Outlander Quest

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

​

Fear, Loss, Sadness, Humiliation

Pain.

You feel pain.

You scream, the act alone bringing you untold agony as you feel something shatter. As if a thousand of needles pierced your skin, then sheared it away in every direction. You thrash, but you are held by a force you do not see or understand.

"...unbelievable!"
Sounds. Words. Voices. You hear speech, loud and agitated, even over your torturous agony.
"What is happening?" Fear, but not your own.
"Degeneracy field is collapsing. The overflow phenomena is jamming the Singh-Pravka motors!"
"Someone hold them down! Hold them down!!!"

You cannot be stopped. Not by fear. Not by shame.

Not by pain.

You feel something break within you, like a dam. You feel...a force. A loud, thumming noise so great it roars everything into silence and calm. It should terrify you yet...you feel at peace with it. As if it was meant to be. As if it were your nature.
"-the guards! Get the guards-"
"We can't contain it! Levels are critical, the reality is-"
"...unbelievable. He was right. A complete breakdown in our own reality...."

The roar is so great you do not hear it. The force that holds you shatters and breaks, and so do the annoying, buzzing voices. You feel like a newborn God, limitless and endless.

There is light.


The breeze flows through your hair, and you narrow your eyes on reflex. The voice next to you laughs, in spite of their annoyance as rain falls, as if it were tears from heaven.

"What I don't understand is-" You continue where you left off. "How did they beat it? It defeated all the armies and all the science was helpless. But it still lost. How does it make sense?"

The man next you makes a humming noise, as he's contemplating something. He shrugs.
"They say God is a force. But most people understand God, or gods as we do ourselves. They assume it made them in their image, so it must look like them, right? But that doesn't have to be the case, does it?"

Understanding dawns on you. "...it thought differently. So the ritual-"

The man nods, as much as you can see through his pulled down hood. "It worked because the god believed it worked. It was a being of endless power, one that warped its reality by its very presence. But its mindset was different. To it words held true power. When the ritual was performed, it was tamed for it believed in its power absolutely; it believed the words absolutely and so would not be even capable of comprehending otherwise." You can almost hear the man smile. "In the end, the god was tricked, and it contained itself."

"So the scientist..."

"He was the fool, yes. By insisting there had to be an understood, scientific way of containing it, he broke the ritual and thus unbound the god - incidentally he was a petty scientist at that, given he could not accept the naked evidence his understanding of the world was not complete. But he was not stopped in time and the god was free again, and it remade the world in its image."

"That's....a bit of a downer."

"Is it? For us, yes, but the transformed followers of the god lived in peace and did not suffer. Perhaps this was simply the way it was meant to be."

"Some Captain you are." You ask wryly. The man laughs again.
"Maybe I am not a Captain after all."

"Captain.."
Captain
cAPtAin
Wake up, Captain-

***​

"Hey! Hey you wake up!! Are you okay?"

The reality hits you like a hammer. Your body sways, it's weight unfamiliar to you. Sounds and smells blend into a momentary cacophony that almost causes you to gag. Flashes of color cause you pain.

Pain. Yes, you are very familiar with pain.

But just as quickly, life slots into place. You regain some semblance of balance, and push down the bile threatening to escape from your throat. Your eyes water and you blink the tears away, light and color no longer your mortal enemy.

"You're finally awake huh? Must have been really out of it." You blink again, trying to find the source of the raspy, male voice. "Tried to cross the border, huh? Like most of those refugees over there." He's a man, maybe middle-aged or perhaps a bit older, with salt-and-pepper beard and short cropped hair, dressed in what had to be once quality woolen sweater, now worn with patches and age. Some kind of bandolier hangs across it. Tracing your eyes lower, you see a dingy wooden stool that stands before him, sparsely packed with goods. Tin cans, in various shapes and sizes, some sort of plastic packets, bottles and brown rectangles of...something.

"Bread." You think abstractly. "It's called....a...loaf? A loaf of bread. Bread and water. Rations. He's selling food." The thoughts are your own but you feel as if you have no control over them.

The man sighs. "Look, I feel for you guys. But I gotta live same as you. If you want something, you gotta pay or have something to trade. If not, then sorry, but fuck off." There's an edge to his voice.

"Pay?" Your voice sounds a little weak, but it rings clearly. You take a moment to look over the stall. The building - you assume it was a building - might have looked nice upon a time. Now it's only asset was that it was standing. The wallpaper was torn up long ago, and windows are cracked, if present at all. Remains of roof hang above you like charred bones, a dingy tarp stretched across them to protect the stall from elements. There is no wall behind you, and there is rubble everywhere.

"Yes, pay." The man grunts, somewhat exasperated. "With something real mind you, not that plastic card shit they use in Havens or Colonies. I take legos, bottle caps, bullets...if you have real milspec ammo or some toilet paper, that counts extra, I'll give." He shrugs and looks over you. "Hmmm, you wouldn't have any unobtanium with you, would you?"

"Un-what?" The word sounds strange and alien to you, and you feel a pang of exasperation and disbelief at the name. The man only fixes you with stare, unimpressed.

"What, lost your memory too?" He chuckles. "Cute enough I suppose, but sorry. I got to run a business here, not a charity."

Something bubbles up inside you, and you feel a pang of anger. That however seems to knock the wind out of you, and you wobble again, desperately trying to lean yourself on a still-standing wall to avoid falling.

"Hey! No fainting in my shop!!" The man's shout is part angry, part concerned as you stead yourself. You look off to a side catching a glint of something. A broken mirror hangs near you. You idly think about...something to do with broken mirrors and bad luck. However, a few jagged pieces are still in place, and through them, you see your distorted face.

