for others to call him, that was true enough. He looked down at his hand and the blade that it held. A pseudonym would hold, if it was memorable. Something practical. And yet even a pseudonym held power. Properly chosen, it could bind his objects more strongly to him, or establish that he was separate from them.

Something easy to recall. Something as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

"Hunger. Technically I'm a City Lord, but they've likely had me deposed."

As he spoke, he felt the essence of the ring shift, become his in full, interlacing its nature with his own. Now, like a ring of power, he would only grow mightier and more cunning with time. Age would have no purchase upon him, and even the Tyrant's curse that had stolen his youth would be reversed and superseded. He hoped that taking this name would also bind the Decimator's Affliction, allowing him to exert some measure of control over it. That would be a priority in the near future.

"Hunger?" Gisena said brightly. "Hm... Lord Hunger. I like it. It's only a little pretentious."

"More than a little. Don't be polite."

"Arrogant and a liar too! Why do I put up with you?"

"I'm a noble. It's to be expected."

"Well, at least he's self-aware."

"Keep talking to yourself. It's better that way."

"Oh? Already in love with the sound of my voice?"

"A-ahem!" A voice boomed from the direction of the giant. "If you two are done flirting, we have important matters to take care of!"

It was a girl's voice, clear and high, but somewhat stilted, as if forcing herself to sound authoritative.

"Sorry, we're not!" Gisena answered cheerfully.

"Huh?"

"We're not done flirting. Isn't that what you asked? So, mind waiting a bit longer?"

"Ah! Um..."

"Speak for yourself," he grunted, turning to address the giant. "Are you the pilot of that creature? What's your business?"

"Thank you, my lord. Yes, I am. I'd like to come out and speak to you face-to-face. Will you give your word not to attack my person?"

"I won't attack unprovoked. Do as you please."

Steam hissed from countless apertures as the giant's head and chest moved forward, revealing its internals. A dizzying array of runes and glyphs coated every inch of its bio-mechanical interior, faintly emitting the pale, cold blue of a winter sky. Within was a capsule, which hissed open to reveal a young lady in a pale military jacket with accents of gold. Lean and long of limb, she had delicate, fine-boned features and eyes a shade lighter than Gisena's blue. A long shock of hair trailed nearly to her waist, white in color but with all the luster and texture of youth. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. In the fingers of her right hand she held a small text, a manual of some kind.

Emerging from the capsule, she hopped up, landing neatly on the giant's shoulder, leaning forward on one heavy boot.

"Ah!!" Gisena clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. She leaned over to whisper in his ear. "She's so cute! Can we keep her, hun? Please?"

"Do not call me that. And she's not your pet."

"Then, what should I call milord? 'Huney' has a certain ring to it... "

"Just Hunger is fine."

"What's this, a nobleman claiming to be just?"

"As you said. I'm a liar."

"You said you had business," he called to the girl, before Gisena could interject again.

The girl nodded, stealing a glance at her manual before speaking. "You're outsiders, right? Come in through an Astral Rift? We're lucky we found each other. This place has certain properties making it difficult to navigate. Most outsiders who arrive here either die or are never seen from again, but my Armament," she gestured at the giant, "can bring us to civilization."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"Well..." the girl frowned. "It's a lot to explain. Since we all look human and are even speaking English, I'm going to assume you're from a world with similar ontological parameters..."

"Hm." He had assumed the Accursed had given him a translation function.

Gisena perked up. "In my realm it's called Angletierre, but I've been speaking it because everyone else has. My native language is actually Joanian."

He raised an eyebrow. That wasn't easy. "You have no accent. Impressive."

"Of course! I am a genius, after all."

"Anyway!" The pilot said, "The place we're currently trapped is named the Voyaging Realm. We believe it's an artificial universe created by an ancient species who called themselves the Foremost. It's contained by an outer ring the size of a gas giant, with the space inside heavily spun, folded, and distorted. It's constantly shifting and some parts are dangerous. A small portion of the Realm is unaffected and humans have built a city and spaceport there. That's where I'm trying to go." She showed them a picture from her manual, depicting a highly advanced metropolis with towers of steel and glass, over which loomed a small flotilla of angular ships. If this was accurate, these people were far beyond the Earth of his time.

