The room was stuffy. Too stuffy. That was the first thing you came to focus on as the fuzziness...
Lev Tahor
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Prologue - 0. Meet Your Protagonists
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
The room was stuffy. Too stuffy. That was the first thing you came to focus on as the fuzziness in your mind faded and you awoke. How you could barely breathe because of how hot the air was. The creaking wood and crackling flames came as the first bit of grogginess slipped away. You frown. You don't remember having a fireplace. Where was that coming from?
In a moment you will never forget, you open your eyes.
Right in front of you is the face of a beautiful young woman, blue hair framing her delicate face. Her smile fills you with comfort and you reach a hand towards her.
Mom? You try to say, but what escapes your throat is sound somewhere between a horrendous cough and a screech. You curl into yourself, hacking blood and soot onto the floor. When you're done, you again look at your mother. This time, you scream properly.
Her blue hair is matted with blood, a rivulet pouring down her brow and over one dead eye. Her smile is not gentle, but wild and desperate. She, like you, is lying on the floor. Her clothes are shredded beyond recognition, covering nothing important except a long-dried bloodstain on her torso.
You jump back, horrified. You slip on something and feel a sudden surge of pain in your leg. You look down to find yourself in a similar state of undress, a loose collection of cloth that might have been a dress hanging from your shoulder and wrapping around your waist. Below that, nothing, giving you full view of the gash tracing down the length of your thigh. A splintered floorboard peaks up beside you, the top coated in a fresh paint of crimson.
A groan echoes loudly, forcing you to look up. What used to be a house is now a flaming ruin. The carpets and furniture are crushed and ablaze. Every wall has blackened as the flames lick up their length. The stairwell collapsed under the stress of the inferno. The ceiling is buckling under the weight of the-
The ceiling is falling!
You scramble in the general direction of the door you know is behind you. Your body feels like it's on fire, your wounded leg like an icy dead weight. Foot by foot you drag yourself towards the safety of not here as the groaning increases, more and more of the upper floor peeking through points the blaze has already consumed.
A great CRACK sounds as the upper floor finally crumbles under itself, hurtling towards you. With the last of your strength, you force yourself to ignore the pain in your leg and leap through the aperture. For a brief moment, relief floods you as the icy night air crashes into you as you do the same to the cobblestone street on which your home resides.
That moment is cut short as you feel a sudden heat against your back. Before you can react, a weight falls atop you. A hot, painful weight. You can't move, pinned as you are by the dislodged door. The fire begins to crawl down the wood, licking at your skin. You scream. You scream for your mother, for your father, for anyone who can hear. You thrash and wail as the door holds you down and scorches your back. You whimper when you realize nobody is coming to help you. Despite the pain, you start to cry.
And as suddenly as it came upon you, the weight and the pain is lifted. You feel something wrap around your waist and the ground fall away from you. There is a loud crash behind you and a soothing cool flows along your back. Your feet touch the ground once again and you wipe away the tears from your eyes.
Before you stands an older man dressed in a plain white tunic. He looks at you with eyes like the ocean, flowing with concern and relief. "Are you okay, little miss?" He has a kind voice, you think.
You look at yourself. A single strap of your dress sits on your shoulder, covering a small portion of your own modesty with a fragile grip. Your legs are covered in blood, your left leg leaking from a jagged wound and small rivulets working down your inner thighs from- Funny, you didn't think you'd hit puberty yet.
You quickly turn to look at your back. It hurts to do so and feels very stiff. You give up after a moment and nod at the man with a wince.
He holds out a long white robe. "Please, put this on." You oblige. As you do, he continues to look at you with those kind eyes. "Can you tell me your name, little girl?"
You pause, quickly finishing up your new dress. The robe is exceptionally long and trails several feet behind you, obviously meant for an adult. However, the extra length works in your favor as you pull it in to cover yourself properly. "Anna," you say with your small voice.
The man smiles. "What a lovely name."
Something rushes through you at that and you feel your heart stop dead in its tracks. It kicks back into gear a moment later, though your breathing feels just a little more rushed.
He reaches a hand towards you. "Come with me, Anna. I have a place we can go to fix up those nasty injuries."
You stare at the hand for just a moment, before putting your own in it. His palm dwarfs yours, but you manage to cling on just fine.
"Okay."
If you have read this far, then you've just completed the "opening cutscene" of this Quest. The little girl you have just met is but one of many characters you may find yourself interacting within this Quest. Sadly, she is not yet under your direct control. You might be able to change that if you work hard enough. For the moment, "Den" has graciously volunteered to fill that role.
Your goal in this Quest is to complete the primary goal of one or all of the playable characters, particularly "Den" and Anna, who will explain and elaborate on them as the story progresses. You can complete them in any way, shape or form, after all a technical victory is still a victory, right?
You feel the wind blow through your hair as the cart canters down the open road. The sun shines on your face, the grass on either side of the path stretches out for miles until it reaches the distant mountains and forests. For a moment, you have not a care in the world.
"Oi, kid. We're almost there." The gruff voice calls from the front bench into the bed of the cart, disturbing your fleeting rest. "Start packin' your things, can't have my wagon lookin' like a mess of… whatever all that is." He waves a burly arm at the various books and items spread upon the floor of the cart.
And I was just starting my break, too. You think before you shrug off the errant thought. The driver wasn't wrong, even from this distance the white walls surrounding Temple City were impossible to miss. They seemed to glow with a radiant aura, even in the daylight. Beyond that, the golden dome that capped the titular Temple Synagogue peaked well above the other structures of the city, sparkling like a beacon to any pilgrim seeking a place to go.
Which is exactly what you were, a pilgrim. A pilgrim seeking a knowledge unobtainable in any other part of this world: Spiritual Magic.
As you packed away the myriad books and manuscripts spread about the wagon floor, you're made aware of just how obsessive you've become over it. Magical theories, formulas, and hypotheses on spells and their functions, enough study and information to make any aspiring mage salivate. And still, you haven't found a hint of the spell you're looking for. Despite its name, the Magical Kingdom of Zoroaster was unable to help you on your quest. But that didn't really discourage you. Zak was just as magically proficient a nation.
Maybe here, in its capital, you'd find a spell that could take you home.
As Temple City filled more of the horizon, so too did you finish filling your pack to the brim. A quick glance reveals you still have a few items left lying out. A bit of nostalgia fills you looking at them. Maybe you don't need to put everything away just yet?
[] Pick up the Demon's Claw Necklace. Maybe it won't give you the heebie-jeebies this time?
[] Open the Divine Tome. Hopefully, you'll be able to make some sense of the spells inside?
[] Play a song on your Mandolin. The day is too beautiful to waste with more study.
In a moment you will never forget, you open your eyes.
Right in front of you is the face of a beautiful young woman, blue hair framing her delicate face. Her smile fills you with comfort and you reach a hand towards her.
Mom? You try to say, but what escapes your throat is sound somewhere between a horrendous cough and a screech. You curl into yourself, hacking blood and soot onto the floor. When you're done, you again look at your mother. This time, you scream properly.
Her blue hair is matted with blood, a rivulet pouring down her brow and over one dead eye. Her smile is not gentle, but wild and desperate. She, like you, is lying on the floor. Her clothes are shredded beyond recognition, covering nothing important except a long-dried bloodstain on her torso.
You jump back, horrified. You slip on something and feel a sudden surge of pain in your leg. You look down to find yourself in a similar state of undress, a loose collection of cloth that might have been a dress hanging from your shoulder and wrapping around your waist. Below that, nothing, giving you full view of the gash tracing down the length of your thigh. A splintered floorboard peaks up beside you, the top coated in a fresh paint of crimson.
A groan echoes loudly, forcing you to look up. What used to be a house is now a flaming ruin. The carpets and furniture are crushed and ablaze. Every wall has blackened as the flames lick up their length. The stairwell collapsed under the stress of the inferno. The ceiling is buckling under the weight of the-
The ceiling is falling!
You scramble in the general direction of the door you know is behind you. Your body feels like it's on fire, your wounded leg like an icy dead weight. Foot by foot you drag yourself towards the safety of not here as the groaning increases, more and more of the upper floor peeking through points the blaze has already consumed.
A great CRACK sounds as the upper floor finally crumbles under itself, hurtling towards you. With the last of your strength, you force yourself to ignore the pain in your leg and leap through the aperture. For a brief moment, relief floods you as the icy night air crashes into you as you do the same to the cobblestone street on which your home resides.
That moment is cut short as you feel a sudden heat against your back. Before you can react, a weight falls atop you. A hot, painful weight. You can't move, pinned as you are by the dislodged door. The fire begins to crawl down the wood, licking at your skin. You scream. You scream for your mother, for your father, for anyone who can hear. You thrash and wail as the door holds you down and scorches your back. You whimper when you realize nobody is coming to help you. Despite the pain, you start to cry.
And as suddenly as it came upon you, the weight and the pain is lifted. You feel something wrap around your waist and the ground fall away from you. There is a loud crash behind you and a soothing cool flows along your back. Your feet touch the ground once again and you wipe away the tears from your eyes.
Before you stands an older man dressed in a plain white tunic. He looks at you with eyes like the ocean, flowing with concern and relief. "Are you okay, little miss?" He has a kind voice, you think.
You look at yourself. A single strap of your dress sits on your shoulder, covering a small portion of your own modesty with a fragile grip. Your legs are covered in blood, your left leg leaking from a jagged wound and small rivulets working down your inner thighs from- Funny, you didn't think you'd hit puberty yet.
You quickly turn to look at your back. It hurts to do so and feels very stiff. You give up after a moment and nod at the man with a wince.
He holds out a long white robe. "Please, put this on." You oblige. As you do, he continues to look at you with those kind eyes. "Can you tell me your name, little girl?"
You pause, quickly finishing up your new dress. The robe is exceptionally long and trails several feet behind you, obviously meant for an adult. However, the extra length works in your favor as you pull it in to cover yourself properly. "Anna," you say with your small voice.
The man smiles. "What a lovely name."
Something rushes through you at that and you feel your heart stop dead in its tracks. It kicks back into gear a moment later, though your breathing feels just a little more rushed.
He reaches a hand towards you. "Come with me, Anna. I have a place we can go to fix up those nasty injuries."
You stare at the hand for just a moment, before putting your own in it. His palm dwarfs yours, but you manage to cling on just fine.
"Okay."
-:-:-;-:-:-
If you have read this far, then you've just completed the "opening cutscene" of this Quest. The little girl you have just met is but one of many characters you may find yourself interacting within this Quest. Sadly, she is not yet under your direct control. You might be able to change that if you work hard enough. For the moment, "Den" has graciously volunteered to fill that role.
Your goal in this Quest is to complete the primary goal of one or all of the playable characters, particularly "Den" and Anna, who will explain and elaborate on them as the story progresses. You can complete them in any way, shape or form, after all a technical victory is still a victory, right?
-:-:-;-:-:-
You feel the wind blow through your hair as the cart canters down the open road. The sun shines on your face, the grass on either side of the path stretches out for miles until it reaches the distant mountains and forests. For a moment, you have not a care in the world.
"Oi, kid. We're almost there." The gruff voice calls from the front bench into the bed of the cart, disturbing your fleeting rest. "Start packin' your things, can't have my wagon lookin' like a mess of… whatever all that is." He waves a burly arm at the various books and items spread upon the floor of the cart.
And I was just starting my break, too. You think before you shrug off the errant thought. The driver wasn't wrong, even from this distance the white walls surrounding Temple City were impossible to miss. They seemed to glow with a radiant aura, even in the daylight. Beyond that, the golden dome that capped the titular Temple Synagogue peaked well above the other structures of the city, sparkling like a beacon to any pilgrim seeking a place to go.
Which is exactly what you were, a pilgrim. A pilgrim seeking a knowledge unobtainable in any other part of this world: Spiritual Magic.
As you packed away the myriad books and manuscripts spread about the wagon floor, you're made aware of just how obsessive you've become over it. Magical theories, formulas, and hypotheses on spells and their functions, enough study and information to make any aspiring mage salivate. And still, you haven't found a hint of the spell you're looking for. Despite its name, the Magical Kingdom of Zoroaster was unable to help you on your quest. But that didn't really discourage you. Zak was just as magically proficient a nation.
Maybe here, in its capital, you'd find a spell that could take you home.
As Temple City filled more of the horizon, so too did you finish filling your pack to the brim. A quick glance reveals you still have a few items left lying out. A bit of nostalgia fills you looking at them. Maybe you don't need to put everything away just yet?
-:-:-;-:-:-
[] Pick up the Demon's Claw Necklace. Maybe it won't give you the heebie-jeebies this time?
[] Open the Divine Tome. Hopefully, you'll be able to make some sense of the spells inside?
[] Play a song on your Mandolin. The day is too beautiful to waste with more study.
Last edited:
Prologue - 1. Look Ma, Magic!
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
[X] Play a song on your Mandolin. The day is too beautiful to waste with more study.
You eye the Demon's Claw and the Divine Tome. Yeah, best not mess around with unfamiliar magic again. Especially when your only mode of transportation is currently in the potential blast radius. Instead, you pick up the worn neck of the only friend you've had this past year.
The Mandolin is nothing particularly special. It's visually a lot like a small guitar, with a few extra strings and a little less polish. You're pretty certain that was the reason you initially picked it up. It was a familiar sight in an unfamiliar land.
Of course, it turned out the mandolin was nothing like the guitar. What a rough and penniless month that mistake caused.
Still, even as you lie in the back of the cart, a familiar pattern works its way down your fingers against the strings and you feel yourself slip away. You can hear the strings and winds pick up around you as you play. You're almost certain you catch the tinkling of keys in the soft breeze. Your own mandolin fades into the background, simply plucking along to the melody. A smile crosses your face as you let the Harmonic Magic fill the air around you. You'll never quite get used to the way music works in this land, acting as a vessel for your emotions and realizing the song from your mind into reality. You let your sense of wonder flow into the tune for a moment.
You sing aloud the words as they come. Your voice is not special, but you can carry a tune and that's all that matters here. The words and song, introspective as they are, drag you into yourself. You remember the first time you heard this song, sitting on your roof as you watched the stars pass by. You remember the rambling conversation from that night, punctuated by a voice singing softly. The corner of your mouth twitches up.
You sing the chorus and another memory surfaces. A quickly written letter flashes briefly across your mind. Quickly written, forever remembered. Your smile falters.
…
"We're here," the driver informs you.
You mute the strings and the accompaniment stops, fading out into the wind. In a moment you've slung your pack across your back, put on the Necklace, and hooked the Tome to your waist. You keep hold of your Mandolin. You really can't let that go, can you?
The driver flicks the reigns, eliciting a whine from the horses drawing the cart. "Thank God, that was depressin'." He mutters under his breath.
The white walls of Temple City loom over you, shining brightly in the Sunlight. They tower at least a hundred feet above you, making the gate you stop before seem minuscule. Even then, you think you could fit a cart twice as high and three times as wide as your ride through the entrance without trouble.
A trio of guards stands between you and the heavy wooden doors of the city, coated in shining silver armor and wrapped in white cloth. Each carries a pike and shield, the former pristinely kept and the latter polished so as to make the Synagogue's emblem seem to glow. One of them, sporting a bushy mustache, breaks off and approaches the driver. As he moves closer, you see just how huge that thing is. It takes up almost his entire lower face!
"Merchant?"
"Trav'ler," the burly man corrects, pointing back to you. "Ferryin' some sorta scholar or bard."
The guard's eyes drift to you for a moment before he spots your Mandolin. "Ah. Leaving come morning?"
"Aye."
The mustache nods before pulling out a paper and writing something down. After a few short moments, in which you idly sit in the cart bed twiddling a tuning peg, the guard nods at his paperwork and turns to you. "Alright, just a few questions and you can head in."
Wait, a test? Oh no! You explicitly remember shirking any sort of study in order to play your mandolin! Oh karma, why are you so cruel?
Good news, you've made it to Character Creation. Bad News, you've now got lots of choices to make. Don't expect this choice dump to be a recurring thing, I'll try to keep it to one or two in the future, once we move out of "Setup an Unfamiliar World" and into what I really want for this Quest: Persona but a fantasy world.
You think I'm joking, I'm not.
Um, hello? Sir? Can you answer my questions now? Thank you.
What is your name?
[] Stick with "Den." You've been using it for almost a year now, it's just starting to feel normal.
[] Give him your birth name. You can't hide forever.
[] ...You reeeaaaaallllyyy should have studied for this. Come up with a new name. (Write-in)
What is your occupation?
[] Full-time scholar. You spent most of your time pouring over the texts you've amassed, only working for as long as it took to have a roof over your head and a meal in your belly. You don't have a lot of money, but the knowledge you've gained more than makes up for it. You think. (Impoverished/ Increased Research Modifier)
[] Mercenary. Magic is an incredibly practical solution to a myriad of problems. It took you doing a few odd jobs by hand, but afterward, you became a mage-for-hire, willing to magically solve anyone's problems as long as they had the money for it. Your studies did suffer somewhat, but that shouldn't be a problem any longer. (Wealthy/ Reduced Research Modifier)
[] Bard. Once you discovered you could cast magic and make money by playing music, you never stopped. By day you would study a tome in a back corner of a tavern, and by night you'd earn your keep as the local entertainment. Your sleep schedule is probably forever ruined, but at least you don't need to worry about money or your studies. (Average/ No Research Modifier)
Has a Zakran Mage diagnosed you with Tainted Soul?
