Fuck it. I've decided to post this thing here because it's thus far received positive praise...
Hand of God (Quasi-SI)
- Thread starter Donk
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Index - 1.01
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
Fuck it. I've decided to post this thing here because it's thus far received positive praise from my friends and peers. This little thing is an experiment of sorts, my first work that hasn't just been a snippet or only lasted for one or two chapters before I give up. While I have plenty of experience with writing in general, this is my first successful project and while it may fail indeed, I'm still going to work on it. I've recently finished the first arc and subsequently am working on more. Probably going to release only the first three today so I don't clog the thread up.
Feel free to give whatever criticism you want, just try to keep the pitchforks and torches to a minimum.
Arc One - Atom
1.01 (Below), 1.02, 1.03, 1.04, 1.05, 1.06, 1.07, 1.08 - Interlude One
Arc Two - Mote
2.01, 2.02, 2.03, 2.04, 2.05, 2.06
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arc One - Atom
1.01
I awoke to the headache of all headaches in a dirty alleyway. Is this what a hangover felt like? I absently thought while clutching my poor, poor braincase. I've never even drunk alcohol. Point is, it hurt. A lot. The sounds reverberating through the alley only added to the situation, and I thanked the Gods above I was in the shade.
Eventually some of the pain receded and I realized I had no clue of where I was, how I got there, and what the hell even happened. Memories were... just gone. I could remember general things like my parents and my old school, but everything else was hazy. Like everything was locked behind a wall of fog I could barely penetrate. All attempts were averted and parried.
Stumbling to my feet like a drunkard, I fumbled about for anything. A phone, keys, my wallet. Nothing but a scrap of paper on which, creepily I might add, were the words 'Good luck. Things might not seem as they appear' in dried blood. Whose blood? No fuckin' clue.
Ignoring the feeling of wanting to check every inch of my body for wounds, I walked towards the exit and promptly fell on my ass. Back into the dirt which I just now realized covered my jeans and shirt. Past the alleyway was… well, something out of a Lord of the Rings flick. Multi-colored stands were erected on a large street paved in brick. People of all different backgrounds fluttered to and fro as they made merry beneath the banners and flags erected. Banners that I couldn't read, mind you.
Nor could I understand any of the crowd. Sure it was obvious what most were doing, some were hawking their wares, others were buying treats. It seemed like another holiday were it not for the fact that most of them were… well, medieval. Shoddy woollen clothing made up the majority of styles, but I could see some richer looking folk wore cloth and silk. Oh, and while history book diagrams always had stupid looking clothing for their art, what was before me was normal. Tunics, pants, some wore wide-brimmed hats.
Oh and there were beast-folk. Nothing like you'd expect in a Japanese doujin, no. Actual animal people with the negative traits as well. Other races could be seen too, Elves and Dwarves and all that jazz. The elven people were painfully skinny looking and tall as hell, pale too. Dwarves on the other hand… well, they were a lot uglier looking than in the Hobbit. Big-red noses, massive intricately woven beards. The women? Let's just not talk about them.
Why?
This is the part where the main character of this story would be ecstatic and jump about in joy and wonder at the brand new world they've been thrust into. I… I just wanted to cry. This meant I was truly, truly gone from my home. I'd never see my family, my friends, or even my cats. I wanted my cats right now. Why, though? My life wasn't particularly good, but it was still my life. I enjoyed it to the best I could and I was still young, anyways.
Now I'd just been ripped away and tossed into some random fucking world in which I had nothing. I couldn't even understand any of the shit people were saying, let alone find some way to prosper in a situation like this. I had… what? A modicum of carpentry knowledge that wouldn't even fit in a day like this? Sure, I knew about a lot of things, but it quickly became obvious that my veritable sea of future knowledge was only a foot deep in places. Who the hell knows the ins and outs of a printing press? How gears are made? My total sum of knowledge about agriculture was 'dig hole drop seed'.
In all honesty I just wanted to jump off a bridge and hope this was all a stupid dream, but somehow that idea seemed stupid to me. Struggling to my feet, I dashed the dirt off of my outfit as best I could. Black t-shirt, check. Brown hoodie that failed to cover my bulk, check. My pair of steel-toed boots with one sole that was disconnected and floppy in the back, check. Oddly enough, the laces were tied in a lattice pattern and had a figure eight bow. More strangeness that creeped me the hell out.
With a dreadful sigh, I made my way to one of the stands of a higher-class merchant. At least that's what I think he looked like and his wares were of superior quality to the rest. "Hello? Do you understand English?" I asked, not expecting him to.
He responded with yet another string of barely legible words that sounded like the bastard child of a threesome between French, German, and Polish for some reason. Then he switched to another that seemed like some kind've Chinese mix up, and finally one that I had no clue about.
"Ich… ah, sprechen sie Deutsch?" I queried, two years worth of German paying off and then failing. He was starting to get a little annoyed at me. "Ohayo gozaimasu?" I asked one final time and he grimaced, waving me off with a hand as another patron walked up intent on perusing.
That was a failure. The paper note in my hand found itself crumpled as I grit my teeth and walked away. Whatever stupid fucking deity god space whale put me here couldn't have magic-ed up a way to speak to people?! That was bullshit, plain to see. I was thankful for my hoodie as a cold wind found its way through the street, ruffling skirts and buffeting banners. Judging by the orange and red leaves scattered everywhere, I guessed it was probably a Harvest festival of sorts. The twelve-pointed star on many banners was probably their God or something?
It hit me that, well, in this world, God probably DID exist. (Or some sufficiently powerful being that could be classified as a God.) Plus, Churches were known charities and I was poor and homeless. I looked about until spotting a… cat-man lounging about in the sun and leaning against a wall. Kind've unnerving how they looked. No hair, but plenty of fur covering their entire bodies. Kind've cheetah-ish, this guy, he had plenty of black spots for his yellow fur. I just hoped he didn't decide to 'play' with me. The large paws he was toting looked like they could knock a guy unconscious.
I awkwardly stood near him, unsure of what to do. He, in his probably enjoyable nap, continued to ignore me. "Hello?" I asked after two stupid minutes, making the man blink in surprise. Oh jeez, he even had the weird eyes cats have. I bit my lip before pointing at one of the large banners with a star on it. Then I clasped my hands together in a praying gesture, leaning forwards and closing my eyes. He appeared to have caught my drift and took me by the shoulder- oh god too close don't eat me -guiding me towards the street.
He pointed in some direction I wasn't even going to try to label on the cardinal directions, and then pointed left. Then right. He then grinned, sporting some pree-tty sharp teeth. I nodded to the man and gave him a deep bow. The cat-man seemed satisfied, patting me on the shoulder with a couple rough smacks. Ow. Thank the heavens he kept his… claws sheathed.
With a direction in mind, I set out, wishing I wasn't so exotic compared to everyone. Hoodies didn't exist way back when and I was at least three inches taller than the common man. My glasses, and oh Gods, thank you for letting me keep these, also probably didn't exist. Fuck, what was I gonna do if these broke? Crawl into a hole and die, probably, because I had awful vision.
As I passed the end of the street, I paused and looked out over the- holy shit. It was… goddamn beautiful. It was tiered, and not naturally mind you. There were six or so tiers, with the top being the smallest and the bottom being the biggest. Hell, there was even a river running down one side that split the city in twain. Waterfalls for each tier, too. There had to be at least a few hundred thousand people living in the city.
The castle at the top? Like something out of a Disney flick.
Hell, there was even some sort've lift-thing on the river-waterfall. Like an elevator that went straight up the face of the falls. Not bad for medieval engineering.
Eventually, I figured out where I was going, spotting what had to be the chapel. It was kind of small and kind of dilapidated, wedged between two larger buildings that looked like houses. Kind of what I expected a medieval church to be, with the cross replaced by a star. With a deep breath, I entered the building.
Inside was… an empty room. I did suppose everyone was off enjoying the festivities. Not a bad place, though. I could appreciate the rustic feel and it did feel… Holy? Sacred? It felt like something was there, a warm feeling. To be honest? It kinda freaked me out. I've been to churches before and they never felt so… well, ominous and overbearing. Back home they were just buildings.
As I was contemplating yet another world breaking view, a man strode out from the back, letting out an 'oh' sound upon seeing me. He began to speak in the weird Frenchy-German-Polish language before I stopped him. "I… I don't understand you. Follow me?" I asked, beckoning him to follow. The man raised an eyebrow but complied, following me outside.
While I began drawing in the dirt, I spied the man, a little perplexed at how young he was. Usually when you think Priest, you think of an old man covered in robes. Nope, this guy was younger than I was, seventeen or sixteen maybe. Blonde hair, blue eyes as well. Would be quite a looker if he wasn't swathed in heavy robes. Still had the kind priestly look, though.
In the dirt were three rough sketches. One was a house, the other was a pile of gold bricks (complete with sparkles) and the last was two stick figures with speech bubbles. I crossed all three of them out with an X. The man touched his chin, contemplating for a few moments before extending a hand to me.
With a blink, I took it, nodding to him as he helped me up. He smiled before pointing to himself and saying "Jophiel". Pronounced 'yo-fee-ell' apparently. Taking that for what it meant, I pointed to myself and said "Zachary". The man led me inside, honestly happy and sporting his warm smile. It made me smile too, and think just maybe things weren't so bad.
Feel free to give whatever criticism you want, just try to keep the pitchforks and torches to a minimum.
Arc One - Atom
1.01 (Below), 1.02, 1.03, 1.04, 1.05, 1.06, 1.07, 1.08 - Interlude One
Arc Two - Mote
2.01, 2.02, 2.03, 2.04, 2.05, 2.06
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arc One - Atom
1.01
I awoke to the headache of all headaches in a dirty alleyway. Is this what a hangover felt like? I absently thought while clutching my poor, poor braincase. I've never even drunk alcohol. Point is, it hurt. A lot. The sounds reverberating through the alley only added to the situation, and I thanked the Gods above I was in the shade.
Eventually some of the pain receded and I realized I had no clue of where I was, how I got there, and what the hell even happened. Memories were... just gone. I could remember general things like my parents and my old school, but everything else was hazy. Like everything was locked behind a wall of fog I could barely penetrate. All attempts were averted and parried.
Stumbling to my feet like a drunkard, I fumbled about for anything. A phone, keys, my wallet. Nothing but a scrap of paper on which, creepily I might add, were the words 'Good luck. Things might not seem as they appear' in dried blood. Whose blood? No fuckin' clue.
Ignoring the feeling of wanting to check every inch of my body for wounds, I walked towards the exit and promptly fell on my ass. Back into the dirt which I just now realized covered my jeans and shirt. Past the alleyway was… well, something out of a Lord of the Rings flick. Multi-colored stands were erected on a large street paved in brick. People of all different backgrounds fluttered to and fro as they made merry beneath the banners and flags erected. Banners that I couldn't read, mind you.
Nor could I understand any of the crowd. Sure it was obvious what most were doing, some were hawking their wares, others were buying treats. It seemed like another holiday were it not for the fact that most of them were… well, medieval. Shoddy woollen clothing made up the majority of styles, but I could see some richer looking folk wore cloth and silk. Oh, and while history book diagrams always had stupid looking clothing for their art, what was before me was normal. Tunics, pants, some wore wide-brimmed hats.
Oh and there were beast-folk. Nothing like you'd expect in a Japanese doujin, no. Actual animal people with the negative traits as well. Other races could be seen too, Elves and Dwarves and all that jazz. The elven people were painfully skinny looking and tall as hell, pale too. Dwarves on the other hand… well, they were a lot uglier looking than in the Hobbit. Big-red noses, massive intricately woven beards. The women? Let's just not talk about them.
Why?
This is the part where the main character of this story would be ecstatic and jump about in joy and wonder at the brand new world they've been thrust into. I… I just wanted to cry. This meant I was truly, truly gone from my home. I'd never see my family, my friends, or even my cats. I wanted my cats right now. Why, though? My life wasn't particularly good, but it was still my life. I enjoyed it to the best I could and I was still young, anyways.
Now I'd just been ripped away and tossed into some random fucking world in which I had nothing. I couldn't even understand any of the shit people were saying, let alone find some way to prosper in a situation like this. I had… what? A modicum of carpentry knowledge that wouldn't even fit in a day like this? Sure, I knew about a lot of things, but it quickly became obvious that my veritable sea of future knowledge was only a foot deep in places. Who the hell knows the ins and outs of a printing press? How gears are made? My total sum of knowledge about agriculture was 'dig hole drop seed'.
