Lev Tahor
- Thread starter Rickshaw
- Start date
- Original Fantasy Mature
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[X] Wander Aimlessly
-[X] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
-[X] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
- Location
- St. Petersburg
They are remarkably chill to allow a known murderer wander around the halls. Have Lo-Ru told no one what she saw? Weren't we following Miriam when we got off-track; was she not suspicious when we failed to catch up?
Now I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.
[x] Wander Aimlessly
-[x] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
"Wander aimlessly" sounds about right when you consider what we just learned. But eventually we may need some direction.
[x] Go to the Front Desk
-[x] Ask Naomi where the texts you need might be.
Now I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.
[x] Wander Aimlessly
-[x] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
"Wander aimlessly" sounds about right when you consider what we just learned. But eventually we may need some direction.
[x] Go to the Front Desk
-[x] Ask Naomi where the texts you need might be.
[x] Wander Aimlessly
-[x] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
[x] Go to the Front Desk
-[x] Ask Naomi where the texts you need might be.
-[x] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
[x] Go to the Front Desk
-[x] Ask Naomi where the texts you need might be.
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
Update will be delayed a day or so more. No unforeseen issues or procrastination this time, just me having a fun idea I want to use inspired by SayakaQuest and its revival. It's more work, but I think it'll be worth it. Hopefully. Assuming my pen is as good as my imagination.
- Location
- Plato's Cave
SayakaQuest has a revival? Since when?
Act I - 30. Seals, Souls, and Secrets
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
The brick goes up…
[x] Wander Aimlessly
-[x] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
[x] Go to the Front Desk
-[x] Ask Naomi where the texts you need might be.
Day 3
Afternoon
Your fingers vibrate as they bounce off the spines of a hundred or so books. You move from bookshelf to bookshelf, absently reaching out as if you were browsing the collection of tomes. Every step has you brush against a handful more, yet you don't pay them any more attention than the myriad before. How could you, with all that runs through your mind?
You are Tainted, and that title no longer seems so arbitrary in your mind. You're infected with something evil. Your Soul is not your own. You turned into a Demon, you… you killed people.
You're not sure what worries you more, that you've taken a life, or that you can't remember.
A shiver rolls down your spine. Has it always been this cold here? The opening of your jacket tightens around you with a quick pull. Even so, your Seal feels like it's on fire, burning oil coursing through your arm and into your heart. Siphoning any feeling of warmth from the rest of your body.
...Since when did your arm burn like your Seal?
You pull up your left sleeve, but there's nothing on your forearm. Up, further, and you still can't see it. But you feel it, the odd burning sensation, and so you remove your jacket and roll your shirt up. Finally, you see it, the fringes of spectral patterns that ghost your shoulder. A little more, and you have full view of the new brand upon your body.
It's markedly different from the scarlet letter over your heart. It looks almost runic, like a paleological script carved into your skin. It has the texture of chalk, with the slightest hint of bluish undertone. Like some sort of ritual circle for a great, esoteric Magical ceremony.
It feels… odd. It does not burn like your Seal, but it… well, it does, but it doesn't. It's not the constant scorching of a brand, but the steady char of wood tinged with the faintest chill of a winter's night. Fire edged with ice.
It hurts, but it's a good hurt. A comforting one, somehow. There's a presence to it that you find difficult to describe, but when you focus on it you can feel the edge dull on your emotions. The troubling thoughts are still troubling, but they no longer occupy as much of your mind as they did.
A quiet sigh escapes your lips. Everything is happening too fast. Too many details at once, too much world-changing information in too short a time frame. Taints, Seals, the Labyrinth, the Demon King, all of it connected to Spiritual Magic or the Synagogue, which themselves were heavily entwined. It's all too much to handle at once.
If I'm to have any chance at all of getting to the bottom of this, I need to focus.
You suck in a deep, long breath, and slowly let it out.
There, that feels better. Now, time for some further investigation.
Roaming the Library has taught you something very important. The first is that, unlike the layout of the rest of the Synagogue, everything is incredibly well organized. The third floor, where you entered, contains a lot of general information. Some base-level texts covering just about every topic someone could care about, and a few you're sure nobody does. What is the point of enchanting playing cards with spells, anyway? Surely, it'd be faster and more efficient to just cast it when necessary.
The second floor is mostly history and culture study. Not necessarily what you're looking for, but you do find a single book that looks helpful, "The First Magic" and other Zakran Fables. It's a collection of myths and legends of the area, and a cursory skim reveals most of them involve some use of Spiritual Magic. You don't know if it'll be as much help as your Divine Tome, but it doesn't hurt to look it over.
The lowest floor… you think it's practical study of Zak's special brand of sorcery. You're halfway down the steps leading to it to confirm, but a glimpse of black hair and a white headdress urges you to be elsewhere.
The fourth floor is religious texts. Overview of ceremonies, discussions of changes throughout the years, songbooks, even lifestyle guidance. You don't know why that surprises you. The Synagogue is as much a place of worship as a center for learning, but somehow it didn't hit you before you took a look at Becoming the Real You: How Meditation and Magic Lead to True Happiness.
Turns out, Spiritual Magic has the power to alter emotions, just like Harmonic. This information doesn't help you reach your goal in any way, but a few brain cells have dedicated themselves to memorizing it anyways. You hope they won't be needed for some actually relevant information at a later date.
