The Wizard's Tower
The Wizard's Tower

A floor-shaking thunderclap announced their arrival, alongside a brilliant flash of white light, as Solomon and Penelope stood within the Tower's atrium.

The Surveyors had scattered over its stone-tiled halls, as well as the nearby side chambers, examining the environment and furniture, searching for potentially useful artifacts, conversing about their findings. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, a relaxing social endeavor. Heads turned at their reappearance, although no one approached yet, except the slightly confused and worried Vice Captain, stepping up to speak with them both. His face showed unease, fractionally decreasing as he observed their state.

"You're back," said Harrison, then narrowed an eye. "Is that a...?"

"An otherworlder," said Solomon, carrying the unconscious warrior - Abraham - in a fireman's lift, having dosed him with a potent mixture of propofol and isoflurane, apparently sufficient to maintain unconsciousness, at least until a superior method was found.

With a moment's focus, Solomon bid the earth to rise, a current of soft loam flowing between shattered floor tiles and settling into a slab, then solidifying into a structure reminiscent of granite. He rested the comatose man on it. "We'll have to contain him. That can wait until I've moved my Sanctum here."

"You're moving out of our room, then?" asked Harrison, curious and accepting rather than disappointed. It was understandable and mutual. They'd not especially interacted as roommates, outside of the usual activities and bland conversation every morning and evening, not having much in common with each other.

After all, ultimately, this sort of move into a private living space had been Solomon's intention to start with - rooming with Harrison was always a means to an end, even if that came out sounding as overly utilitarian.

"Yeah."

"I need a breather," said Penelope, bone-weary, struggling bodily against fatigue. Like an array of blades moved into a sheath, her corona of wings folded back, disappearing within moments, leaving only the smooth surface of her armored uniform. She took a moment to stretch, voice husky as she informed, "I'll find a corner somewhere and sit down. Holler if you need me." She looked about ready to depart when Harrison asked yet another question, with a raised eyebrow - as if utterly befuddled by something.

"Did you fight something?"

Although innocent and merely inquisitive, Solomon could see - almost literally, by tracing the emotional slump via Connections - as the inquiry caused something brittle and tensed within Penelope to snap, its effect compounded by tiredness.

She addressed Harrison with a slight glare, eyes radiant with divine fury, voice clipped and full of mordant scorn, "Yes. As a matter of fact, we did, Harrison. And you really, really should've helped, instead of standing around and not listening to a word either of us was saying."

He raised both hands as if suddenly fired upon by a rifleman he'd believed an ally. Incredulous and alarmed. "Holy crap, okay. Sorry, I didn't know."

"Didn't know? Well, I know you're a-"

"Penny," cut in Solomon, knowing exactly how the conversation was plotted to develop if not interrupted. "Can we talk for a sec?"

As much as Solomon harvested a kind of sick, diabolical satisfaction from seeing an innocent - that wasn't himself for once - fall victim to Architectural vicissitudes, experiencing the same, soul-draining issue that he'd dealt with alone for his entire life, he didn't believe that Harrison deserved a verbal lashing. And he could predict that without intervention, it'd only spoil the mood, worsen Penelope and Harrison's relationship, and generally degrade everything about the Club.

After moving aside, to a corner of the central atrium - behind a column of dark brown stone - he explained patiently, "You're yelling at a wall."

"Yeah, I noticed," she said, with blithe sardonicism, fists twitching violently. Then, controlling herself, she breathed out and unclenched them both, and offered Solomon an apologetic look. "How come they're like this? How come no one..."

"Notices?" After a heartbeat, she nodded hesitantly, and Solomon offered his best consolatory smile. "Yeah, welcome to my life, Penny. Everyone forgets everything I say, or at least stuff that isn't trivial. Outside of a certain, circumscribed role of being a boring loser, I'm not allowed to matter or do anything. Like a ghost. And if they don't forget, that's because they weren't even listening to start with, or don't want to believe a word I say. I don't know why you're... unaffected." He'd almost said 'special.'

She considered, although it only occupied a moment. "Could it have to do with my Truthseeker Aspect?"

"Maybe," he said, neither all that keen on agreeing nor on disagreeing. He'd not even bothered forming a theory, as Solomon was confident the Educator would have an answer either way, and it'd most likely be something beyond either of their expectations. "I don't know. Whatever I have, it's not related to Enrollment or Thematics."

"You're sure about that." It was sounded out as a statement, rather than a straightforward question - becoming a more veiled question in the process.

"Mr. Ed said it himself," he answered, shrugging in equanimous acceptance. "It's what I've been studying during my remedial lessons."

"God, that thing? I thought that was about you..." she trailed off, connecting the dots in her mind, and her eyes descended. Concluding the cogitation within a moment, she arched both brows. "Oh. Now I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah," she said, with a slight, barely perceptible nod. "It's how you knew the Educator would Enroll us, isn't it? And everything else..."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Damn, you remember that?"

"Yes." Then, dangerously, her eyes stared into his own. "Did you know about the Engine ahead of time?"

"No," he answered swiftly, eyes widening a millimeter at the flash of aggression on her face. "Or at least, none of the specifics. I only had a vague hunch that something terrible was going to happen on that day. And given how usually no one believes me..."

"You didn't warn anyone," she finished the statement, sounding a little brusque. Then, she looked down and started thinking intently about something else, pausing the conversation. His stomach sank, almost pushed out of his bootsoles, as a nervous knot replaced all other feelings.

"Alright," she eventually said, nodding. "Fair enough."

A tremendous relief overcame him, unflappable placidity engaged once more. Noticeable enough he pondered why he cared so much about her opinion. It took him a second to puzzle out, but he supposed that it was because she was a natural ally - someone who both understood and could share in his misery, lightening the load.

He ventured, "You're not mad at me?"

"No?" She sounded confused about his reasoning. Ending her contemplation, she looked into his eyes once more, seemingly baffled by his question. "Why? You're doing your best in an unreasonable world."

His stomach sank a little more. Guilt came into him at once, returning from the cavernous depth into which it'd receded over the last couple months, flooding and mind-consuming. She'd said that with full and earnest belief in him as an actor - believing in Solomon, in Solomon's resolve and benevolence as a human being - even though he'd not actually done anything even resembling his best. He'd given up on doing that long ago. He remembered the Engine searing Judas, the entire incident, his stray and distant thought of maybe being able to help out, and then sloth and simple indifference overcoming that angel of instinct. Drowning it ruthlessly, like a river-tossed kitten in a sack.

"Yeah," he said, a touch somber, "Yeah, anyway... don't be mad at them. However the Architecture works - that's what the Educator calls it - it doesn't let them think on their own, at least not when it comes to what I say. It's not their fault, I'm like... like an error in the world."

Her expression softened at that word, sympathetic and concerned at the same time. "God, that's fucked up," she whispered. I'm so sorry."

He didn't have an answer to that.

"I'll do what I can to help you out," she said, considering options already, judging by the look on her face. "If you ever need to talk about it, or really anything else, I'm open to it. Given that I still remember the conversations we've had, whatever's happened to let me resist this... 'Architecture,' must still be in effect."

He nodded, feeling relieved and grateful. And guilty, still, about her earlier words. "Thanks."

"I really need a moment to rest my eyes, though," she answered, walking over to an ancient chair set on the side of the atrium. "You guys carry on with the exploration. If Harrison gets on your nerves, you know where to find me."

He nodded, even though he already knew that wouldn't be the case. "I'll talk to you later then. But if you want to rest, maybe you should return to the Academy?"

She stopped, considering his words - and he could see, after their conversation, she was truly considering them. A part of Solomon considered whether or not the awareness of his straits might not cause her to overcorrect. Instead, she shook her head. "No, even with Harrison's aid, it'd take a little too long, especially if I needed to return all of a sudden. I want to stay around in case something explodes, or there's some other monster you need help with. I could hardly leave you alone with half a class on your hands. Besides, I'll be fine to fight and do other things in an hour or less. It's not that bad."

He nodded once again. "Alright. Rest well."

He left, considering the contents of their conversation with a heavy heart.

---

Right now, you're chewing on industrial-grade guilt. Hopefully, you can make something out of it.

After a brief exploration, you've isolated several areas of especial interest within the Tower. Your access is limited: many doors are magically barred, and it'll take considerable effort for even you to unseal the fullness of individual Floors -

The Basement (10th sub-Floor, danger) - The location of your fight with Abraham, currently marked with Penelope's Sanctum although with the Edict removed so as to not further tire her out. Dangerous and full of strangely un-Thematic eldritch monsters, as well as a couple more Thematic and powerful beasts, such as the Liminal Ox.

The Atrium (1st Floor, full access) - An expansive atrium, filled with nonmagical if beautifully ornamental antiques, has a long scarlet-red carpet with golden filigree running through the middle. Brown and earthy aesthetic. Natural light in the form of perpetually lit braziers.

The Door Corridor (4th Floor, limited access) - An incredibly long corridor that seems to grow longer the more you walk down the northern direction, walls fashioned out of bronze plates studded at each of the corners, already overgrown with verdigris, lit by ceiling lamps reminiscent of modern fluorescent tubes. Walking down the southern direction always takes the same amount of time. At both sides of the corridor are magically sealed and chained iron gates, which reveal behind them their own corridors, each one containing seemingly endless doors in unique designs. Scrying past the doors appears impossible.

The Naval Chamber (5th Floor) - Occupies the center of the 5th Floor, with hallways around it and multiple doors for entry. It's sea-themed, with the entry doors leading into the empty air above a giant body of water that occupies more volume than the Tower's external appearance suggests it should be able to hold. Divinatory scans appear to suggest the depth of the chamber is close to endless, and it has many forms of aquatic flora and fauna beneath the waters.

The Death Room (6th Floor) - On the sixth Floor, a metal door with a skull and crossbones on it can be opened by tapping it thrice. Within is a dark chamber, overflowing with ominous ambiance that causes all observers to feel instinctive dread. An experiment was conducted with a plant - placed within the doorframe, it withered in a record time of three minutes and forty seconds. Divinations struggle to penetrate the room and see what's in the dark.

The Calming Room (6th Floor) - A room with conceptual stilling and calming properties. People within feel at peace and move slower; even spells are slowed down, as are the effects of chemicals and human metabolism. Effect appears indifferent to length of stay; doesn't intensify over time. After conducting experiments to ensure safety, Abraham was stored within alongside an IV drip of sedatives and a small coterie of summoned Marids to keep watch and alert you if something changes.

The Grand Library (8th Floor, highly limited access) - A library with shelves as large and tall as skyscrapers, potentially even larger and taller deeper within, and aisles between them as wide as streets and boulevards. Locked away behind a heavily enchanted golden gate, requiring a key. Everything within is immune to any form of precise divination because of the gate's magic. Illumination provided by small, floating will-o'-wisps in a rainbow of colors, as well as soft omnipresent amber radiance.

The Storage Room (8th Floor, highly limited access) - Exactly opposite the Grand Library, has almost identical characteristics in every way, except the shelves appear to hold magical items, the gate is made of dark iron, and instead of will-o'-wisps, the streets are patrolled by armored knight-like constructs holding lanterns and swords or spears.

The Study (9th Floor, highly limited access) - All parameters as per Storage Room or Grand Library, except the gate is made of a clear, white, silverish or platinum-like metal. Little can be seen of the room within, except bookshelves, a scribe's desk, a number of looming vertical windows, and blue-tallowed candles.

The Workshop (9th Floor, theorized) - A secondary gate within the Study leads to what's been dubbed the Workshop. Has a ritual circle surrounded on every side by pillars. On the extremely far side, Penelope could only barely observe what she said resembled alchemical equipment with her enhanced eyesight.

The Astral Laboratory (10th Floor, limited access) - Orrery chamber. A room surrounded by a strange frame-like scaffolding of brass and gold, with a glowing orb descending into the middle, resembling an orrery. The ceiling, wall, and floor are dark and covered with small glowing lights that resemble known constellations. In the middle, someone has left a number of half-scrawled diagrams and celestial charts.