[]Yes. He was incredibly rude about it too. Wouldn't even talk to you afterward.
[]No. You've never even met a Zakran Mage. What does that even mean, anyway?
Do you agree to submit yourself to a Soul Screening within the next week?
[] Yes. Whatever it takes to get you into the city.
[] No. The heck is a Soul Screening? That sounds incredibly suspicious to you.
You eye the Demon's Claw and the Divine Tome. Yeah, best not mess around with unfamiliar magic again. Especially when your only mode of transportation is currently in the potential blast radius. Instead, you pick up the worn neck of the only friend you've had this past year.
The Mandolin is nothing particularly special. It's visually a lot like a small guitar, with a few extra strings and a little less polish. You're pretty certain that was the reason you initially picked it up. It was a familiar sight in an unfamiliar land.
Of course, it turned out the mandolin was nothing like the guitar. What a rough and penniless month that mistake caused.
Still, even as you lie in the back of the cart, a familiar pattern works its way down your fingers against the strings and you feel yourself slip away. You can hear the strings and winds pick up around you as you play. You're almost certain you catch the tinkling of keys in the soft breeze. Your own mandolin fades into the background, simply plucking along to the melody. A smile crosses your face as you let the Harmonic Magic fill the air around you. You'll never quite get used to the way music works in this land, acting as a vessel for your emotions and realizing the song from your mind into reality. You let your sense of wonder flow into the tune for a moment.
You sing aloud the words as they come. Your voice is not special, but you can carry a tune and that's all that matters here. The words and song, introspective as they are, drag you into yourself. You remember the first time you heard this song, sitting on your roof as you watched the stars pass by. You remember the rambling conversation from that night, punctuated by a voice singing softly. The corner of your mouth twitches up.
You sing the chorus and another memory surfaces. A quickly written letter flashes briefly across your mind. Quickly written, forever remembered. Your smile falters.
…
"We're here," the driver informs you.
You mute the strings and the accompaniment stops, fading out into the wind. In a moment you've slung your pack across your back, put on the Necklace, and hooked the Tome to your waist. You keep hold of your Mandolin. You really can't let that go, can you?
The driver flicks the reigns, eliciting a whine from the horses drawing the cart. "Thank God, that was depressin'." He mutters under his breath.
The white walls of Temple City loom over you, shining brightly in the Sunlight. They tower at least a hundred feet above you, making the gate you stop before seem minuscule. Even then, you think you could fit a cart twice as high and three times as wide as your ride through the entrance without trouble.
A trio of guards stands between you and the heavy wooden doors of the city, coated in shining silver armor and wrapped in white cloth. Each carries a pike and shield, the former pristinely kept and the latter polished so as to make the Synagogue's emblem seem to glow. One of them, sporting a bushy mustache, breaks off and approaches the driver. As he moves closer, you see just how huge that thing is. It takes up almost his entire lower face!
"Merchant?"
"Trav'ler," the burly man corrects, pointing back to you. "Ferryin' some sorta scholar or bard."
The guard's eyes drift to you for a moment before he spots your Mandolin. "Ah. Leaving come morning?"
"Aye."
The mustache nods before pulling out a paper and writing something down. After a few short moments, in which you idly sit in the cart bed twiddling a tuning peg, the guard nods at his paperwork and turns to you. "Alright, just a few questions and you can head in."
Wait, a test? Oh no! You explicitly remember shirking any sort of study in order to play your mandolin! Oh karma, why are you so cruel?
-:-:-;-:-:-
Good news, you've made it to Character Creation. Bad News, you've now got lots of choices to make. Don't expect this choice dump to be a recurring thing, I'll try to keep it to one or two in the future, once we move out of "Setup an Unfamiliar World" and into what I really want for this Quest: Persona but a fantasy world.
You think I'm joking, I'm not.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Um, hello? Sir? Can you answer my questions now? Thank you.
What is your name?
[] Stick with "Den." You've been using it for almost a year now, it's just starting to feel normal.
[] Give him your birth name. You can't hide forever.
[] ...You reeeaaaaallllyyy should have studied for this. Come up with a new name. (Write-in)
What is your occupation?
[] Full-time scholar. You spent most of your time pouring over the texts you've amassed, only working for as long as it took to have a roof over your head and a meal in your belly. You don't have a lot of money, but the knowledge you've gained more than makes up for it. You think. (Impoverished/ Increased Research Modifier)
[] Mercenary. Magic is an incredibly practical solution to a myriad of problems. It took you doing a few odd jobs by hand, but afterward, you became a mage-for-hire, willing to magically solve anyone's problems as long as they had the money for it. Your studies did suffer somewhat, but that shouldn't be a problem any longer. (Wealthy/ Reduced Research Modifier)
[] Bard. Once you discovered you could cast magic and make money by playing music, you never stopped. By day you would study a tome in a back corner of a tavern, and by night you'd earn your keep as the local entertainment. Your sleep schedule is probably forever ruined, but at least you don't need to worry about money or your studies. (Average/ No Research Modifier)
Has a Zakran Mage diagnosed you with Tainted Soul?
[]Yes. He was incredibly rude about it too. Wouldn't even talk to you afterward.
[]No. You've never even met a Zakran Mage. What does that even mean, anyway?
Do you agree to submit yourself to a Soul Screening within the next week?
[] Yes. Whatever it takes to get you into the city.
[] No. The heck is a Soul Screening? That sounds incredibly suspicious to you.
Last edited:
Prologue - 2. Does Anybody Read the Fine Print?
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
Funny story, googling this quest today revealed an article with a Jewish cult of the same name which had come under numerous allegations of kidnapping and abuse. Both issues were planned months ago as part of certain characters backstories in this quest. It's complete coincidence, but I find the similarities to be amusing and appropriate.
[X] Call Me Den
[X] Bards Are Best
[X] I Totally Know What Tainted Souls Are, but Explain Them to Me Anyways
[X] I Stopped Paying Attention to the Fine Print and Just Signed My Name at the Bottom
"Tavern's o'er there." Your driver points down the road a bit. "Should be willin' to put up a bard o' your type for a song or two."
You give him a nod before you hop off the cart. "Thank you. Will you be staying there, Geoff?"
He shakes his head. "Coaches like mine're asked to stay by the wall. City's not too keen on letting outsiders in if they can help it." He whips the reigns, spurring the horses into a trot. "So long, Den."
You wave him off, watching the cart shrink down the road before slipping out of view down a side street. And so ends the longest contact with another human I've had this last year. You sigh dejectedly, before smacking your cheeks to psych yourself up. It's super effective!
As you approach the building Geoff directed you towards, you realize calling it a tavern is a bit deceiving. The three-story structure looks more akin to a hotel than a bar, with heavy wooden doors and paned windows stretched along its front. Besides the door, a golden stallion rears back upon the establishment's emblem. You feel as though this place is derivative of something, but the exact source eludes you.
Stepping inside, the smell of warm broth and bread crashes into you. For a moment you just stand there, enjoying the warmth and sweet scent of a decent meal before you search for its source. The task proves itself simple enough and you soon find yourself standing at a window between the main area and the kitchen. A young woman sits on the other side, reading a book. She quickly notices you and looks up.
"Can I help you?" The innkeep asks.
You order yourself a simple meal and happily hand her the coins she asks for. She disappears for a moment before returning with a bowl of soup and a few rolls. Thanking her, you take them and seat yourself at one of the many open tables nearby. You're almost certain this place is packed in the evenings due to how nice it is, but it's barely mid-afternoon. Still, you appreciate the moment of quiet for what it is. Plus, it gives you an opportunity to study up on some of your research.
You'd feared that the guards at the gate would take it away from you when they grew suspicious at the answers you provided to their interrogation. It's not entirely your fault though, you're certain anyone would be confused to a seemingly absurd question planted amidst everything else. You are a mage, so you could excuse your initial affirmative response. But that question about being tainted didn't really make sense to you, and you weren't entirely sure what to answer even after they'd explained it. Apparently, the Mages who studied in Temple Synagogue could determine the purity of your Soul. You hadn't met a single Mage who could do that, or if they could then they'd kept quiet about it.
The guards had compromised with you, allowing you to enter as long as you got a Soul Screening in the morning. You agreed, on the basis of wanting to be done with the questions and finally get some rest after a long journey. Two weeks of riding in a rickety cart is not as fun as it sounds.
As you nibble on a roll soaked in broth, you pull out the Divine Tome and begin to skim the early pages again. Most of it is tales a majority of the world considers legend, stories of heroes slaying demons with the assistance of holy blessings and artifacts. That sort of content would turn a good amount of self-respecting scholars away, as they could be better spending their time studying the academic literature on spellcraft and achieve quicker results. You, however, find yourself fascinated with the stories. Some are familiar tales you grew up with, such as the one about a king who united his nation by claiming a long-sealed blade before scouring the land for a magical grail. Others seem more historical, going into detail about the particulars of a nation and their rise or fall. What connects them all are the particular types of magic all the narratives share at their core.
From what you've gleaned in these stories, Divine Magic is not something that comes from within. It's more like summoning power from elsewhere, usually an Angel. The stories make it clear that Demonic Magic works in the same way, though rather obviously from a Demon. You have an inkling that there's more to that distinction than technicality, but you haven't completely figured it out yet.
You look out a nearby window. The sun is still an hour or two away from setting behind the pale walls of the city, at which point you'd probably call it evening. You could keep studying the Tome for more knowledge, or pull out some other material to work on. It might also be a good idea to talk to the innkeep about getting a room for the night. You might even get a discount if you mention you're a bard and willing to play entertainment tonight. Or you could do none of that and just relax or explore. Now that you're not confined to a cart on the road you can do so much more with your day!
You've completed Character Creation and upgraded your Magic Stats!
Divine -> Lvl 1 (0/???)
Demonic -> Lvl 1 (0/???)
Harmonic -> Lvl 2 (0/???)
How will you spend your afternoon?
[] Study the Tome
-[] for spells
-[] for hints of what makes Divine and Demonic magics unique
[] Research other materials (1d4 Research Points per hour spent on a subject)
-[] Divine Magic
-[] Demonic Magic
-[] Harmonic Magic
[] Talk to the Innkeep (get a room)
-[] mention you're a Bard
-[] just make small talk, you're too tired to play tonight.
[] Go exploring (choose a cardinal direction)
[] Just relax (skip to evening)
-:-:-;-:-:-
[X] Call Me Den
[X] Bards Are Best
[X] I Totally Know What Tainted Souls Are, but Explain Them to Me Anyways
[X] I Stopped Paying Attention to the Fine Print and Just Signed My Name at the Bottom
"Tavern's o'er there." Your driver points down the road a bit. "Should be willin' to put up a bard o' your type for a song or two."
You give him a nod before you hop off the cart. "Thank you. Will you be staying there, Geoff?"
He shakes his head. "Coaches like mine're asked to stay by the wall. City's not too keen on letting outsiders in if they can help it." He whips the reigns, spurring the horses into a trot. "So long, Den."
You wave him off, watching the cart shrink down the road before slipping out of view down a side street. And so ends the longest contact with another human I've had this last year. You sigh dejectedly, before smacking your cheeks to psych yourself up. It's super effective!
As you approach the building Geoff directed you towards, you realize calling it a tavern is a bit deceiving. The three-story structure looks more akin to a hotel than a bar, with heavy wooden doors and paned windows stretched along its front. Besides the door, a golden stallion rears back upon the establishment's emblem. You feel as though this place is derivative of something, but the exact source eludes you.
Stepping inside, the smell of warm broth and bread crashes into you. For a moment you just stand there, enjoying the warmth and sweet scent of a decent meal before you search for its source. The task proves itself simple enough and you soon find yourself standing at a window between the main area and the kitchen. A young woman sits on the other side, reading a book. She quickly notices you and looks up.
"Can I help you?" The innkeep asks.
You order yourself a simple meal and happily hand her the coins she asks for. She disappears for a moment before returning with a bowl of soup and a few rolls. Thanking her, you take them and seat yourself at one of the many open tables nearby. You're almost certain this place is packed in the evenings due to how nice it is, but it's barely mid-afternoon. Still, you appreciate the moment of quiet for what it is. Plus, it gives you an opportunity to study up on some of your research.
You'd feared that the guards at the gate would take it away from you when they grew suspicious at the answers you provided to their interrogation. It's not entirely your fault though, you're certain anyone would be confused to a seemingly absurd question planted amidst everything else. You are a mage, so you could excuse your initial affirmative response. But that question about being tainted didn't really make sense to you, and you weren't entirely sure what to answer even after they'd explained it. Apparently, the Mages who studied in Temple Synagogue could determine the purity of your Soul. You hadn't met a single Mage who could do that, or if they could then they'd kept quiet about it.
The guards had compromised with you, allowing you to enter as long as you got a Soul Screening in the morning. You agreed, on the basis of wanting to be done with the questions and finally get some rest after a long journey. Two weeks of riding in a rickety cart is not as fun as it sounds.
As you nibble on a roll soaked in broth, you pull out the Divine Tome and begin to skim the early pages again. Most of it is tales a majority of the world considers legend, stories of heroes slaying demons with the assistance of holy blessings and artifacts. That sort of content would turn a good amount of self-respecting scholars away, as they could be better spending their time studying the academic literature on spellcraft and achieve quicker results. You, however, find yourself fascinated with the stories. Some are familiar tales you grew up with, such as the one about a king who united his nation by claiming a long-sealed blade before scouring the land for a magical grail. Others seem more historical, going into detail about the particulars of a nation and their rise or fall. What connects them all are the particular types of magic all the narratives share at their core.
From what you've gleaned in these stories, Divine Magic is not something that comes from within. It's more like summoning power from elsewhere, usually an Angel. The stories make it clear that Demonic Magic works in the same way, though rather obviously from a Demon. You have an inkling that there's more to that distinction than technicality, but you haven't completely figured it out yet.
You look out a nearby window. The sun is still an hour or two away from setting behind the pale walls of the city, at which point you'd probably call it evening. You could keep studying the Tome for more knowledge, or pull out some other material to work on. It might also be a good idea to talk to the innkeep about getting a room for the night. You might even get a discount if you mention you're a bard and willing to play entertainment tonight. Or you could do none of that and just relax or explore. Now that you're not confined to a cart on the road you can do so much more with your day!
-:-:-;-:-:-
You've completed Character Creation and upgraded your Magic Stats!
Divine -> Lvl 1 (0/???)
Demonic -> Lvl 1 (0/???)
Harmonic -> Lvl 2 (0/???)
-:-:-;-:-:-
How will you spend your afternoon?
[] Study the Tome
-[] for spells
-[] for hints of what makes Divine and Demonic magics unique
[] Research other materials (1d4 Research Points per hour spent on a subject)
-[] Divine Magic
-[] Demonic Magic
-[] Harmonic Magic
[] Talk to the Innkeep (get a room)
-[] mention you're a Bard
-[] just make small talk, you're too tired to play tonight.
[] Go exploring (choose a cardinal direction)
[] Just relax (skip to evening)
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Prologue - 3. Social Link Up(?)
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
This episode of Lev Tahor shortened and delayed to you by Dark Souls II: Scholar of the Effects of Sado-Masochistic Game Design on the Human Mind. I swear From Software laughs at my suffering, but those unfinished trophies won't let me quit just yet.
[x] Talk to the Innkeep (get a room)
-[x] mention you're a Bard
With a sigh, you close the Tome and reattach it to your belt. You'd already shirked study once today, you could probably afford to do it again. Besides, you had a decent excuse. Sleep and security were just as if not more important needs to fulfill. Plus, you had an ace up your sleeve that ensured you'd get a decent discount. You slung your mandolin over your shoulder and strode towards the counter.
"Is there something else you needed?" The woman asked as you approached, setting her book into her lap. She seemed fairly observant for a bookworm.
"A room, if you have one."
She nods, looking to one side. "We have a few on the second story." She lists off a price just a tad more expensive than you're comfortable with.
No worries, Den. You prepared for this. You think, desperately. "You wouldn't happen to have anything cheaper, would you?" You silently pray for that to be the case.
To your disappointment, her head shook a negative. "Sadly not."
Time to work your magic. You sigh and turn away, your mandolin swinging along your shoulder. "What a shame!" you proclaim, drawing upon your strongest magic: the Power of Bull(crap). "Here I was hoping to stay in such a lovely establishment, but alas it seems I must seek refuge elsewhere."
Persuasion Check (d20): Roll = 6 (+1 per Harmonic Lvl) Total = 8
[NOT A COLOSSAL FAILURE BUT NOT IDEAL EITHER]
"Yes," she replies, returning to her book. "Quite the shame; I was hoping to keep a fellow bookworm like you around for a while longer."
You immediately burst into frantic stuttering. You were not expecting your wiles to falter so quickly, nor for them to be turned on you so thoroughly. Quick, beat a hasty retreat! Live to bluff another day!
"W-well, um, I c-could stay. I-I mean I don't have a lot of money, per se. B-but I'd be willing to, um, try and e-entertain you tonight as payment…."
You are officially a blubbering fool. A blubbering fool talking to a woman you're beginning to notice is quite pretty, observant, willing to talk to you and oh god did you just insinuate what you think you insinuated.
"N-not like that! I meant the tavern, with my mandolin, or something. Out here, on the main floor, in public, not… ungh." Sweet merciful heaven you are only making this worse.
