kaillll
Judgment Upon You
I'm just going with the flow right now. This seems fun.
Didn't expect it to be a browser game tho, I thought it is some kind of game like the cultist simulator, but this is good.
-
For all readers and writers
After much ado, our new tagging system is here and being rolled out to the userbase. Read more here!
Didn't expect it to be a browser game tho, I thought it is some kind of game like the cultist simulator, but this is good.
BarnabusBarnabus
Something like spice and something like pine.
- Location
- A beach, limned in silver like the painted moon.
Ping me when you get to 70 in a stat - stat boost letters are wasted before then, they give less. With my specific job, I can actually send letters which boost two stats at once - so preferably, ping me when you get to 70 Watchful and 70 Persuasive.
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
Fallen London's a blast and I'll always recommend it. Have fun in London, delicious friend!
Seconding this, I can help out. My ID is thenew there too.
Though I can't send double stat letters, as I'm a Silverer, the designated "gets no respect or content" profession.
BarnabusBarnabus
Something like spice and something like pine.
- Location
- A beach, limned in silver like the painted moon.
L + Ratio, snake boy. (
)(I say this out of love, and as a man who plays Light Fingers - the Ambition equivalent thereof.)
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@thenew, I've been wondering something about Veils' ability to communicate with the Hornbeast. (Assuming it's not a hook for a future part of the Quest.)
Is it a byproduct of the Neath's/Parabola's "sapience-bestowing" effect on animals? Or is it something purely instinctual on the Hornbeast's part?
Is it a byproduct of the Neath's/Parabola's "sapience-bestowing" effect on animals? Or is it something purely instinctual on the Hornbeast's part?
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
I'm afraid that's something you'll have to find out!
Anyway... vote closed!
Turn 3 - Results
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
[X] Plan: Comestibles, Conversation, and Communion
-[X] Hunt something larger.
-[X] Have a simple chat.
-[X] Surrender the Stone of Kjeragandr.
-[X] Test its limits.
-[X] Hunt something larger.
-[X] Have a simple chat.
-[X] Surrender the Stone of Kjeragandr.
-[X] Test its limits.
Hunt something larger.
The air is biting cold, though your fur is doing its best to keep you insulated- the suit simply wasn't made for such tasks.
You cover yourself with one of the pelts and huff a hot breath onto your clawed fingertips. You miss your wardrobe- you recall a pair of black gloves that would sure come in handy right now.
A bit of adjustment a bit for the missing finger and it would be fine.
That said, you have experienced worse.
Though it was... remarkably different from what you are feeling now. You no longer have your wings. You cannot rise to the skies, screaming and laughing, nor can you swoop down to snatch your prey with the trivial ease you had before. Your claws are not as sharp as they were, and the thought of sharpening them on a rock, like you have done so many times, is... displeasing. If you would perfect their edge, it would be- it should be- in a better environment.
Your beast hesitates, and tries to trail behind you, unsure of what to do as you make your leave from the cabin. When you shush it, it becomes utterly silent, simply waiting as it you leave it behind.
You will need its energy for something else, later. And... it will not run away. You know it won't.
Now, for the hunt.
The animals are avoiding you, you suspect. But that will not be an issue, not all that much.
And so, you walk. You walk, and walk, and walk, catching hint of various trails as you do so- but none of them are to your liking. That one is too small. That one is too old, walking with lumbering, trembling steps. It is all skin and bone, and what meat is left will have a terrible taste. And this one...
Ah, this one is perfect.
Something flutters down to perch on a branch a few feet away from you. It is... a bird.
That sight is familiar, in the very least. It resembles a hawk, though some of the shape of its beak, and some of the bone structure is subtly different. It watches you with bright, beady eyes- and then, it loses interest and flies away.
Oh well.
You tap a rather peculiar mark left on a root with your cane. You are getting closer, now- you can feel it.
Ah yes. Those scars it left on the ground are almost faded, half-buried under the snow. But still here.
It's not quiet- here, it is never quiet.
You can always hear the rustling of leaves, the sound of small creatures moving in the brush and scurrying underneath, and the indistinct noises far off in the distance- far, far less indistinct to you then they would be to a human.
