[X] Use Contamination on the disease
[X] Able Pawn - Linneas gains supernatural effectiveness when acting to assist, support or bolster his King's direct actions.
---
The Mindful Bane
Ahead of them was a world, a meter's worth of distance acting as a membrane, dividing the Street from an alien universe. There, the song availed Dorian with a brief look at the awaiting adventure. The outskirts of a settlement constructed in a clearing, surrounded on each side by a massive dark forest. He could see teeming masses of concerned villagers in sturdy clothing moving hurriedly about, ferrying supplies. There were men, patrolling in suits of strangely sleek white armor, wielding rifles as black as cast iron.
"Hold on," commanded Dorian, raising a hand. "I'll take another look at your disease. Linneas, hold Japhris steady."
"How are you making this approach?" asked Andrei with a concerned look, eyes staring out at the opalescent shimmer ahead of them, a bubble of the impending world.
"As Viscerality didn't work, we'll resort to distortion."
Andrei gave him an unsatisfied look. "Is there not a risk of its own in that? You know, comrade, that I am not one to shy away from extreme measures, and I trust your judgment and capabilities. But I feel compelled to remind you that we've agreed not to use distortion on living beings for a reason."
"I am aware, and appreciate that, doctor." Dorian nodded. "But if the disease kills everyone on the other side, ourselves potentially included, it may well be that no difference exists in practice. I'll work slow and stabilize anything strange."
"You could focus on its activation mechanism if you can perceive anything like that," said Andrei, staring at the woman's pale and marbled skin, eyes focused hawkishly in that recognizably Midnight manner. Dorian wondered if he could see down to a level of individual cells, perceiving the world of microorganisms as he sometimes did.
"I cannot, but I'll try."
"I support your feat with my heart, my liege," Linneas said, bowing his head. "Please, even though you cannot instill your Power into this poor girl, I beg you to see Japhris as a wayward subject as well. And I pray that you will have the strength to save her."
His new servant's words rang as meaningful and poignant, almost unusually so. Dorian steeled himself with that encouragement. His Streetwalker's mask was replaced with the Icarelian to boost the odds of the procedure's success as far as they could go.
The cauldron of distortion inside danced attentively, called to life with a thought, like a puppy wagging its tail. He wondered if the distortion was sapient, as it seemed to anticipate usage, even before he'd directed the fullness of his attention to exerting control. Its movements read to his mind as enthusiasm, a bright vibrant eagerness, like that of a new worker about to experience their first day on the job. It was almost disturbing, and Dorian wondered how this impression could be so strong when he was deprived of creative spirit. A shudder ran down his back as he plucked out a mote of warping, contorting light from within and commanded it to contaminate the disease.
For a moment, it was as if nothing happened.
Then every invading bacterium inside of Japhris exploded, cell walls detonating to spread cytoplasm. Then the organic matter suddenly clumped back together again and started to mutate, shaking and vibrating, as if cysts were growing on the cells. Like cancer to cancer. His Viscerality slowed down their progress, but Dorian's instinctive understanding of biologies informed him the detonation was a successful reaction: the destruction of the disease. This recollection was its own supernatural nature, refusing to die out before the hour of its appointed mission. He repeated the bombardment once, then twice, and saw as the infection collapsed once more into warm gluey mass.
Its strands flittered around in search of each other. Organic tendrils sought other tendrils with dogged desperation, and held onto each other weakly, pulling and heaving closer, in hopes of becoming one deathly force once again. Dorian shelled them with even more distortion. He was astonished at his own success.
The elation was disrupted when the corpse of the disease, its translucent bodies now darkened, started to eat the surrounding tissue. With Viscerality, he commanded Japhris' body to part before the advance of magic and death and fortified the immune system - once more commanding a full-out assault.
This time, it worked, and the invaders became ashes before the morning sun, banished in a gust of wind.
"It's done," said Dorian, hand shaking as he removed it from Japhris' chest. The girl herself had regained a touch of clarity, eyes swimming with sharp awareness and surprise at her sudden well-being. "I did it. The sickness is cured."