The highest floor is the barest of them all. Unlike the shelves which completely cover the walls of the lower stories, there are dozens of tapestries, sculptures, and paintings that take up the space between the exact dozen doors which fill the perimeter. Two along each short end, four on the long ones. Every door is covered in runes, and surrounding the image of an angel, each passage alternating between a shy seraph and the multi-headed cherub.
Only a few shelves fill the floor space, spread out to make room for tables and chairs where the occasional monk or nun was taking notes from the various tomes piled around them.
It seems you're not the only one with a penchant for research.
You move towards the closest bookcase, brushing the various titles with an inquisitive finger. Some are small booklets no wider than your little finger, and some are tomes so thick you're uncertain how they made it to the top story without giving the poor soul who brought it some serious back pain.
Every last one is academic text exploring the nature of various aspects of Spiritual Magic.
Jackpot.
Of course, that makes a great number of them so technical that you're lost after the first mention of the phrase "infinite-dimensional orthogonality" or simply takes the fundamentals for granted, leaving the uninitiated like you scrambling to figure out what words like 'Kishuf' and 'Soul Bond' mean in context. You're a scholar, sure, but you're not a wizard. Or, you are, but not the old and wise kind that somehow knows everything after just one glance.
Lucky you, there's a small pamphlet titled "Spirit Magic for Dummies" that you immediately grab upon discovery. Even this far from home, the Dummies prints remain a staple for the ignorant.
…now that you're thinking about it, you wonder what kind of magic analogue Zak and Zoroaster have for the printing press. With how prevalent massed produced works on sorcery are in the two countries, you doubt they do it by hand or developed a mundane system. Maybe an automated system of levitating blocks which typed out the text with little more than a thought, or some sort of arcane inscription spell that filled the entire book in an instant? A hundred methods fly through your head, but you're not sure of any of them. In the end, they're still printing books just like in Hafenport, albeit with Magic instead of Mechanics.
It's strange how much and how little Magic really changes about society.
You shake your head. You didn't pick up that pamphlet just to wonder how it was printed, so now you've got to read the darn thing. You find a seat at a nearby empty table and peel it open a few pages, diving in just after the introductory section.
You fold the pamphlet closed. You almost can't believe it. This, this is what you're looking for. A connection, the barest hints as to "why" everything is so entwined. You can feel it. It's not a definite answer, but it's a start.
Manipulation of the Soul. A form of Magic truly unique in this world. Not reliant on the mood and availability of entities from Beyond, but a form of Magic fully under the control of the caster. At least, as much control as the Synagogue regulates knowledge of.
For all it promises, something greatly concerns you. You're not certain what, but you feel like the little pamphlet is lacking something important. Beyond the somewhat understandable limitation of the Synagogue on its study - if a Taint can kill people using only its bare hands, how much more damage could it do armed with modified spells? - it feels like there's some caveat that's been ignored, but you can't imagine what it is.
You feel like you're just waiting for the other shoe to drop any second now.
It takes you only a few minutes to check out the books and pamphlet you've found with the librarian, Naomi. She happily notes them all down, and even makes a few suggestions of further study material at your request. You're now ladened with copies of A Brief History of Zak, Composition of Will, and Rituals of Binding, in addition to the storybook and pamphlet you collected earlier.
Seems you have plenty of material to sift through, now.
"Please, visit again!" she calls, a little too sweetly.
You turn, carrying the heavy stack and nearly running someone one over. "Sorry!" you respond immediately.
"I-It's f-fine," a familiar stutter replies.
Oh, no, you pale slightly, only just noticing the raven hair peeking out from underneath the headdress. Lo-Ruhammah once again stands before you, though this time you're the one with a stack of books.
There's a moment of awkward silence where neither of you says anything. You'd say something, but your mind is too busy chittering sweet worries into your stream of consciousness, such as "oh god why is she here," "I feel so awkward for trying to chew her out after everything," "I really hope she hasn't told anyone about what happened yet," and this gem "please forgive me for killing all your friends and leaving you a sad lonely girl with nobody to rely on because I'd feel even more terrible than I already do if you somehow morphed this into a horrible vendetta and tried to kill me later."
Luckily, in the three seconds during which you were experiencing a completely new kind of panic around a woman, Naomi leaned over from behind you to spot the beleaguered Maiden.
"Oh, Lo-Ruhammah! I assume you finished putting all the books away?"
The ravenette nods. She's holding something close to her chest, but you can't see it for the stack you're carrying.
"Then please tell me, what exactly is it that you're holding there?"
She looks down, cheeks glowing a light red. A shade you're very well acquainted with yourself: embarrassment in the face of being chewed out.
"H-here," she says, holding a book out for you. The Secret of the Soul is inscribed in elegant, golden cursive on the waxy cover. She places it on top of your pile, trembling. "I-I th-thought it m-might h-help. W-with what we t-talked ab-bout." You can tell she's incredibly uncomfortable with the topic.
What a coincidence! So are you. You hope it never gets brought up again.
"Well, isn't that unexpected. You must have had quite the effect on her if she's giving you anything besides some lip."
You and Lo-Ru turn in perfect synchronicity to give Naomi a "was that really necessary?" look.
Her smile does not falter in the slightest. "What?" her eyes seem to say. Her perpetual squint never once really moving.
"You could say that," you break the now incredibly awkward silence, glancing at the now glowering Maiden. Did she tell her? Does Naomi know?
"Speaking of things with quite the effect, and since you're done with your work for the afternoon, would you mind discussing yesterday's… Incident, Lo-Ru?"
You could hear the capitalization. You glance at the girl in question. She meets neither of your eyes as she gives a small, curt nod.