"Since my Armament is so badly weakened, I'd like your help making it there. In return you'll reach civilization and my government will probably pay you a hefty sum as well. If you're interested, we could even arrange longer-term employment. Rift outsiders with unique skills are always welcome. Any questions?"

"I don't work well with others," he said, "I'm happy to kill things for money, but I won't act under your chain of command. If that's fine, I've got a few more questions."

She nodded.

But Gisena interrupted, practically vibrating with excitement. "What incredible technology! Flying ships! Cities that scrape the sky! This day has turned out far better than I thought. When I opened that Void I expected only death, not to be sent to another world out of my wildest dreams!"

"Oh?" The girl cocked her head. "How did you two get here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I used my powers to tear a hole through reality," Gisena explained. "I didn't think it would work, and almost burned out that Grace. I was trying to assassinate the.... hero of my world for murdering my sisters. It didn't go so well, so I had to run."

"You're quite brave, Miss Gisena!" said the pilot. "And you, milord?" She turned to him.

He frowned. "I was the hero of my world and assassinated after I slew the Tyrant."

Gisena beamed, wrapping her arms around his left. "We're a perfect pair!"

He shrugged her off. "This is the third dimension I've stumbled into. My home was a planet called Earth. We had a technological civilization, planes and satellites, but nothing truly interstellar. Tell me about your society. What volume of space do you occupy? How many stars do you control?"

"Well, it's complicated," the pilot temporized. "The Human Sphere encompasses about ten thousand inhabited worlds, and includes another twenty thousand uninhabited systems used for resource extraction. The Realm we're standing in technically isn't a part of it, aside from our spaceport and city. The Sphere is divided into three polities, and the nation I'm from controls about twenty-seven hundred stars. But, I actually work for a jointly-funded agency supported by all three nations, so... like I said, it's complicated. It's not really relevant, none of the states has much power here!"

"Fine. You mentioned a number of other hazards. Creatures like this dragon? Are they related to these Astral Rifts? Any strategic or tactical information we should be aware of?"

"Y-yes. How to explain this..." She mused, tapping her lip with a gloved finger. "So, your home world, you said you weren't interstellar. Were you bound by the speed of light?"

"We knew about it. We didn't have ships nearly that fast."

"Neither do we, really. Long-distance travel is mostly conducted with Astral technology, either supplementing our movements or tunneling directly into the Astral Realm. Doing this destabilizes the gradient between realities, sometimes creating rifts through which Astral denizens sometimes attack us. They're especially attracted to Armaments, which can forcibly re-stabilize that gradient in a large radius. Mine is so weakened that its beacon isn't strong, so we shouldn't have to deal with anything too serious, but the Voyaging Realm also has a natural rate of rift incidence. That's where you guys came from."

She hesitated, then continued to speak. "Any Astral denizens that appear from those in our vicinity are going to attack my Armament. The... dragon you fought was one. Additionally, there are some unusual creatures and societies in this Realm that are hostile to humans. Most of the creatures we encounter shouldn't be too terribly stronger than the dragon you killed. So, it'd really be safest if we traveled together! Especially if we could restore my Armament, even a little bit."

"So. We're trapped in a pocket universe that's immeasurably vast, within which space shifts so that locations don't correspond to each other. It's partially inhabited by monsters, and Astral Rifts occasionally deposit more monsters, which will automatically attack if you're in the vicinity."

She nodded. "That's right."

"So how can your 'Armament' navigate this place?"

She swallowed. "G-good question! Most Armaments are Foremost technology, mine included. There's an inbuilt navigational system for Foremost realms. I estimate it'll take us about t-two months to reach the city's staging grounds, give or take two weeks."

As far as he could tell, she was mostly sincere, though her time estimate was likely more certain than she felt. And if she wasn't lying, it would be difficult to escape this Realm alone.

He glanced over at Gisena.

"Oh? Do I get a say in this, milord?"

"No. I'm just looking at you for no reason."

