The God Diversion

[Birdsie]

Instrument Approach

The Educator made adaptations to accommodate the changed, offensive syllabus. A classroom became a shooting gallery to facilitate Solomon's practice, bolts of crimson and rays of scarlet flung around: destroying thrown disks, small hovering masses of stone, and spearing through animated mannequins with fragile metal skeletons. A clangor of demolition filled the room during the lessons, metal tearing and frying apart as detonations of red light struck bullet-sized holes through designated targets.

Another still was devoted to more arcane pursuits: conducting goetic summonings, studying the sacred steps of alchemical processes, learning to externalize an astral forecast of the self and swapping locations, and more. Here, Solomon learned to cast the least transmutations of matter and energy, more radical elemental invocations, and the imbuement of magic into lifeless matter, kneading willpower and intent from intangible abstracts into palpable phenomena with an influence on the realm of man.

Close to October's end, the Educator set an obstacle track ahead of him, as a final test of skill. A classroom like a laboratory rat's maze: a warren of impassable grates he needed to translocate through, an octagonal room where a band of baton-wielding dummies assaulted him from a higher sub-level, the brewing of an elixir with an accompanying voyage into a basement level stuffed with ingredients and myriad dangers, doors that required numerological passwords before drowning water filled the chamber, and a final challenge combining all the previous elements into one cohesive trial.

Once it was completed, Solomon came out breathing, yet oddly satisfied.

"Your desire is effective self-defense," said the Educator, when asked why. "This, you will not accomplish with mere superpower, no matter how magnificent. Power needs a strong will and adherent intellect to wield it, and that cannot spring from the Aspect! You are the Magician, Mr. Lancaster, but you're also a human. With it, comes a potential for violence, a potential like a firework! Bursting in a hundred directions in a wild efflorescence of harmful possibilities, contemporaneous with sorcery, yet never reliant on its dubitative nature! Inherent to every man, from a dutiful rifle-holding soldier to a caveman brutishly wielding a split stone against the lion assailing his cave! The might of trickery and the strength conferred by effort. Those things alone, are far more reliable than any conjuration or trick will ever be."

The Educator approached, handing Solomon a bottle of water, to quench thirst after the set of trials.

"You're not a warrior, that much is true. But a magician can still wield his art like a sword, and must, if they truly intend to bring destruction and lay waste to their enemies. To destroy means something more than merely pointing an index finger and firing off a red laser beam, Mr. Lancaster. This, too, I will teach you."

Soon, came the last Friday of October.

"Good morning, Freshmen," said the Educator at the beginning of their lesson, standing in the front with his cane tapping against the floor in a clear signal of the lesson's start, silencing whispers, laughs, and conversations. "Before we begin, a minor community service announcement: for Halloween this year, I'd love to have your Class with me on a field trip! The one and only of its kind, as next year, I am contemplating one of the rare twin Enrollments; one of them with a Theme of Gothic Horror. As we speak, the world of Pangothica, inchoate, is about to open its gates for the first time! An exciting and educational possibility, I implore each of you to consider this outing! Questions?"

There were only a couple, a few related to Pangothica and the excursion, and a couple about homework and upcoming assignments.

"Any predictions, Sol?" asked Harrison, casting a look back.

After the Educator's statement, Solomon had fallen victim to poor habit and started falling asleep, eyes fluttering to a close with a cheek supported by his arm. They snapped open at Harrison's question, with a renewal of excitement. "About the trip?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're the first person to ask me for a prediction, aside from Ms. Smith," he stated, with slight amazement.

"Ms. Smith?" Arching a brow, Harrison looked moderately confounded.

"A neighbor," Solomon explained saliently, waving a hand, and reminiscing about the woman - a young office worker who'd moved to New York in search of better career opportunities. "She's got a habit of getting into dangerous accidents, and I have a habit of pulling her out of them."

"Hope she's alright," muttered Harrison, thoughtfully.

"I left her a detailed note, she'll be fine," waved off Solomon, before taking a moment to think on Harrison's earlier question. "Anyway, not really... uhm, I think it'll be mostly unremarkable if entertaining? Like... uh... yeah, like, I can't see anything bad happening, so it seems it's an actual trip."

"Huh."

After class, which mostly consisted of a review of October's material, Solomon ventured into the library - even if with a heavy heart and lack of excitement for the short travel required - and claimed a couple of textbooks on summoning, shaping one's internal magical energies with resonant humming and chanting, and oneiric arts that could enhance one's sleeping. There, as Solomon withdrew from the stacks, a trio of pleasant-looking young men in beige jackets accosted him, approaching with fervid smiles.

"Hey, Freshie," said the one in the center, an elegant man with dark, slicked-back hair, a calculator in one pocket, holding and playing with a pen with unnaturally dextrous fingers, "A moment of your time?"

"The Librarian will get mad if we're too loud," countered Solomon.

"It's a non-issue," said the one on the left, a man with a voice as deep as the sea, a pin of a black upside-down cross on a white background, eyes confident and dark blue, like full sapphires. "We've had words."

Although dubious and without notice, Solomon didn't forecast any hostility from the men. Indeed, if anything, their Architectural prognosis and their general vibe seemed almost pastorally peaceful, as if avoidance of strife and discord were hallmark virtues they cultivated.

All four sat down at a table, three on one side, Solomon on his own.

"So?"

"We're the Apostles of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Messiah," said the man with the pin, completely straight-faced and utterly serious, with not even a shadowy hint of crooked comedy or sarcasm, "I am Peter."

"Matthew," said the one with the pen.

"Andrew," self-introduced the final one.

"Alright. I'm Solomon," said Solomon, producing a shrug of uncertainty as to what else to say. "What can I do for you?"

"It's reached our ear," started Matthew, before pausing with uncertainty and looking at his compatriots. There was a moment of discontinuation, a dip of breath, a visible cold calculation running through several heads, and a final terminus of concord on a hard decision.

"That you've been taking the Educator's remedial lessons?" finished Peter, nodding.

"I have. Why?"

"Ah, simply put, we'd like to know what he's teaching you," answered Peter with a widening smile. It was clear they'd received some tip-off, one that must've had a price tag attached, and they were happy it wasn't simply a dead end.

Frowning, Solomon contemplated. The Enrolled were opaque, real intentions difficult to reason out, motivations impossible to discern beyond a generic blur of advancing their own agenda. What was their game here? It didn't seem they already knew about the Architecture, or else they would've approached the situation differently. It seemed he was in control of the situation, advantaged by information they didn't have. Solomon pondered a second more, then answered, "Not sure if I should tell you, sorry."

"The Educator swore you to secrecy?" Matthew looked subtly off-put.

"He does that sometimes," added Andrew, explanatively. "It's never a serious or binding compact. If you tell us, you won't suffer consequences or harm. He's yet to expel a student in all of Enrollment history, even for a crime as serious as murder."

"Allow me to be more specific," said Solomon, raising a skeptical brow. "I am under no bondage, no magical pact to keep the Educator's secret. I'm simply not sure I can trust you with the information. Why do you even care?"

"Historically," answered Peter, raising an eyebrow in return, "Only a single student ever partook in those remedial lessons. And in a few months of activity, he'd perhaps accomplished more than many whole Themes managed over years. Influenced the world with casual measures. Bent its governments with a flick of the wrist. Oh, let the media say what they say, but the real truth is obvious to anyone who looks: not even Archetype's greatest could stop the Metaphysician. His downfall was either a conniving plot or an instance of deadly hubris."

"We'd like to cooperate with you, Solomon," continued Andrew, softly, almost sotto voce, leaning in. "Help you channel the power you'll wield to crafting good works. And in return, you'd help us with our own. All in endeavor to create a better world."

"We're also concerned," said Peter, a bit harder, like a rock. "About the danger you represent. If you're anything like the Metaphysician, you must be kept in check, or you might become a tyrant. We'd like assurances this won't occur. Tangible assurances. Claims of innocence and ethics mean little when untempted, especially at your current juncture; sin often does show itself in moments of weakness, and weakness most often occurs in the heart when it is overbalanced by strength outside of it. Power corrupts. That you might have sincerely good intentions, or even show total indifference to the world, means almost nothing when the future's in constant flux."

"Rest assured, we aren't pushing you for an answer right now. That'd amount to nothing more than a juvenile press-ganging," finished Matthew, rising from his chair. The others rose with him. "Take some time to consider it. Ask others about things we've accomplished. Assure yourself of our upstanding character through your own sources and make your determination. And meet us in this library."

"What if I refuse your offer?" asked Solomon out of curiosity. "Not the cooperation part, but to provide assurances?"

"If that were the case," said Peter, his eyes gleaming with a strange emotion cleaving close to ruthlessness, "we'd have to bring this higher up the chain of command."

The sentence was ominous, and it was the last of their words to him.

---

Simple and Good, carrying Arcanum and Destroyer up a level, won.

Will: 85
Credit: 5.8
XP: 75

Do you wish to participate in the Pangothica Field Trip?

[ ] Yes, Trip Time [-75 Will] - Benefits, if any, uncertain.
[ ] No, Don't Like Trips

Select a maximum of three Actions:

[ ] Classwork [-15 Will] - Standardized and individualized. At least a single action should be devoted to this each turn unless you wish to fall behind: more if you wish to excel.

-[ ] Standardized - Attend classes, turn in your homework on time, and prepare for the upcoming pop quizzes and tests. Learn Tarot history, mysticism, occult meanings, and more standard subjects! Modest advancement in your Enrollment.

-[ ] Individualized [-15 Will] - A set of more individualized one-on-one sessions with the Educator. The extra Will cost represents the effort spent on studying and cramming to earn these sessions. Awesome advancement in your Enrollment, as efficient as about 2.5 classes of standardized Education.

-[ ] Remedial Classwork - Almost no effort expended on Enrollment, if any.

[ ] Bonding [-5 Will] - Deepen your bond with a student or faculty member you know!
-[ ] Harrison
-[ ] Damien
-[ ] Penelope
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Interaction [-10 Will] - Attempt to make contacts with your upperclassmen. Gain social advantages and earn favors!
-[ ] Visit Judas [-15 Will] - Maybe you should visit Judas and learn more about the dispute that led to this?
-[ ] Investigate Apostles [-100 Will] - Full effort spent on investigating the Apostles who accosted you. Learn more about the players on the chessboard.
-[ ] Speak to Apostles [-5 Will] - Agree to, or deny their demands. If you'd like, you can instead ask them questions or interact normally.
--[ ] Agree
--[ ] Refuse
--[ ] Write-in

[ ] Exploration [-20 Will] - The Surveyors are looking for new members, although you don't have to be a member to get in on explorations. An exciting opportunity, as these worlds can hide arcane secrets that lead to furthering Enrollment, as well as the occasional artifact or potential ally. Many of these can be kept post-graduation.
-[ ] Join the Club - Commits a single action to Exploration, although at half the cost in Will. Leaving costs a variable amount of Will.

[ ] Decompression [+10 Will] - Default if nothing is selected. Just slack off.

[ ] Write-in

 

[Birdsie]

Pangothicon

A bulk of their Class attended the excursion, even recluses like Damien or Ryan. The Educator confidently led the way off the Academy grounds, cane clacking cheerfully on cobblestones in an even rhythm as he seemed to hum a faint, low marching song. It took a short stroll through the outlined thicket of woods surrounding the Academy to reach the border of the Educator's domain, the exact line where the Academy nominally became Fortuna, or a number of other worlds, depending on the particular layer a given Class inhabited. Instead of crossing the border, the Educator raised a hand to arrest the line of students following his trail.

"Ms. Parker," he called, with a vibrant tone, addressing their homeroom teacher. He energetically spun abaft. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Naturally, the young Fortune-Teller looked a little concerned and discomforted. "...What honors, if I can ask?"