There are many other chambers on each Floor, although these are the most interesting ones, as well as ones that are likely to be of immediate use and to which you have some measure of access.

It seems not everything can be opened with magic. The Gates you've encountered appear to be tied to Keys, whose location you cannot divine - breaking the enchantments totally would be a titanic effort, requiring incredible investment on your part. Your classmates have some use here. Where do you focus your efforts?

[ ] Gradual Clear - First, open the easiest and simplest locks, and lift the most rudimentary enchantments, starting from easiest and ascending in difficulty. Aside from serving as decent practice, it opens the widest space to exploration in the meantime for the rest of your classmates.

[ ] Focused Clear - Focus on a particular Floor or chamber. Which one? (Write-in)

[ ] Focused Clear (Force) [-30 Will] - Focused Clear, increased odds / measure of success. (Write-in)

---

Will: 80
Credit: 2.1
XP: 1,800
 
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The Rosary World
The Rosary World

The Tower's design philosophy differed wildly on each level, as every floor seemed to have its own central, unifying concept. Countless chambers were wholly cluttered with dust-drowned furniture, occasionally revealing minor treasures: lanterns running on magical energy, rings bespelled to alter fortune, skillfully made clothing and astrological tools, and a smattering of more common goods, from canned food to ancient, near-wilted collections of dried herbs and preserved berries. It seemed naturally obvious to Solomon that most of the Tower's secrets were locked away on the higher floors, and matching their desirability, the security was more stringent.

"It's incredible, this Tower," muttered Solomon.

Raising an eyebrow with some curiosity, Harrison remarked, "You don't sound very awed."

"No," said Solomon, "Believe me, it really is. Incredible. An incredible pain in my ass."

"Heh."

"You find my torment delicious, Harrison?"

"Sure," said Harrison, smiling cockily, "It's pretty funny that you've made yourself into our team crowbar."

A deep sigh left Solomon's lips, as he cast out the fullness of his will into yet another locked door. Like a computer, awakened to life with a button's press, its abjurations came online and refuted him. He simply wrapped destructive intention about them, channeling the Destroyer's Aspect and kneading its ethereal entropy like a hangman's rope. Then, with a sharp twist; like the teeth of a wolf locked around a helpless deer's throat, he crushed its resistance, wards clattering away like aetherial chains split from strain.

Inside, the chamber appeared like a church's interior, albeit with no obvious Christian or even Abrahamic iconography: a long red carpet with decoratively carved walnut pews on the sides, its length culminating in an altar set with an immaculate white cloth, as well as stained windows that showed abstract scenography.

After casting a full array of divinations to ensure there weren't any hidden booby traps, Solomon nodded in affirmation, and Harrison entered alongside a team of support Marids, each one specialized for one of scouting, retrieval, and fighting. A curious Samantha peeked in and skipped after them merrily down the carpet.

In the meantime, Solomon sat down, back against the cold stone wall, and exhaled tiredly.

As if sensing a groove in destiny, Noah, of all people, approached him and folded his arms, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Solomon. "Long day?"

"It must be if you're the one asking me this," said Solomon, all his thoughts gradually returning to guilt-ridden darkness, remembering Penelope's approval. She'd believed, with a sincere heart, that he'd been doing his square best, even when that was entirely and provably false.

"No reason to get angry with me, Lancaster. Just checking in on a pal of mine."

"Sure," said Solomon. "Except you're a dick, and with no real reason, either."

"Where do you get off calling me a dick, Lancaster?" snarled Noah, with a nasty expression, suddenly angered. "Unlike half of these goobers, I'm actually pulling my damn weight, aware that we're in for a tough fucking competition ahead of us. You're not the only one in this Tower opening doors, either. At least I'm tryin' shit."

That much was true, at least.

Even so, a pervasive part of Solomon couldn't shake the idea, now, that he definitively should've been doing more all along - not even necessarily in the sense of aiding his classmates, as much as trying to apply himself: not as a student, but as a human being. Guilt was as valid a motive to do better as any, wasn't it?

"You're trying, huh? Tell you what - do you remember our bet from the start of this year?"

"Sure," said Noah, raising an eyebrow, anger faded and swiftly replaced with tentative curiosity. Clearly, he didn't expect such a trivial subject to be brought up again. "I don't have Earth money on me, but I can spot you some local currency if that's what you need."

"If you don't pick on Damien anymore, I'll consider it settled."

There was a moment of silence, as if a dreadful shroud had settled over the hallway, casting everything into disarray. A veil shuffled over the future, twilight obscuring once-certain threads; a moment of critical inflection, as a section of the Architecture strained with effort to defy a commandment; attempting to hold onto a hard, solid truth of reality. The only sound was the distant footsteps from inside the church chamber, a hushed and unaware conversation between Harrison and Samantha. Then, a click rang within the Architecture, as sprockets finally gave out and settled into a new arrangement, and Noah ended up nodding.

"Sure. Let's settle that," said Noah, voice simple and without deception. "You have my word I won't ever touch the nerd or speak to him again. Well, unless I actually got a proper reason, of course. It was dumb of me anyway, a total waste of time."

"You're still an unempathetic, self-absorbed dick," said Solomon, not the least ashamed or afraid of saying it, "but at least you're improving."

"Not like Hartwell, huh?" Noah didn't appear outwardly offended, and Solomon had the distinct, firm impression the same mood held on the inside: blithe acceptance of Solomon's statement, understanding it as truth. "What else can I do to improve, oh almighty Wizard of Oz?"

After a second of contemplation, Solomon decided to make use of this opportunity, instead of discharging pointless, sarcastic vitriol. "For starters, calling people by their actual name, or at least Role, without any of the biting sarcasm."

"Fine. You're a real ray of sunshine, Sol."

"Hrm, shortened name but with sarcasm. A step in the right direction, at least. Keep practicing."

"Uh-huh, talk to you later, I'll go check out that staircase," said Noah, and trod off with a dismissive wave of the hand.

Although Solomon was perfectly aware of the facts, he deigned not to inform the Emperor the aforementioned staircase was inexpertly booby-trapped. He also decided that he'd play dumb if later asked about it. Noah would live, and hopefully learn a lesson about rubbing his paws over glowing floor tiles.

---

From your incremental clearing of the Tower, you've unsealed a countless number of inconsequential chambers, and gained partial access to the Library and Armory, only succeeding in 'pushing' the Gates inward a little.

After establishing a Sanctum in an empty room you've decided to use as a bedroom and workshop, you've once more focused on upcoming matters of import.

Will: 135
Credit: 2.4
XP: 1,900


Choose one lesser artifact or boon from the Tower:

[ ] Magna Magica, Vol. I - Increase your effective (not mechanical) Arcanum by .05 Aspect Levels, focused on versatility and luck-based spellcraft.
[ ] Mage's Armor - A protective amulet in the form of a silver disk on a rope of white gold, grants effective shielding roughly equivalent to heavy armor covering the body.
[ ] Array of Enhancing Focus - Increase your effective (not mechanical) Sanctum by .1 Aspect Levels, as long as your Sanctum remains the Magician's Tower.
[ ] Blaster Wand - Offensive wand, shoots sparks of crimson lightning-like magical energy; lightning forks and chains, seeking out foes, avoiding allies. Can slay a battalion of peak-human foes with one shot; virtually doesn't run out of ammunition in the field, although has to be charged between 'missions' with a short ritual.
[ ] Write-in - You may write-in your own idea, as long as it is visibly weaker than any of the above.

Here's your December schedule, take your picks. As normal, three (3) actions are given - one of them is already pre-committed to Exploration.

[ ] 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.

[ ] Improve Curriculum [-270 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.

[ ] Christmas Party Preparation [-50 Will] - Aid Penelope, Harrison, Grace, Chloe, and some of your other fellow classmates in preparing a Christmas party to celebrate your first Christmas as Enrolled. A time to make memories that'll last a lifetime, celebrate, and forget your worries among friends. Includes preparing modest gifts for your friends.
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Attend Party [-10 Will
, costs no Action] - Offer no aid, but participate anyway. Can prepare a minor gift for a single person (write-in.)
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Derive Formula of Salvation [-100 Will]
- Make an in-depth study of Abraham's metaphysiology, in an attempt to derive the magics of his spirit. Can eventually aid in the mitigation of his Life of Battle, if you feel like being helpful. Once you're done, you can initiate yourself into Soteriomancy. A complex action; it'll most likely take more than one month to finish your experiments at your current Arcanum, requiring you to accrue a sufficient 'quantity of success' that'll be rolled for.

[ ] Bonding [-5 Will]
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Interaction [-10 Will]
-[ ] Visit Judas [-10 Will]
-[ ] Investigate Apostles [-20 Will]
- Full effort spent on investigating the Apostles who accosted you. Learn more about the players on the chessboard. Can be delegated to Marids or Penelope now, costing substantially less Will.
-[ ] Speak to Apostles [-5 Will, costs no Action] - Agree to, or deny their demands. If you'd like, you can instead ask them questions or interact normally.
-[ ] 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.
-[ ] Leave the Club - Leaving, at the moment, costs [80 Will]. As an essential asset, they'll do what they can to bribe you to stay.

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

[ ] Write-in
 
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Mechanolatric Coordination
Mechanolatric Coordination

In the middle of December, as Christmas preparations occurred, came an Architectural sense of mutability, a shift of the atmosphere, as if someone had changed destiny's state of matter into a more fluid one: everything was malleable and yet serenely slow to compensate for it, almost like molasses.

Then, as if a switch were returned to its default zero state, it passed.

As Solomon had never experienced such an occurrence, he sought answers from the Educator during their next remedial class - only to find Penelope also sitting in the man's office, angel wings tucked almost embarrassedly behind her.

"Hey, Sol," she only said with a faint wave of the hand, as he stared at her mutedly.

"Despite the immense risks to sanity and cognition undertaken in attempting Architectural accession without guidance, I must congratulate you both!" the Educator chirped, hands steepled. "I've never, ever seen anything like this! Be proud, you are well-educated."

Then, as if nothing at all were wrong or new, the Educator immediately launched into a verbose explanation of the basic rudiments, simultaneously also teaching Solomon a completely new, more advanced topic regarding the number twenty-two and its significance with a separate voice, as Penelope struggled to catch up. Throughout the remedial lesson, Solomon found himself constantly distracted by Penelope's attentive mien and occasional questioning articulation. As if nothing were wrong. As if this were simply any normal Enrollment class. Her new status as a fellow seer was Architecturally clear to him: like an astral badge shining outwards from her heart.

Once they were outside, Solomon cornered Penelope with a frustrated expression.

"Alright. Now, I have to ask - what the fuck are you doing, learning the secret structure of the universe out of nowhere? How did you even manage to do it? I'm not talkative, but I'm fairly damn sure I'd mentioned at some point this shit's beyond dangerous."

"I invested into Truthseeker as you advised, along with the helpful use of a couple of artifacts," she answered primly. "Then experimented. I don't intend to sit down and rest on my laurels simply because of our attainment on Pangothica, especially not with the dangers to which I was so recently oblivious."

There was something else, unstated, but Solomon's instinct promised that pressing her on this was a terrible idea. Instead, he directed his attention to her earlier words, letting out a sigh of annoyance. "So you're an Architecturalist? Just like that?"

"Yes," she said. "Just like that."

His stone-hard stare, full of accusation, continued to mercilessly bore into her. An eyebrow elevated as Penelope remarked, "You don't seem very happy."

"Yeah, I'm a tad annoyed that I've had to contend with this damn fucking prediction Cassandra-bullshit curse my entire life, only to recently start turning it into something even vaguely resembling a blessing - and you get to conveniently skip all the steps and reap the superpowers. It sucks."

"Well, don't be mad at me," she contended, as if upset at him being upset. "Be mad at whatever douchebag cosmic force made things this way."