[]A face of a pretty young woman
[]A face of a handsome man

You notice the man has moved, and you look up.

"...I...really don't know where I am?"
Where am I? Who am I?

There's an awkward pause between you, until you hear a shout.

"Oh! There you are! Why did you run off to..."

Spoiler

You turn around, slowly. The woman is pretty enough, in kind of hard, roguish way. She might even have been beautiful once, but a trio of particularly harsh scars and an eyepatch had saw to that. Her dark, thick hair is braided, blending with the old, baggy dark green coat she's wearing over clashing yellow shirt, smudged with dirt and...something. Only now you spot that her hair is highlighted by bright orange streaks.

"He one of yours?" The apparent shopkeeper grunts, somewhat mistrustful. The girl shrugs, and you feel something - a pang of recognition, but not deep enough for her to be someone you knew well.

"Kind of? We pulled a bunch of people from the Colony ruins last run. Couple were really banged up." She gestures to you. "My boss thought this one was braindead, so they kinda sent me for check up. Imagine my surprise when they kinda suddenly bolted..."

The man shakes his head. "Braindead is one way to put it. Rescues? You with Irina's group? Allah loves you children. Not many came back from that run, I hear."
The woman makes a face. "I don't think anyone expected such a sudden Emission. Fucking popo assholes." She turns to you. "But uh, we got you out alright it seems. How you're feeling?"

You tilt your head at her, staring blankly. "Where am I? What is this...place?"

She shoots you a disbelieving look, and the shopkeeper breaks out laughing. The girl winces.

"Seems like you got hit harder than we thought....Shit, you really don't remember anything?"
You shake your head.

"Well, that's great....because I have no idea who you are either!"

Oh. Well, that's a bit of a problem.

"As for where you are, well..." She trails off, looking at the street. "Welcome to Camp Ursus I guess."

You take a look yourself. Rubble squeezed between barely standing houses, tarps hung in place of roofs. Off to a side you see another dirt road, packed with people - dirty, tired, angry, squeezed like needles in the box. Beyond them, you see a tall chain-linked fence with barbed wire atop of it, and a sea of run down tents behind.

And there, even more people.
The stench of shit and urine makes you blanch, even here.

"It's...actually, where is this exactly?" The girl turns to shopkeeper. "This used to be Poland, right?"

Man shrugs, sitting himself on a small box that served as a stool. "Or Ukraine. Not that it matters; Poles has no control over their borders since Western half fucked off to rejoin the Union before Matter Storms of '31." He scoffs. "Serves them right, little patriotic shits. Lots of good people died when they started strafing refugee convoys going out of Russia in '27."

"Somewhere around the two, at any rate." The girl cuts in. "The camp is...well, as you can see. It's a camp. Place where people with nowhere left to go get pushed in. People like us."

"Us?" You ask.

"Outlanders." The shopkeeper replies, idly toying with tin cans on his table. It was a slow day, it seemed. "Outcasts, mutants, magefreaks - Outlanders." There's pain and anger and sadness in his eyes. "Everyone who the entitled pricks in Havens, and their little Sella suckers don't tolerate, and who people in the Colonies fear. The good and the bad. Innocent and guilty."

"Earth's environment hasn't been stable since Magic came back." The girl wistfully looks at the sky. "That was in 2012, long before I was born. Things quickly went after that - Climate Collapse, then Populist Wars, then the Class War. Most governments don't really exist anymore. The rich people -" she makes some sort of gesture you guess to be vaguely insulting. "Live in the Havens".

"The Last Paradise on Earth." The man chortles. "Allah my witness, I'd give the assholes the taste of my shoe."

"They're huge metropolitan complexes, walled off and guarded." The woman leans on a pile of rubble, opposite to you while gesturing. "They are last places where environment is mostly stable. Then there are Colonies. I guess you could call them 'work camps' or something. They provide materials for Havens to survive - mostly food. Shitty living, and once in a while the government or some PMC mows down some fools when they start demanding. And then there's us." She grins. "Outlanders. Most move from place to place - environment's not stable, and there are Matter Storms now, so few places are truly safe anyway. Most of us get by uh, trading with Colonies or companies. Y'know, items or service."

"Or Unobtanium" Shopkeeper calls back. "It's always about unobtanium".

"You've mentioned it before." You say, your voice more level than it was before. "But what is it, exactly?"

The girl probes your face for a moment, as if trying to search for something. She finally shakes her head. "It's kinda like....concentrated magic I guess? It started popping out of the ground a few years after 2012. Fields or iridescent crystals, some as small as a patch of grass, others the size of mountains."

"I've heard a wise man say once." The shopkeeper cuts in again. "The Unobtanium is like magical salt. When mages change reality, it's like throwing a stone into a bucket with salt water. The impact creates a new surface, and it causes water to overflow from the bucket. Once it dries, you find salt." He shakes his head. "Same principle really. Only much more dangerous."

"How so?" You furrow your brows.

"Unobtanium in its pure form is toxic to any non-mutant, or non-mage." Girl pick ups again. "And even then, anyone but mages risks picking up the Crystal Kiss." She makes a face. "Turns you into crystal bit-by-bit. Unless you're a mage, you have an even odds about just getting stuck with an infection, or it devolving into lethal variant. It's also extremely infective in latter stages." She looks wistfully into distance. "Once Unobtanium is processed, it's pretty much safe unless ingested. It's also very valuable - a gram of Unobtanium has enough energy to last for weeks on end. Materials made with it can defy conventional physics."

