[X] conjure a hailstorm of ice. Like spikes in your heart, you remember the day you stopped being a child and took control of your House.
[X] a sword ruthlessly beheads him from behind.
[X] a male human, fair-skinned but with facial tattoos around his cheeks and forehead amd an ornate loop of gold around his right ear. A Varani, your mind whispers, raider scum.
[X] "I am... I am... I-I cannot remember. I cannot remember who am I!"
[X] summon strong whirlwinds to aid you. Like a breeze on your face, you remember a time where you dreamed of flying far and wide across the lands.
[X] a sword ruthlessly beheads him from behind.
[X] a female elf, with ashen, greyish skin and large pointed ears. There's a slight smirk tugging at her lips. A Dokkalfar, your mind whispers, just like you.
[X] "I am... I am... I-I cannot remember. I cannot remember who am I!"
[X] summon strong whirlwinds to aid you. Like a breeze on your face, you remember a time where you dreamed of flying far and wide across the lands.
[X] a sword ruthlessly beheads him from behind.
[X] a female human, bronze-skinned and tall with brown hair. There's a sternness to her demeanor. An Almain, your mind whispers, pompous warhawks.
[X] (Lie) "I am Ciara Sydanus, the Empress of Erathell. My enemies imprisoned me because they sought to destroy my empire and my people. I will prove better than them."
The first and last votes relate directly to you and how you see yourself. The second and third votes relate directly to a very important NPC, the Fateless One.
This is the start of the Scholia Arcana faction questline in the game. Spoilers for those that don't know/remember: you're the villain. It remains to be seen if you'll go down that route here as well.
EDIT: Now that the MC has been picked, I can talk about the other options. The first MC option, as some had already deduced, was the game's MC, the Fateless One. The second is the one you picked. The third was the leader of the Warsworn faction, Tine Delfric. The warsworn are akin to the fighter's guild of Elder Scrolls, if you will. Here, they were demon-slaying heroes from long ago turned mercenaries. The fourth option would have involved creating an entirely new character from the ground up.
For those who didn't play Amalur, from an IC source:
And so it came to pass that in the years of strife, when the tyrant Queen Sydanus had sown the fields of Erathell thigh-deep with blood, three unlikely souls found the way out of the dark.
The first was a man named Elodan Bloodgood. A Varani shaper, he came to Erathell from far to the North, searching the world for the knowledge of stone. After refusing to build a temple in Sydanus' name, he was cast into prison.
The second was a Gnome named Marus Torix. A gifted gnosicant, he had long ago left the safety and comfort of his libraries to travel the world, to learn of things with his own eyes. For teaching a doctrine different from the unquestioning worship of Sydanus and her regime, he, too, was cast into prison.
The third was born deep within the dungeons of Rathir, a young Alfar girl named Eleanor Brea who grew to maturity blinded by the darkness that was her only home.
Upon Eleanor Brea's ascendance to adulthood deep within the dark of Sydanus' prisons, the gifts of elemental magics came to her. In fury, the girl burned the dungeon to the ground.
Guided by Master Torix and Bloodgood, she learned to wield her gift and, together, the three of them dared to fight against the tyrant queen.
Word spread quickly of a new group of masters, mages, and artisans who would teach any willing to learn. In time, others courageous enough to challenge Sydanus' might came forward, and what had started with a resistance of three quickly became ten, then a hundred, then a thousand.
Terrible battles of magic were waged. Thousands perished; entire cities were scoured from the face of the world, and untold horrors were birthed as each side tried desperately to craft the means of their victory.
Ciara Sydanus sought the destruction of their enemies by any method -- no sacrifice was to great, no atrocity too horrid. The darkest and the foulest of arts were pursued, and the cost to the populace was unrivaled by that of anyone's memory.
But the light of the three refused to be extinguished. The strength of Master Bloodgood, the wisdom and his skill, set the form and foundation of their hope. The brilliance of Master Torix, his knowledge and his insight, unlocked the chains of their bondage. And the passion of Mistress Brea, her spirit and her fury, lit the way to freedom.
What none could do alone, these three achieved together. Seven years after earning their freedom, high upon the heights of the spire of Rathir, they battled Sydanus, and the Dark Empyrean was imprisoned. Too powerful to be destroyed, she was contained beneath what would become the grounds of the Scholia Arcana, sealed away by the arcane glyphs and runes of our three founders. Here she will remain and you, Archsage, are the only sentinel of her prison. For on this foundation was the order built: to reach the greatest extents of knowledge, lest the reign of the Dark Empyrean returns again. Guard this wisdom, and find a worthy successor.
Different paths had led each into the chains of slavery. But it was there that each found strength from the other, and together, found their freedom. And so it was that the Scholia Arcana came to be.
[X] summon strong whirlwinds to aid you. Like a breeze on your face, you remember a time where you dreamed of flying far and wide across the lands.
[X] a sword ruthlessly beheads him from behind.
[X] a female elf, with ashen, greyish skin and large pointed ears. There's a slight smirk tugging at her lips. A Dokkalfar, your mind whispers, just like you.
[X] "I am... I am... I-I cannot remember. I cannot remember who am I!"
Yup, one of the routes you can go with the vote is precisely that way.
Also, I will start adding small snippets for the races and other stuff on the lore and add a map to the Faelands. I'll also link to the wiki if people are more comfortable taking a tour through there.
Vote called. With the votes from SB added to the ones in SV, the winner votes are:
[] summon strong whirlwinds to aid you. Like a breeze on your face, you remember a time where you dreamed of flying far and wide across the lands.
[] a sword ruthlessly beheads him from behind.
[] a female human, bronze-skinned and tall with brown hair. There's a sternness to her demeanor. An Almain, your mind whispers, pompous warhawks.
[] "I am... I am... I-I cannot remember. I cannot remember who am I!"
Update incoming between today and tomorrow.
Adhoc vote count started by Hastur on Oct 26, 2020 at 12:17 PM, finished with 9 posts and 7 votes.
[X] a female elf, with ashen, greyish skin and large pointed ears. There's a slight smirk tugging at her lips. A Dokkalfar, your mind whispers, just like you.
[X] a male human, fair-skinned but with facial tattoos around his cheeks and forehead amd an ornate loop of gold around his right ear. A Varani, your mind whispers, raider scum.
[X] (Lie) "I am Ciara Sydanus, the Empress of Erathell. My enemies imprisoned me because they sought to destroy my empire and my people. I will prove better than them."