To your relief, the Innkeep begins to chuckle to herself as she peeks at you from behind her novel. "However fun that'd be, I'm sorry to inform that we already have entertainment for the night."
And hearing that, your frantically beating heart begins to sink like a rock. "Oh…"
"Don't worry," She continues. "Tonight is the last night she's contracted to be here. We'll need someone to fill her role for the next week, and if you're willing I'll happily provide you a discount until you're done."
Revitalization! Just like that, your hopes are soaring once again. In spite of your overwhelming embarrassment, you can't help the smile that crosses your face. A guaranteed week of work is a fantastic opportunity, even if you're only getting a discount instead of the usual free lodging. On one hand, unless you're tipped well you'll still be losing money. On the other hand, a pretty lady has personally requested you to play at her venue. Ugh, but is the gain worth the cost? Decisions, decisions!
Accept the Innkeep's proposal?
[] Yes (Lodging at discounted price, evening time frame set to "Play at the Marching Mare" for the week)
[] No, pay in full (Lodging for the week, evening time frame free)
The sun seems like it'll be setting soon, what do you plan to do this evening?
[] Watch tonight's entertainment. Who dares steal your limelight?
[] Talk to the Innkeep further
-[] About what? (Write-in)
[] Go exploring (choose a cardinal direction)
[] Go to sleep (skip to morning/Soul Screening)
-:-:-;-:-:-
[x] Talk to the Innkeep (get a room)
-[x] mention you're a Bard
With a sigh, you close the Tome and reattach it to your belt. You'd already shirked study once today, you could probably afford to do it again. Besides, you had a decent excuse. Sleep and security were just as if not more important needs to fulfill. Plus, you had an ace up your sleeve that ensured you'd get a decent discount. You slung your mandolin over your shoulder and strode towards the counter.
"Is there something else you needed?" The woman asked as you approached, setting her book into her lap. She seemed fairly observant for a bookworm.
"A room, if you have one."
She nods, looking to one side. "We have a few on the second story." She lists off a price just a tad more expensive than you're comfortable with.
No worries, Den. You prepared for this. You think, desperately. "You wouldn't happen to have anything cheaper, would you?" You silently pray for that to be the case.
To your disappointment, her head shook a negative. "Sadly not."
Time to work your magic. You sigh and turn away, your mandolin swinging along your shoulder. "What a shame!" you proclaim, drawing upon your strongest magic: the Power of Bull(crap). "Here I was hoping to stay in such a lovely establishment, but alas it seems I must seek refuge elsewhere."
Persuasion Check (d20): Roll = 6 (+1 per Harmonic Lvl) Total = 8
[NOT A COLOSSAL FAILURE BUT NOT IDEAL EITHER]
"Yes," she replies, returning to her book. "Quite the shame; I was hoping to keep a fellow bookworm like you around for a while longer."
You immediately burst into frantic stuttering. You were not expecting your wiles to falter so quickly, nor for them to be turned on you so thoroughly. Quick, beat a hasty retreat! Live to bluff another day!
"W-well, um, I c-could stay. I-I mean I don't have a lot of money, per se. B-but I'd be willing to, um, try and e-entertain you tonight as payment…."
You are officially a blubbering fool. A blubbering fool talking to a woman you're beginning to notice is quite pretty, observant, willing to talk to you and oh god did you just insinuate what you think you insinuated.
"N-not like that! I meant the tavern, with my mandolin, or something. Out here, on the main floor, in public, not… ungh." Sweet merciful heaven you are only making this worse.
To your relief, the Innkeep begins to chuckle to herself as she peeks at you from behind her novel. "However fun that'd be, I'm sorry to inform that we already have entertainment for the night."
And hearing that, your frantically beating heart begins to sink like a rock. "Oh…"
"Don't worry," She continues. "Tonight is the last night she's contracted to be here. We'll need someone to fill her role for the next week, and if you're willing I'll happily provide you a discount until you're done."
Revitalization! Just like that, your hopes are soaring once again. In spite of your overwhelming embarrassment, you can't help the smile that crosses your face. A guaranteed week of work is a fantastic opportunity, even if you're only getting a discount instead of the usual free lodging. On one hand, unless you're tipped well you'll still be losing money. On the other hand, a pretty lady has personally requested you to play at her venue. Ugh, but is the gain worth the cost? Decisions, decisions!
-:-:-;-:-:-
Accept the Innkeep's proposal?
[] Yes (Lodging at discounted price, evening time frame set to "Play at the Marching Mare" for the week)
[] No, pay in full (Lodging for the week, evening time frame free)
The sun seems like it'll be setting soon, what do you plan to do this evening?
[] Watch tonight's entertainment. Who dares steal your limelight?
[] Talk to the Innkeep further
-[] About what? (Write-in)
[] Go exploring (choose a cardinal direction)
[] Go to sleep (skip to morning/Soul Screening)
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Prologue - 4. A Princess and Her Knight
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
[x] Yes (Lodging at discounted price, evening time frame set to "Play at the Marching Mare" for the week)
[x] Watch tonight's entertainment. Who dares steal your limelight?
You hide away in your corner as the dinner rush begins to trickle in. You're almost glad that you aren't playing tonight because no matter what you tried you were unable to fully calm the blood rushing to your cheeks. Every once in a while you sneak a peek over in Mary's direction, only to find her peeking right back at you with that treacherous smile.
Oh, the innkeep's name is Mary, by the way. It was one of those things she said after you agreed to play to her deal, but were too flustered to properly process. It was jumbled in there with some congratulations on the purchase as well as an exchange of coin. Now that you think about it, she asked for surprisingly little. It might have cost you a bit more than you normally liked to spend, but it was nowhere near the price she initially gave you. You glance her way, wondering why she'd do something like that for a complete strang- oh god she's making eye contact look away before she notices.
On account of the soft chuckling coming from her general direction, you're certain she did just that. So much for keeping your blush to a calm and manageable level. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief when the rush appears in full force and drags her attention away from you. You liked your limelight, but that was just plain awkward.
Speaking of the limelight, you quickly scan the room for anyone who might be tonight's entertainment. Most seem to be the usual crowd for a tavern, if a little wealthier. There's the workers playing card games at their table, a few guards relaxing for the evening, the stereotypical shady crowd in the back, a wealthy gentleman sipping wine with a much younger woman, a small family taking seats near the stage. Now that you're paying attention there seems to be a wider audience than usual for such a place. Are they all here for the girl who's playing tonight?
You spot a man and woman near the back, both about your age. The man has black hair and is in some sort of tunic, while the woman is wearing a plain dress that accents her blonde locks. They're standing there somewhat awkwardly, seemingly looking for a seat before the woman takes off towards the innkeep. The man glances around and, finding all the nearby tables full, begins to walk towards you.
It's at this point you realize that your corner booth is one of the only ones to still have empty seating. The giant pack seated next to you and the manuscripts spread across the table were probably what deterred other customers from intruding, though that doesn't seem to be stopping this man. You quickly begin to pack said objects away.
"Is this seat taken?" he asks, motioning opposite you. You shake your head as he sits down. "I'm David."
"Den," You reply, still cleaning the table. You notice his outstretched hand and hesitate for a moment before grasping it. "Nice to meet you."
He shakes it. He has a strong and calloused grip. He looks around the crowded room. "I assume you're here to see Aurelia perform?"
"Is that the girl who's playing tonight?" You ask. "I only got in town this afternoon and heard about it from the innkeep. Thought I'd see who the fuss was about." You follow David's wandering gaze. "It seems there's a lot of hype for her."
He nods. "With good reason." He seems like he's going to elaborate before pausing mid-breath. Whatever he was going to say is cut off as the sound of a harp softly fills the room
The crowded tavern quiets in less than a moment as the blonde from before, still dressed in that simple dress, stretches her fingers across the heavenly strings. The workers are frozen mid-play, the guards lower their drinks to the table, and even the hunched shoulders of the shady figures in the corner seem to relax. The couple pause with their fingers touching ever so subtly, and the children at the edge of the stage are all stock still, eyes wide as they watch the magic before them.
And what Magic it is. This isn't a mere feeling like your own, but something well beyond anything you've ever witnessed before. From her instrument stretch thin tendrils of magic that spiral and dance through the air, twisting and turning this way and that as they flow with her music. They weave patterns that pull on your heart with a terrible sense of familiarity, but your mind claims you've never seen anything like them.
And yet, your heart tells you these impossible shapes and symbols are the story of a broken Kingdom. That they are the pride that its walls could not be felled, and the horror when they burned instead. They are the desperate cries of help from a despairing people. They are the shattered dreams of a million slaves under a cruel dictator as any chance of escape fades into obscurity.
But they are, too, the unshakeable faith of a child who refuses to give in. They are the illogical assurance that there is still hope to be found. They are the cries of the poor, the weak, and the hopeless made into a rallying cry to hold desperately onto their faith. And it is that hope and faith which shine the strongest, breaking through the despair and filling you with a resolve to do anything and everything to take back the home which you'd lost, which that cruel Warlord had taken from you at any cost. You would climb any mountain, delve any depth, and cross any distance to regain the Kingdom which rightfully belonged to you. For your people, for your heritage, for your mother, and your broth-
Wait a moment.
You pull yourself out of your reverie, drenched in a cold sweat. That, that was nothing like you'd ever experienced. None of that was your own, not a single memory was yours, and yet it felt like you'd just relived your entire life in an instant. You look towards the woman, Aurelia, with awe. This was the true power of Harmonic Magic? To not only share your feelings, but your past, your history, your ambitions, your very soul?
You look across the table to your bro- to David. You can see the myriad emotions on his face, the pride, the wonder, the pain, the regret. At least this was your first time experiencing it, but you can't imagine what it must be like to relive your own life so vividly and publically.
"It was her last night," he says, perhaps catching your glance. "She wanted to leave an impact before we go."
"She did" you assure him, just as the song builds to its last crescendo. As she belts out the final note, the strings of magic glow brightly, filling the tavern with a warm, resolute light before bursting into nothingness. The crowd which had crammed into the building begins to stir as they exit their stupor. There is a moment of awkward quiet.
Aurelia begins to wilt as the silence grows oppressive. She grasps her harp tightly, like a lifeline, before she finally swallows and bows. She steps off the stage and hurriedly approaches your table, face burning with embarrassment.
"Come on, David. Let's go." She says, hurriedly. He pauses, a conflicted look crossing his face. "Come on." She urges, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second.
Finally, he nods and gets up. "Thank you for the seat." He says to you before holding his sister's arm and heading for the door.
It's as the duo are about to reach the door that the silence is broken by a single clap. Your eyes dart to the young woman from before, seated across the older gentleman. Tears are streaming down her face as she claps again. And again. And again.
Like a match to tinder, the room explodes into applause. Some people are shouting and whistling, others are crying uncontrollably, and everyone is visibly moved by young Aurelia's song. You find yourself cheering and clapping so hard your hands burn.
The siblings are frozen in the doorway like deer in the headlights. The shock on their faces is clear as day. It's only with great effort that Aurelia, tears flowing freely down her face, steps back inside and gives a proper bow. The cheering doubles.
You're quite alright with having your spotlight stolen by someone like her.
When the cheering dies down sometime later, the tavern is in full celebration mode. The chatter is lively loud, almost everyone has a smile plastered on their face, and the children are running free without a care in the world.
Your table is just as joyful if a bit subdued. Aurelia and David sit beside each other and across from you. Aurelia takes another drink of what you assume to be her fourth glass of water, still attempting to calm down. "I was certain we were about to be driven out of town."
"For that?" You ask, incredulous. "That was the greatest demonstration of Harmonic Magic I'd ever seen! And the song, the emotion!" You fall back into your seat. "I have no idea how you did it."
The siblings share a look. "Well, she's been practicing since the time she could speak." He informs.
"Mother always loved singing, and I wanted to make her proud." She fiddles with her glass. "It probably helps being the rightful heir of a royal bloodline of the literal Magical Kingdom, too."
That had struck you as odd, how the Zoroaster Kingdom didn't actually have a King or Royalty. You hadn't asked when you were there two weeks ago because, honestly, it hadn't seemed important. But from the hopes in Aurelia's song, it seemed these two were planning to start a civil war.
It's a little selfish, but you're honestly a little glad you left the country in time to avoid that. Who knows what would have happened to you if you'd been caught up in something crazy like that.
David puts a hand on her shoulder. "I think she'd be proud of you." The two smile at each other. You feel you've just caught a minor dose of diabetes.
"I'd love to stay and chat more about your Magic," you say, grabbing your pack. "But I just finished riding from Zoroaster to here, and I'm beat."
Aurelia nods. "I'm pretty exhausted, too." She flops against David somewhat unceremoniously. "I think I'll take a nap right here."
David gives you the most longsuffering look you've ever seen. You get the feeling he's not as excited to have a princess sleeping on him as most people would be. "Go on and sleep, I can handle 'her highness' here."
As wave them both goodnight and head to your room. You pass by the counter on your way upstairs, but curiously find another girl in the window instead of Mary. She probably went to bed, it was pretty loud and wild for a bit there and you doubt she would have been able to focus on her book.
As you enter your room you immediately spot the bed on your left. You dump the pack on the floor and flop onto the mattress, exhausted. You have just enough time to remember you have a Soul Screening tomorrow before the mattress's softness becomes too distracting and sleep overtakes you.
Good news, Prologue's almost over. No IC votes this time since you guys voted "yes" to the screening in the morning. You'll get an update tomorrow that lets you have fun with that (unless this project I've got due tomorrow night delays me, in which case you'll get the chapter Monday night/Tuesday morning), but for this time I'm asking you guys to vote about the entertainment you guys were hired to do.
However fun it would be for me to write seven future updates dedicated purely to you playing music in the Marching Mare, I don't know how fun it'd be for you guys to read. I'll give you some options to choose from, but if you think of a better idea feel free to write it in.
(OOC)How do you want me to handle the "Play at the Marching Mare" updates?
[] Write a short update with a unique song as the focus (may include lore and backstory snippets)
[] Merge with the afternoon votes (you'll get a short paragraph at the end of those updates mentioning anything important. This will progress time faster)
[] Interludes (view the Marching Mare scenes from someone else's view. May contain worldbuilding).
[] Write-in
[x] Watch tonight's entertainment. Who dares steal your limelight?
You hide away in your corner as the dinner rush begins to trickle in. You're almost glad that you aren't playing tonight because no matter what you tried you were unable to fully calm the blood rushing to your cheeks. Every once in a while you sneak a peek over in Mary's direction, only to find her peeking right back at you with that treacherous smile.
Oh, the innkeep's name is Mary, by the way. It was one of those things she said after you agreed to play to her deal, but were too flustered to properly process. It was jumbled in there with some congratulations on the purchase as well as an exchange of coin. Now that you think about it, she asked for surprisingly little. It might have cost you a bit more than you normally liked to spend, but it was nowhere near the price she initially gave you. You glance her way, wondering why she'd do something like that for a complete strang- oh god she's making eye contact look away before she notices.
On account of the soft chuckling coming from her general direction, you're certain she did just that. So much for keeping your blush to a calm and manageable level. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief when the rush appears in full force and drags her attention away from you. You liked your limelight, but that was just plain awkward.
Speaking of the limelight, you quickly scan the room for anyone who might be tonight's entertainment. Most seem to be the usual crowd for a tavern, if a little wealthier. There's the workers playing card games at their table, a few guards relaxing for the evening, the stereotypical shady crowd in the back, a wealthy gentleman sipping wine with a much younger woman, a small family taking seats near the stage. Now that you're paying attention there seems to be a wider audience than usual for such a place. Are they all here for the girl who's playing tonight?
You spot a man and woman near the back, both about your age. The man has black hair and is in some sort of tunic, while the woman is wearing a plain dress that accents her blonde locks. They're standing there somewhat awkwardly, seemingly looking for a seat before the woman takes off towards the innkeep. The man glances around and, finding all the nearby tables full, begins to walk towards you.
It's at this point you realize that your corner booth is one of the only ones to still have empty seating. The giant pack seated next to you and the manuscripts spread across the table were probably what deterred other customers from intruding, though that doesn't seem to be stopping this man. You quickly begin to pack said objects away.
"Is this seat taken?" he asks, motioning opposite you. You shake your head as he sits down. "I'm David."
"Den," You reply, still cleaning the table. You notice his outstretched hand and hesitate for a moment before grasping it. "Nice to meet you."
He shakes it. He has a strong and calloused grip. He looks around the crowded room. "I assume you're here to see Aurelia perform?"
"Is that the girl who's playing tonight?" You ask. "I only got in town this afternoon and heard about it from the innkeep. Thought I'd see who the fuss was about." You follow David's wandering gaze. "It seems there's a lot of hype for her."
He nods. "With good reason." He seems like he's going to elaborate before pausing mid-breath. Whatever he was going to say is cut off as the sound of a harp softly fills the room
The crowded tavern quiets in less than a moment as the blonde from before, still dressed in that simple dress, stretches her fingers across the heavenly strings. The workers are frozen mid-play, the guards lower their drinks to the table, and even the hunched shoulders of the shady figures in the corner seem to relax. The couple pause with their fingers touching ever so subtly, and the children at the edge of the stage are all stock still, eyes wide as they watch the magic before them.