"You cured me?" she asked, in a tinny voice. His healing couldn't fully amend her physical exhaustion.
"I did." He smiled under his mask, satisfied.
He wasn't sure whether it was out of respect, or simply exhaustion returning to take its due, or a mixture - but Japhris lowered her head, chin pressed to her chest. Her voice was low, whispering, "Thank you. I owe you my life, then."
"Linneas, your strain of the disease is lesser, but it still requires a cure if we're to be safe. Stand still, and continue to pray for salvation." Normally, Dorian wasn't one to put stock in such enigmatic affairs as prayer or faith, but it seemed to have done something - perhaps because of their burgeoning connection as Pawn and King?
"Your Majesty, I hold no doubt in your capability to heal me as you have done with your other companion, for it is clearer with every moment that you are a man of endless talent." The man bowed his head in an admission of utter, bone-deep respect. "Please save me from this wasteful sickness. Save the world that awaits, too!"
As predicted, the distortion within leaped almost eagerly into Dorian's hand, like a singing bird onto the shoulder of its owner - now that he'd succeeded once and realized the proper way of directing the dissolution of animate matter, dissipating the disease within Linneas was almost comparatively simpler. His servant's exhortations continued throughout the process, this time, and they were observably affecting the contamination on some minute level; areas of the battle that Dorian neglected by accident or need continued to conduct as if he'd still administrated them for several moments, and it didn't take as many repetitions to crush the supernatural miasma keeping the disease alive.
"A success?" Andrei asked, a confident and easy smile adorning his face.
Dorian decided this merited swearing. "Fuck yes, good sir, it's a success!"
Andrei raised a hand. Dorian clapped it.
"Good work," the doctor commended with an even if satisfied tone. He reached into a pack and pulled out two walkie-talkies, handing one to Linneas, and shooting a glance at a half-unconscious Japhris, ultimately handing it to Dorian instead. "Whilst you were occupied, I was tinkering and made some new radios for your subjects."
"Excellent. How reliable?"
"I focused on signal strength and reliability against interference, rather than range. With the Street's mechanics, I doubt we'll stray too far from each other anyway. It's more useful to make sure it'll work even during a storm or some other such circumstance."
After instructing Linneas on the use of a radio, he was ordered to carry the exhausted Japhris on into the next world. Dorian and Andrei removed their masks, so as to avoid provoking undue suspicion.
They entered the odd village, appearing on a side street. Its abodes weren't made of the standard wood and brick, but rather, solid industrial metal, with sliding doors that operated on electricity. Lights shone on every street and corner with a strobing white luminescence. A soldier in white armor noticed them immediately.
"Halt," he declared and then muttered some sentences into a radio on his shoulder.
"Alerting others," muttered Andrei. "He mentioned unscheduled teleportation."
"Apply," the soldier commanded them with a cautious nod, once the radio talk concluded. "Who are you?"
"Dorian Croft," answered Dorian, taking the lead.
"Dr. Andrei Musorov," the doctor said.
"Linneas... no surname."
"And the woman you're carrying?"
"We don't know her full name, sir," said Dorian, before Linneas could cut in - a technically honest admission. "And she was too exhausted to have a conversation when we encountered her. It's been several hours since then. Could you escort us to somewhere we can rest?"
"No. But Lieutenant Carrasco will be here any minute to sort this out... That said, I don't have any persons of your names on my onboard computer list, nor was anyone scheduled to come down planetside today," the soldier remarked, seemingly more confused than suspicious or hostile. "Are you all with Orbital Command?"
"No," said Dorian, sensing already on some curious thread of instinct, that honesty would serve them well. "We've had a... I'm not sure you'll believe me, but we've had some kind of spatial transportation accident. I don't have any idea where we are. Honestly, I'm just glad to see people."