[] summon strong whirlwinds to aid you. Like a breeze on your face, you remember a time where you dreamed of flying far and wide across the lands.
[] a sword ruthlessly beheads him from behind.
[] a female human, bronze-skinned and tall with brown hair. There's a sternness to her demeanor. An Almain, your mind whispers, pompous warhawks.
[] "I am... I am... I-I cannot remember. I cannot remember who am I!"
The words that had been about to spill from your mouth receive an early death as your mind screeches to halt. It had been a simple enough question, the one the human woman in front of you asked, but no words come from you as you try to find an answer.
"I can't- I can't remember my name!" you exclaim, your previously deep voice now sporting a very noticeable higher pitch.
A cold shiver trails down your spine as the horror of your situation sinks in. It's not just your name, however. Much as you try, nothing comes to you when you attempt to recall anything that made you who you were. You're sure there had been something once, but now, only a hollow pit remains where your memories should have been.
"I can't remember who I am. I can't remember anything!" you repeat with wide eyes, hands flying to grip your head.
"Calm down," the other woman quickly commands with a sharp voice the moment she sees you're starting to panic. Looking up from the ground, you can see the frown on her dirt-streaked face as she stares at you with wary bemusement. The perceived nonchalance in her demeanor ignites your fury in a way the grey-skinned thugs littering the streets didn't.
"How can I? My whole life is lost to me! Don't you dare tell me to calm down!" you snarl, taking a step forward. However, the other woman apparently hadn't dropped her guard, because she immediately hefts her shield and raises her sword, ready to strike you down if necessary.
You halt, but if looks could kill, you were sure she'd have gone into sudden combustion seconds ago.
"Getting yourself worked up isn't going to help you one bit, either. So do us both a favor and calm the fuck down." There's little heat in her words, only wariness at your explosive behavior, but her stance remains firm and without openings.
"Easy for you to say, you haven't lost everything that makes you you," you say with a growl. For a moment, you consider pressing the point, but you relent with a sigh. What's the point? As a deep weariness settles into your bones, you step back. Whatever fire fueled you during the fight with the grey-skinned thugs, it's long turned into mere embers.
The Almain woman scoffs, but regardless of her opinion, she stands down as well once she sees the fight's gone out of you. "You'd be surprised," she mutters as her eyes gain a far-away look for a moment. It passes quickly, however, and the wary, alert state from before returns to her features. Shifting on her spot, she points her sword downwards, but she pointedly doesn't sheathe her it. "Do you remember something, at least? Anything at all?"
"No!" you exclaim with obvious frustration. As much as you try, nothing comes back to you and the only reward for your efforts is the beginnings of a nasty headache for straining yourself in an attempt to force a memory, a face... something, to resurface. Even so, your denial is only a half-truth. There is something you do remember, but it's got nothing to do with who you were before your stay in the void.
Because of all the things you could have kept, it had to be the most recent memory that you have, the one of you trapped in a hellish prison and locked in permanent torture. You're not sure whether this is a bad joke or if you're the plaything of divine beings, but you'd rather not focus too much on the fact that your only clear memories are a lifetime of pain and your fragmented, confusing stay in the void.
Silently, the woman with brown hair takes a look at your surroundings. You can only guess at the thoughts running in her head. With the sounds from the fight having died down, the town square had fallen into that unnerving silence from before, an unnatural quietness that belied the town's true nature. Whatever this town is, it's not an actual place, that much you know. There's a humming in the air, almost too faint to pick up, but it's there if one strains their ears. And the air... the air shimmers sometimes, rippling as if the entire town was submerged in water.
The Almain ignores all of this, however - or at least, she makes sure to avoid showing it affects her in any way. Zeroing in on something behind you, she signals to it with a jerk of her head. "Come, follow me."
The words instantly put you on guard. "Why?" you question with a suspicious look, but she simply gives you a deadpan stare.
"I just saved your life. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered killing that Tuatha," she says with a small shrug. Again with that word. Tuatha. It must be the name of the thugs that attacked you, but for all you wrack your brain trying to remember something, nothing comes when you think about the word. It's completely alien to you. What she says is true, though. She did save your life. Still, that doesn't necessarily mean the woman in front of you has your best intentions in mind. You're all too aware that there are worse things than death in this life.
"Tell me what you're planning first. I won't go anywhere until you do," you demand. It wouldn't work for someone that was actively seeking to do you harm, but if that were the case, you'd have more pressing problems to worry about.
"You're a paranoid woman, aren't you?" the Almain woman muses with a shake of her head. She quickly raises her hands in a placating manner when you narrow your eyes, however. "My apologies. I understand that this is likely very confusing for you. Look, behind me is a river. I'm not sure if this will work, because it's not a real one, but we might see if seeing your reflection triggers some memory of yourself."
"You think that will work?" you question with a healthy dose of skepticism.
"It could work. Better than nothing. You've got a better idea?"
You don't, you freely admit to yourself, and in truth, it's not a half-bad idea, either. Backing away a few paces, you slightly turn your body to the side to peer behind you. Just like the Almain said, there's the river beyond the town square, with the stone bridge built solidly over it and connecting the fields separated by the stream. You're not sure if it will work, but...
'Might as well try it.' Worst case scenario, nothing happens, but the potential benefits far outweighed the negatives.
"Very well... but don't try anything!" you warn with a glare. There's faint amusement in the other woman's eyes, but it's gone in an instant and she firmly nods, sheathing her sword. Noticing for first time, you realize she's clad in simple, but functional armor, tinted with sea-green coloration. Curiosity piqued, you look down at yourself to inspect for the first time the garments you wear. It's a set of stylish black robes, inlaid with golden threads on your bracers, the flare of your robe's tails and the pauldrons on your shoulders. Your robes appear to be made of extremely good quality.
"Come, let's go."
The river is not too far away, but you still have time to ask your new companion something that's been niggling at the back of your mind since she mentioned it."You said something about a test before. Do you know what this place is?" This is your most important question. You appeared in here out of the void. There had to be a reason for it, you are sure of it.
Helmet in her hands, the brown-haired woman glances at you from the corners of her eyes. "This... was supposed to be a test. A magical one, to measure my potential. I'm still trying to work out if you were part of it or not," she says.
A test? How ridiculous. Your thoughts must've been reflected on your face, because the Almain snorts. "It wouldn't have been my first choice, either. Still, it was a necessary evil."