"Be mad at the universe," he stated blankly.

"Yeah." She offered him a heart-brightening smile, a radiant expression conferring soulful and profound sympathy with a cheerful outlook; one that made even the cloud of anger and unfairness dissipate. "Look on the bright side, misery loves company! I did this entire thing so I could know what it's like to see things the way you do, Sol."

"It won't be especially miserable for you now that you've started learning," he answered, still a mote unsatisfied with the unfairness of the entire matter - even if he realized, on an intellectual level, this was a dumb feeling to have. "I only ever suffered because it came naturally to me. Too naturally..."

It never would've been a problem for her, since Penelope established a firm pattern of downright rebuking destiny and its myriad proclamations. A fate written absolutely in stone, she could effortlessly scrub off, like writing faded from a palimpsest. No effort could the Architecture spare in attempting to lash her to its designs, only to fail each time. She didn't care about God's immaculate blueprint and substituted it with her own, casting aside a marble sculptor's masterpiece to profoundly display a crayon drawing instead. And she made it work, as well, somehow - the crayons miraculously eliciting deep sorrowful emotion in art critics from across the world, to complete the metaphor.

For a moment, the ridiculousness started to sink in. Solomon found himself mildly enamored and lost in that pattern of defiant victories, the abundant snarls she flippantly left behind in the kismet-fabric of the universe, like a woman scattering anomalous stars over the heavens.

Before him stood an anomaly. The central coordinate of some vast, incomprehensible skein. A dread being that defied heaven's authority with every act.

He shivered a little.

"You alright? Not scaring you off with my searing brilliance, am I, Sol? I realize it can be a lot to take in." Her raised eyebrow now curved with catlike amusement, an uncharacteristic and unsettling emotion. He considered the terrifying degree of agency she possessed, relative to his own meager will. If she only desired it, could she not end Solomon where he stood with one Edict? Or render him a pliant toy throughout a single well-structured conversation, as he once might've been able to do to their peers? A single crucial observation with those Truthseeking eyes of hers could've collapsed any universe where he didn't simply become an orbiter of heroic gravity.

His silence amplified Penelope's worries. Her easygoing temperance disappeared, concerns surfacing like storm clouds.

"Solomon?"

"I was only considering..." he said, the words slow and hesitant to come out, like moles out of their subterranean nooks, eyes staring into her as if to locate the source of that effulgent resistance to the universal order, "You're, like, not a human being, right?"

"That's... huh?"

"I mean, what are the odds? I'm a cosmic anomaly as I am," he explained, words starting to flow now; not like water from a faucet, but more as a river did, the onrushing torrent full of pressure that demanded a forward vector; ideas coming faster than lips could release them. "Something that doesn't fit into the scheme, a puzzle piece that doesn't go anywhere. What are you, then? Even when you couldn't sense it, you've defied the Architecture thrice now, that I know. Have you been doing this your entire life? Casting snarls and shadows over the entire damn thing? Once was an anomaly, twice was a freak of nature, this is... now you can see it? What are you? Seriously?"

Once his soliloquy was finished, Penelope offered him a more somber look. Her expression was cast down, contemplative, eyes moving with slow understanding, as if connecting physical dots. She was clearly ruminating over the words he said. Finally, she said:

"I'm your friend," she said. For the couple of months he'd started getting to know Penelope, this was the most sincere she'd ever sounded. There was a conviction to her words, now. "I never had real friends, except arguably my family. I don't think you did either. But I think you and I are similar and care about a lot of similar things. Deep down, we really want to help the people around us, those we care about. And we want to make the world a better place. I don't have any idea what kind of freak anomaly I am, but I'm one that cares about you, Sol. If you think there's something dangerous about me, I hope you could help me find out what it is."

He stared for a time, uncertain how to answer. His heart clenched once more with soul-crushing guilt at her decisive proclamation of improving the world together, such a cheesy line spoken with such utter conviction it looped back around to a casual statement. It felt so oddly confidential, a spilling of the heart and mind to another. Even back when he could essentially read people's minds from the vaguest of environmental clues, no conversation had connected him so deeply with another human being.

He wanted to say so much. Tell her she was wrong. That he was a coward who'd rather stay in his shell.

He failed the test of courage and simply nodded instead, dispelling the last of the nervous doldrums. "Thank you, Penny. I feel... similar."

She offered him a smile. "Merry Christmas, Sol... speaking of which, we should really go down and help the others with the preparations."

"Right," he saliently agreed. "I guess we should."

---

Here are some of your earlier Christmas ideas:

*Collaborate with Samantha helping her make gifts for the class and the Educator.

*Finish removing the curse from the Liminal Ox and transform it into the Ox-Headed Sphinx of the Chariot with your Potioncraft, summonable and bound as a familiar to Harrison, tied to his Thematics with Connections.

*For the Educator's gift bring up the following idea to Samantha. Should she be on board, perhaps a tapestry embroidered with the Tree of Life with all the Tarot Roles in their paths. Threads that glint with the flow of energy once activated. Inspired from the pocket watch Solomon saw the Educator use in the trip. Enchanted with Connections so that the Educator can tap his Thematics into it to power it for an easier visual to see how the Roles are progressing and as a report card.

Consider Harrison and the Educator's Gifts as done.

Now, assign two (2) other Gifts to your other closest friends and confidantes, giving a smorgasbord of less powerful or varied items to everyone else in Class. If nothing is written in, Solomon will automatically gift narratively appropriate items/services:

[ ] Penelope: [Write-in]
[ ] Damien: [Write-in]
[ ] Write-in (assign a Gift to someone else)


How do you feel about Penelope?

[ ] Reassured - You're friends and she's not some evil mastermind. There's no reason to overcomplicate matters.
[ ] Guilt-Ridden - She's got the wrong idea about you. Endeavor to change that in the future.
[ ] Terrified - If she can defy the Architecture on a whim, she can probably also kill you on a whim.
[ ] Terrified, But Vaguely Turned On - If she can defy the Architecture on a whim, she can probably also kill you on a whim... but that's kind of hot? (Only available because you almost rolled a 69.)

The next update is Christmas revelry.
 
All Bright
All Bright

After five days of attentive work, the Christmas party was ready.

A solitary chamber - an empty hall with one chandelier - once tranquil and silent, now echoed with a sonorous melody of festive nature, a sound of bells and angelic humming. Adorned with silver garlands, each wall and ceiling exuded an unending font of merriment. At the heart of the decorated space reigned a colossal Christmas tree, its golden star nearly caressing the lofty ceiling. Bedecked with vibrant baubles, crystalline icicles, and a spectrum of luminous, polychromatic lights, it emanated a splendor, as if carrying an ovule of the holiday's Thematics.

An enchanted flurry of harmless magical snowflakes danced gracefully, creating an illusory tempest bereft of any chill, a blizzard that playfully encouraged conversation and movement. Primly white-clothed tables strewn with delicacies beckoned the students forth, boasting prime rib, roast beef tenderloin, gingerbread delicacies, decadent chocolate fudge, and an array of other festive delights.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," said Penelope with a tender smile, standing in the center of the room. A crystalline sphere was hovering before her, carrying her voice harmoniously across the room, into every ear. Her voice was a little somber. "Enrollment is not as easy as people often think. It's not as though the Educator hands out superhuman power at no cost. Already, we've had a couple of close calls during some of our delves. When I was a little girl, I'd sometimes ask my dad how it was over at the Academy - to be Enrolled and learn from the Educator. And he'd tell me it was difficult, often without elaboration. Now I understand what he meant."

In the meantime, sitting in a corner and savoring the rich flavor of a mug of eggnog, Solomon arched an inquisitive brow.

"However, you can look at this another way. Four months seems trivial, I know, but consider everything we've done. Think about it. We've completed a full semester. That's one of six. We're about fifteen percent done. Repeat this only a couple more times, and we'll be out there, with the rest of the world. I hope that once we're back on Earth, we can show them the fruit of our efforts. No matter what, though, I don't think we could've done this without a collective effort, without each other. All challenges of Education become harder over time. It always gets like that. Let's keep working hard and working together. Merry Christmas!"

After Penelope's speech, there was a period of intermingling - eating food, discussing events, casual conversation. Although not an especially social type, Solomon participated in some of it, actually enjoying interaction with some of his less abrasive peers when the Architecture didn't push against the current of his thoughts so firmly, willing to give individual inches away. He offered Damien some advice, solace, and a piece of cake, patting him on the shoulder. Then, he departed, into the quieter corners of the hall, where the silver-white light of the myriad festive magics and illusion of snowfall didn't reach. Guided by magic and uncanny insight, Solomon turned a corner and encountered Sandra, sitting on her own in a dark alcove. She looked unsettled as if she'd seen something profoundly disturbing.

"Are you okay?"

She started, glancing up. Her clothing was modest, even if Samantha had a clear hand in the creation of some of its elements: a choker with a silver skull on it, a dark shirt with silver buttons, and an adornment resembling an ebony-black capelet, glossy to the faint light. Gothic elegance, although without the usual, supernatural flamboyant excess most of their classmates now bore on a casual basis, after only some four months of Enrollment.

"I- yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Meditating."

"On?"

"Death."

"As in, your Role, or death as a concept?" Solomon raised an eyebrow.

"Both, I guess."

"There's a Christmas party happening, you know?" His prompt went totally unaddressed, causing him to further add, taking a step forward and offering a hand: "No one should have to feel excluded, come on."

"You're the Magician," she muttered in realization, eyes widening a little. "Can you look at what's happening, like, in Ohio?"

"Like, scry Ohio?" He started blinking at that, not expecting such a question. "Back on Earth?"

She nodded.

"Alright... sure, can I ask why?"

"I have a bad vibe."

"About Ohio...?" He wondered if this was a setup for some cheap meme, the sort he'd seen online a couple of times, about Ohio being something bizarre, downright out of an entirely different dimension, although he'd not believed Sandra to be the sort of person to make such jokes.

"Look, I can't explain it," she said. "I get vibes. Like, premonitions. Role thing."

He nodded, familiar with the idea. "Alright, give me a second."

He reached into an extradimensional pouch on his belt and fished out a slim tube containing a clear, turquoise liquid. He unstoppered, and downing all of its contents in a single swallow. Then, closing his eyes, Solomon spoke incantations of divination, enhanced by unbridled will. The elixir's clarifying and questing effect kicked in, arranging the array of blurred images within his neurons into clear visions, further drawing on Architectural insight to boost the signal of his divinatory reach. Soon, scenes availed themselves, snapshots proceeding in orderly fashion, with a sense of directions he could search in.

"There's something happening," he commented. "In... uh, Columbus? Columbus, Ohio. I see, I see... the Terrorist."

"What's he doing?" asked Sandra's voice, sounding faint and muted, as if speaking through a pool of water - or from some ether overhead.

"He's shooting at Nightcowl and fleeing with a helicopter. Threatening to set off a nuclear device? No, only a dirty bomb. He'll... fail, I think, although I'm not sure. Predicting Enrolled is difficult. There's something else here. Some kind of interference, can't say what it is..."

"What does the interference feel like?" asked Sandra.

"Hm. Hard to say," answered Solomon - curious himself, now, as he'd not seen anything of this flavor. The Educator's lessons challenged him with batteries of different warding and anti-divinatory structures, but none of them seemed this subtle, this integral to reality's fabric - so absent of natural resonance, as if everything were forcefully pretending nothing was happening at all. A moment of triangulation over the areas of Columbus revealed some irregularities within the strength of the source, or rather, how irregular it was. Almost as if there were several emitters of interference: more than two, less than seven. Difficult to say beyond that. "Very natural, though."

"Natural?" asked Sandra. "Like, you're not meant to see the source of it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, you can stop looking."

After Solomon opened his eyes, he felt the lingering edification of the potion immediately drain itself out of his system, augurial spellcraft collapsing ignobly like a ladder cut apart with buzzsaws. "So, what was I looking at, Sandra? Aside from, like, a Terrorist attack, I guess?"