"I do have that effect on people. And I'd love to go. So much technology to explore, it'll be exciting!"

He turned to the pilot. "Then we're in."

"Great!" She curtseyed neatly before them. "Duchess Letrizia von Artriez, pilot of the Devouring Armament, Verschlengorge. We'll be in your care."

Gisena elegantly returned the curtsey with one of her own. "Pleased to meet you, Zea! We're going to be best friends. Now tell me... what's a 'planet?' By what principle are they organized into 'star systems?' And what's that to do with the speed of light?"

"M-Miss Gisena, one at a time, please!"

---

As you have taken Nightmare Praetor, the hero has chosen the mechanically optimal pseudonym of Hunger, Lord Hunger to those who acknowledge his title. Slightly increases advancement rate from Hunger. Grants opportunities for mitigation of the Decimator's Affliction in the future.

[ ] On Second Thought... - You're fairly certain that sufficient Rank would allow you to navigate this place easily on your own, and partnering with a giant, mostly useless target that attracts monsters is just begging for the Apocryphal Curse to put all of you in peril. Not worth it for a nebulous payment from her government that's only 'probably' going to occur. Best for you and Gisena both to encounter their civilization on your own terms, when you are stronger.

*Probably safer
*There should be plenty for you to explore around here
*You're still not sure why Verschlengorge has such an affinity for you.

[ ] Plan Your Trip - Choose 3 options below.

Letrizia has supplies and advanced camping materials in her Armament, though you could probably live off the land.

[ ] Speak with Gisena I - Learn more about the Nullity Sorceress. The circumstances of your mutual arrival are suspicious. Inform her of your Curses and see if she can help. +Gisena
[ ] Speak with Gisena II - Speak on personal matters. Additional ++Gisena. Requires Speak With Gisena I.

[ ] Speak with Letrizia I - The girl seems fairly intimidated by you. Perhaps you came off as harsh. Put her at ease. +Letrizia.
[ ] Speak with Letrizia II - Explain the matter of your affinity with Verschlengorge. Perhaps she has some insight? Req. Speak with Letrizia I. Additional ++Letrizia, ?

[ ] Errantry - Perform various tasks for the people you encounter within the Voyaging Realm so as to more effectively forge your legend. Slowly increases Accretion Rank.
[ ] Errantry II - Perform more demanding, dangerous and time-consuming tasks. Increases Accretion Rank at a considerably faster clip. Risky. Requires Errantry.

[ ] Learn to Pilot - As you are bound to the Ring Hunger, your learning speed outside battle is slightly worse than an average mortal's. The intricacies of the Armament are easy to learn, difficult to master, and many functions are incomplete or unavailable due to its state. Still, there is time enough for the fundamentals of movement.
[ ] Commune with Verschlengorge - There is something here, something of great import, though you feel little sense of urgency... Req. Learn to Pilot.

[ ] Sleep Heavily - By default you will sleep 9 hours a day. Sleeping more increases the (at this time, fairly small) benefits accumulating from Might's Repose over time.

[ ] The Name of the Curse - Attempt to exert some measure of control over the Decimator's Affliction, by the combined power of yourself and your Ring.

[ ] Seek out Artifacts - With wandering monsters and strange civilizations come objects of power, everyone knows that! And bereft of your armor, you could use a third object to complete your panoply. In theory any object can do, but a formidable artifact would grant greater bonuses. Not guaranteed to succeed.

[ ] Seek Worthy Opponents - Actively pursue rumors of powerful monsters & the like. Hunt them down to advance your Progression. +Stats. Risky.

And now for the most important part of the vote. What to call Letrizia?

Req. Speak with Letrizia I

[ ] Letrizia
[ ] Zia
[ ] Zea
[ ] Zee

 

[Rihaku]

Times and Tides

They traveled by means of the Armament, himself and Gisena either riding in the cockpit or perched somewhere atop its towering shoulders. The going was slow, the way uncertain, and Letrizia frequently had to adjust their route to account for distortions of space. There was no science in Verschlengorge's perusal of the Voyaging Realm, only instinct, which its pilot could only vaguely feel. And yet it was a pleasant enough journey, when they were not beset by monsters from outside realms. They rarely encountered ill weather, and could shelter under Verschlengorge until rain or oppressive shine had passed.