You wanted to pry more into the matter, but you'd reached the river by this point and there was no sense on delaying this further. Slipping down onto the edges of the river, barely raised over the rushing water, you take a deep breath. There's no denying the trepidation you feel, the way your heart's bucking so fast it might jump out of your chest at any moment. What if you see your own reflection and there's no reaction? What if there is and you remember everything that you were before? What if you don't like who you were?
There's only one way to find out.
Steeling your resolve, you move forward, wading deeper into the water. Even standing in the middle of the river, the water only reaches your hips. You lean down with your eyes closed, feeling the cold water pass through you, through your clothes and seep into your bones. The water is chilly, but it's a welcome sensation. Shivering slightly, you finally open your eyes over the crystal clear water, staring at your own reflection.
Through the rippling water, your see the mane of dark locks of hair that crown your head, spilling over your shoulders. You can make out the vivid red of your lips, a splash of color in stark contrast with the paleness of your skin. Pointed ears, surrounded and protected by your dark hair. You're not completely sure with the slightly distorted reflection of yourself on the water, but you'd swear you also have dark green eyes.
At risk of sounding vain and conceited, you are a beautiful woman. You could be described as regal, even, because there's something in those eyes that peer back at you, in the vaguely slanted nose, in the full lips, that screams the fact you were someone once.
And yet, this is the first time seeing your face that you can consciously recall. There's no sense of familiarity. There's no sudden flash of memories searing themselves into your brain, slotting into place as they were meant to do. You know you're looking at your very own face, but it's like meeting a stranger for the first time.
You rise from the water slowly and you have to start taking deep breaths once more to stop yourself from hyperventilating into another panic attack. There's a deafening silence as the seconds pass and they turn into minutes. In the end, you make your way to the edge of the river and climb into the edge of the field, where the Almain woman was waiting. She says nothing, because there are no words to be said, because it's plain to see on your face that her idea failed.
"I'm sorry," she simply says after a moment.
"I am, too," you mutter. Your eyes look past the Almain woman towards the town, but they don't register it. For one moment, one glorious moment, you had hoped that...
"I'm not sure if you'll ever regain your memories... but you can't focus on that now. Whether you do or not, you still need to pick up the pieces and go on. It will be hard, but it must be done. All beginnings often start with a name. Our name is often the foundation on which we build who we are. Let us introduce ourselves, then. My name is Kathryn, Kathryn Vuldast. Might I know your name?"
Your name? Yes, you suppose you can give her a name.
"My name is:
[] Write-in
"Good. A name might not seem like much, but it's what it represents what's important. This is the beginning, your new foundation. Everything else will come in time, I'm sure."
They are strong words, but left adrift as you are, they offer a lifeline for you to hold onto. You desperately want to believe them, for it's the only spark of hope you have right now. And speaking of right now, the entire area starts shaking as if a slumbering giant started to wake up deep below ground.
"What's happening?!" you exclaim, flailing about in an attempt to regain your balance.
"I don't know! Grab onto something!" Kathryn yells as she rushes towards the town.
Cursing, you follow her, but you seriously doubt going into the town is going to help any. If anything, getting into one of the homes would be a bad idea - the roof might cave in on your heads! A loud, thunderous crack makes you look behind you and your eyes widen when you see the waterfall on the hill crack and shatter into a thousands shards of crystal, each with a piece of waterfall, still with water flowing on it. Dumbfounded, you stop, unable to react as the shards glitter for a moment before disintegrating into wisps of light.
"What the-?"
"Come on!" comes Kathryn's forceful voice next to you, before she shoves you forward towards the town.
"What do we do?! The entire place is coming down!" you yell over the wind. The gentle breeze that had caressed your face not that long ago was now a roaring wind that made hard to speak at a normal volume.
"How should I know?! I doubt this was part of the test!"
Just as you were about to retort something in reply, a wizened voice spoke up, somehow remaining intelligible over the wind's furious howling.
"...foreign presence... the Trial... initiate. ... hard... control. We ... attempting to... stabilization, but-"
"Who is that?!" you yelled. Had this been any other situation, you'd have been hard pressed not to feel some sense of mortification at the panic that was starting to bleed into your voice.
"The man presiding my Initiation Trial!"
"That tells me nothing, damnit!" you complain, but there's no time for anything else as you fall to your knees with a scream.
You can feel invisible hooks piercing you, burrowing into your arms and legs and pulling in each direction. Your scream is equal parts pain and terror, because you recognize this sensation - this horrible feeling of being split apart in shreds, uncaring of the result. The void is calling for you once more and it's determined to return you to your hellish prison. A black, gaping hole of Nothing opens up in front of your eyes and the fact that Kahtryn doesn't react at all while she's yelling at you means that she can't see the horror happening next to her.
No, no! This can't be how it ends for you, not now, not after you've tasted freedom for the first time in who knows for how long!
"I won't go back there! I will never go back to that hell! Never again! I will not!" you shriek, and your magic lashes out like a rabid, cornered animal. The hooks pulling you apart and dragging you towards Nothing still exist, but your magics surges within you like a tidal wave in an attempt to pull them out and drive them back.
Screaming as you are, you hardly notice how the area around is crackling as a razor-sharp whirlwind starts to form around your body. The town square, or whatever this place is, is splitting apart at an increased pace and the sky has started rippling violently, rumbling with ominous noises.
Kathryn is... somewhere, though you cannot hear her over the sounds of the world dying around you. For all you know, a part of your brain thinks, she might already be dead.
The tug-o'-war between the void hooks and your magic is a brutal and brief one. Unfortunately, it doesn't end in your favor. You can feel the hooks dragging you closer to the void again, to be forever more trapped in that hellish existence that you just escaped minutes ago. You can't go back. You will not go back!
"NO!"
In a last ditch effort, you redirect your magic outwards, grasping tendrils like greedy fingers. As you are rushed towards the void, you press beyond the confines of what you can see. Beyond the town square, beyond the rippling sky, beyond the disintegrated waterfall... you find it.
Six sparks of life. There! Hadn't Kathryn said someone was presiding her Initiation Trial, whatever that was? This must be them, the people conducting this trial! This is it! Your salvation, so close you can almost grasp it!