But it is a bit less noisy then you'd expect. It is as if the land is waiting. And below those weak, familiar sounds, you can hear something else.
[Irons check, Threshold 3]
[The Intriguer's combined score is 1 and it rolls 1D6 for the check.]
[Rolls: 6]
[1+3=7. Check pass!]
[The Intriguer's combined score is 1 and it rolls 1D6 for the check.]
[Rolls: 6]
[1+3=7. Check pass!]
It is here.
It is a long-legged creature, too furred and toothy to be a reindeer but carrying the exact same antlers. Has it been separated from its herd?
You stalk it freely through the brooding leaves and snow-covered roots. You feel sunlight touch your fur and clean air swell in your lungs. How long has it been, since you've been allowed to hunt so freely in the Surface? Your visits there were always shadowed, hurried. Knives in the dark, games to play and affairs to arrange.
That said, those "hunts" were utterly delightful by themselves.
Oh, how you are eager to return to those.
The creature makes an uncertain turn. It has indeed been separated from its companions. You guess so by its movements. It is looking for them. You cannot allow it to find them, but patience is key. Patience, and care. You must wait for the correct moment. No beast could be a match for you- it will be over soon.
One uneasy step of a hoofed limb is all it takes.
A moment of vulnerability- it has exposed its blindspot to you.
You plant your cane on the ground, and shed your suit like skin with one quick movement. It would not do well to damage it- not now. You hang it on a branch, delicately, alongside your bag of supplies- and go for the kill.
The creature spots you just as you allow yourself to become visible. It trembles. You have conveyed all the right feelings- and it makes a move to run. A fruitless effort.
It's fast.
You're faster.
A swipe of your claws tears through its throat. The ground is stained by blood. A stab with your hardy cane pokes out its eye, and it stumbles over its own legs as you smack the wooden stick into them.
It tries to react, attack- it is cornered, after all. You do not allow its antlers to touch you.
You wounded it, but the beast is not down yet. A downward strike to the skull makes it give off a whimper.
The dance continues for a few more seconds. It headbutts and sways and tries its damndest to impale you against a tree- those antlers are deceptively sharp, how interesting. It would have already rammed an inexperienced monster-hunter into the Boatman's clutches, but to even suggest this could happen to you is insulting.
You lunge, and your hand tears through its eyesocket. You feel the familiar sensation of brainmatter under your claws, and it goes limp.
Now, for the rest, you think, sparing a glance at your bag with your tools, still hanging from the tree.
You have gained an unexpected bounty- a Pair of Peculiarly-Sharp Antlers!
You have gained a Beastly Skeleton.
You have a gained a "Deer" Skull.
You have gained a Peculiar Animal Pelt!
You have gained three Supplies for Travel!
Have a simple chat.
After you come back from your hunt, bounty in hands, Harlan is nowhere to be seen.
The fire has been extinguished, the room is no longer warm. The wind infliltrates the building, taps the floorboards and rattles the tiles in the roof.
From the sounds, you think he is in the kitchen. The noise- metal on metal? Is he making something? The smell in the air- butter? It's faint, but it's there. How peculiar.
"...would you care for some tea?" he notes, as you walk into his kitchen.
The remains of the animal are already stored safely in your bedroom, close by the window. If anything happens, you can scurry away with them quite easily.
Harlan is staring intently at an aged, iron kettle with his sightless eyes. How does he obtain the wood for the fire, you wonder- he does not seem like someone who is in a state to cut down any trees. Does he collect twigs from the victinity? Even that seems like a dangerous exertion for someone as fragile and unstable as him.
Perhaps whatever species he belongs to has of a hardier constitution then humans. That sounds rather likely, in fact.
"I would- I would not mind some." you say.
It is a half-lie.
You were not always the sort that partook of tea, but nowadays it is all but necessary.
The people of the Fifth City cannot live without it. You recall the old days that came before the negotiations with the Empress- when you were still worming your way inside of the structure, positioning your networks, waiting for the Consort's fragile health to finally, finally break down, so you could make your offer.