And what Magic it is. This isn't a mere feeling like your own, but something well beyond anything you've ever witnessed before. From her instrument stretch thin tendrils of magic that spiral and dance through the air, twisting and turning this way and that as they flow with her music. They weave patterns that pull on your heart with a terrible sense of familiarity, but your mind claims you've never seen anything like them.
And yet, your heart tells you these impossible shapes and symbols are the story of a broken Kingdom. That they are the pride that its walls could not be felled, and the horror when they burned instead. They are the desperate cries of help from a despairing people. They are the shattered dreams of a million slaves under a cruel dictator as any chance of escape fades into obscurity.
But they are, too, the unshakeable faith of a child who refuses to give in. They are the illogical assurance that there is still hope to be found. They are the cries of the poor, the weak, and the hopeless made into a rallying cry to hold desperately onto their faith. And it is that hope and faith which shine the strongest, breaking through the despair and filling you with a resolve to do anything and everything to take back the home which you'd lost, which that cruel Warlord had taken from you at any cost. You would climb any mountain, delve any depth, and cross any distance to regain the Kingdom which rightfully belonged to you. For your people, for your heritage, for your mother, and your broth-
Wait a moment.
You pull yourself out of your reverie, drenched in a cold sweat. That, that was nothing like you'd ever experienced. None of that was your own, not a single memory was yours, and yet it felt like you'd just relived your entire life in an instant. You look towards the woman, Aurelia, with awe. This was the true power of Harmonic Magic? To not only share your feelings, but your past, your history, your ambitions, your very soul?
You look across the table to your bro- to David. You can see the myriad emotions on his face, the pride, the wonder, the pain, the regret. At least this was your first time experiencing it, but you can't imagine what it must be like to relive your own life so vividly and publically.
"It was her last night," he says, perhaps catching your glance. "She wanted to leave an impact before we go."
"She did" you assure him, just as the song builds to its last crescendo. As she belts out the final note, the strings of magic glow brightly, filling the tavern with a warm, resolute light before bursting into nothingness. The crowd which had crammed into the building begins to stir as they exit their stupor. There is a moment of awkward quiet.
Aurelia begins to wilt as the silence grows oppressive. She grasps her harp tightly, like a lifeline, before she finally swallows and bows. She steps off the stage and hurriedly approaches your table, face burning with embarrassment.
"Come on, David. Let's go." She says, hurriedly. He pauses, a conflicted look crossing his face. "Come on." She urges, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second.
Finally, he nods and gets up. "Thank you for the seat." He says to you before holding his sister's arm and heading for the door.
It's as the duo are about to reach the door that the silence is broken by a single clap. Your eyes dart to the young woman from before, seated across the older gentleman. Tears are streaming down her face as she claps again. And again. And again.
Like a match to tinder, the room explodes into applause. Some people are shouting and whistling, others are crying uncontrollably, and everyone is visibly moved by young Aurelia's song. You find yourself cheering and clapping so hard your hands burn.
The siblings are frozen in the doorway like deer in the headlights. The shock on their faces is clear as day. It's only with great effort that Aurelia, tears flowing freely down her face, steps back inside and gives a proper bow. The cheering doubles.
You're quite alright with having your spotlight stolen by someone like her.
-:-:-;-:-:-
When the cheering dies down sometime later, the tavern is in full celebration mode. The chatter is lively loud, almost everyone has a smile plastered on their face, and the children are running free without a care in the world.
Your table is just as joyful if a bit subdued. Aurelia and David sit beside each other and across from you. Aurelia takes another drink of what you assume to be her fourth glass of water, still attempting to calm down. "I was certain we were about to be driven out of town."
"For that?" You ask, incredulous. "That was the greatest demonstration of Harmonic Magic I'd ever seen! And the song, the emotion!" You fall back into your seat. "I have no idea how you did it."
The siblings share a look. "Well, she's been practicing since the time she could speak." He informs.
"Mother always loved singing, and I wanted to make her proud." She fiddles with her glass. "It probably helps being the rightful heir of a royal bloodline of the literal Magical Kingdom, too."
That had struck you as odd, how the Zoroaster Kingdom didn't actually have a King or Royalty. You hadn't asked when you were there two weeks ago because, honestly, it hadn't seemed important. But from the hopes in Aurelia's song, it seemed these two were planning to start a civil war.
It's a little selfish, but you're honestly a little glad you left the country in time to avoid that. Who knows what would have happened to you if you'd been caught up in something crazy like that.
David puts a hand on her shoulder. "I think she'd be proud of you." The two smile at each other. You feel you've just caught a minor dose of diabetes.
"I'd love to stay and chat more about your Magic," you say, grabbing your pack. "But I just finished riding from Zoroaster to here, and I'm beat."
Aurelia nods. "I'm pretty exhausted, too." She flops against David somewhat unceremoniously. "I think I'll take a nap right here."
David gives you the most longsuffering look you've ever seen. You get the feeling he's not as excited to have a princess sleeping on him as most people would be. "Go on and sleep, I can handle 'her highness' here."
As wave them both goodnight and head to your room. You pass by the counter on your way upstairs, but curiously find another girl in the window instead of Mary. She probably went to bed, it was pretty loud and wild for a bit there and you doubt she would have been able to focus on her book.
As you enter your room you immediately spot the bed on your left. You dump the pack on the floor and flop onto the mattress, exhausted. You have just enough time to remember you have a Soul Screening tomorrow before the mattress's softness becomes too distracting and sleep overtakes you.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Good news, Prologue's almost over. No IC votes this time since you guys voted "yes" to the screening in the morning. You'll get an update tomorrow that lets you have fun with that (unless this project I've got due tomorrow night delays me, in which case you'll get the chapter Monday night/Tuesday morning), but for this time I'm asking you guys to vote about the entertainment you guys were hired to do.
However fun it would be for me to write seven future updates dedicated purely to you playing music in the Marching Mare, I don't know how fun it'd be for you guys to read. I'll give you some options to choose from, but if you think of a better idea feel free to write it in.
-:-:-;-:-:-
(OOC)How do you want me to handle the "Play at the Marching Mare" updates?
[] Write a short update with a unique song as the focus (may include lore and backstory snippets)
[] Merge with the afternoon votes (you'll get a short paragraph at the end of those updates mentioning anything important. This will progress time faster)
[] Interludes (view the Marching Mare scenes from someone else's view. May contain worldbuilding).
[] Write-in
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Prologue - 5. The Soul Screaming
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
[x]Submit to a Soul Screening in the morning
Day 1 of incarceration
Morning
You exit the inn as sunlight starts to glint across the rooftops of Temple City. The streets are still coated in shadow, and your eyes are only somewhat adjusted. In the distant dark, a rickety cart rolls away, driven by two faint figures. You smile, silently wishing the two Zoroasters well before you turn the other way and start walking.
You amble through the shade of the unfamiliar city, taking care to watch your step on the cobbled road. In the cool of the morning, you find only a handful of people milling about. Most seem to be shopkeeps, stepping out of their venue to flip a sign or clean a window before going right back inside. You don't really notice them until they call out a greeting, which you return. You're having some trouble adjusting your eyes due to the glare coming off the Temple Synagogue's shining cap, and it's taking all your focus to keep you on the road.
The way you see it, the Synagogue's central location is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, there's not a street or alley in the city where it can't be seen. Even were it not situated atop a great rock, the spires and golden dome that stretch from the Synagogue's roof tower over everything except the high walls which encompass the sprawling cityscape. Each one shines in the morning sun like a golden beacon, beckoning pilgrims to approach. You couldn't miss your destination if you tried.
On the other hand, you could barely look at the building for fear of being blinded. You cover your eyes as a precaution and count yourself lucky that the road seems to be heading in the right direction.
It's nearly a half-hour later that you're close enough for the reflected sunlight to pass over you. When you can see again, you're able to more fully appreciate the Temple.
The towering structure rests atop a great rock in the center of a small lake. The island, if you could call it that, was about as wide as a small village and completely consumed by the religious center above it. From every cardinal direction extended a stone bridge to the shore. You assumed it was meant to make the place seem more holy, but it only made it seem more isolated.
As you cross one such bridge, you notice that more people seem to be out. Everyday citizens roam along its length, coming or going from their time of prayer. Nuns and monks are filling lamps with oil, while the occasional priest quietly nods as you pass before looking off into the distance, lost in thought. Even this early, the Temple is the heart of the city. And it beats sickly.
You cross the bridge and feel a strange wave pass over you. It's sudden and piercing like water was being poured through you. It lasts only a second before it fades, and you stand there for a moment trying to understand it.
"Does something trouble you, my son?" a voice questions from behind you. You quickly snap from your reverie and turn around.
Before you stands an old man dressed in a plain white tunic. He looks at you with eyes like the ocean, swirling with knowledge and wisdom.
"Are you a priest?" You ask the old man.
He smiles at you. "Of a sort. Is there something I can help you with?"
"I'm here for a Soul Screening."
"...I see. Follow me." He begins his ascent into the Temple Synagogue. You hesitate for a moment, then follow after him.
For a while, the two of you walk in silence. The old man leads you through a series of winding corridors and twisting halls dimly lit by oil lamps, up a handful of flights of stairs and down a dozen more. It is only once you have given up any chance of memorizing your path out that he speaks again.
"Tell me, are you a traveler?"
You nod, then realize that he can't see you. "Yes. I came here to study magic."
The old man hums. "If I may be so bold, why?"
You frown. Wasn't it obvious? "Because Zak is the only nation that has Spiritual Magic. No one, not even Zoroaster knows its secrets. Only mages who study in Temple City are able to use it."
"Yes." He says, stopping in front of a great pair of faded oak doors. "Only we teach the art of Spiritual Magic, as far as we know. Quite a rare Magic, if only one group in the whole world can wield it." He turns to you, his eyes hard. "So tell me, why would you travel all the way from Zoroaster, if not further, to take it? You obviously searched their libraries for it, if you knew it was sorely lacking. What about Spiritual Magic is so important to you that you would seek it out like this?"
You open your mouth to reply, but your words die in your throat. You're unable to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds. His eyes look through you, beyond any excuse you intended to give. You know he'll see right through any lie you tell. So you speak the truth.
"If I don't find the spell I need, I'll never see the people I love again."
The old man hums once again. "And if the spell you seek does not exist? What will you do then?"
"It exists." You know it. You're certain you wouldn't be here if it didn't.
The old man is not convinced. "And what if you're wrong?"
"If I'm wrong," you meet his gaze head-on. "Then I'm already dead to them." You can't help but smirk a little. "Might as well take the chance."
The old man stares at you for a moment longer, searching your eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, as a smile began to cross his own face.
"Beyond this door is a Purification Chamber. When you enter, please remove all of your clothes and step into the water. After that, I shall conduct the Screening." He steps away, motioning to the handle. "It should not take too long, you'll be out before you know it."
You push your palm against the ancient wood, and the thick door swings wide without any more effort. Beyond the doorway are a series of stone steps leading into a pool of inky black water. The room has no light, save that coming from the lamps in the hall behind you
L E A V E T H E L I G H T
You take a hesitant step forward, and then another. On the third step, you hear the solid oak doors close shut behind you. You turn around, only to find nothing there. No wooden door, no old man, just more of the stone stairway, leading off into the void.
You turn back towards the pool, lit in an impossible blue glow. The light comes from nowhere, and yet you can clearly see the reflection of something on the liquid's surface.
You sigh as you begin to take off your clothes. At this point, you're convinced you're in some magical pseudo-realm created for the sake of the Screening. Best to just follow the priest's orders and get this whole thing over with.
In a moment you're standing at the edge of the pool dressed in your birthday suit. A breeze passes and you shiver. If this place is as artificial as you believe it to be, you have to wonder why the designer chose to make it so cold. Though as you take a step into the water, you realize that it's surprisingly warm. Step after step, you move into the pool until you're wading waist deep.
I T I S C O M I N G
You whip your head around. What was that? For a moment, you swore you heard something…
T H E D A R K N E S S C L O S E S A R O U N D Y O U
There! Again, that strange sound echoed across the void. The water shakes, as though something was disturbing it.
I T I S H E R E
You jump to the side as something bursts out of the water. You barely catch a glimpse of it, nothing more than a glance, but the sight of that thing turns your blood to ice. Your instincts scream at you to run, to hide, to cover yourself and cower from this creature. Whatever it is, you cannot let it touch you. Something deep inside you tells you that doing so would do something terrible to you.
F E A R A N D D E S P A I R
The beast writhes in the water, twisting back on itself and propelling like a torpedo towards you. You dive to the side again and feel it pass within a hair's breadth of your back. Your skin feels clammy, your spine freezes up, and you desperately look for a way out of here.
F O R I T S H A L L D E V O U R Y O U
"Get me out of here!" You scream to the priest, to God, to anyone who's willing to listen. "Please!" You twist away as it leaps at you once again, and you fall under the surface of the water for a moment. You close your eyes and suck in a breath just as you find yourself submerged.
H E A R T
You open your eyes.
M I N D
You open your mouth.
B O D Y
You scream.
S O U L
Blood. Blood, everywhere. Under the surface, the light shines far, far below you. Where the floor used to be is now a vast and empty void that extends as far as the eye can see. And the water which you swam in… you realize it was never that. It was blood. The whole time, the pool was filled with warm fresh blood.
T H E R E Y O U A R E
The creature appears before you. A mass of writhing darkness, bending into and out of itself, taking on one shape for a moment before twisting into something with one dimension too many to be comprehensible before collapsing back into a pseudo-Euclidian form.
Y O U A R E M I N E
Suddenly, you feel an intense burning pain against your chest. You scream, agony you'd never experienced before coursing through you like wildfire.
N O !
The creature spasms violently. Tendrils lance out from it, grasping towards you before they begin to melt away into the bloody miasma around you. It thrashes, darkness curling inwards and outwards and shifting and burning and oh god it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop make it stOP MAKE IT STOP OH GOD IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP
M A K E I T S T O P
Your eyes snap open. You try to scream, but rather than your voice what comes out of your throat is a torrent of blood. You choke, you cough, you vomit up the stuff that had filled your lungs. You gasp and wheeze, tears rolling down your face as your lungs and your throat and your chest all burn.
"Son?!" A voice calls. It sounds familiar. Older, almost kind. You've heard it before, but you can't place it.
"Father, what can I do?" asks a second voice. Female. You've never heard this one before. You wonder wh-oh god there's still blood in your lungs. You begin to expel the dreaded liquid from your esophagus violently.
"Bring some water. And a spare change of clothes." The first voice commands.
The second hesitates. "I've never seen a Screening this bad since…" The second half goes fuzzy. Your head is pounding, your ears are ringing, and your chest still burns. You feel your balance go and your mind begin to slip.
"...ow, child! We're losing him!"
"R-right! Upon my bosom, find your rest, and in my soul…"
You pass out before you can hear anymore.
Prologue Completed. Loading Act 1...
Act 1 Loaded. Playing Disc.
The room was stuffy. Too stuffy. That was the first thing you came to focus on as the fuzziness in your mind faded and you awoke. How difficult it was to get a proper breath with how hot your lungs felt. The soft crackling of flames came next as the first bit of grogginess slipped away. You frown. You don't remember having a fireplace in the Marching Mare. Where was that coming from?
In a moment you will never forget, you open your eyes.
Right in front of you is the face of a beautiful young woman, blue hair framing her delicate face. Her head rests softly against your stomach, a worried look across her face. She twitches oddly every now and then, and her hand clasps at something that isn't there. Looking at her, you feel an incredible sense of concern and relief well up inside you. And that… doesn't make any sense to you. Right now, nothing does.
What do you do now? (Pick 2)
[] Focus on the girl
-[] wake her
-[] grab her hand
-[] become her
[] Survey the room
[] Examine your chest
Day 1 of incarceration
Morning
You exit the inn as sunlight starts to glint across the rooftops of Temple City. The streets are still coated in shadow, and your eyes are only somewhat adjusted. In the distant dark, a rickety cart rolls away, driven by two faint figures. You smile, silently wishing the two Zoroasters well before you turn the other way and start walking.
You amble through the shade of the unfamiliar city, taking care to watch your step on the cobbled road. In the cool of the morning, you find only a handful of people milling about. Most seem to be shopkeeps, stepping out of their venue to flip a sign or clean a window before going right back inside. You don't really notice them until they call out a greeting, which you return. You're having some trouble adjusting your eyes due to the glare coming off the Temple Synagogue's shining cap, and it's taking all your focus to keep you on the road.
The way you see it, the Synagogue's central location is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, there's not a street or alley in the city where it can't be seen. Even were it not situated atop a great rock, the spires and golden dome that stretch from the Synagogue's roof tower over everything except the high walls which encompass the sprawling cityscape. Each one shines in the morning sun like a golden beacon, beckoning pilgrims to approach. You couldn't miss your destination if you tried.
On the other hand, you could barely look at the building for fear of being blinded. You cover your eyes as a precaution and count yourself lucky that the road seems to be heading in the right direction.
It's nearly a half-hour later that you're close enough for the reflected sunlight to pass over you. When you can see again, you're able to more fully appreciate the Temple.
The towering structure rests atop a great rock in the center of a small lake. The island, if you could call it that, was about as wide as a small village and completely consumed by the religious center above it. From every cardinal direction extended a stone bridge to the shore. You assumed it was meant to make the place seem more holy, but it only made it seem more isolated.