In all honesty I just wanted to jump off a bridge and hope this was all a stupid dream, but somehow that idea seemed stupid to me. Struggling to my feet, I dashed the dirt off of my outfit as best I could. Black t-shirt, check. Brown hoodie that failed to cover my bulk, check. My pair of steel-toed boots with one sole that was disconnected and floppy in the back, check. Oddly enough, the laces were tied in a lattice pattern and had a figure eight bow. More strangeness that creeped me the hell out.
With a dreadful sigh, I made my way to one of the stands of a higher-class merchant. At least that's what I think he looked like and his wares were of superior quality to the rest. "Hello? Do you understand English?" I asked, not expecting him to.
He responded with yet another string of barely legible words that sounded like the bastard child of a threesome between French, German, and Polish for some reason. Then he switched to another that seemed like some kind've Chinese mix up, and finally one that I had no clue about.
"Ich… ah, sprechen sie Deutsch?" I queried, two years worth of German paying off and then failing. He was starting to get a little annoyed at me. "Ohayo gozaimasu?" I asked one final time and he grimaced, waving me off with a hand as another patron walked up intent on perusing.
That was a failure. The paper note in my hand found itself crumpled as I grit my teeth and walked away. Whatever stupid fucking deity god space whale put me here couldn't have magic-ed up a way to speak to people?! That was bullshit, plain to see. I was thankful for my hoodie as a cold wind found its way through the street, ruffling skirts and buffeting banners. Judging by the orange and red leaves scattered everywhere, I guessed it was probably a Harvest festival of sorts. The twelve-pointed star on many banners was probably their God or something?
It hit me that, well, in this world, God probably DID exist. (Or some sufficiently powerful being that could be classified as a God.) Plus, Churches were known charities and I was poor and homeless. I looked about until spotting a… cat-man lounging about in the sun and leaning against a wall. Kind've unnerving how they looked. No hair, but plenty of fur covering their entire bodies. Kind've cheetah-ish, this guy, he had plenty of black spots for his yellow fur. I just hoped he didn't decide to 'play' with me. The large paws he was toting looked like they could knock a guy unconscious.
I awkwardly stood near him, unsure of what to do. He, in his probably enjoyable nap, continued to ignore me. "Hello?" I asked after two stupid minutes, making the man blink in surprise. Oh jeez, he even had the weird eyes cats have. I bit my lip before pointing at one of the large banners with a star on it. Then I clasped my hands together in a praying gesture, leaning forwards and closing my eyes. He appeared to have caught my drift and took me by the shoulder- oh god too close don't eat me -guiding me towards the street.
He pointed in some direction I wasn't even going to try to label on the cardinal directions, and then pointed left. Then right. He then grinned, sporting some pree-tty sharp teeth. I nodded to the man and gave him a deep bow. The cat-man seemed satisfied, patting me on the shoulder with a couple rough smacks. Ow. Thank the heavens he kept his… claws sheathed.
With a direction in mind, I set out, wishing I wasn't so exotic compared to everyone. Hoodies didn't exist way back when and I was at least three inches taller than the common man. My glasses, and oh Gods, thank you for letting me keep these, also probably didn't exist. Fuck, what was I gonna do if these broke? Crawl into a hole and die, probably, because I had awful vision.
As I passed the end of the street, I paused and looked out over the- holy shit. It was… goddamn beautiful. It was tiered, and not naturally mind you. There were six or so tiers, with the top being the smallest and the bottom being the biggest. Hell, there was even a river running down one side that split the city in twain. Waterfalls for each tier, too. There had to be at least a few hundred thousand people living in the city.
The castle at the top? Like something out of a Disney flick.
Hell, there was even some sort've lift-thing on the river-waterfall. Like an elevator that went straight up the face of the falls. Not bad for medieval engineering.
Eventually, I figured out where I was going, spotting what had to be the chapel. It was kind of small and kind of dilapidated, wedged between two larger buildings that looked like houses. Kind of what I expected a medieval church to be, with the cross replaced by a star. With a deep breath, I entered the building.
Inside was… an empty room. I did suppose everyone was off enjoying the festivities. Not a bad place, though. I could appreciate the rustic feel and it did feel… Holy? Sacred? It felt like something was there, a warm feeling. To be honest? It kinda freaked me out. I've been to churches before and they never felt so… well, ominous and overbearing. Back home they were just buildings.
As I was contemplating yet another world breaking view, a man strode out from the back, letting out an 'oh' sound upon seeing me. He began to speak in the weird Frenchy-German-Polish language before I stopped him. "I… I don't understand you. Follow me?" I asked, beckoning him to follow. The man raised an eyebrow but complied, following me outside.
While I began drawing in the dirt, I spied the man, a little perplexed at how young he was. Usually when you think Priest, you think of an old man covered in robes. Nope, this guy was younger than I was, seventeen or sixteen maybe. Blonde hair, blue eyes as well. Would be quite a looker if he wasn't swathed in heavy robes. Still had the kind priestly look, though.
In the dirt were three rough sketches. One was a house, the other was a pile of gold bricks (complete with sparkles) and the last was two stick figures with speech bubbles. I crossed all three of them out with an X. The man touched his chin, contemplating for a few moments before extending a hand to me.
With a blink, I took it, nodding to him as he helped me up. He smiled before pointing to himself and saying "Jophiel". Pronounced 'yo-fee-ell' apparently. Taking that for what it meant, I pointed to myself and said "Zachary". The man led me inside, honestly happy and sporting his warm smile. It made me smile too, and think just maybe things weren't so bad.
Last edited:
1.02
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.02
Things were just a little weird after that. Jophiel produced an honest to god chalkboard and handed it to me. When were chalkboards even invented, anyways? And chalk for that matter. Anyway, talking without, you know, talking is strange. You take language for granted for your whole life and then when it's thrown out the window it's… hard to get your point across.
Mostly I made up for it with shoddy drawings.
Jophiel seemed to enjoy them, at least. I think he found it amusing or something. I've never had any real artistic talent so it's fairly challenging to get past the language barrier. Well at least after this is all over I'll find a successful job in the Mime industry. One thing he found interesting was my drawing of a map and then making an arrow that went waaaaaaay far away. Shit tons of question marks too.
He probably thought I was just a little bit crazy. The skyscraper buildings and large cities that I sketched barely made sense to me, let alone him. I also showed him our alphabet and he showed what I think was theirs. Some sort've runic patterns that had thirty-two letters instead of twenty-six. How the fuck that worked, I had no clue.
Again an oddity, he seemed to have a fairly complex knowledge of mathematics if my triangle with different marks for each side proved anything. At least we both used the same set of numbers and not something like 'I have six fingers so our system will be in sixes!'
Huh. Apparently the dwarves DO have six fingers. And toes. Weeeeeiiiiiird.
According to Jophiel, demi-humans and the like are generally tolerated. Their God tells them to accept all, so they do. Some commit hate crimes but that's the normal human psyche for you. The city itself is named 'Kolem' and is the Capital of… really not sure what that means. Hard to match up english letters with whatever their language is. Of course I might just be wrong about everything and misattributing things.
Speaking of religion, theirs seems to revolve around a deity named 'Father' who suspiciously looks like Santa Claus. He's even got the jolly face, beard, and 'stache. Stick the hat on him and he'd be perfect for the role.
It was only when Jophiel invited me to pray before Father when things got out of hand. One second I was prostrating myself before him, honestly expecting nothing and the next there's a 'presence' in my head. Like an ant staring up at a human, I froze in place.
Then everything was warm and I felt as if I could let myself go and simply enjoy everything… so warm, so nice… Papa- wait, shit! I broke myself out of the trance as I felt something shaking my shoulder. Jophiel. He looked concerned, but understanding. "Was… was that Father?" I said through parched lips and a horrible accent. He nodded, patting me on the shoulder and then gesturing wide with his hands.
Jophiel nodded before grabbing a pitcher and bringing it to view. He closed his eyes and began to chant a few lines I still couldn't understand before his hands began to glow. Holy shit. Magic. I thought, eyes wide as I watched cold liquid fill the jug to full. Jophiel looked a bit tired from that, but even a minor trick is still amazing. He smiled and poured us both a cup, pushing it towards me.
With only a hint of skepticism, I sniffed the cup. It was just plain water.
Oh, Gods- err, I mean Father above. It was cold and delicious and it hit the right spot. I offered a quick thanks to the man above, trying to ignore the fact that I'd been agnostic for most of my life. I felt it, him, whatever it was touch my mind. Still not sure if the whole semi mind-rape thing was intentional or not…
It might just be because I'd never felt anything like it before. Myeh, whatever, I was going to assume the Father was a good guy and not going to kill me instantly because I'm a heretical motherfucker. I looked up to Jophiel and quickly began gesturing at him. Menial labor and chores were how I was going to earn my keep and he seemed to understand, nodding to me. Then he clapped his hands and gestured for me to follow.
The backroom to the chapel was sort've small, but it seemed as good a kitchen as anyone could hope for in an era without ovens and appliances. There was an oven built out of bricks and several cabinets. Off to the side I could see a small hatch that opened to the basement. Another door lead to a storage room and the final room held a ladder to the second floor. Neato.
What follows is a… semi-successful attempt at Jophiel teaching me how to cook food. He gestures to several pots and makes a serving gesture as well. I guess he helps feed the desperate and hungry. Either way, I've learned that throwing pizza in the oven and making ramen does not a chef make.
It's edible, at least.
Jophiel and I retire to the benches out front, silently sipping our bowls of soup and freshly cooked (if very lopsided and unwieldy) bread. Two apples for the each of us as well, which I consume without complaint. I ah… never really liked fruits and vegetables. Soup is nice, though. Chunks of meat and a few other tasty things that I slurp down with vigor. Never actually realized how hungry I was.
Afterwards, people began to shuffle into chapel in ones and twos, the destitute and the poor. It's… pretty sad sight to see. Most of their clothing is torn or worn-down. One guy didn't even have shoes. There was also plenty of children, orphans I would guess. Would I technically be an orphan now that I'd never see my family again?
Feeding all of them is a tiring but satisfying ordeal. At least none of them are fighting for scraps and ripping at clothing. I did see quite a few enviable stares at my 'robust' figure and suddenly feel guilty for eating as much as I did. I try and make sure the kids eat their fruits, too. Vitamins are incredibly important to a growing person and they would rather bloat themselves on soup and bread.
It's just a shame I can't actually speak to them. Jophiel is the natural, going from man to man, kindly giving them a few words, making sure everyone is fed. And here I am, just pouring soup into bowls and watching. Useless, like I always was.
Things were just a little weird after that. Jophiel produced an honest to god chalkboard and handed it to me. When were chalkboards even invented, anyways? And chalk for that matter. Anyway, talking without, you know, talking is strange. You take language for granted for your whole life and then when it's thrown out the window it's… hard to get your point across.
Mostly I made up for it with shoddy drawings.
Jophiel seemed to enjoy them, at least. I think he found it amusing or something. I've never had any real artistic talent so it's fairly challenging to get past the language barrier. Well at least after this is all over I'll find a successful job in the Mime industry. One thing he found interesting was my drawing of a map and then making an arrow that went waaaaaaay far away. Shit tons of question marks too.
He probably thought I was just a little bit crazy. The skyscraper buildings and large cities that I sketched barely made sense to me, let alone him. I also showed him our alphabet and he showed what I think was theirs. Some sort've runic patterns that had thirty-two letters instead of twenty-six. How the fuck that worked, I had no clue.
Again an oddity, he seemed to have a fairly complex knowledge of mathematics if my triangle with different marks for each side proved anything. At least we both used the same set of numbers and not something like 'I have six fingers so our system will be in sixes!'
Huh. Apparently the dwarves DO have six fingers. And toes. Weeeeeiiiiiird.
According to Jophiel, demi-humans and the like are generally tolerated. Their God tells them to accept all, so they do. Some commit hate crimes but that's the normal human psyche for you. The city itself is named 'Kolem' and is the Capital of… really not sure what that means. Hard to match up english letters with whatever their language is. Of course I might just be wrong about everything and misattributing things.
Speaking of religion, theirs seems to revolve around a deity named 'Father' who suspiciously looks like Santa Claus. He's even got the jolly face, beard, and 'stache. Stick the hat on him and he'd be perfect for the role.
It was only when Jophiel invited me to pray before Father when things got out of hand. One second I was prostrating myself before him, honestly expecting nothing and the next there's a 'presence' in my head. Like an ant staring up at a human, I froze in place.