The shopkeeper picks up again as he plays with tin of sardines. "It's so valuable corpos are willing to openly fight government taxmen without fears of repercussions. They and Havens use Outlanders to collect it from the Crystal Fields." He shakes his head, as if in sadness. "It's dangerous work. Besides being toxic, the Fields have all sorts of phenomena...and the rate of Matter Storms there is higher than anywhere else. Nobody can figure out if they call out to them, or whether the Storms are actually causing the material to manifest. But everyone wants the results."

"It's not an easy work, but if you can get some, a piece of Unobtanium can get you food for a week, or a favor to get you out of a tight space....Heh, it's almost like having magic itself. Here-" The girl reaches somewhere within the folds of her jacket and pulls out a small sack, then fishes something out of it. It's a crystal-like crumb, ultramarine-to-purple than shines with iridescent aura.

The moment you see it, something changes.

Something just beneath the surface, just beneath your awareness, springs to life. A sense of wrongness about where you are becomes unbearable. The smell, the stench, the sounds, the lack of knowledge, frustration at your ignorance, the decrepit surroundings.

This is wrong, somehow




Y̶̧̮͚̌̓̀̽͒̾̾̈́͑͐̓̉͘ŏ̷̢̘̗̪̙̪͎͙͓̞̥̹̼͓͉̭̼̬̘̞̖͈̬͍͑̆͐̎̂̅͐̃͊̂́̃͑̐̐̉͠ǔ̸̡̮̣̙̝͖̻̬̮̠̟̈́̒ ̵̧̛̻̲͇̯̬̥͇͋̋̃̃̇̏̐̿̌̇̎͊̐̊̅́̔̍d̴͙͚̖̫̠͆̓̾͒̔͗̓̾̈́̇̏̚͝͝e̴̢̥̺͕͓̖̣̱͆̇̚ç̸̨̧̣̱̰͕͉̪̻̞̱̞̭͕̱̩̊̏͒̆͛̑̈́̌͛͊͊̉͋̏̾͒̿͆͋̚̚͘͘͠r̴̤̦̩̱̮͖̠̤̫̖͚̣̙̹̪̘̪̘̗͈̥͚͎̓͌̋̉̈́̀̎́͛̋̂̂̋̀͆̈́͝͠e̸̡̤̥͚̤͖̹͙̹̟̱͉̻̜͚͖͍̠̿̈́̓̉̄͊̈́̊̅̓̅͌̎͐̎̈͛̿̐̐̚͝e̷̛̙̪̝̤̾͌͐̀̊̋̊̏̔͒͝ ̴̻̣̳͈͚̠̝͇͎̩͖̰͎͍̭͖͐̆̑́͊̅͊̊̆͠ͅi̴̗̬͈̞͙͆̓͑̀̄̊̓̾̓̾̔̃̏̚̕ț̸͕̳̖͙̺̀͋̈́̀̌͒͗̋̉͐̑̚̚͝ͅ ̸̢̧̨͎̟̘͉̮̰̹̠̯̱̤̺̩͚̩͓̮̏͌̇̓̽͜ͅn̵̨̛̛̯̦͚̭͍̟͈̮̝̙̺̤̝͈͍̗̣̋̆̅̃̎͋̀̅͑̅̈́̑̏͌̈́̒̿̄̾̈̓̊o̷̢̨͇͈͇͔̦͖̱͔̰͍͓̱̬̯͓̻̠̹̔͗͂̓̇̀̊̀̔͗ţ̶̢̡̰̩̪͙͖͕͈̬͈̬̭̗̯̱̞̖̥̣̑͐̊̒̽͂́́̏́̇̆͌̈̆̍̒͑͜ͅ ̷̢̭̫̣̭̳̳̦̈́̈̽̀͋́͗̀̍̍̑͠ͅţ̵̧̗̘̘̺̗͈̯̪̱̤̯̦̱͉̗͕̈́͋̊̽̋̆͐͂̈́͊̅͊̀͘ͅỏ̶̧̫̟̜̼̩̦̜̼̘̹̤̬̜̤̬ ̷̨̧̨̜̼̰̯̣̳̫͚͎̘̯̝͉̗̰͖͕̭̪͐̀̒̍̑̔̉̃̔͛͑͆͗̌̇̏͘͠ͅb̴̧̢̛͔̠͇̭͉͉̲̗͖̮̜̘̫̎̍̒̔͑́̓͆͛̏̎͗̓̎̕̚͝ͅȩ̸̧̧̣̱̝̳̯̳̜̗̳͖͓̠̪̫̜̓̌͜




Reality ceases to matter, and you feel a sensation not akin to broken glass piecing itself together. You reflexively raise your hand, as the piece of unobtanium suddenly glows before your eyes like a sun. Rubble shifts and reattaches itself, and where material is lacking, supports, bricks and cement form out of thin air. The tapestry replenishes itself, now in vibrant white and pale green. Windows become whole, and the broken mirror reassembles itself, perfect and shining.

The shopkeeper and girl look at you stunned as you reassemble the house back.

"Allah as my witness." The shopkeeper drops the tin in his hand. "You're a mage."

***​

Things flow swiftly after that, a barrage a hurried questions and awed whispers. To which you have no answers. The magic, the crystals -
- Yet, you cannot say they do not bear resemblance to the world you knew, for you knew not a world.

There are some flashes though, ones you keep to yourself. A circle of six figures, then five. A deer's antlers. Sounds of chimes and wind, a man in orange raincoat. A triangle drawn with arrows, beyond which you see halls colored in blood.

Nothing that makes sense.