"It's a simple thing, really!" A gloved, searching hand reached and rummaged amongst the inner pockets of his suit, and pulled out an implement like a mutated cousin of the pocket watch, made from some ephemeral golden metal that emanated subtle, wan light. It was almost obdurately thick with Architectural import, overflowing with crucial meaning, like one of the chief elements of the clockwork that comprised the universe. None but Solomon could sense its pivotal Role.

Still, the Educator, handling it as if the device were merely a storebought trinket from a streetside kiosk, dropped it carelessly in Ms. Parker's hesitant palm, and with an issuing finger, instructed: "The left hand controls Perspective, the right controls the World. Set the left for the star, and the right for the ankh."

After fiddling with the small clicking buttons on the side for a moment, Ms. Parker managed.

Immediately, the ambient levels of light fell, as the world ahead blurred into an indistinct nothing. After a second, like chiseled blocks sliding into allocated parking spaces at relativistic speed, entire sections of terrain came flashing in from the sides, below, and above, in a wild array of motions. Now, they beheld Pangothica, in all its horror.

Ahead of them stood a grim wrought iron gate, the spikes on it and the fence stretching from left to right like a row of spears. And beyond it, a world of mysterious dark-grassed valleys, mountains with cavernous secrets, and antediluvian forests bathed in lances of soft yellowish moonlight. A midsize settlement built over a river, its amber lights flickering beautifully through the night, could be seen faintly in the distance, amongst the wobbling evergreens.

"Wow," enunciated Sandra, the premier lover of the macabre, voice mellow and impressed with the sight. "That was so extra."

"Now," said the Educator, casually reclaiming his device and addressing the Class with a reproachful air, "in order to ensure our safety in an uncertain environment, I urge you to travel closely together! In fact, pair up!"

"We're not children, sir, we-" started to protest Isabella, only to be cut off mid-sentence by a sound. It was the sound of a branch snapping underfoot with a resounding crackle. Everyone, the Educator included looked at the source of the noise.

There, in the twilight of the bushes, stood a growling wolf-thing with a blood-caked snout, its eyes yellow like feverish sunlamps. It was hunched over on all fours, on almost digitigrade feet, yet the hints of manlike hands remained even with the claws scratching at the dirt. It emanated a climate of primal brutality and terror, sinking its claws in ways metaphorical and psychological. Even Solomon's psyche, reinforced as it was with a frugal protective amulet, bent under the strain like a door pushed on relentlessly until its hinges started to crack and it began to splinter out of its frame. No one could even think of running, primitive fight-or-flight instincts engaged in the beast's favor.

"Ah, most phenomenal, yes! This is exactly what I needed," said the Educator with profound delight, raising his cane, even as every student stood arrested in fear of drawing the beast's ire. The wolf continued to growl with menacing vehemency and approached slowly, with the steps of a predator about to feast lavishly on bountiful prey. Its eyes seemed to rove over them with stark intellect, as if picking out its first meal, and eventually closing on the Educator as a strange threat - unbowed by its alpha comportment.

"Pay attention, now! This creature here is a prime example of a specimen of the local lycanthrope - or in laymen's terms, a werewolf." He said that final word with a sort of hushed excitement as if the prospect of mere observation were a jovial scientific opportunity rather than a terrifying encounter with a ravenous beast. "A most fascinating etymology of that word, derived from the Greek lukanthropos, meaning wolf-man. There exists a correlation with the myth of Lycaon, the king of Arcadia chiefly recognized for slaying and cooking his own son, Nyctimus, as a meal to Zeus, in a bid to see whether a god could recognize the flavor of human flesh! As punishment, Lycaon was made into a wolf, and Nyctimus was resurrected: one of the rare few times, I'm sure we can all agree, where Zeus acted in a fairly reasonable fashion. I, too, would be extremely upset if served poorly seasoned human flesh!"

The Educator chuckled in good-natured humor. The werewolf's growl intensified with rapacity as it dashed forward and leaped with sufficient speed that Solomon almost couldn't track it. The Educator ducked, and his cornflower tophat remained cartoonishly hovering while the werewolf sailed overhead. He reached into the hat's bowels with superhuman alacrity to pull on a knife's handle and, as the lycanthrope whirled around with a second furious growl, slit its throat with almost perfunctory elegance. Miraculously, even as it burst, none of the blood dared stain his suit or glove. The instantly-dead werewolf dropped like an inanimate showpiece.

The Educator hummed with modest satisfaction, and returned the spotless knife - apparently silver-edged - back into the tophat, as the supernatural murk of fear abated.

"Now," he said, to Isabella, clapping his cane against the ground and mounting both hands firmly atop, "Ms. Adams, before my demonstration, I believe you were saying something about not being children?" He leaned forward curiously.

"U-Uhm," she stammered, and then grasped a mildly annoyed Noah by the arm, "L-Let's pair up, you guys..."

Solomon pondered how much of that was a fortunate accident, a deliberate setup by the Educator, or simply an Architectural kismet. A moment's contemplation yielded the answer the Educator probably didn't intend to make the werewolf appear, but stylishly took advantage of its presence while it was there.

"Now, for as long as we're here in Pangothica, I believe I should mention: our excursion isn't without educational value! Anyone who can turn in an essay by next Friday, outlining the connections and differences between your Theme and this world's, as well as any other interesting tidbits you'd learned, will receive extra credit!"

And like that, cheerfully, the Educator marched off down the valley.

"Hey, Penelope," said Solomon, nodding to the girl, slightly confused at being called out. "Pair?"

She looked momentarily around and noted most of the others were already paired or pairing, and a few of those who weren't stood further away than Solomon. She eventually shrugged and offered a slight smile. "Sure."

God bless the simple interactions of human beings, thought Solomon.

---

As you descend into Pangothica, you have a meager allotment of 5 Will, or a potential 20 to 35 if you choose to pivot from befriending Penelope to Decompression. Sadly, as a result of already pre-emptively starting your next set of Remedial Lessons as ahead of schedule as the Educator was willing to humor, that slot and Will are locked in!

If you desire to make such a pivot, add it as a write-in.

In the meantime!

Will: 5 / 20-35
Credit: 7.3
XP: 75

Here are your choices for the exciting opportunity of Pangothica! Make as many choices as you have the Will and Credit for! Careful to avoid the dreadful potential of burnout!

[ ] Essayism [5 Will] - Write an adequate essay. Earn 1 Student Credit.
-[ ] Great Essayism [10 Will] - Write a superb essay. Earn 2 Student Credit and 65% odds to unlock an extra Aspect with Gothic Horror Thematic influences!
--[ ] Grand Essayism [10 Will] - Write a beyond-superb essay. Earn 3 Student Credit and 100% odds to unlock an extra Aspect with Gothic Horror Thematic influences!

*Credit for each tier of Essayism doesn't stack. Each level is purchased separately.

[ ] Educational Exploration [15 Will] - Make a devotional study of the local Thematics, its correlations, its differences, and its overall telos. There's already some interesting commonalities you can spot when you squint: every other secret might compound for impressive possibilities.

Benefits:
*Discount Essayism by 5 Will per level and slightly improve the effects of each level.
*Gain 100-250 XP.

[ ] Architectural Exploration [20 Will, 7 Credit] - A fragment of you suspects there must be a deeper reason for Pangothica's existence, and it seems to bear a degree of connection to the Educator's strange clockwork device. Make observations with exceptional care, and perhaps ask him for guidance.

Benefits:
*Yield Architecturalism practice equivalent to taking on Remedial Classwork thrice.
*Improve the Connections Technique to Level 2.

[ ] Advanced Empowerment [50 Will, 12 Credit] - Ahead of you an entire world, the inchoate potential of its Thematics feeling like a freshly buried corpse. The Educator was right in many respects: you can learn so much from this excursion, if you look and think, or meditate and search for adventure. Somewhere in the center of this land, you can feel a presence calling out to you, like a welcoming voice... If you respond and reach out, you may be able to lay a claim to one of the miracles of this realm before its safeguards can fully rise.

Benefits:
*Gain at least 500 XP, potentially an explosively higher amount.
*Other, considerable benefits equivalent to a second such amount!

Warning:
*Potential high danger.

[ ] Explore Valleys [10 Will] - Beneath you, in these forested valleys, your insight into the Architecture tells you of hidden glades full of adventure and power. You're bored, so why not explore a little?

Benefits:
*Gain 80-160 XP.
*Other, uncertain benefits.

Warning:
*Moderate danger.

[ ] Find Apprentices [15 Will, 7 Credit] - According to the Educator's laydown of the area, there are at least dime-a-dozen cults here, worshipping different ephemera, vampiric lords, and eldritch gods. If you're willing to put in a little elbow grease, you could potentially find yourself a couple of disciples: or, for even more Will, an entire cabal!

Benefits:
*Allows you to recruit disciples from amongst a number of magic-capable local groups: power and danger level depends on further Will expenditures and choices. The Educator, in return for some of your credit and wish leeway, will prepare quarters for them, and potentially let you take them with you post-graduation.

Warning:
*Very minor danger.

[ ] Find Artifacts [15 Will] - With a combination of divination, stealth spells, and your (admittedly lackluster) thieving skills, nab some eldritch artifacts and tomes from secret libraries, workshops, and necromantic tombs.

Benefits:
*A bunch of cool stuff. You get to pick from a cornucopia of promising items.

[ ] Write-in - Other opportunities abound! Ask and find out.

 

[Birdsie]

Pangothicon (Empowerment)

Not advanced empowerment, yet. We'll tackle that next chapter.

Choose a new Aspect to incorporate:

[ ] Aspect: Eldritch - Inside of your meager form, an elder power has taken root: research into the forbidden finally bearing fruit as a cohabitator from beyond our stars. The Aspect manifests primarily as a symbiote within the Enrolled's body, an existence that slowly congeals into more dangerous, intelligent, and independent alignments. It feeds off of the Enrolled's mentality and brainwaves, absorbing foremost their least flattering traits. Its presence within the body confers baseline physical benefits: improved condition, accelerated healing, and even rapid restoration of blood. In return, as wounds accumulate, the Enrolled's inhuman truth is revealed, and the symbiote gains more control.

Its Techniques manifest foremost as spellcasting assistance: it can form extrusions that act as capable familiars, enhance the Enrolled's casting reserves, or more crudely, as offensive and defensive tendrils.

[ ] Aspect: Vision - The Eyes That See Dark Truths, an artifact of Gothic provenance and immense Thematic influence, is woven into an Aspect. It metamorphoses the Enrolled's eyeballs into starlike ponds, as black as the cosmic void, with enthralling pinpricks of variegated starlight. Prolonged eye contact produces fascination, eventually developing into suggestive states. Effort channels insanity and madness through the eyes. Passively, they grant enhanced awareness of abstract concepts and ideas with a negative valence: weaknesses, addictions, horrifying secrets, and above everything, dark truths.

Its Techniques allow for the deployment of more permissive madness, as well as improved control: temporary states, instead of permanent breakage; even channeling specific manners of psychic shattering to inflict amnesia, aphasia, dysmetria, and similar conditions.

[ ] Aspect: Transgression - A superficial guise of humanity concealing moral turpitude and depravity, stemming from an ultimately inhuman nature. In transgression beyond moral limits, strength. As the Aspect's level increases over time, so does your despair and vulnerability diminish, improving the effects and gathering of Will, until you resemble a being of average motivational capability. However, you're also blithely accepting a slow degradation of your moral faculties, every step further down an invitation to continue down the dark path.

Its Techniques center around enhanced charisma, the spread of deviance and corruption, and instincts for inflicting lawlessness on nations and causing the dissolution of social mechanisms in groups.

[ ] Write-in (12 Credit)

The new Aspect will not be available immediately. It'll be inculcated during your next set of classes with the Educator.

Furthermore, you can select two (2) of the following artifacts:

[ ] Red Athame - Found in a cultist's atelier, any cuts made with this crimson-gripped athame do not bleed naturally, instead producing an outpouring of scarlet flame. Its sensation is agonizing, an overwhelming assault on the senses; capable of rendering even the most powerful men insensate with utter torment. The magus responsible for dealing the cut can psychically direct the flame, stoking further injury or assaulting the foe's allies. Flames are fed by blood; inoperational on non-hematopoietic organisms.