You drank so much tea on those days. Pratically every meeting or social gathering you had to attend had you drink a gallon of the loathsome liquid- and those things were inevitable, not attending was insanity.
Eventually, either you started enjoying the taste, or you would have to disembowel someone. And as such, tea is an acquired taste for you at best, and something you were forced to drink against your will at worst.
To this day it is barely in the "acceptable" category to your tastes.
You had grown slightly fond of some other herbal concoctions back in the days of the Fourth- but the incessant Londoner obsession with tea ruined that, too.
Not enough demand to import from the Khanate in large volumes, and your attempts to snatch some for yourself were curtailed at every turn by blasted wretch Spices, who believed you were intruding on its territory.
You were never one to provide explanations for your actions, and you could not exactly back down and admit weakness, could you?
You could not. You simply wanted to drink something with actual taste for once, but then it had to turn into a trade war.
It was fun, obviously, but still.
Harlan comes with two cups of tea. What is this- it's buttered tea.
Where does he get the leaves? You don't recall seeing any of them around the forest during your little hunt. Perhaps from the same place as the coffee- his dwindling stock.
You look at him and tilt your head, an unspoken question in the air. Despite not being able to see you, he gets the meaning in the silence that comes afterward- and laughs. It is a scarred, hacked out sort of laughter, passed with a hiss through a damaged throat and squeeze with much pain from battered vocal chords.
"They're from my stock, back when I could walk back to the city. I'm almost running out, but I can spare a little for a guest." he says. "Like the coffee, really."
He sounds rather embarrassed.
"...has my hospitality been to your liking?" the wolf asks.
"It has." you answer.
It is true, at least. You are not the sort to complain about your sleeping quarters. Sure, you have lived in the lap of luxury before- and it is the place that fits you, to live in the comfort of civilization. But you- the complete, the original you- has also dwelled in the cold depths of the High Wilderness, in edifices of stone, in camps in the Hinterlands and in abandoned rooftops. You do not care either way.
"You're not a very talkative sort, hm." mumbles Harlan, before chuckling again. "Would you care for a warning, then?"
"...I would not."
"Manuever away from the Vine-Bear Court's affairs- if you still want to carry through any of your projects in this place. Deal with their games as little as possible. Their hold is getting weaker, you see. It should be difficult, but possible."
"The court, hm?"
"...you wouldn't know, would you?" he whispers, pensive. For a few seconds, he is lost in thought. "Do you know why I am here?"
"In this house, I suppose?"
He has already told you, no? It is because he is an Infected. Was there another reason? Has he offended someone in a higher place, perhaps? Did someone not wish for him to find that vein, or did they wish to use it for their own interests?
"No. Why am I alive?"
You pause.
Hm.
"That, I cannot answer."
"It's because of the Silverashes."
He seems resentful.
"They're all right proper bastards, of course. The lot of them always are. They've failed the goddess and they've failed Kjerag. But I'll have to admit those sorts are less... less so then the rest of their kin." he squeezes out another low laugh. "Sure, sure, I'm sure they came out of it far better then me. But at least they bothered with some sort of repayment for the help I gave them. I wouldn't be here without the medicine they gave me. Of course, it wasn't free of charge. I had just paid the price before."
The Silverashes, hm. The family pushing for modernization, who gave this old hunter before you the means to hold off his Oripathy.
"Cruel fate, cruel fate." he mumbles. "They're the only ones in this blasted place with the heart to go against the Court. If we went along with their wishes, I bet we'd still be walking everywhere- no railroads, no sir. And then they have the gall to reap the rewards from those anyway, without a blink. Bastards. They sure do love the trade, even if they'll never admit it."
So your host is a proponent of the modernization? Curious.
"You aren't Infected, so you can't know- but this is Hell. If it wasn't for them I'd be... I'd be dust in the wind, by now. Polluting everything in sight..."
He coughs, and takes a sip from a vial from his coat pocket, leaving it empty. It's... a painkiller, going by the familiar smell. Opioid? Definitely opioid. Not laudanum, though. The smell is fainter.
Interesting.
Well, you could poke him a little. There's a contradiction here, no?