One meandering day, they forded a river, titanic machine wading through the glimmering murk of the rapids that raged and frothed about its shins. Gisena sat on the Armament's shoulder, bare feet dangling merrily off the side, exulting in the occasional dash or spray of water that reached them at this height.

Legs folded meditatively, he scanned the horizon, alert to threats. Here, their mobility was impaired until they crossed the river. Unstable footing would give any enemy a superb opportunity to attack-

Deftly his hand reached out, catching Gisena's thrown slipper before it struck him. It was a flimsy thing of lace the color of her hair; likely a fortune to find dyes of that color. Could he ransom it?

"Come join me!" She called, waving him over. "Live a little!"

He walked over, bearing casual to mask vengeful intent: set on extracting his pound of flesh, or at least on depriving her of any further ammunition.

As he approached, she made to pull him alongside her with a light gesture, but exerted unusual intensity, her eyes alert.

He leaned forward on one knee, bringing him level with her.

"You sensed something?" He whispered, keeping an aggrieved scowl on his face.

"Mhm!" She responded cheerfully, eyes flickering for a moment to a point on the horizon. "Thanks ever so much for bringing my shoe back, hun! I'd be absolutely beside myself if I lost it!"

"How many of these do you even have?" he asked.

"Right now? Just the one."

"Hmph."

He dropped the slipper and drew the Forebear's Blade, dashing up and across the Armament's enormous shoulders to reach its one o'clock position, where an Astral Rift was halfway through the process of opening. It looked exactly as he'd imagined, a jagged tear in the fabric of reality exposing void beyond. Within that darkness fluxed seams of color like starlight, lacing up and around each other, busily spirited as if embroidering the edges of the world.

He cut down the first creature that emerged, a ghastly thing of needles and claws, and behind him was a surge of Gisena's power as she unleashed a Tide of Nullity in the opposite direction, reknitting the smaller apertures in reality's weave, preventing them from being flanked.

The next creature was a shelled variant, his blade deflecting off its armor, but a quick strike with the pommel pulverized its guard, its torso cratered as he kicked it off the side. Verschlengorge's leftmost head snapped languidly in its direction, and the creature perished with a gruesome crunch.

"My lord, Miss Gisena, we've got incoming!" Letrizia announced, voice tinged with urgency. They felt the Armament shift beneath them, adopting a lower, heavier stance.

"We're handling it," He shouted back, but she merely pointed forward with the giant's hand, showing a galleon moored on the far bank. There was a ballista mounted atop its prow, bolts gleaming like the noontime sun. As they watched, the ship unmoored and advanced towards them, unfurling a flag of blackest pitch. Its oars moved ceaselessly through the churning rapids, steady as if impervious to the tide.

As Verschlengorge had adopted a hunched position, the emerging Astral beasts now rained down on them from above.

"Perfect timing," he groaned, flipping his sword around. But this was not really a surprise. May you live in interesting times.

Pirates. And awfully confident, to approach as obviously large and well-protected a target as this. He and Gisena combined could address either of the threats easily, but their strength apart was not so great. The ship was obviously magical, but its crew might not be, so Nullity's power would be better served against the Astral beasts, who her bolts would at least stun.

"Gisena! Focus on the beasts and the Rift! I'll deal with the pirates."

As he spoke, the ship continued to approach, gaining with impetuous speed. A set of powerfully launched grappling hooks shot out from the shadowy figures on its deck, latching onto pits, gouges, and crevices in Verschlengorge's armor. As presumptive boarders began making their way up the ropes, he ran down, severing one on his way, and tucked the Forebear's Blade between his teeth as he grabbed another. With his open hand he rode the rope down, the friction sting of passage burning through his gauntlet, and leapt to land heavily on the deck, ruinous force splintering the site of impact. The ship unbalanced, heaving as if roiled.