It seems to have at least several other properties you have not discovered yet.

[ ] The Necronomicon - Or a workable copy of the original, at least. It contains over a hundred pages, each one inscribed with tidbits of forbidden lore: summoning invocations for eldritch monsters, binding sigils and alchemical procedures for dealing with and controlling the same, and a cornucopia of surprisingly innocuous and non-malevolent spells, ranging from a one-phrase incantation that shoots forth a bolt of dissolving acid to a dance that creates a field of impassable mud.

It doesn't inflict madness, as it seems the cognitohazardous sections were ripped out by one of the previous owners.

[ ] The Spirit Lantern - A metal-and-glass lantern with a hovering azure wisp locked within; the form of an ancient spirit, now made into a flashlight that shines on your way. It can speak to spiritually sensitive individuals within its vicinity, and whispers to you, introducing itself as Frederick von Zonenzarzern. It'll attempt to cajole and convince you to release its seal with a plethora of rhetorical machinations: something your divinations inform you would be unwise.

Its presence strikes absolute fear into spirits lesser than itself, and can even induce a mild, creeping doubt that mounts over time into peers. Furthermore, its light can be released in order to progressively inflict ruin and harm on those same entities, and it can be tapped for energy in a pinch. It also repels mosquitoes.

[ ] The Revolver - A six-shooter embossed with unrecognizable sigils. As long as the shooter says the words, "I deliver your retribution in steel," before squeezing the trigger, a nearly unbreakable mental effect will compel the target to stand still. Furthermore, it contains six magical rounds that contain the weaknesses of every supernatural creature imaginable, from blood-drinking vampires to howling werewolves to vile magicians, and even the Enrolled. However, nothing can restore the rounds once they are spent, unless you learn to manufacture extra.

[ ] The Brass Cube - A rather literal mystery box: six-sided and made of brass, each side demarcated into three sections, each with its own glowing seal. It has stubbornly refused even your most thorough divinations, and so you've not the faintest clue what its contents may be.

---

Will: 25
Credit: 4.1
XP: 1,640+

 

[Birdsie]

Pangothicon (pt. 2)

After a short lecture on the Gothic environment and its threats, as well as the nature of the Theme, the Educator and Class stood in the middle of a broad avenue on the edge of Huron, the eerie settlement. Smiling, the Educator discharged the Class to explore and meet back in front of the Academy in six hours. He then strode away, cane clacking cheerfully on the cobblestones, leaving the hapless youths with no guidance save the desperate voice of Ms. Parker, who failed to elicit obedience.

It took a little convincing and even a bit of self-rationalization, but Solomon managed to sway Penelope to assist him in a deed usually perceived as most foul.

Robbery.

A saunter across the sanctums and dens of the provincial occultists ensued - crude ramshackle wards disassembled like a ribbon undone on unexpecting gift wrapping - and soon resulted in a trove of barely-magical garbage, as well as an armful of artifacts with true power. A book of forbidden secrets thieved from a collector of eldritch relics, an athame from a reckless cultist's atelier, and a revolver from the attic of a family whose progenitor was a hunter of supernatural beasts.

After that, research. Apathetic to effort even on a good day, nonetheless Solomon felt compelled to pen a competent essay. That couldn't be done without at least some attention and examination. He spoke with Penelope as they walked through the forests, curiosity drawn out with the benefits of exploration shown.

"Any similarities to Fortuna?"

"Not a lot," she said. "Fortuna's basically Europe, right down to the shape of the continent."

He took a second to imagine that. "Only Europe? What about the rest of the world?"

"Dissolves into pale mist, the further you go away from the center. Any who wander into it are lost," she said, sounding as if reciting a second-hand account. "Aside from that, we haven't explored much of it yet. It's mostly politics and medieval fiefdoms bickering with each other, so you'd probably hate it."

"Hrm."

"I've been contemplating writing that essay," she said as a change of topic.

"About what?"

"Don't know yet."

"Hmm." Solomon already had a couple of ideas, although only a few of them were grounded in anything truly substantial. It seemed that analyzing the correspondences between Themes was simultaneously a low-hanging and relatively flavorful fruit. "Well, I'll let you know if I come up with something solid. I've got a couple of ideas, but none that I really like. I'm not against letting people borrow my ideas, assuming they're at least willing to listen to me when I speak."

She cocked her head to the side. "You don't feel listened to?"

"Not really."

"Why? I believe you, that you can see the future."

He raised an eyebrow. "That belief's really spread around, huh?"

"Well, you've been going to 'remedial lessons.' Whatever that is. I assure you no one else has that, so, yeah, a lot of people are wondering what's up with you," she said, letting out a slight snort. "If you need someone to hear you out, I've got an open ear."

"Thanks," he said, strangely gratified. It wasn't only Harrison, then? Had the Educator's seminars paid off more substantial dividents than initially believed?

Then, a shudder radiated through the world; manifestly dark and alluring, a call like a siren's song in the benthic depths, dragging you deeper. A convulsion of its every facet, from the somber blades of grass to fluttering leaves on bifurcating branches. A wind came soon after, cold and full of mystery.

It'd been there ever since Solomon entered Pangothica, now intensified.

"Did you feel that?" asked Solomon.

"Yeah. A creepy feeling on my spine."

"It's at the center of this place. This... region," he said. And then, adventurously, with a slight smile, "Wanna check it out?"

"Seems dangerous," she commented, casually, with a veneer of unconcern. An indifference that masked worry, not necessarily about herself, but about Solomon, as if making sure that he was certain about doing something dumb.

"So's Enrollment."

She hummed in agreement. "Let's check it out, then."

It wasn't off by even half an hour on foot, or so, according to a simple divination that Solomon cast with a muttered invocation. It was, however, a laborious and unwelcome trek: an uphill climb and then a procession down a valley and then up yet another hill. Through a couple of flatlands and meadows, even a farm with creepy scarecrows in the stretching fields of navel-tall moon-cast wheat. It looked abandoned, the side of the red-white barn scratched by some massive beast, the house's windows shattered. They decided not to linger. Those scarecrows had almost too intense of a stare to them.

They encountered a forest, one that emanated malice: blood-soaked roots, crimson and knurled like dry veins sapping vitality from the earth, leaves shimmering ethereally azure in the air like a dark reflection of some fairytale. In the darkness cast by obscuring shoots and boughs, the trunks of the trees seemed to have baleful faces with jagged teeth and terrible, soul-draining eyes. And yet, none of this darkness bothered them, malevolence parting like a sea before a prophet, as if welcoming them deeper in. Solomon's stomach churned. He couldn't predict whether this was an auspicious occurrence or not. The amulet about his neck shook and trembled worryingly.

They emerged in a grove at a mountainside, its distant peak covered with mysterious, fuzzy evergreens and a cap of snow and frost, surrounded on every side by serrated crags and steep inclines of rock, moonlit and stark. Here, within the depths of the mountain, somewhere in the underbelly, he sensed an ancient wellspring.

It was a location where the eerie chaos of the outer cosmos descended and formed into an abnormal leyline that collected itself underneath the geographical feature of the mountain, drawn ever further upwards through vile murders and dark deeds performed at its base over the centuries. He could discern these grim truths easily, as each came in visions and states of mind without prompting: the elder power offering its secrets without duplicity or reticence. It formed a reservoir down there, a nightly pond that now threatened to spill out during moments of celestial convergence and birth madness into the world.

It'd form the embryonic nucleus of an entity - in several weeks or months. It'd need time to metamorphose even after that and create an elementary identity from its amorphous bulk. However, in due time, the entity would become a potentially colossal, world-ending threat: something the Gothic Class may well have to deal with in time.

And yet, almost rivetingly, Solomon could feel the clarifying lens of his inner genius turning outward with a scrutinizing eye, a filament coming alight within the mind to illuminate every thought - as the Magician devised a new idea from the purifying flames of entirely formless Thematics.

The Magician was about applying human resourcefulness, and Solomon had every tool needed at his disposal to make the most of this precious opportunity: chalk and the ability to procure more, the memorized contents of a bookshelf's worth of occult tomes, and the lucid acumen that foresaw any errors. More than anything, he possessed the Necronomicon, the contents of which had a ritual sketched out specifically for an occurrence such as this. This wasn't a threat to the world, or at least it didn't have to be. Instead, it could be turned into a tremendous opportunity. Here, there was only hubris for someone who didn't understand their own capabilities.

And Solomon did, casting a gaze into the skein of possibility, and untangling a single thread from its confusing tangle.

---

Will: 25
Credit: 5.7
XP: 1,855

It'll take time, it'll take effort, and it'll take ingenuity - but you earnestly believe with your Education, you can accomplish the draining of this small ley. You're lucky that its contents are relatively undeveloped, and the volume itself relatively small, as otherwise you could've had trouble with it!

It wouldn't take you significant effort to convince Penelope to aid you with this insane proposal, as you're able to strike all the right chords of pursuing strength with her in a short exchange of dialogue - it was accounted for in the Will expenditure.

Choose your Advanced Empowerment:

[ ] Absorption - A common saying among the world's Enrolled villains forewarns of the hubris in absorbing an energy field bigger than one's own head. How can you then act so confident, when you're about to do that to an energy field bigger than your own house? It's simple: you're built different.

*Absorb the wellspring. Gain 2,000-3,000 XP (variable, random.) This XP counts as doubled if spent on Eldritch.
*75% chance to unlock Eldritch (Level 1) for an hour, after which your symbiote will enter hibernation until you actually purchase the Aspect.

[ ] Distribution - However, you aren't the only individual here, and needn't be the sole beneficiary! After explaining the mechanisms of the ritual and permitting her a look into your charts, convince Penelope this is a safe procedure and she ought to partake.

*Absorb the wellspring into yourself and Penelope. Both of you gain 1,500-2,250 XP (variable, random.) This XP counts as double if spent on Eldritch / Seraph.
*75% chance to unlock Eldritch / Seraph (Level 1) for an hour, after which your symbiote and Penelope's grace enter hibernation until you actually purchase the Aspects. Your chances are separate, therefore the odds that at least one of you gets an immediate benefit is doubled relative to Absorption.

[ ] Storage - Instead, ritualistically store the contents of the wellspring in a purified container. As a result, you'll be able to use it later to terrifying effect, either to empower yourself as above, to create an artifact, or for a myriad of other purposes.

*Acquire: Eldritch Flask.

[ ] Eldritch Immersion [30 Will, 12 Credit] - Why absorb mere potential? Force the power out into the candid light. The Rite of Absorption, mighty as it may be, is only a gross and lesser reflection of the ritual that offers real power. Complete the Rite of Eldritch Immersion, as described on page one hundred and six of the Necronomicon.

A complicated and inherently unstable ritual, entwining the essence of the wellspring more completely with your spirit. Combined with your expenditure on Advanced Empowerment, it'll require altogether twenty-four Credit to produce the ingenuity of thought to come up with a reliable stabilizing schema.

*Gain 10,000 XP. This XP counts as doubled if spent on Eldritch or Arcanum.
*Gain Aspect: Eldritch (Level 4) immediately.
*Discount Eldritch (Level 5) by 50%.
*Develop an Eldritch Technique of your choice at Level 2 immediately, and another at Level 1.
*Become the strongest first-year.

[ ] Angelic Immersion [25 Will, 10 Credit] - And yet... inherent to your nature is the mentorship of another, not the assumption of a central role. Much as the Hermit shines with a lantern to guide the way, the Magician shows the secrets of the Arcana to its clients.

Better yet, you'll have many excuses to slack off as a result and demand favors from the one empowered instead of yourself...