As far as you know, exposure to "Originium" seems to be what leads one to become "Infected."
His discovery of a vein of the peculiarly whispering mineral led Harlan to become one. Afterwards, the Silverashes assumed control of the region and now own an Originium mine in that very same vein.
As such, aren't they causing more infections? Can't they be blamed for more people becoming "dust in the wind?"
It's not necessarily true. You might be missing something. The mine might treat its workers better then you think, there might be extensive safety measures and no risk of Infection- ppft, of course they don't.
But still...
Will you poke him a bit? Are you willing to?
[ ] Poke Harlan.
Question him a little. Why not?
[ ] Do not.
Better if you don't.
Surrender the Stone of Kjeragandr
It is perhaps a reckless action.
But... you feel it is not.
You believe this is the correct thing to do. That by itself, this stone will not give you much more- and you doubt you cannot find more of them. It is currency, after all- the trust, the promise embedded on it reveal it as currency. As a small token of faith upon an authority.
There are certainly more around. Why not let go of this tiny little fragment?
You find a fallen branch, and with it, you dig a hole into the ground. And between two snow-covered trees, you bury your stone.
The gesture in itself means nothing to the land of Kjerag, nor does it mean anything to the goddess Kjeragandr. What does it care about this little hole in the dirt? You are a foreigner, and you know nothing of it just as it knows nothing of you. But letting go of this treasure is difficult, as it is for all of your kind. Even if it is not of your hoard, forfeiting this stone still means something to you, and that in turn is a pledge.
You cover the stone with snow and dirt and chunks of rocks, and it disappears underneath.
The Stone of Kjeragandr is not in your hands, not anymore. But you feel as if you have learned something. There is a strange air in the wind. You are awash with a strange sort of nostalgia, and you feel as if someone held your hands- gently, tenderly-
You hiss, and throw them off.
They do not exist, and they do not feel your rejection. But that meant something, didn't it? You understand a bit more. How does Kjeragandr feel? How could one tell her off? You do not know.
But you are a bit closer to that knowledge.
You have gained two Mysteries of the Snow.
And then you pause.
You look at your hands. Where are your claws? Where is your fur? Those are not your hands. They are scarred. Marked by the teeth of zee-beasts. Burned by the thunder of dock-pipes. Here is the mark of a finger nearly bitten off by a spider-council. Here is the discolored vein where an insidious poison passed through.
Those are her hands. Those are human hands.
You are not as you once were.
You blink.
How... off-putting.
Test its limits.
The beast lays on the ground, fearful, exhausted.
It is strong. Strong enough to unearth a rotten tree, though not strong enough to crack the body of its hardier counterparts.
Perhaps its strength could be honed? Perhaps that gleam on its eyes, an unusual intelligence, could be nurtured. You do not recall the methods which could be used to amplify a creature's intelligence.
But... it isn't outside of the realm of possibility.
With the right chemical encouragement, those sorts of buried thoughts might be coaxed out. All you have to do is remember. Step by step, unlocking memory after memory until you can be complete. That... that is a possibility. And a good goal to persue. There is a lingering memory in your head, even, of that dream with Apples...
Yes. This is a good objective.
The beast looks at you.
You approach it, and touch the region where it shed its horn. There is already something growing in there- very faint, but noticeable to someone with senses like yours. It is... a peculiar structure. Horns shedded like antlers, but... the material is like not like an antler.
Wrong sort of cartilage.
How curious.
It is somewhat agile for an animal of its size, yes, but not as much as it could be. Certainly not to any reasonable standard. Less agile then a trained human, even. And slower then the deer-creature you saw earlier, certainly- much slower.
"SLEEP." you order, before turning around.
Disappointing results, indeed.
You have discovered the Throughly Cowed Hornbeast's stats.
Status:
Iron 1
Mirrors 1
Veils 0
Hearts 2
Wines 0
(Due to your Hornbeast's nonexistant intelligence, it cannot realize a significant amount of checks. Perhaps this could be rectified later?)