No time for games. He released the Blade from his mouth and caught it with his now-free hand, then turned and sent an arc of blade-wind through the grappling ropes, severing them at once. Pirates rushed at him, men in hauberks of dark plate wreathed in shadow, but he launched a second cleaving strike down into the ship itself, carving a great abscess in the hull to impede their movement.

Ignoring them, he turned to the ballista and began to saw away at the string of its bow. It was curiously resilient, thread the color of gold that bounced sprightily away from the edge of his sword, but he pinned it in place with a foot and it yielded swiftly enough.

By the time he had carved his way through, a number of pirates had crossed the gap. He grabbed a group of ballista bolts and hurled them, catching two in the stomach; they groaned piteously when skewered, golden lightning discharging through their forms. His work done, he kicked the remaining bolts overboard and dropped down the side of the ship, breaking his fall by jamming his blade into its hull, and made his way over to the earlier cut. A few dozen blows and he could split the ship in twain; such was the power of ruin embedded within the Forebear's Blade.

He spared a glance for Gisena. Armed with Letrizia's sidearm she was holding her own against the nullified beasts, and Verschlengorge did its best to sweep the largest creatures aside. But focused on immediate battle she couldn't spare the attention to close the largest Rift, and they could well be overwhelmed in time.

He hoisted himself back up to ship's deck, snatching a grappling hook from the corpse of a crewman, when he was intercepted by a foreboding figure armored in black. This was no hauberk but full plate, heavy enough to leave impressions in the wood where it tread. Darkness billowed in vast, eerie plumes from that armor, spilling upwards in streamers: the night sky's incursion against sun and blue.

In its left hand was a shield, in its right a great curving blade, alive with dark-violet flame.

As the Tyrant's had been, the day he became a widower.

Interesting times indeed. He felt his gorge begin to rise. With an effort of will he held himself back, but the instant he loosed the world would narrow into a single, inescapable dot of red.

The figure spoke, confident but wary. "Halt, friend. A... misunderstanding. Clearly we mistook you for something else! Parley?"

---

[ ] No Quarter - A worthy foe, with the semblance of such a familiar weapon. The ring hungers, as does your blade. You are not a pirate, to respect such customs as parlay. Yours is the Tyrant's Doom, and the sentence for brigandry is death.

Spill his blood and let the ring feast. Let it gorge itself until sated, and you may sate the Decimator's Hunger as well, for a time.

*Combat tactics will be useful. This is no trivial opponent.
*Though you are favored to win, taking severe damage will weaken your prospects for the rest of the trip, as you currently lack magical healing.
*Might help resolve some of the hero's trauma if he prevails, on top of a bounty of power and potential mitigation.

[ ] Prudence Dictates - You care nothing for his customs, but prudence dictates that a fight avoided is as good as won. Gisena is still under pressure from the Rift denizens and you can't afford reckless decision-making. If either of you gets hurt this mission will complicate itself quickly. Much as it galls you, it's best to let these pirates go.

*You won't have to deal with a risky and unnecessary battle.
*With your help, Gisena should be able to close the Rift shortly.
*Gain 0.5 Arete for a wise decision, but give up a valuable source of mitigation.

---

Consolidation. Determine your long-term approach to this journey!

[ ] Unburdening - Focus on reducing the impact of your mitigation targets; the Apocryphal Curse and the Decimator's Affliction, while also getting to know your chief ally and companion better.

Speak with Gisena I, II
The Name of the Curse

*The best way you currently know of reducing the Curses most relevant to you, though there are options unexplored that might bear greater fruit in the future
*Since you took Nightmare Praetor, you find it easy to bond with Gisena in the first place, so you'll get a deeper connection out of her stage II pick
*A reasonably safe option

[ ] Knowledge - Play to your relative strengths by getting Letrizia to divulge as much information as you can alongside Gisena. Build trust and rapport with your companions while trying to minimize battles.

Speak with Letrizia I, II
Speak with Gisena I

*Learn more about the polities you will eventually have to rule, likely by conquest
*Perhaps Letrizia understands something about the affinity linking you with Verschlengorge. She if anyone would know, being its pilot...
*A reasonably safe option

[ ] Power - The mech may be weak now, but who is to say it will always remain so? And diminished though it is, it still sports advanced armor and sheer mass to protect its wielder from bodily harm. Given your lack of magical healing, an ideal vessel for you to pursue strength.