You learn a little bit more about this bizarre world you find yourself in. Magic is apparently common, as are mutants - people touched by magic. Some are born with hair and eyes bizarre. Some have antlers, horns, ears as a fox or a horse. Some a lizard's or a lion's head. Others can see more, or phase through objects....

But mages can do it all.

Nobody knows how it works of course. The shopkeeper tells you that mages create their own reality, substituting the world around them. That a mage does not light things on fire, they simply decree them to be so, and so they begin to burn. Nobody but another mage truly understands magic, and they are spread out, scattered. Havens fear them, corporations desire them. Some live as hermits, others are wandering loremasters - some are said to live like kings, living off the backs of people they enthralled with their curses.

There are many stories. Most are most likely true.

The shopkeeper gives you an ample thanks for fixing "his" store, which you decline to protest. A dusty rucksack, unobtrusive and worn, but still solid, packed with food and water. It is admittedly not of greatest quality, but it should last you a while, and you are grateful.

"A mage. Who would have thought." The girl besides you mutters, twirling a stale bun of bread in her hand. "Then again, I guess that explains how you survived out there."

"Where did you find me exactly?" You ask, then rub your head awkwardly. "And uh....what do I call you?"

She smiles, though it is more like a roguish smirk. "I'm Jack. You know, like Jack Daniels?" It's supposed to be a joke, you guess, but it doesn't land, so she mutters something and moves on- "...uh, well, we pulled you out of Lviv ruins. Used to be a pretty big colony until Matter Storm ran through it like 6 months ago." She makes a face. "We and a bunch of other groups went in. Found bunch of popos - government paid assholes looking for trouble. Then a big Matter Storm emission came out of nowhere." There seems to be more, but she does not say it, and you do not press, instead walking in silence.

The road around you is crowded, with people and shanties. Some are clearly built in hurry, from debris and whatever other materials their owners found. A few are old buildings, still standing if occasionally leaning dangerously to one side. The stench of piss lessens, in favor of sweat and mud. You see sellers hawking their wares, burly explorer types with grim faces and holstered weapons haggling with one another. A dangerously naked girl sitting outside in this chilly weather, trying to fleece a thug out of his money. The very picture of decay and vice.

A shadow falls past you, and you look up, eyes widening. You have not seen it before, but now you see it clearly as the sun - A massive...landing strip...atop of steel hulls and massive tracks, like an overgrown harvester. The shanty town in fact seems to be built into its side, spreading ever-outwards.

"What is that!?"

"Oh." Jack adds almost absentmindedly. "That's a landship. Well, everyone normal just calls them crawlers. My dad used to say the governments built them, before...well, before the cities really fell and humans turned on one another. Back when they still thought things could be...contained.". She spits the word out, in distaste. "A lot were used in these huge wars mankind fought. But towards the end, a lot were captured by Outlanders and turned to wandering camps."

"So this whole town moves?" You ask in amazement.

"Nah, this one's been broke since forever. I guess the crew stayed camped nearby and Ursus was born from it." She lowers her head a little. "Some folks been trying to fix it though. It's not safe here."

"How so?" You ask in concern.

"Matter storms, dust storms, acid rain....there's also pollution seeping in from further east. Man-made and from Unobtanium fields." She shrugs. "Most who feel Ursus is doomed leave by foot, but a few are determined to get the old beast moving. 'It will be safer that way'. Heh, maybe. Or maybe not."

You walk in silence for a while, coming to grips with the world around you, finally you turn back to Jack.

"So what about me?"

"Mmmm, well, let's see..." she turns towards you with another smirk, clearly having expected this question. "You are a mage. That makes you very, very valuable. Technically, I should kiiinnndddaaaa fleece you over to my group, put you into debt....but honestly, not my style." She shrugs. "My sister's gonna be a bit mad, but I wasn't the one to pull you from under the rubble, so it isn't really my problem."

"So who did?"

"Don't know." She cheerfully adds, before growing more serious. "But if you're looking for a place....I would seriously ask you to consider coming with me. Our leader, Irina, is also a mage...she could help you out, and having two mages would be a big leg up for us. She's a good girl...tries too hard sometimes, bless her soul, and she can be as awkward as donkey's ass, but you probably won't find another willing to go the same length for her people in whole of Ursus. If she wasn't, I wouldn't bother with her."

"Aaaannndddd, that aside?" You feel a bit bad about brushing off Jack, but a nagging part of your intuition warns you about taking her at her word unconditionally. She smiles, evidently approving.

"Well, if you're looking to make it on your own....there are plenty of places to start working in Ursus. I'd try Pushkin's though. His taste in literature is terrible as is his singing voice, but he's actually trustworthy, and his bar gets visited by people who actually mean business. A mage is bound to find something for himself there."

"There's really no kind of government here?" You ask a little curiously, and Jack glances at you with exasperation and...a fair dose of pity.

"Well, technically there are government facilities at the refugee camp. Technically you can and register there, and they will find an accommodation and a job for you. Eventually. But I wouldn't recommend it." She lowers her tone. "Mutants disappear there regularly, and the popo goons we have in Ursus regularly go out and look for scrapes. Best you keep your head down when they do so. You might gib a few of them good, but you still look a little like jelly..."

You're about to say something, when you hear a roar behind you, followed by a thunder. You turn halfway through your sentence and see a cloud of dark smoke rising, not far from the shop you started at. Jack curses.

"Speak of the devil...probably some of the dumb shits walked into Insurgency kids, no doubt."

There's activity around you, as some people rush, clearly eager to be as far away as possible, others silent observing. Far away, you hear rapid staccato of cracks.
'Machinegun fire' you realize.