As you cross one such bridge, you notice that more people seem to be out. Everyday citizens roam along its length, coming or going from their time of prayer. Nuns and monks are filling lamps with oil, while the occasional priest quietly nods as you pass before looking off into the distance, lost in thought. Even this early, the Temple is the heart of the city. And it beats sickly.
You cross the bridge and feel a strange wave pass over you. It's sudden and piercing like water was being poured through you. It lasts only a second before it fades, and you stand there for a moment trying to understand it.
"Does something trouble you, my son?" a voice questions from behind you. You quickly snap from your reverie and turn around.
Before you stands an old man dressed in a plain white tunic. He looks at you with eyes like the ocean, swirling with knowledge and wisdom.
"Are you a priest?" You ask the old man.
He smiles at you. "Of a sort. Is there something I can help you with?"
"I'm here for a Soul Screening."
"...I see. Follow me." He begins his ascent into the Temple Synagogue. You hesitate for a moment, then follow after him.
-:-:-;-:-:-
For a while, the two of you walk in silence. The old man leads you through a series of winding corridors and twisting halls dimly lit by oil lamps, up a handful of flights of stairs and down a dozen more. It is only once you have given up any chance of memorizing your path out that he speaks again.
"Tell me, are you a traveler?"
You nod, then realize that he can't see you. "Yes. I came here to study magic."
The old man hums. "If I may be so bold, why?"
You frown. Wasn't it obvious? "Because Zak is the only nation that has Spiritual Magic. No one, not even Zoroaster knows its secrets. Only mages who study in Temple City are able to use it."
"Yes." He says, stopping in front of a great pair of faded oak doors. "Only we teach the art of Spiritual Magic, as far as we know. Quite a rare Magic, if only one group in the whole world can wield it." He turns to you, his eyes hard. "So tell me, why would you travel all the way from Zoroaster, if not further, to take it? You obviously searched their libraries for it, if you knew it was sorely lacking. What about Spiritual Magic is so important to you that you would seek it out like this?"
You open your mouth to reply, but your words die in your throat. You're unable to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds. His eyes look through you, beyond any excuse you intended to give. You know he'll see right through any lie you tell. So you speak the truth.
"If I don't find the spell I need, I'll never see the people I love again."
The old man hums once again. "And if the spell you seek does not exist? What will you do then?"
"It exists." You know it. You're certain you wouldn't be here if it didn't.
The old man is not convinced. "And what if you're wrong?"
"If I'm wrong," you meet his gaze head-on. "Then I'm already dead to them." You can't help but smirk a little. "Might as well take the chance."
The old man stares at you for a moment longer, searching your eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, as a smile began to cross his own face.
"Beyond this door is a Purification Chamber. When you enter, please remove all of your clothes and step into the water. After that, I shall conduct the Screening." He steps away, motioning to the handle. "It should not take too long, you'll be out before you know it."
You push your palm against the ancient wood, and the thick door swings wide without any more effort. Beyond the doorway are a series of stone steps leading into a pool of inky black water. The room has no light, save that coming from the lamps in the hall behind you
L E A V E T H E L I G H T
You take a hesitant step forward, and then another. On the third step, you hear the solid oak doors close shut behind you. You turn around, only to find nothing there. No wooden door, no old man, just more of the stone stairway, leading off into the void.
You turn back towards the pool, lit in an impossible blue glow. The light comes from nowhere, and yet you can clearly see the reflection of something on the liquid's surface.
You sigh as you begin to take off your clothes. At this point, you're convinced you're in some magical pseudo-realm created for the sake of the Screening. Best to just follow the priest's orders and get this whole thing over with.
In a moment you're standing at the edge of the pool dressed in your birthday suit. A breeze passes and you shiver. If this place is as artificial as you believe it to be, you have to wonder why the designer chose to make it so cold. Though as you take a step into the water, you realize that it's surprisingly warm. Step after step, you move into the pool until you're wading waist deep.
I T I S C O M I N G
You whip your head around. What was that? For a moment, you swore you heard something…
T H E D A R K N E S S C L O S E S A R O U N D Y O U
There! Again, that strange sound echoed across the void. The water shakes, as though something was disturbing it.
I T I S H E R E
You jump to the side as something bursts out of the water. You barely catch a glimpse of it, nothing more than a glance, but the sight of that thing turns your blood to ice. Your instincts scream at you to run, to hide, to cover yourself and cower from this creature. Whatever it is, you cannot let it touch you. Something deep inside you tells you that doing so would do something terrible to you.
F E A R A N D D E S P A I R
The beast writhes in the water, twisting back on itself and propelling like a torpedo towards you. You dive to the side again and feel it pass within a hair's breadth of your back. Your skin feels clammy, your spine freezes up, and you desperately look for a way out of here.
F O R I T S H A L L D E V O U R Y O U
"Get me out of here!" You scream to the priest, to God, to anyone who's willing to listen. "Please!" You twist away as it leaps at you once again, and you fall under the surface of the water for a moment. You close your eyes and suck in a breath just as you find yourself submerged.
H E A R T
You open your eyes.
M I N D
You open your mouth.
B O D Y
You scream.
S O U L
Blood. Blood, everywhere. Under the surface, the light shines far, far below you. Where the floor used to be is now a vast and empty void that extends as far as the eye can see. And the water which you swam in… you realize it was never that. It was blood. The whole time, the pool was filled with warm fresh blood.
T H E R E Y O U A R E
The creature appears before you. A mass of writhing darkness, bending into and out of itself, taking on one shape for a moment before twisting into something with one dimension too many to be comprehensible before collapsing back into a pseudo-Euclidian form.
Y O U A R E M I N E
Suddenly, you feel an intense burning pain against your chest. You scream, agony you'd never experienced before coursing through you like wildfire.
N O !
The creature spasms violently. Tendrils lance out from it, grasping towards you before they begin to melt away into the bloody miasma around you. It thrashes, darkness curling inwards and outwards and shifting and burning and oh god it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop make it stOP MAKE IT STOP OH GOD IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP
M A K E I T S T O P
Your eyes snap open. You try to scream, but rather than your voice what comes out of your throat is a torrent of blood. You choke, you cough, you vomit up the stuff that had filled your lungs. You gasp and wheeze, tears rolling down your face as your lungs and your throat and your chest all burn.
"Son?!" A voice calls. It sounds familiar. Older, almost kind. You've heard it before, but you can't place it.
"Father, what can I do?" asks a second voice. Female. You've never heard this one before. You wonder wh-oh god there's still blood in your lungs. You begin to expel the dreaded liquid from your esophagus violently.
"Bring some water. And a spare change of clothes." The first voice commands.
The second hesitates. "I've never seen a Screening this bad since…" The second half goes fuzzy. Your head is pounding, your ears are ringing, and your chest still burns. You feel your balance go and your mind begin to slip.
"...ow, child! We're losing him!"
"R-right! Upon my bosom, find your rest, and in my soul…"
You pass out before you can hear anymore.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Prologue Completed. Loading Act 1...
Act 1 Loaded. Playing Disc.
-:-:-;-:-:-
The room was stuffy. Too stuffy. That was the first thing you came to focus on as the fuzziness in your mind faded and you awoke. How difficult it was to get a proper breath with how hot your lungs felt. The soft crackling of flames came next as the first bit of grogginess slipped away. You frown. You don't remember having a fireplace in the Marching Mare. Where was that coming from?
In a moment you will never forget, you open your eyes.
Right in front of you is the face of a beautiful young woman, blue hair framing her delicate face. Her head rests softly against your stomach, a worried look across her face. She twitches oddly every now and then, and her hand clasps at something that isn't there. Looking at her, you feel an incredible sense of concern and relief well up inside you. And that… doesn't make any sense to you. Right now, nothing does.
-:-:-;-:-:-
What do you do now? (Pick 2)
[] Focus on the girl
-[] wake her
-[] grab her hand
-[] become her
[] Survey the room
[] Examine your chest
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Act I - 1. Player 2 Has Entered the Game
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
Thank you for voting. You guys took my favorite choice. I am incredibly happy.
*Maniacal laughter echoes from the void*
[x] Examine your chest
[x] Focus on the girl
-[x] become her
Day 1 of incarceration
Midday
Your mind is filled with so many questions that you have to close your eyes just to sort through them. You were supposed to be doing some sort of screening of your soul when you came here. Screenings normally mean that something is being filtered or tested for specific properties. Whatever that had been, it did not meet that definition. Being assaulted by some abyssal creature while naked was… well, you guess it could have been testing courage or resolve, in which case you probably failed. Then again, it was hard to remain courageous when you're face to face with concentrated Lovecraftian horror.
Face to face… that thing almost touched you. You shudder. You didn't know what that thing was supposed to be, but the mere thought of it making contact with you sets you on edge. Some instinct deep inside you continues to warn you of how close you were to catastrophe. You'd only been saved when that burning feeling came.
It was still there, somewhat. It wasn't as intense, but it was still uncomfortable enough to be painful. You look down and see you're in a plain white shirt, and a quick check reveals you've also been outfitted with a snazzy pair of black pants. Someone must have given you a new set of clothes. You glance at the blue-haired nun in your lap. Did she…?
Your cheeks heat up at the thought. B-best not to think about that right now. What were you thinking about before? Oh yeah, the burning. Right. You lift the neck of your shirt and look down at your chest. You blink. You look at it again. You blink a few more times. Your looking becomes an incredulous stare.
Sitting directly over your heart, at the epicenter of the painful heat coursing through your body, the letter "T" rests. A patch of raised and blistered skin, branded in the shape of that single capital letter. It glows a hellish red, as though the iron were still pressed against it.
What the hell? That shouldn't be possible. Skin isn't supposed to glow. It's supposed to blacken and die when it takes too much damage. Then again, writhing masses of abyssal hatred aren't supposed to exist, nor magical realms filled with nothing but blood.
"Just what the hell is going on here?"
At that moment, you feel something shift against your leg.
You are Anna, a Holy Maiden at the Temple Synagogue of Zak, and you are too tired for this shit. You have no idea how long it's been since the horrific event you're dubbing Incident Number Three-Hundred and Twelve. Actually, you have a very clear idea: too long. It's been too long and you want to crawl back into your bed and sleep for the next week.
Yesterday had been especially busy for you, as some apparently really important people had come to visit the Temple and you'd been tasked with scrubbing the floor of every single hallway on the third level. Just you! You never would have finished if it hadn't been for that kind pair of siblings who'd helped you out. They'd gotten lost and tried asking you for directions, but when they saw the job you'd been assigned they offered to help. Apparently, they'd grown up scrubbing floors for money, and it showed. What would have taken you the whole day on your own was completely finished by mid-afternoon. After that, they left for some important business on the south end of town. Something about a concert. You wished you could have gone, even if you had no idea who was singing. You missed the world outside the Temple.
Anyways, you didn't go to the concert. No, you did your normal routine instead of walking in circles around the halls of the third floor looking for empty lamps and randomly scrutinizing furniture. You had no idea what you were actually supposed to be doing, but you saw a lot of the older Maidens do it, so it was probably something that came with the role. After that was dinner, evening prayers, at this point you were in that weird paradox where your body was complaining that you needed sleep but your brain kept pumping adrenaline into you in anticipation for your nightly rituals.
The rituals weren't clergy-ordained per se. The other Maidens or Priests more often told you that you needed to sleep, or the mean ones slapped you when they caught you breaking curfew for the umpteenth time. But curfew was the only time you weren't required to be doing something else. You could actually do the things you wanted to do, instead of pretending you were busy to avoid getting yelled at. Things like reading, singing, or practicing your Magic.
You weren't supposed to do that last one, but you couldn't help it. Magic was so, well, magical. It was beautiful and exciting when the rest of your life was pretentious and boring.
Last night you'd been so focused on making a breakthrough that you were out until the sun rose and nearly missed your morning prayers. You'd panicked and run back in, only to find Father Absalom needed you to help him with the Soul Screening of a new scholar.
"It should be quick," he said. "A kind heart like his won't have an issue," he claimed. "He's young and devoted to his goals, there's almost no chance of him having a Taint," he insisted. You knew better than anyone how false that last one could be. And yet you agreed anyway.
And then his Taint nearly killed him, and Father made you cast those spells on him. Spells that felt odd as you cast them; like they weren't supposed to be used that way. You'll probably have to ask him later about it.
And now, you were here, sitting in a chair beside the poor man, attempting to catch up on your missed sleep by using his legs as a pillow. The blanket covering his legs shifts a little, and you can tell he's come to. You keep your eyes closed, though, because you're still tired. It's only when he speaks that you finally open them.
The man before you looks roughly your age, with a mess of brown hair seated on his head. He's grabbing the collar of the shirt you put him in, looking with very confused brown eyes at his own chest. And now they're looking at you. You must have moved as you examined him. Looks like you've been caught peeking.
Oops?
"Hey," you say, still resting on his legs.
He stares at you for a moment as a little red begins to fill his cheeks. "H-hey," he says back.
"How're you feeling?" A hint of concern seeps into your voice. You're not exactly certain what effect your spells will have on him, especially since a good number of them weren't exactly being used the normal way. You really hope you didn't mess him up somehow.
"Good, mostly," his hand rubs at his chest. "My chest is branded and it feels like its smoldering, but I'm also not being chased by an eldritch horror while swimming in a pool of my own blood anymore. I think that's an improvement."
You nod. "That'd be the Seal that Father Absalom gave you. It looked like your Taint was going nuts, so he did his best to stop it." You frown. "And then I had to perform a bunch of spells on you because it nearly killed you anyways."
He blinks and his blush returns ever the stronger. "Oh. Um, thanks." He blinks again. He does that a lot. "Isn't it awkward to talk like that?"
You give him your best blank stare. "Talk like what?"
"Sideways."
"Hmmm, not really."
"Oh."
"Yep."
There's a bit of a pause. You continue to appreciate the surprisingly soft legs of this random stranger who gave you such a headache.
"Can I have my legs back?"
"I saved you from the brink of death, the least you can do is let me use them as a pillow for a few more minutes."
"...Fair enough."
You close your eyes again and try to enjoy this moment as much as possible. Who knows when you'll be able to sneak in a few extra minutes of sleep again? You have to do everything in your power to keep hold of these precious seconds of rest!
"Can I ask you a question?" He asks, hesitantly.
You shrug, eyes still closed. "Shoot."
"Who are you?"
"Anna, one of the Holy Maidens who maintain this place. It's my job to make sure it always looks nice for everyone coming through."
He hums. "That sounds like a pretty cool job."
"It's exhausting. Hence," You motion to yourself and his legs. Another hum. "How about you? What's your story?"
There's a moment of silence that goes on after that. It stretches out just long enough for you to consider opening an eye before he answers. "My name's Den. I'm a bard and I came here trying to learn more about Spiritual Magic."
"Wait, you're a bard?" You ask, anticipation rising.
He shifts nervously. "Well, yeah. Kinda. It's something I've been doing for the past year to make ends meet."
You lift your head from his lap. This knowledge is worth the sacrifice of your headrest. Your eyes go wide and you lean in as close as you can. "Could you play me something?"
"Um," you can see his resolve breaking. Your eyes, your enthusiasm, the almost non-existent distance from your face to his all seem to be working to wear him down. He attempts to back away, but he runs into the wall. There is no escape for him, you've got him cornered. "Maybe? Do you have my stuff?"
You nod. It's all on the table behind you: his clothes, his book, his weird necklace, and the oddly shaped bundle with a strap attached. Everything that he'd left in the Purification Chamber before his Screening.
"Can you get me my mandolin? It should be wrapped in a blanket to keep the strings from being affected by the cold weather."
You hop away from Den and hear him breathe a sigh of relief. At the table, you pick up the weird bundle. Pulling at the cloth does, in fact, reveal an instrument underneath. Who would have guessed?
"Thank you," he says, picking up the worn neck of the mandolin. For a moment he simply stares at it, lost in thought. It's only when you helpfully cough to remind him you're here that he shakes from his reverie. "So, did you have any requests?"
Oh, you didn't think this far ahead, did you? Well, that's okay, you're sure you can think of something!
Anna has joined your party.
I love Anna. She's so fun to write.
But yeah, Anna's finally here and as an alternate PC that you can switch to (almost) anytime. Can't say any more without spoilerizing things, but I hope you like her character.
What song should Den play?
[] Something sweet?
[] Something somber?
[] Something from his home?
[] Something original?
[] Something else? (Write-in mood)
Do you want to keep Anna as your party leader?
[] Yes (keep playing as Anna)
[] No (go back to playing as Den)
*Maniacal laughter echoes from the void*
-:-:-;-:-:-
[x] Examine your chest
[x] Focus on the girl
-[x] become her
Day 1 of incarceration
Midday
Your mind is filled with so many questions that you have to close your eyes just to sort through them. You were supposed to be doing some sort of screening of your soul when you came here. Screenings normally mean that something is being filtered or tested for specific properties. Whatever that had been, it did not meet that definition. Being assaulted by some abyssal creature while naked was… well, you guess it could have been testing courage or resolve, in which case you probably failed. Then again, it was hard to remain courageous when you're face to face with concentrated Lovecraftian horror.
Face to face… that thing almost touched you. You shudder. You didn't know what that thing was supposed to be, but the mere thought of it making contact with you sets you on edge. Some instinct deep inside you continues to warn you of how close you were to catastrophe. You'd only been saved when that burning feeling came.