That one came from the heart, spoken with such fervent conviction the soldier stared at him for a moment. This was, after all, the second world in a row where Dorian didn't appear from the Street, only to be immediately attacked by armies of post-apocalyptic monsters. It was a nice trend that he deeply wished would continue from here on out.
"Yes, well..." His radio then erupted with some chatter. The soldier nodded and told them, "Follow me."
They were delivered to a waiting room inside a police or military station. Everything inside was pristine and white, or covered in metal - even the flowerpots, which only held neat and clipped ferns. With focus, he could sense their emergent biologies and the careful effort they'd put into making sure they couldn't grow excessively, as if terrified of the idea of a plant moving beyond its soil. A medic was called in to look over Japhris and she was taken to a local clinic, with which Dorian had no issue, although he doubted any mortal medicine they had could compare to his brand of Visceral healing, even if they mastered the art of manipulating genetics.
The aforementioned lieutenant came forth to interrogate and brief them.
Lieutenant Carrasco, flanked on each side by a soldier, made an imposing figure. Tall, redhaired, and strong, with a firm face that stared down at them with intuitive suspicion, in the same snow-white armor as the rest of the soldiers. Absently, Dorian noticed some organic abnormality living inside of her right eye. It seemed some chthonic alien creature sat inside, connected by a nerve-whisker to her brain, and her vision was slightly blurred and diminished as a consequence.
"I am Lieutenant Veronica Carrasco," she said. A thin smile appeared, unnaturally stretched, on her face. It was clear she didn't want them around her station. "Allow me to welcome you, to Orbital Command's resettlement location oh-seven, 'Oasis.' You experienced a teleportation incident, or so I was told by one of my men. I'll invite each of you to my office, individually, to explain the exact circumstances to me. You'll also be briefed on the nature of where you've ended up, but we can do that as a group afterwards."
One by one, she invited them to sit inside her office. Dorian instructed his friends not to overshare the details, but also to not tell lies. Eventually, he was asked to come inside the office as well and told the same story, and they were all released with a sigh of confusion from the military woman.
"We've had your friend checked over," the Lieutenant informed them, once they reassembled. "She's in a state of severe exhaustion, but otherwise in almost... unnaturally good health." The sentence had the candor and tone of an accusation, but no one said anything incriminating in response, simply staring at her until Dorian answered.
"Good to hear. You mentioned a briefing earlier?"
"Yes." The woman stared at him with a curious expression. "You're in Oasis, one of Orbital Command's relay stations and outposts on this section of Taure. We're in contact with and coordinate the actions of nearby villages, mostly for relic recovery and in efforts to thin out the forest."
"And how are those efforts proceeding?"
"Poorly," she stated with a clipped tone.
Dorian smiled. "Luckily for you, madam, we are a highly competent team ourselves."
This, as it was the first she'd heard of it, was clearly a surprise to her. "You are a recovery team?"
"Indeed. Our accident was caused by a relic, in fact, and we've claimed many of our own." This caused her eyes to narrow with slight suspicion. Were relics always meant to be handed off to Command? He decided to continue, overlooking this with the hopeful assumption they existed in a twilight of law. "If you could provide data and directions, once our comrade recovers, we'd be happy to demonstrate our competence. As long as the mission statement and recompense are good, of course."
"That's all fine and well," the woman stated, voice dripping with miasmatic skepticism, like a long barb of mistrust, "But I struggle to believe that your local Commander allowed you to keep Forest relics on you."
"And whyever not?" asked Dorian with a slight tilt of the head. "A single team equipped with a useful array of relics operates much better than a team without them, or even several teams without them. That's not to mention the obvious merits of survival and experience accumulation. We've several successful expeditions behind us and faced much hardship on some of them. An unorthodox procedure, yes, but it's boosted recovery efforts astronomically."
"I can see your point. You simply didn't look very well-equipped when you came in," the woman admitted, buying into Dorian's tale-spinning.
"Well, we've had to leave some equipment behind," he temporized. "And other things simply didn't get brought along."