Your next actions are driven purely by raw, crazed instinct. Moving towards the two sparks closest to you, you fling your magic in a desperate gambit to escape the void. You only have a split second to redirect most of your magic towards one of the sparks, even though a couple more are splashed by the ripples that your magic leaves in its careless wake.
The spark of life you went for is:
[] a red spark, shining with the warmth of fire within it. You get the impression of a Ljosalfar woman casting fire from her hands.
[] a bluish spark, shimmering with the cold of frost within it. You get the impression of a Dokkalfar man shooting shards of ice from his hands.
You engulf the spark with your magic, smothering it with your essence and suffusing the spark with it. No sooner have you done this, a tremendous explosion erupts in your ears, deafening you. Blinding light fills your vision for a moment before it returns to you ever so slowly. It's hardly an improvement, however, because you can only see fire and smoke through watery eyes. You can see shadowy figures beyond the curtains of black smoke however and there are faint shouts of alarm under the keening sound filling your ears.
You are only half-aware that you move, rushing through the corridors and braving the flames half-blinded, ignoring everyone that calls after you as you pass them by. You can faintly feel someone else running behind you, but you don't even turn around to check who is it.
At one point, you spot a ray of light piercing the thick smoke and coughing, you stumble into the outside, feeling the pure air clear a bit your nose and head. You fall to your knees, gasping and heaving from the ordeal and you feel your eyes water from the sheer relief of being able to escape the void. You are free! The mere idea is enough to elicit laughter from you, though it's a raspy thing, clogged from the smoke and heat. You couldn't care less, however; you are alive and free!
However, the respite is short-lived because someone grabs your arms and asks you something in a shout. It's his mistake. Caught by surprise, you shriek. Magic surges, answering your silent plea. The next seconds are a blur to you. Booming thunder echoes in the air and another explosion echoes near you.
Feet running.
The splash of water.
Yells in the distance.
Running.
Running.
How long have you been running? You don't know.
Trees, rocks and rivers pass you by, but you don't stop. You cannot stop. Not until you're safe. Not until-
You pass out.
And when you regain your conscience, you wake up:
[] in the nook of a weathered, ruined stone room. There are broken pots next to you, with a crumbling table and book shelf on the other wall opposite of you. The room has no door and you can see more of the building you're in. It seems to be some sort of underground ruin or cavern. You can only hear the slow dripping of water from somewhere near your position.
[] in a comfortable bed. Looking around you, you can see a cozy room inviting you to sleep in. There's a fire crackling merrily within the fireplace on the opposite wall, a desk with some papers, a dresser and a single bookshelf filled with books. A dark rug decorated with geometrical designs covers a large portion of the floor. Next to your bed, a lit candle rests on a small, wooden nightstand. The door to the room is nearly closed, but it still allows inside the sound of faint whispers from beyond.
[] in a somewhat stiff bed. Looking around you, you spot rows of other beds. Most of them are empty, but you spot at least a few occupied by men and women alike, all slumbering. The walls are of hewn stone, red-brown and weathered, but still appearing to be maintained. Banners hang on the walls, depicting a rampant blue beast pierced by a spear. A scrapping noise brings your attention to an man with blue and faded yellow armor, seated on a chair sharpening his sword. Beyond the room's open door, you can hear the hubbub of people talking and laughing.
Notes: With this update, we'll finish the initial char gen and we can start exploring the world. Things are going to start making more sense, writing style-wise. This is still the prologue, though.
EDIT: Character sheet updated.
[X] a bluish spark, shimmering with the cold of frost within it. You get the impression of a Dokkalfar man shooting shards of ice from his hands.
[X] in a comfortable bed. Looking around you, you can see a cozy room inviting you to sleep in. There's a fire crackling merrily within the fireplace on the opposite wall, a desk with some papers, a dresser and a single bookshelf filled with books. A dark rug decorated with geometrical designs covers a large portion of the floor. Next to your bed, a lit candle rests on a small, wooden nightstand. The door to the room is nearly closed, but it still allows inside the sound of faint whispers from beyond.
[X] a red spark, shining with the warmth of fire within it. You get the impression of a Ljosalfar woman casting fire from her hands.
[X] in a comfortable bed. Looking around you, you can see a cozy room inviting you to sleep in. There's a fire crackling merrily within the fireplace on the opposite wall, a desk with some papers, a dresser and a single bookshelf filled with books. A dark rug decorated with geometrical designs covers a large portion of the floor. Next to your bed, a lit candle rests on a small, wooden nightstand. The door to the room is nearly closed, but it still allows inside the sound of faint whispers from beyond.
[x] a bluish spark, shimmering with the cold of frost within it. You get the impression of a Dokkalfar man shooting shards of ice from his hands.
[x] in the nook of a weathered, ruined stone room. There are broken pots next to you, with a crumbling table and book shelf on the other wall opposite of you. The room has no door and you can see more of the building you're in. It seems to be some sort of underground ruin or cavern. You can only hear the slow dripping of water from somewhere near your position.
No name vote. No idea what the naming schemes in the setting are.
Part of me feels pity and wants to give her her old first name, Ciara, if nothing else. The other part of me wants to go with Niah for now, the default name for female Dokkalfar characters.
[] in a somewhat stiff bed. Looking around you, you spot rows of other beds. Most of them are empty, but you spot at least a few occupied by men and women alike, all slumbering. The walls are of hewn stone, red-brown and weathered, but still appearing to be maintained. Banners hang on the walls, depicting a rampant blue beast pierced by a spear. A scrapping noise brings your attention to an man with blue and faded yellow armor, seated on a chair sharpening his sword. Beyond the room's open door, you can hear the hubbub of people talking and laughing.
Part of me feels pity and wants to give her her old first name, Ciara, if nothing else. The other part of me wants to go with Niah for now, the default name for female Dokkalfar characters.
Pretty sure this is Helmguard Keep, the Warsworn's stronghold in Erathell.
Well spotted. As for the name, it's up to you guys. It be something resembling fantasy names, it's not really a big deal, given the amnesia. If you go with her actual name it'll definitely have consequences.
[X] Ciara
[X] in the nook of a weathered, ruined stone room. There are broken pots next to you, with a crumbling table and book shelf on the other wall opposite of you. The room has no door and you can see more of the building you're in. It seems to be some sort of underground ruin or cavern. You can only hear the slow dripping of water from somewhere near your position.