Iron 1
Mirrors 1
Veils 0
Hearts 2
Wines 0
(Due to your Hornbeast's nonexistant intelligence, it cannot realize a significant amount of checks. Perhaps this could be rectified later?)
Harlan is sitting by an extinguished fire as you return.
He is staring at it as if deep in thought. The sun is already setting, and it will be time for dinner soon. You slip through without alerting him, footsteps utterly silent- and step into the kitchen.
You place some of the meat from your sack into a cutting board, and begin to mince it.
The old you would have tried out some already, but the thought of eating untreated meat is just slightly displeasing. Not enough to hold you off, should you truly need it, but enough to make the experience not something you look forward to, even though you have done it many times before.
You look around through a nearly empty cabinet for salt- and here it is.
He does have quite a little bit of it. There's enough salt in this little bag to outlast the man itself, most likely, unless he is exceedingly generous with his usage of it.
You look out of the window, and think of times long past, as you cut through the meat with a dulled edge. Your tongue itches, and your sight feels... less focused.
You recall a memory that isn't yours...
(This is an opportunity to revisit a memory of your Hunter. It will grant you a chance to later regain an Advanced Skill.)
(You will not have an opportunity to dwell in those kinds of memories again for some time. They are not yours- with every second that passes, you grow more distant. From the you that was. From her.)
[ ] Full fathom five.
Teeth through your skin and claws through your flesh. The first zee-death is the most agonizing.
Down, down, down, down, down...
Down you go.
[ ] The streets of the Iron Republic
Write it down. Write it all down.
Perhaps you'll be rid of it.
[ ] A contradictory lesson
"Our lesson today, my children, concerns the–
–LEAVE THIS PLACE AND NEVER COME BACK!"
[ ] The crooning of the birds
The little urchin grins. She offers, with great ceremony, a bolt of startlingly-blue cloth.
"Welcome to the corsairs! And may death, when it comes, greet you like a long-lost friend."
I've been away from some time, sorry. Real world stuff. But I think I'll be able to salvage my schedule.
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
[X] The crooning of the birds
Prodding Harlan is, of course, not a particularly good idea in terms of our acquaintance with the man. But maybe he isn't that sensitive. And besides, knowledge is the most important ammunition, especially considering the fact that we will be crossing paths with the Silverashes later on, anyway, once we start stringing our web...well, unless we have to quickly leave Kjerag for elsewhere due to being pursued by authorities or unsavoury elements, I suppose...
The 4 advanced stat options are interesting. I presume they are MA, AotRS, SA, and Zeefaring respectively (Not sure on MA, but pretty sure on the other 3) (unless there's some other, non-Fallen-London advanced stat in store). I chose AotRS due to the sheer versatility and potential power of Red Science. And Zeefaring is just a good exploration and social skill ("sailors" are a wide and expansive category that covers many types of useful people, pawns and pieces alike) (we are also near the sea of Clariside and by extension the Iberian coast. While it's difficult to say if we will go through Victoria any time soon, we will likely do so eventually, with the whole country being ripe for intrigue and all). We are quite pass the point of needing MA, and while I have no objections against SA, our disguise is holding up fine and no-one is gonna murder us anytime soon, so why experimenting with our flesh directly and cause unnecesary damage.
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
[X] The crooning of the birds
Prodding Harlan is, of course, not a particularly good idea in terms of our acquaintance with the man. But maybe he isn't that sensitive. And besides, knowledge is the most important ammunition, especially considering the fact that we will be crossing paths with the Silverashes later on, anyway, once we start stringing our web...well, unless we have to quickly leave Kjerag for elsewhere due to being pursued by authorities or unsavoury elements, I suppose...
The 4 advanced stat options are interesting. I presume they are MA, AotRS, SA, and Zeefaring respectively (Not sure on MA, but pretty sure on the other 3) (unless there's some other, non-Fallen-London advanced stat in store). I chose AotRS due to the sheer versatility and potential power of Red Science. And Zeefaring is just a good exploration and social skill ("sailors" are a wide and expansive category that covers many types of useful people, pawns and pieces alike) (we are also near the sea of Clariside and by extension the Iberian coast. While it's difficult to say if we will go through Victoria any time soon, we will likely do so eventually, with the whole country being ripe for intrigue and all). We are quite pass the point of needing MA, and while I have no objections against SA, our disguise is holding up fine and no-one is gonna murder us anytime soon, so why experimenting with our flesh directly and cause unnecesary damage.
