Ekumene (An Original Fantasy Quest)
- Thread starter 4WheelSword
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Teloch
ಠ_ಠ
- Location
- The middle of nowhere
Plot armor, I assume
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
Never doubt the magic of being a protagonist
LucidProp
Pocky Eating MafiaDoka
Protect Others is 2 Votes above Revenge and Understanding, with Recognition at last place.
Is it possible to convince anyone to switch to Revenge? For my part, I'm willing to switch to Recognition if it shows signs of getting in the lead.
There's just something about tragic and (a bit) selfish motivations.
Is it possible to convince anyone to switch to Revenge? For my part, I'm willing to switch to Recognition if it shows signs of getting in the lead.
There's just something about tragic and (a bit) selfish motivations.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
You could do what I do and vote for multiple choices if you are okay with more than one.
LucidProp
Pocky Eating MafiaDoka
I guess that could work so long as voting's done by line.
[X] Revenge above all
[X] Recognition
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
I'm hoping to be writing an update tomorrow (Sunday) so you have 24 hours for last votes and arguments.
I'd suggest especially those currently closely losing make their points. @Nevill @Pandemonious Ivy @Teloch ?
I'd suggest especially those currently closely losing make their points. @Nevill @Pandemonious Ivy @Teloch ?
- Location
- St. Petersburg
I'm not sure how to make a point. I probably won't sway any of the protectors, since it's a valid view and my only objection to it that it is a dreadly boring reason that features in more than half of the stories. It's not like SV will readily pass a chance to aid those they consider 'their own'. It is going to be a given. So my choice is mostly to determine whether there is anything besides that motivation that could apply to our character.
I think something interesting could be made of our bastard status where we are placed in the shadow of our father and brother, and the people we talk to are the best the Kingdom has to offer. It could be something that would make us want to measure up and compete, reaching beyond what is wise. We've made plenty of reckless choices starting from joining the battle with an unknown foe, risking a scouting gambit to gain an advantage, and then accepting a duel on some rather shaky conditions. Could there be a common driving force behind these gambles?
I think something interesting could be made of our bastard status where we are placed in the shadow of our father and brother, and the people we talk to are the best the Kingdom has to offer. It could be something that would make us want to measure up and compete, reaching beyond what is wise. We've made plenty of reckless choices starting from joining the battle with an unknown foe, risking a scouting gambit to gain an advantage, and then accepting a duel on some rather shaky conditions. Could there be a common driving force behind these gambles?
Last edited:
Pandemonious Ivy
Panties, Revolution. Big Drawers. Parachute.
[X] Revenge above all
[X] Recognition
I'm too tired to argue much rn. Ra Ra fight the powah.
[X] Recognition
I'm too tired to argue much rn. Ra Ra fight the powah.
Teloch
ಠ_ಠ
- Location
- The middle of nowhere
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
[x] To protect mine
The protect side is pretty well satisfied with their decision, if somewhat confused at the inexplicable opposition to it to the point of attempted rallying against it.
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
And as such, it has happened.
I'll be aiming to update in the next couple of days
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Well said. I'm fine with 'for glory' or 'recognition' as a secondary motivation, but I'm satisfied with protection as a main. (I was also too punchy tired to write a good argument last night.)
Chapter 1, Awakenings: part 1
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
"Wake up, young one."
A voice, clear like the water in a mountain stream, trickled into her ear, stirring her. She was slumped forward, a hard, grainy surface pressing against her cheek. Wood, she realised, she was leaning on wood.
"Stir and face us, warrior, have no fear."
Fear? She wasn't feeling any fear, just soreness deep, deep in her bones. She tensed her muscles, moved her fingers, checked everywhere she could without moving more than the slightest twitch but nothing hurt beyond a dull ache. It was strange, she had expected to hurt so much more. Though she hadn't even expected to wake up again, in the last moments before everything had faded.
Josphene opened her eyes, blinking even in the soft glow of what could only be firelight. She pushed palms to surface and inched her way upright with a self-indulgent groan. The chair she was sitting in - and it was a chair, she confirmed with a glance down - was high backed with broad arms, draped in fur. It was remarkably comfortable.
