Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening

[hardcore.munchkin]

1

 

[Infab]

1

 

[turtwigwins]

2

 

[bat_hacker]

1

 

[dikdik]

……………. Josh I’m sorry 1111111

 

[K0mori]

1. Scheme - You've had enough of playing nice. An idea crosses your mind that would make you feel better about everything that just happened. "Ika," you say, "...I want to rob Warrik's liquor cart, later tonight. You get the drinks, I get the money. What do you think?"

Ika's head lolls back and forth as you patiently wait for an answer. Eventually, she sits up, giggling in a blissful stupor. Goblins, unlike the other races, can never be too drunk. Humans, elves, and even dwarves know that one should never challenge a goblin to a drinking contest, as they can handle an amount of liquor that would kill any other mortal being, or else leave them so sickened that they would never want to drink again. As a result, it logically follows that goblins can reach a level of intoxication that no one else is capable of - so long as they can stay awake and avoid blacking out.

Thankfully, while Ika's stomach is filled to bloating with nothing but cheap rum, and it's absolutely unavoidable that she'll fall unconscious in the next few minutes, it hasn't hit her with its full brunt yet. She's still awake and, you assume, cognizant of what you just asked. Sure enough, she blinks a few times before looking up at you. "Yezzz..." she replies with a jagged grin. "More of thiz!" she declares, flapping her hand towards the empty bottle, batting it a few inches further away from herself. "Tonight, after I wakebackupIll..."

Her head hits the grassy ground and she begins snoring loudly. You wonder for a moment whether she'll even remember what you just said, or if it'll just be a blur to her. Before you can think about it much longer, she jolts and lets out a foul smelling burp, which your heightened tabaxi senses amplify even further. You retch as you back away, holding your nose.

You decide to let her sleep there. She obviously picked a shady spot on some soft grass before she ever started drinking just for this reason, and so you figure you'll see her again at the tavern once she wakes up. That means you're alone for the moment, and it begins to occur to you what you're planning to do. You're certain that whatever amount of cash is inside Warrik's cart is more than you've ever had at one time, and once it's in your hands, you'll be able to...

Wait. I work tomorrow. I'll have to wait until Jakom gives me another rest day, and if I come with a large sum of money, then the merchants will know something's amiss.

As you walk away from the market, glancing at the numerous curiosities that you wish you could examine and purchase right now, it dawns on you that your desire to rob Warrik isn't faded by the complications you've just now considered - indeed, you want to rob him because it's actually more important that he loses something than it is for you to have it at all. You know that the dark, inner self is grinning at you right now, and that it doesn't bother you for once.

---
​

After a day of not much happening at all inside the tavern (aside from the suspicious news of two people fleeing the town in a fit of hysteria), the sun sets, and people begin to return to their houses or retire to the inn. Ironically, it occurs to you that the traveling merchants - Warrik included - must be sleeping in rooms similar to your own. You may very well share a wall with the man you intend to rob.

You inform Iona that Ika got too drunk to continue with your lessons tonight, and that you won't be by again until morrow. With that sorted, you head to the market square and find the goblin still sleeping on the grass, and Warrik's cart exactly where it stood in the afternoon. You had already surmised that when the merchant was prepared to leave and restock his supply, he would bring a horse from Jakom's stables and hitch up the cart for the journey. While the cart sat there unattended by its owner, a town watchman lazily makes his rounds, shining the light of a torch here and there to ward off crime... Although with so much ground to cover, he's not a very convincing deterrent. You think you can avoid him.

You rouse Ika from her sleep to find her still somewhat drunk, but otherwise bubbly and cheerful to a degree you've never seen.

"You came back for me, Agranne?" she asks as you help her to her wobbly feet. "That was nice of you... I'm zorry I zpent all your money," she adds, ashamedly.

You crack an ironic smile. "We made plans, remember?" you ask quietly, and after a moment, it seems to hit Ika and her eyes go wide.

"That... That actually happened? You actually zaid that?" she sputters. "Oh, hohohoho!" she giggles, putting her hands together. "Thiz'll be fun, Agranne. Corrinth never letz me get into the liquor cart, zhe zaiz it would be too obviouz if I did... But you don't care if Warrik knowz, do you?"

You shake your head and flash a grin. "The whole point is that he'll know."

"Good!" Ika declares as you help her to her feet. "I'll make zure the guard keepz hiz diztance, and you do the rezt."