"Not sure yet," she said, almost a mutter, as she looked down. "Thanks, Sol."

His answer was fraught with uncertainty, "You're welcome? I'd seriously appreciate more information though. That felt weird as hell, and you seem to know more about it. Can you stop acting suspicious and tell me?"

She looked down, unnerved. "I'm not sure myself, honestly. I'm not sure if I'm not fucking schizo. I've... well, the Educator's been teaching me an Aspect, over the last two months, that lets me predict death. Like, before it happens. I can sense risks, hazards, and I can sense as they approach a hundred percent. I... my idea for after I'm out of the Academy is trying to find a job in Archetype's Disaster Response. I've been practicing my death-finding range, so I can almost detect individual deaths in the nearest cities surrounding the Academy; on Fortuna, I mean. That place... Columbus, Ohio, I mean - even though it's on Earth, I can still sense it. Even though it should be way, way beyond me. Something big's gonna happen there, something deadly as fuck, but I can't tell what. Something else is blocking my sight out."

Solomon stilled at the explanation, unnerved. "We should tell Bible Class about it," he commented. It was common practice - delivering messages to Earth through one's upperclassmen. "They're graduating in half a year. They can get a message out, assuming it doesn't occur earlier than that."

"Not sure," answered Sandra. "All I feel is the vibe from that place."

It might've been an option if he'd learned of this incident earlier, but Penelope already expended a full use of her Christmas present from Solomon, contacting her family and speaking with them for about three minutes. Otherwise, he might've proposed informing the Olympian so they could properly check it out.

"Are you sure it's not the Terrorist?" asked Solomon, if only to double-check. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he was about to set off a dirty bomb."

"Look, call me... call me fucking crazy, if you want. I know what it sounds like, but..." Sandra trailed off, uncertain, "but I think the Terrorist's, like, long-term reducing the death toll of whatever's gonna happen there. Trying to prevent it maybe."

"You didn't mention any of this before tonight, to anyone," Solomon pointed out.

"I only started feeling it recently."

"How recently?"

"Like, a week ago? But it felt even more indistinct back then. I wasn't sure what I was looking at. It's really spiked tonight."

He frowned. "I'll tell Penny and we'll figure something out. It might well have to be a sit-and-wait-on-our-asses scenario, though. Regardless, we should get back to the party. Not much we can do about whatever this is."

She nodded, then followed along as they returned to the ballroom. Penelope, as if sensing an emergency with the acuteness of a medium, excused herself from a conversation with Harrison and Ethan, holding a mug of hot cocoa and wearing a Santa hat, approaching them.

"Situation?" she asked preemptively, sipping from the mug.

"Unknown," answered Solomon. "An obscure form of danger in Columbus, Ohio."

Penelope frowned. "On Earth?"

He nodded back. "Yeah."

She set down the mug on a nearby table. "Okay. Anything else you can tell me about it?"

"Sandra?" prompted Solomon.

"I've... got an Aspect I've been practicing. It lets me see and predict death," she said. "I can't normally see much further than Timiton, here on Fortuna. I can sense that something terrible will happen in Columbus, though. I can't tell how soon or what sort of death it is, though. We think the Terrorist is involved, but if anything, he seems to be acting as a reduction on the effect?"

Penelope nodded along to Sandra's report, prompting further words to come out, then stopping once Sandra ran out of explanations to offer. "Alright, I understand." Then she stilled. "Shit... If I hadn't used the basin..."

"It's fine," Solomon reassured, and looked at Sandra imploringly. "Can you try? Try and predict how far-off this is? Even a vague estimate is good."

"Uhm... a bit after the new school year? Yeah, I think after September."

"Alright, no worries then," said Solomon. He looked at Penelope. "We tell the Bible Class and they'll let Archetype know."

She nodded tentatively, a bit curious. "Hm, I suppose."

"Hope I didn't destroy the mood," said Sandra.

"Not at all," answered Penelope, taking the girl's shoulder and dragging her along to a nearby table. "Come on, let's get something to eat..."

Solomon remained standing on his own and contemplated the potential nature of this incident. He'd seen militias on the street running wild and stealing mobile devices only to crush them; explosions in school buildings, and strangely, on tennis courts, in cemeteries and graveyards, and even a couple of libraries that had computers but not ones without; as if the Terrorist had extremely, highly specific targets in mind: attempting to flush someone out, or prevent someone from doing something within those locations. There was a strange meliorist note to this, a sense of arrayed purpose which he associated with Architectural insight, preventing action by changing something on the most fundamental level of reality. As if someone else with available access to Architecturalism prompted the Terrorist to carry out these actions, in the name of fighting some overarching threat. He couldn't see the final aim of whatever they were attempting to achieve, though.

And moreover, who could've done that? As far as Solomon knew, only himself, the Educator, the Metaphysicist, and now Penelope had access to the art. Three of the four were in the Academy, and the Metaphysicist was in some far-off ontology fighting demons.

After a couple of minutes, Solomon decided to contemplate this on a day that wasn't Christmas.

---

Will: 150
Credit: 6.8
XP: 935


January, 2026, starts with the Terrorist's arrest and prosecution. As a result of your character development, coming to terms with guilt, and learning to depend upon yourself and Penelope, you've gained a permanent +15 to passive Will generation. Your willpower is below-average, relative to a normal human being, although no longer abysmal.

Penelope's Report, re: Apostles

A chunk of Penelope's December was looking into the Apostles from Bible Class. Among other measures, she'd questioned members of both of your upper Classes on what they knew, and personally spoke to each of the Apostles. According to her - although she admits herself that her opinion shouldn't be held as a perfect accounting - they seem like reasonable people with a past history of overall benevolent and reasonable accord, never initiating hostilities with other parties, always attempting to resolve for maximum satisfaction on all sides. They work alongside the Enrolled known as the Messiah, and seem intent on forming their own faction post-graduation.

Among some of their actions she could confirm actually happened:
*Bartering a sort of 'peace deal' between their own upperclassmen, the Steampunk and Space Opera Themes, when a conflict emerged.
*After Space Opera graduated, maintaining peace amongst some of the members of the Children's Fiction Class, and providing guidance on Aspect use and what to expect.
*Resolving the 'overarching conflict of their own Theme World,' whatever the hell that means. Penelope doesn't know either, outside of them... apparently talking Satan into being a good guy?

According to her estimates, the Apostles are more or less evenly matched with you, if not your superiors in power, so if they want to force the issue and kill you, escape is your best option. If you want muscle when you meet with them, she'll come along with you.

Normally, you'd have three actions - but one continues its commitment to the Surveyor's Clubs unless you quit - leaving you with two 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.

[ ] Improve Curriculum [-240 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.

[ ] Derive Formula of Salvation [-100 Will] - Make an in-depth study of Abraham's metaphysiology, in an attempt to derive the magics of his spirit. Can eventually aid in the mitigation of his Life of Battle, if you feel like being helpful. Once you're done, you can initiate yourself into Soteriomancy. A complex action; it'll most likely take more than one month to finish your experiments at your current Arcanum, requiring you to accrue a sufficient 'quantity of success' that'll be rolled for.

[ ] Bonding [-5 Will]
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Interaction [-10 Will]
-[ ] Speak to Apostles [-5 Will
, costs no Action] - Agree to, or deny their demands. If you'd like, you can instead ask them questions or interact normally.
-[ ] 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.
-[ ] Leave the Club - Leaving, at the moment, costs [80 Will]. As an essential asset, they'll do what they can to bribe you to stay.

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

[ ] Write-in
 
Apocalyptic Omens
Apocalyptic Omens

After New Year's Eve, the everyday hustle of Enrollment continued inexorably. However, Solomon chose not to waste any time on trivial learning, especially not when lives were in danger. The Educator's reception of Solomon's revelation and Sandra's foresight was lukewarm: an acknowledgment followed by a polite demand to return to the lesson's contents, followed by a short apology the Educator couldn't do more to help. It was a dismissal, if an eloquent one.

The Surveyors were, fortunately, a different matter - swift to understand, eager to trust - and soon an expedition was launched to collect and assemble a base of artifacts to aid Solomon in conducting a working to contact Archetype as soon as possible.

As January neared its middle, he and Penelope demanded an audience with the Messiah - and were granted it, alongside the discretion to enter their classroom.

The Messiah's receiving room was a spacious and crowded affair, decorated humbly and full of dignitaries apparently from the Bible Theme's world: colorful rugs and cushions massed around low tables, silver rather than golden ornament, and plentiful open windows to the outside, allowing in rays of golden sunshine. All preceding a throne more resembling a carved wooden chair, on which the man himself sat - crowned by thorns - reading through memorandums and communiques handed by his associates.

Inside, Solomon's paranatural senses observed an array of subtle enchantments and blessings, scattered over the room like draperies and ornaments, ones that sank into his mind like gentle needles: promoting concord and wisdom with minimal reductions in agency, maintaining a healthy, affable mood in those affected; even making all manipulations of even the finest scale blatant such that even rhetorical flourishes were stripped away, forcing arguments to stand or fall on their own merits. He deemed the alterations acceptable and hummed with pleasure as he strode through the chamber.

The Messiah was dressed in nothing but a fine-drawn linen kaftan and sandals. The crown of thorns dug avariciously into his scalp, almost sapient in its malice, a sensation of magic so thick it drowned Solomon's senses with malevolence.

And yet, the valence of that animosity seemed contained solely to its constant, spirited attempts at destroying the Messiah: thorns endlessly boring through the skull like unceasing drills in vain hopes of piercing the brain shielded beneath, and constantly rebuffed by an Aspect; an ephemeral light of the spirit, converting the agony it dealt to its recipient into the same reinforcement that adamantly refused it any further advance: an ironic method of containment, felling the evil artifact by the blade of its own spite. The more firmly it pushed with murderous intent, the more firmly the Messiah would resist its evil.

His expression looked eminently distracted by the pain, yet the man schooled it as Solomon and Penelope approached.

"You're the Arcanists, I take it?"

"Arcanists?" asked Solomon cluelessly.

"Calling you the Tarot Class is unwieldy," answered the man with a slight smile. "A cultural convention developed some time ago suggests condensing a Theme's name into one, convenient word. We are the Theologians, as we 'study the Bible,' and learn from it. That'd make you, students of the Tarot, the Arcanists."

"Sensible. What are the Children's Fiction Class, then?" asked Penelope.

"Most call them Quixotists," cut in the man that Solomon recognized as Peter, the impromptu leader of the Apostles.

"I am partial to calling them goddamn Children-" started Judas, from where he was seated, off to the side of the court and doing something with a stack of documents and an implement resembling a dreidel - only seemingly having caught the conversation by the edge of his ear. He still bore a couple of faint scars of the Engine's punishment, the affected skin visibly redder than its surrounding patches, although no longer the patched, mottled mess of horrifically burned flesh that it'd once been.

"Judas," said the Messiah warningly, "Not in front of the guests, please."

"Whatever, Chris."

"Sorry about that," said the Messiah. "Also, as Judas said, you should feel more than free to call me Chris, or Christopher. I find it engenders a more equitable atmosphere. Some of the people here are at least partially Christian and feel uncomfortable being casual around me, and the less said about the people from our world and their insistence on calling me, 'Your Excellency,' the better. At the end of the day, it's important to remember that I'm only some dude with a Role to play. And one that, quite honestly, I suspect I've been granted at least partly through nominative determinism."

"Huh, is his name actually Judas, then?" asked Solomon, turning to the aforementioned Enrolled.

"No, he simply prefers it," said Chris, to which Judas nodded.

"I see."