"We'll assign you quarters. Given the difficulty of establishing contact with the orbital stations and other outposts, I am forced to accept your testimony as real." It was curious to him that she didn't ask the name of his outpost. An indicator that an average recovery team might not even know who their boss was, which likely had a reason behind it, and most likely put her in an awkward position. It was better not to push beyond this; even in this situation, they've earned fractional aid, and at least had the freedom to escape if their ruse was discovered. "I'll consider your offer."
He nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
---
Through a combination of wit, luck, and social instinct, you've successfully navigated a mostly unreadable situation and made yourself seem like a competent mercenary leader for hire. Top-tier bullshitting. This offered you a sufficient reprieve to, with a combination of your masks and mundane sleuthing, discover more about your world.
You can stay on Taure for as long as three (3) months, although forays outside of Oasis will burn off a lot of time.
On Taure (summary)
Over a decade ago, a dark forest spread across the world over several weeks, swallowing cities and breaking humanity's logistical backbone. Orbital habitats (governed by so-called Orbital Command, a collection of pre-forest governments and private interests) preserve the old world's technology and much of its nuclear arsenal; scientists and politicians plot the planet's reclamation. The rest of mankind persists in isolated villages inexplicably spared by the overgrowth, eking out an existence as subsistence farmers. Some brave the shadowed boughs in search of relics, other settlements, or at the orders of those above. Few return, for horrors lurk in the darkness. Laboratory study of relics recovered from the forest has advanced science by miles (and it was already a little better to a modern Earth, such as the one you'd encountered with zombies on it.)
---
After a few days and nights on Taure - spent mostly on crafting masks for survival and stealth, investigating the circumstances of this world, and assigning Linneas to watch over Japhris' recovery - the lieutenant decided to accept Dorian's offer and test him.
Here are your options:
[ ] Track Strange Signal - According to Lieutenant Carrasco, the outpost's instruments have tracked a strange, motile signal, navigating across the northern section of the forest at extraordinary speeds. Andrei will comment to you he's felt this strange presence out there as well, as if an electromagnetic anomaly were sweeping across the forest like a deity's finger. According to Carrasco, it's likely an organic anomalous threat. You're asked to investigate, and potentially eliminate the deviance if it could be a danger to the outpost, as well as recover any relics from its corpse if it should have any. You'll naturally be provided with standard equipment, including weapons and armor.
[ ] Scour Old City - If you want a calmer mission, there is an ongoing large-scale operation between several outposts and villages to scour the ruins of Slandon, one of the old world's larger cities. Where Forest and civilization meet, relics often form in high quantities, especially in mundane matter which somehow becomes attuned with anomalous capabilities. Fewer threats, but you'll be under more scrutiny. You'll naturally be provided with standard equipment, including weapons and armor.
[ ] Refuse - Naturally, you can simply refuse any of them. From what you've gleaned of this world's culture, this'd be frowned upon, as every citizen is a citizen of the Orbital Command, and refusing a lawful order is tantamount to a slight and more forgivable form of treason. This'll likely lead to censure, possibly arrest and seizure of 'relics.'
[ ] Run Away - Under the cover of night, make a getaway into the cursed forests of this world. It's unlikely you'll be pursued very far, if at all. You're rather confident in your ability to survive in such an environment either way, and the freedom might make for a better adventure.
[ ] Write-in
Who did you socialize with, over the last couple of days? (Choose two.)
[ ] Dr. Andrei Musorov - Talk to good old Musorov. Learn more about science and engineering, and maybe craft him an extra mask if you have the spare time.
[ ] Linneas of the Argent Kingdom - Learn more about Linneas and the world he came from, as well as the Power of the Kings you apparently now wield.
[ ] Japhris (?) - Aid Japhris' recovery with your Visceral magics, and, sitting by her bedside, try to coax some life and conversation out of her.
[ ] Lieutenant Carrasco - Learn more about the individual in charge of Oasis. Question her about the strange eyeball parasite, maybe? Is that a relic?