[X] in a comfortable bed. Looking around you, you can see a cozy room inviting you to sleep in. There's a fire crackling merrily within the fireplace on the opposite wall, a desk with some papers, a dresser and a single bookshelf filled with books. A dark rug decorated with geometrical designs covers a large portion of the floor. Next to your bed, a lit candle rests on a small, wooden nightstand. The door to the room is nearly closed, but it still allows inside the sound of faint whispers from beyond.
[x] in the nook of a weathered, ruined stone room. There are broken pots next to you, with a crumbling table and book shelf on the other wall opposite of you. The room has no door and you can see more of the building you're in. It seems to be some sort of underground ruin or cavern. You can only hear the slow dripping of water from somewhere near your position.
With the vote from SB, the winner votes are these:
[] Ciara
[] a bluish spark, shimmering with the cold of frost within it. You get the impression of a Dokkalfar man shooting shards of ice from his hands.
[] in the nook of a weathered, ruined stone room. There are broken pots next to you, with a crumbling table and book shelf on the other wall opposite of you. The room has no door and you can see more of the building you're in. It seems to be some sort of underground ruin or cavern. You can only hear the slow dripping of water from somewhere near your position.
Awareness comes slowly. First, the sound of water dripping onto silent stone, a relentless sound that persists in your ears. Then, the hard surface of the wall you're leaning against, curled up into a ball as you are, and with many little stones lightly poking your back. You can feel the chill hanging in the air, caressing your skin and you let out an unintelligible grunt of discomfort. Sight is the last sense to return to you and through bleary eyes, you can only see the remains of what once was probably a room... Now, however, it's little more than a wrecked ruin, ravaged by time and looters most likely.
You... you're not quite sure how you got here. The moments after your desperate gamble against the void are all but a blur to you and while you remember running, you can scarcely recall little else. But - yes, you were fleeing, you can say that much. Still, though you can't know what happened exactly after escaping, there's little time to dwell on that now. After all, you have more pressing concerns, like getting a feel for this place.
Rising from your curled position by the wall, you groan as you stretch the little kinks of your body. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground is definitely not going to do wonders for you. Taking in the ruined room, you approach the crumbling table with a stumbling, unsteady gait. There's a hollowness within you, like a nausea building up in the pit of your stomach, and you can't quite put the finger on why. You hope you're not sick. That'd be the last thing you need after managing to escape the void.
Reaching the table, you use it as a steadying tool. It creaks ominously, weathered and covered in dust as it is, but it holds. Barely. A wave of of nausea sweeps over you and you groan, trying to ride out the headache that comes with it.
"Fuck," you curse, and you promptly freeze up, because that's not the voice that you'd come to associate with yourself during your brief interaction with Kathryn in that strange little town. In fact, the voice could be called anything but feminine. It's a man's voice, quite unlike what you are.
Dazedly, you bring your hands to your face. You can't quite suppress the little shocked gasp upon touching the small goatee on your chin, or the harsher, more pointed features of your face. Running an hesitant hand over your chest reveals a smooth body-line, without the noticeable swell of a woman's bust. A short, but quick inspection of yourself confirms your initial worst fears.
You have, somehow, woken up in a man's body. You grip the edges of the table, body trembling as the full realization of this fact sinks in. You are... fuck. Fuck.
"Fuck!" you yell into the silence, unable to put into other words the absolute frustration you feel. You are no man, thank you very much! And yet you had to end up in the body of one!
In truth, you can seldom complain about the result of your actions. With your brain kicking into motion to process the whole situation in a way that is frighteningly clinical, you remember the desperation you felt as the hooks dragged you into the void. You remember how you gambled everything on your last hand. It hadn't been a conscious decision at the time, you know, but it's obvious now that the sparks you had felt then were the essences - the souls?- of the people overseeing Kathryn's supposed Initiation trial. And you had to end in the body of one of the men...
"The gods hate me," you mumble tiredly. How are you even going to work with... with this? Even if you don't remember who you were before, you still know the differences between man and woman. You have enough awareness of yourself to understand and accept that you were- are a woman!
But no. You can't get hung up on this hurdle. You will get over this. You know you can. If you are to survive, you must.
"This isn't going to stop me," you mutter to yourself, trying really hard to refrain from shuddering at the jarring disconnect between the voice that you hear and the one you know you should be hearing.
But first things first, you need to get out of this room and decide your next action.
Inspecting the room, you spot little that could be of value. The room is in a complete state of ruin and there's little that doesn't appear to be broken. However, in one of the broken pots next to where you were sleeping against the wall, you find a small pouch of coins in a threadbare sack.
"Someone must've forgotten them at some point. Their loss." And their loss is your gain in this case.
1d100: 70
70 coins found!
Cheered up by your success, you examine the room in an effort to see if you missed anything and your efforts are given fruit when you spot a small little pile in one of the corners of the room, half-hidden by the shadows. It's a mismatch of broken pieces and safety hazards, but you crow victoriously when you hit the jackpot shifting through the pile.
1d20: 7
A long, chipped and brittle rod of wood that you'd taken for a simple broken tree branch turns out to be a staff. '- such as a staff, the weapon of a mage,' a flat, smooth voice suddenly whispers in your mind and you frown. For a moment there, it seemed like...
Shaking your head, you continue shifting through the pile until you find a pair of rusted, cracked daggers. The leather from the hilts is all but worn off, but they might still have some life left in them.
Inspecting your findings, you can tell the staff seems to be in working condition, even if it looks crude and simple. The daggers in turn might be more maneuverable and provide more options (you can't deny the staff doesn't look inconspicuous at all!), but they definitely look more worn, which might not be ideal if they break when you need them most. Still, both are weapons, do you really wish to debate the benefits of one, when you might need the protection they offer?
Looking at your options with a critical eye, you finally decide to take the:
[] crude wooden staff.
[] worn iron daggers.
With your choice made and feeling more secure now that you're armed, you step out into the world beyond your room. It doesn't take long for you to work out the fact that your room, small as it was, was some sort of side room meant for storage of some sort, attached to a larger chamber. This bigger room sports a stone dais in one of its walls, on which stands a small black altar. Or the remains of what looked to be one, in any case. Large stone tables are spread out in the room, carved from greyish stoone and smooth to the touch and only broken plates and ashes remain under a thick layer of dust.
It's obvious to you that this place, whatever it is, housed people at some point. Now, only you remain.
"Me and whatever beasts might call this place home," you are quick to remind yourself in a whisper. It's a very reasonable assumption, after all. You can't tell if your whispering is because you don't want to signal your position or you're too scared to listen to the sound of your- the man's voice.