"Alright!" Naomi's creepy smile brightens, approaching a facsimile of not-terrifying but not quite succeeding. "If that's everything, I believe you're free to go Den."
You nod and start to head out. You hesitate just before the heavy wooden doors of the Great Library and sneak a glance back towards the Sister and Maiden.
Lo-Ru is watching you from the very corner of her eye. She catches your look, gives you the smallest of nods, and follows Naomi up one of the stairs.
You wait for them to leave your field of vision before sighing in relief. You push on the doors, creaking as they move back. With a little more haste than necessary, you make to exit the Synagogue.
For the moment, it seems, your secret is safe. Assuming you read her nod right.
…
You really need to get better at the whole women and communication things.
And that's it for the day. You still have a gig to get to!
[x] Interlude!
-[] An Empty Escort
-[] A Doomed Dreamer
-[] A Curious Child
-[] The Fickle Father
-[] A Wailing Woman
-[] A Gentle Guard
-:-:-;-:-:-
[x] Wander Aimlessly
-[x] Study what you find on Spiritual Magic
[x] Go to the Front Desk
-[x] Ask Naomi where the texts you need might be.
Day 3
Afternoon
Your fingers vibrate as they bounce off the spines of a hundred or so books. You move from bookshelf to bookshelf, absently reaching out as if you were browsing the collection of tomes. Every step has you brush against a handful more, yet you don't pay them any more attention than the myriad before. How could you, with all that runs through your mind?
You are Tainted, and that title no longer seems so arbitrary in your mind. You're infected with something evil. Your Soul is not your own. You turned into a Demon, you… you killed people.
You're not sure what worries you more, that you've taken a life, or that you can't remember.
A shiver rolls down your spine. Has it always been this cold here? The opening of your jacket tightens around you with a quick pull. Even so, your Seal feels like it's on fire, burning oil coursing through your arm and into your heart. Siphoning any feeling of warmth from the rest of your body.
...Since when did your arm burn like your Seal?
You pull up your left sleeve, but there's nothing on your forearm. Up, further, and you still can't see it. But you feel it, the odd burning sensation, and so you remove your jacket and roll your shirt up. Finally, you see it, the fringes of spectral patterns that ghost your shoulder. A little more, and you have full view of the new brand upon your body.
It's markedly different from the scarlet letter over your heart. It looks almost runic, like a paleological script carved into your skin. It has the texture of chalk, with the slightest hint of bluish undertone. Like some sort of ritual circle for a great, esoteric Magical ceremony.
It feels… odd. It does not burn like your Seal, but it… well, it does, but it doesn't. It's not the constant scorching of a brand, but the steady char of wood tinged with the faintest chill of a winter's night. Fire edged with ice.
It hurts, but it's a good hurt. A comforting one, somehow. There's a presence to it that you find difficult to describe, but when you focus on it you can feel the edge dull on your emotions. The troubling thoughts are still troubling, but they no longer occupy as much of your mind as they did.
A quiet sigh escapes your lips. Everything is happening too fast. Too many details at once, too much world-changing information in too short a time frame. Taints, Seals, the Labyrinth, the Demon King, all of it connected to Spiritual Magic or the Synagogue, which themselves were heavily entwined. It's all too much to handle at once.
If I'm to have any chance at all of getting to the bottom of this, I need to focus.
You suck in a deep, long breath, and slowly let it out.
There, that feels better. Now, time for some further investigation.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Roaming the Library has taught you something very important. The first is that, unlike the layout of the rest of the Synagogue, everything is incredibly well organized. The third floor, where you entered, contains a lot of general information. Some base-level texts covering just about every topic someone could care about, and a few you're sure nobody does. What is the point of enchanting playing cards with spells, anyway? Surely, it'd be faster and more efficient to just cast it when necessary.
The second floor is mostly history and culture study. Not necessarily what you're looking for, but you do find a single book that looks helpful, "The First Magic" and other Zakran Fables. It's a collection of myths and legends of the area, and a cursory skim reveals most of them involve some use of Spiritual Magic. You don't know if it'll be as much help as your Divine Tome, but it doesn't hurt to look it over.
The lowest floor… you think it's practical study of Zak's special brand of sorcery. You're halfway down the steps leading to it to confirm, but a glimpse of black hair and a white headdress urges you to be elsewhere.
The fourth floor is religious texts. Overview of ceremonies, discussions of changes throughout the years, songbooks, even lifestyle guidance. You don't know why that surprises you. The Synagogue is as much a place of worship as a center for learning, but somehow it didn't hit you before you took a look at Becoming the Real You: How Meditation and Magic Lead to True Happiness.
Turns out, Spiritual Magic has the power to alter emotions, just like Harmonic. This information doesn't help you reach your goal in any way, but a few brain cells have dedicated themselves to memorizing it anyways. You hope they won't be needed for some actually relevant information at a later date.
The highest floor is the barest of them all. Unlike the shelves which completely cover the walls of the lower stories, there are dozens of tapestries, sculptures, and paintings that take up the space between the exact dozen doors which fill the perimeter. Two along each short end, four on the long ones. Every door is covered in runes, and surrounding the image of an angel, each passage alternating between a shy seraph and the multi-headed cherub.
Only a few shelves fill the floor space, spread out to make room for tables and chairs where the occasional monk or nun was taking notes from the various tomes piled around them.
It seems you're not the only one with a penchant for research.
You move towards the closest bookcase, brushing the various titles with an inquisitive finger. Some are small booklets no wider than your little finger, and some are tomes so thick you're uncertain how they made it to the top story without giving the poor soul who brought it some serious back pain.