Learn to Pilot
Commune with Verschlengorge
Seek Worthy Opponents

*Your enhanced intelligence should allow you to rapidly familiarize yourself with Verschlengorge's systems in any real battle
*Doesn't really play to your strengths otherwise, though you may be able to prepare more effectively against specific opponents
*Does allow you to continue advancing in combat power proactively
*Neglect your social connections in the pursuit of power. But without the power to protect, it's unwise to grow attached in the first place...
*May unlock more secrets of the mech

[ ] Balance - Do a little of everything. Inefficient, but covers your bases.

Speak with Gisena I
Speak with Letrizia I
Errantry

*Still pretty safe
*The most popular options in one vote
*Put Letrizia at ease, tell Gisena about your Curses
*Grind Accretion Rank slowly but without overmuch risk

 

[Rihaku]

Evening Sky

The man had attacked them without provocation. Now that the tides had shifted he wanted to parley? Absurd. His audacity was impressive, but a tactic that disingenuous didn't even deserve a response.

He struck, a terrible reaving arc of blade-force meant to split the pirate from shoulder to sternum, but the black-armored man reacted quickly and caught the blow on his shield. The sheer pressure of the attack tore a gouge in the metal, shards spraying upwards in a flying plume as the man visibly staggered under the blow. Hunger was already moving, swapping knife-edge to pommel as he closed to strike the man across the helm.

This time. This time he wouldn't need to be rescued, by his wife or anyone else. This time he would end the threat before it could claim them. Whatever cost necessary would be paid from his own body.

His blow struck true; the pirate's helm tolled like an evening bell as it deformed, deflecting and radiating the strength of the blow as force became sound's echo. He was forced back, repelled by the dispersed vigor of his own blow. Still the power of ruin was not easily denied; blood dribbled through the slits in the pirate's visor.

Despite the prodigious ferocity of his assault, the enemy was not totally hapless. In one decisive motion the pirate discarded his shield and lunged forward just as Hunger made to withdraw. They toppled in an ungainly grapple, impossible weight of the pirate's armor bearing down on him, pinning him to the deck. He struck with his sword through a gap in the armor but felt resistance beneath, as if punching through clay. Shadows curled and boiled off that armor, pinning him to the deck, obstructing his sight.

The pirate reared back and smashed his head into Hunger's own. For a moment the world went static and white, then bright agony ripped through his side. With desperate strength he heaved forward, hurling his opponent back and retreating to the middle distance. A sharp pain in his torso brought him up short, and he looked down to see the violent-flame blade of his enemy hanging from his side. Luckily it had slid between his oblique muscles, missing his liver and intestines. The pain was terrific, horrible, but a meagre shadow of the least cut from the Tyrant's personal blade. Even the flames of this blade sheeted and sputtered away from his flesh, as if afraid to burn him.

He raised his eyes to the enemy, who was panting heavily, gathering himself for another strike. He shook his head. This man wasn't the Tyrant. He wasn't even a poor imitation.

Blood dripped steadily from his wound. He pulled the flame-blade free and tossed it overboard. Foolish of him to get wounded. Reckless to rush in without knowing the armor's capabilities. Pommel to the head would murder most armored knights, but he'd been over-eager, closing the distance against an opponent with all four limbs and greater mass than his own.

His enemy was just a skilled thug with a formidable suit of plate, deprived of a weapon that wasn't worth one-tenth of the Forebear's Blade. Fury had ruled Hunger, made him sloppy. No more. Today, there were people counting on him still. He would dismantle this enemy properly.

The pirate juked to the side, going low, hand outstretched for the ballista bolt embedded in his comrade. Hunger sent a blade-wind into those fingers, shearing off dark scraps of plate and throwing the man off-balance. He followed with a thrust projection, pure killing force that shivered through the air and struck the pirate's chest, knocking him onto his ass. Given the weight of his armor, there was no recovery from that position.