What she saw was almost more surprising than the fact that she felt so well. She was seated at a long table which was covered in luxurious quantities of food and huge jugs of wine and mead which she could smell even from a distance. More interesting than that, though, were the people she was seated with. On the right, two near identical figures whose nature as man or woman she wouldn't have liked to have guessed, but who were leaning against each other heavily, hands clasped with fingers intertwined. On the left, A pair who were clearly man and woman, but who sat as apart from each other as the others were close together. The woman, armoured as if for battle and with a huge blade leaning against her chair, had long black falling from under her helm which framed a pale face. The man was lightly clothed and cloaked, a counterpoint to her bulk, a lute resting opposite her sword.
And lastly, unassumingly, but quite definitely the centrepiece nonetheless, sat a beautiful woman with light brown hair spilling across the golden skin of her shoulders. The woman almost glowed and, had Josephene had been in the position to say anything, she would have been struck dumb. She was dressed in purple silk and there was something about the feeling she radiated that told Josephene the woman was pregnant.
"Welcome, weary one. Eat, please." The woman in purple gestured to the wealth of food and drink in front of her. Josephene just sat in silence. The truth of the situation was slowly dawning on her.
"She's silent, useless. I said as much" the man to her left muttered.
"Quiet, Thunar, she is recovering still."
His name was enough for her to know she had realised the truth. Josephene bowed her head, making her best attempt at showing deference as she could while seated.
"My Lady… My Lords…" She stammered. She was sitting across a simple table from the five who ruled, the gods of Atria and realms beyond. Wulpuz and Wurtiz, the married twins. Katma, with her two handed sword which took souls from their bodies. Thunar, the bard who sang the tales of heroes. And Frijja, mother of all, Queen on highest, the ever-carrying.
She was sitting at a table with the gods.
"Please, young one, we have not asked you here for your obeisance" Frijja's voice was low, soothing. "We watched your battle."
"You're a brave warrior, girl, and true to your oaths." Katma, her voice filled with the depth of ages, added.
"I lost-" She started, doubting herself in the face of divinity.
"You marched in the face of an army to save a life. Even I will admit your courage." Thunar's voice was flat, lacking the melodies that tales described him with.
"You stood for a man sworn to us." The twins, Wulpuz and Wurtiz, spoke together, a blending of tones.
"But I didn't save him." A bolt of guilt and regret lanced through her at the thought of Fredo, left broken. She wondered what had happened to him as she lay broken against the Fort's walls. She didn't like to imagine.
"And still you stood." The twins nodded simultaneously, decisively.
"You couldn't have known it, but the man you faced carries a great evil with him." Frijja's voice turned cold, unsettling. "We can only reach so far when faced with something of this nature. We need a champion of our own."
"We offer you a boon, child, a blessing of our own." The twins said together.
"I could promise you glory in everything you do," Wulpuz spoke alone for the first time and Josephene felt an intense sadness, a feeling of incompleteness.
"Or I could fate you to vengeance against all who might deserve it." Wurtiz's words doubled the feeling.
"What can a mother do, but promise the chance to protect, and be protected in turn," Frijja said, smiling maternally.
"I can teach you all the tales, girl, and write yours as well," Thunar said perfunctorily. He was clearly unenthused about the idea of gifting her his blessing.
"If none of that suits, child." Katma had a wicked smile, teeth showing. "And if our offer strikes your heart with fear. Then I could present you with the release of death unending. The feasts would welcome you, child, if you so wished."
Josephene recoiled from the death gods offer. Death held no fear for her, but it was still far too soon, especially since she was being given the opportunity to make amends for her failings. She would choose another time and time again before she gave herself willingly to her death.
The tales and the knowledge they held were tempting, but hardly compared to what the others offered. Besides, she barely trusted Thunar not to level exceptions to his offer that would make it less helpful than it sounded.
The twins offered glory and revenge separately and nothing together. If she could have taken both, if only for the opportunity for vengeance over the man who had struck her down, the man who had ruined Fredo, then she would have done so without a second thought. She didn't even care particularly for glory, but after hearing them speak alone she couldn't bare the thought of separating them, even if it was only in their kindness.
She looked to Frijja, the smiling women whose hand idly caressed swollen belly. Josephene had failed to in her attempts to protect Fredo. She had left Theodore and Thomas behind. For all she knew, she had lost Guillaume as well, a brother and a prince both. The fort. The men and women she led. In a single duel she had broken so many promises, as much as the gods seemed to find what she had done worthy.