Every last one is academic text exploring the nature of various aspects of Spiritual Magic.
Jackpot.
Of course, that makes a great number of them so technical that you're lost after the first mention of the phrase "infinite-dimensional orthogonality" or simply takes the fundamentals for granted, leaving the uninitiated like you scrambling to figure out what words like 'Kishuf' and 'Soul Bond' mean in context. You're a scholar, sure, but you're not a wizard. Or, you are, but not the old and wise kind that somehow knows everything after just one glance.
Lucky you, there's a small pamphlet titled "Spirit Magic for Dummies" that you immediately grab upon discovery. Even this far from home, the Dummies prints remain a staple for the ignorant.
…now that you're thinking about it, you wonder what kind of magic analogue Zak and Zoroaster have for the printing press. With how prevalent massed produced works on sorcery are in the two countries, you doubt they do it by hand or developed a mundane system. Maybe an automated system of levitating blocks which typed out the text with little more than a thought, or some sort of arcane inscription spell that filled the entire book in an instant? A hundred methods fly through your head, but you're not sure of any of them. In the end, they're still printing books just like in Hafenport, albeit with Magic instead of Mechanics.
It's strange how much and how little Magic really changes about society.
You shake your head. You didn't pick up that pamphlet just to wonder how it was printed, so now you've got to read the darn thing. You find a seat at a nearby empty table and peel it open a few pages, diving in just after the introductory section.
Spiritual Magic has an impressive track record for being the "black sheep" of magical studies. It does not have an obvious source for its power, it requires much stricter rules in regards to its chants and incantations, and incompatibility carries a heavy price in the form of the Taint. As if that weren't enough, the study and practice of it is heavily regulated and overseen by the Temple Synagogue of Zak's capital, Temple City. This uncertainty and lack of user agency would discourage most scholars from seeking to know the secrets of the ancient "Kishuf Lev Tahor."
That doesn't prevent the hundreds of Zakran Mages of studying the art of the Soul. For many, the regulations are of no issue or consequence, and for those it applies, one can still find incredible freedom to study and grow their knowledge under special tutelage from the Synagogue.
This is because Spiritual Magic does not summon magic from an external source, like Divine and Demonic Magic, but utilizes the inherent power of the Human Soul as a catalyst for miracles. Spiritual Magic is not borrowing the power of a Celestial Entity, but imposing the True Will of the caster onto reality.
Of course, simple attempts to will your Soul into altering reality is not something a beginner can accomplish on their own. The Choir and Caretakers of the Synagogue have undertaken the task of training aspiring Mages the necessary prayers to harness this power, and are more than willing to help those who qualify to practice (see Study Qualifications Below).
This brings up the issue of Taints. For the safety of all, Tainted are heavily restricted in their study of Spiritual Magic. The Taint is a stain upon the Soul itself, and as such can have a drastic effect on its True Will. It makes even the simplest of Magics a dangerous affair, and much more likely to cause the target or caster harm. Sometimes both. If you suspect that you may have a Taint, consult your nearest clergy member and they will provide Screening free of charge. Early detection can save liv-
That doesn't prevent the hundreds of Zakran Mages of studying the art of the Soul. For many, the regulations are of no issue or consequence, and for those it applies, one can still find incredible freedom to study and grow their knowledge under special tutelage from the Synagogue.
This is because Spiritual Magic does not summon magic from an external source, like Divine and Demonic Magic, but utilizes the inherent power of the Human Soul as a catalyst for miracles. Spiritual Magic is not borrowing the power of a Celestial Entity, but imposing the True Will of the caster onto reality.
Of course, simple attempts to will your Soul into altering reality is not something a beginner can accomplish on their own. The Choir and Caretakers of the Synagogue have undertaken the task of training aspiring Mages the necessary prayers to harness this power, and are more than willing to help those who qualify to practice (see Study Qualifications Below).
This brings up the issue of Taints. For the safety of all, Tainted are heavily restricted in their study of Spiritual Magic. The Taint is a stain upon the Soul itself, and as such can have a drastic effect on its True Will. It makes even the simplest of Magics a dangerous affair, and much more likely to cause the target or caster harm. Sometimes both. If you suspect that you may have a Taint, consult your nearest clergy member and they will provide Screening free of charge. Early detection can save liv-
You fold the pamphlet closed. You almost can't believe it. This, this is what you're looking for. A connection, the barest hints as to "why" everything is so entwined. You can feel it. It's not a definite answer, but it's a start.
Manipulation of the Soul. A form of Magic truly unique in this world. Not reliant on the mood and availability of entities from Beyond, but a form of Magic fully under the control of the caster. At least, as much control as the Synagogue regulates knowledge of.
For all it promises, something greatly concerns you. You're not certain what, but you feel like the little pamphlet is lacking something important. Beyond the somewhat understandable limitation of the Synagogue on its study - if a Taint can kill people using only its bare hands, how much more damage could it do armed with modified spells? - it feels like there's some caveat that's been ignored, but you can't imagine what it is.
You feel like you're just waiting for the other shoe to drop any second now.
-:-:-;-:-:-
It takes you only a few minutes to check out the books and pamphlet you've found with the librarian, Naomi. She happily notes them all down, and even makes a few suggestions of further study material at your request. You're now ladened with copies of A Brief History of Zak, Composition of Will, and Rituals of Binding, in addition to the storybook and pamphlet you collected earlier.