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Memories still operate under the three action limit?
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
Artisan of the Red Science is priority, we wanna get on Correspondence metaphysics ASAP.
Dunno how much mileage we will get out of Shapeling Arts without Amber, but it's best that we start getting on the grind early; Maybe we'll procure some once we venture into Parabola.
EDIT: Removed the plan name, too few options to really need it. Removed the SA option too.
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
Artisan of the Red Science is priority, we wanna get on Correspondence metaphysics ASAP.
Dunno how much mileage we will get out of Shapeling Arts without Amber, but it's best that we start getting on the grind early; Maybe we'll procure some once we venture into Parabola.
EDIT: Removed the plan name, too few options to really need it. Removed the SA option too.
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[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] The crooning of the birds
I agree that a plan isn't needed here. The options are disconnected enough to the point where it doesn't matter.
[X] The crooning of the birds
I agree that a plan isn't needed here. The options are disconnected enough to the point where it doesn't matter.
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
In this case, it's only one memory you'll be seeing, that being the one that gets most votes.
Ah, got it. Vote tweaked.
Our Toxin-Soaked Dream hasn't been properly accounted for in our inventory, by the way.
Really love how you've been writing Veils here; For all the "humanity" of the Intriguer aspect, it is still first and foremost an inhuman Curator. The concept of selfless love (or at least, concern and affection) is just so intrinsically repulsive to Veils' mindset that it doesn't even try to bask in the pleasant, tender feeling of Kjeragndr connecting with it.
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thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
Corrected, thank you.
BarnabusBarnabus
Something like spice and something like pine.
- Location
- A beach, limned in silver like the painted moon.
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] Full fathom five.
We can be two corpses in one drowned grave. You'll love it. (This is a shitty reference to something which is in and of itself a Halo reference.)
[X] Full fathom five.
We can be two corpses in one drowned grave. You'll love it. (This is a shitty reference to something which is in and of itself a Halo reference.)
Lurking_Badger
Cheese Enjoyer
- Location
- Wisconsin
[X] Poke Harlan.
I imagine Veils actually poking him repeatedly like an inquisitive child.
[X] The crooning of the birds
I find this funny because Veil has actually died and Death didn't even get him a get well soon card.
I imagine Veils actually poking him repeatedly like an inquisitive child.
[X] The crooning of the birds
I find this funny because Veil has actually died and Death didn't even get him a get well soon card.
Evonix
Aspiring Lovecraft antagonist.
- Location
- Canada to 2 sigmas
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] A contradictory lesson
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
I think the lessons of St. Stalactite have a particular relevance to Veils, the Intriguer's situation. Their teachings aren't only about physical change but also the spiritual aspects of metamorphosis, matters of identity, internal contradiction and personal change. This Veils is only a part after all, it may still have enough selfhood for a complete individual but that doesn't mean it is one yet. It is a face now covering nothing, grown for purposes that no longer apply. Growing into a self sufficient creature is a healing process and one so significant that it should be guided, this knowledge could be key to shaping rather than merely being shaped.
As for the Iron Republic it is cool
[X] A contradictory lesson
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
I think the lessons of St. Stalactite have a particular relevance to Veils, the Intriguer's situation. Their teachings aren't only about physical change but also the spiritual aspects of metamorphosis, matters of identity, internal contradiction and personal change. This Veils is only a part after all, it may still have enough selfhood for a complete individual but that doesn't mean it is one yet. It is a face now covering nothing, grown for purposes that no longer apply. Growing into a self sufficient creature is a healing process and one so significant that it should be guided, this knowledge could be key to shaping rather than merely being shaped.
As for the Iron Republic it is cool
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] Full fathom five.
[X] Full fathom five.
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] Poke Harlan.
[X] A contradictory lesson
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic
[X] A contradictory lesson
[X] The streets of the Iron Republic