[]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.
[]Try your own luck, and search for Pushkin's
[]Go to the administration office despite your better judgment. You are that stupid desperate.

 

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

It is the year 20XX. The world has been divided into shattered into three societies. The "last remnants of humanity" - the wealthy elite and the service class that supports their technology - live in vast domed cities and metroplexes known as Havens, trying to hold onto increasingly meaningless status quo. Supporting Havens are the Colonies, inhabited by the underclass of laborers forced into lives of harsh servitude just to eat. Outside of them exist the Outlanders - mutants, magicians and malcontents excised from society; all those who do not conform to the status quo. They make do in a world of collapsed environment and continent-scouring Matter Storms by living lives of nomadic travelers, trading artifacts and the valuable Unobtanium with Colonies and megacorporations, as well as offering their services for various odd jobs. So it has been for decades.

This equilibrium is about to be broken.

Treated often with contempt and suspicion by the settled people who fear changes that magic has wrought to the world, Outlanders become increasingly dissatisfied with their circumstances. This lead to the rise of Insurgency, a powerful group that seeks to end the oppression of the Outlanders through violent destruction of the remaining society. Yet there are still those who would seek freedom and dignity without fighting others, caught in the crossfire as what remains of world's governments seeks to contain the situation. Meanwhile, wise men and wanderers are talking of Great Change; that the beginning of return of magic is set to complete and change the world, forever. Whispers abound of shadowy conflict between those who believe change is necessary and inevitable, and those who would see it stopped, even at the cost of the world itself.

You play the role of Captain, an amnesiac Mage found out of the way with no recollections of their past. You will, one way or the other, have decisive impact on events yet to unfurl. But first, you must survive, adapt, and find your own way in this bizarre new world.

Oh, and you may post now.

 

[Varano]

[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[Sirapthy]

[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.
[X]A face of a pretty young woman

 

[giodan]

[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[VagueZ]

[X]A face of a pretty young woman
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[Sara]

The opening to this quest was pretty fun to read, and you obviously put a lot of work into it. The images were a nice touch and I think the music did a really good job setting the mood while reading through it.

I thought you did a fairly decent job with getting through all the exposition, which can be challenging when introducing a new setting. Captains amnesiatic status made it feel warranted and Jack plus the shopkeepers colorful character kept it from being dry.

As far as the setting itself I like the mix of post apocalypse, urban fantasy and cyberpunk. Class warfare, a dystopian government, social unrest, resource shortages, unnatural disasters, and corrupt mages give a lot of hooks for interesting things to happen before you get into the PC's mysterious past.

As far as the vote.

Flipped a coin and decided I'd go for a handsome bishie this time.

[X] A face of a handsome man

[X] Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.


Well looks like a gunfight is going down around us. I hope the shopkeeper is safe and his shop doesn't get wrecked after we just helped get it in mint condition, I liked him.

I feel like going with Jack is the best thing to do for a number of reasons.

For one, there's a pitched battle going on around us and sticking with her seem likes it's the best way to guarantee we get it out of in one piece. She knows the city, sounds like she's dealt with dangerous stuff before, and seems to have a safe place to go too.

Two, they've been pretty helpful to us and their group seems fairly nice. Their group also helped us and a bunch of other Lviv survivors out, were nice enough to send someone to check on us when they thought we weren't capable of taking care of ourselves, and went looking for us when we disappeared before they even knew we were a valuable asset. The shopkeeper had a positive view of them and corroborated what Jack told us. Plus, from her rhetoric she doesn't seem like the type to try to extort someone for their own gain.

If they're willing to give us a roof over our head and steady work that might help others in our situation out it sounds like a good offer. I'd be willing to at least meet the group and give them a chance.

Three, having a friendly mage to help us figure things out in the form of Irina would be a big help considering it seems like our most, if not our only, useful skill. Our explanation of magic explicitly called out that only mages really understand magic and we don't know where else to find one or how willing they usually are to part with their secrets. Getting someone friendly, like Irina seems to be, is good for establishing ourselves.

Four, if we're at all interested in our past their the best lead we have. Their the ones who rescued us and Jack also let us know their are other survivors. If there were any family or friends of ours their to look after us I doubt we would have managed to just wander off on our own, but if we were a mage and had any ties to the city there's a fair chance someone they found might know something about us.

Fifth, I find Jack charming and the idea of working for a ragtag humanitarian leaning group in the post apocalypse seems interesting.

As far as the other options, well...

While we might be able to find other means of work at Pushkin's as a mage, we're in a relatively bad negotiating position. We don't seem to know a lot about magic or how to use our own or what the extent of it is. From the sounds of the explanation neither does the average lay person, so there's a fair chance neither us or our employer will know what we can reasonably do. We also don't know how much our services should be worth either, which isn't good if we don't want to get fleeced by someone looking to take advantage of our ignorance. Combine that with the fact that we have no place to stay, no support structure to fall back on, and not much to trade in an unfamiliar city probably means we're never going to be in a situation where it's easier to exploit us than now.

The government on the other hand sounds even worse. Trying to get public assistance or dealing with a government in a refugee camp can be trying at the best of times and these are certainly not the best of times, plus we have the added hassle of being amnesiac with no official documents at all. It means possibly living in a shanty town with a long wait to get a job, in a place where minorities tend to disappear and the cops regularly come in to beat the shit out of people. We haven't been painted the best picture of the government so far anyway given we were told they send people down to murder protesters in the Haven when they start demanding better treatment.

So if magic does get us a shorter waitlist we might not like the kind of jobs they have to offer us, and most of the power dynamics I talked about with the Pushkin option also apply here, only from the sound of it this time add in the possible threat of legal, violent, or economic coercion if we don't like what they have to offer.