Then everything was warm and I felt as if I could let myself go and simply enjoy everything… so warm, so nice… Papa- wait, shit! I broke myself out of the trance as I felt something shaking my shoulder. Jophiel. He looked concerned, but understanding. "Was… was that Father?" I said through parched lips and a horrible accent. He nodded, patting me on the shoulder and then gesturing wide with his hands.
Jophiel nodded before grabbing a pitcher and bringing it to view. He closed his eyes and began to chant a few lines I still couldn't understand before his hands began to glow. Holy shit. Magic. I thought, eyes wide as I watched cold liquid fill the jug to full. Jophiel looked a bit tired from that, but even a minor trick is still amazing. He smiled and poured us both a cup, pushing it towards me.
With only a hint of skepticism, I sniffed the cup. It was just plain water.
Oh, Gods- err, I mean Father above. It was cold and delicious and it hit the right spot. I offered a quick thanks to the man above, trying to ignore the fact that I'd been agnostic for most of my life. I felt it, him, whatever it was touch my mind. Still not sure if the whole semi mind-rape thing was intentional or not…
It might just be because I'd never felt anything like it before. Myeh, whatever, I was going to assume the Father was a good guy and not going to kill me instantly because I'm a heretical motherfucker. I looked up to Jophiel and quickly began gesturing at him. Menial labor and chores were how I was going to earn my keep and he seemed to understand, nodding to me. Then he clapped his hands and gestured for me to follow.
The backroom to the chapel was sort've small, but it seemed as good a kitchen as anyone could hope for in an era without ovens and appliances. There was an oven built out of bricks and several cabinets. Off to the side I could see a small hatch that opened to the basement. Another door lead to a storage room and the final room held a ladder to the second floor. Neato.
What follows is a… semi-successful attempt at Jophiel teaching me how to cook food. He gestures to several pots and makes a serving gesture as well. I guess he helps feed the desperate and hungry. Either way, I've learned that throwing pizza in the oven and making ramen does not a chef make.
It's edible, at least.
Jophiel and I retire to the benches out front, silently sipping our bowls of soup and freshly cooked (if very lopsided and unwieldy) bread. Two apples for the each of us as well, which I consume without complaint. I ah… never really liked fruits and vegetables. Soup is nice, though. Chunks of meat and a few other tasty things that I slurp down with vigor. Never actually realized how hungry I was.
Afterwards, people began to shuffle into chapel in ones and twos, the destitute and the poor. It's… pretty sad sight to see. Most of their clothing is torn or worn-down. One guy didn't even have shoes. There was also plenty of children, orphans I would guess. Would I technically be an orphan now that I'd never see my family again?
Feeding all of them is a tiring but satisfying ordeal. At least none of them are fighting for scraps and ripping at clothing. I did see quite a few enviable stares at my 'robust' figure and suddenly feel guilty for eating as much as I did. I try and make sure the kids eat their fruits, too. Vitamins are incredibly important to a growing person and they would rather bloat themselves on soup and bread.
It's just a shame I can't actually speak to them. Jophiel is the natural, going from man to man, kindly giving them a few words, making sure everyone is fed. And here I am, just pouring soup into bowls and watching. Useless, like I always was.
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1.03
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.03
The rest of the night is calm as the homeless slowly leave, their spirits in much higher state than before. With a belly full of warm food and a few articles of clothing given out. It was probably around October, right? Suddenly I felt like even more of a shit. Winter would be fast approaching and winter never spelt good occasions for the homeless.
It just meant a cold death.
Jophiel finishes up seeing off the last patrons, giving one of them a warm hug. He looks up to see me watching with a forlorn face and frowns lightly. I sigh and shake my head, gathering up bowls and earthenware plates to wash. Joph joins me in putting away the few tables he owns while I set about the task of cleaning.
What I wouldn't do for a dishwasher... by the end of it, my hands are pink and shrivelled, but at least everything is squick and clean. After drying, I approach Jophiel with a bit of regret. He looks up in confusion as I hand over the hoodie I arrived in, showing off its (not really) masterful qualities and now lack dirt covering it. While amazed at its uniformity and craftsmanship, I gesture pawning it off, handing one thing over and receiving something in return. Its the best idea I've got for earning my keep, and something like my hoodie'll go for a fair amount of money. I hope.
He gets serious and looks straight into my eyes before nodding and gently folding the article up. He gestures around and then towards the third room's ladder, letting out a snoring sound before smiling. Jophiel then waves to me and exits, leaving me alone in the old chapel.
...huh, I never thought that through, did I?
There's an obvious lack of things to do. I can't do what I would normally do as most of the things don't exist. I also can't read. With a sigh, I entreat myself to climbing to the second floor, wood squeaking as I ascend. Huh, Joph has a decently sized bunk bed arranged in one corner, alongside a table and chair. A small chest sits pushed against one wall.
One thing draws my eye, a picture sitting at the desk for all to see. On it is what I can guess is a younger Jophiel and his parental figures. A little sister too, from the looks of it. Must be magic because I somehow doubt they've got functional cameras… unless they do and somehow forgot about hundreds of other modern inventions.
At least there is a window in this spartan little room. Outside the window I can see the festivities in all their glory. Strange blue lanterns have been put up and people flit to and fro, enjoying themselves. Children play games and adults converse with one another, enjoying the bounty of food put out there. Under the fading sunlight, it all seems like out of a fairy tale, a fantastical city enjoying its harvest.
This would be the time for a descending army of darkness, but alas nothing happens. That and I'm no grand hero meant to stop them. Actually, I'd probably just straight up die if that were to happen. With a sigh, I resign myself to climbing up to the top bunk, momentarily begrudging the not-so-soft straw bedding covered by scratchy cloth.
Sleep comes quickly enough to surprise me.
No dreams, not that I ever remember any. With a groan, I teeter perilously over the edge of my borrowed bed, trying to ignore the tolling of bells and the sounds of stirring below. Why couldn't the carpenter who made these have added rails? After a few seconds of adrenaline rushing to the brain, I manage to not fall the deadly height of six or so feet.
"Jophiel?" I ask, receiving a grunt in return. Seems my new companion is no early-riser either. What time is it? Gah. Still dark outside, that's never a time to be awake… though to be fair, some of my sleeping habits back home were off the charts. While blearily blinking the sleep away, Jophiel moves to his desk and pulls out something shiny. Two golden coins. My eyes widen a fraction and he smiles, nodding.
Not one to be a prude, I gesture to my own clothes while absently pulling a bit of straw out. He shakes his head grimly, pinching two fingers and rubbing them together while moving his head to the left and right. I shrug, yawning once more and he accepts it, dragging the both of us to the kitchen.
Well, it's a hearty meal at least.
Certainly better than boiled ramen or frozen pizza... one thing that comes to mind is my overweight ass and fuck, I'm going to have to exercise, aren't I? Once we finish our meal of barley bread and a few rashers of bacon alongside a hearty glass of milk, I stand up from the table, looking at Jophiel. He's curious, but I think we've both worked out that I'm an eccentric motherfucker.
I proceed to jog in place, gesturing wildly at him in a few exercise-poses. He blinks, amused at my bulk attempting to mimic a soldier. Then he nods and points to the backdoor. Stationed behind the church is a yard, of sorts. I never mentioned that his humble little chapel was pushed right up against the unnatural mesa. There's at least twenty feet's worth of grass settled there, alongside a small fire pit and one bench. Huh. Nice place he's got back here.
Now for the hard part.
I'll digress and say it was a pitiful effort. Thank the God- err, The Father nobody was watching. At least, I hoped Jophiel wasn't sitting there recording me with what amounted to a magical camcorder. Either way, it amounted to me heaving and wheezing and getting back up to run just a little more. Jumping jacks, push ups, pull ups… fuck, why are they so painful? Who invented pain anyway? Why, Father?
Thankfully, Jophiel arrived after I 'finished', gracing my wallowing form with a glass of cold water and a splash of holy magic to fix me up. It felt similar to what being in the presence of Father was, just less, well, Fatherly. Warm and invigorating, it spread throughout me and my sweat-filled clothing, cleaning me up and leaving me smelling of… elderberries? Some kind of fruit.
After that mess, Jophiel and I went on a little shopping trip. This place was… strange, but nice. I've only lived in a small city that barely passed the mark of 'town'. I've never actually seen a market or its modern day equivalent. Unless you count Walmart, that is. Judging by the lack of "Cleanup on aisle six" and hordes of people gunning for sales, I doubted it.
It was more personal.
If that made sense at all. I dunno, there's just something about walking through a marketplace after a harvest festival. The festivities are on the down low, and while merchants still hawk their wares, it wasn't so 'BUY MY SHIT YOU FUCK' as what I expected.
Anyway, I got to buy some new digs. I say digs, but they were pretty plain. They itched too, you wouldn't believe how much they itch. I still kept my own drawers on, if you're wondering. Alongside that, we picked up general supplies. Food, hygienic things, a few wooden utensils, plus extra chalk. (Still no clue where the hell they got chalk and chalkboards.)
Afterwards, we retreated back to the chapel just in time for what I guessed was a daily prayer thing. Twenty or thirty people showed up to listen to Jophiel while I sat near the back, watching for the most part. Still can't quite understand what people are saying. They all seemed to respect him, at least. Most of the worshippers seemed the hardy, farming sort. Calloused hands and threadbare clothing. I'd still be a little iffy on the whole faith thing, but near the end… another one of those warm embraces spread out through the chapel, just barely there. Like a soft hug. It seemed to embolden the spirits of the people there, at least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's the first three. Short, but the chapters are meant to be like that. While I'm at it, anyone mind explaining how to add the Index feature?
The rest of the night is calm as the homeless slowly leave, their spirits in much higher state than before. With a belly full of warm food and a few articles of clothing given out. It was probably around October, right? Suddenly I felt like even more of a shit. Winter would be fast approaching and winter never spelt good occasions for the homeless.
It just meant a cold death.
Jophiel finishes up seeing off the last patrons, giving one of them a warm hug. He looks up to see me watching with a forlorn face and frowns lightly. I sigh and shake my head, gathering up bowls and earthenware plates to wash. Joph joins me in putting away the few tables he owns while I set about the task of cleaning.
What I wouldn't do for a dishwasher... by the end of it, my hands are pink and shrivelled, but at least everything is squick and clean. After drying, I approach Jophiel with a bit of regret. He looks up in confusion as I hand over the hoodie I arrived in, showing off its (not really) masterful qualities and now lack dirt covering it. While amazed at its uniformity and craftsmanship, I gesture pawning it off, handing one thing over and receiving something in return. Its the best idea I've got for earning my keep, and something like my hoodie'll go for a fair amount of money. I hope.
He gets serious and looks straight into my eyes before nodding and gently folding the article up. He gestures around and then towards the third room's ladder, letting out a snoring sound before smiling. Jophiel then waves to me and exits, leaving me alone in the old chapel.
...huh, I never thought that through, did I?
There's an obvious lack of things to do. I can't do what I would normally do as most of the things don't exist. I also can't read. With a sigh, I entreat myself to climbing to the second floor, wood squeaking as I ascend. Huh, Joph has a decently sized bunk bed arranged in one corner, alongside a table and chair. A small chest sits pushed against one wall.
One thing draws my eye, a picture sitting at the desk for all to see. On it is what I can guess is a younger Jophiel and his parental figures. A little sister too, from the looks of it. Must be magic because I somehow doubt they've got functional cameras… unless they do and somehow forgot about hundreds of other modern inventions.
At least there is a window in this spartan little room. Outside the window I can see the festivities in all their glory. Strange blue lanterns have been put up and people flit to and fro, enjoying themselves. Children play games and adults converse with one another, enjoying the bounty of food put out there. Under the fading sunlight, it all seems like out of a fairy tale, a fantastical city enjoying its harvest.
This would be the time for a descending army of darkness, but alas nothing happens. That and I'm no grand hero meant to stop them. Actually, I'd probably just straight up die if that were to happen. With a sigh, I resign myself to climbing up to the top bunk, momentarily begrudging the not-so-soft straw bedding covered by scratchy cloth.
Sleep comes quickly enough to surprise me.
No dreams, not that I ever remember any. With a groan, I teeter perilously over the edge of my borrowed bed, trying to ignore the tolling of bells and the sounds of stirring below. Why couldn't the carpenter who made these have added rails? After a few seconds of adrenaline rushing to the brain, I manage to not fall the deadly height of six or so feet.