It was still there, somewhat. It wasn't as intense, but it was still uncomfortable enough to be painful. You look down and see you're in a plain white shirt, and a quick check reveals you've also been outfitted with a snazzy pair of black pants. Someone must have given you a new set of clothes. You glance at the blue-haired nun in your lap. Did she…?
Your cheeks heat up at the thought. B-best not to think about that right now. What were you thinking about before? Oh yeah, the burning. Right. You lift the neck of your shirt and look down at your chest. You blink. You look at it again. You blink a few more times. Your looking becomes an incredulous stare.
Sitting directly over your heart, at the epicenter of the painful heat coursing through your body, the letter "T" rests. A patch of raised and blistered skin, branded in the shape of that single capital letter. It glows a hellish red, as though the iron were still pressed against it.
What the hell? That shouldn't be possible. Skin isn't supposed to glow. It's supposed to blacken and die when it takes too much damage. Then again, writhing masses of abyssal hatred aren't supposed to exist, nor magical realms filled with nothing but blood.
"Just what the hell is going on here?"
At that moment, you feel something shift against your leg.
-:-:-;-:-:-
You are Anna, a Holy Maiden at the Temple Synagogue of Zak, and you are too tired for this shit. You have no idea how long it's been since the horrific event you're dubbing Incident Number Three-Hundred and Twelve. Actually, you have a very clear idea: too long. It's been too long and you want to crawl back into your bed and sleep for the next week.
Yesterday had been especially busy for you, as some apparently really important people had come to visit the Temple and you'd been tasked with scrubbing the floor of every single hallway on the third level. Just you! You never would have finished if it hadn't been for that kind pair of siblings who'd helped you out. They'd gotten lost and tried asking you for directions, but when they saw the job you'd been assigned they offered to help. Apparently, they'd grown up scrubbing floors for money, and it showed. What would have taken you the whole day on your own was completely finished by mid-afternoon. After that, they left for some important business on the south end of town. Something about a concert. You wished you could have gone, even if you had no idea who was singing. You missed the world outside the Temple.
Anyways, you didn't go to the concert. No, you did your normal routine instead of walking in circles around the halls of the third floor looking for empty lamps and randomly scrutinizing furniture. You had no idea what you were actually supposed to be doing, but you saw a lot of the older Maidens do it, so it was probably something that came with the role. After that was dinner, evening prayers, at this point you were in that weird paradox where your body was complaining that you needed sleep but your brain kept pumping adrenaline into you in anticipation for your nightly rituals.
The rituals weren't clergy-ordained per se. The other Maidens or Priests more often told you that you needed to sleep, or the mean ones slapped you when they caught you breaking curfew for the umpteenth time. But curfew was the only time you weren't required to be doing something else. You could actually do the things you wanted to do, instead of pretending you were busy to avoid getting yelled at. Things like reading, singing, or practicing your Magic.
You weren't supposed to do that last one, but you couldn't help it. Magic was so, well, magical. It was beautiful and exciting when the rest of your life was pretentious and boring.
Last night you'd been so focused on making a breakthrough that you were out until the sun rose and nearly missed your morning prayers. You'd panicked and run back in, only to find Father Absalom needed you to help him with the Soul Screening of a new scholar.
"It should be quick," he said. "A kind heart like his won't have an issue," he claimed. "He's young and devoted to his goals, there's almost no chance of him having a Taint," he insisted. You knew better than anyone how false that last one could be. And yet you agreed anyway.
And then his Taint nearly killed him, and Father made you cast those spells on him. Spells that felt odd as you cast them; like they weren't supposed to be used that way. You'll probably have to ask him later about it.
And now, you were here, sitting in a chair beside the poor man, attempting to catch up on your missed sleep by using his legs as a pillow. The blanket covering his legs shifts a little, and you can tell he's come to. You keep your eyes closed, though, because you're still tired. It's only when he speaks that you finally open them.
The man before you looks roughly your age, with a mess of brown hair seated on his head. He's grabbing the collar of the shirt you put him in, looking with very confused brown eyes at his own chest. And now they're looking at you. You must have moved as you examined him. Looks like you've been caught peeking.
Oops?
"Hey," you say, still resting on his legs.
He stares at you for a moment as a little red begins to fill his cheeks. "H-hey," he says back.
"How're you feeling?" A hint of concern seeps into your voice. You're not exactly certain what effect your spells will have on him, especially since a good number of them weren't exactly being used the normal way. You really hope you didn't mess him up somehow.
"Good, mostly," his hand rubs at his chest. "My chest is branded and it feels like its smoldering, but I'm also not being chased by an eldritch horror while swimming in a pool of my own blood anymore. I think that's an improvement."
You nod. "That'd be the Seal that Father Absalom gave you. It looked like your Taint was going nuts, so he did his best to stop it." You frown. "And then I had to perform a bunch of spells on you because it nearly killed you anyways."
He blinks and his blush returns ever the stronger. "Oh. Um, thanks." He blinks again. He does that a lot. "Isn't it awkward to talk like that?"
You give him your best blank stare. "Talk like what?"
"Sideways."
"Hmmm, not really."
"Oh."
"Yep."
There's a bit of a pause. You continue to appreciate the surprisingly soft legs of this random stranger who gave you such a headache.
"Can I have my legs back?"
"I saved you from the brink of death, the least you can do is let me use them as a pillow for a few more minutes."
"...Fair enough."
You close your eyes again and try to enjoy this moment as much as possible. Who knows when you'll be able to sneak in a few extra minutes of sleep again? You have to do everything in your power to keep hold of these precious seconds of rest!
"Can I ask you a question?" He asks, hesitantly.
You shrug, eyes still closed. "Shoot."
"Who are you?"
"Anna, one of the Holy Maidens who maintain this place. It's my job to make sure it always looks nice for everyone coming through."
He hums. "That sounds like a pretty cool job."
"It's exhausting. Hence," You motion to yourself and his legs. Another hum. "How about you? What's your story?"
There's a moment of silence that goes on after that. It stretches out just long enough for you to consider opening an eye before he answers. "My name's Den. I'm a bard and I came here trying to learn more about Spiritual Magic."
"Wait, you're a bard?" You ask, anticipation rising.
He shifts nervously. "Well, yeah. Kinda. It's something I've been doing for the past year to make ends meet."
You lift your head from his lap. This knowledge is worth the sacrifice of your headrest. Your eyes go wide and you lean in as close as you can. "Could you play me something?"
"Um," you can see his resolve breaking. Your eyes, your enthusiasm, the almost non-existent distance from your face to his all seem to be working to wear him down. He attempts to back away, but he runs into the wall. There is no escape for him, you've got him cornered. "Maybe? Do you have my stuff?"
You nod. It's all on the table behind you: his clothes, his book, his weird necklace, and the oddly shaped bundle with a strap attached. Everything that he'd left in the Purification Chamber before his Screening.
"Can you get me my mandolin? It should be wrapped in a blanket to keep the strings from being affected by the cold weather."
You hop away from Den and hear him breathe a sigh of relief. At the table, you pick up the weird bundle. Pulling at the cloth does, in fact, reveal an instrument underneath. Who would have guessed?
"Thank you," he says, picking up the worn neck of the mandolin. For a moment he simply stares at it, lost in thought. It's only when you helpfully cough to remind him you're here that he shakes from his reverie. "So, did you have any requests?"
Oh, you didn't think this far ahead, did you? Well, that's okay, you're sure you can think of something!
-:-:-;-:-:-
Anna has joined your party.
I love Anna. She's so fun to write.
But yeah, Anna's finally here and as an alternate PC that you can switch to (almost) anytime. Can't say any more without spoilerizing things, but I hope you like her character.
-:-:-;-:-:-
What song should Den play?
[] Something sweet?
[] Something somber?
[] Something from his home?
[] Something original?
[] Something else? (Write-in mood)
Do you want to keep Anna as your party leader?
[] Yes (keep playing as Anna)
[] No (go back to playing as Den)
Last edited:
Act I - 2. The Same Kind of People
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
Watched the first episode of "The Man in the High Castle" yesterday. Apparently, Philip K. Dick and I share similar ideas when it comes to world design. I just shunted a lot of it through a fantasy filter while he invented his own genre.
[x] Play something from Den's home
[x] Continue as Anna
Day 1 / Day 3712
Midday
You pause for a moment, deliberating over what kind of song you'd like to hear. You hadn't heard any music besides hymns since - well, not since you'd made the Temple your home. There were always other things to be doing, like cleaning, spending time in prayer, scrubbing the floors, studying with the priests, or washing the windows. You're basically a janitor here and there's always something that people want you to clean up for them. Everyone else was just as busy, so nobody except the Choir really knew how to play any instruments, and they spent all their time practicing hymns you'd heard seven thousand times before.
You want a break from those repetitive notes and melodies. Nothing fancy, just something... different. Unique.
"You're a traveler, right?" You ask curiously.
Den nods as he inspects his instrument, testing and tuning each string. "I've been to Zoroaster, the Nomad Ruins, a few other places too."
"How long have you been traveling?"
"About a year." He fiddles with a peg, making the string modulate in tone. "You want to hear a song I learned on the road?"
You consider the offer for a moment before you shake your head. "What about your home? Where do you come from?"
He pauses. It's only a moment, but you hear the hesitation between the otherwise rhythmic plucking of the string. His brown eyes drift away from you, refusing to meet yours. His brows scrunch together and his lips become a thin line across his face. He looks like a spring: wound up and tense. You feel your stomach drop.
"On second thought, I think a song from your travels would be just as pleasant."
He sighs and closes his eyes. His shoulders droop and he picks the lowest string a few times.
"Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Every morning you greet me.
Small and white, clean and bright,
You look happy to meet me."
You close your mouth and listen in silence as he sings. His fingers move across the strings without grace, and yet he makes no mistakes. They move like he's played the song a million times, but none of them recently. And yet the sounds the worn instrument is like nothing you've ever heard. Not even the most accomplished in the Choir can play something that moves you like this. Every strum is like a wave of longing and nostalgia lapping against the shores of your heart. You're certain you've never heard the song before, but when he plays it sounds so familiar. It's like you've heard it ever since you were a little girl. You almost can't help yourself join in as he sings the simple refrain once again.
Your voice and his mix as you let the song fill your heart. The lyrics, though simple, are wonderfully beautiful. As they cross your lips, the words feel almost magical to you. There is something special about this song and the way Den plays it. You can't put your finger on why, but you know it's there.
Den finally opens his eyes and notices your voice matching his. He stumbles a little bit, but you just smile at him as the song winds down.
"Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow,
Bloom and grow forever.
Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Bless my homeland forever."
The final notes of the melody fade and the two of you are left in silence.
"Hafenport," He says. "I was born there, raised there, and... well, I could have spent my whole life there if things had gone differently."
"Do you miss it?"
A pause. "Sometimes." You hear a string tense when Den changes his grip. "But it's a long ways away now."
He wraps his instrument in the cloth and hands it to you. You put it back with everything else of his. "Den," you start. "Why did you come to Zak?"
"I told you, didn't I? I'm here to study Spiritual Magic."
Your face must have taken on a harsh look because he suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Why?" You try to ask it nicely, but it comes out a little grated. And now he looks especially guilty. Damn it, you didn't want him to feel bad, you just wanted to confirm a suspicion!
"I want to go home." He finally says. "Hafenport is further away than any charted map goes. I've studied in Zoroaster and the Nomad Ruins for any spells that could do the job, but nothing's worked. Spiritual Magic is my last hope of making it back."
Your gut twists at that. His last hope? That… that just wasn't fair. "Den, there's something I need to tell you. Something incredibly important."
He looks at you, confused, and then dreadful. "Don't tell me, I can't use Spiritual Magic, can I?"
"Oh, no. You'll definitely be able to use it. If you have a Taint, you should be able to use it." You wring your hands together. You begin to wonder if an inability to cast would have been better than the truth. "It's not about you, per se. It's about Temple City, and by extension, Zak."
He still looks confused. "Um, okay?"
"It's, well, god how do I say this-" You sigh. "Zak has certain… rules, considering those who are Tainted."
He nods very slowly. "Okay."
"Rules like you need special approval to study magic, or that you have to get your Seal renewed every so often. Stuff that helps ensure your Taint doesn't go out of control."
His nod is a little more sure this time. "I guess that makes sense, I had a really bad feeling earlier that something bad would happen if I let it get to me. This is stuff to prevent that, right?"
You rock a hand back and forth in the air. "Mostly. There are other rules too. Like you can't be involved in anything that feeds a Taint, or leave the city, or interact too closely with any Clean citizens."
"Sorry, what were those last ones? You started mumbling."
"You can't have friends or escape this hellhole."
"I still didn't catch that."
"You can't leave." You say, loudly. Den recoils a bit. "Tainted can't leave Temple City, and they have to reveal themselves as Tainted when they meet someone. So that it doesn't spread to anyone else."
You hate that most of all. You hate how limited Tainted are. You hate how someone can have no choice in the matter and suddenly become a nonperson. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it you hate it you hate it you hate it hate it hate it hate it you fucking hate it hate it ha-
"If Tainted can't speak to Clean people, then how is it you and I are allowed to talk?" Den looks at you oddly.
…
Damn it, you're going to have to show him, aren't you?
…
A tired sigh escapes your lips. So much for using this time to rest. You reach for the latch connecting your robe together in the front and pull it. The material loosens, and with a shake, it falls to the floor. You do your best to ignore Den's stuttering as you unbutton the top of your tunic. When you think you've gone far enough, you pull the collar to the side. Den immediately and wisely shuts up.
On the top of your left breast, almost in the small valley between the two, is a blistering letter "T" glowing a hellish crimson. Despite the slight uncomfortable feeling you get showing off this much skin to a relative stranger, you don't cover up just yet. His eyes are still glued to that scarlet letter.
"You and I are the same kind of people, Den." And now he's looking you in the eyes, searching for something there.
You turn away before he finds anything.
You button your tunic up and relatch your robe. There, nobody will ever know that you basically just flashed a stranger in a church. God, you are glad that none of the other Maidens are here to berate you right now.
"If I may ask," The man begins, having regained his courage. "How does someone get a Taint?"
You get out of your chair. "I think that's enough questions for today, Den. I need to let Father Absalom know you're awake."
"Oh," Den looks guilty. That's probably your fault, he's smart enough to see he's hit a sore subject. "Goodbye, Anna."
You try to smile at him, but you know it probably looks as forced as it feels. "Goodbye, Den. Maybe we'll get to see each other again soon." That said, you leave the room.
You feel like shit. That was not how you intended it to go at all. You just wanted to hear him play you a song, but that turned out to be a can of snakes for the both of you. You feel pretty bad for using such a lame excuse to leave, too. You could have stayed a bit longer if you wanted.
But no, you really do need to let the Father know. He'll be worried about Den's condition, the bleeding heart. And now that you think about it, you're overdue for a Purification, too. You were supposed to get one this morning but, well, this morning happened. There's also the work you need to finish before dinnertime. You're pretty sure you're on library duty today, the most boring of your weekly assignments. Scrubbing floors is more fun than dusting, organizing, and staring at those rows of incomprehensible books. Well, you'd best decide what to do soon, you can't stand outside Den's door too long or he'll get wind of your own guilt.
Where should Anna go now?
[] Talk to Father Absalom, let him know how Den's holding up.
[] Take a Purification Bath. You feel a little dirty after all that just happened.
[] Head to the Library. Better get to work before someone yells at you again.
[] Lunch. "The body is weak, but especially so when the stomach is empty," or something.
*Edited to remove lines that snuck back in from the first draft and fix the gosh darn formatting that undid itself
-:-:-;-:-:-
[x] Play something from Den's home
[x] Continue as Anna
Day 1 / Day 3712
Midday
You pause for a moment, deliberating over what kind of song you'd like to hear. You hadn't heard any music besides hymns since - well, not since you'd made the Temple your home. There were always other things to be doing, like cleaning, spending time in prayer, scrubbing the floors, studying with the priests, or washing the windows. You're basically a janitor here and there's always something that people want you to clean up for them. Everyone else was just as busy, so nobody except the Choir really knew how to play any instruments, and they spent all their time practicing hymns you'd heard seven thousand times before.
You want a break from those repetitive notes and melodies. Nothing fancy, just something... different. Unique.
"You're a traveler, right?" You ask curiously.
Den nods as he inspects his instrument, testing and tuning each string. "I've been to Zoroaster, the Nomad Ruins, a few other places too."
"How long have you been traveling?"
"About a year." He fiddles with a peg, making the string modulate in tone. "You want to hear a song I learned on the road?"
You consider the offer for a moment before you shake your head. "What about your home? Where do you come from?"
He pauses. It's only a moment, but you hear the hesitation between the otherwise rhythmic plucking of the string. His brown eyes drift away from you, refusing to meet yours. His brows scrunch together and his lips become a thin line across his face. He looks like a spring: wound up and tense. You feel your stomach drop.
"On second thought, I think a song from your travels would be just as pleasant."
He sighs and closes his eyes. His shoulders droop and he picks the lowest string a few times.
"Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Every morning you greet me.
Small and white, clean and bright,
You look happy to meet me."
You close your mouth and listen in silence as he sings. His fingers move across the strings without grace, and yet he makes no mistakes. They move like he's played the song a million times, but none of them recently. And yet the sounds the worn instrument is like nothing you've ever heard. Not even the most accomplished in the Choir can play something that moves you like this. Every strum is like a wave of longing and nostalgia lapping against the shores of your heart. You're certain you've never heard the song before, but when he plays it sounds so familiar. It's like you've heard it ever since you were a little girl. You almost can't help yourself join in as he sings the simple refrain once again.