Seems you have plenty of material to sift through, now.
"Please, visit again!" she calls, a little too sweetly.
You turn, carrying the heavy stack and nearly running someone one over. "Sorry!" you respond immediately.
"I-It's f-fine," a familiar stutter replies.
Oh, no, you pale slightly, only just noticing the raven hair peeking out from underneath the headdress. Lo-Ruhammah once again stands before you, though this time you're the one with a stack of books.
There's a moment of awkward silence where neither of you says anything. You'd say something, but your mind is too busy chittering sweet worries into your stream of consciousness, such as "oh god why is she here," "I feel so awkward for trying to chew her out after everything," "I really hope she hasn't told anyone about what happened yet," and this gem "please forgive me for killing all your friends and leaving you a sad lonely girl with nobody to rely on because I'd feel even more terrible than I already do if you somehow morphed this into a horrible vendetta and tried to kill me later."
Luckily, in the three seconds during which you were experiencing a completely new kind of panic around a woman, Naomi leaned over from behind you to spot the beleaguered Maiden.
"Oh, Lo-Ruhammah! I assume you finished putting all the books away?"
The ravenette nods. She's holding something close to her chest, but you can't see it for the stack you're carrying.
"Then please tell me, what exactly is it that you're holding there?"
She looks down, cheeks glowing a light red. A shade you're very well acquainted with yourself: embarrassment in the face of being chewed out.
"H-here," she says, holding a book out for you. The Secret of the Soul is inscribed in elegant, golden cursive on the waxy cover. She places it on top of your pile, trembling. "I-I th-thought it m-might h-help. W-with what we t-talked ab-bout." You can tell she's incredibly uncomfortable with the topic.
What a coincidence! So are you. You hope it never gets brought up again.
"Well, isn't that unexpected. You must have had quite the effect on her if she's giving you anything besides some lip."
You and Lo-Ru turn in perfect synchronicity to give Naomi a "was that really necessary?" look.
Her smile does not falter in the slightest. "What?" her eyes seem to say. Her perpetual squint never once really moving.
"You could say that," you break the now incredibly awkward silence, glancing at the now glowering Maiden. Did she tell her? Does Naomi know?
"Speaking of things with quite the effect, and since you're done with your work for the afternoon, would you mind discussing yesterday's… Incident, Lo-Ru?"
You could hear the capitalization. You glance at the girl in question. She meets neither of your eyes as she gives a small, curt nod.
"Alright!" Naomi's creepy smile brightens, approaching a facsimile of not-terrifying but not quite succeeding. "If that's everything, I believe you're free to go Den."
You nod and start to head out. You hesitate just before the heavy wooden doors of the Great Library and sneak a glance back towards the Sister and Maiden.
Lo-Ru is watching you from the very corner of her eye. She catches your look, gives you the smallest of nods, and follows Naomi up one of the stairs.
You wait for them to leave your field of vision before sighing in relief. You push on the doors, creaking as they move back. With a little more haste than necessary, you make to exit the Synagogue.
For the moment, it seems, your secret is safe. Assuming you read her nod right.
…
You really need to get better at the whole women and communication things.
-:-:-;-:-:-
And that's it for the day. You still have a gig to get to!
[x] Interlude!
-[] An Empty Escort
-[] A Curious Child
-[] The Fickle Father
-[] A Wailing Woman
-[] A Gentle Guard
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[x] Interlude!
-[x] An Empty Escort
-[x] An Empty Escort
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
When I say "inspired by SayakaQuest," I mostly mean inspired by Moid, who has a good enough hand to draw his own art for his quests. It cropped up a lot more in SQ than it did in AQ, and since that's all of his works I've read so far I mentioned the one with better examples. Moid is probably the SV-er who's had the most influence on my writing. Not in terms of actual style and phrasing, but definitely in terms of how to approach a story: "here is a concept, here are the ways it screws its characters over, and now players must overcome said mental/emotional teardowns." He and thagguy are actually very skilled in that manner. I could probably name more examples in that vein if I wanted but I'm currently going through SayakaQuest, Red Souls, and Crossbreed Priscilla Quest in my free time. The others would basically just be me reading the list of authors I follow.
Yeah, I have a type. It's mood whiplash and engaging narrative.
But back to the original topic, I really want to include a lot more art for Lev Tahor. I'm not very good with living figures like people or animals, but I draw lots of symbols and other designs that I feel could be useful for the quest. So this update was a chance for me to utilize visuals as a part of the narrative beyond descriptive prose. I'm hoping the combination works well for you guys, and if so I'm thinking of including imagery and designs more often. Let me know what you think!
Yeah, I have a type. It's mood whiplash and engaging narrative.
But back to the original topic, I really want to include a lot more art for Lev Tahor. I'm not very good with living figures like people or animals, but I draw lots of symbols and other designs that I feel could be useful for the quest. So this update was a chance for me to utilize visuals as a part of the narrative beyond descriptive prose. I'm hoping the combination works well for you guys, and if so I'm thinking of including imagery and designs more often. Let me know what you think!
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Den, you are doing it wrong. Normally these kinds of stories start by people erasing their seals, not by getting new ones. How many different ones are there, anyway? It's seven, isn't it?
Ah, that one is relatively easy. You just need to be an Expert on drawing red lines.
Den the heartbreaker, turning heads wherever he goes. Some of them 360 degrees.
Lo-Ru is surprisingly cooperative. More than I expected her to be. Does she believe the incident is, at least partially, her fault? Normally you'd report what happened if only to prevent a repeat, unless you somehow know there won't be one... or if you think that honesty may land you in more trouble than apprehending a murderer would be worth.