"Jophiel?" I ask, receiving a grunt in return. Seems my new companion is no early-riser either. What time is it? Gah. Still dark outside, that's never a time to be awake… though to be fair, some of my sleeping habits back home were off the charts. While blearily blinking the sleep away, Jophiel moves to his desk and pulls out something shiny. Two golden coins. My eyes widen a fraction and he smiles, nodding.
Not one to be a prude, I gesture to my own clothes while absently pulling a bit of straw out. He shakes his head grimly, pinching two fingers and rubbing them together while moving his head to the left and right. I shrug, yawning once more and he accepts it, dragging the both of us to the kitchen.
Well, it's a hearty meal at least.
Certainly better than boiled ramen or frozen pizza... one thing that comes to mind is my overweight ass and fuck, I'm going to have to exercise, aren't I? Once we finish our meal of barley bread and a few rashers of bacon alongside a hearty glass of milk, I stand up from the table, looking at Jophiel. He's curious, but I think we've both worked out that I'm an eccentric motherfucker.
I proceed to jog in place, gesturing wildly at him in a few exercise-poses. He blinks, amused at my bulk attempting to mimic a soldier. Then he nods and points to the backdoor. Stationed behind the church is a yard, of sorts. I never mentioned that his humble little chapel was pushed right up against the unnatural mesa. There's at least twenty feet's worth of grass settled there, alongside a small fire pit and one bench. Huh. Nice place he's got back here.
Now for the hard part.
I'll digress and say it was a pitiful effort. Thank the God- err, The Father nobody was watching. At least, I hoped Jophiel wasn't sitting there recording me with what amounted to a magical camcorder. Either way, it amounted to me heaving and wheezing and getting back up to run just a little more. Jumping jacks, push ups, pull ups… fuck, why are they so painful? Who invented pain anyway? Why, Father?
Thankfully, Jophiel arrived after I 'finished', gracing my wallowing form with a glass of cold water and a splash of holy magic to fix me up. It felt similar to what being in the presence of Father was, just less, well, Fatherly. Warm and invigorating, it spread throughout me and my sweat-filled clothing, cleaning me up and leaving me smelling of… elderberries? Some kind of fruit.
After that mess, Jophiel and I went on a little shopping trip. This place was… strange, but nice. I've only lived in a small city that barely passed the mark of 'town'. I've never actually seen a market or its modern day equivalent. Unless you count Walmart, that is. Judging by the lack of "Cleanup on aisle six" and hordes of people gunning for sales, I doubted it.
It was more personal.
If that made sense at all. I dunno, there's just something about walking through a marketplace after a harvest festival. The festivities are on the down low, and while merchants still hawk their wares, it wasn't so 'BUY MY SHIT YOU FUCK' as what I expected.
Anyway, I got to buy some new digs. I say digs, but they were pretty plain. They itched too, you wouldn't believe how much they itch. I still kept my own drawers on, if you're wondering. Alongside that, we picked up general supplies. Food, hygienic things, a few wooden utensils, plus extra chalk. (Still no clue where the hell they got chalk and chalkboards.)
Afterwards, we retreated back to the chapel just in time for what I guessed was a daily prayer thing. Twenty or thirty people showed up to listen to Jophiel while I sat near the back, watching for the most part. Still can't quite understand what people are saying. They all seemed to respect him, at least. Most of the worshippers seemed the hardy, farming sort. Calloused hands and threadbare clothing. I'd still be a little iffy on the whole faith thing, but near the end… another one of those warm embraces spread out through the chapel, just barely there. Like a soft hug. It seemed to embolden the spirits of the people there, at least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's the first three. Short, but the chapters are meant to be like that. While I'm at it, anyone mind explaining how to add the Index feature?
Last edited:
1.04
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.04
Hell… it's been a week thus far. It's amazing how quickly a person can adapt to any sort've situation, so long as they've got their basic needs met. A human being can survive anywhere, really. So long as it's not too extreme, and hell, even then it's still possible with some outside help.
Hey, I can even kinda sorta understand people now.
It's still… touch and go, there, but it works. Mostly I'm forced to use three to four word sentences and some words still make no sense to me. Damnable frenchy-germie-bastards… Though to be fair, I've got a good hand on their runic system. I've read the first few chapters of the… bible? Holy book? Sacred text that Jophiel owns.
Pretty interesting, that. The basic gist of it is that several hundred years ago, a father of seven led the people of his country away after their King died. Their home being a landlocked state was ripe for the picking afterwards, and was soon set upon by the larger countries around it.
The man smuggled the majority of the people through another country, avoiding detection the whole time and to one-up himself, lead them across an inland sea. Pretty strange the similarities between a certain religion in my home world. Anyway, he died in the end and was reborn by some… cosmic intervention and saved his people, leading them to a new home.
The Father is a relatively new God, and sadly the city we're in is not the holy city of his people. Jophiel lives in a place called 'Tristel' in the country of the same name. A minor but very economically successful country. Run by a 'benevolent' King Reginald Rothilde. From local gossip, he's not a bad guy, but he could be better, plus he's a total flake. Let's his dukes and advisors solve things for him and while they're mostly good, they can be a little greedy.
Tristel is successful because of its strategic position in between two mountain ranges of which there are two convenient wide passes through which trade travels. Seriously, they're basically the same thing pasted on both sides. Some magical wizard took a note from modern economy and monopolized the shit out of the trade here. Said mountain ranges are basically impassable and extend too long to simply go around.
Also another supporting factor of 'a wizard did it' is that the nobility in this country are the primary force of magic users. Though, that's mostly because it apparently takes years of schooling and research to become wizardly. No sorcerers here. It's a bit saddening my noble purpose here isn't to become the ultimate wizard, but there might be a different path…
My connection to Father has become a lot stronger in the week I've been here. Not supremely fast or anything, just that… well, I truly believe in him and he seems like a nice deity to worship. Maybe it's the fact that I've never had a reason to, but the Father seems to actually care for people. No ulterior meanings, no forced worship, just 'Yo dude help people out and be nice and shit.'
Well, compared to the other choices he seems to be the best pick. Primordial dragon-things, check. Giant Titan-things. Obvious Zeus copy confirmed. Hell, there's one (mildly) accepted religion out there that outright worships Death.
Anyway, I can actually do magic now. Fucking magic. Clerical magic, but magic none the less.... Though all I can really do is make this small ball of light. It shouldn't be physically possible, but I'm doing it anyways. Kind've tickles, too. Jophiel seems impressed, at least. By his word he wasn't able to do such a thing until months after joining the faith.
Though it's not like there's a certain need for a Hero of Faith. Sure, there are monsters and evil things, but their populations are so low in civilization they barely do anything. There hasn't been talk of major war in at least a century, things are actually pretty good worldwide. That's all I can really sparse from local gossip and other sources, s'not like there's a newspaper or anything… note to self, when I inevitably invent the printing press (Pffft. Like I'd be able to do that.) I'll have to make the world's first newspaper. I'm thinking Tristel Times.
Well… I do have a few ideas. Which is what brought me to approach my 'boss' after a long, backbreaking day of 'work'. Though I can see the plus to gathering your crew in a tavern to ease off some of the stress of the day's labor. Speaking of, when I'm not studying, doing chores, or exercising, I'm at my job.
It's… hard, but honest work. Keep in mind there are no unions or enforced breaks or wage laws, just 'you work for some money'. I signed up on a labor crew whose major focus was construction. Simple jobs that are always looking for more hands on deck. Either way I felt like dying after my first job as an adult. Not many young folk like myself there, just a bunch of hardened old men who are too strong and quick for their ages. No idea how they can possibly manage, but they do it anyway, striking posts and lifting planks over their shoulders with ease.
Also something to note about why things are so stagnant and medieval.
Magic. It's kind a big deal in the country. Even down here in the lowly construction business, you've got signs of it. The ah… closest equivalent I can think of is modern construction equipment. Big CAT Excavators and trucks that would normally be too expensive for a person to gain access to, but are readily available for rental via the Crown by Mason Guilds and etc. Though from what I've been able to extrapolate via gossip and talk is that the business is complicated. Politics and all that shit.
Anyway, its kind of amazing to see magic being used mundanely, even though I myself can create holy light bulbs out of nothing. The crew have these runic staffs that can lift even the heaviest timber straight into the air. There's also fucking hovercraft. Though they're more like large wheelbarrows that float a few feet off of the ground.
I take a deep breath and forgo the frantic thoughts in my head, ideas and possibilities following me everywhere I go whenever I just think of the word magic. Enough of that, it's time for mundane technologies. There's one thing I absolutely know I'll be able to figure out, something that can be produced even here in a time where tech is scarce. Concrete. Something so simple even the Romans could use it.
"Boss, I've an idea-"
"No."
I blink as he outright refuses without the slightest hesitation. Boris looks up from his meal and drink, staring me right in the eyes with his own steely gaze. The old man is a slavedriver of a boss, but is fair and usually cares about his workers, which is rare enough. "Don't be idiot, Zachariah. I heard chatter you do with men, questions und drivel. I don't pay to think, I pay to work, and while… you do work, I've no time nor patience to coddle a boy's fantasies. Leave me to my dinner."
Huh. Fuck.
Hell… it's been a week thus far. It's amazing how quickly a person can adapt to any sort've situation, so long as they've got their basic needs met. A human being can survive anywhere, really. So long as it's not too extreme, and hell, even then it's still possible with some outside help.
Hey, I can even kinda sorta understand people now.
It's still… touch and go, there, but it works. Mostly I'm forced to use three to four word sentences and some words still make no sense to me. Damnable frenchy-germie-bastards… Though to be fair, I've got a good hand on their runic system. I've read the first few chapters of the… bible? Holy book? Sacred text that Jophiel owns.
Pretty interesting, that. The basic gist of it is that several hundred years ago, a father of seven led the people of his country away after their King died. Their home being a landlocked state was ripe for the picking afterwards, and was soon set upon by the larger countries around it.
The man smuggled the majority of the people through another country, avoiding detection the whole time and to one-up himself, lead them across an inland sea. Pretty strange the similarities between a certain religion in my home world. Anyway, he died in the end and was reborn by some… cosmic intervention and saved his people, leading them to a new home.
The Father is a relatively new God, and sadly the city we're in is not the holy city of his people. Jophiel lives in a place called 'Tristel' in the country of the same name. A minor but very economically successful country. Run by a 'benevolent' King Reginald Rothilde. From local gossip, he's not a bad guy, but he could be better, plus he's a total flake. Let's his dukes and advisors solve things for him and while they're mostly good, they can be a little greedy.
Tristel is successful because of its strategic position in between two mountain ranges of which there are two convenient wide passes through which trade travels. Seriously, they're basically the same thing pasted on both sides. Some magical wizard took a note from modern economy and monopolized the shit out of the trade here. Said mountain ranges are basically impassable and extend too long to simply go around.
Also another supporting factor of 'a wizard did it' is that the nobility in this country are the primary force of magic users. Though, that's mostly because it apparently takes years of schooling and research to become wizardly. No sorcerers here. It's a bit saddening my noble purpose here isn't to become the ultimate wizard, but there might be a different path…
My connection to Father has become a lot stronger in the week I've been here. Not supremely fast or anything, just that… well, I truly believe in him and he seems like a nice deity to worship. Maybe it's the fact that I've never had a reason to, but the Father seems to actually care for people. No ulterior meanings, no forced worship, just 'Yo dude help people out and be nice and shit.'
Well, compared to the other choices he seems to be the best pick. Primordial dragon-things, check. Giant Titan-things. Obvious Zeus copy confirmed. Hell, there's one (mildly) accepted religion out there that outright worships Death.
Anyway, I can actually do magic now. Fucking magic. Clerical magic, but magic none the less.... Though all I can really do is make this small ball of light. It shouldn't be physically possible, but I'm doing it anyways. Kind've tickles, too. Jophiel seems impressed, at least. By his word he wasn't able to do such a thing until months after joining the faith.
Though it's not like there's a certain need for a Hero of Faith. Sure, there are monsters and evil things, but their populations are so low in civilization they barely do anything. There hasn't been talk of major war in at least a century, things are actually pretty good worldwide. That's all I can really sparse from local gossip and other sources, s'not like there's a newspaper or anything… note to self, when I inevitably invent the printing press (Pffft. Like I'd be able to do that.) I'll have to make the world's first newspaper. I'm thinking Tristel Times.
Well… I do have a few ideas. Which is what brought me to approach my 'boss' after a long, backbreaking day of 'work'. Though I can see the plus to gathering your crew in a tavern to ease off some of the stress of the day's labor. Speaking of, when I'm not studying, doing chores, or exercising, I'm at my job.