The only truly noteworthy detail in the room are the geometrical patterns etched onto the blackened stone. Circles and squares, shaped into elegant motifs and swirling patterns. There are some on the walls, but the largest one covers a good portion of the floor in the room. They all glow brightly and when you kneel to inspect the one you're standing on, you can feel power pulsing underneath your fingers. It's faint, no doubt about it, and you can hardly guess at what purpose they might've served, but the power... their magic is undeniable and it's there.
'A mystery for another time,' you think with a shake of your head. You have other concerns to deal with first.
Exiting the room, you begin to make your way through the underground ruin, for this is what seems to be the place you've awakened to. Everywhere you go, you get similar findings in other rooms spread all over the building: broken furniture, ravaged by time; stone structures broken or fallen into disrepair and the glowing geometrical patterns that are everywhere. However, there is one detail you can't help but notice.
There are no bodies lying around, not even skeletons.
It's a foreboding thought, but the lack of signs of struggle or fights goes a long way in easing your concerns. For now.
You walk through a maze of corridors and chambers, trying to find your way in this confusing labyrinth. Even though you are surrounded by silence, you can almost hear the skittering of feet and faint bestial shrieks at some points, and once you find a staircase that brings you up a level, you start to see crude, makeshift wooden contraptions and traps, which confirms your theory that someone is definitely here.
However, in the near complete silence of the ruins, you have found the peace to consider your situation. Despite the setbacks, you had managed to escape to void after so long, which could only be counted as a win. Hells, you had even begun to take your life back into your hands by claiming a name!
"Ciara," you had told Kathryn. "My name is Ciara."
You smiled at the thought. It was a good name. It felt good. It felt right. And most of all, it was your name. No one could take that from you.
Moreover, you now know at least one piece of evidence about your former self. You were a mage. Given the powerful whirlwinds you'd summoned easily enough against those Tuatha, it's an obvious assumption to think you'd had formal training at some point before. Either that, or you were some sort of natural prodigy. Either option works for you, really.
The memory of the magic you had used in that town construct is clear to you and with little else to do, you try to exercise your magic by repeating it. While you don't manage to recreate the level of magic you'd used before, you are able to create one single whirlwind after several attempts. It might mot be as powerful as the ones you were able to summon, but it's still a start.
Whirlwind spell learned!
A strong gust of wind that at when maxed levels has a chance to knock back enemies, nullifying their attacks turn. [1/3]
After surviving the encounter with the so-called Tuatha in a place suspended in time, you have gained 50 XP!
Still, for all your success, you can't stop thinking about the fact, it's someone else's magic doing the heavy lifting. You had taken the body of someone else to escape. You were wearing a stranger's skin to make your way into the world and that's something that you can't deny. You felt:
[] disgusted by your own actions. He was a person and you stole his body to save your own skin. Even if it was a mistake driven by desperation, how could you even look at yourself after this?
[] remorseful, but at peace. It was a necessary evil in order to ensure your survival, but you wish it hadn't gotten to this point.
[] indifferent. So what if you had taken his body? You needed to escape the void. It could have been any other. Right or wrong, it saved your life and that's what you care about.
[] satisfaction at your newfound freedom. You haven't survived the void, splintered as you might be, just to roll over and die. Sucks for the man, but better him than you.
[] gleeful at the idea of his very own life being taken over by your mind. What must have been his last moments like, you wonder? Did he feel fear? Resignation? You dearly wish you could have experienced it!
You nodded to yourself. Yes, that sounded about right.
Rounding a corner, you stumble upon a fork in the corridor, with two paths diverging and leading deeper into the ruin. You are still debating which path might be the better option when your sensitive ears pick up on the faint sounds of battle coming from the right path.
You hesitate, wondering if investigating is a good idea in your state, but the memory of Kathryn coming to your aid when she knew nothing about you sends you half-jogging towards the sounds of battle with a soft curse.
As you move through the corridors, the sounds of battle increase in loudness, masking your arrival and quickly crouching behind a stone wall that would probably only reach up to your waist, you remain hidden as you investigate what's happening.
You spot four people trying to survive against feral creatures wielding makeshift spears in the middle of a large room. 'Kobolds,' some part of your mind sighs as if a breeze on the wind when you eye the beasts, and you can't help the silent snarl that takes over your face for a split second. 'Filthy mongrels... Not surprising they're here, they always lurk in unhinabited places in fear of civilization.'
You don't even question the knowledge, so incensed you are at the sight of these savage kobolds for some strange reason. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath. You can't lose your cool here.
Though it's hard to make out in the chaos of battle, you're able to identify the four people trying to fight for their lives. They are a Gnome, two Varani mercenaries and a Ljosalfar wearing faded and tattered robes. They seem to be some sort of adventuring group. The Gnome and the Ljosalfar are blasting the spear-wielding kobolds with magic, while the Varani hold them back with their own weapons.
Off to a side, there is a hissing pot held over a small fire, and there seems to be a rudimentary bag lying next to a block of stone near it. Small black orbs spill from it.
The same black orbs, you quickly realize, as the ones one of the kobolds is throwing at the adventurers, setting off small explosions around them.
'Explosives!'
However and thanks to what appears to be mindless savagery on the kobolds' part, it seems the adventurers are managing to hold their own, as they can work around the beasts. Regardless, there seems to be quite a few more of the savages than adventurers and it would probably only take a mistake to turn the tide either way. Or someone's intervention in favor of one of the groups...
You:
[] enter the fray.
-[] Write-in strategy (who you side with, what do you do, how do you do it...). Can be as simple or as complex as you wish.
[] ignore the battle and retreat. It was a close vote, but in the end dungeon crawling won over a taking a step back and having a nice rest. Not sure if I should be surprised or not lol.
[X] disgusted by your own actions. He was a person and you stole his body to save your own skin. Even if it was a mistake driven by desperation, how could you even look at yourself after this?
[X] enter the fray.
-[X] Whirlwind, aim to catch the thrown explosives and return them to sender.
[X] disgusted by your own actions. He was a person and you stole his body to save your own skin. Even if it was a mistake driven by desperation, how could you even look at yourself after this?
[X] enter the fray.
-[X] Whirlwind, aim to catch the thrown explosives and return them to sender.