Your voice and his mix as you let the song fill your heart. The lyrics, though simple, are wonderfully beautiful. As they cross your lips, the words feel almost magical to you. There is something special about this song and the way Den plays it. You can't put your finger on why, but you know it's there.
Den finally opens his eyes and notices your voice matching his. He stumbles a little bit, but you just smile at him as the song winds down.
"Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow,
Bloom and grow forever.
Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Bless my homeland forever."
The final notes of the melody fade and the two of you are left in silence.
"Hafenport," He says. "I was born there, raised there, and... well, I could have spent my whole life there if things had gone differently."
"Do you miss it?"
A pause. "Sometimes." You hear a string tense when Den changes his grip. "But it's a long ways away now."
He wraps his instrument in the cloth and hands it to you. You put it back with everything else of his. "Den," you start. "Why did you come to Zak?"
"I told you, didn't I? I'm here to study Spiritual Magic."
Your face must have taken on a harsh look because he suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Why?" You try to ask it nicely, but it comes out a little grated. And now he looks especially guilty. Damn it, you didn't want him to feel bad, you just wanted to confirm a suspicion!
"I want to go home." He finally says. "Hafenport is further away than any charted map goes. I've studied in Zoroaster and the Nomad Ruins for any spells that could do the job, but nothing's worked. Spiritual Magic is my last hope of making it back."
Your gut twists at that. His last hope? That… that just wasn't fair. "Den, there's something I need to tell you. Something incredibly important."
He looks at you, confused, and then dreadful. "Don't tell me, I can't use Spiritual Magic, can I?"
"Oh, no. You'll definitely be able to use it. If you have a Taint, you should be able to use it." You wring your hands together. You begin to wonder if an inability to cast would have been better than the truth. "It's not about you, per se. It's about Temple City, and by extension, Zak."
He still looks confused. "Um, okay?"
"It's, well, god how do I say this-" You sigh. "Zak has certain… rules, considering those who are Tainted."
He nods very slowly. "Okay."
"Rules like you need special approval to study magic, or that you have to get your Seal renewed every so often. Stuff that helps ensure your Taint doesn't go out of control."
His nod is a little more sure this time. "I guess that makes sense, I had a really bad feeling earlier that something bad would happen if I let it get to me. This is stuff to prevent that, right?"
You rock a hand back and forth in the air. "Mostly. There are other rules too. Like you can't be involved in anything that feeds a Taint, or leave the city, or interact too closely with any Clean citizens."
"Sorry, what were those last ones? You started mumbling."
"You can't have friends or escape this hellhole."
"I still didn't catch that."
"You can't leave." You say, loudly. Den recoils a bit. "Tainted can't leave Temple City, and they have to reveal themselves as Tainted when they meet someone. So that it doesn't spread to anyone else."
You hate that most of all. You hate how limited Tainted are. You hate how someone can have no choice in the matter and suddenly become a nonperson. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it you hate it you hate it you hate it hate it hate it hate it you fucking hate it hate it ha-
"If Tainted can't speak to Clean people, then how is it you and I are allowed to talk?" Den looks at you oddly.
…
Damn it, you're going to have to show him, aren't you?
…
A tired sigh escapes your lips. So much for using this time to rest. You reach for the latch connecting your robe together in the front and pull it. The material loosens, and with a shake, it falls to the floor. You do your best to ignore Den's stuttering as you unbutton the top of your tunic. When you think you've gone far enough, you pull the collar to the side. Den immediately and wisely shuts up.
On the top of your left breast, almost in the small valley between the two, is a blistering letter "T" glowing a hellish crimson. Despite the slight uncomfortable feeling you get showing off this much skin to a relative stranger, you don't cover up just yet. His eyes are still glued to that scarlet letter.
"You and I are the same kind of people, Den." And now he's looking you in the eyes, searching for something there.
You turn away before he finds anything.
You button your tunic up and relatch your robe. There, nobody will ever know that you basically just flashed a stranger in a church. God, you are glad that none of the other Maidens are here to berate you right now.
"If I may ask," The man begins, having regained his courage. "How does someone get a Taint?"
You get out of your chair. "I think that's enough questions for today, Den. I need to let Father Absalom know you're awake."
"Oh," Den looks guilty. That's probably your fault, he's smart enough to see he's hit a sore subject. "Goodbye, Anna."
You try to smile at him, but you know it probably looks as forced as it feels. "Goodbye, Den. Maybe we'll get to see each other again soon." That said, you leave the room.
You feel like shit. That was not how you intended it to go at all. You just wanted to hear him play you a song, but that turned out to be a can of snakes for the both of you. You feel pretty bad for using such a lame excuse to leave, too. You could have stayed a bit longer if you wanted.
But no, you really do need to let the Father know. He'll be worried about Den's condition, the bleeding heart. And now that you think about it, you're overdue for a Purification, too. You were supposed to get one this morning but, well, this morning happened. There's also the work you need to finish before dinnertime. You're pretty sure you're on library duty today, the most boring of your weekly assignments. Scrubbing floors is more fun than dusting, organizing, and staring at those rows of incomprehensible books. Well, you'd best decide what to do soon, you can't stand outside Den's door too long or he'll get wind of your own guilt.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Where should Anna go now?
[] Talk to Father Absalom, let him know how Den's holding up.
[] Take a Purification Bath. You feel a little dirty after all that just happened.
[] Head to the Library. Better get to work before someone yells at you again.
[] Lunch. "The body is weak, but especially so when the stomach is empty," or something.
*Edited to remove lines that snuck back in from the first draft and fix the gosh darn formatting that undid itself
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Act I - 3. Inner Demons and Outer Angels
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
New life goal: finish writing chapters before 2 AM so that I can have my normal sleep schedule back. I love writing this story, but I feel as though my current sleep schedule is potentially unhealthy.
[x]Purification! Purification! Purification!
Day 1 / Day 3712
Midday
You turn down the hall and start walking towards the nearest Purification Chamber. You've been awake for almost 30 hours now, not including your short rest with the man in the room behind you. You feel a little clean-up is in order. Moreso when your mind inevitably drifts back to the conversation you had with him. Or rather, where it had been going.
You shiver. You can feel the thoughts on the edge of your mind. Like the flickering flame which spawned them, they lap against the wall you've built to close them off. They call to you to tear down the wall, to let them out, to look at them. Every tongue of memory that whips past your defense unsettles you. Sometimes it's the faintest whisper of a familiar voice, so quiet it's unintelligible. At times it fills you with comfort and others with terror, and you have no idea why. Other times it's a flash of color, like the green of a silk dress, an orange crack in a brown sky, the white cloth over sterling silver.
You're certain that not all of the Tainted became so in the same way as you. They could remember it without fear or anxiety. They could see it as a clear moment in their history. You envied them. For ten years you've only seen flashes from the other side of the wall, and those are enough to instill a healthy fear of the knowledge beyond.
"Why are you disturbed, my soul?
I have one strong to protect me,
In his arms, I rest, and my mind is eased."
You feel your fraying nerves smooth over. The building anxiety begins to dissipate, and you release a sigh of relief. You don't like dealing with it like this, but it's all you can do for now. As the artificial calm suffuses your mind, something like music brushes against its edge. It flows through the cluttered landscape of your mind until it finds the barrier between the calm and the flame, pushing into it until it fades inside. The flames seem to die down a little bit, and the artificial calm feels a little more genuine.
Weird, that doesn't usually happen. Den's song must still be having some effect on you. You feel a little happier at the thought. For some reason.
You arrive at Purification Chamber Chet with a skip in your step. You feel good. You feel really good. The iron doors of this particular chamber slide back with ease and your mood is still pretty positive. The door vanishes behind you, as it always does, and you're still skipping down the steps like you're going to the pool. You unlatch your robe and fold it away nicely along with your headpiece. You take off your tunic and brush a finger against the blistered skin over your heart. You feel the icy cold lance through you once again, but it's nowhere near as bad as usual. You're just too happy for it to really bother you. The scar on your leg doesn't act up either when the fabric of your pants brushes past it. Finally, you undo the braid you hide under your headdress, letting it flow loosely down between your shoulder blades.
There, now you're completely naked in a dark room and giddy from having successfully punched depression in the face today. You'll have to thank Den later for helping. Maybe send him a fruit basket or something? Does he even like fruit? Who cares, you're on top of the damn world right now!
You slowly step into the liquid, wading out until you're elbow-deep. Your hair just barely brushes against its surface, dancing in the soft blue glow of the unnatural lake. You close your eyes and stand there enjoying the momentary serenity.
"Is it that time again?" A familiar voice asks, surprised. "Strange, it doesn't feel like it's been a full week yet." A hint of excitement seeps into its speech. "Or are you simply that eager, daughter?" it would not surprise me
"It's been a week." You say, eyes remaining closed. "You must be going senile."
You hear chuckling. "As you say." You hear something move through the water behind you, heavy and slow. You make no move to run. You're used to it by now. It's just a little discomfort before Purification, you can handle this. you are a filthy woman
A melody begins to play in your head.
"You seem happy." Something touches your back, slowly trailing along your spine. It feels cold and clammy. "Did something happen?"did you accept your impropriety
"I learned a song." You feel a tug on your hair. "The man from earlier was a bard, he played me something from his home."
A hum. Your hair falls against your back. The clammy touch returns, tracing down your shoulder to your hip. You do your best to suppress a shiver.
"This man," you force yourself to stiffen as the figure moves to your front, his touch following him. You do your best to ignore any feeling below your neck. "Does he make you happy?" youre disgusting being so affected by a stranger
The melody grows. You try to focus on it, let it distract you.
"H-he did improve my mood." You tense, and your lungs struggle to operate. "H-his song was very bea-beautiful."
"Are you alright, child? You sound as though you are having trouble getting air." do not delude yourself
"I-I'm fine," you lie. You cannot feel, cannot see, cannot breathe. But you can still hear. You hear the familiar voice, and behind it, the melody, slowly growing with every second. You focus on it until you hear nothing else.
"If you say so." y o u a r e m i n e
The melody overpowers everything else, washing away your senses. It seeps into your bones, your blood, and you let it wash away everything else.
You can open your eyes now.
You slowly do so, hesitant of what you might see. You don't remember the last time you had them open during Purification. You know it's easier to put behind the wall if you keep them closed. However, when they finally open there is nothing in front of you. You look around, searching for the voice and the touch, but nothing is there. There is only you, the water, and the melody.
What was that?
You almost leave then and there. The music, that had never happened before. You'd never lost yourself like that while in the chamber, and you have no idea what that means. It's only when you hold yourself and feel the icy touch of the Seal on your chest that you decide to stay.
You take a deep, shaky breath. You cross your arms over yourself, close your eyes, and fall into the unearthly glow of the lake. The water envelops you, like a giant hand pulling you down deeper and deeper into the liquid. You peek through your eyelids, watching as you drift through the emerald fluid towards the source of the light.
Sitting perfectly still in the expanse is a solid white crystal. It does not flow with the water but acts like a fixed point in the void across every Purification Chamber. It is always the same distance from the door: seventy steps out, four hundred and ninety seconds falling through the water. Even when the sea is disturbed, when the flow rushes against it, it never budges an inch. As you come closer, you can see the inscriptions which scrawl across its surface. Thousands of lines of ancient script, broken every so often by depictions of strange and horrific creatures. The flow brings you near one in particular: A series of concentric beryl wheels which intersected and rotated about each other. Upon the surface of each wheel were a thousand eyes, open to gaze upon the whole of the world at once. In the center of these wheels was a crystal of fire, folding in and devouring itself. From the fire came bolts of lightning that struck the wheels, seeming to hold the flames together inside.
The wheels in the image move, twisting and turning until they had made a hole as wide as you between them. The flaming crystal reached out a tendril of lightning towards you, wrapping itself around you like a silk cloth. It pulled you in gently, yet with the speed of a thundering storm. The inverted fire consumes you, and you fall into the Heart of the Chamber.
The interior of the crystal is much like its exterior. Illegible text scrawled across its surface, surrounding the same images on the outside. Though, even you could tell that it wasn't the exact same letters as before. Probably the same alphabet, but definitely arranged differently.
You begin to relax. This is the part of Purification that you enjoy most, and you allow what happens next to go uninterrupted.
All across your body, your veins begin to darken to a blackish hue. Your skin pales, and you feel like your blood has turned to sludge. You look dead, but the steady beat of your heart reminds you just how alive you are. Slowly, but surely, the inky flow makes its way towards your heart, towards the scarlet letter between your breasts. When the last of it is safely inside the Seal, the fun part begins.
A split in reality appears before you. You can't see it per se. But you can look at it and you know what it is. It's a small, precise cut in the fabric of the universe, a calculated surgery to remove a cancer with minimal invasion. It's a line in three-dimensional space, and yet it leads to a dimension higher than yours. All this you know just by looking at it, and yet you don't understand a bit of it yourself.
From the split appears a Hand of pure white. It looks entirely organic at first glance, but focusing on it for more than a second reveals its construction of a thousand swords, shifting and bending around each other to give off the illusion of flesh. The arm of blades stretches from the tear towards your Seal, and the black sludge flows out of you and into the waiting grasp of the Hand. It continues to stretch towards you, absorbing the inky substance until it touches you. It is light and gentle, surprisingly reminiscent of fur, and then it closes into a fist and returns to the other side of the split.
You feel light and free like a heavy burden had been lifted from your soul. Your earlier giddiness has calmed into a serene feeling. For this moment, at least, you feel content.
The wheel rotates again, and it once again reaches an electric rope towards you. This time you grab it and hold on as it pulls you into the flaming crystal. When you strike the crystal, your head breaks through the surface of the water. You cough for a moment, pushing some of the liquid out of your lungs. Once you've caught your breath, you put on your pants and tunic and tuck your already folded robe and headdress under your arm. You leave your hair down for now.
When you leave the Purification Chamber Chet, you realize you've been in there for more a little over an hour, it's already afternoon. You missed lunch, but you should still be able to pick something up if you rush to the kitchens. You also need to drop off your outerwear to be washed, but that's on the way to the library. You still need to let Father Absalom know exactly how Den's doing, too, but he's on the complete opposite end of the Synagogue.
Where to next, Anna?
[] The kitchens, you need fooooooood.
[] To the Library! Get stuff washed and get work done!
[] Let the Father know how Den's doing. Maybe arrange that fruit basket to be delivered?
-:-:-;-:-:-
[x]Purification! Purification! Purification!
Day 1 / Day 3712
Midday
You turn down the hall and start walking towards the nearest Purification Chamber. You've been awake for almost 30 hours now, not including your short rest with the man in the room behind you. You feel a little clean-up is in order. Moreso when your mind inevitably drifts back to the conversation you had with him. Or rather, where it had been going.
You shiver. You can feel the thoughts on the edge of your mind. Like the flickering flame which spawned them, they lap against the wall you've built to close them off. They call to you to tear down the wall, to let them out, to look at them. Every tongue of memory that whips past your defense unsettles you. Sometimes it's the faintest whisper of a familiar voice, so quiet it's unintelligible. At times it fills you with comfort and others with terror, and you have no idea why. Other times it's a flash of color, like the green of a silk dress, an orange crack in a brown sky, the white cloth over sterling silver.
You're certain that not all of the Tainted became so in the same way as you. They could remember it without fear or anxiety. They could see it as a clear moment in their history. You envied them. For ten years you've only seen flashes from the other side of the wall, and those are enough to instill a healthy fear of the knowledge beyond.
"Why are you disturbed, my soul?
I have one strong to protect me,
In his arms, I rest, and my mind is eased."
You feel your fraying nerves smooth over. The building anxiety begins to dissipate, and you release a sigh of relief. You don't like dealing with it like this, but it's all you can do for now. As the artificial calm suffuses your mind, something like music brushes against its edge. It flows through the cluttered landscape of your mind until it finds the barrier between the calm and the flame, pushing into it until it fades inside. The flames seem to die down a little bit, and the artificial calm feels a little more genuine.
Weird, that doesn't usually happen. Den's song must still be having some effect on you. You feel a little happier at the thought. For some reason.
You arrive at Purification Chamber Chet with a skip in your step. You feel good. You feel really good. The iron doors of this particular chamber slide back with ease and your mood is still pretty positive. The door vanishes behind you, as it always does, and you're still skipping down the steps like you're going to the pool. You unlatch your robe and fold it away nicely along with your headpiece. You take off your tunic and brush a finger against the blistered skin over your heart. You feel the icy cold lance through you once again, but it's nowhere near as bad as usual. You're just too happy for it to really bother you. The scar on your leg doesn't act up either when the fabric of your pants brushes past it. Finally, you undo the braid you hide under your headdress, letting it flow loosely down between your shoulder blades.
There, now you're completely naked in a dark room and giddy from having successfully punched depression in the face today. You'll have to thank Den later for helping. Maybe send him a fruit basket or something? Does he even like fruit? Who cares, you're on top of the damn world right now!
You slowly step into the liquid, wading out until you're elbow-deep. Your hair just barely brushes against its surface, dancing in the soft blue glow of the unnatural lake. You close your eyes and stand there enjoying the momentary serenity.