[x] Interlude!
-[x] A Gentle Guard
grommile
nasty-minded old cynic
- Location
- NERV-Mercia
- Pronouns
- Traditional/Animate
Ooh, Phoenician script! The letters appear to be 'ālep - hē - bet - hē - `ayin - zayin - mēm - ḥēt - tāw , or some rotation thereof. (Assuming it's to be read counterclockwise, and not clockwise or by tracing a nine-pointed star or such.)
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
She tried, it just came out as "hubbubbah ba bahhba thabba deda mama wallaa" and other nonsense. She's only started speaking intelligibly for about three hours! How good for her!
Veeeery close, good job! You accidentally switched the last two letters, and the - tāw - is supposed to be a - wāw - but I messed up drawing it. Now, if only you had some sort of vowel structure which allowed you to figure out what it was saying.
*glares in Hebrew*
[x] Interlude!
-[x] A Wailing Woman
-[x] A Wailing Woman
Interlude 3 - The Fickle Father
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
-:-:-;-:-:-
Day 3
Evening
Very few members of the Zakran Order appreciated the calming nature of directed violence. There was an incomparable sense of satisfaction and achievement when a strike was executed with flawless precision, or a kick performed with overwhelming power. A feeling of strength and might as adrenaline flooded the veins and the arm made impact. None could deny that, with a few well-placed acts of aggression, any trouble could be thoroughly dissolved.
And yet, as if in spite of this, Father Loammi could find little pleasure in his martial exercises today.
The heavy sack snapped back from its point of suspension, swinging out from his extended leg with audible force. A step had him dodge the return swing. He grabbed the sandbag, slowing its momentum until it hung at rest. A light sheen of sweat coated his brow, his raven hair falling in clumps over his eyes. He brushed them out of the way, cyan eyes refocusing on the punching bag.
Most of the Zakran Order believed the ritual exercises to be mere training of discipline. "To hone the body is to hone the mind" was nothing more than metaphor. That perspective was not wrong to see such value in the tasks, but it overlooked the deeper meaning. To train the body was to train the spirit, in the most literal sense of the idea. With every technique, with every grown muscle and quicker reflex, one became stronger. That strength, the strength of the Self, was the very basis for Spiritual Magic. Upon this strength was one able to choose their own path, and seek Truth.
Or so the priest liked to think. A poetic, theological justification that seemed fitting for the role of a Church Administrator. Put wisely enough to befit one honored with the title of "Father" like himself. Something to explain his religious dedication to martial mastery.
He once again squared himself to the bag, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. A subtle shift in stance - his form felt off - and a deep breath to center himself. Jab. Cross. Hook. Slip. The basics, forcing him to focus on form and steadiness as he moved. To be immovable even as he struck, unshakeable as his target was rattled by blows.
It was true that he believed his own thesis on these exercises, but he maintained an additional, far more practical purpose for his training. There was trouble brewing in Temple City. A spreading unrest plagued the masses, despite the High Priest's concessions. Taint-related deaths were on the rise, with rumors already circulating about the two girls yesterday. Even the Labyrinth was waking, revealing itself to those outside of the Synagogue's highest order. The delicate balance of the city was in flux, and if something was not done it would topple spectacularly. As it nearly had, ten years ago.
It would be the height of idiocy to remain complacent. If the events of a decade prior were to repeat, if the Tainted were to once again rise against the Order, then its members were duty-bound to prepare to defend themselves.
After all, the Order could not continue to seek a cure for the Taint if they were destroyed, could they? Hundreds of years of research, thousands of different theories, millions of tests conducted for such a goal, all within the Synagogue. If there were a cure, only the Order was equipped to find it.
His knuckle crashed against the sackcloth, a stronger application of force than entirely necessary.
Did they not understand that? Were they so short-sighted as to continually bite the hand which healed them? This was all for their sake, and yet they murdered Maidens and the like without care. They murdered Maidens, the holiest, most innocent of the Order. For what purpose?
None. Delusions that the system which protected them was imprisoning them. Why don't they understand?
The bag slipped off its hook with a CRACK, tumbling to the floor some feet away. Loammi stared at the lifeless sack for a moment, then to his extended fist. Red slowly seeped into a friction burn along the back of his fingers.
He flicked his wrist a few times, shaking away the stinging sensation as he moved towards the sandbag. Creaking wood and rusty hinges sounded behind him as he lifted it onto one shoulder. Turning, he saw a woman dressed in white robes, with raven hair cascading down one shoulder. She nervously brushed her hair with one good hand, the other loosely holding a headdress.
"Lo-Ruhammah," he grunted, sliding the bag back into place.
"F-Father Loammi," she stuttered, bowing. Her fingers fidgeted with an unruly lock by her heart.
The priest frowned, once again squaring himself with the sack. "It's only us, Lo-Ru. There's no need to be so formal."
A nod. "B-brother."
Not her usual custom, but he'd take what he could get. He put on a smile, hoping to calm her. "How did the debriefing go?"
"..."
The sound of muted strikes filled the silence that followed. He spared a glance her way, to see her wounded arm had joined the other in toying with her hair. She didn't look near him, instead focused on the floor in front of her.
"That bad."
She shuffled her feet.
He sighed, finishing his set with a powerful jab. Seeing her like this… it unnerved him. Lo-Ru was normally so confident and vivacious. She spoke her mind and never took back a single word. She was unapologetic, even when she was wrong. Pride seemed to be her most defining trait.