You nod as the two of you move toward the cart. The village streets are nearly empty, now, and aside from the sound of wind in distant trees and the chatter of birds and cawing of crows, your footsteps are by far the loudest noise about. Ika gives you a knowing look as she takes out her wand and, with a flick of her wrist, a puff of shadow, and the sudden smell of brimstone, a mote of fire seems to rocket from the end of her wand and over the nearest buildings before landing on the distant, dry, tarred rooftop of some building at the edge of town. She buries the wand back into her beltline, and you both listen, rapt, until you hear a cry and a commotion. Although you can't see the situation unfolding, you know that the residents of that house will be scrambling to get water onto the roof and put the fire out.

You turn to Ika, alarmed, but she leers back at you with careless amusement. "Enchanted fire; it'll burn itzelf out," she assures you. You shake your head in annoyance that she didn't warn you first, but soon, you appreciate her choice as you witness the town watchman go sprinting by the end of the path, wholly distracted by the panic unfolding. You give Ika a nod, and she runs to the crossroads where the guard disappeared so that she can watch around the corner while you work.

You're alone with the cart. A smile creeps across your face as you feel a sense of freedom, and power in what you're about to do, but also a vague notion of justice. It's time to stop letting people get away with walking all over you. You feel your magic surge forth, eager to do your bidding as you circle around to the strongbox and place your fingers on the lock. You envision it as more than that - you see a symbol of everything which separates you from a life of dignity, keeping the paupers out and life's luxuries within. You hate this lock.

And now, you will destroy it.

With all the power of your magical strike focused upon the mechanism, you're no longer surprised at reality bending to your whim. The whole cart lurches forward against the chocks blocking its wheels as metal groans beneath your hand, until, with a bang, the lock explodes through the casing and into the interior of the strongbox, showering the coin within with fragments of metal. You eagerly pull the door open and see a loose pile of gold, silver, and copper coins in a jumble, and you grab a sizable handful of the money. It feels wonderful.

This is yours. Anything can be yours if you want it.

Your excitement building, you shovel several handfuls into a small leather sack you brought along for the occasion. You then twist the leather as tightly as you can around the coins to prevent them from jangling as you move, and tie it to your belt. Without wasting another moment, you turn to the cabinets on the side of the cart and draw forth another punishing strike. This time, the wooden exterior of the cabinet implodes into the interior, shattering glass and causing a deluge of the wine within. Although you're annoyed at the waste, you can't help but appreciate the release - the feeling of impunity that comes with using your powers.

On the other side of the cart, you try to be more gentle, focusing your palms against the locking latch but standing at an angle, so that the strike won't simply crush the bottles within like it did before. You again draw from yourself, and find a mad grin plastered on your face as the cabinet door breaks open. Another few bottles within shatter from the impact, but many survive; you grab the most expensive-looking bottles you can find, one in each hand, and signal for Ika's attention with a whistle. She checks around the corner one final time, grinning as the fire she set begins to die, seemingly from the efforts of those who responded, before trotting over to join you at the market. You hand off the bottles to her, and she motions for you to follow as you sprint away from the market square.

Around a corner, down a path, around another, and you reach it: Ika's hovel. The two of you practically tumble through the door, giggling with glee at your little escapade. With the tip of her wand, Ika lights a candle, and the two of you sit to admire your handiwork. You know that in the morning, you'll head to the woods to find a space to bury your coin, whereas Ika very well might drink all of the rare liquor tonight and simply break the bottles when she's done, or throw them in the river. It seems so easy.

Then, the door opens behind you.

You almost kill the intruder by reflex alone, when you catch sight of her face and are forced to stop yourself from screaming.

It's you.

"C-Corrinth," you force out, your words feeling like stones rolling down a hill away from you. She's still wearing your face, but the grin she bears is her own.

"You seem like you're having fun," she speaks in your voice, and all at once the sinister glee which captivated you when you emptied the dwarf's coffer evaporates from your spirit. As she closes the door behind herself, you can see from the look in her eyes - your eyes - that the rumors you've heard are true. She's been killing people while wearing your skin.

...You are not this. You are not made of whatever Corrinth is made of.

And then, with a sigh, she seems to relax triumphantly and shed the color and the texture of your skin and fur, the shape of your nose and your ears. She reverts, first into the ordinary human appearance you were familiar with before her departure. She laughs a bit at your terrorized expression before stooping to examine your quarry. "Well done," she says in her own voice. "I just flew in from Zuklanar; the job is done, Agranne. You'll hear tomorrow morning that they killed you, not far from where you grew up. I just happened to land riiiight about the time Ika set that fire," she explains, glancing over to your partner in crime, who you only now realize is deeply frightened, herself.