"Is it that time again?" A familiar voice asks, surprised. "Strange, it doesn't feel like it's been a full week yet." A hint of excitement seeps into its speech. "Or are you simply that eager, daughter?" it would not surprise me
"It's been a week." You say, eyes remaining closed. "You must be going senile."
You hear chuckling. "As you say." You hear something move through the water behind you, heavy and slow. You make no move to run. You're used to it by now. It's just a little discomfort before Purification, you can handle this. you are a filthy woman
A melody begins to play in your head.
"You seem happy." Something touches your back, slowly trailing along your spine. It feels cold and clammy. "Did something happen?"did you accept your impropriety
"I learned a song." You feel a tug on your hair. "The man from earlier was a bard, he played me something from his home."
A hum. Your hair falls against your back. The clammy touch returns, tracing down your shoulder to your hip. You do your best to suppress a shiver.
"This man," you force yourself to stiffen as the figure moves to your front, his touch following him. You do your best to ignore any feeling below your neck. "Does he make you happy?" youre disgusting being so affected by a stranger
The melody grows. You try to focus on it, let it distract you.
"H-he did improve my mood." You tense, and your lungs struggle to operate. "H-his song was very bea-beautiful."
"Are you alright, child? You sound as though you are having trouble getting air." do not delude yourself
"I-I'm fine," you lie. You cannot feel, cannot see, cannot breathe. But you can still hear. You hear the familiar voice, and behind it, the melody, slowly growing with every second. You focus on it until you hear nothing else.
"If you say so." y o u a r e m i n e
The melody overpowers everything else, washing away your senses. It seeps into your bones, your blood, and you let it wash away everything else.
You can open your eyes now.
You slowly do so, hesitant of what you might see. You don't remember the last time you had them open during Purification. You know it's easier to put behind the wall if you keep them closed. However, when they finally open there is nothing in front of you. You look around, searching for the voice and the touch, but nothing is there. There is only you, the water, and the melody.
What was that?
You almost leave then and there. The music, that had never happened before. You'd never lost yourself like that while in the chamber, and you have no idea what that means. It's only when you hold yourself and feel the icy touch of the Seal on your chest that you decide to stay.
You take a deep, shaky breath. You cross your arms over yourself, close your eyes, and fall into the unearthly glow of the lake. The water envelops you, like a giant hand pulling you down deeper and deeper into the liquid. You peek through your eyelids, watching as you drift through the emerald fluid towards the source of the light.
Sitting perfectly still in the expanse is a solid white crystal. It does not flow with the water but acts like a fixed point in the void across every Purification Chamber. It is always the same distance from the door: seventy steps out, four hundred and ninety seconds falling through the water. Even when the sea is disturbed, when the flow rushes against it, it never budges an inch. As you come closer, you can see the inscriptions which scrawl across its surface. Thousands of lines of ancient script, broken every so often by depictions of strange and horrific creatures. The flow brings you near one in particular: A series of concentric beryl wheels which intersected and rotated about each other. Upon the surface of each wheel were a thousand eyes, open to gaze upon the whole of the world at once. In the center of these wheels was a crystal of fire, folding in and devouring itself. From the fire came bolts of lightning that struck the wheels, seeming to hold the flames together inside.
The wheels in the image move, twisting and turning until they had made a hole as wide as you between them. The flaming crystal reached out a tendril of lightning towards you, wrapping itself around you like a silk cloth. It pulled you in gently, yet with the speed of a thundering storm. The inverted fire consumes you, and you fall into the Heart of the Chamber.
-:-:-;-:-:-
The interior of the crystal is much like its exterior. Illegible text scrawled across its surface, surrounding the same images on the outside. Though, even you could tell that it wasn't the exact same letters as before. Probably the same alphabet, but definitely arranged differently.
You begin to relax. This is the part of Purification that you enjoy most, and you allow what happens next to go uninterrupted.
All across your body, your veins begin to darken to a blackish hue. Your skin pales, and you feel like your blood has turned to sludge. You look dead, but the steady beat of your heart reminds you just how alive you are. Slowly, but surely, the inky flow makes its way towards your heart, towards the scarlet letter between your breasts. When the last of it is safely inside the Seal, the fun part begins.
A split in reality appears before you. You can't see it per se. But you can look at it and you know what it is. It's a small, precise cut in the fabric of the universe, a calculated surgery to remove a cancer with minimal invasion. It's a line in three-dimensional space, and yet it leads to a dimension higher than yours. All this you know just by looking at it, and yet you don't understand a bit of it yourself.
From the split appears a Hand of pure white. It looks entirely organic at first glance, but focusing on it for more than a second reveals its construction of a thousand swords, shifting and bending around each other to give off the illusion of flesh. The arm of blades stretches from the tear towards your Seal, and the black sludge flows out of you and into the waiting grasp of the Hand. It continues to stretch towards you, absorbing the inky substance until it touches you. It is light and gentle, surprisingly reminiscent of fur, and then it closes into a fist and returns to the other side of the split.
You feel light and free like a heavy burden had been lifted from your soul. Your earlier giddiness has calmed into a serene feeling. For this moment, at least, you feel content.
The wheel rotates again, and it once again reaches an electric rope towards you. This time you grab it and hold on as it pulls you into the flaming crystal. When you strike the crystal, your head breaks through the surface of the water. You cough for a moment, pushing some of the liquid out of your lungs. Once you've caught your breath, you put on your pants and tunic and tuck your already folded robe and headdress under your arm. You leave your hair down for now.
When you leave the Purification Chamber Chet, you realize you've been in there for more a little over an hour, it's already afternoon. You missed lunch, but you should still be able to pick something up if you rush to the kitchens. You also need to drop off your outerwear to be washed, but that's on the way to the library. You still need to let Father Absalom know exactly how Den's doing, too, but he's on the complete opposite end of the Synagogue.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Where to next, Anna?
[] The kitchens, you need fooooooood.
[] To the Library! Get stuff washed and get work done!
[] Let the Father know how Den's doing. Maybe arrange that fruit basket to be delivered?
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Act I - 4. Food Is Always a Good Idea
Rickshaw
Officially a Boss Mob
- Location
- The Land of Boots and Ten Gallon Hats
A 1:2 vote ratio is enough to give it a shoutout, I guess.
[x] The kitchens, you need fooooooood.
[x]Get stuff washedand get work done!
Day 1 You've only got so many of these, you know?
Afternoon
Your stomach groans audibly. You check the surrounding area to make sure nobody heard. Phwew, you're alone. Can you remember your last meal? It was probably yesterday evening, followed by prayer and getting ready for bed and not going to bed so you could sneak out and play with Magic. Then this morning and Purification, and now you realize just how exhausted you feel. Yeah, it's probably time you ate something and gave yourself enough energy to finish the day.
Luckily for you, the kitchens aren't too far. Only a dozen or so sets of stairs up and a few more down, a handful of winding corridors, a ladder, two passages hidden behind paintings, and one game of hopscotch, which you lost yet again. You have no idea how the older servants do it so fast. They have the legs of a professional athlete, you swear. Thankfully one of them was willing to take your laundry for you, assuring you that it'd be ready by tomorrow morning.
But for now, you're left wandering the halls of Temple Synagogue in just a tunic and pants. You open the door to the kitchens and desperately hope that Sister Naomi is somewhere else. You would rather not be lectured on proper dress for Maidens again.
A girl a year or two older than you turns from a nearby soup cauldron. "Hello, Anna," her smile is gentle. "Forget to eat again?"
You scratch the back of your head and laugh. "Yeah, kinda. This morning was kinda busy."
She turns back to her pot, continuing to mix it. "And what kept you from prayer this time?"
"It's not that often," you pout. "And I have a good excuse this time! The Father asked me to help him with a Screening."
"And how'd that go?" She tastes the broth and scrunches her face. "Hm, a little bland. Could you grab me the salt on the-" You spot it on a shelf next to you and hand it over. "Thanks."
You shake your head. "No problem. It was okay at first, but the guy turned out to be Tainted. He reacted pretty badly when it awakened."
"Speaking of…"
"I just got out of Purification. Had to skip lunch. Anyways, I'm good for another week or so." Her shoulders seemed to relax. You frown just a little but say nothing. "But before that, I had to stay with the guy until he woke up. Explain the basics." You quickly go back to smiling. "He's apparently a bard from a place called Hafen-something. He played me a song."
The cook hums, grabbing a pair of bowls from a nearby table. She fills them both with the delicious-smelling broth and hands one to you.
"You, Miriam, are a lifesaver." You greedily devour the liquid. It burns your tongue, but you're too hungry to care.
Miriam smirks before blowing on her own spoonful. "Sounds like you fancy the man."
You stop mid-slurp. A decent amount of the liquid completely misses your mouth and trails down your chin. Despite that, you manage a suitably suspicious glare. "I can-" the liquid in your mouth falls out, and you quickly swallow before you make a further fool of yourself. "I can't tell if you're messing with me or not."
The smirk widens. "Come on, can't I get anything out of you?"
You shake your head and hide it behind your bowl of soup. A bowl of soup which is now empty. Strange, you were almost certain there was more in there a second ago oh wait it's on your tunic. You sigh and put the bowl down. At least it was only the little bit at the bottom of the bowl. Miriam hands you a towel and you accept it with thanks.
"You know," you say, roughly scrubbing the splotch, "I appreciate him. He used that special music magic on me, and it made my day a little bit better. And it felt nice to be able to talk to someone in a similar situation as mine." There, the stain is barely visible now. At least, if you look at it from a distance, with one eye closed. And probably only if you're not looking directly at it. You give up on the infernal spill and return the towel. "Even if only for a few minutes."
The older woman smiles when she takes it. "If it's any help, he'll have to stay in the city and get his Seal renewed regularly. You'll get to see him again."
The corners of your mouth curl up at the thought. "Yeah. Hopefully."
She gives you a pitying look, which you ignore. You're not some lovesick girl pining after a kind stranger after your first meeting. This isn't some sappy romance novella like the ones that Sister Naomi is constantly confiscating from the other Maidens. You're just lonely and want some friends who aren't obligated by law to ignore you. Plus, he can magically make you feel better by playing music. With literal Magic. You think literally anyone would want a friend like that.
"Thank you for the meal, Miriam." You stretch, your stomach murmuring happily as you do. "And for talking to me."
"Anytime," she says, waving you off. "Now go do your chores before Sister No-fun chews you out more than you're already in for."
You nod and leave the kitchen area. You're on the main floor now, where the layout of the Temple is a lot simpler for the guests. Light streaming through a window reveals that it hasn't been very long, you could probably fit one more activity in your afternoon. The Father's office is up a few flights of somewhat normal stairs (you think, one of the statues on the way seems to change position every time you look away). You could also go back into the labyrinth below, where Library Gimel is. You think that's the one you were assigned to, anyway. You also hear something through the window, like clanging metal. Are the city guards visiting again? Might be interesting to see what they're up to.
Quick note for voters worrying about Den, he's not stuck in limbo while you play as Anna. Both him and Anna have preset daily routines they will go through while you play as the other (which include behind-the-screen rolls for Research and such). For instance, during the next update, Den will be preparing for his gig at the Marching Mare while you guys take Anna on the next portion of her adventure.
And on that subject, you guys voted for an interlude perspective of those scenes. They'll now be tacked onto the end of Anna's update for the Evening segment instead of being an update in-and-of themselves. This is just a heads up so you're prepared when it comes in 2~ish updates.
What unexpected adventure will Anna get into on the next episode of My Young Adult Life as a Nun in an Eldritch Fantasy World?
[] Conspiracy! The Library Cleaning Game Isn't a Real Game?!
[] The Late Afternoon Report with Holy Maiden Anna! A Talk with Father Absalom!
[] Full Metal Jackets! The Honourable Soldiers of Temple City!
-:-:-;-:-:-
[x] The kitchens, you need fooooooood.
[x]Get stuff washed
Day 1 You've only got so many of these, you know?
Afternoon
Your stomach groans audibly. You check the surrounding area to make sure nobody heard. Phwew, you're alone. Can you remember your last meal? It was probably yesterday evening, followed by prayer and getting ready for bed and not going to bed so you could sneak out and play with Magic. Then this morning and Purification, and now you realize just how exhausted you feel. Yeah, it's probably time you ate something and gave yourself enough energy to finish the day.
Luckily for you, the kitchens aren't too far. Only a dozen or so sets of stairs up and a few more down, a handful of winding corridors, a ladder, two passages hidden behind paintings, and one game of hopscotch, which you lost yet again. You have no idea how the older servants do it so fast. They have the legs of a professional athlete, you swear. Thankfully one of them was willing to take your laundry for you, assuring you that it'd be ready by tomorrow morning.
But for now, you're left wandering the halls of Temple Synagogue in just a tunic and pants. You open the door to the kitchens and desperately hope that Sister Naomi is somewhere else. You would rather not be lectured on proper dress for Maidens again.
A girl a year or two older than you turns from a nearby soup cauldron. "Hello, Anna," her smile is gentle. "Forget to eat again?"
You scratch the back of your head and laugh. "Yeah, kinda. This morning was kinda busy."
She turns back to her pot, continuing to mix it. "And what kept you from prayer this time?"
"It's not that often," you pout. "And I have a good excuse this time! The Father asked me to help him with a Screening."
"And how'd that go?" She tastes the broth and scrunches her face. "Hm, a little bland. Could you grab me the salt on the-" You spot it on a shelf next to you and hand it over. "Thanks."
You shake your head. "No problem. It was okay at first, but the guy turned out to be Tainted. He reacted pretty badly when it awakened."
"Speaking of…"
"I just got out of Purification. Had to skip lunch. Anyways, I'm good for another week or so." Her shoulders seemed to relax. You frown just a little but say nothing. "But before that, I had to stay with the guy until he woke up. Explain the basics." You quickly go back to smiling. "He's apparently a bard from a place called Hafen-something. He played me a song."
The cook hums, grabbing a pair of bowls from a nearby table. She fills them both with the delicious-smelling broth and hands one to you.
"You, Miriam, are a lifesaver." You greedily devour the liquid. It burns your tongue, but you're too hungry to care.
Miriam smirks before blowing on her own spoonful. "Sounds like you fancy the man."
You stop mid-slurp. A decent amount of the liquid completely misses your mouth and trails down your chin. Despite that, you manage a suitably suspicious glare. "I can-" the liquid in your mouth falls out, and you quickly swallow before you make a further fool of yourself. "I can't tell if you're messing with me or not."
The smirk widens. "Come on, can't I get anything out of you?"
You shake your head and hide it behind your bowl of soup. A bowl of soup which is now empty. Strange, you were almost certain there was more in there a second ago oh wait it's on your tunic. You sigh and put the bowl down. At least it was only the little bit at the bottom of the bowl. Miriam hands you a towel and you accept it with thanks.
"You know," you say, roughly scrubbing the splotch, "I appreciate him. He used that special music magic on me, and it made my day a little bit better. And it felt nice to be able to talk to someone in a similar situation as mine." There, the stain is barely visible now. At least, if you look at it from a distance, with one eye closed. And probably only if you're not looking directly at it. You give up on the infernal spill and return the towel. "Even if only for a few minutes."
The older woman smiles when she takes it. "If it's any help, he'll have to stay in the city and get his Seal renewed regularly. You'll get to see him again."
The corners of your mouth curl up at the thought. "Yeah. Hopefully."
She gives you a pitying look, which you ignore. You're not some lovesick girl pining after a kind stranger after your first meeting. This isn't some sappy romance novella like the ones that Sister Naomi is constantly confiscating from the other Maidens. You're just lonely and want some friends who aren't obligated by law to ignore you. Plus, he can magically make you feel better by playing music. With literal Magic. You think literally anyone would want a friend like that.
"Thank you for the meal, Miriam." You stretch, your stomach murmuring happily as you do. "And for talking to me."
"Anytime," she says, waving you off. "Now go do your chores before Sister No-fun chews you out more than you're already in for."
You nod and leave the kitchen area. You're on the main floor now, where the layout of the Temple is a lot simpler for the guests. Light streaming through a window reveals that it hasn't been very long, you could probably fit one more activity in your afternoon. The Father's office is up a few flights of somewhat normal stairs (you think, one of the statues on the way seems to change position every time you look away). You could also go back into the labyrinth below, where Library Gimel is. You think that's the one you were assigned to, anyway. You also hear something through the window, like clanging metal. Are the city guards visiting again? Might be interesting to see what they're up to.
-:-:-;-:-:-
Quick note for voters worrying about Den, he's not stuck in limbo while you play as Anna. Both him and Anna have preset daily routines they will go through while you play as the other (which include behind-the-screen rolls for Research and such). For instance, during the next update, Den will be preparing for his gig at the Marching Mare while you guys take Anna on the next portion of her adventure.
And on that subject, you guys voted for an interlude perspective of those scenes. They'll now be tacked onto the end of Anna's update for the Evening segment instead of being an update in-and-of themselves. This is just a heads up so you're prepared when it comes in 2~ish updates.
-:-:-;-:-:-
What unexpected adventure will Anna get into on the next episode of My Young Adult Life as a Nun in an Eldritch Fantasy World?
[] Conspiracy! The Library Cleaning Game Isn't a Real Game?!
[] The Late Afternoon Report with Holy Maiden Anna! A Talk with Father Absalom!
[] Full Metal Jackets! The Honourable Soldiers of Temple City!