Hunger drew deep upon the well of power within him, summoning forth a tide, a tempest of murderous cuts; sword-breath that hummed and pulsed like a buzzsaw's edge, that curved and shrieked like carrion birds.

With each blow the armor rang, reflecting and dispersing the main power of his strikes, but the persistence of his onslaught had the plate chiming lower and lower, its efforts grown feebler and feebler, until the battered darkness bled from the armor and fled into the crevices between worlds, abandoning its wearer to his doom. The ring flared upon his finger, a fresh well of power flooding him once more.

Victory, though the price had been steep.

"Wait, mercy, please-"

Now he advanced to melee range, kicking open the man's visor to reveal eyes of deep blue, trembling and terrified.

The Forebear's Blade descended, a swift and painless ending. While he lived in interesting times, best not to keep any enemies alive lest they fester and grow strong.

As the man died a new sensation emerged from the ring, an onrushing infusion of blood and vigor, vitality wound so tightly within him that it seemed fit to burst. Hunger, and the Curse of Hunger, the Affliction of the Decimator that drained life from the world, would be sated for a time.

That had been closer than it looked. If his opponent's blade had been positioned more adroitly, if he'd failed to rally and properly create distance... the man was not skilled enough to overcome him in full, but he could have ended up far more grievously wounded.

No time to dwell. He turned and fired his grappling hook, attaching it to the Armament, and ran up the rope. Blood leaked continuously from his side. The pain would distract him, hamper his mobility, but the power of his legend and the Forebear's Blade would ensure his survival and eventual recovery.

Gisena had taken a few wounds of her own, a deep gouge in one shoulder and cuts across her midriff and face. Blood flowed freely from a thin laceration of her cheek, a pale red curtain that spilled past neck and shoulder. She smiled brightly at his approach, dancing between a pair of Rift creatures to reach his side.

"Aw, were you worried about me? You shouldn't have. This gun is so much fun to play with! Propulsion of a kinetic impactor via chemical energy, what an ingenious idea..."

"Stand back and don't bleed on me."

"My, how dashing!"

"Thanks. I'm the veritable flower of chivalry, killing pirates and now monsters."

"Such a dainty flower, I may just swoon!"

They cleaned up the Astral beasts in short order and Gisena sealed the rift. Luckily, no further surprises were waiting for them on the river bank. Letrizia, prepared as always, had medical supplies in her cockpit, but Gisena waved them off.

"As cute as I'd look with a bandaged cheek, it's better to save our resources. The Grace of the Maiden means I'll heal faultlessly and without scars!"

He looked grimly down at his own wound, one more scar for the tapestry. "How convenient."

She grinned, learning forward. "Isn't it? I know you'd just be heartbroken if my dazzling beauty was marred."

"You should work on your dazzling ego."

"That's just empirical self-assessment, a scientist's first technique! Speaking of which, how is your wound?" She laid a gentle finger on a spot near the injury.

"How do you think? It fucking hurts."

She giggled. "I'd offer to kiss it better, but you haven't quite earned that, have you?"

"I'd rather have one of Letrizia's bandages."

Letrizia perked up. "I've got medical salve as well! It'll numb the pain and promote healing."

He nodded. "Good to hear."

Opening her medical kit, she began applying the cream. "You'll be good as new in no time!"

"Or my money back?"

"Huh? ...A-As if you're paying me enough for this! Be honored that a Duchess is tending to you personally!"

"You're supposed to be paying me. And Gisena and I are both nobles."

"W-well, consider this a bonus!"

He glanced past the pilot to her Armament, the beast's head silent and staring vigilantly forward. The sense of affinity between them seemed to have dulled somewhat, the sharp edge of its keening blunted by some unseen factor.

"I'm hungry. After you're done, let's go fishing."

"F-fishing?"

"You use a rod and line to catch fish. Haven't heard of it?"

"That's rather primitive," Gisena interjected. "I've got a better idea! Find a school of fish, then drop chemical explosives near them. Water is hard to compress, so it'll be even more effective than on land! We can re-purpose the defunct munitions launcher on Verschlengorge's shoulder..."