"I saw the whole thing; you're still so raw, but incredible," Corrinth extolls. "Is tonight the night, then? Can I finally call you my sister?"

The dark self inside grins again.

A1. No - "No."

A2. Stall - "Not yet," you reply, breathlessly. "I- I'm not ready."

B3. Conspire - "I- I think so," you suddenly find the courage to say, if only because you have decided, here and now, that you will kill Corrinth when she least expects it, and escape from whatever plans she's making for your future. You will never become like her.

B4. Embrace - Looking back on what you've done, and how you've enjoyed it, you realize that you aren't immune to the effects of dark magic on the soul. Your old life is gone, and while it's true that you are not Corrinth, you may genuinely enjoy walking in her shadow yet. You nod, slowly.

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

B4

 

[Infab]

B3

 

[joshuadim]

A1

 

[asphodelus]

A2

 

[dikdik]

A2 I must redeem myself

 

[bat_hacker]

B4

let's witching

 

[Breadman]

B4

 

[Damian0358]

A1

 

[turtwigwins]

B4

 

[K0mori]

B4. Embrace - Looking back on what you've done, and how you've enjoyed it, you realize that you aren't immune to the effects of dark magic on the soul. Your old life is gone, and while it's true that you are not Corrinth, you may genuinely enjoy walking in her shadow yet. You nod, slowly.

She gives you a vicious smile. "...Glad to hear it," she says, darkly, but otherwise doesn't react as strongly as you might have expected. You assume it's because it isn't going to be enough to simply say you'll join. You're going to have to speak to Syrith before you'll be accepted into the coven.

You glance uneasily over at Ika. "It'll be okay," she says halfheartedly.

While the assurance rings a bit hollow, you notice you aren't as frightened of the prospect as you were the first time the idea was broached with you. Each night, you've gained more control over your pneuma, but each round of practice has allowed the evil influence to settle further into you - numbing you to its presence, caressing your mind, whispering notions into your imagination... It's a wonder you even intervened when Ika tried to foster Lachlaen's ill-temper, as to that point, you had been enjoying his tantrum and hoping to see more come of it... You feel so strange.

Your internal contradictions will eventually resolve themselves, you figure. It's only a matter of time before the darkness smothers the light.

"I know," you grimly reply.

Corrinth gives the sack of coin a pat to get your attention. "You'll need to hide that somewhere in the woods," she says. "Go now; I'll stay here with Ika and catch up with what I've missed. When you get back, you can tell me about the Eldest."

You recognize that this is a final test. Corrinth will probably recognize if you're not being honest, based on her own experiences. That is, if she doesn't spy on you outright while you're out there. But you also feel nothing about it - this time, you'll cooperate, and introduce yourself to this goddess who covets your soul so dearly. You feel as if you're beckoned towards this meeting from within, and you are so, so tired of resisting it.

---​

The woods outside Tashlaan harbor a chill as you carefully cross over the gnarled roots of trees and uneven ground. You've searched a while for a landmark, something which could help you find your cache later, when the opportunity arises. Now, you believe you've found it: a large, rotten tree trunk points toward the jagged stump where an ancient oak once stood proud. You stand at the midway point between the two halves of the old giant, and kneel. You then carve away at the soft ground until a shallow hole forms, and dump the leather bag into it before sweeping the dirt and leaves back over top of it.

Rain begins to drizzle, falling on the wide brim of your hat and dripping down from the edges. Rising to your feet, you slowly take in your dark surroundings, the black, shadowy pillars of the trees, the gray light of the overcast moon, and the mysterious, muffled sounds of raindrops and wind against leaves and soggy ground. You're somehow certain that not even the crows have followed you here. You are alone in the wide world, and yet, this place feels intimate and private. Your words won't echo here. They'll barely escape your lips.

1. From the Heart - "...What did Rigatte say to you, when she spoke to you for the first time?" you question the darkened world around you. You're surprised with yourself; the question sprang up as if from nowhere. "I didn't want her to die. I just wanted her back," you continue. "I still do... I think she's all I have left of my family, now."

2. From the Mind - "Am I supposed to trust you, Syrith?" you ask aloud. "I don't think I can. But there's a part of me that already does, and I think that part of me is all that'll be left, soon." You feel bitter, and you eagerly expect the promised answer. But when none arrives, you lay into the goddess. "What am I supposed to feel right now!?" you demand.

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[Infab]

2

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

1

 

[turtwigwins]

1

 

[asphodelus]

1

 

[Damian0358]

2 (And if you see Syrith, tell her I said f-)

 

[dikdik]

1

 

[bat_hacker]

1

 

[Breadman]

2