Now? Any pride she had was ripped away. Couldn't meet his eyes, held tightly to herself, could barely finish a sentence, it was as if she'd come to embody her own antithesis. He used to be able to just look at her and tell her mood--if she hadn't made it vocally apparent. Another glance her way revealed no information on what she was thinking or feeling besides the obvious: fear.
He almost made to ask her what she was afraid of, but he held his tongue. Even if he hadn't been officially briefed on the incident yet, rumor had spread quickly enough when she came back, covered in blood, lacking her ever-present companions. The look in her eyes alone would have tipped him off. Frightened, scared, unsure of whether the people around her were safe or monsters in disguise.
He'd have been a fool to mistake the signs of a Taint survivor.
He turned from the makeshift punching bag, putting on his best smile. He hoped it didn't look as fake as it felt. "Hit me."
"...?" She raised her head, confusion scrawled across her features.
Loammi backed onto a mat that took up the majority of the room, hands up and palms out. "Come, it'll clear your mind."
Lo-Ru hesitated, her injured hand still playing with her hair. Finally, she took a few shy steps onto the mat.
The older sibling smiled a bit more genuinely. "Well?"
A spark of irritation flitted through her viridian eyes, rolling with her shoulders. She pulled off her robes, standing in a tunic and pants and bandages that wrapped her bad arm. She faced her brother, tense as twine. She flicked out her good hand, shaking it loose.
"For Heaven's sake, just pu-"
SMACK.
He flicked his palm, brushing off the sting. Lo-Ru was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, turned to guard her injured arm and set to strike again. The tension in her stance faded with every hop. Emerald met cyan, and the two held a steady gaze.
The jab came with little warning, lacking proper windup and only foreseeable from the way her eyes scrunched slightly and her focus shifted toward his gut. Had it been one of the Maidens, or even a Taint, her fist would have buried deep into their stomach already.
But one was not accepted into the Choir without an eye for such tricks.
He slapped her fist aside. And the following one to his shoulder, and the next one aimed at his thigh. He could see the uncertainty in her wash away, replaced with cold and clear concentration. She was analyzing him, studying him for openings. Looking for a weakness to exploit.
Her knee came up, and his arm instinctively shoved it off trajectory. He'd have to commend her for changing tactics when this was over, yet couldn't help but frown at her recklessness. Footwork was strong, but it risked balance. A simple deflection was all it would take to upset her stance, and she'd be wide open for a counterstrike.
He made to chide her, only to be greeted with a rapidly approaching hook, accelerated by her awkward balance, and a wicked smile on her face.
He grinned as he was forced to dodge. "There's the Lo-Ru I know," he grunted out, once again redirecting the blows from her good hand. He let out a sudden jab of his own, only for the lithe girl to slip under the strike.
Both siblings wore expressions of ecstasy, dancing around each other in an elaborate and dangerous ritual. A mix of dedication and adrenaline fueling punch after punch, with both participants running a gauntlet of dodges and deflections with flawless precision.
Loammi had to admit, she'd gotten better since they last fought. She'd grown more defensive, avoiding what hits she could and covering her injured side when she couldn't. The all-or-nothing offense she used to lead with was tempered, reserved for moments where she was confident she could escape his inevitable counter.
If anything, her encounter with the Taint had taught her caution. Of that, he would be thankful. It would help her immensely in the coming days.
Neither of them had landed a solid blow yet, a testament to her skill as a fighter and his dedication to martial practice, but their stalemate could only last so long.
He pulled an uppercut, shifting his momentum into a jab and forcing Lo-Ru off balance as she threw herself out of the way. She grit her teeth, forced onto the defensive as her only good hand was occupied with deflecting both of his. She couldn't counter, and couldn't turn the tide with her other arm shattered as it was. Her tenacity was impressive, but it would crumble eventually. And when it did, he would win.
Again.
Which was why he was so inexplicably proud when she stared right into his eyes as she ducked into his range, grabbing his wrist with her good hand, pulling hard and crashing her bandaged fist into his gut. No warning, no wind-up or stray glances, simply spur-of-the-moment action. A perfect, solid strike.
"Sh-sh-shit!" She yelped, gripping her mangled appendage. A series of highly explicit and descriptive words, not entirely forming a coherent sentence, spewed from her mouth. She waltzed atop the mat like a dying animal, complete with howling.
As she made her third pass around him, Loammi reached out and ruffled her hair. "Feeling like yourself again?"
"M-my arm is m-mush!" She exclaimed. "I j-just punched you with m-mush! Fuck!" She set loose another series of slurred swears. "Why did I think that-t was a g-good idea?"
"It was clever," He kneeled to her side, gently peeling her wounded arm from her grip. "I certainly didn't expect it."
"Nobody would exp-pect a stupid plan like th-that." She pouted, wincing as he ran his fingers along her bandages.
He shrugged, a subtle glow crossing the space between his hand and her arm as the Sacred Words filled his mind. He opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the sound of rusty hinges and creaking wood. Voices followed, full of a myriad of tones and emotions. Was it already time for the evening lesson?
They quieted some when one of the arrivals noticed the two siblings. None of them wanted to interrupt a Father in the midst of a spell.
"There," he said, tone formal as he rose from the floor the moment it finished. "That should dull the pain for a time. Don't strain it any further, especially while it's still recovering."