*Penelope gains 15,000 XP. This XP counts as doubled if spent on Seraph, Truthseeker, or Lawbringer.
*Penelope gains Aspect: Seraph (Level 4) immediately.
*Penelope discounts Seraph (Level 5) by 75%.
*Penelope develops two Seraph Techniques of her choice at Level 2 immediately.
*Penelope isn't dumb enough to turn down cosmic power. It may be at least partially desperation that drives her to accept, but she wouldn't do this without some trust.
*Penelope will become the strongest first-year.
*She'll be profusely thankful for your aid in smacking down the Engine. +++Penelope.
*This is blatant simping.
*Furthermore, because this is in tune with your Role, you gain 250 XP.

 

[Birdsie]

Ameliorata

A sigil circle took almost a full hour to draw, sketched out with a mixture of manifested and subsequently melted-down silver and a sacrifice of several drops of blood from him and Penelope. It created a containment field meant to focus the drawn energy and stabilize it, making it consumable rather than corruptive.

After that, it was smooth sailing, as the Necronomicon expedited the otherwise-glacial formation of the rite's magical components, as Solomon found the seals within excelled at manipulating this sort of eldritch energy, especially in causing repulsion. He struggled most with creating the siphoning element but soon faced a breakthrough.

"And you're sure this is safe?"

"Yes," he said with a confident nod. "Worst case scenario, it'll cause the mountain to implode."

She flattened her lips.

"You're a bit crazy," she accused, devoid of fervor or even her near-characteristic solemnity.

"Almost every Enrolled is at least a little bit crazy."

She didn't answer immediately.

"I suppose you're right."

"I won't tell you how to invest your allotment," he said, already striding off in the ritual circle's direction and beginning the preliminary invocations to rouse the eldritch pool within the underground reservoir, "But I recommend not overlooking your eyeballs. That Truthseeker Aspect could be useful."

"Hrm." Penelope followed.

---

An overview of Solomon's present capabilities:

Combination (Aspectless/Arcanum) Technique: Connections 1 - Can see connective strands between an owned deck of tarot cards and Enrolled, can track by following.

Aspect: Sanctum: 0 - n/a

Aspect: Arcanum: 2 - About on par with a mid-level non-Enrolled wizard, you can form effects that can deal with a number of modest issues, can make magic items, and brew potions of minor effect. Compare D&D Level 5/6 Wizard/Sorcerer + crafting feats.

• Arcanum Technique: Comfort's Embrace: 2 - Array of static magics that increases comfort and quality of life. Generate an extra 5 Will each turn.
• Arcanum Technique: Idle Study: 2 - Array of static magics that cross-correlates contents of the mind revolving on the concept of the Magician on a second, subconscious track. Grants 10 XP per turn, multiplied 1x for each Decompression taken on that turn (3x Decompression = 40 XP).

Aspect: Hermes the Destroyer: 1 - Can fight about on-level with a trained adult human equipped with a longbow, or destroy surroundings with entropic energy. Can enhance other spells, or substitute thaumaturgical energy with destructive energy. Better maintenance/sustain than Arcanum.

Aspect: Eldritch: 5 - A developed symbiotic organism; intellect, acuity, and emotional maturity of a young human. It enhances your overall physical condition to ninefold the level of a peak-human. Boosts resilience, durability, and stamina even further beyond; capable of shrugging off even penetrative or explosive small-arms fire, and weathering even a flamethrower with nothing more than mild discomfort: heavy ordnance is required to cause you harm. Accelerated healing and survivability, restoring from dealt injuries, especially cuts and penetration, at slightly over 5x speed. If damaged too extensively, symbiote can wrest partial control over the body.

---

For simplicity's sake, have a breakdown of the features of Eldritch 6, 7, 8, relative to your current Level.

Eldritch 6
Symbiote Mental: A somewhat-mature young human
Physical Condition: 12x peak-human
Durability: Ignore penetrative or explosive small-arms fire, weather laserfire with mild discomfort; even heavy ordnance (25mm caliber) mostly bruises on direct hits
Healing Factor: 6.5x speed
Symbiote Control: If damage exceeds levels normally lethal for a human, symbiote can exert a maximum of 65% control

Eldritch 7
Symbiote Mental: A mature, young adult human
Physical Condition: 16x peak-human
Durability: Ignore magical anti-material rifle fire, endure concentrated bombardment with .50 BMG and 20mm rounds, survive a direct headshot from a tank gun
Healing Factor: 8x speed
Symbiote Control: If damage exceeds levels normally lethal for a human, symbiote can exert a maximum of 60% control

Eldritch 8
Symbiote Mental: Adult human
Physical Condition: 25x peak-human; a single casual punch means certain, instant death for an armor-clad human hiding from you behind a brick wall
Durability: Ignore .50 BMG and nearby grenade explosions, endure a near-limitless amount of tank fire; realistically, requires magical means or mass artillery to properly harm
Healing Factor: 15x speed
Symbiote Control: If damage exceeds levels normally lethal for a human, symbiote can exert a maximum of 50% control

Here, you'll find some sample builds and projected power - feel free to invent your own:

---

[ ] Eldritch Overlord

Aspects: Eldritch 8, Arcanum 6, Destroyer 3, Sanctum 3.
Techniques: None (+4 free Eldritch)
+ your other current Techniques

XP Leftover: 1,940, making the elevation of Destroyer or Sanctum to IV a trivial effort

*Immense endurance, stupendous strength and speed - can physically outfight most second-years and a sizeable chunk of third-years
*Elevated Sanctum with appropriate enchantments (especially with specialized Techniques) makes for an extremely good retreat, allowing you to recover even faster
*Eldritch Techniques can provide a moderate quantity of spellcasting improvements, making the lesser Arcanum Level a slightly less painful choice
*A couple choice Destroyer Techniques can be funneled into even further improving your melee capabilities, or further abrading incoming attacks as a proactive defense
*Can with minimal effort and work over 2-3 turns catalyze a Sanctum existing within your symbiote, requiring its temporary unfolding from within; portable workshop
*Degenerate path of muscle wizardry, with only minimal focus on spellcasting
*Alternatively, you can pick up Arcane Focus with Devoted: Cup / Pentacle, to supplement your physical capabilities further, at a cost of 7 Credit

[ ] Esoteric Ravager [7 Credit]

Aspects: Arcanum 7, Eldritch 6, Destroyer 5, Sanctum 2
Techniques:
[Arcanum] Arcane Focus 4 (Devoted: Sword)
(+4 free Eldritch)
+ your other current Techniques

XP Leftover: 439

*Extreme focus on magic, the Eldritch Techniques can act as further channeling aids
*Effective combat-relevant Aspect Level is ~8.5, making you a rare sort of combat monster
*Although not yet as extreme as its higher levels, Arcane Focus 4 with Sword has impressive amounts of versatility, metamagic, and anti-magical capabilities
*Impressive destructive capabilities: summon a storm to destroy a town and flood it, send in djinni to pick over the remnants
*You'll dominate the field of wizard duels
*Can easily pivot to any other Arcane Focus, if you'd rather focus on a different sort of combat potential
+ your other current Techniques

[ ] Wizard's Tower [7 Credit]

Aspects: Arcanum 7, Eldritch 7, Sanctum 4, Destroyer 3
Techniques:
[Arcanum] Arcane Focus 3 (Devoted: Sword)
[Sanctum] Dimensional Sanctum 2
(+4 free Eldritch)
+ your other current Techniques

XP Leftover: 156

*An incredible all-rounder
*It does lag behind in effective combat power moderately, but has much increased overall safety and diversity
*Versatile and strong in almost every discipline, and capable of ferrying around a hyperbolically enclosed Sanctum for semi-swift field deployment
*The Dimensional Sanctum Technique will need some investment before you can use it relevantly in combat, but preparation time helps
*As usual, Eldritch Techniques can be utilized to heighten your Arcanum's capabilities and fill out any holes in the build

[ ] Penultimate Sloth

Aspects: Arcanum 7, Eldritch 6, Sanctum 5, Destroyer 1
Techniques:
[Arcanum] Comfort's Embrace 7, Idle Study 6
(+4 free Eldritch)
+ your other current Techniques

XP Leftover: 739

*A combination of safety and comfort; Arcanum grants versatility and sufficient combat strength to prevail, Eldritch physically protects you
*Sanctum gives you an unparalleled hiding spot that can be used to conduct all sorts of rituals; you're difficult to contest within
*An insanely potent combination of Comfort's Embrace 7 and Idle Study 6 generates an extra minimum of +30 Will and 30 XP per turn, with XP increased to a maximum of 120 if you do nothing but Decompress on a given turn (for a total of +75 Will and 120 XP for nothing but slacking off, letting you rapidly regenerate your stores)
*Over 5,000 XP spent on your idle bullshit Techniques might be too much, especially since your current discount will remain around for at least a year
*On the other hand, the Will and XP generation means you can sustain a constant cycle of rest and work, taking one turn of full Decompression and then one of Full Classwork, maintaining perennially impressive XP gains and yet accumulating a net positive sum of Will into your tanks for future, unpredictable expenditures

[ ] Write-in

---

Will: 35
Credit: 6.9
XP: 29,355

Author's Note: As a result of multiple requests, as well as the author's own belief this is beneficial, a moratorium on voting shall apply for two (2) hours.

 

[Birdsie]

Ameliorata (pt. 2)

After several minutes of stringent incantation and motions of shaping, the moment to decide came at last. Solomon felt a strange and uncharacteristic thrill of fear and excitement, as the future was rife with possibilities and dangers, most of them impossible to navigate save through luck: a heavy cloud of potential obscured his eyes, every path in constant flux. This action - this eldritch Rite of Absorption - was unequivocally the most meaningful and impactful thing he'd ever accomplished.

Closing his eyes, he concluded the rite's invocation with a syllable of finality, sealing their fates and waging them on the pyre of ambition.

From there, a feeling overwhelmed him and Penelope, a stomach-churning and unsettling horripilation, as if one had done something unthinkably wrong and misguided. It reached out - a massive intangible tendril of something that might've been an eldritch deity if allowed to evolve beyond the cradle of its yolk - and speared into their souls.

Like an industrial pipeline or a dual umbilical cord, it fed its mass into them, inhuman darkness entering human spirits. In any other situation, it would've mercilessly hollowed them out like a reveler pitting out a defenseless pumpkin: elemental chaos of the universe overwhelming foolish man, as punishment for hubris.

Here, with the scaffolding of Enrollment to act as a channel, it was different.

It felt like a sublime shattering, a cascade of discoveries that cracked the contour of individuality and would've driven them insane if not for the innovative vanguard of protections made beforehand: the humanizing and controlling effect of the Magician diffracting unearthly insights through a lens that swelled with new volume to encompass whole new trees of possibility. His knees shook, mind inflating like a cosmic supernova.

It felt almost as though Solomon's Aspects were gateways, and through the cave of endless potential streamed crowds made up of individual pellets of unrefined power, for him to direct like an orchestra conductor. Thinking fast on his feet, he split the streams; ponderous and struck with a cerebral analogue of fever, yet still attentive enough to optimize reasonably well. Outside of his control, one of them wilfully formed into an entirely new mass, one borne of discoveries derived from this anomalous ritual and dark world: a nearly sentient, pestilent influence within his soul, an outsider lodged within.

As if to match the event inside the spirit, within the physical world, a chest-throbbing cancer bloomed within Solomon's heart, a deadly eldritch sickness, tar-black tendrils creeping across the chambers and spreading darkness alongside crimson erythrocytes. He felt an aching sensation in every limb as it spread.

For seconds, he feared miscalculation; an infection of his body by the reservoir, a demonic possession that'd result in death or something worse.

Then Enrollment reached out and shone with a crystalline light, a stained-shadow not-radiance that wrested the parasite into an Aspect of itself. He burst out laughing as the ache became a blissful sensation, the symbiotic tendril now connected and piggybacking off his cerebellum sputtering out confusion at its new, intellective existence.