"If I could protect my own… If I could do that, then I could keep fighting." She said, more than a little nervous, looking at the table in front of the Queen on high instead of at her.
"Look to me, young one, and hear me well." Josephene looked up, meeting the gaze of the now golden glowing eyes set in a beautiful face. "For as long as you have my favour, your shield will never break and your blood will spill painlessly. When you stand for your people, your family, your beloved, with nothing at your back I will be with you."
Now go, child, and wake from dreamless sleep. I will be with you.
Josephene came too gasping for breath, sucking in huge lungfuls of air to fill a chest that felt like it hadn't performed that life-sustaining function for days. She followed it with a scream, the pain of her ravaged body overcoming her need to gulp down the ether. She felt she could scream forever, a sound that could pierce the sky escaping her lips until she emptied her lungs again.
She breathed more shallowly from then on.
Slumped at the foot of the castle walls, she groped at herself slowly with her free hand. Nothing felt broken until she reached her chest, where a gentle prod led to a pain that made her vision go white and left her panting again. Her ribs were broken, that was for sure, but it seemed she had survived with little else in the way of wounds. Even her shield was still on her arm, looking as if it was fresh from being repaired, though her sword and helmet appeared to have gone missing.
She stood gingerly, using the wall and her shield to support her, clutching at it as her head span. A wave of nausea washed up from her stomach and she retched, emptying what little remained onto the dry ground. It burned her throat and her eyes watered. She doubted she'd ever felt as wretched.
The valley in front of the fort was littered with bodies, more than there had been when she'd fallen. It was dawn, the sun rising over the mountains just as it had been when she'd fallen. She'd lost at least a day to her sleep, but she felt so weak that it could easily have been more.
Stumbling along the wall, Josephene found the gates she had walked through to her fate hanging wide open. One was smashed, oak beams shattered and lying in the mud. The rams she'd seen had been put to good use then. The inside of the fort was as perfect a demonstration of the brutality of the battle she had missed. There were bodies, both Atrian and raider, scattered everywhere. They'd been left, not piled or burned as the Atrian forces would have done, which meant only one thing. Although that should have been obvious from the open gates and lack of challenge, she realised. She was not at her best.
She hesitated from hunting through the bodies of the fallen for the bodies of her brother or her friends. Either she would learn eventually of their fate or they had survived and made good on a retreat. Finding their remains would only impede her ability to do what she needed to do.
Instead, she went looking for supplies. She had left the fort for a fight, not for a journey, but she would now have to prepare for the latter. A short axe and a long knife found their way into her belt, useful tools as much as they were weapons. A bow joined the shield on her back, to be used for hunting when her chest had healed to the point where she could draw it. In a storeroom, the door of which was initially blocked by the bodies of the dead, she filled a pack with food that would last.
The Palisade at the rear of the fort was half collapsed, torn down seemingly for firewood, or so it seemed from the remains of large fires that marred the ground near it. Leaning against the doorless gate, Josepehene looked down the slopes that led into Atria proper. It looked peaceful from here, green and good stretching out from where the mountain ended and the forests began. If there was anything further from the truth then that was it, since the raiders must have marched into the kingdom proper. She would have to be careful in her journey.
But where to go?
[ ] Directly to the Capital, she must return to court.
[ ] The nearest village, a long journey is beyond her.
[ ] West, into the plains beyond the mountains.
[ ] Write in.
A voice, clear like the water in a mountain stream, trickled into her ear, stirring her. She was slumped forward, a hard, grainy surface pressing against her cheek. Wood, she realised, she was leaning on wood.
"Stir and face us, warrior, have no fear."
Fear? She wasn't feeling any fear, just soreness deep, deep in her bones. She tensed her muscles, moved her fingers, checked everywhere she could without moving more than the slightest twitch but nothing hurt beyond a dull ache. It was strange, she had expected to hurt so much more. Though she hadn't even expected to wake up again, in the last moments before everything had faded.
Josphene opened her eyes, blinking even in the soft glow of what could only be firelight. She pushed palms to surface and inched her way upright with a self-indulgent groan. The chair she was sitting in - and it was a chair, she confirmed with a glance down - was high backed with broad arms, draped in fur. It was remarkably comfortable.