It's… hard, but honest work. Keep in mind there are no unions or enforced breaks or wage laws, just 'you work for some money'. I signed up on a labor crew whose major focus was construction. Simple jobs that are always looking for more hands on deck. Either way I felt like dying after my first job as an adult. Not many young folk like myself there, just a bunch of hardened old men who are too strong and quick for their ages. No idea how they can possibly manage, but they do it anyway, striking posts and lifting planks over their shoulders with ease.
Also something to note about why things are so stagnant and medieval.
Magic. It's kind a big deal in the country. Even down here in the lowly construction business, you've got signs of it. The ah… closest equivalent I can think of is modern construction equipment. Big CAT Excavators and trucks that would normally be too expensive for a person to gain access to, but are readily available for rental via the Crown by Mason Guilds and etc. Though from what I've been able to extrapolate via gossip and talk is that the business is complicated. Politics and all that shit.
Anyway, its kind of amazing to see magic being used mundanely, even though I myself can create holy light bulbs out of nothing. The crew have these runic staffs that can lift even the heaviest timber straight into the air. There's also fucking hovercraft. Though they're more like large wheelbarrows that float a few feet off of the ground.
I take a deep breath and forgo the frantic thoughts in my head, ideas and possibilities following me everywhere I go whenever I just think of the word magic. Enough of that, it's time for mundane technologies. There's one thing I absolutely know I'll be able to figure out, something that can be produced even here in a time where tech is scarce. Concrete. Something so simple even the Romans could use it.
"Boss, I've an idea-"
"No."
I blink as he outright refuses without the slightest hesitation. Boris looks up from his meal and drink, staring me right in the eyes with his own steely gaze. The old man is a slavedriver of a boss, but is fair and usually cares about his workers, which is rare enough. "Don't be idiot, Zachariah. I heard chatter you do with men, questions und drivel. I don't pay to think, I pay to work, and while… you do work, I've no time nor patience to coddle a boy's fantasies. Leave me to my dinner."
Huh. Fuck.
1.05
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.05
Well… that was a bust. I even forgot to correct him about my name as I slink back towards my corner of the tavern where cold cuts and cheese await me. Alongside a mug of watered down ale. (The alcohol thing was kind of a myth, by the way. People drink plenty of water, its just they enjoy alcohol a lot more.) Speaking of ale, my first drink was a little… enlightening. My co workers certainly didn't help, egging me on that first night. The hangover the next morning would've killed me were it not for Jophiel, praise his heart. Healing spells are a blessing on his world.
My poor chalkboard, filled with notes, goes ignored.
"Boss refuse?" one of the guys at my table asked when I returned. His name was Rhe'jo, a beastman whose ancestors were 'born from the sands themselves'. If I had to compare him to anything, it'd be one of the Khajit from the Elder Scrolls, that or some sort've humanoid dune cat from Africa. He was a nice guy and only knew as much of the language as I did. Usually we worked together in a companionable silence, neither of us capable of having long or complex conversations.
I gave a nod full of remorse, sighing as I took a seat. Leaning my head against the wall, I spoke up. "Yeah. Expected it. Probably thinks me mad."
Our other friend was the only person around my age, Jon, a young man of seventeen who sought work to support his mum and family. Fairly standard backstory, though he was certainly full of character. "Bah. Boss is stupid, anyway. Doesn't understand what you think. Therefore no sense." he said, myself only picking up what I could from his speech as he continued to ramble on about the business. Jon was a bit of a chatterbox when he got going, mouth saying things before his mind could catch up.
Rhe shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. How they dealt with liquids getting in their mouth fur I had no idea. "Is good idea. Make sense. Obviously real. You speak like scholar… or, bah. Scribe? Artee-fissur?" he queried. "Konkreet good idea. Easier than brick, least."
"Yeah. He was only chance though." I said, forlornly staring into my cup. "No connections. No options. Can't just run into castle, be tossed in jail." I looked toward my chalkboard, scribbled on which were my designs. My former life in learning the architecture trade lent at least a few bonuses. Concrete, and its binding agent cement shouldn't be difficult for a medieval society to create, right? I had no way to know as I had no laboratory or workshop.
"No money." I said as well, sighing again. Both Rhe'ja and Jon nodded, understanding of my and their plight. Money did a lot of things, no matter where you go. It greased hands and it paid for things. My current job didn't pay much, only enough to cover expenses and then some to save. I was looking at at least five years of work if I wanted to even pay for half of what I wanted to do.
With a grim tone set for the rest of the night, we finished our sup. After which, I followed a small horde of workers towards the bathhouses. See, that's one thing I didn't expect, but it looks like Tristel took a page out of the Roman's book, setting up rudimentary piping and bathhouses all over the city.
They liked cleanliness and didn't just throw shit into the street like what an Earth culture might've. They even had these little troughs lining the roads that were covered by stone, save for openings here and there. You dumped your waste products into it along with a few buckets of water, and bam, all of your garbage is swept. The only con I saw to Tristel's amazing services was the amount of man-ass I saw in the bathhouse. Blegh.
It was nice, though. Soaking after a long day of work.
After that would find me making the trek home to the chapel to my awaiting house-husband Jophiel. He usually arrived home first from his service at one of the local hospitals. I say hospital because that's the closest thing it is, a building where injured people go. Seems to be run by the Crown, good on them.
Seems they mostly handle simple accidents and the like, which is about as much as he can deal with his limited clerical magic. They keep the greater magicians on standby for anything serious, leaving the rest of the work to nurses and small-time mages. More unexpected things from a surprisingly competent King.
"Yo, Joph." I say as I pass by, nodding to him. He nods back and that ends the conversation. Most of our talks these days are simple, routine affairs. After so long of speaking with signs and gestures, we can have entire conversations without speaking. Well, that's exaggerating it, but still. We just happen to understand each other well.
The rest of the night takes a simple tone as we go about our things. Jophiel teaches me more about the language and I teach him a little about what I know. Mathematics and the few bits of physics I know. I usually meditate for an hour before going to sleep.
The thing about Father, is that when you are in contact with him and apparently most other gods, it feels strange. Like he's almost right there, separated by a glass wall or blanket of fog. Communication happens, but it's not quite speaking or thinking. Concepts and emotions are what are transmitted. There's a lot of trust involved letting him in, which I only began to accept a few days ago. Emptying your mind and letting it be filled with warm love is what I feel out of it.
The Father seems to understand my plight and confusion, accepting my wariness and letting things come as they go. No, ah, actual answers on why I'm here though. Even He doesn't seem to understand what I mean by it. Something is obviously blocked by some higher power.
Depressing, that.
Not even a God can tell me why I'm here and why I got dumped for absolutely no reason. If I was anyone else, I might find it especially hard, but… I'm content for now, at least. Sure, I miss my family and friends, but there's no point dwelling over it. Even if work is hard, even if my attempts to change this world for the better fail, I ain't alone. I've got Jophiel and Rhe and even The Father watching over me.
Well… that was a bust. I even forgot to correct him about my name as I slink back towards my corner of the tavern where cold cuts and cheese await me. Alongside a mug of watered down ale. (The alcohol thing was kind of a myth, by the way. People drink plenty of water, its just they enjoy alcohol a lot more.) Speaking of ale, my first drink was a little… enlightening. My co workers certainly didn't help, egging me on that first night. The hangover the next morning would've killed me were it not for Jophiel, praise his heart. Healing spells are a blessing on his world.
My poor chalkboard, filled with notes, goes ignored.
"Boss refuse?" one of the guys at my table asked when I returned. His name was Rhe'jo, a beastman whose ancestors were 'born from the sands themselves'. If I had to compare him to anything, it'd be one of the Khajit from the Elder Scrolls, that or some sort've humanoid dune cat from Africa. He was a nice guy and only knew as much of the language as I did. Usually we worked together in a companionable silence, neither of us capable of having long or complex conversations.
I gave a nod full of remorse, sighing as I took a seat. Leaning my head against the wall, I spoke up. "Yeah. Expected it. Probably thinks me mad."
Our other friend was the only person around my age, Jon, a young man of seventeen who sought work to support his mum and family. Fairly standard backstory, though he was certainly full of character. "Bah. Boss is stupid, anyway. Doesn't understand what you think. Therefore no sense." he said, myself only picking up what I could from his speech as he continued to ramble on about the business. Jon was a bit of a chatterbox when he got going, mouth saying things before his mind could catch up.
Rhe shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. How they dealt with liquids getting in their mouth fur I had no idea. "Is good idea. Make sense. Obviously real. You speak like scholar… or, bah. Scribe? Artee-fissur?" he queried. "Konkreet good idea. Easier than brick, least."
"Yeah. He was only chance though." I said, forlornly staring into my cup. "No connections. No options. Can't just run into castle, be tossed in jail." I looked toward my chalkboard, scribbled on which were my designs. My former life in learning the architecture trade lent at least a few bonuses. Concrete, and its binding agent cement shouldn't be difficult for a medieval society to create, right? I had no way to know as I had no laboratory or workshop.
"No money." I said as well, sighing again. Both Rhe'ja and Jon nodded, understanding of my and their plight. Money did a lot of things, no matter where you go. It greased hands and it paid for things. My current job didn't pay much, only enough to cover expenses and then some to save. I was looking at at least five years of work if I wanted to even pay for half of what I wanted to do.
With a grim tone set for the rest of the night, we finished our sup. After which, I followed a small horde of workers towards the bathhouses. See, that's one thing I didn't expect, but it looks like Tristel took a page out of the Roman's book, setting up rudimentary piping and bathhouses all over the city.
They liked cleanliness and didn't just throw shit into the street like what an Earth culture might've. They even had these little troughs lining the roads that were covered by stone, save for openings here and there. You dumped your waste products into it along with a few buckets of water, and bam, all of your garbage is swept. The only con I saw to Tristel's amazing services was the amount of man-ass I saw in the bathhouse. Blegh.
It was nice, though. Soaking after a long day of work.
After that would find me making the trek home to the chapel to my awaiting house-husband Jophiel. He usually arrived home first from his service at one of the local hospitals. I say hospital because that's the closest thing it is, a building where injured people go. Seems to be run by the Crown, good on them.
Seems they mostly handle simple accidents and the like, which is about as much as he can deal with his limited clerical magic. They keep the greater magicians on standby for anything serious, leaving the rest of the work to nurses and small-time mages. More unexpected things from a surprisingly competent King.
"Yo, Joph." I say as I pass by, nodding to him. He nods back and that ends the conversation. Most of our talks these days are simple, routine affairs. After so long of speaking with signs and gestures, we can have entire conversations without speaking. Well, that's exaggerating it, but still. We just happen to understand each other well.
The rest of the night takes a simple tone as we go about our things. Jophiel teaches me more about the language and I teach him a little about what I know. Mathematics and the few bits of physics I know. I usually meditate for an hour before going to sleep.
The thing about Father, is that when you are in contact with him and apparently most other gods, it feels strange. Like he's almost right there, separated by a glass wall or blanket of fog. Communication happens, but it's not quite speaking or thinking. Concepts and emotions are what are transmitted. There's a lot of trust involved letting him in, which I only began to accept a few days ago. Emptying your mind and letting it be filled with warm love is what I feel out of it.
The Father seems to understand my plight and confusion, accepting my wariness and letting things come as they go. No, ah, actual answers on why I'm here though. Even He doesn't seem to understand what I mean by it. Something is obviously blocked by some higher power.
Depressing, that.
Not even a God can tell me why I'm here and why I got dumped for absolutely no reason. If I was anyone else, I might find it especially hard, but… I'm content for now, at least. Sure, I miss my family and friends, but there's no point dwelling over it. Even if work is hard, even if my attempts to change this world for the better fail, I ain't alone. I've got Jophiel and Rhe and even The Father watching over me.
1.06
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.06
Magic is amazing.
I don't think I've expressively said it in terms one would understand, but magic is amazing. Not just the fact that it existed, though that certainly helped with the amazement, but what it could do and what it felt like. The concept of describing magic is difficult, as there are no words to really describe it. Like how the Mantis Shrimp can see twelve or so colors while we can only understand three.
The process is about three parts art to one part science. There are scientific documentation and records, but most available is broad, relying on the reader to figure it out themselves. Clerical magic is a different field, but close enough to understand. From what I can tell, your chosen patron does the heavy lifting of most spells, allowing you to just provide power and the outlines. This lets you 'skip' a lot of the process most regular mages go through, accessing more powerful spells at lower skills.