Now impassive and a touch more formal, the Messiah - or Christopher, as he preferred - continued: "From what I remember, I sent three of my Apostles to speak with you a couple of months ago, and request some form of assurance and negotiation that you won't become a threat to the world," he preempted, reminding Solomon of that entire meeting and its rather unsatisfyingly inconclusive ending. He also painfully predicted the next thing the Messiah was about to say: dissatisfaction with the constant delays and waiting, his reticence to make an actual choice, or even research his interlocutors. Solomon was tempted to cringe inwardly and shut his eyes closed as the Messiah spoke.

"...I am happy to see you've taken our request seriously and fulfilled it to the best of your ability."

Solomon's eyes flickered open in surprise. "Huh?"

"Maya, can you come here for a second?"

A young pretty brunette of a woman, occupied with a stone tablet in another section of the room, raised her head with slight surprise and approached them. She looked at the Messiah wordlessly as he nodded in Solomon and Penelope's direction.

"Give them a token," said Christopher saliently, to which Maya produced - from nothing - a small phosphoric ribbon, like a miniature sizzling star made into a polished length of cloth. Penelope accepted it gingerly. "This is a token of my esteem - yes, I know it doesn't look like a token - and which will allow you to contact me with priority, no matter where you are. It'll also allow you to make copies of it, as long as your intentions are pure in disseminating it to people whom I'd also like to give my esteem to. Consider yourselves friends of mine, as well as under my protection."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand - how did we fulfill your request?" asked Penelope diplomatically, even as she handled the 'token.'

The man, scalp still bleeding continuously from the crown of thorns malevolently eating away at his skull, smiled enigmatically. "Friendship."

"Friendship?"

"You are, as I can clearly see, a just and benevolent person - a fact further solidified by your Role, which bears the authority of Justice itself - and whom, as far as I can tell, intends to spare no effort in bettering the world. In sharing the considerable dross of his eldritch and ritualistic power with you, Solomon Lancaster proved he possesses a rare type of faculty, a certain grace: the ability to share the fruit of his efforts with others, to bear an expense to the self in the name of others. To trust another, rather than to hoard power selfishly," the Messiah explained with great and effulgent patience and generosity, smiling down at them with paternalistic pride.

"Not only that," added Saint Peter, "but also, in doing this, he's inevitably furthered the cause of Justice, and therefore all things Good."

The Messiah nodded along to his Apostle's words and looked at Solomon with a smile. "Your action alone bears a stronger testimony to the true nature of your character than any geasa or chirograph could've. Magic may bend and be bent, but the underlying truth of a human heart stays the same regardless of the might of their thews."

"Wow," was the only word that came out of Solomon's mouth at the end of that explanation.

"Yeah, wow," agreed Penelope.

"No, I mean," Solomon started, uncertain how to phrase this, "I think I did it at least partially because it was a more efficient form of imbuement?"

"Admittedly, the material conditions that impact a decision aren't wholly irrelevant: sin, after all, is born largely out of the necessity and imperfection imposed on human beings by their dwellings, environments, and the others around them. Even so, you could've chosen a less costly, personal elevation - one that'd push you ahead of others by miles," said the Messiah, rising from his throne and spreading his arms. "Instead, you chose to share power with someone you trusted to be good. Maybe even better than yourself, morally speaking. That speaks to a good heart, which is something I appreciate." The man started to clap.

Soon after, others in the room also started clapping - a brief, congratulatory ode to Solomon's decision on the day of his trip to Pangothica - after which the Messiah sat down on his throne, relaxing a little.

"Now, I believe you had something else to broach with me?"

"Uhm, yeah... it's about Ohio."

"Ohio?" asked the Messiah, frowning suddenly. "Like, the place in the United States?"

---

Given the gravity of your claims, the Messiah (and his Classmates) have elected to aid you within their uttermost capabilities.

The Messiah is capable of contacting Archetype using some of the 'tokens' granted by him to people who'd already graduated, but the veil between worlds can only be crossed under certain auspicious circumstances, the soonest of which is still a near-full five months away - in late May. If you do this, you'd leave Archetype pretty much all of the upcoming summer to mount a response to whatever's happening in Ohio. He considers this a sufficient amount of time, although given the serious scale of destruction at stake, claims you should continue to look for a better method: either investment into other communication methods, or else the creation of an auspicious circumstance.

You've acquired ++Christopher as a result of your actions.

Your Exploration in January yielded a high success. Choose one of the following:
[ ] Extra XP - Gain 500 XP, with 50% odds of gaining 500 more.
[ ] Relevant Artifact - An artifact from the Wizard's Tower Armory that effectively decreases the Will cost of Create Auspicious Circumstance to -50.
[ ] Write-in - Any other boon within reason, if less powerful than either of the above.

Will: 200
Credit: 7.1
XP: 1,120


As usual, one (1) Action is committed to the Club, leaving you with two (2) to choose from the following:

[ ] 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.

[ ] Improve Curriculum [-210 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.

[ ] Derive Formula of Salvation [-100 Will] - Make an in-depth study of Abraham's metaphysiology, in an attempt to derive the magics of his spirit. Can eventually aid in the mitigation of his Life of Battle, if you feel like being helpful. Once you're done, you can initiate yourself into Soteriomancy. A complex action; it'll most likely take more than one month to finish your experiments at your current Arcanum, requiring you to accrue a sufficient 'quantity of success' that'll be rolled for.

[ ] Bonding [-5 Will]
-[ ] Ask the Messiah for help with Salvation
- It seems his Enrollment may have some unique interactions with Soteriomancy?
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Interaction [-10 Will]
-[ ] 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.
-[ ] Leave the Club - Leaving, at the moment, costs [80 Will]. As an essential asset, they'll do what they can to bribe you to stay.

[ ] Create Auspicious Circumstance [-100 Will] - Allows the Messiah to communicate directly with an Enrolled agent of Archetype for 4-8 hours, allowing to pool ideas and strategies, as well as theorize mutually for that duration. On the following day, can repeat the feat for 2-4 hours. On the day after that, 1-2 hours.

[ ] Craft Communication Artifact [-10 Will] - Make an exact copy of the artifact you made for Penelope; only allows you to send an extremely brief, imprecise warning. Given you're not as well-established as the Messiah, your warning might not be taken as seriously.

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

[ ] Write-in
 
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Salvator Mundi
Salvator Mundi

"I see," answered Chris, voice low and murmuring, a hand now resting thoughtfully on his chin, eyes heavy with rumination. He raised his voice an octave, bowing a head in gratitude. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. However, I don't believe we'll easily convince the Quixotists to aid us - at least, not in their current form."

"No? Why?" asked Penelope.

Apostle Matthew stepped forth, answering smartly, "They are a fractious bunch, spoiling for potential advancement and altercations. Not much else to report on that. Towards the end of their First Year, the Big Bad Wolf took over the leadership after deposing - and, we believe, killing, or at least imprisoning at an unknown location - the Fearless Child. Ever since then, the nature of their Theme started to shift, showing a tendency for darker interpretations. That's where the 'Engine incident' came from."

Across the room, Judas scowled. For a second and no more, his eyes seemed to hold a purified disdain at the mention of the Engine's name, a feeling that abated and faded under the Messiah's sympathetic gaze, like a caress that healed all earthly and spiritual wounds; the scar on Judas' face seemed to diminish ever more slightly.

Solomon filed that information away for later.

"We've attempted to deal with the situation diplomatically, to regrettably little success," Chris explained with a patient smile, crossing legs as he lounged on the wooden throne, one hand resting against his cheek. "Intent on dealing with it more forcefully, if the unfortunate trend didn't reverse by our graduation. It's always better to redeem than send away. And in this case, we've learned that Archetype has a special interest in some of the Quixotists, at least the ones that aren't entirely lost in the Wolf's maw. If you'd help us - with the backing of two Classes - we could most likely force the Wolf to submit, although it'd still be a difficult war."

Chris sniffed, thoughtfully, "Still, it might be worth it. A full unification of our Classes is an impressive achievement. Aside from ensuring peace and serenity, at least for the remnant of this year, and securing you a Second Year without much conflict, it'd mean we have more hands on deck for dealing with the issue of Ohio's impending doom."

"You're a Year ahead of them," pointed out Solomon. "How come you can't fight them on your own? Just make a speech and convince them to put down weapons?"

"You'd be surprised. Some of your seniors are rather strong, and many of our members aren't useful in combat," Chris answered. "Although it certainly doesn't shy away from destruction and wrath, our chosen interpretation of the Bible doesn't overflow with odes to conquest. For better or worse, we've chosen the peaceful path. The Wolf's aura is inimical to that. He's a wild and unrestrained thing, and spreads that awful mentality with his presence, like a cancer, if a cancer were insanity and loss of humanity. Even if I were to no longer suppress my inner radiance and make a heartfelt appeal, I predict it'd fall on deaf ears. Then, I would most likely be torn apart."

Strangely cool of him to admit that, said Solomon's symbiote - a statement so sudden and unexpected it broke him out of contemplative reverie.

You speak?

Silence.

Come on, talk again. Please?

Meh
, said the symbiote, and returned to inactivity, much to Solomon's frustration.

Meanwhile, the conversation had gone on without Solomon.

"-something we can deal with later," concluded Penelope, "All that being said, you'll help with the Ohio issue?"

"Yes, of course," answered Chris with an eager nod - eyebrows raised an inch, as if mildly surprised that was even in question. "Although I must ask, do you have any resources that could aid in the acceleration of our timetable? If not, our only recourse is waiting until the end of May."

"I do," stepped forth Solomon, and produced a fine bowl of thin porcelain, a small and modest artifact on the verge of cracking. "If filled with blood, this should allow you to broaden your connection with any workings you've made beforehand. If used on an endeavor such as this, I predict most of its stored power shall be expended, although I can always restore it later without much issue. This should allow you to contact an agent of Archetype's to warn them."

"Could I be the one to speak?" asked Penelope, as eyebrows turned towards her. "I know the Olympian."

"He's your dad," said Chris, indulgingly - as if amused she'd pull that card out. "I've heard. You're not exactly an unknown quantity in the Enrolled world. But I'm afraid that's not how the tokens I distribute work."

She nodded in grim acceptance of the truth, and Chris stepped down to accept the porcelain implement from Solomon's outstretched hand, slashing a wrist on a thorn, and filling it with a steady trickle of blood. Then, kneeling before the bowl, Chris spoke a short prayer in Hebrew, following which the blood acquired a numinous opalescence, its surface fizzling. He smiled up at Solomon and said, "A little personal touch of mine. It'll prolong the effect and boost our signal."

He nodded back, unimpressed - a feat only to be expected of a Third-Year Enrolled, especially one as prolific as the Messiah.

"His blood's drinkable, you know," muttered a man with a walking stick, one that Solomon suspected was John the Apostle - and who'd come to stand next, and slightly behind him, as if whispering in his ear, "It tastes better when fizzed."

"Can we not endorse cannibalism, please?" asked Matthew.

"It's not cannibalism," argued John, "It's a sacrament."

"Alright, let me correct that. Let's not endorse cannibalistic sacraments in front of our guests."

"Enough," cut in Chris, as he swirled the contents of the small bowl with one hand.

"Everyone listen up. We'll do our best to provide Archetype with a working model of the threat. Come back here in eight hours, with any further relevant dossiers and information you can acquire. Theologians, help them out as much as you're able to. Now go," Chris instructed.

Penelope and Solomon nodded and set off, as did several of the Theologians, like a swarm mobilized to activity by their leader's words.

After some conversation to divide the labor among themselves, Solomon stepped down the halls of the Academy and from there, went to Fortuna, down a lane he'd set down beforehand - teleporting straight into the main hall of the Tower - from where he enhanced the pace of his search for the keys, accompanied by Penelope. Even with teams of water spirits to scour each level of the Tower, and exhaustive divinations performed for hours on end, they found almost nothing concrete: minor trinkets, an artifact that peeled carrots, a box slightly bigger on the inside than outside, but nothing instrumental to aiding Sandra - Death - in finding out the origin of the oncoming doom.