[x] indifferent. So what if you had taken his body? You needed to escape the void. It could have been any other. Right or wrong, it saved your life and that's what you care about.
We wouldn't be a villainess if we worried about every man we wronged. It was either this, or another eternity in the Void. Given the choice, we would never have redone the action anyway, no matter its effects on us - nevermind them - so there is nothing to be gained by self-reflection.
[x] enter the fray.
-[x] Whirlwind, aim to catch the thrown explosives and return them to sender.
I actually thought the same thing, but I rolled for amount of weapon availability in the first loot roll. There were three tiers for all three archetypes: since Ciara was always a mage build in-universe, mage weapon was the easiest to clear (and the default), rogue was a middle ground which you barely edged into and warrior, by virtue of being completely opposite to what Ciara was (not that she remembers as of now), were the highest DC to clear. That said, don't worry too much, you'll definitely find warrior melee weapons sooner or later if you're interested in that.
I'm actually not sure how much I'll lock-in weapon choices, but I'm working on the idea of them making sense. You won't be able to carry two greatswords and pull them out of thin air, for example.
As for the whirlwind, it can always go either way depending on how the rolls go.
Anyway, inserting tally. Between the votes here and SB, there's a three-way tie between remorseful, indifferent and disgusted lol. I'll wait till 24:00 PM sharp (so in about 11 hours or so) to see if anybody breaks the tie or there's a new vote, but if not I'll roll for it and let Lady luck decide. Update incoming this weekend, regardless of what wins.
Adhoc vote count started by Hastur on Nov 6, 2020 at 7:04 AM, finished with 5 posts and 5 votes.
[X] disgusted by your own actions. He was a person and you stole his body to save your own skin. Even if it was a mistake driven by desperation, how could you even look at yourself after this?
[x] indifferent. So what if you had taken his body? You needed to escape the void. It could have been any other. Right or wrong, it saved your life and that's what you care about.
EDIT: Vote called. As there were no new votes to break the vote tie in one option, I have rolled for it as stated. I rolled a 3 on a 1d3, using the options on the order they were given.
The winner votes is thus:
[] crude wooden staff.
[] indifferent. So what if you had taken his body? You needed to escape the void. It could have been any other. Right or wrong, it saved your life and that's what you care about.
[] enter the fray.
-[] Whirlwind, aim to catch the thrown explosives and return them to sender.
Last edited:
Chapter 5: Ciara & Adventurers vs Kobold Pack. Fight!
[] crude wooden staff.
[] indifferent. So what if you had taken his body? You needed to escape the void. It could have been any other. Right or wrong, it saved your life and that's what you care about.
[] enter the fray.
-[] Whirlwind, aim to catch the thrown explosives and return them to sender.
Adventurer group Initiative (4): 258
Kobolds group Initiative (8): 302
Kobolds Go first
Ciara interrupts! Goes first. Turn 1
Ciara's surprise Whirlwind attack: 1d100+20 => 106 Critical [+10 XP]
-15 Mana: 85/100 Ciara's Mana left!
Ciara's reroll for critical damage: 1d100 => 78
Kobolds hit with grenades: 1d8 => 2
Kobold Pair 1: 100-78: 22 HP Left!
-- Kobolds Turn
Kobold pair 1 attack: 1d100-10 => 81
Gnome's defense: 1d100+20 (Veteran's Edge) => 116 crit!
Gnome's counterattack! 1d100 => 4
Kobold pair 1 Health: 22 – 4: 18 HP Left!
All enemies defeated! The battle is won! [+15 XP]
Ciara earns 35 XP!
You quickly decide to help the adventurers. For a moment, your mind contemplates the possibility of helping the kobolds, but their savage looks and demeanor is surely a strong mark against them. Why would you help a beast-like race like that that doesn't seem capable of higher thought aside from a crude mockery of it?
Eyeing the kobold flinging small explosives, you grin, a plan forming in your head.
You can still remember the feeling of the magic on your skin, the way the wind coalesced around your form as it took in the form of a cutting whirlwind. Like a flaring light in your mind, you call upon your magic.
Standing up from your crouched position behind the broken half-wall, you allow yourself a moment to study the battlefield. While there are two clearly defined groups in the room, the kobolds are rapidly advancing on the adventurers and it won't be long until they clash against each other. Both groups are so focused on each other that none spot you as you rise up from your hiding position.
Pleased, you quickly rush along the wall, on the edge of the room, to get a better angle. Your magic is already pushing up within you, seeking release as it builds up. Positioning yourself at an angle between the adventurers and the kobolds, you let the magic surge. With the kobolds looking in your general direction, a couple spot you, but they aren't fast enough to react.
When the bomb-flinging kobold throws another salvo of explosives towards the adventurers, you jump forward, allowing your magic to take the shape of a deadly whirlwind and flying towards the kobolds, catching the bombs in midair.
The kobolds try to move away, but the whirlwind is advancing on them and you cut the magic as soon as possible to get them all. Unfortunately, kobolds are agile, slippery beasts and when the bombs fall, only two of them are hurt. But those two… oh, they are hurt badly. With a loud bang, the bombs explode and the two kobolds caught in the blast are left a visibly charred mess. Despite the gory sight and the shrieks leaving their throats, they still advance on the group, mad with bloodlust even if they are clearly hurt and slower than before.
While the kobolds are caught by surprise, their momentum is too much to stop and they barrel into the adventurers. To their credit however, most of your new allies don't visibly react, taking your sudden appearance and assistance in stride.
They are clearly work like a well-oiled machine. Even when the kobolds split in pairs to harry each of the adventurers individually, they still manage to form a cohesive line and don't allow the kobolds to flank them, fending off their advances. Hell, the female Varani, wielding a wicked-looking pair of daggers even manages to parry the spears attacking them and counterattack with a brutal slash against her enemies, leaving them stumbling for a moment.
"Ha! That's my sister for you, ugly beasts!" the other Varani shouts, as he dodges a stab from one of his kobold enemies.
"Virnjorn, focus you damn oaf!"
The now named Virnjorn simply laughs at his sister's rebuke and continues to evade and parry the brutal attacks from the kobolds and he even makes it look easy.
Blocking a spear throw with an expert parry from his short sword, the gnome, wearing heavy plate, advances two steps before burying his weapon deep within the guts of one of the kobolds. Not wasting any second, he carves a long cut through its belly before grabbing the spear that had clattered to the ground and smashes deep into the other kobold's skull.