Course, you're limited in how you use them. If, say, you try and straight up kill some stranger with a spell your God will disagree and the spell will fail. Horribly. Unless of course your patron happens to not care that much as to who you kill… fucking dragon cunts.
I wasn't very descriptive in my earlier tellings. There are five (major) Gods that the people choose to worship. The Father's Care, The Dragon's Flame, The Giant's Strength, The Courage of Lightning, and The Embrace of Death. Forms a handy dandy pentagon.
Dragon cunts is the usual term for worshippers of their flames. Plot twist, dragons aren't the most moral beings. There are some, but the standard thing seems to be a lust for power. Nobody really likes them.
Anyway, magic. Seems to be I've quickly grown in leaps and bounds according to Jophiel. I might've been a prodigy in some other world, that or whatever sent me here deigned to grant me a boost. Let me tell you, the basic spells, orisons, are a Godsend (literally) when it comes to household chores. Mending is perfect for fixing the scrapes and tears in my clothing from work. Purify is great for drink and food. I just can't trust the local plumbing, no matter how advanced it is for a medieval society.
I'd be suspicious of their resemblance to Dungeons and Dragons, but to be honest that's how I would arrange my spells, with obvious names and functions. There are ten circles of magical levels, corresponding to the difficulty and number of visual effects. A tenth circle spell would be grandiose and include ten circles extending out from the person, each one more complicated and intricately runed.
The circles are not useless, by the way. They serve as representations and visual helpers for the caster and not just fancy graphics. (I do hope I'm not in some sort've video game.) The color of said circles also changes from person to person and source of magic. My own are a bright gold ingrained with purple. The gold happens to be Father's, while purple is mine own. Jophiel's color is dark green.
Thus far I can only manage to access the second circle. Said spell is summoning a dog. Yes, a dog. It is adorable and celestial. I have named him Jojo. Though as he is a tiny little Shiba, I doubt he'll be very capable of protecting anyone or fighting off hordes of enemies. Still cute though, and Jophiel had no idea what breed he was and how I summoned him. It safely proves my life on Earth existed. That or it's a projection of my thoughts.
Just… hoping it's not.
Magic is amazing.
I don't think I've expressively said it in terms one would understand, but magic is amazing. Not just the fact that it existed, though that certainly helped with the amazement, but what it could do and what it felt like. The concept of describing magic is difficult, as there are no words to really describe it. Like how the Mantis Shrimp can see twelve or so colors while we can only understand three.
The process is about three parts art to one part science. There are scientific documentation and records, but most available is broad, relying on the reader to figure it out themselves. Clerical magic is a different field, but close enough to understand. From what I can tell, your chosen patron does the heavy lifting of most spells, allowing you to just provide power and the outlines. This lets you 'skip' a lot of the process most regular mages go through, accessing more powerful spells at lower skills.
Course, you're limited in how you use them. If, say, you try and straight up kill some stranger with a spell your God will disagree and the spell will fail. Horribly. Unless of course your patron happens to not care that much as to who you kill… fucking dragon cunts.
I wasn't very descriptive in my earlier tellings. There are five (major) Gods that the people choose to worship. The Father's Care, The Dragon's Flame, The Giant's Strength, The Courage of Lightning, and The Embrace of Death. Forms a handy dandy pentagon.
Dragon cunts is the usual term for worshippers of their flames. Plot twist, dragons aren't the most moral beings. There are some, but the standard thing seems to be a lust for power. Nobody really likes them.
Anyway, magic. Seems to be I've quickly grown in leaps and bounds according to Jophiel. I might've been a prodigy in some other world, that or whatever sent me here deigned to grant me a boost. Let me tell you, the basic spells, orisons, are a Godsend (literally) when it comes to household chores. Mending is perfect for fixing the scrapes and tears in my clothing from work. Purify is great for drink and food. I just can't trust the local plumbing, no matter how advanced it is for a medieval society.
I'd be suspicious of their resemblance to Dungeons and Dragons, but to be honest that's how I would arrange my spells, with obvious names and functions. There are ten circles of magical levels, corresponding to the difficulty and number of visual effects. A tenth circle spell would be grandiose and include ten circles extending out from the person, each one more complicated and intricately runed.
The circles are not useless, by the way. They serve as representations and visual helpers for the caster and not just fancy graphics. (I do hope I'm not in some sort've video game.) The color of said circles also changes from person to person and source of magic. My own are a bright gold ingrained with purple. The gold happens to be Father's, while purple is mine own. Jophiel's color is dark green.
Thus far I can only manage to access the second circle. Said spell is summoning a dog. Yes, a dog. It is adorable and celestial. I have named him Jojo. Though as he is a tiny little Shiba, I doubt he'll be very capable of protecting anyone or fighting off hordes of enemies. Still cute though, and Jophiel had no idea what breed he was and how I summoned him. It safely proves my life on Earth existed. That or it's a projection of my thoughts.
Just… hoping it's not.
1.07
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.07
You'd be surprised how much traffic a hospital can receive, even during times of peace.
Though I suppose it'd be obvious in such a large capital as Tristel. Accidents, unfortunate shankings, minor illnesses (and thank the Father Tristel is so supportive of clean water. I don't want cholera ever.) Free healthcare is the greatest invention save for toasted bread.
Time passes quickly and I've been deemed magical enough by Jophiel to assist him when he goes to work. I'll never take a doctor for granted again now that I know what that hell is like. My first day and I saw a guy whose legs were crushed by an errant cart. Minced meat and splintered bone. I didn't even know legs could bend that far.
After so much damage, they still managed to save the guy from what would've certainly killed him in a normal world. It's amazing to watch flesh knit itself back together (though them manually setting the bones was disgusting.) My own role was to provide energy to the actual surgeons. Boring, but still slightly important. That and act as nurse, lugging around supplies and equipment.
Surprisingly enough, I was bone tired through all of it.
Even with plenty of endurance from my days of working, I was still damned tired. Magical endurance does not give any fucks whether or not you are a hulking monster or a stick thin wizard. Just how many times you get a nosebleed from overexerting yourself magically. It's like a muscle in that way, I suppose.
"How…" I pondered, fatigue clinging in my words as we sat for a break. Precious water. "Can you do this every day? That guy… sucked up… all my damned energy… I mean I ain't mad, but still…" Jophiel grinned slightly, taking schadenfreude in my suffering, the bastard. "I've been here for years," he said calmly. "You just get used to it."
As I was going to respond (likely by punching him in the arm or something), a commotion brought both our attention. The doors of the clinic burst open, snapping on their hinges as a towering man in gilded armor hurried, clutching a bundle in his arms. Not just a bundle, a kid swaddled in silks. "Help!" he yelled. "Assassin!" before he rushed towards an empty bed, laying down the boy.
Without a mountain of armor covering him, I could see a glimpse of the boy. Along his arm was a large wound, bleeding dark red. The flesh around the wound was black corruption that spread by the second, consuming more and more. That was all I saw before a horde of people crowded around, flashing golden light spreading as they attempted to save him.
More yelling. The knight seemed extremely agitated as they continued to fail, their skill and magic useless in the face of whatever poison had its grasp on the boy. Seriously, the big guy looked ready to kill someone.
Save him.
What? I gripped my head as the voice spread through my mind along with a wave of the Father's warmth. Wait, no I can't possibl-
Do it.
Oww, fuck, okay. I cringed at the force of the mental voice before shakily rising to my feet. Jophiel looked to me, concerned. I shook my head before waddling towards the emergency, pulses of warmth (edging on heat) making my steps unsteady. "Move," I said to one of the surgeons. He ignored me before I spoke again, louder and different. "Move!" I commanded. They moved and I stepped forward, just dodging the Knight's attempt to grab me.
Light spread as I made contact with the wound, almost blinding, something else taking over my body. The warmth now was burning, burning my veins and eyes an- it rushed out from my palm, colliding with the darkness that corrupted the boy. While no one could hear it, I could feel the darkness burning, screaming in pain as the holy light purged.
And then it was over.
I fell backwards, all strength leaving my body. But hey, the wound was fixed, all traces of corruption gone. Oww, this really fucking hurt though. Someone caught me, gently easing me away and into a seat as I panted, eyes closed. "Are you alright?" a familiar voice asked and I nodded, too tired to speak.
When I opened my eyes, everyone was staring at me, especially the knight whose eyes were hard and wary, sizing me up as a threat. Gods, this was awkward. A bunch of doctors I barely knew and a knight who would kill me given sufficient encouragement. Only Jophiel looked at me with anything approaching to warmth. Some of them looked a little spooked.
"So… How's that for a party trick?" I joked, popping an awkward smile. Nobody laughed. The knight moved forwards, ready to pop my head off. "What did you do?" he said, raising a fist. I'll admit I cowered just a bit. "I just… healed him, okay? I did what the Father asked of me! Don't beat the shit out of me."
That got a rise out of everyone. Divine intervention was the only thing that made sense, and Gods were a little more hands-on in this universe. They didn't know whether to be worshipping or afraid. "Look. I was just a vessel for Him, okay? I… just let him in to do the job. I'm not special, just lucky."
"Reinhardt, leave him be." A young voice called. The boy said from his spot on the bed. "Your Grac-" Reinhardt said in response before being shushed. "Is nobody going to thank the man for his help? I would be dead were it not for him." The boy sighed before rising himself, waving off the worried doctors. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
"Thank you, good sir," he said in a distinguished voice, at least compared to the local yokels and our casual dialect. "I am Prince Florence the Third, heir to King Rothilde himself. You have my thanks, for I would be dead were it not for you. Your name, friend?"
Oh. Oh fuck.
"I-I go by Zachary, s-sir!" I stammered, caught off guard. A fucking heir to the throne and I just casually up and heal him. "Zachary Rickard, Your Grace."
Florence hums to himself, nodding a few times. He seemed pretty mature for a kid of around twelve. "An interesting name, but nonetheless I owe you a debt good sir." I gulped. Attention like this wasn't what I wanted. I was just a regular person. "Your Grace, it wasn't me, but the Father himself who sought to aid you. I was merely a vessel for His power."
"That settles it, then. I'll owe a debt to both of you!" he smiled, damning me all the while.
You'd be surprised how much traffic a hospital can receive, even during times of peace.
Though I suppose it'd be obvious in such a large capital as Tristel. Accidents, unfortunate shankings, minor illnesses (and thank the Father Tristel is so supportive of clean water. I don't want cholera ever.) Free healthcare is the greatest invention save for toasted bread.
Time passes quickly and I've been deemed magical enough by Jophiel to assist him when he goes to work. I'll never take a doctor for granted again now that I know what that hell is like. My first day and I saw a guy whose legs were crushed by an errant cart. Minced meat and splintered bone. I didn't even know legs could bend that far.
After so much damage, they still managed to save the guy from what would've certainly killed him in a normal world. It's amazing to watch flesh knit itself back together (though them manually setting the bones was disgusting.) My own role was to provide energy to the actual surgeons. Boring, but still slightly important. That and act as nurse, lugging around supplies and equipment.
Surprisingly enough, I was bone tired through all of it.
Even with plenty of endurance from my days of working, I was still damned tired. Magical endurance does not give any fucks whether or not you are a hulking monster or a stick thin wizard. Just how many times you get a nosebleed from overexerting yourself magically. It's like a muscle in that way, I suppose.
"How…" I pondered, fatigue clinging in my words as we sat for a break. Precious water. "Can you do this every day? That guy… sucked up… all my damned energy… I mean I ain't mad, but still…" Jophiel grinned slightly, taking schadenfreude in my suffering, the bastard. "I've been here for years," he said calmly. "You just get used to it."
As I was going to respond (likely by punching him in the arm or something), a commotion brought both our attention. The doors of the clinic burst open, snapping on their hinges as a towering man in gilded armor hurried, clutching a bundle in his arms. Not just a bundle, a kid swaddled in silks. "Help!" he yelled. "Assassin!" before he rushed towards an empty bed, laying down the boy.
Without a mountain of armor covering him, I could see a glimpse of the boy. Along his arm was a large wound, bleeding dark red. The flesh around the wound was black corruption that spread by the second, consuming more and more. That was all I saw before a horde of people crowded around, flashing golden light spreading as they attempted to save him.
More yelling. The knight seemed extremely agitated as they continued to fail, their skill and magic useless in the face of whatever poison had its grasp on the boy. Seriously, the big guy looked ready to kill someone.
Save him.
What? I gripped my head as the voice spread through my mind along with a wave of the Father's warmth. Wait, no I can't possibl-
Do it.