 

[Cornix Argentus]

[X] A face of a handsome man

[X] Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[veekie]

[X]A face of a handsome man
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[AKuz]

[X]A face of a pretty young woman
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[Mechanical]

[X]A face of a pretty young woman
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[FatedBread]

[X]A face of a pretty young woman
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[Nevill]

Spoiler: typos?

"He was the fool, yes. By insisting there had to be an understood, scientific way of containing it, he broke the ritual and thus unbound the god - incidentally he was a pretty scientist at that, given he could not accept the naked evidence his understanding of the world was not complete.

Click to shrink...

"petty"?

"My boss thought this one was braindead, so they kind sent me for check up.

Click to shrink...

"kinda"?

Meanwhile, wise men and wanders are talking of Great Change

Click to shrink...

"wanderers"?

Well, this is off to a fantastic start. Loved every bit of the premise.

[x]A face of a handsome man
[x]Try your own luck, and search for Pushkin's

 

[Saturday]

[X]A face of a handsome man
[X]Try your own luck, and search for Pushkin's

Awesome worldbuilding.

 

[Shane_357]

[X]A face of a handsome man
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

 

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

And the vote is called. The results are:

[X]A face of a handsome man
[X]Stay with Jack. Meet the group she was talking about.

The first of which passing by only the slimmest of margins, which shows that every vote counts!

Big thank you to everyone who has voted, and for everyone's input. It is appreciated. I will not jinx it by saying update is going to be out "soon", but it is in the works.

 

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

Time seems to slow as you consider your options. You could strike out on your own...but could you? Should you? There is still so much you don't know. You're a mage, you can do magic but what does that even mean? And if you'd find a job - if mages are indeed so sought after - then how would you even know you aren't being ripped off?

Jack could be lying to you...but you also venture that it would be too roundabout for someone of her type. If she wanted to swindle you, she'd just take you whenever and be done with it. At the very least, you don't think she would be this cavalier about you not going with her. The option to meet another mage - someone else more knowledgeable about your condition than you, at any rate - is also tempting. And maybe, just maybe, this Irina, or someone in her group, might know something about you. It's a long-shot, vain hope, but it is there. And more importantly, the danger was here.

"We should get moving." You say quietly, dropping whatever other subject you were about to talk about.

"I take it you're going with me." Jack said, more in agreement than a question. "Then follow me, I know a route."

You break out into a run, following Jack as she bolts into one of the alleyways and does not stop. The sound of gunfire and explosions quickly blend into the noise behind you, together with the crowd. The path is winding and labyrinthine, going through several shacks and hallways at some point, even a section of a low-set roof you vault over. Movement still feels awkward and odd to you, but you manage to keep up with her, just about.

Or maybe she's just pacing herself for your sake.

Either way, you head deeper into the city, the looming shadow of the crawler growing over you with every step. Eventually, you emerge into a wide open plaza of packed dirt, which extended directly between the massive vehicle and the maze of buildings and shanties. There are a few stands here and there, but the wide open space makes it feel more open and less packed than the narrow roads - the smell is much better as well. You head towards one outcrop of buildings that were nestled directly next to the looming landship, weathered by time and nature, but still standing.

"That's our headquarters, such as it is." Jack says, though you can hear a note of pride in her voice. "There's actually an access point in one of the buildings going into the crawler - we kinda took over a few holds for our own. Mostly for storage and some such."

You once again look over the shadow looming above you. "You'd think the crawler would be up full of people."

"Yeeeaaahhhh." Jack drawls. "But lots of it is just trash piled atop of each other. 'Battle Damage' they call it. Lots of systems aren't reliable or working at all, so in the end people moved out of it I guess. There are still a few odd guys in there - we work with some of them." She shrugs. "Vadim's people are nice enough, as long as you don't touch their samogon. They've been trying to fix this thing for ages, so far without success. Don't know why they keep trying, to be honest."

You walk closer to the buildings, and note a makeshift neon signage, hanging off rusted grate. 'DUsT' is about the only word you can make out clearly - or at least, the only one lit up. You notice the building is haphazardly painted in pale and dark blues, with some rather prominent white graffiti. The level of detail and a repeated symbol - a white tower, makes you think it was a deliberate choice of the owners rather than simple street vandalism.

"Anything I should know?" You redirect your attention to Jack.

"Just be yourself I guess. Irina's kind enough, like I said. I will introduce you, then you two can talk it out." She shrugs. "The rest's up to you." She then tilts her head as if in thought, before adding in an afterthought - "As long as you don't call her a donkey."

With a swagger, Jack approaches one of the doors, and pushes them open. The plastic-and-metal appendage groans with age but opens smoothly enough, and you feel a rush of warm air over your face.

​

The inside is very much a scene of controlled chaos. Several large open rooms make for reception, packed with both genuine and makeshift tables. You see a man with a horse's head talking animatedly with a sleepy-looking girl with silver hair and fluffy tiger ears. In corner, a woman with shocking bright pink hair strokes her chin with steely dark, almost black hand while her partner contemplates a move on mismatched chessboard, the crystals hung from her head antlers glittering like miniature suns in the dim lightning. A bar further in room is crowded by men in dark coats or makeshift sweaters, looking over a paper map as they talk quietly. Music seeps out of an antique speakers and every once in a while a light flutters, sending pulses through a hazy mist of smoke and warmed breath. You spot a board, taking up one whole wall crowded with absolutely everything you can image, from haphazardly stuck papers to pieces of cardboard to metal strips drawn over with chalk - advertisements you realize.