All other measures having failed, and utterly exhausted with the endless casting of magic, Solomon sat down crosslegged on a small rug. Drawing in a deep, chest-filling breath, he closed his eyes and started to meditate on the structure of the world - on the world beyond the world, the Architecture that acted as the skein of everything.

The Doom of Columbus - it defied him, an antimeme of unprecedented strength, a black hole gravid with absence, like an abyss within the Architecture. It defied prophecy and questing, rebuffed seeking tendrils of prediction and acquiring information. However, the Educator's syllabus was flawless and filled every gap, accounted for every error. If the equation was more complicated than addition and subtraction, defying a clean solution with sight alone, you merely needed to know its formula, and then calculate a solution out of the elements you could see. That, too, was Architecture: his uncanny sense was merely a crutch, one that hobbled him now.

He abandoned it, relying on the shining nucleus of theory alone; on swimming through the uncertain waters like a shipwrecked sailor in a storm, and attempting not merely to drift on a piece of floating wood, but to mount it as a knight did a horse, to crash down on a monstrous leviathan alongside the unruly waves.

All correspondences start with mere words.

Ohio, Columbus.

Ohio meant large or great river, and Columbus meant dove; the dove of the large river faced doom.

Solomon's eyes tightened, even closed.

Derive further: doves represented purity and cleanliness, and were one of the sacred animals of Christianity. An interesting correspondence in their request of aid from the Messiah, a signal of correctness, indicating such an undertaking was correct. Who else to prevent a dove's doom, than the Messiah, who bore the holy spirit?

The Terrorist was attacking schools: a clear relation to Enrollment. He attacked tennis courts and cemeteries as well, robbed people of phones, and burned down libraries. Where did all of these connect? Architecturally, there was little to pin any of this down into a collective image. This seemed more like a mundane investigation, involving none of the elements the Educator had painstakingly inculcated into him over many months of remedial lessons. Frustrated, Solomon abandoned that thread of thought and focused once again on matters prior: rivers and doves. A river was a flow of energy, a divine channel that stretched between vessels.

...the purity of the river was at stake, a delayed blow to God's own supply line.

Was the Educator himself in danger? No. If something of that nature were the case, surely the Educator would be able to see it?

Unless he's reliant on natural talent, much as you.

Suddenly, as if a new and noticeable presence entered a crowded room, Solomon felt a sense of pure, edifying order. There was something more there, a roiling mass of attention beneath the surface of his inquiries - eyes like diamonds, a confident and yet sympathetic expression conveying self-assured superiority without malice. The eyes, making a sound like crunching glass underfoot, moved to direct him over to a contrasting section of the world's manuscript; apocalypse was a certainty, writ into the future.

It followed, as a result - and he came upon these clarifications at more or less the same time as the eyes directed him to them - that this was one of the end of the world's potential manifestations, or at least the incipience of such. And, worryingly, it approached them with hurried swiftness, a thunderbolt tearing through the depth of the waters: a torpedo already halfway to its target, such that bracing for impact and minimizing the damage was now wiser than attempting to avoid it altogether.

The eyes smiled, as if in pride at his solution. And then pushed forward a problem to solve on his own:

How does Armageddon begin?

Dove. River. Armageddon. Messiah.

"A second coming," he whispered, without realizing it, a phrase that seemed at odds with the Architecture of the world. "...but of who? The Educator said that a Christ never existed in our reality, at least not as most would expect."

Think.

Not as most would expect, meaning one did exist? It felt almost as if Solomon was taking a step in the wrong direction, extracting the wrong realizations from the right information. The eyes watching him seemed faintly amused, if a little frustrated. Their connection was severed after a moment, and they didn't return.

He wondered if that being was the Metaphysicist, or something else entirely.

"Got anything?" asked Penelope, breaking Solomon out of the meditational reverie.

"No," he said, with a deep sight. Standing up, he brushed off the dust from his knees and looked at her. "You?"

"Nope," she said. "Although you might have some luck with the Tenth Floor. I don't know."

"Already tried," he commiserated. "Not much left to do, I suppose, except await for the connection."
"And deal with the Quixotists, maybe."

He raised an eyebrow. "We're doing that?"

She shrugged. "If what Chris said is anything close to true, then they're a serious problem," she answered. "Murder isn't something we should overlook, even if it doesn't affect us directly. Even pragmatically, if these people graduate, they'll become a problem for future us."

"True enough," he said. "I'll think about if I wanna commit to it."

"You should," she said, approaching Solomon with a soft smile and laying a hand on his shoulder. "But you've already been doing plenty of work since Christmas, so you don't have to push yourself, seriously. Actually, how about we get some rest. It's still over six hours before Chris is gonna be done. Do you have a room here I can sleep in?"

"Not gonna sleep at the Academy?"

"No need, if you have a space available," she said and sniffed a little. "Besides, I want to keep you company. Aside from the Surveyors occasionally coming to bang drums together and stick their noses into every crevice of this place, I imagine living on your own gets lonely."

He realized the strangely-worded offer's hidden depth at that moment: she was not merely asking to spend a single night at his Tower, but subtly implying she'd like to stay here in a more permanent fashion, as a roommate. He pondered on the nature of that, effectively changing out Harrison for Penelope.

Eventually, Solomon smiled.

"Sure," he agreed. "There's plenty of rooms."

---

Will: 145
Credit: 7.3
XP: 1,120


Note: as we haven't started the next turn yet, your Will and XP haven't advanced yet as a result of monthly income / your actions.

Sadly, your search for information came up short.

However, if you wish, you do have an opportunity to accompany the Theologians into battle against the Quixotists. Your seniors are already prepared, and ready to make battle at any moment, but Chris is totally chill with it if you need a month or something to get your affairs in order.

[ ] Aid Theologians [-100 Will]
- Commit to an attack, intent on capturing the Wolf and his closest lieutenants alive, if possible; dealing with them permanently if not.
[ ] Ask For Time - Ask for a month or two to prepare yourself mentally; commits you to the action, dropping out won't be an option.
[ ] Stay Out of This [-150 Will] - As Penelope said, you have no obligation to help. However, you can't forget what happened last time you stayed out of a conflict...

Furthermore, you can't shake the feeling that if you tried, you could contact the being that looked at you with those strange eyes.

[ ] Contact the Diamond-Eyed Entity Again [-25 Will] - Attempt to learn its identity, or at least beseech it for wisdom. May be more difficult to re-attempt in the future.
[ ] Don't Contact The Entity
 
The Wolf's Last Howl
The Wolf's Last Howl

A war started developing, as stark lines were drawn in the sand. Across the Academy, the Theologians enacted a series of coordinated attacks on the Wolf's followers in shared spaces. Solomon, on support and battlefield control duty, oversaw the procession of events from a scrying basin full of Messianic blood - a dozen apertures like a security guard's television screens revealing scenes of abrupt, curt violence; each instance cut short within moments as the Quixotists fell; not dead, only subdued or unconscious.

Accessing other Levels of the Academy - those that didn't belong to your Theme - was difficult, as the doors wouldn't admit those of the wrong Class, and as a result, it often required the Educator's permission. However, there were loopholes and exceptions. Even if coerced, a group may be allowed in by someone of the correct Class, and some rare and unusual abilities allowed partial ingress. Solomon's control over Connections was among them.

A solid fraction of the Children's Fiction Class was soon carted in to Solomon's Tower, and over a sprawl of sigils glowing as blue as sapphires refracting light, he ritualistically manipulated the Thematic relations, conferring a connection to the Messiah, Justice, three of the Apostles, the Chariot, and the Emperor.

"It'll only last an hour," he explained once the rites were complete, and the light had died down. His Marids offered each of the team's members a bandoleer of marked potions: rapid healing, stamina recovery, a flashbang analogue, and minor stimulants.

"Let's make the most of it, then, and hunt down an evil beast," Chris concluded, and then swept everyone alongside Penelope in a flash of celestial thunder, flowing up through the ceiling and in the Academy's direction. Solomon returned to oversight duty, once more staring into his basin.

He observed through the ceilings, a faceless eye gazing from above, and saw as the strike team manifested on the Second Level, delivered there by lightning.

In moments, the doors opened. The Wolf, it seemed, wasn't content to await them.

He strode out of the doors with arms wide in greeting - an older man, about twenty-two or twenty-three, with a wild mop of unnaturally dark-gray hair - and grinned at them toothsomely, revealing a mouth full of fangs. Behind him stood the Engine, in a modified and more refined version of her suit from half a year ago, and one other: a half-rabbit half-man in a blue jacket with brass buttons with huge ears and a giant carrot that he slung over one shoulder, clearly intent on utilizing it as a bludgeoning weapon.

"Well, well, well!" the Wolf started jauntily. "A Christmas miracle came this year after all, if only a little late! Now, I am most humbled and happy to see the Messiah himself at our doorstep - but I've received a most troubling report that many of my friends were attacked... A misunderstanding must've led you to strike out against us, surely."

"Your reign of terror ends here," the Messiah simply said. "Release the Fearless Child, and we can end this diplomatically."

"Or, it could've been madness!" The Wolf started to laugh, a crescendo of amused sounds and chortles that soon made him unable to breathe. He inhaled, and exhaled, a plume of distorted wind coming out, and Solomon's eyes widened as he realized - at the same time as everyone else - what was about to happen. Before anyone could so much as dodge, the Wolf inhaled once more: an even deeper, lung-filling intake, as if gluttonous for oxygen, and then released it as a storming whirlwind of air.

At once, the battle started - Harrison translocating, avoiding the whirlwind, and emerging next to the Wolf, whose eyes widened in surprise. He launched a blow aimed at his throat. This was intercepted by the Engine, who smashed into him cruelly with her entire bulk, jets of steam coming out of her shoulders.

From there, the combat went down mostly in the strike team's favor - the Rabbit, although more agile and skilled with his giant carrot than looks suggested, and capable of healing by taking bites out of it, was no match for Penelope, who cut the carrot in half, concluding a brief engagement with the Apostles.

The Messiah and the Emperor, in the meantime, took on the Wolf and Engine in concert, with occasional interference from the Chariot, who tossed in elemental spells and the occasional hit-and-run shoulder charge on the Wolf, slowly pushing them back.

As the Messiah's stamina waned and flagged, he disengaged to consume one of Solomon's potions, granting the Wolf a fleeting moment of undisturbed focus.

In an instant, the Big Bad Wolf transformed, taking on a mien more lupine than human, a brutal war-form thrice as large with a hide covered in stringy hair and massive talons, launching into a frenzy of clawed slashes aimed at Noah and Harrison. With a knowing smile, Harrison swiftly touched Noah's shoulder, transporting them both out of harm's way, leaving empty space behind, and throwing the Wolf's equilibrium into turmoil. Racing, the Messiah dashed through right on the emptied space, fist already wound back.

He seized the advantage of their trajectory and sprang upward, delivering a divine uppercut. The Wolf's eyes widened in agony and disbelief as the strike connected with the base of its snout, near the throat. It was a sacred warrior's blow, a strike infused with holy might, a testament to unwavering courage that wished to undo all evil; an incandescently meaningful Biblical miracle in strike-form; snapping jaw bones and briefly illuminating the entire hall with a radiant beam of sacred light that revealed martial truths. Amidst an ethereal chorus of angelic 'hallelujahs,' the Wolf crumpled like a collapsible chair, its stomach bulging as a second devastating punch connected.

Its stomach now caved in, the Wolf's maw widened unnaturally to disgorge an unconscious young man, clothes frayed and covered in spittle, guts, and other excreta.

The Messiah caught the Fearless Child in his arms, and delivered a final roundhouse kick that sent the Wolf tumbling away. The Messiah summoned a restorative miracle, the Child's eyes opening once more, roused back to the waking land.

"I didn't know Jesus practiced martial arts," the Fearless Child said, once his spluttering was done.

"Once, in a cave, I defeated three dragons," Chris recounted, almost absentmindedly.