At Solomon's side, he saw Penelope uplifted with unearthly radiance, a celestial light that sang a hymn of disapproval at perceiving imperfection within reality. Her eyes glowed white like lightbulbs, and the back of her blouse ripped open to reveal an angel's majestic wings, small and immature, yet rapidly expanding and sprouting feathers.

His every mental element flashed with a sudden warning, predicting folly, as the Architecture finally resettled.

Ahead of them, the mountain shook and crumbled, entire facets of its mass falling down in a rocky avalanche. Solomon swung a hand and found the spell coming easily, simple will and desire formed into effect, a kinetic wave splitting the stonefall and dispelling the powder. He beheld the consequences of their ritual within moments, each one coming and threading into the next, thought accelerated beyond his previously mortal wits, almost difficult to accustom to. Nonetheless, he was forced to do it fast, shooting down a rain of rocks and boulders, as Penelope concluded the last stage of her metamorphosis: seraphic halo exploding with pale, wan light.

Tendrils as black as the midnight sky and as thick as the trunks of trees reached upwards like ribbons flung by a vent's exhaust, then set themselves levelly against the earth, before pushing with earthshaking force, slowly disgorging a mass almost as large as the mountain itself from the cavernous depths of the newfound quarry, a being coated in dark tar, overflowing with the substance like a grisly meatball. Its surface rippled with unnatural jaundiced eyes, each one swiveling to curiously drink in the world's vistas.

"I might've fucked up a little," admitted Solomon, words he assumed weren't the sort you wanted to hear from a wizard. "I sorta didn't predict the existence of a secondary, smaller reservoir."

It seemed the rite had awoken the secondary layer of eldritch matter, conferring rudimentary ensoulment, and subsequently caused it to absorb some of the primary reserve in a dismal reflection of their own action. The curse of above and below. His fundamental sense of destiny whispered of fates unfolding, that his or anyone else's attempts to stifle this being's further expansion wouldn't meet a lot of success, absorbing it was utterly in vain, and slaying it before the passage of a year at minimum was a nigh-impossible dream. That meant sealing it away or sending it down to slumber was the only recourse. As distasteful as it was, it seemed their juniors would have to clean it up.

Penelope's eyes widened. "Shit, Solomon, watch out!"

She cast out an aegis of pale heavenly light, a dividing miracle like a shield and a sword in unison, and cut a massive tentacle down the middle as it came. Its sides fell around them, the interior seamlessly cauterized, yet revealing hints of organs and chittering, animate veins.

In one moment of contemplation, he predicted six tracks of conversation. There was no convincing Penelope to abandon this monstrosity and allow it to feast on some unlucky Gothic villages. Even if there was, embers of guilt ate away at his heart still, from the memories of what inaction had resulted in last time.

They'd need to seal it away. Within moments, a plan of action was assembled.

"I'll draw a sealing array north of here," he promptly informed. "It's stupid but not senseless. If you hurt it, you should be able to guide it."

She nodded and looked skyward, at a firmament full of stars now shining with attention, as if looking down from above and judging their every move. After a second of focused contemplation, a single bat of the wings carried her over a hundred yards up. A second flapping motion swerved her off to the side, to avoid a diagonal tendril.

The Eldritch symbiote chimed with danger sense, a fuzz of warning around the edges of his consciousness. Solomon translocated to avoid a similar attack, its aftermath leaving a crater-divot as deep as a house, then moved once more, as swift as the wind, orthogonal to the creature's emergence point.

The symbiote now inhabiting Solomon's central nervous system and skeleton, spreading its essence through his circulatory system, enhanced every action - a potentiall premature estimate ranked his capabilities as around fifteen or sixteen times those of an adult peak-human male. He felt a corybantic euphoria, an exuberant and triumphant delight at being able to sprint almost half as fast as sound, a physical exercise that seemed easy and satisfying. He almost lost himself before a fuzz of warning made him swivel around and dodge a tentacle the size of a superlative coast redwood, dashing on through the space it would've fallen on with a surge of compressed, fluid wind.

After sprinting for almost a full kilometer, he surprisingly bumped into a shocked, wide-eyed Damien, who'd been running at a fraction of Solomon's own velocity in the opposite direction. They stared at each other for a second, neither sanguine about the situation nor seemingly certain about what to say.

"Solomon, what the fu-"

"Damien, I need you-"

A mutual interruption. Seeing Damien's reticence to speak again, Solomon continued, "I need you to help me. We've released a monster."

The Monster Beneath the Mountain, as Solomon was starting to call it mentally, had mostly extricated itself from its spawning pool now, and was crawling along the earth at a giant snail's pace, sedate if not for the ongoing battle with an archangel happening overhead.

It shot impaling tendrils and the occasional creatic spur of incarnadine bone at Penelope, who weaved around the attacks and replied with lances of sanctifying light; a lone and determined star battling an uncaring alien cosmos. It opened a dismal mouth full of crooked teeth, unleashing a terrifying but mundane roar of an emotion recognizable as anger. In response, she raised both of her arms and collected the light, as for a single instant, every photon in the radius of three leagues rushed into her hands. The resulting headache-bright orb was like a sun in miniature, casting everything with dusty, faded light: almost certainly seen for miles around.

He sensed Justice manifest, as she declared an edict that radiated across reality, hammering its own truth and asserting its supremacy over base matter, a feeling undeniable and materializing its noumenal content in every strand of thought. The edict ordered it back to slumber eternal.

She charged the photonic blast for a second more, and siphoned the miraculous power of her own mantle to empower it - then, mercilessly eyeing the now-unmoving creature, threw down the obliterating light, like a perforating thermobaric blast that almost certainly could've erased a city district.

And by the time the light settled down, all they perceived was a mass of stilled echinuliform clumps, individual tendrils still half-twitching with remnant animation; crispy or smoking depending on the preceding level of proximity to the monster's center mass.

"Nevermind," said Solomon, with blatant, unconcealed shock, as he perceived destiny's previous statements wipe themselves away, and the Architecture shift to accommodate the existence of the new world that Penelope had created. "I- I think we're good."

After a couple of moments assessing the destruction she'd wrought, Penelope dipped low, dove across the sky and promptly landed next to them, all twelve cloud-feathered wings fluttering with an apparent mixture of agitation and fatigue. She let out a deep sigh, looked at them, and experienced some kind of eye-opening revelation.

"Sorry about that, Sol," she said apologetically. "I don't know if you had any plans for it. Damn thing pissed me off with that roar. I wasn't thinking. Got a bit drunk on all the new power, I guess."

"No, it's... alright," said Solomon with slow and careful words, strangely acute in newfound awareness of how eminently he was in all-annihilating light-beaming range.

"It's not actually," said Damien, full of alarm and simultaneous indignation, "I have witnessed Yog-Sothoth explode. Either of you care to explain just what the fuck?"

"I did a ritual," said Solomon lamely.

"That doesn't even begin to explain just what the fuck, Solomon."

"He empowered us with a ritual," said Penelope. "And accidentally woke up a monster."

"That's a little better!"

She nodded.

"Anyway, we should return to the Academy, before half the countryside comes to investigate."

"Good idea," said Solomon. "We can explain more on the way there."

---

Somewhere in a castle on the horizon, a confused and slightly blood-drunk Lord Dracula the Third pondered the most strange disappearance of an entire mountain - he could almost swear it'd been there. He looked outside the same window right before he departed to celebrate among the peasants and partake in the night's festivities.

And then suddenly the torches had grown dimmer, the earth shook with tremors, and there was an unexplained luminescence across the sky. It cut the festivities short, as more peasants from the local villages came swarming in for shelter behind the walls.

"My Lord," said a pale-faced ghoul servant, entering the chamber with a bow. "I came to inform you, that the people request your permission to assemble and send out a team of scouts to investigate the reports of an, ah... 'monster explosion' over in Buffayette county."

"They must have amnesia," he replied with a snort, "They forgot that I'm him. Fine, send them out."

---

Good news, Penelope saved you from an otherwise atrocious and wholly inadequate sealing attempt!

Anyway, now that you've made it out, you should contemplate what you'll tell everyone on return:

[ ] Full Disclosure - Let everyone know you're awesome and fully capable of erasing them from God's green Earth with a mere thought.

*Incentivizes and encourages your classmates to work harder. No one wants to be outdone by a Slacking Loafer!
*Easier to deal with the logistics of testing out of the first-year curriculum and moving onto the Second Year stuff.
*Nets you a lot of power-seeking friends who'll want to bask in your (and Penny's) glory.

[ ] Secret Concord - Live in peace for a while more, safeguarded by an angel's actions.

*Pay Damien off with a magical trinket or three, or simply the porn you have on your phone. Bribery will suffice for him to shut his mouth.
*Less allies, but also less enemies!
*There is value in being underestimated.

Although Penelope is indifferent to your approach, she'll duly exercise the fullness of her powers in an immediate and productive fashion unless you convince her otherwise, mostly chasing down the Engine and giving it a harsh lesson in schoolyard etiquette.

Will: 100
Credit: 1.1
XP: 0

Given that your school trip has resulted in such progress, it'll be assumed you want to reassess the contents of your November schedule. You've progressed sufficiently to make a strong case for testing out of the first-year curriculum, although the Educator will (correctly) point out that most of your practical capabilities do not have a one-to-one translation to a theoretical comprehension of subject material, meaning there'll still be much you have to catch up on.

[ ] Classwork [-15 Will] - Standardized and individualized. At least a single action should be devoted to this each turn unless you wish to fall behind: more if you wish to excel.

-[ ] Standardized - Attend classes, turn in your homework on time, and prepare for the upcoming pop quizzes and tests. Learn Tarot history, mysticism, occult meanings, and more standard subjects! Modest advancement in your Enrollment.

-[ ] Individualized [-15 Will] - A set of more individualized one-on-one sessions with the Educator. The extra Will cost represents the effort spent on studying and cramming to earn these sessions. Awesome advancement in your Enrollment, as efficient as about 2.5 classes of standardized Education.

[ ] Improve Curriculum [-300 Will] - Move onto the second-year curriculum. Can be 'paid' in installments, but is only finalized once you foot the entire Will cost. Marginally increases the Will cost of lessons but also significantly raises the amount of XP reaped out of all collective endeavors, especially lessons. Cost slowly decreases on its own as you approach the second year of Education.

-[ ] Remedial Classwork - Almost no effort expended on Enrollment, if any.

[ ] Bonding [-5 Will] - Deepen your bond with a student or faculty member you know!
-[ ] Penelope
-[ ] Damien
-[ ] Harrison
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Interaction [-10 Will] - Attempt to make contacts with your upperclassmen. Gain social advantages and earn favors!
-[ ] Visit Judas [-15 Will] - Maybe you should visit Judas and learn more about the dispute that led to this?
-[ ] Investigate Apostles [-25 Will] - Full effort spent on investigating the Apostles who accosted you. Learn more about the players on the chessboard. Can be delegated to Marids now, costing substantially less Will.
-[ ] Speak to Apostles [-5 Will] - Agree to, or deny their demands. If you'd like, you can instead ask them questions or interact normally.
--[ ] Agree
--[ ] Refuse
--[ ] Write-in

[ ] Exploration [-20 Will] - The Surveyors are looking for new members, although you don't have to be a member to get in on explorations. An exciting opportunity, as these worlds can hide arcane secrets that lead to furthering Enrollment, as well as the occasional artifact or potential ally. Many of these can be kept post-graduation.
-[ ] Join the Club - Commits a single action to Exploration, although at half the cost in Will. Leaving costs a variable amount of Will.

[ ] Decompression [+10 Will] - Default if nothing is selected. Just slack off.