Jack gets a few friendly greetings as she leads you deeper into the building, with you yourself getting more than a few glances. You go past one of the counters, through a beaded curtain, and walk up to an old door, looking more like a slab of rusty steel. Jack pounds it a couple of times, and there's a sound of grinding metal as a visor opens. You don't quite catch what's said, but the door opens with a groan, and you're lead to the other side, past a white-and-gold, snake-like lizardman sitting down next to a massive machine gun - only now you realize there's a firing slot cleverly cut into the door, ready to be opened at a moment's notice. Jack leads you further, into byzantine maze of oddly-lit corridors, and past a mismatched staircase that is wide enough at the bottom, but suddenly narrows past first floor. You see only glimpses of what lies in the rooms beyond - crates, a secured storeroom of some kind, a room overgrown with plants, another flooded with harsh orange light and sounds & smells of heavy machine work.

You get past another set of doors into a well-lit and relatively clean corridor, when you're suddenly stopped by a pair of guards. One is almost doll-like, a woman of pure sea-green eyes and hair of molten platinum with skin colder than death's touch. Another looks ethereal, with cascade of silver hair and marble-like skin. Her eyes seem closed shut, but you somehow don't feel she's blind as she glances at you, before turning to Jack, smiling as if she could do no more.

Spoiler

"Hello Jack, you're back early." Her voice is clear and sharp if light, but you can't help but hear an odd, ethereal echo to it. "Didn't cause any trouble down the road, have you?"

"Through no fault of my own, Izhmash." Jack says it with such a practiced ease, you must assume it had, in fact, happened more than once. "Brought a friend in to see Irina. Figured he might help."

"Indeed?" The woman turned towards you. Unlike most of the people here, her clothes and that of her partner looked more like a uniform of solid quality, rather than something hastily pieced and patched together. She glances up and down over you, then one of her eyes open. Like an unfurling flower, a deep, rich magneta orb bores into and through you with harsh, unnatural light. Just as quickly, hey eye closes back.

"You are most welcome here." The woman known as Izhmash speaks to you, in her calm and echo-y voice. "Irina is just up ahead. There are no urgent meetings today, so she should be able to see you right away."

You nod a little awkwardly, and the two women part to let you and Jack through, deeper into the corridor.

Despite appearances from the outside, the topmost floor felt much larger than it appeared from outside - enough so that you idly wondered if it was not some form of sorcery Irina was claimed to posses. The walls themselves were fairly clean, if faded, and furniture seemed to be purpose-made, rather than jury-rigged from boxes and trash. You spot a few rooms, some with half-opened doors behind which you can spot a number of people, mostly working over stacks of what looked like paper or cardboard - and a few computers as well.

You eventually cross a small lobby with a heavy support beam lodged in the center, and go through the largest door. Behind it, you venture is a room furnished mostly with items carried from the crawler itself: computer terminals of all shapes and sizes, connected through a haphazard web way of cables that slithered absolutely everywhere, both on the floor and the ceiling. At the centre was a large, square map table, clearly worn with age and use, but still in one piece. Maps and various kinds of odd notes in all colors, some connected by old and worn trails of colored yarn, took up an entire wall in the back.

Spoiler

You feel the woman you presume to be Irina before you actually see her; a calming brisk presence in the back of your mind, like a sea breeze or a morning dew. She stands not far from the central desk, calm in the eye of chaos. She's somewhat smaller than you anticipate, almost dainty and fragile. Her long, dark hair is brown and deep as mahogany wood, and you immediately notice a presence of two, elongated ears that most assuredly do not resemble a donkey's. Her dark coat covers her figure almost entirely, like a massive and heavy cloak. As she turns around, you're somewhat surprised at her youthful face, almost as much as at her well-kept antique shirt and a fashionable cravat, which somehow has kept its glittering luster even in these run-down conditions. And yet for all her youth, you can feel something under the surface, hard and strong and as sharp as a diamond. Her turquoise eyes sparkle with bright light, which almost seems to shimmer in the copious, yet simple, jewelry that she wears, which glows with the familiar sheen of Unobtanium Jack has showed to you.

"Jack!" Her voice is light and high-pitched as you'd expect, but there is tangible warmth behind it. "I am glad to see you well. I was worried when I heard the news of Insurgent attack."

"Heh." Jack smiled wryly. "You know me. I always land on four feet. Oh, and yeah, this is the guy you sent me to check up on-" She gestures to you as there's a flash of recognition in Irina's eyes. "This is..." suddenly there's a terribly panicked expression on Jack's face as she realizes she doesn't actually know what to call you.

"Captain." You say quietly, quashing a bitter smile. "It's all I remember."

Jack quickly narrates your story, to which Irina listens with rapt attention. Your apparent injury and listless state, you suddenly awakening and simply walking off from the camp as if in trance, your apparent amnesia and the awakening of your powers...

"You have done well, Jack." The praise is simple, but it's clear from her relieved reaction that it means a lot to Jack. "And you are of course welcome with us, Captain. Perhaps you would prefer if we'd discuss your story in private?" Irina's tone is soft and quiet, barely carrying over the background of the room, but you make an awkward nod in acknowledgement of her words. She smiles gently and beckons you to follow her.

"I will see you later then, Jack. Your sisters are waiting for you, anyway."

Jack visibly perks up at the mention of sisters, quickly turning on her heel and walking off - but not before flashing you a grin and a thumbs up. Irina merely stifles a giggle as she leads you to what you presume is her office in the back of control room.