Oww, fuck, okay. I cringed at the force of the mental voice before shakily rising to my feet. Jophiel looked to me, concerned. I shook my head before waddling towards the emergency, pulses of warmth (edging on heat) making my steps unsteady. "Move," I said to one of the surgeons. He ignored me before I spoke again, louder and different. "Move!" I commanded. They moved and I stepped forward, just dodging the Knight's attempt to grab me.
Light spread as I made contact with the wound, almost blinding, something else taking over my body. The warmth now was burning, burning my veins and eyes an- it rushed out from my palm, colliding with the darkness that corrupted the boy. While no one could hear it, I could feel the darkness burning, screaming in pain as the holy light purged.
And then it was over.
I fell backwards, all strength leaving my body. But hey, the wound was fixed, all traces of corruption gone. Oww, this really fucking hurt though. Someone caught me, gently easing me away and into a seat as I panted, eyes closed. "Are you alright?" a familiar voice asked and I nodded, too tired to speak.
When I opened my eyes, everyone was staring at me, especially the knight whose eyes were hard and wary, sizing me up as a threat. Gods, this was awkward. A bunch of doctors I barely knew and a knight who would kill me given sufficient encouragement. Only Jophiel looked at me with anything approaching to warmth. Some of them looked a little spooked.
"So… How's that for a party trick?" I joked, popping an awkward smile. Nobody laughed. The knight moved forwards, ready to pop my head off. "What did you do?" he said, raising a fist. I'll admit I cowered just a bit. "I just… healed him, okay? I did what the Father asked of me! Don't beat the shit out of me."
That got a rise out of everyone. Divine intervention was the only thing that made sense, and Gods were a little more hands-on in this universe. They didn't know whether to be worshipping or afraid. "Look. I was just a vessel for Him, okay? I… just let him in to do the job. I'm not special, just lucky."
"Reinhardt, leave him be." A young voice called. The boy said from his spot on the bed. "Your Grac-" Reinhardt said in response before being shushed. "Is nobody going to thank the man for his help? I would be dead were it not for him." The boy sighed before rising himself, waving off the worried doctors. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
"Thank you, good sir," he said in a distinguished voice, at least compared to the local yokels and our casual dialect. "I am Prince Florence the Third, heir to King Rothilde himself. You have my thanks, for I would be dead were it not for you. Your name, friend?"
Oh. Oh fuck.
"I-I go by Zachary, s-sir!" I stammered, caught off guard. A fucking heir to the throne and I just casually up and heal him. "Zachary Rickard, Your Grace."
Florence hums to himself, nodding a few times. He seemed pretty mature for a kid of around twelve. "An interesting name, but nonetheless I owe you a debt good sir." I gulped. Attention like this wasn't what I wanted. I was just a regular person. "Your Grace, it wasn't me, but the Father himself who sought to aid you. I was merely a vessel for His power."
"That settles it, then. I'll owe a debt to both of you!" he smiled, damning me all the while.
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1.08
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
1.08
Naturally it was decided I would go to the castle. Thankfully, my request to bring Jophiel along was accepted.
Riding in a carriage is different than what I expected. It's a bumpy mess inside a stuffy cramped interior. Also kind of awkward, especially with genuine royalty sitting across from the two of us. Especially when you're used to walking everywhere like I have. (Aside from brief rides on carts toward work sites. Those are just plain uncomfortable.) At least the seats are nice.
Interesting, at least. Riding through different zones as we ascended through tiers. Normally I was used to the sprawling middle-lower area where Jophiel and I lived. While not exactly poor, none of the houses were lavishing either. But here, above the others? There was certainly a difference. Higher quality everything.
The castle was beautiful. Above and beyond anything my hands would ever build, it was certainly magical. Probably involved a helluva lotta magic in the construction process as well, owing to the literal floating towers that gently orbited around it. From this close it seemed to glow, the marble and quarried stone shining. Said castle was shaped in a pentagon of sorts, with five gates to along with it.
As beautiful as it looked, it certainly didn't eschew security for prettiness. Murder Holes and emplacements littered the walls. Well equipped guards traversed their rounds, ever vigilant. The five floating towers looked to be brimming with magical weaponry, hidden behind stone and covers. That's not discounting the city walls themselves, along with ascending multiple tiers all the while being harassed by soldiers. I pity the army who might ever attempt so.
Bells rang and guards scurried as we approached the northern gate, the King's Gate. Notably, news of the Prince being almost killed by an assassin sent everyone into a frenzy of activity. Especially since assassin was still out there, alive and likely recouping his losses and preparing for another go.
I was also reminded that I might become a target, for saving the Prince.
Totally not spooky at all. Learning that people actually want you dead when you've gone through life peacefully and amicably. Suppose I should be grateful for the Crown for granting shelter. Better to be surrounded by a bunch of guys with swords than to die in my sleep back at home where we only have a simple lock to convince any would-be assassins.
It's a little bit weird how calm and upbeat Prince Florence is seeing as he almost died not even twenty minutes ago. Asking just that leads to him chuckling. "No, I understand your concern but I feel better than ever. Any aches and pains I ever had are gone, replaced with a vigor I've never had before."
"Huh. Weird." Awkward. Hey, we finally reached the throne room… woah. While the hallways have been standard rich fare (though everything just screamed high quality,) the throne room takes the cake. Giant pillars, bunch of noblemen roaming about, marble tiling, even a big chair that could rival the Iron Throne. As we entered, silence dawned on the entire room.
Sat on the throne was an old, old man. Easily at least a hundred years old, and his withered body certainly displayed it. He weakly raised a hand, gesturing to us. The only strong part of him were his eyes, a cold and powerful pair that drilled into my own. A few seconds later he warmed, smiling. "Son. I am glad you still live."
"Father," Florence said before rushing to his dad, embracing the man. Even at the age of twelve, the Prince easily dwarfed the King's own weak stature. Though there was a certain resemblance between the two. Their blue eyes, at least. Heartfelt whispers were exchanged between the two as Jophiel and I stood there, trying to ignore the stares by guards and nobles both.
"So, you are the one who saved my only son." The King spoke, voice weak and yet strong all the same. "I owe a debt to both the Gods and yourself. The Gods are easy to appease, but you? What do you desire? It does not seem as if you desire vast wealth, nor a noble title. No, you require something else."
Huh. Surprisingly accurate from just a few glances. The guy was smarter than he looked. "You're right, ah, Your Grace. I'm, well. Not exactly from here. Not in terms of country or continent, but from, well, it might sound odd, but another world. My world is far different from this one, and I've no recollection of how I got here or how to get home."
King Rothilde stared at me for moments more, contemplating all the while. "I believe you. I did not survive my position through strength alone. Knowing if someone is lying is merely another talent that must be learned. As for you… a curious case. Plucked from one world for what purpose? Fate works in fickle ways, she does." He nodded, exchanging a glance with the other older man in the room, an advisor I guessed.
"Your predicament is interesting, and not one that can be solved easily. There are no ancient tablets dictating your arrival, nor premonitions. You're something else. I can provide some things at least. Places of import, such as the Grave of the Seer, or the City of Wizards. You still haven't answered my boy, what do you want?"
What did I want?
What did I want, anyway? I've spent the past few weeks just, y'know, surviving. Adapting to a situation I've never been in. Trying to make sense of things and return to a sense of normalcy. Working my ass off to lose weight and earn money. What did I want…
You want what is right.
"I want to help people."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's Arc One pooped out. To be honest, the majority of One is introduction to the world and its setting, explaining things and the MC getting used to all the shit. It only really starts picking up in Two, where things start happening. If you came here expecting a grand ol' time filled with explosions and adventure then you came to the wrong place.
Naturally it was decided I would go to the castle. Thankfully, my request to bring Jophiel along was accepted.
Riding in a carriage is different than what I expected. It's a bumpy mess inside a stuffy cramped interior. Also kind of awkward, especially with genuine royalty sitting across from the two of us. Especially when you're used to walking everywhere like I have. (Aside from brief rides on carts toward work sites. Those are just plain uncomfortable.) At least the seats are nice.
Interesting, at least. Riding through different zones as we ascended through tiers. Normally I was used to the sprawling middle-lower area where Jophiel and I lived. While not exactly poor, none of the houses were lavishing either. But here, above the others? There was certainly a difference. Higher quality everything.
The castle was beautiful. Above and beyond anything my hands would ever build, it was certainly magical. Probably involved a helluva lotta magic in the construction process as well, owing to the literal floating towers that gently orbited around it. From this close it seemed to glow, the marble and quarried stone shining. Said castle was shaped in a pentagon of sorts, with five gates to along with it.
As beautiful as it looked, it certainly didn't eschew security for prettiness. Murder Holes and emplacements littered the walls. Well equipped guards traversed their rounds, ever vigilant. The five floating towers looked to be brimming with magical weaponry, hidden behind stone and covers. That's not discounting the city walls themselves, along with ascending multiple tiers all the while being harassed by soldiers. I pity the army who might ever attempt so.
Bells rang and guards scurried as we approached the northern gate, the King's Gate. Notably, news of the Prince being almost killed by an assassin sent everyone into a frenzy of activity. Especially since assassin was still out there, alive and likely recouping his losses and preparing for another go.
I was also reminded that I might become a target, for saving the Prince.
Totally not spooky at all. Learning that people actually want you dead when you've gone through life peacefully and amicably. Suppose I should be grateful for the Crown for granting shelter. Better to be surrounded by a bunch of guys with swords than to die in my sleep back at home where we only have a simple lock to convince any would-be assassins.
It's a little bit weird how calm and upbeat Prince Florence is seeing as he almost died not even twenty minutes ago. Asking just that leads to him chuckling. "No, I understand your concern but I feel better than ever. Any aches and pains I ever had are gone, replaced with a vigor I've never had before."
"Huh. Weird." Awkward. Hey, we finally reached the throne room… woah. While the hallways have been standard rich fare (though everything just screamed high quality,) the throne room takes the cake. Giant pillars, bunch of noblemen roaming about, marble tiling, even a big chair that could rival the Iron Throne. As we entered, silence dawned on the entire room.
Sat on the throne was an old, old man. Easily at least a hundred years old, and his withered body certainly displayed it. He weakly raised a hand, gesturing to us. The only strong part of him were his eyes, a cold and powerful pair that drilled into my own. A few seconds later he warmed, smiling. "Son. I am glad you still live."
"Father," Florence said before rushing to his dad, embracing the man. Even at the age of twelve, the Prince easily dwarfed the King's own weak stature. Though there was a certain resemblance between the two. Their blue eyes, at least. Heartfelt whispers were exchanged between the two as Jophiel and I stood there, trying to ignore the stares by guards and nobles both.
"So, you are the one who saved my only son." The King spoke, voice weak and yet strong all the same. "I owe a debt to both the Gods and yourself. The Gods are easy to appease, but you? What do you desire? It does not seem as if you desire vast wealth, nor a noble title. No, you require something else."
Huh. Surprisingly accurate from just a few glances. The guy was smarter than he looked. "You're right, ah, Your Grace. I'm, well. Not exactly from here. Not in terms of country or continent, but from, well, it might sound odd, but another world. My world is far different from this one, and I've no recollection of how I got here or how to get home."
King Rothilde stared at me for moments more, contemplating all the while. "I believe you. I did not survive my position through strength alone. Knowing if someone is lying is merely another talent that must be learned. As for you… a curious case. Plucked from one world for what purpose? Fate works in fickle ways, she does." He nodded, exchanging a glance with the other older man in the room, an advisor I guessed.
"Your predicament is interesting, and not one that can be solved easily. There are no ancient tablets dictating your arrival, nor premonitions. You're something else. I can provide some things at least. Places of import, such as the Grave of the Seer, or the City of Wizards. You still haven't answered my boy, what do you want?"
What did I want?
What did I want, anyway? I've spent the past few weeks just, y'know, surviving. Adapting to a situation I've never been in. Trying to make sense of things and return to a sense of normalcy. Working my ass off to lose weight and earn money. What did I want…
You want what is right.
"I want to help people."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's Arc One pooped out. To be honest, the majority of One is introduction to the world and its setting, explaining things and the MC getting used to all the shit. It only really starts picking up in Two, where things start happening. If you came here expecting a grand ol' time filled with explosions and adventure then you came to the wrong place.
Interlude One
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
Thank you laddies for the support, it's nice to see my work isn't absolute garbage and that people actually might enjoy it. Certainly gives a bit of spry to my step. As for the threadmarks, eeeeehhh I was gonna get arouuuund to iiit gooooosh. Anyway I'll be posting the rest of the chapters and then working more on 2.04 (the latest one.) Prepare for things actually happening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Interlude One
Musings of Archmagi Ezekiel Aruheim. 1257. Seventh of November.