[ ] Write-in

---

Here's a summary of your Eldritch Techniques, for posterity:

• Eldritch Technique: Basin 3 - Creates a symbiotic magical energy pool that can be channeled from, currently worth about .6 Arcanum of raw energy. Symbiotic mana is more difficult to dispel and naturally lends itself to transmutative effects, making it slightly more precious than your natural energy.
• Eldritch Technique: Assessor 3 - Spellcaster HUD aiding with deployment and precision of magic and spellcasting, enhanced symbiote analytic capabilities, Spiderman-like danger sense.
• Eldritch Technique: Enhancer 3 - Improves efforts at spellcasting via automatic correction of all relevant mind-states, invocations, movement patterns, and similar actions. Inefficient but universal.
• Eldritch Technique: Fluxator 3 - Immediate, non-magical manufacturing and externalization of fluid matter. Synergy with Potioncraft, allowing for instant field creation of any sufficiently analyzed alchemically-valid substance non-reliant on exotic ingredients, time, or labor.

Your symbiote is oddly shy (?) and hasn't spoken to you yet, even when prompted. You're aware that it must more or less understand your language, making its behavior puzzling. Is it perhaps too lazy to communicate?

 

[Birdsie]

Surveyance

Given a prevailing absence of any interest in secrecy, the story of their defeat of an eldritch monstrosity and claiming of its might spread around like wildfire.

On a daily basis from then on, Solomon was assailed with a number of troublesome requests, most of which Penelope rebuffed on her benefactor's behalf without him lifting a finger, like a celebrity's bodyguard. He found himself appreciative of her understanding that he simply didn't wish to spare willpower on humoring such pointless clamoring.

An entire week was spent coasting along on something of a comfortable haze, on a curling cirrus of his making. He invented a superior form of water bedding with a hyper-adaptive alchemical fluid, its surface treated with a softening agent. Once more, contented with modest achievement, Solomon became a creature of sedentary passions, prolonged inactivity, and mounting desultory reticence. Although Penelope dealt with most of Damien's issues in a satisfactory fashion, the inundation of new work meant she could neither investigate the Apostles of the Bible Theme nor properly deliver a fittingly threatening subpoena to the Engine.

On Monday, the tenth of November, Solomon was lying down and staring at the ceiling, hands crossed over his heart like the golden statue on some ancient pharaoh's tomb, as Harrison made the same offer he made almost every other week:

"Hey, Solomon, you should come with the Surveyors, we're doing an exploration of what could be an ancient wizard's tower." His attempt at intrigue elicited an arching of a brow, as Solomon contemplated the uncharacteristic ennui of the elapsed seven days. For some inconceivable reason, he still held onto a lot of motivation to do stuff.

"Sure," he shot back.

"I know you're-" Harrison did a brief double take. "For real?"

"Sure," he repeated. "Count me in. When?"

"Uh." Harrison needed a second to reset. "On Friday afternoon."

"Okay, I'll be there. Let Penny know."

"Sure..."

After that amusing episode, Solomon decided he should attend the Educator's remedial lesson of the day. Of all the Educator's seminars on offer, that one was most worthwhile and had nothing to do with treading over the steps of Enrollment he'd already attained and mastered. He raised a hand and a wizard's robe tumbled out of the wardrobe, sleeve flying onto his arm, with the other automatically doing the same. Once that was done, gloves as white as chalk came stepping comically through the air, index and middle fingers employed as legs, and snuck onto his unresisting hands.

He checked himself out in a reflective polished silver mirror. His robe was stylish, an even cloth of midnight blue that went down to almost the level of his knees, with an opening in the middle held with ropes of gold, a dark tunic and pants, almost more like a cloak. Its surface was dappled in gleaming silver stars and moons. An ordered compromise of faithful homage to his chosen Role and overall comfort, ensuring optimal benefits in each area.

It also had a lot of convenient practical elements. A hand rummaged around the robe's bag of holding, then came out holding an energy elixir. He downed the contents of the small flask and felt an immediate, sharp clarity, like a waterfall that washed away even signs of tarnish on the mind; immediately revivifying and awakening him from the restless stupor. Its alleviation compared in a fashion even to his favorite dessert, although it was a different genre of hedonic experience. More clarifying than gratifying.

The Educator welcomed him with a smile. "Solomon."

"Eddie."

"You've made good progress over the last couple of weeks," the Educator said, hands steepling as he leaned back into his chair. "I am contented to see you aren't merely resting on your laurels, now. Let's continue from where we left off?"

"Let's," agreed Solomon.

That lesson carried with it an understanding of how proverbs and aphorisms were self-contained dollops of more essential truth; an endonymic coordinate that could be sought with the correct meditations. He explained how it correlated to every other element of Architecture they'd already studied. As with almost every lesson on Architecture, it was mostly theory: a rung in the ladder he'd one day use to climb atop the world, to better view its skein from above, and shift the threads.

"Teach, I gotta ask you something," Solomon started, once the lesson started winding down.

"Yes, Solomon?"

"About the Metaphysicist, I mean," he said, uneasy about bringing this up. "I was approached by some students who said the only student to ever have these remedial lessons, aside from me, was him. Is that true?"

The Educator seemed uncharacteristically flatfooted - and then, slowly processing the question, exhaled. Although even by default, his cheerful affect wasn't on display during the remedial lessons, the Educator now seemed almost somber, if focused.

"Yes. I also taught David."

He asked, "Do you think I'll ever be able to catch up to him?"

He seemed amused now, as if curiosity intermingled with faint incredulity, and stared into Solomon's very being as if he were a riveting novel that suddenly developed a new, unexpected dimension. Like someone engrossed in a story observing as it developed a minor plot twist. "Curious. From where, I wonder, does that question originate?"

"I'm curious, is all," said Solomon nonchalantly, sniffling unashamedly, "Case you haven't noticed, sir, I'm sort of a freak of nature. Like, an incandescent genius. I'm built different. Probably among your best students of all time."

"Sadly," the Educator said, not sounding saddened at all, "proper Enrolled development requires effort. Now, you've applied yourself admirably, Solomon, but I know how thin you've had to wear yourself down. Unlike the Metaphysicist, you don't have much of a will to act at all. You're reliant on sweets to even get you out of bed. It's an impressive feat of self-directed Pavlovian conditioning, I'll admit: turning your organism's hunt for sucrose rewards into a mechanism of constant exaltation. Entirely degenerate as well, in an impressive fashion, were I a man inclined to personal opinions, which I'm not."

"Degenerate?"

The Educator nodded. "If you wish to ever match the level of the Metaphysicist, you'll need to do more. The drive to exist in a world of acknowledgment already pushes you, and yet I can feel its ambitious potential is unmet with the fervor it deserves. You'll need to learn to act without reliance on your crutches."

"Crutches?"

"The pudding - or coffee jello, as it is called - which you carry around," said the Educator saliently. There was a second of silence, as Solomon needed a moment to cogitate and parse the statement and its absurdity. Finally, he formed an objection.

"I'm motivating myself. There's nothing wrong with that."

"And if an enemy were to sabotage your supply?" asked the Educator drolly. "Threaten to remove it? It's something that can be levied against you. Shortcuts are convenient, but they are ultimately that. Shortcuts. Whether to power or a concrete spatial destination, they will not fill your body or mind with justly earned might. You must learn to motivate yourself without the supply of sweets you've accumulated. Reliance on them weakens you and prevents you from finding actual purpose."

"That's ridiculous. If I didn't have something to look forward to at the end of a long day, a reward of some kind, I wouldn't have become as strong as I am," argued Solomon. "If anything, shouldn't you be offering me even more of it?"

"Children find dentists unpleasant," said the Educator. "Hence why at the end of the visit, they receive a lollipop. A reward for bravery to motivate future attendance. It's the closest you can do to programming a human being's primitive mind with equally primitive inputs, like giving meat to a lion. Good enough for training a remora, or some other form of animal. Insufficient for an archetypical human being, let alone an Enrolled luminary. Bribing children with sweets is an elementary school educational tactic. If that."

He stared in disbelief. "You haven't said any of this before."

"I did not believe you so ambitious before, Solomon," the Educator. "If you are truly interested in becoming a peer of the Metaphysicist, you'll require excellence in every category, at minimum. There are other, more stable, and efficient methods of fanning one's eagerness than undirected gluttony. You've brushed against some, and discovered a couple of others. Employed none so far. This is a very abstract exercise, as you'll come to understand. I'll force nothing on you. Still, I recommend you limit your intake of coffee jello. Better yet, discard your supply entirely. Remove the temptation and you'll have to fear nothing. In any case, I think this lesson's over for now."

Solomon departed the Educator's office feeling bedraggled and drained, more than when he'd entered.

---

Will: 80
Credit: 1.6
XP: 0

How do you feel about your teacher's explanation?

[ ] He's Right, Abandon Gluttony [-100 Will] - A crutch must be discarded to rise above. Forsake the delicacies you once savored and discard them into a fiery bin, all the better to heat up your resolve...

*Counterfactually, damages your resolve as a side effect of surrendering a core hedonic aspect of your life.
*Renders the upcoming exploration of Fortuna significantly more difficult. If you're to have any hope of productive action, you'll need to devote at least some of your time to slacking off in order to cope with the emotional shock of the Educator's advice.
*Reduces the effectiveness of other psychological 'crutches.' Devoted Cup's effectiveness is unchanged, but Comfort's Embrace suffers modest diminishment.
*May have other benefits, eventually?

[ ] Abandon Ambition [+50 Will] - Eh, who cares about the Metaphysicist? If he's really that awesome a dude, he and his buddies can deal with all of the world's upcoming issues on their own. You'll be hanging out and enjoying yourself.

*Dramatically improves the effectiveness of coffee jello.
*Tentatively reduces Solomon's interest in attaining godlike power in the future; he'll be content to merely rest on his laurels.

[ ] A Deeper Lesson - As you've already learned, there's always a third and equally valid path. Call it a gut feeling, but something is telling you the Educator means for you to derive some other, deeper lesson from this. Otherwise, he wouldn't have pivoted onto such a tangent at the end of remedial classes.

*Don't commit to either path.
*Reduces the effectiveness of coffee jello, but doesn't seal away its use.

Decide what you'll do with the Surveyors (select two, all three if you want to spread yourself thin):

[ ] Introduction At Court - As it happens, a royal ball and matinee are coming up. Make an introduction of yourself to every aristocrat of worth at the Court of Rider in the Unified Sovereignty, Fortuna's equivalent of the United Kingdom. Gain contacts, allies, and potential resources.

*Penelope recommends doing this.
*Lots of people want friends in high places. Enrolled are viewed with a nigh-messianic air on Fortuna, so you'll be sure to find lots of supporters.
*Gain at least 800 XP and some contacts within the local courts, potentially even better benefits if you spend Will or Credit.

[ ] Ancient Ruins - Go exploring with the main team. Shine a light on their way. Discover ancient secrets!

*Harrison recommends doing this.
*Benefits uncertain. At least 1,000 XP and probably some minor artifacts, more if you expend Will or Credit.
*Moderate danger expected.

[ ] Visit Market - The Sovereigncy's artifact market is among the liveliest on Fortuna. If you ask, the Club may provide you a minor stipend of money to spend on whatever you want to acquire. There are magic eyes, exotic creatures, blessed relics unclaimed by the Church, and more.

*Diverse assortment of magic items.
*No danger, little XP.
*May be able to make contacts?

[ ] Write-in

 

[Birdsie]

The Soteriological Disaster

Once, a man stood in Heaven, and declared the words: 'Salvation is meaningless without success.'

In order to save a world, you must have more than a simple intent, as even the purest intent can be corrupted through flawed insight, or something as simple as misdirection. To save another life, you needed the ability, ingenuity, conviction, and wisdom to prevail in your drive.

It'd been a millennium since the man in Heaven evoked that Truth. In common Soteriological dogma, it was strongly believed this central tenet of salvation was so crucial to the universe's metaphysical fabric that every child on Sotiras comprehended its every nuance and modulation from the moment of drawing breath; a not baseless belief, as every infant child always cried out for salvation in one form or another with its first words, asking to be saved. It was the few rare souls that didn't cry out for salvation, but offered to deliver it instead, that drew the eye of the Order, spirited away for education, and eventually became dedicated Soteriologists.