"How am I... alive?"

"A miracle. You are blessed to walk among us again. Have faith and rejoice, young one. The battle is not done." After pinning the Wolf down with a look and ensuring it wouldn't stand up once more, he looked across the room and smiled.

Justice stood and faced the Engine, now the only remaining member of the Wolf's retinue still standing.

"You're done for," said Penelope. "This little empire of self-indulgence you've built up? It's about to end."

"Heh, you think so?" answered the Engine, cocksure and likely smiling underneath the visor.

"Yeah-"

All of Penelope's wings unfolded and batted once so fast that Solomon almost missed it, a compression of force delivering her forward like a spear. Her fist struck the Engine's center of mass and sundered the entire cuirass, steel crumpled around hardened, blessed flesh like a watermelon's rind against a hydraulic press. A flat wing slashed out with feathers like a set of blades, severing a pauldron from the rerebrace, and then did the same for the other pauldron, disconnecting the steam vents the Engine used for offense. A final, second punch to the helmet sent her flying back several feet, utterly disarmed and disabled.

She stared at Penelope from the floor, eyes wide beneath that helmet, now visible underneath the ruined visor.

"-pretty much." Penelope stared down at her with mild disdain, then turned to nod to Chris. "I assume the other Quixotists won't be even half as problematic?"

"No, they won't," he affirmed. "We're rather done here, I think. The Apostles and I can handle the rest of the clean-up, unless you want to stick around?"

"Eh, always safer that way," she said. "Do you have cells for them?"

"Yes, in our homeroom," said Matthew, accepting the Child from the Messiah's arms. "You teleport, I'll show you?"

"Sure."

They picked up the Engine's battered form, the unconscious Wolf and Rabbit, and then disappeared in a thunderous flash. The Messiah and the others, in the meantime, advanced indoors to start addressing the rest of the Wolf's followers.

---

All's well that ends well. A clean operation, everything proceeded exactly as you had foreseen.

Now, choose your actions for March, April, and May - a whole seasonal segment. For each month, you have two (2) actions, and one (1) action devoted automatically to Exploration, unless you choose to pull out of the Surveyor's Club at some point.

Will: 125 / 205 / 285
Credit: 7.5
XP: 1,240

[ ] 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.

[ ] Improve Curriculum [-150 / 120 / 90 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.

[ ] Derive Formula of Salvation [-80 Will] - Make an in-depth study of Abraham's metaphysiology, in an attempt to derive the magics of his spirit. Can eventually aid in the mitigation of his Life of Battle, if you feel like being helpful. Once you're done, you can initiate yourself into Soteriomancy. A complex action; it'll most likely take more than one month to finish your experiments at your current Arcanum, requiring you to accrue a sufficient 'quantity of success' that'll be rolled for. The Messiah's study lowered the DC and the Will cost.

[ ] Bonding [-5 Will]
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Interaction [-10 Will]
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Exploration [-20 Will]
- An exciting opportunity, as Fortuna 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.
-[ ] Leave the Club - Leaving, at the moment, costs [80 Will]. As an essential asset, they'll do what they can to bribe you to stay.

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

[ ] Write-in
 
The Crown Jewel
The Crown Jewel

In early March, as the Academy's Enrolled went through an upheaval and a series of conferences on matters of diplomacy and stability, Solomon decided to distract himself from the constant power struggles by inviting an equally sullen Damien out to tour the Tower.

Together, they walked its corridors and explored a section of new rooms unlocked a week prior, and spoke of recent events; slowly, Solomon instilled a basic, dawning comprehension of the Architecture within Damien, and convinced him of his soothsaying capabilities. As yet another convinced of it, Damien could become a valuable ally.

Once reassured of the other man's stability, Solomon invited Damien to experiment with taking on some of Abraham's saving grace.

His containment chamber was refurbished - resembling a hospital room, with comfortable bedding and soft light, and staffed by summoned spirits who took on the forms of faceless, white-robed specters, each one bearing the red mark of a medical cross on their foreheads and chest.

A gallow-rope made of purple velvet tied itself around Abraham's wrist under Damien's conscious direction, and through it, Solomon could feel as Damien drained motes of Life out of Abraham, a process like stealing breath; strangulation capable of theft, usurping a fraction of the mantle. The energy was formless and imperceptible to the naked eye, but a bloody crimson and as sharp as a river of blades to Solomon's supernatural senses, almost hurting to stare at. It proliferated across Damien's body with unnatural rapacity, like a landowner reseizing property, and Solomon felt as new capacity for battle thrummed within Damien; like an attuned instrument, he positively vibrated with it.

"Huh, I feel... ready to fight, basically," Damien said and looked over at Solomon, irises now stained with subtle injections of crimson like a blot of red ink spread out into a clear glass of water. "It's like I've got the skills of a soldier. I can think of all the ways to attack you instantly and measure their effectiveness based on how I anticipate you'd react. It comes as naturally as thinking. I think I could do more if I directed this. It feels broad like I could apply it to anything related to combat or battle."

"You should practice with it," Solomon said. "Whenever you start running dry, you've got my permission to come in here and take more."

"This man..." Damien muttered, looking at Abraham's stubbly face. "He's dangerous if released, but not evil in of himself. When I focus, I can see some of his memories, and I can sense an imprint of his emotions. He's sacrificed a lot."

Solomon was silent.

"Do you intend to figure out a way to help him?"

"Once I'm out of the Academy, maybe," answered Solomon, staring down at the man as well. "I'd like not to have to spend forever on it, and I'd also like not to die if he chooses to assume I'm an enemy. His magic makes him instinctively violent."

Damien nodded. "I'll help if you need, so give me a call. Friendship's a two-way street."

"We're friends now?" smiled Solomon.

"I guess," said Damien, with much less conviction, as if the word 'friend' tasted wrong to his mind. He sighed. "You've been helping me out pretty scrupulously. I'd feel like a dickhead if I ignored that."

"Huge win for everyone involved," said Solomon. "Life's easier with friends."

Damien didn't answer, only letting out a sound that was halfway between a hum and a grunt.

The remnant of the year was a sedate, tempered affair; consolidating and solidifying the power gained through the unification of all three years, and watching from the shadows as the Children's Fiction Class reasserted its positivity, a Theme once more ebullient with simple wonder, darkness banished. Close to the end, Solomon observed as the Bible Class finished off its tasks on their world, and passed the final examination, with the worthiest of the Educator's students attaining insane heights of ability.

In April, a more motivated Solomon moved onto the second-year curriculum ahead of the rest of his Class - most of them still chasing after his and Penelope's own peak - and started to attend remedial classes as well, with the Educator commenting that Solomon was at a beyond-intermediate level now, somewhere halfway into the course, although naturally proper study of the Architecture was a lifetime endeavor. He broached some of the bizzare topics he'd noted, such as the Messiah, the events in Columbus, and the Diamond-Eyed entity, but the Educator was uncharacteristically tight-lipped, replying that he ought to focus more on studying than concerning himself with such matters.

And so came summer.

---

Will: 65
Credit: 7.7
XP: 3,840


The Educator didn't approve of your request to visit the Bible Theme's world. Instead, choose a land / location on Fortuna to explore:

[ ] The Bridge At World's End - A mysterious bridge of rounded stone on the land's easternmost cliffsides, its causeway as wide as five highways side-by-side, and arrayed with strange sculptures and ticking clockwork marvels. Stories say the further you venture, the stranger the wonders at its side. The further you venture as well, the thicker becomes the mist that shrouds the bridge's foundation, until the waters cannot be perceived. No traveler is yet to return from beyond a certain demarcated distance, at the point of sixteen kilometers, where Fortuna's maps end, and where the world's border is said to lie.

[ ] The Witch's Land - The geography of Fortuna mirrors that of Europe and northern Africa in a hazy fashion: certainly, if one were to squint, the maps seem to blur into each other. The Witch's Land is a county-sized domain, lying a spitting distance west of the approximate location of Istanbul - or Constantinople - on Earth, with no equivalent city here on Fortuna. It's a land spoken of in nearly all cultural legends of the local people; a valley wreathed in supernatural darkness, allegedly inhabited by evil witches who practice the Magician's craft and seek ever-higher attainment through ritual sacrifice. Go and introduce yourself, maybe they're friendly!

[ ] Londinium - Even having avoided an introduction at court save a couple of brief appearances over the last couple of months, you can still explore the city over the river - a shining metropolis, not unlike its Earth correspondent, although absent the hand of the Once and Future King. Of Fortuna's cities, it's easily the most well-developed and modern, entering the early age of industrialization and application of the steam engine in daily endeavors. A serial killer strides on its streets, as well: some yet-nameless reflection of what you suspect is Jack the Ripper, likely channeling a fateful archetype. Whether to stop him or shop at the markets, Londinium is a great spot.

[ ] The Court of Miracles - Or what you'd call, 'Paris, France,' from Earth, if we're being pedantic. The City of Lights virtually worships the Tarot, especially those of its elements that are associated with positive connection: The Lovers, The High Priestess, and the Emperor are held in high regard here, both as those who channel them, and the Enrolled who bear these names. Although not your cup of tea, some of the Court's miracles are transmissible, and you may study them to improve your Arcanum Aspect!

Choose an additional three (3) benefits from Exploration:

[ ] Towering Efforts - Increase efforts on clearing out the Tower, making more of its chambers and functions available to you. Frees 5-7% more of its space. Can be selected multiple times. (Current estimate: 20-25% cleared.)

[ ] Might Alone - Earn an extra 2,500 XP; can be selected multiple times, yielding 1,750 XP the second time, and 1,000 XP the third time.

[ ] Facilitator of Magic [+15 Will] - Instead, aid the Surveyors in their personal explorations, saying, "it's dangerous to go alone, take this." Improves your relationship with your clubmates, including Penelope and Harrison. Can be selected multiple times. Each selection strengthens your clubmates moderately.

[ ] Write-in - A boon no greater than any of the above, subject to QM veto.

Furthermore, you've successfully managed to contact the Diamond-Eyed Entity; a scenario that'll be resolved following your adventure on Fortuna.

Before you venture out, do you want to Spend XP?
[ ] Yes - Build vote time.
[ ] No - Not worth it yet.
 
Solomon (as of The Crown Jewel) + Build Vote
Here's a summary of your character's overall capabilities:

Generation of Will - +80/turn
+30 passive Will per turn, +25 from Comfort's Embrace, +25 from Cup

Other:
*Attention of the Lamb: 1.2% and maintaining [?]
*Educator Favor: moderately high
*Arcane Induction and Connections have 75% Discount [6 turns remaining]
[and at least seven (7) other factors concealed from your eyes]

Attributes
Physical: 16x peak human
Mental: Half-motivated genius
Social: Talented
Spiritual: Near-archmagus

Aspect Ranking

Aspect: Sanctum
: 3 - A house-sized Sanctum, doubles effects of spells, near-halves costs.

Aspect: Arcanum: 7 (+ 1032 XP or an effective Arcanum of 7.03) - A non-Enrolled archwizard's capabilities; destructive power of an army regiment, good versatility.
  • Arcanum Technique: Arcane Focus (Cup - Devoted) 4 - Further enhancement of transmutative, alchemical and hydromantic effects.
  • Arcanum Technique: Idle Study 2 - Small amount of free XP each turn, raised if Decompression is taken.
  • Arcanum Technique: Arcane Induction 2 - Can take on three apprentices, train them to half your overall proficiency as if Enrolled. Incompatible with Enrollment.
Aspect: Hermes the Destroyer: 3 - Destructive capabilities of a well-equipped military team; requires and expends no energy, unlike Arcanum. Only destructive effects.
Aspect: Eldritch: 7 - Superhuman attributes from symbiote inside body.
  • Eldritch Technique: Basin 3 - Access to symbiotic mana, difficult to dispe, acting as precious secondary energy source.
  • Eldritch Technique: Assessor 3 - Danger sense, spellcasting 'HUD.'
  • Eldritch Technique: Enhancer 3 - Improve efforts at spellcasting in a plethora of minor ways.
  • Eldritch Technique: Fluxator 3 - Can manufacture all sorts of fluid matter.
  • Eldritch Technique: Lethal Protector 2 - Externalization of symbiote for creation of armor or physical armament.
Combination (Aspectless/Arcanum) Technique: Connections 9 - Manipulating and seeing connections, especially the abstract, but also physical.
Combination (Arcanum/Sanctum) Technique: Comfort's Embrace 10 - Massive income of Will each turn.