As the doors automatically lock behind you with a hiss, your first impression is that it's clean. Unlike almost everything you had seen so far in Ursus, the walls are clear, fresh white color. The floors are likewise clean, gleaming metallic material of a prefab building, partially covered with a plush blue carpet. A single window lets in rapidly darkening light from outside through shutters. There are surprisingly few furniture around except a desk and a trio of chairs; you notice only a framed picture with its back to you on the desk itself, and various knick-knacks that looked like seamlessly connected, small metal pipes, forming rectangular shapes. There's also a single framed sheet of metal, with some chalk attached to it.

"I imagine you have questions."

You almost start to speak, but there are so many things they just get stuck in your throat. Who are you and what are you and what to do and how and a thousand more. You lick your lips, desperate for some sense of order in your thoughts now that you arrived at your destination.

What do you ask Irina? (choose two):

[]Ask her about herself
[]Ask her about her group
[]Ask her about Magic
[]Ask her about Ursus
[]Ask her about yourself

***​

Bit shorter than the last one; the next few updates will likely be shorter as you will be trying to integrate yourself in...whatever you have gotten yourself into. For what's it worth, the group is a pretty good way to prepare yourself and get ready to venture out into deeper waters than you would be able to by yourself.

As for your options, there are no true "wrong" ones. All this information you will learn in time. However, this choice will determine what your protagonist prioritizes, and thus what they consider valuable, which will shade your future interactions. Asking Irina about Magic will be a step towards learning it and the lore behind it; asking her about her group will be an attempt to better understand what her group does (and what day-to-day jobs you'd be able to do, the mundane skills etc.) and asking her about herself is pretty straightforward. Asking Irina about Ursus will give you better insight into what's going on and the politics of the refugees, and asking her about yourself be an attempt to glean something about your mysterious past. However, what will be the exact result of each choice....well, you will have to vote and see for yourself!

As always, discussion and input are appreciated.

 

[veekie]

[X]Ask her about her group
[X]Ask her about Ursus

 

[GAWR]

[X]Ask her about her group
[X]Ask her about Ursus

 

[Nevill]

Spoiler: typos

And the vote is called. The results are:
[...]
[X]Try your own luck, and search for Pushkin's

Click to shrink...

Cue us joining with Jack's group.

It took me a bit to realize that even though the votes were counted correctly, the "winning" vote listed in the above post was wrong.

You spot a board, taking up one whole wall crowded with absolutely everything you can image, from haphazardly stuck papers to pieces of cardboard to metal strips drawn over with chalk - advertisements you realize.

Click to shrink...

"imagine"

The man shakes his head. "Braindead is one way to put it. Rescues? You with Irina's group? Allah loves you children. Not many came back from that run, I hear."
The woman makes a face. "I don't think anyone expected such a sudden Emission. Fucking popo assholes."

Click to shrink...

Kinda want to know what popos have in common with emissions - which I suppose falls under Ursus? - but would prioritize things that have to do with us and our immediate future.

[x]Ask her about Magic
[x]Ask her about her group

What can a mage do for a living around here?

Also, borrowed characters in an original quest/setting? Tsk-tsk.

Although now I see that "memes" and "waifu wars" weren't tagged for nothing. What is this overabundance of furries beast-people though? Are those the "mutants", or the "transformed followers of the god" mentioned in the intro?

 

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

Cue us joining with Jack's group.

It took me a bit to realize that even though the votes were counted correctly, the "winning" vote listed in the above post was wrong.

Click to shrink...

Good catch, I could have sworn it had the correct one.

Also, borrowed characters in an original quest/setting? Tsk-tsk.

Although now I see that "memes" and "waifu wars" weren't tagged for nothing. What is this overabundance of furries beast-people though? Are those the "mutants", or the "transformed followers of the god" mentioned in the intro?

Click to shrink...

I often use character designs from various games/artbooks/pixiv for inspiration; if they're a named character I will usually give one or two nods to their original and also, it's funny to see some people trip up by assuming they know how the given character is going to act.

But, really, mostly memes.

That aside, beast-people are mutants. It's one of more extreme form mutation can take, but it's still safe in that you may have some extra bits, or different one than a human, but you're mostly okay. Past that spectrum, you get into territory where you generally don't live long.

Minor character thing, but Irina's not actually a mutant. Her ears are something she made herself, and something her teacher mercilessly gave her shit over, tough it does suggest some closer connection between mages and mutants beyond just "well, magic did it."

 

[Varder]

[x]Ask her about Magic
[x]Ask her about her group

 

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

Well, I figure the vote has went on long enough.

I'll be giving it one more day (24 hours to be exact), then I will close it. If anyone wishes to still cast a vote or change theirs, now's the time.

 

[Sara]

[X]Ask her about her group
[X]Ask her about Ursus

These are the two aspects most interesting to me at the moment. Plus, it can help us get integrated into the group while we're learning magic, establish some mundane competencies to back up whatever talent with magic we have, and help us establish bonds with the people there. Its hard to underestimate what the utility of magic here is other then very high, but true of a lot of mundane skills, and becoming a well rounded individual is going to give us something to fall back if and when are magic can't or wont be of help for whatever.

Asking about Ursus aside from just wanting to know the place we're living in at the moment is also a point of practicality. Our first coherent moments here involved the surrounding area devolving into a gun fight. The sooner we learn about the politics of the people involved, the sooner we can figure out how to navigate the city socially and stop ourselves from putting ourselves in danger by making the wrong move or hanging out with the wrong people. At the very least, it allows us to make informed choices about the kind of people that we help and associate with.

 

[Alastor Mobius Toth]

And that's it for this vote. The winners are:

[X]Ask her about her group
[X]Ask her about Ursus

A big Thank You to everyone who has voted; the update is in the works.