Although the right to save themselves was offered to each child of Sotirias, simply through comprehending the words of the man in Heaven, only the Soteriologists could achieve complete and total mastery of the disciplines, as within them was a rare drive, a plurality of every aspect: not mere selfishly directed deliverance, but a hand reaching out to scoop as many of the world's damned as it could.

To Soteriologists were conferred fourfold disciplines, the so-called Doctrines of Salvation, or simply the Doctrines: Freedom, Concord, Solace, and Life.

By studying the associated principles, pathways revealed themselves. Many were common, a well-studied collection favored by multitudes, a conclave following the footsteps of their seniors. Freedom from Death granted immortality, as did a Life of Eternity; Solace in Longevity and Concord through Good Works could likewise contribute.

The man formerly known as Abraham elected to bring salvation to others with a constant Life of Battle. An error of youth, resulting from hasty attribution of sloth and ineffectuality to the Soteriologists of the Concordant Ribbon. From then on, century after century, he fought and sharpened his skills on the skulls and bones of his enemies.

Eventually, however, civilization found a way forward without War - making Concord through Pacts, through Marriage, through Good Works and so many other things - and now, having honed every aspect of his Life over the centuries, having accessed Freedom from Rest, the idea of Concord was nigh-unattainable to him.

Therefore, a millennium after the man in Heaven said his mythopoeic line, Abraham the Kingkiller was unceremoniously spirited away from a world without battlefields, delivered into the graceful clutches of the nexus at the Architecture that spanned his and every other world.

---

On Friday, exploration came as promised. However, it didn't come as planned - although Solomon ventured out with the rest of the Surveryor's Club, adorned with the Magician's vestments, he found the experience swiftly spoiled.

An inauspicious shroud hung over practically everything, making him sick - in every direction Solomon looked, the stones and tenor of the air sang with doom, a promise of violence incipient within every corner. The Architecture rebelled against insight, and yet, a faint instinct said that retreating back to the Academy wasn't a choice.

A doom came and Solomon was meant to face it, even if the cost was blood. His warnings fell on uncharacteristically deaf ears, as if a malicious hand had seized the Architecture and wrung any semblance of listening to him out of the people within his surroundings, his alarmed look only met with confusion and shrugs.

His choice not to attend the Court of Rider was related, as the mere idea of it spiked dread, a primal fear of death so cavernous it roused even the symbiote,

Around the Tower itself were roiling hills of verdant grass, stretching lazily into the horizon. The ancient wizard's Tower stood as the sole vertical feature of that horizon, a massive construct of stone as large as suburban houses, preceded by a valley-tomb with an awning of kindred stone, baked white by exposure to Fortuna's sun, the sepulchral depths studded with gravestones and memorial tablets carved from obsidian, each one with Latin numerals and a strange alphabet containing names he couldn't pronounce.

He continued to constantly voice concerns over his grim premonitions, and yet only Penelope seemed to notice, if only in the most tangential manner possible, simply positioning herself closer to him, as if mere proximity could assuage such a fear of some unknown future.

In the absence of rational salvation and no way to contact the Educator, Solomon girded himself with as many fortifications as he could, maintaining a shielding spell that could theoretically survive a nuke, once; as well as a constant oracular forecast of the near-future, a ceaseless scission of the timeline, entire forks of probability dislimned with the ominous and ill-defined kismet. The moment a single road revealed itself as the one safe from the shadow, even if slightly more luminous than its siblings, Solomon stepped onto its causal cobblestones, navigating a slow way out of this mess. The Architecture, although unclear like a lake suddenly filled with mud and pond scum overnight, still provided the occasional flash of insight to capitalize on the motions, brightening the trunk of the tree.

Once they entered the magical Tower, the origin of the destined terminus was clarified, if only slightly.

Within its catacombs, almost half a kilometer underneath the stolid earth, a war brewed. An increasingly heated battle of monstrosities, eldritch and arcane, against one intercessor, a man whose fists couldn't even shatter cities, but who could paradoxically murder all of the Tarot's Enrolled with a moment of attentive aggression.

Solomon's eyes foresaw the causation, aching with premonition - an adverse reaction of some sort. The man's natural magic advanced via warmongering and participation in combat, rendering him a fighter of conceptually terrifying and overwhelming aptitude, but the esoteric defenses he possessed, albeit comprehensive and impressive even by their standards, had a number of serious gaps. The slaying of a liminal beast would chain him down with a fate of ironic doom, causing him to snowball into an avatar of warfare that could destroy the world of Fortuna without the Educator's intervention.

A single path shone clear: in order to avert disaster, abjure the man's slaying of the beast before he became a monster.

"Solomon?" asked Penelope, half-turning. He'd been so lost in spellcraft's throes he'd missed some bit of conversation. Irrelevant.

"I need you to listen to me," he said, in return approaching and placing both hands on Penelope's shoulders, stressing the syllables, lacing every word he spoke with as much intent and seriousness as his vocal cords could impart. As if her soul were a flickering lightbulb, Penelope's eyes suddenly gained vibrancy, an attentiveness that people's minds normally resisted. He could see the Architecture attempting to reset her back to baseline, to ignore the commandments that went against its structure, and her flicking herself back to the state of attentiveness with sheer force of will. He was too focused on composing his message to be impressed.

"There's a man down there," he explained. "He's fighting monsters. He'll kill one and it'll lead to disaster for everyone. We need to stop him. Talk to him, fuck him up, whatever. Probably can't fight him, but we might have to."

"I understand. Harrison, can you translocate us?"

"Uh, what?" Harrison turned around. "I wasn't listening."

Solomon shook her shoulders. Penelope looked back at him.

"Don't bother with them," he said. "This is just us."

At that, it was as if understanding - a more complete form of one - dawned on her. "Alright, I've got it, I think. Can you bring us down?"

Solomon nodded. "We need to plan first. We have a minute or two."

---

How do you approach this? Keep in mind, the wind blows against you; no matter how reasonable your attempts, the Architecture and fate shall seek to spite them, and working against such forces can be difficult for the Magician. Tactics are recommended.

[ ] Diplomacy - From what your divinations portend, the warrior himself isn't an unreasonable individual. The monsters attacked him first and en masse, he's simply cutting down through their constant wave, without awareness of the calamity he'll bring. If you can manage to contact him and communicate without being taken for enemy combatants, you should be able to forewarn him, at which he should be more than happy to let you defuse the beast's kismet before slaying it.

*Modest risks for you. His reactions are fast enough that he could attack you and seriously harm you even as you appear within his field of view; some of the other monstrosities are sufficiently humanoid that your possession of Eldritch and Seraph may mark you as targets, rather than innocent fellow sapients.
*Communication isn't assured, as he doesn't speak your language and doesn't have native translatory capabilities. You can improvise a spell with Raw Manifestation, but it'll be a little rough; reverse-engineering an entire language with only divination is a little difficult, even for your standards.
*If you manage it, you'll gain a strong ally.
*If you don't, you've lost the advantage of surprise.

[ ] Ambush - Can't risk it, so you'll have to take a more drastic measure. If you attack at the correct moment, your combined forces should be capable of slaying the man without a possibility of retaliation. The swarm of monsters attacking him can even be turned to your advantage.

*Risk of death or injury exist, naturally, although strictly lesser overall than Diplomacy, as you'll have the advantage of first strike: a terrifying trump card for the Magician and Justice working in tandem.
*Maybe you can resurrect him later under more controlled conditions?
*Although not in favor, as the Olympian's daughter, Penelope understands dire necessity and will follow the dictates of your best judgment; an impressive mental feat, given she's already battling a constant reset from the Architecture.

[ ] Preemptive Slaying - Instead, target the beast that he'd slay, the Liminally Destined Ox, and disarm its kismetic capabilities, then slay it yourselves.

*A considerable amount of risk. The Ox isn't as powerful as you, so it should be a straightforward task. And yet, if you are noticed or a section of the wave directs itself over to you, then you may be facing a different sort of issue.
*If you slay the Ox without disarming it first, you're fucked.
*The Architecture and destiny's weave are holding hands in collaboration to reduce your odds of success here.
*Alternatively, you can have Penelope take on the burden of slaying the Ox.

[ ] Write-in

 

[Birdsie]

The Wizard's Basement

They descended with Penelope opening a path using a miracle of thunder, narrowing its voluminosity into a concentrated spear of echoing vibration that cored out the floor, digging like a dentist's drill into the basement of the Wizard's Tower, dark magestone and struts of lignum vitae crumbling away like crushed biscuit.

They emerged on a sublevel, where Penelope cleared a landing site amongst a resident tribe of shadow demons - creatures made of umbral aether, only visible when a sharp light contrasted the outlines of their form - slaying and banishing with each hand, their cries of rage falling impotent before an angel's uncaring justice.

As Penelope cleared them out, Solomon created a concoction of mercurial alchemy, spilling a stream of silver liquid from his palm onto the floor, its flow circulating into a programmed arrangement, forming a sixsome magic circle, hexagrams within hexagons within binding circles, glowing with silver radiance. After a couple of invocations supported by the rite, he called forth a spirit of elemental water, a shapeless Marid, its surface roiling with instinctive abeyance to assemble into the form of an otherwise genderless humanoid. Solomon then shaped the spirit's countenance into that of a woman's, roughly attractive and trustworthy.

With a thumb, he drew the mark of Mercury and the mark of Venus on its forehead and chest respectively, conferring the blessings of travel and tenderness. Then, he thrust a hand into its stomach and filled its fluid interior with an enhancing aureate cordial, one so potent its toxicity would've slain a man if injected into their circulation. The Marid, as a spirit rather than a living being, didn't care and nodded in obedience as Solomon whispered its mission into the left ear. It departed, leaving behind pale streamers of mist, and flowed through the cracks within the floor to enter the basement itself.

As it sent confirmation of sighting the target and making an approach with diplomatic intent, Solomon felt the sympathetic link abruptly shatter as it was destroyed in a single attack, a brutal feedback slamming into Solomon's mind and causing him to grimace, leaving behind impressions of an impassionate, red-tinted eye. Across their rapport, Penelope felt the aftershocks of the shattering as well and frowned inquiringly. Solomon nodded, face uncrumpling. It was time to attempt the secondary plan.

She entombed Solomon within the embrace of her seraphic wings, shining and shimmering with a miracle of protection, a voluminous chrysalis of feather-white softness. With a coordinated translocative working, they sent each other downstairs. They emerged with a thunderclap amongst ranks of monsters, chitin-clad insectoids and umbral reapers, immediately exploding with a celestial shockwave that sent the hapless masses flying like a detonation of pellets from a burst bucket.

Here, the basement was cavernous: an assembly of halls with fluted pillars, unevenly and roughly conjoined, as if years of tectonic motions had detached them and then slammed them into each other; many a column lay strewn. An umbral gloom covered the halls, save a single spotlight of sunlight from the surface, underneath which stood a lone warrior: a muscled man with a sword, a tattered black cape, and strangely anachronistic modern body armor, dark kevlar plates covering every inch of his form. Only his head was clear of any coverings, crimson eyes swiveling to drink in the environment, perception stretched to perceive every attack coming on the peripheries.

He stood and cut them down, a constant scything and arcing of the sword, drawing a perimeter with ruthless swings. Even as the monsters swarmed him in a torrential, Biblical deluge of aggressive creatures, like an anthill and beehive in conjunction sent against a lone spider, he simply locked both of his hands on the hilt, firmly, and turned slightly with a heavier swing that destroyed hundreds in one attack, crushing carapaces and dispelling darkling flesh, as if there were entire battalions of intangible warriors echoing his own movement, fighting against the same enemy. Against ranged opponents, he employed thrusts that crossed the distance and pierced their vitals, ichor pouring forth like a flood that might've sufficed to fill a lake, enough that an insufficiently agile man could've drowned beneath the industrial mass of bodies he relentlessly created.