She nodded, unable to school her relieved expression. "Thank you, Ammi-"
"That's Father Loammi, Lo-Ruhammah," the priest chided, standing tall and proud. "I may be your brother, but the hierarchy cannot be ignored." He glanced towards the gathering crowd, full of Maidens, Sisters, and Brothers. His flock, if he were feeling particularly sentimental. One of them, a girl with sky blue hair, stiffened at his glance and quickly looked away. "If you'll excuse me, I have martial training to conduct."
ALL HAIL THE KING
Her face fell neutral in the short span of time before she nodded. "Y-yes, Father."Lo-Ruhammah held a fantastic poker face. From a glance, it seemed as though she'd once again found her confidence, that her shaking had stopped and the traumatic events of the previous day had been forgotten. Only her eyes gave away the subtle tinge of returning fear as her adrenaline faded. And as she turned, he thought he saw a flicker of hurt in her expression.
She was gone and out the door before he could consider it any further. If his sister was displeased with his sudden formality, she would get over it soon enough. She knew he took his role as a Father seriously. She would understand, there was a time to be a brother and a time to be a Father. It had always been that way.
When she was over the shock of the attack, she would agree with him. He knew her better than anyone.
He put her out of his mind as he turned towards his students, almost all of whom were looking to him, ready to begin. The only exception was the bluenette, who gazed at the open doorway with a hint of worry on her face. He cleared his throat, and the girl snapped her head forwards, trying to look attentive.
Loammi put on his best smile, and martial training began.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Day 3 Completed
Day 4 Begins
-:-:-;-:-:-
Day 3 Completed
Day 4 Begins
-:-:-;-:-:-
Take control of:
[] Den
[] Anna
Morning Agenda:
[] Talk to...
-[] your provider
-[] your neighbor
[] Do...
-[] morning routine
-[] the reading/study thing
-[] nothing
[] Explore!
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Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
HOLY GALLBLAMMIN' SHOOT DANG FRACK SWEAR HECK DARN BLAST CRAP.
It's been a while.
Apologies for the delay, the last three weeks have been exceptionally busy at work for me, preventing me from updating. The good news is that, once it was all said and done, I did a well enough job that I was called in today for a promotion. Hooray!
Also, screw this chapter. I love it, it's been one of my favorite interludes since I planned it, but it was an absolute train wreck to write. I went through so many drafts, I would have killed a forest if I'd been using a pen and paper.
Anyways, here's the update. Lev Tahor is not dead, just very, very exhausted from three weeks of late nights at work. There should be a return to a regular update schedule, but the frequency is still up in the air. Hoping for every two or three days, but who knows. I'm really just excited to begin the approach to Act II, when all the fun stuff starts.
It's been a while.
Apologies for the delay, the last three weeks have been exceptionally busy at work for me, preventing me from updating. The good news is that, once it was all said and done, I did a well enough job that I was called in today for a promotion. Hooray!
Also, screw this chapter. I love it, it's been one of my favorite interludes since I planned it, but it was an absolute train wreck to write. I went through so many drafts, I would have killed a forest if I'd been using a pen and paper.
Anyways, here's the update. Lev Tahor is not dead, just very, very exhausted from three weeks of late nights at work. There should be a return to a regular update schedule, but the frequency is still up in the air. Hoping for every two or three days, but who knows. I'm really just excited to begin the approach to Act II, when all the fun stuff starts.
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[X] Anna
[X] Talk to...
-[X] your neighbor
[X] Talk to...
-[X] your neighbor
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Oh, so Father Loammi can throw a mean punch, eh? I bet that, in a different time and place, he'd look pretty badass with a shotgun...
Dammit, why did Lo-Ru have to start as an antagonist? She is quickly racking up points in my book. When the smart thing to do ends in your defeat anyway, it's time to go for the stupid thing and hope to take them by surprise. She'd be totally my type if she didn't have a penchant for torturing people now and then.
Are we heading towards another riot? The way Loammi thinks about them, they seem to have a supernatural cause as well, not just mundane discontent. Then again, the essense of the Taint is already somewhat supernatural, so I don't know how much of a distinction there is. Perhaps one is a catalyst for the other, and lowered inhibitions fall upon a fertile soil of bubbling unrest.
I am still not sure why Anna's house got caught in the fires ten years ago. Just a victim of coincidence, or were her family involved in it somehow?
[x] Anna
[x] Explore!
Ah, the wonders of exploring the Sinagogue for the 1000th time. We are bound to find something interesting which would no doubt excuse us from shirking our duties again, I just know it.
Dammit, why did Lo-Ru have to start as an antagonist? She is quickly racking up points in my book. When the smart thing to do ends in your defeat anyway, it's time to go for the stupid thing and hope to take them by surprise. She'd be totally my type if she didn't have a penchant for torturing people now and then.
Are we heading towards another riot? The way Loammi thinks about them, they seem to have a supernatural cause as well, not just mundane discontent. Then again, the essense of the Taint is already somewhat supernatural, so I don't know how much of a distinction there is. Perhaps one is a catalyst for the other, and lowered inhibitions fall upon a fertile soil of bubbling unrest.
I am still not sure why Anna's house got caught in the fires ten years ago. Just a victim of coincidence, or were her family involved in it somehow?
I imagine one of the reasons they don't understand is because very little is explained to them.
Who is our provider, again?
[x] Anna
[x] Explore!
Ah, the wonders of exploring the Sinagogue for the 1000th time. We are bound to find something interesting which would no doubt excuse us from shirking our duties again, I just know it.
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Downstreamer
The Architect
- Location
- The Manifold
[x] Anna
[x] Explore!
[x] Explore!