---

The winning vote was [X] Knowledge and [X] No Quarter. You have are at roughly 82% of your health but due to your Accretion Rank are fighting at 91% of full strength.

The pirate's dead; what spoils did the ring of power extract from his defeat? You currently have 2.8 Arete. Choose 2 of the options below, along with any suboptions you can afford. A number of the options below are unique to this point in time.

[ ] Forebear's Blade - Echo of the Forebear - Cloud-shadow of the Forebear's might. Legendary strength and speed, and the resilience to exert them. Can be taken multiple times. [+Might, +Agility]
-[ ] 2 Arete: Undying Echo - The Forebear could withstand unbelievable punishment, only to rise again. [+++Constitution]

[ ] Forebear's Blade - Fell-Handed Stroke - A devastating blow of unutterable magnificence from which no recovery is possible. A powerful, but draining strike that inflicts cursed wounds from which spirit and will leak as freely as blood. Resists healing.
-[ ] 7 Arete: A Thousand Cuts - In the Forebear's grip could even a common knife blaze with fell power. All melee attacks made with the Forebear's Blade now apply cursed wounds. Septuples the power and speed of the Fell-Handed Stroke and allows it to be used with blade projections. Such horrific offensive power allows one to challenge foes vastly stronger.

[ ] 2 Arete: Sword That Was Stolen - King of Thieves - It is the prerogative of the hero true to take the implements of his enemy and turn them against him. For what righteous weapon could deny the verity of his cause, or the valor with which he pursued it?

[++Agility, +Stealth, +Theft], and combat experience now yields some degree of thieving skills. Increases ease and power of the Abduction Forbidden Art.

[ ] 7 Arete: Evening Sky - Star-stuff and velvet darkness in a mantle like billowing clouds. The power of this mantle withstands supernal force and deflects the merely mundane, granting comprehensive protection against many of the ills of the mortal realm and beyond. Abducted by he who hungers, cast now into his thrall. He who dons this mantle speaks with the voice of Evening and shares its haunting majesty. Progression can unlock further abilities.

[++Protection, ++Charisma, grants superior resistance to a wide array of status effects such as poison, mental interference, suffocation, bleeding out, etc. Somewhat vulnerable to dispellation, but acts as an ablative layer to protect the wearer from such.]

[ ] Hunger - Sleep of the Just - While sleeping, the character is massively more difficult to harm or forcibly move, and may choose to deny interruptions to his slumber, allowing his body to be used as a potent shield.
-[ ] 2 Arete: Slumber of Aeons - Increases well-rested threshold to 10 hours per day, but hours of sleep can now be banked up to a month in advance. Dramatically increases strength gained with age.
-[ ] 25 Arete: Dead But Dreaming - That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons... Death merely induces slumber in the wearer until the heavens align for his emergence once more. Gain access to the [Outer Sorcery] skill, by which means one's dreams may twist reality towards one's purposes. Apply the effects of To Shatter Heaven to [Outer Sorcery].

---

A Hunger Sated - Temporary condition that causes the Decimator's Affliction to abate completely for a time. You may upgrade it with Arete. By default: Reduces progress from Hunger by 10% for a month. During that month the Decimator's Affliction slumbers.

[ ] 2 Arete: Quelling - Instead halves the drain rate of the Decimator's Affliction for six months. Additional unknown effect.
[ ] 7 Arete: Conclusion - Reduces progress by 25% instead, but lasts 2 years. It is easier for the hero to find some measure of peace with regards to the losses suffered at the Tyrant's hands, and is less likely to be emotionally compromised by events that remind him of such. Gives you the moral high ground and the ability to travel to lands barren of life, like outer space. Additional unknown effect.

The primary means to gain Arete, as opposed to Experience are:
*Thread participation in the form of (non-spam, non-GM) posts and discussion. Calculated every story/major update.
*Fanworks of all kinds, including reactions, etc
*A sizable additional bonus is applied for non-voting discussion. Almost all discussion unrelated to the current vote qualifies - story & setting or character discussion, making long-term plans, commenting/reacting to sections of the update not related to the vote, commenting/reacting to others' fanworks and speculations, etc.