Relationships

Penelope: +++++ ++
Educator: +++++
?????: +++++
Harrison: +++++
Damien: +++
Chris: +++
Josh: +
Francis: +

---

Will: 95
Credit: 7.8
XP: 6,340


Make a coherent spending plan with your available XP; samples of what's achievable below.

[ ] Destroyer 4 - A single energy blast can destroy a car; spammable, tireless. One concentrated beam can work its way through a house within moments. (2,000 XP)
-[ ] Destroyer 5 - A single energy blast can destroy half a house or heavily damage a house; semi-spammable, near-tireless. (4,000 XP)

[ ] Sanctum 4 - Expand size of Sanctum to a large family home, improve resistance against fate-based effects inside. Further improve efficiency of magic cast inside. (2,000 XP)
-[ ] Sanctum 5 - Expand size of Sanctum to a four-story building; improve physique / health within; further improve efficiency of magic cast inside. (4,000 XP)

[ ] Arcanum
-[ ] Fractional Aspect
- Invest some amount of XP into raising your Arcanum, thereby improving your casting capacity and power.
-[ ] Arcane Focus - Invest in raising your attunement to the Cup, elevating the effectiveness of transmutative and alchemical arts. (Level 5 costs 1,500 XP, Level 6 costs 1,800; Level 7 costs 2,100 XP; highly cost-efficient)

[ ] Eldritch
-[ ] Fractional Aspect
- Invest some amount of XP into raising your Eldritch, thereby improving your attributes and defenses.
-[ ] Lethal Protector - Improve your symbiote's extrusions and shapeshifting, raising combat versatility. (Level 3 costs 1,000 XP, each Level is double the previous.)
-[ ] Other Eldritch Techniques (write-in)

[ ] Write-in
 
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The Road of Secrets
The Road of Secrets

It was an afternoon's work to deliver the Solomon, Harrison, and Penelope over half a continent. Once the ritual of crimson-silver sigils splayed over the floor triggered with the final word of incantation, they went skipping across eddies of curved spatial resonance, a sensation not unlike a hook penetrating one's stomach, with a cord attached to a a rocket that carried you on to unseen horizons at blurring, furious speeds. They emerged upon a rocky, barren hill standing over vast dales and gorges full of umbra, a tide of darkness spilling forth like muddy rivers that sought to swallow the earth beneath. The sun over here was dimmer, as if the sky were covered by layers of clouds.

"Well, damn," said Harrison, breaths misting immediately with ambient cold. He focused momentarily and created a mote of heat, a small perilous flame hovering over an open palm, like a lone lantern in the dark. Its fire was on the precipice of guttering out, maintained only by his will. "It's so cold even my shadow is shivering."

Dramatically, Penelope stepped forward and spread out a radiant corona of seraphic wings, declaring, "Fiat lux."

She emanated a pure tone of radiance, a light as white as the heart of a star. Like a gas cloud driven back with a fiercely overclocked industrial fan, the darkness immediately around them dispelled: rays of wan sunshine punctured through the clouds, still a shade paler than sunlight should've been, like spears of cold, autumnal amber. It was cold and dark still, yet a beachhead for enterprise was established. Solomon absently started to cast identification spells, muttering away with incantations of learning.

He found that, aside from the supernatural murk, the valley had a certain weight of events impressed upon it; a shadow on the world cast as if a moonlight tower had encountered a wavering drape. Even the stones seemed weary with meaning, heavier as if carrying some gravid history with the sorrow of martyrs.

The darkness was even inside the matter, obscuring the chronicles with its own sort of determination to conceal the past. Solomon, not intent on simply letting it win, studied those ancestral indentations, each inkling of data pursued with tenacity, threads unraveled and networks snapped; deriving fragments of memories. Glorious sunlit castles with marmoreal walls, each one a bastion protecting its own peoples. A young smiling man, beard brown like a bear's fur, a crown of orichalcum adorning his head. A woman standing behind him, draped in a black mournful veil, smiling with violet lips. That same man, dead on his throne, with ten swords piercing through his heart.

Then darkness.

As Solomon came out of the visions, his senses flared with a danger fuzz, surrounding the edges of his consciousness. He sent out a mental ping of alert, snapping Penelope and Harrison to sudden, rapt attention.

It was still a heartbeat late, as the shadow woman came out of practically nowhere - feminine only in silhouette, and otherwise cloaked with a thick, cloying umbra that wafted off her in nightly streams - swifter than any shadow had a right to be; as fast as thought, barely granting a right to react. Even as magicka flowed to Solomon's brain, its presence transmuting base matter into an engine of higher cogitation, she moved like an inescapable maverick. From the depths of shadow, she was followed by dragging chains; she drifted around Penelope, metallic shackles as black as ink binding taut angelic wings, suppressing the inner light and rendering her uttermost efforts to break out into nothing. Before Solomon could so much as complete a single word of incantation, she'd finished almost three loops, Penelope now bound utterly in a cocoon of chains.

Angered, Harrison dashed and leaped, legs raised to deliver a kick - a vain effort, as with the woman's reflexes, she would've been able to avoid - only to encounter an obstruction as a transient pane of tenebrous force manifested, stopping him and cracking lightly at the impact of his foot.

A second woman made of shadow - a witch, Solomon amended mentally - stepped out, bearing a scepter with a core of faintly whirring violet clouds, producing the pane. Focusing, Solomon fired a salvo of magical darts, each one equivalent in power to fifteen gunshots, to distract her at the same time as the chain-wielder attacked. His symbiote manifested a leathery wing and interposed it against a burst of the shadowy chains, batting them away and dispelling them into a morass of shadows. As Solomon's passive senses attempted to penetrate the murk, he found two more hostiles fast approaching. If all parameters were identical, they'd swiftly be overwhelmed.

Think outside the box, then.

Instead of ineffectually repelling and scattering the native shadows of the valley, Solomon raised a white-gloved hand and called upon them, as a master called a servant, as a king called a crown or scepter, as Thor called down thunder or Zeus the lightning bolt; as a god called down the truth of the world on nonbelievers. He made an offering of blood to slake the enchaining rite's thirst, cuts opening vertically along each wrist, streams of scarlet liquid immediately flowing out to stoke the darkness; alongside alien tissue.

His symbiote emerged from the cuts like a monstrosity from some outer realm, and its tendrils raised their heads in eager anticipation and confusion - then, at a mental order, snapped out with lightning speed and threaded with the darkness, his power over the strains of hidden connectivity abstracting the tips of each strand into darkness itself; making it a part of him, an extension as controllable as any limb linked to one's central nervous system. He couldn't extend the control over the entire valley, not without risking a grave loss of control with potentially deadly consequences, but merely seizing the local environment was simplicity itself.

He found the darkness abrasive and sickening, like a syrup made of glue; attempting to stick to him and make him forget and sacrifice humanity as well. Refusing, Solomon tugged on the leash as an owner did with a hound, reminding it of its place. And like that, a metaphorical gun to its head, he stared down the four witches; now holding his own friends hostage, shackled and bound with chains. The other newly arrived witches seemed to wield a sword and a book as implements, respectively.

As a result, both sides stood at something of an uneasy impasse, staring each other down.

They could murder Harrison and Penelope, but it may provoke him to shatter the darkness and fundamentally impair their magic for a sufficient time to achieve retribution. However, if Solomon attempted to do that without reason, the chain wielder's lightning-fast speed might suffice nonetheless to execute Harrison or Penelope. Given the other three were much inferior, much slower than himself, the chain wielder was the one he needed to worry about. His eyes focused on her with calm attention.

He spoke, transmuting each word into a language they could understand, "Parley?

"Unchain the Abyss, interloper," ordered the chain witch, sneering. The absence of darkness revealed her true, natural features: a brunette about her mid-thirties, pretty although not to the disarmingly supernatural level he'd expected from the stories.

"If I choose to damage its fabric, something bad shall happen to you, I take it?" he asked, already supposing they reacted to Penelope's repulsion of the dark - as suggested by attacking and taking her down first, almost as if with priority. The witch's dark, vicious expression confirmed the suspicion. "Excellent. Let's discuss this."

"One more time, I'll tell you: release our Abyss."

"Release my friends," he countered, as calm as an ocean with a still surface, restful under a noonday sky.

"Elder sister, with your permission, perhaps I could negotiate on the conclave's behalf?" asked the scepter witch timidly, as she stepped forward, a girl not much older than Solomon, if at all.

"I don't think so," said the chain witch, eyes gleaming full of malice - answering both Solomon and her companion in one statement. "You dare intrude on our sacred grounds. You're reaping what you've sowed; submit yourselves to rightful authority and be judged."

"Whose authority, exactly, if I can ask? No one informed us we're entering sovereign territory. Furthermore, I sensed no warnings or signs this 'Abyss' of yours was sacred or important in any way," Solomon explicated.

"That you do not know the laws of the land does not mean you are free, or not subject, to them," answered the witch, malice now suppressed to a calm venom, almost as if parrying Solomon's equanimity with a mask of civil discourse. "Should've checked in, first. Now you'll be subject to the Eldest Sister's judgment, whether you like it or not."

"And what's the usual punishment for our crime, if I may ask?"

She allowed herself a cold titter. "I don't see why I should answer that, especially when asked by the likes of you."

"You're attempting to extract my cooperation," Solomon gently reminded. "Putting any of my potential worries or misgivings at ease can secure it much swifter than powerplays or posturing. That I am wary of recognizing your authority does not mean I must seek to escape judgement. Be warned that I can detect falsehood."

Her eyes narrowed and she contemplated the answer.

"The usual punishment for when an interloper such as you is disrespecting our Abyss is a life of imprisonment," she answered. "But given your ignorance and magical prowess, I suspect the Eldest may be convinced to leave you with a warning."

The words rang as technically true; something worrying, for there was no guarantee of spirit-deep sincerity.

Sighing, Solomon considered his answer.

---

Will: 65
Credit: 7.8
XP: 303

[ ] Road of Violence [-25 Will]
- Produce a distraction and focus on freeing Penelope, so you can engage in a sudden bout of violence, now that you're advantaged by seizing the Abyss. If Harrison is executed, Penelope should be able to resurrect him as virtually unharmed from even a grievous spiritual injury, if she does so fast enough.

Predicted effectiveness, now that you've seized the Abyss:
*70% odds of winning without complication.
*25% odds of winning with significant complication (Harrison dies and is resurrected, but an Aspect is damaged, etc.)
*5% odds of winning with extreme complication.

You certainly won't be coming along with them after the ominous visions you dug out of the local soil.

[ ] Continue Negotiations - Aim for a compromise; you'll apologize for messing with their sacred Abyss, swear a binding compact to immediately leave and never return, and ask for your friends to be released back to you in return.

*Unknown odds.

[ ] Submit [+15 Will] - Eh, a technical truth's good enough on a statement such as that. It seems like the scepter wielder isn't some axiomatically evil creature and tried to offer negotiations in good faith, at least, so it's likely these aren't inherently evil people; it's only Chainy that's nasty as fuck.

Just come along quietly and hope their authority's lenient. She's got a point: you're an intruder here. If you cooperate and make a good case, it's likely you can even benefit from this approach: your sense of the local Architecture tells you as such.

[ ] Write-in - Tactics for any of the plans can potentially improve your odds, or you can craft your own approach.
 
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