So I just finished playing a certain game, which will be revealed at the end. Some small scraps of this could be used in a straight Worm fic too. No where near what I consider passable, but I need to get the idea out.
Eyes to See You With
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After the first of the Light Gods had fallen to the last, or as the folk put it, 'The devil damned the devil,' the powers granted to those in desperate need had become wild, and dangerous to everyone. Those few stable users had pooled their resources to find a way to stop these tragedies.
Years later the curses stopped on their own. But, with the onset of the terrible plague, that technology was once again pursued. It was completed by Blueprint, who was known far and wide for his genius, and all lesser tinkers vied for his favour even as they were forced to create his designs. Such things were not my concern, I used their tools, and I protected the Tinkers when ordered, that was all.
But, now everywhere in the low quarters there were strange music boxes, the tinkers said the sound was a side effect of the etheric pulses, disrupting the reaching whales, demons, from making contact with the sick and dying. No fair minded noble thought it fair or good, but there had been triggers by people who already had their minds rotted by the plague. It had not been nearly as bad as a wild trigger, but I had been called in to put the poor bastard down.
It was said that there were still triggers edging through. It was said that, believing they could beat Blueprint's devices the poor folk had resorted to trying to ease the way for the devils with strange rituals and prayers.
The music was simple enough to tune out, but it was said that it would drive a newly triggered mad as the demons continued to fight and broke a man's mind from the inside.
Everyone prayed for the Wardens, and the last two Gods of Light, to come again, this technology they would offer up as tribute and in return they would be saved and moved from this dying world. That was their only hope now, it seemed, for his quest for a cure had come to naught.
That had not broken my spirit though. Nor did my lady's death (Oh my love!). But when so accused, when the guards believed that accusation I was blacking out before the pommel hit my temple.
The music was screaming.
I woke up in prison, memories of the final battle churning in my mind. I had seen the face of the first god, the golden man, and the last god.
Months later, after horror, after torture, I saw her again, in the flesh. Perhaps the music was finally getting to me.
"I'm not, actually." She folded her arms. "I'm not flesh, and I am not her. Just an echo of a memory. With the last of this world's whales dead their remains needed a direction. I'm no Leviathan, but I can keep them from killing you humans." She nodded once, slow and measure, "I can keep them from killing you. I can push your trigger event through, allow you access to your powers. It might take a while to settle, though."
"And make a deal with the arch devil herself?"
"Your kind already reaps the rewards of such contracts. Blueprint is a parahuman. In fact, if you hadn't restricted the trigger events in the low city it's possible the plague might have already been made treatable by a Tinker. So, what do you say?"
"Why?"
"The person I never was, she hated bullies, and her powers let her escape, too."
"What will I owe you for this? You don't do this, otherwise as you said, the plague would have been treated by a low born Tinker by now."
"Nothing, they are your powers. This is my choice, because you remind me of her."
"Then I accept."
"Then receive my mark." My hand burned, a beetle, full spread, and ringed in gold was branded onto my left hand. "I hope to see interesting things from you, Corvo Attano. Interesting things indeed."
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Dishonored crossover, obviously