What she saw was almost more surprising than the fact that she felt so well. She was seated at a long table which was covered in luxurious quantities of food and huge jugs of wine and mead which she could smell even from a distance. More interesting than that, though, were the people she was seated with. On the right, two near identical figures whose nature as man or woman she wouldn't have liked to have guessed, but who were leaning against each other heavily, hands clasped with fingers intertwined. On the left, A pair who were clearly man and woman, but who sat as apart from each other as the others were close together. The woman, armoured as if for battle and with a huge blade leaning against her chair, had long black falling from under her helm which framed a pale face. The man was lightly clothed and cloaked, a counterpoint to her bulk, a lute resting opposite her sword.
And lastly, unassumingly, but quite definitely the centrepiece nonetheless, sat a beautiful woman with light brown hair spilling across the golden skin of her shoulders. The woman almost glowed and, had Josephene had been in the position to say anything, she would have been struck dumb. She was dressed in purple silk and there was something about the feeling she radiated that told Josephene the woman was pregnant.
"Welcome, weary one. Eat, please." The woman in purple gestured to the wealth of food and drink in front of her. Josephene just sat in silence. The truth of the situation was slowly dawning on her.
"She's silent, useless. I said as much" the man to her left muttered.
"Quiet, Thunar, she is recovering still."
His name was enough for her to know she had realised the truth. Josephene bowed her head, making her best attempt at showing deference as she could while seated.
"My Lady… My Lords…" She stammered. She was sitting across a simple table from the five who ruled, the gods of Atria and realms beyond. Wulpuz and Wurtiz, the married twins. Katma, with her two handed sword which took souls from their bodies. Thunar, the bard who sang the tales of heroes. And Frijja, mother of all, Queen on highest, the ever-carrying.
She was sitting at a table with the gods.
"Please, young one, we have not asked you here for your obeisance" Frijja's voice was low, soothing. "We watched your battle."
"You're a brave warrior, girl, and true to your oaths." Katma, her voice filled with the depth of ages, added.
"I lost-" She started, doubting herself in the face of divinity.
"You marched in the face of an army to save a life. Even I will admit your courage." Thunar's voice was flat, lacking the melodies that tales described him with.
"You stood for a man sworn to us." The twins, Wulpuz and Wurtiz, spoke together, a blending of tones.
"But I didn't save him." A bolt of guilt and regret lanced through her at the thought of Fredo, left broken. She wondered what had happened to him as she lay broken against the Fort's walls. She didn't like to imagine.
"And still you stood." The twins nodded simultaneously, decisively.
"You couldn't have known it, but the man you faced carries a great evil with him." Frijja's voice turned cold, unsettling. "We can only reach so far when faced with something of this nature. We need a champion of our own."
"We offer you a boon, child, a blessing of our own." The twins said together.
"I could promise you glory in everything you do," Wulpuz spoke alone for the first time and Josephene felt an intense sadness, a feeling of incompleteness.
"Or I could fate you to vengeance against all who might deserve it." Wurtiz's words doubled the feeling.
"What can a mother do, but promise the chance to protect, and be protected in turn," Frijja said, smiling maternally.
"I can teach you all the tales, girl, and write yours as well," Thunar said perfunctorily. He was clearly unenthused about the idea of gifting her his blessing.
"If none of that suits, child." Katma had a wicked smile, teeth showing. "And if our offer strikes your heart with fear. Then I could present you with the release of death unending. The feasts would welcome you, child, if you so wished."
Josephene recoiled from the death gods offer. Death held no fear for her, but it was still far too soon, especially since she was being given the opportunity to make amends for her failings. She would choose another time and time again before she gave herself willingly to her death.
The tales and the knowledge they held were tempting, but hardly compared to what the others offered. Besides, she barely trusted Thunar not to level exceptions to his offer that would make it less helpful than it sounded.
The twins offered glory and revenge separately and nothing together. If she could have taken both, if only for the opportunity for vengeance over the man who had struck her down, the man who had ruined Fredo, then she would have done so without a second thought. She didn't even care particularly for glory, but after hearing them speak alone she couldn't bare the thought of separating them, even if it was only in their kindness.