A monstrosity came unlike any of the others, a knife of serrated bone on each forearm. Anthropomorphic, albeit with an auxiliary pair of thick limbs, raising its chitin-clad forearms to ablate the man's sword attacks. His unerring crimson eyes focused on it, and within them, Solomon found an unerring calculation. It was a dissembling stare that instantly assessed all battle-relevant aspects of the four-armed monster's capabilities and instantly charted a path to slaying it.

It came at him with a thrust. The man accepted the venomous blade's descent, as it sunk into his flesh, delivering a deathly paralytic that could arrest a heartbeat before it reached completion. Instead, the man's endocrine, circulatory, and nervous systems endured the vile toxin with stoic resolve. A second, third, and fourth knife entered other spots on the man's chest, piercing vital organs, sending out a jet of scarlet blood from each injury as they pumped more of the toxin into him.

Instead of succumbing, his sword arm severed the arms, a tetrad of limbs falling like a reaper's harvest. The monster, too occupied with screeching in shock and terror, didn't manage to avoid the subsequent stab, the man's sword piercing its forehead and then sliding out as smoothly as it entered, stained with a yellow-green substance.

As the monsters swarmed, Penelope and Solomon approached from above, entering efficacious casting range, seraphic wings producing a whirlwind that batted aside dragonfly-beasts, clearing an airspace. As Solomon started the process of reverse-engineering the man's language based on future words, Penelope attempted to create an Edict, intending on bridging the void of communication.

His crimson eyes fell on them, as if sensing the deployment of magic, and immediately, three of Penelope's wings came off, alongside a diagonal slice that almost pierced down to her spine. A golden glow emanated from Penelope's heart as the wound sealed itself, flesh and skin flowing over the cut. She cast a miracle of protection, and indeed, miraculously, the man's next attack - otherwise as unerring as the rest - missed Solomon's neck by a hair's breadth, only felt as a slight tingle of chilling wind.

The Ox came into sight on the horizon, a monster of auriferous fleece, with carved horns displaying hieroglyphs of goblets and owls. It stomped the earth with a hoof, smoke coming in streams out of its nostrils, and ran down with bloodshot eyes focused on the intruders, slowed massively by a wave of dilation that Solomon threw its way, a magnification of both space and time separating the Ox from everything else. It was a costly invocation, almost draining Solomon down to nothing, but among the most effective of his magical arsenal: it bought at minimum a full minute.

As that occurred, Penelope cast a shielding miracle - a crystalline orb of numinous light, deflecting the man's attacks. As if realizing the sphere's inviolable nature, he corrected his footing, hands turning on the blade's hilt. Solomon felt an immediate thrill of danger and unease, every hair on his back standing, a danger fuzz overwhelming his sensorium. Painfully, he cast yet another spell of translocation, already emptied banks of magical energy sucked of any remnant moisture, to deliver them outside of Penelope's protective orb, as every meter of space within came under the effects of a hundred simultaneous cuts, kicks, and haymakers.

"Sol," Penelope said, urgently, "Connect me with your Sanctum Aspect."

He hesitated for a second. The Architecture was in a state of flux, the future unclear, a muddied gray fog fallen over what he once considered a clear and familiar path. In that moment, he chose to trust.

He did.

She declared a miracle of the temporal continuum - among the costliest of her repertoire, from what he remembered - and instantly completed a set of intricate actions that would've consumed an hour's work otherwise, establishing a barebones Sanctum within the area. Within, she didn't have to clear her mind or focus on its contents to declare an Edict, as anything that Justice proclaimed within its Sanctum was simply the Truth. Therefore, she created an Edict of absolute armistice, forbidding any form of battle.

Immediately, the swarms of monsters ceased to advance, a veil of confusion drawn over their minds, chittering with uncertainty. The Ox's stampede slowed and then arrested, as the monster stood on a promontory of fallen pillars, head lowering in sudden disinterest.

Across the connective link, Solomon could feel as the Edict struggled and metaphysically shook, strained with effort. The man, on the other hand, shook in a more physical fashion, resisting the Edict's order in turn as spiritedly as he could, eyes widening with bloodshot focus, teeth grit almost to the point of grinding.

Finally, she declared a second Edict, stacked onto its predecessor, forbidding resistance, motion, or change - in order to act as a secondary layer for the armistice Edict.

As if realizing the increased danger, the man's own efforts - already eye-bulgingly intense - redoubled stolidly, every aspect of his spirit a battering ram crashing over and over into Penelope's Sanctum, both of them locked in a mental war, as any loss of concentration on either side could result in an immediate failure.

"Help," she breathed out.

Although left without any internum to cast magic with, Solomon wasn't entirely helpless.

---

[ ] Concord Through Stabbing - The Red Athame can render even men of ironclad will insensate, screaming with torment, so distracting him is a certainty. Airburst from Penelope's embrace and deliver a single cut to the man's cheek, sufficing to end his resistance against the Edict, and winning you the battle without lethality. However, in a situation such as this, even a second wasted is precious: the heartbeats you'll spend running with a dagger in your hand might give him the resolve needed to shatter the Edict, and if this happens, you'll be in a much worse position: running right towards doom.

If you succeed, he'll awaken to a sterile, magical holding cell, where you can calmly explain everything - as a potential ally of incredible strength.

[ ] Death of Battle - The Revolver concealed inside of your left pouch can now veritably slay him with a single headshot, minimizing the loss of precious rounds. Incapable of moving as he already is, with the Revolver's anti-motion enchantment, your victory is assured if you undertake this path. However, such a death isn't easily undone. Given the danger, both to you and so many others, such a course of action may be argued as conventionally wise, although its righteousness is debatable.

You'll still have a corpse to research, at least, presumably with the echoes of whatever magics he's using.

[ ] Write-in

 

[Birdsie]

Unorthodox Concord

As Abraham faced new opposition, he contemplated the ever-distant ideal of harmony.

His Life of Battle meant no surrender, ever. Even though he'd accomplished great deeds, and saved entire kingdoms, it was nonetheless a heretical choice - spurred on by youth's grandiose arrogance. It meant a refusal of Concord, never allowing him to adopt that particular Doctrine. A ceaseless battle, flashing images of carnage like a film reel of humanity's most violent achievements; feet always taking him down the road to face new conflicts as the fires of the preceding wars died down. It meant no surrender here either, against this unearthly mage or his angelic familiar. Both of them stank of devilry in either case: a bone-deep corrosion, some eldritch force holding sway over them.

Then, after the mage fired off some attack into the broad, monster-infested horizon, a change resonated through the world. A commandment, made in another tongue, not unlike the deeds that Abraham's old Soteriological master could accomplish with Solace of Law, an effect capable of enforcing supernatural legislation.

It felt crude and unnatural, compared to Karlos' Lawful Commandments, but it was still a familiar ability. Hesitation, heart-deep and faculty-depriving, as if some devil's hand shimmied open an abyss of uncertainty. The monstrous horde felt the same, its charge arrested, dark blurs of movement now frozen into nervous stillness.

His Life of Battle, however, meant he'd always fight - all events surrounding Abraham sought a reframing into the context of a Battle, especially once he'd properly started focusing on channeling the Doctrine, meaning that slowing down was itself a nearly fruitless effort, even in situations that called for leniency or selectiveness.

For absence of the ability to Battle the monsters, his metaphysiology defaulted to declaring a Battle on the effect itself.

As if focused into a peerless implement of war, every aspect of his mind lashed out against the Edict, snakes of invisible will transmuted into spears that crashed against the proverbial shields, constantly refined by each attempt, making every blow stronger than the one that came before. The angel's face was strained. Just a few more, then...

A second Edict came, layered atop the previous, like an ablative shield. Gritting his teeth, Abraham continued the Battle, calm and focused, every stroke carrying with it a level of supernal precision, honed over long years of more physical combat. His spears of will slowed, now, as if immersed in heavy water. He realized what she'd done within a second, focusing on the creation of an Edict of stillness, a declaration that fundamentally disallowed change on any level except the personal and mental. He mused on that, even as he struggled to overcome it.

Abraham couldn't move a muscle, no effort sufficient, every motion stilled by some unnatural influence, even as the Doctrine of Life within sang with redoubled and tripled fury, attempting to manifest the truth of Battle, his chosen armor of ascendancy. His mind accelerated, a combat-oriented apex state developed over decades of refinement, incrementally alloyed by experiences on the battlefield, analyzing every fact of relevance like a computer processing an image to find a single pixel on a vast screen. His resolve faltered then recreated itself; an emission of sheer determination, lost as it ate away at a pool of alien will and was endlessly replaced.

Instead of a mere rank of spears, he emanated from his heart a full storm; then a hurricane; a gale-force crushing worlds within its wrathful bosom. The Edict wobbled and shook, its solid metaphysical foundation being cored out by repeated attacks.

The Magician chose that moment to strike. Abraham's danger sense warned him of an incoming attack; a useful impulse given limited ability to dodge or predict. Pointing a firearm, he spoke a phrase in his language, and Abraham felt a shroud of leaden weight come over him. Then, he threw a dagger that sailed through the air with pinpoint precision, fast as a bullet, and likely about as deadly. His focus was bent on defying the Edict, so predicting the path of flight was difficult.

It didn't matter. Even with the shielding Edict against motion, he'd already shaken its foundations enough to at least take a single step-

Ah.

Abraham's feet couldn't move. The feeling of leaden weight didn't subside even as he made Battle against it, pressing down stolidly on every physical element of his body as if he were entombed in a sarcophagus of titanium, deep beneath the earth, making the prospect of movement beyond a skin-deep twitch an utter impossibility.

I've been had. Well done.

Having acknowledged his opponent's well-earned victory as best as he could, as per custom, Abraham closed his scarlet eyes peacefully, ready for death - a reprieve from his Life of Battle would be, in a manner of speaking, a rather welcome experience.

Instead, the dagger cut into the side of his cheek, down to the flesh. His eyes snapped open, eyelids fluttering, dark and unbelieving pupils dilating to consume the iris. He desired to scream loud enough to tear his throat apart from the vibrations, but couldn't manage anything more than a rasped note of forced breath, his lungs practically pistoning out their contents. His every muscle went rigid, taut; stretched to utter straightness, making his body feel like steamrolled pavement. The agony was indescribable. It shattered his will to fight immediately, made the resolve of a centuries-old titan tumble down like a child's house of cards meeting an uncaring hurricane.

Through the haze of torment, he observed as the angel landed, clearly fatigued. Gazing at him, the boy said something to her.

Then, mercifully, Abraham passed out from the pain.

---

Good work, how shall you approach the issue of Abraham?

[ ] Special Containment Procedures - Induce and maintain a comatose state. No matter whether he's innocent or not, he's dangerous - once you've got more time and some additional power under your belt, you can study the curious magic that his pneumatic composition appears to resonate with, and maybe experiment with that, or awaken him and speak with him. However, until then, he's too threatening to interact with, except under extreme scrutiny.

[ ] Friendship and Reconciliation - Once you've recovered some of your energy, cursory divinations will display that he's not an evil being at all: only grossly out of control as a result of magical influence. And much as any influence pertaining to magic, you can almost certainly figure out a way to curb it. Figure out a communication method, awaken him in a Sanctum readied specifically for containing his bloodlust, and make overtures in convincing him that you've got his salvation in mind. There's a non-zero risk he'll attempt to break out, naturally, but you're confident in Penelope's skills.

[ ] Write-in
Oh, yeah, the Wizard's Tower is extremely large. Although the upper-levels are off-limits and sealed by magical locks you can't break, it seems uninhabited. That means with some proper warding set in place, you could make this your place.

[ ] A New Home - Make the Magician's Tower your home. Easy and comfortable base; its structure is optimal for supporting your Sanctum, slightly improving the effectiveness of that Aspect within. Aids future exploration of its upper and lower levels. Begin a secondary base-building experience, renovating old thaumaturgical systems and building new ones. You could even make this a hang-out spot for your Classmates, if you were so inclined.

[ ] Stay at Academy - Nah, you're not into dusty old corridors and ancient libraries.