The boy, one Zachary, is a special case. Certainly one I've ne'er seen before, seeing as he's infused to the brim with Divine energy. Hell, I'd certainly call him the son of an Angel, were he not as mortal as the rest. Under a keen mage's eye, it's almost as if his natural ley lines have been replaced with a sort've golden divine energy. I'd call it infectious, but he is under no pain nor discord.
My findings have been reinforced by the patient's own testimony, of hearing a 'voice', likely the Father's own influence on him. It's a first, when even the holiest bishop can barely hear whispers. Other findings are of his ideas, which are a goldmine of sorts. He's certainly from somewhere else. These nights I dream of towering metal buildings and thundering vehicles. Almost like it's out of a storybook, everything he's spoken of.
Other than that, the boy, man, is a perfectly normal human being. Aside from being slightly overweight, of course. No strange readings nor hidden mystical powers. Merely a very heightened connection with one of the Gods. I wonder what brought him here, from his words he had no connection to the divine before he allowed the Father to embrace him. Strange, that. Even I know the feel of them. Good and bad. (I blame a few accidents from my youth.)
Either way, there a few things that could prove fruitful, as my experiments have found. One is called 'gunpowder', a combination of sulphur, saltpeter, and charcoal. What is usually something reserved for trivialities like fireworks or 'magic' in simple conman shows might be more, with research and time. Its explosive properties may be a boon to civilian mining operations and if these 'guns' are real, could arm soldiers easier.
This 'gun' idea seems prolific, one I'm amazed no one has thought of before. Accelerating a small object to high velocities could easily puncture mail or splint, possibly even plate. Ranged weaponry has certainly turned the tide of many a battle. And with advanced iron and steel production, could prove possible. Maybe magnetism or magical thrust...
Other things are of note as well, such as the printing press and other mechanical machines. While magical versions of these devices exist, they are difficult to maintain and costly. Not that magical methods could not be implemented into his ideas. Enchanting (while not one of my talents) could easily improve or ease their use.
Experimentation notes can be found attached to this file, and I will certainly be updating this later when my findings are more conclusive.
Thus concludes the journal of Ezekiel Aruheim.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Interlude One
Musings of Archmagi Ezekiel Aruheim. 1257. Seventh of November.
The boy, one Zachary, is a special case. Certainly one I've ne'er seen before, seeing as he's infused to the brim with Divine energy. Hell, I'd certainly call him the son of an Angel, were he not as mortal as the rest. Under a keen mage's eye, it's almost as if his natural ley lines have been replaced with a sort've golden divine energy. I'd call it infectious, but he is under no pain nor discord.
My findings have been reinforced by the patient's own testimony, of hearing a 'voice', likely the Father's own influence on him. It's a first, when even the holiest bishop can barely hear whispers. Other findings are of his ideas, which are a goldmine of sorts. He's certainly from somewhere else. These nights I dream of towering metal buildings and thundering vehicles. Almost like it's out of a storybook, everything he's spoken of.
Other than that, the boy, man, is a perfectly normal human being. Aside from being slightly overweight, of course. No strange readings nor hidden mystical powers. Merely a very heightened connection with one of the Gods. I wonder what brought him here, from his words he had no connection to the divine before he allowed the Father to embrace him. Strange, that. Even I know the feel of them. Good and bad. (I blame a few accidents from my youth.)
Either way, there a few things that could prove fruitful, as my experiments have found. One is called 'gunpowder', a combination of sulphur, saltpeter, and charcoal. What is usually something reserved for trivialities like fireworks or 'magic' in simple conman shows might be more, with research and time. Its explosive properties may be a boon to civilian mining operations and if these 'guns' are real, could arm soldiers easier.
This 'gun' idea seems prolific, one I'm amazed no one has thought of before. Accelerating a small object to high velocities could easily puncture mail or splint, possibly even plate. Ranged weaponry has certainly turned the tide of many a battle. And with advanced iron and steel production, could prove possible. Maybe magnetism or magical thrust...
Other things are of note as well, such as the printing press and other mechanical machines. While magical versions of these devices exist, they are difficult to maintain and costly. Not that magical methods could not be implemented into his ideas. Enchanting (while not one of my talents) could easily improve or ease their use.
Experimentation notes can be found attached to this file, and I will certainly be updating this later when my findings are more conclusive.
Thus concludes the journal of Ezekiel Aruheim.
2.01
Donk
What a load of Donk.
- Location
- Ohio, U.S.A.
Arc Two - Mote
2.01
I was wrong when I said magic was a common thing. Half-wrong. While in the capital, it is certainly plentiful enough for most people to see uses of it every day, it is a much rarer thing the farther away from civilization you are. It makes sense, at least. Mages, unlike the hermits in fiction, seek other mages. Thus, they form colleges and places of study where they have demand. Cities.
Most villages are lucky to even have one person with magical talent.
The Mage College in Tristel is a cool place, employing at least a hundred mages and apprentices. It's part of what lets the capital be successful, producing magical equipment and tools. That, and sending their journeymen out to the fields to enhance growth and make it so no season is unproductive.
No harvest should wither and die. Civilization runs on its stomach.
I've also been hearing the Father more and while slightly annoying, it's not that bad. Most of what he says in cryptic riddles and 'wise' sayings. On the plus side, I'm pretty much warm all the time, even in this snow. (Which is goddamn beautiful by the way. The city under snow is almost magical. Err. It's already magical but you get the point.)
This is all part of my plan to help people. No official charity services exist (save for some churches) unlike modern times. So if a village falls on bad times, it gets no help. This is where I show up, like Santa Claus with gifts of food and supplies and a little magical assistance. And in doing so, spread both good and the faith. (The Father is a legitimate nice guy. Who wouldn't worship the guy?)
No name for the 'crusade' yet. Good names like the Red Cross are all taken up.
Was thinking of using the symbol though. A bright red cross on white background is eye-popping and it's very clear. Or maybe the Caduceus staff… oh, I could totally use a staff. That would be awesome as hell. Not that anyone would get the reference. It's certainly something to note.
I own a cart now. It's a nice little vehicle, built from solid wood and covered with a good tarp. Called a 'chuck wagon' with a cabinet on the back that folds out to become a stand. Stored in the chuck are various medical supplies and also spices and kitchenware. With it is a small barrel for water, shovel, axe, several pots and pans, and many other little bits and pieces. I especially like how everything has its place, like a good tool wall. My only complaint is the single hole in the roof, but I patched it up rather easily.
The cart's drawn by who I will thus refer to as Snuffles the horse. A pretty (if a little smelly) draft horse with a chestnut mane and spotted pelt. He snuffles a lot, thus Snuffles. Not sure if it's divine intervention, but he really seems to like me and not mind at all my inexpertise.
It's with a sigh that I turn back to my one true friend and comrade. Our last few weeks have been sort've, well, distant. With much of my time spent at the castle, either experimenting with the Head Mage (A man by the name of Ezekiel. Nice guy, but has sort've a… mad scientist vibe. Would probably dissect me if he had consent.) or just getting to know the royalty. Prince Florence is a good kid.
While I've already said goodbye to my boss and coworkers, I haven't with my friend.
"So." I say softly, leaning against the cart, honestly a bit tired from loading up supplies and equipment. "So," Jophiel says back, a hint of amusal in his voice. "So," I said, upping the ante. Jophiel shook his head with a smile, understanding. "I get why you're doing this. I know how much you enjoyed every sunday, helping people out. This is just a bigger step."
Nodding, I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of Snuffles snuffily eating hay. "Sure, it's a little sad, but I don't think worse of you. In fact, I think better. It's a good thing. And hey, you're definitely coming back, just, in a month or two. It's not like you're leaving forever."
I nodded again.
"It's just a shame I can't come with you. The church and everything…" he teeters off, sighing and leaning against a wall of his own. Even conversations like this, we don't need many words. Just a common understanding. "At least you're not alone, remember?" he asks with another smile.
I will always be here, my son.
Intaking a breath of air, I nod for the final time before striding towards Joph and embracing him in a deep hug. He's as close to a brother as I've ever had, so he certainly deserves me half crushing him. After a bit, we separate and I clamber onto my seat on the cart, fidgeting for a few moments until I'm comfortable. "Well, I'm off," I say before tugging on the reins and urging Snuffles to go.
As the cart begins to amble along, I send a few waves back to Jophiel before we turn a corner, officially gone.
Above my head, the sky opens up, a good omen for the road ahead.
2.01
I was wrong when I said magic was a common thing. Half-wrong. While in the capital, it is certainly plentiful enough for most people to see uses of it every day, it is a much rarer thing the farther away from civilization you are. It makes sense, at least. Mages, unlike the hermits in fiction, seek other mages. Thus, they form colleges and places of study where they have demand. Cities.
Most villages are lucky to even have one person with magical talent.
The Mage College in Tristel is a cool place, employing at least a hundred mages and apprentices. It's part of what lets the capital be successful, producing magical equipment and tools. That, and sending their journeymen out to the fields to enhance growth and make it so no season is unproductive.
No harvest should wither and die. Civilization runs on its stomach.
I've also been hearing the Father more and while slightly annoying, it's not that bad. Most of what he says in cryptic riddles and 'wise' sayings. On the plus side, I'm pretty much warm all the time, even in this snow. (Which is goddamn beautiful by the way. The city under snow is almost magical. Err. It's already magical but you get the point.)
This is all part of my plan to help people. No official charity services exist (save for some churches) unlike modern times. So if a village falls on bad times, it gets no help. This is where I show up, like Santa Claus with gifts of food and supplies and a little magical assistance. And in doing so, spread both good and the faith. (The Father is a legitimate nice guy. Who wouldn't worship the guy?)
No name for the 'crusade' yet. Good names like the Red Cross are all taken up.
Was thinking of using the symbol though. A bright red cross on white background is eye-popping and it's very clear. Or maybe the Caduceus staff… oh, I could totally use a staff. That would be awesome as hell. Not that anyone would get the reference. It's certainly something to note.
I own a cart now. It's a nice little vehicle, built from solid wood and covered with a good tarp. Called a 'chuck wagon' with a cabinet on the back that folds out to become a stand. Stored in the chuck are various medical supplies and also spices and kitchenware. With it is a small barrel for water, shovel, axe, several pots and pans, and many other little bits and pieces. I especially like how everything has its place, like a good tool wall. My only complaint is the single hole in the roof, but I patched it up rather easily.
The cart's drawn by who I will thus refer to as Snuffles the horse. A pretty (if a little smelly) draft horse with a chestnut mane and spotted pelt. He snuffles a lot, thus Snuffles. Not sure if it's divine intervention, but he really seems to like me and not mind at all my inexpertise.
It's with a sigh that I turn back to my one true friend and comrade. Our last few weeks have been sort've, well, distant. With much of my time spent at the castle, either experimenting with the Head Mage (A man by the name of Ezekiel. Nice guy, but has sort've a… mad scientist vibe. Would probably dissect me if he had consent.) or just getting to know the royalty. Prince Florence is a good kid.
While I've already said goodbye to my boss and coworkers, I haven't with my friend.
"So." I say softly, leaning against the cart, honestly a bit tired from loading up supplies and equipment. "So," Jophiel says back, a hint of amusal in his voice. "So," I said, upping the ante. Jophiel shook his head with a smile, understanding. "I get why you're doing this. I know how much you enjoyed every sunday, helping people out. This is just a bigger step."
Nodding, I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of Snuffles snuffily eating hay. "Sure, it's a little sad, but I don't think worse of you. In fact, I think better. It's a good thing. And hey, you're definitely coming back, just, in a month or two. It's not like you're leaving forever."
I nodded again.
"It's just a shame I can't come with you. The church and everything…" he teeters off, sighing and leaning against a wall of his own. Even conversations like this, we don't need many words. Just a common understanding. "At least you're not alone, remember?" he asks with another smile.
I will always be here, my son.
Intaking a breath of air, I nod for the final time before striding towards Joph and embracing him in a deep hug. He's as close to a brother as I've ever had, so he certainly deserves me half crushing him. After a bit, we separate and I clamber onto my seat on the cart, fidgeting for a few moments until I'm comfortable. "Well, I'm off," I say before tugging on the reins and urging Snuffles to go.
As the cart begins to amble along, I send a few waves back to Jophiel before we turn a corner, officially gone.
Above my head, the sky opens up, a good omen for the road ahead.
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