She looked to Frijja, the smiling women whose hand idly caressed swollen belly. Josephene had failed to in her attempts to protect Fredo. She had left Theodore and Thomas behind. For all she knew, she had lost Guillaume as well, a brother and a prince both. The fort. The men and women she led. In a single duel she had broken so many promises, as much as the gods seemed to find what she had done worthy.
"If I could protect my own… If I could do that, then I could keep fighting." She said, more than a little nervous, looking at the table in front of the Queen on high instead of at her.
"Look to me, young one, and hear me well." Josephene looked up, meeting the gaze of the now golden glowing eyes set in a beautiful face. "For as long as you have my favour, your shield will never break and your blood will spill painlessly. When you stand for your people, your family, your beloved, with nothing at your back I will be with you."
Now go, child, and wake from dreamless sleep. I will be with you.
Josephene came too gasping for breath, sucking in huge lungfuls of air to fill a chest that felt like it hadn't performed that life-sustaining function for days. She followed it with a scream, the pain of her ravaged body overcoming her need to gulp down the ether. She felt she could scream forever, a sound that could pierce the sky escaping her lips until she emptied her lungs again.
She breathed more shallowly from then on.
Slumped at the foot of the castle walls, she groped at herself slowly with her free hand. Nothing felt broken until she reached her chest, where a gentle prod led to a pain that made her vision go white and left her panting again. Her ribs were broken, that was for sure, but it seemed she had survived with little else in the way of wounds. Even her shield was still on her arm, looking as if it was fresh from being repaired, though her sword and helmet appeared to have gone missing.
She stood gingerly, using the wall and her shield to support her, clutching at it as her head span. A wave of nausea washed up from her stomach and she retched, emptying what little remained onto the dry ground. It burned her throat and her eyes watered. She doubted she'd ever felt as wretched.
The valley in front of the fort was littered with bodies, more than there had been when she'd fallen. It was dawn, the sun rising over the mountains just as it had been when she'd fallen. She'd lost at least a day to her sleep, but she felt so weak that it could easily have been more.
Stumbling along the wall, Josephene found the gates she had walked through to her fate hanging wide open. One was smashed, oak beams shattered and lying in the mud. The rams she'd seen had been put to good use then. The inside of the fort was as perfect a demonstration of the brutality of the battle she had missed. There were bodies, both Atrian and raider, scattered everywhere. They'd been left, not piled or burned as the Atrian forces would have done, which meant only one thing. Although that should have been obvious from the open gates and lack of challenge, she realised. She was not at her best.
She hesitated from hunting through the bodies of the fallen for the bodies of her brother or her friends. Either she would learn eventually of their fate or they had survived and made good on a retreat. Finding their remains would only impede her ability to do what she needed to do.
Instead, she went looking for supplies. She had left the fort for a fight, not for a journey, but she would now have to prepare for the latter. A short axe and a long knife found their way into her belt, useful tools as much as they were weapons. A bow joined the shield on her back, to be used for hunting when her chest had healed to the point where she could draw it. In a storeroom, the door of which was initially blocked by the bodies of the dead, she filled a pack with food that would last.
The Palisade at the rear of the fort was half collapsed, torn down seemingly for firewood, or so it seemed from the remains of large fires that marred the ground near it. Leaning against the doorless gate, Josepehene looked down the slopes that led into Atria proper. It looked peaceful from here, green and good stretching out from where the mountain ended and the forests began. If there was anything further from the truth then that was it, since the raiders must have marched into the kingdom proper. She would have to be careful in her journey.
But where to go?
[ ] Directly to the Capital, she must return to court.
[ ] The nearest village, a long journey is beyond her.
[ ] West, into the plains beyond the mountains.
[ ] Write in.
Last edited:
- Location
- il bel paese dove il sì sona
- Pronouns
- He
[X] The nearest village, a long journey is beyond her.
We are the Chosen One! Hooray!
My only doubt with the update (I love the Pantheon btw @HMS Sophia ) is that it looks quite strange to me that she would not look for her brother at least.
We are the Chosen One! Hooray!
My only doubt with the update (I love the Pantheon btw @HMS Sophia ) is that it looks quite strange to me that she would not look for her brother at least.
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
Yeah, I was kind of unsure how to deal with that aspect of it... Like, how much could she do while injured and exhausted and I think I was getting across that she was tired and wanted to just be done with the place?
I'll likely add something explicit re: that in the next update.
Thanks for the pantheon compliment! <3