With his foes killed, he wipes the sweat from his brow with a frantic movement before snapping at the Varani. "Less bickering and more killing, you two!" he snarls, earning an affirmative shout from the mercenaries.
"Aye aye!"
Jumping into the fray next to the Ljosalfar mage, you watch as he takes a quick glance at you while reading a frost spell. That proves to be a mistake, because his eyes widen in recognition when he sees you; concentration broken, he slips on the rubble littering the ground and the spell, half-ready, blasts a hole into the ceiling and showering you all with dust and debris.
Being next to you, you try to help him, but the reaction was so unexpected that you're a second too slow. One of the kobolds slams a spear into the ground and the mage only manages to barely roll out of the way to avoid being impaled. His shout of pain is a telltale sign he didn't escape unscathed however and this time, you're quick to react.
1d3 => 1 Staff imbued with Fire element.
Brandishing your staff, you summon a wave of fire to keep the kobolds away from the mage as he rises to his feet. He's bleeding from his side, pressing at the wound with bloody fingers. His tattered and faded robes are torn up.
"You okay?!" you exclaim and in the heat of the battle, there's no time to flinch at the male voice coming from your mouth.
"You-you…" he stammers with wide eyes, but you growl in annoyance. Mistakes as his can be costly and not just for him.
"No time for that! Fight, damnit!"
Around you, the battle rages on. The Varani mercenaries have engaged half of the other kobolds and they're doing and excellent job of keeping them at bay while bleeding them and in no time they're starting to show a multitude of wounds.
While the kobolds try to press their superior numbers, they are less than before and even with their mage wounded, the adventurers are able to block or parry all their attacks. Recognizing the mage as the weakest link with his wound, you stick close to him in order to protect the group and to deny the kobolds the chance to pick you all off one by one.
With the comfortable grip of the staff in your hand, you act, twirling it to unleash a torrent of fire onto two of the wounded kobolds. Screaming, they go down as the smell of charred, cooked flesh starts to rise up in the room.
"Good one, man!" the Varani man shouts as he jumps over the still burning kobold corpses and engages in a short, brutal dance with his sword that ends with two decapitated heads rolling over the floor.
Next to him, his dark-haired sister weaves around the attacks from her own enemies before shoving one of the daggers through the base of the kobold's mouth and throwing her remaining dagger into the skull of the other beast.
'Pure luck,' you dryly think from a few steps away having seen it, but it's undeniable that she has clear skill.
Only two kobolds remain and seeing the slaughter of their kind, it's made clear to them that they're next. Somehow, their frantic movement helps them out in throwing off their enemies, because their erratic jerking means even the experienced-looking Gnome is unable to land a blow on them.
Croaking, they run off in an attempt to flee deeper into the ruins, trying to reach their fellow beasts most likely. However, with a small snort, you jump forward from your position and cut them off. In truth, the kobolds had all but ignored you and seemed to focus solely on the adventurers - but you're okay with that.
The last two kobolds die a grisly death as your newly-acquired fire staff claims two more lives. And then, only you and the adventurers are left. The Gnome is quick to take charge, speaking with a thick, drawling accent.
"Alright, you know the drill. Virnjorn, Amani, loot whatever valuables you find from these savages around here. Sinon, check for traps and Tome-goddamnit, heal that wound of yours, you thick-headed Ljosalfar! And you-" he finally says, turning to you. "I would speak with you."
You can say that again, now that you've helped them out, you can't deny you're curious about whatever they're doing here. Holstering your staff onto your back with a crude sling you'd fashioned yourself with some faded and dirty strips of cloth, you watch as the small Gnome saunters up to you.
"Name's Castor, of the Praetorian caste. These here are my men, helping me on a… task assigned to us," the so-named Castor explained without truly telling you anything of worth. "Now, who might you be, stranger? Are you a treasure hunter, here to loot these ruins?"
Just as you open your mouth to respond, the Ljosalfar male cuts your eventual response. He looks pained, but his eyes are clear and they're fixed on you. He looks completely caught off guard.
"There's no need for that, I know this man! This is Reen, Cadoc Reen! What are you doing here in Mull-Rane? Are you with the Scholia Arcana?"
Blinking, you can only stare at the man in surprise. He… knows you? Or at least, the man whose skin you're wearing like a protective rug around you. Well, shit. So that's why he reacted the way he did when he got a good look at you.
'What am I supposed to do now?'
Seeing your lack of recognition, the wounded mage lets out a huffed laugh. "Oh, come one, I couldn't be that invisible, right? Just because I flunked out of the Scholia… Hello? We shared a class with Telemachus, remember? Raspy Telemachus? Ring any bells? No?"
"Sinon, take a damn healing potion, already!" Praetorian Castor grunts, eyeing the Alfar's bleeding wound with disapproval. However, you don't miss the way he looks at you surreptitiously, checking your reactions to the situation.
It's obvious you can't just keep silent, given that he knows you or at least the man that used to be here before you took over. Thing is, you hadn't expected to run into someone that was familiar with your host, this… Cadoc Reen. You've got to do something, and you've got to do it now.
[] Tell the truth. You've no idea how you got here and you sadly can't recognize him. After all, you are telling the truth… if only from a certain point of view and omitting key details.
[] Bluff your way through this. While risky, it might yield valuable information from the mage and help you to get a better picture of this Cadoc Reen.
[] Attack them! This man knows the identity of the man you're puppeteering around, it's too much of a risk for him - or the others, for that matter- to allow him to live!
Ciara gains 35 XP! 85/150 to Level 2.
Element of Ciara's crude wooden staff discovered: Fire.
Probably not my best work. The weekend turned to be quite hectic and I didn't have much time to work on the chapter. While it's a simple choice, the options might end up having a bit of a domino effect depending on how things play out.
[x] Tell the truth. You've no idea how you got here and you sadly can't recognize him. After all, you are telling the truth… if only from a certain point of view and omitting key details.
I'd vote for whatever would make them less inclined to ask more questions.
They don't seem to be affiliated with any official organisations... or at least not with Scholia Arcana. Hopefully if we convince tem we no longer have anything to do with it since we lost our memory, they'll leave it at that and we'll head to the direction opposite from where Kathryn's people must surely be looking for us.
[x] Tell the truth. You've no idea how you got here and you sadly can't recognize him. After all, you are telling the truth… if only from a certain point of view and omitting key details.
