Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening

[K0mori]

3. Decline - You begin to suspect that Iona and Corrinth might have had a better opportunity in store for you. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I can do better," you explain, gently.

Lucyk, unsurprisingly, is mildly offended by your rejection. "That's too bad. I know it's not much money, but the church takes care of its flock," he says, adding a bit of condescension in reference to your being from a poor family. It strikes a nerve. No... No, it does not, you silently counter. It never did.

"If that were always true, I wouldn't have left Zuklanar. My brothers and sisters could definitely use the care of a loving congregation, but sadly, we're not all made in Gallanis' image, are we?" you reply, bleakly. The other bar patrons are silent for a moment, a mixture of uneasy feelings clouding the mood. But moments after the words leave your lips, you feel a chill - a pleasant one - run down your back. It feels good to speak the truth for once.

You look back and find Lucyk staring a bit intensely at you. "If others fail to meet your expectations of goodwill, let that be their failure, girl. Don't let that dark cynicism take root in you," he lectures.

You find yourself cracking an ugly smile, annoyed with his entitlement. First, he tried to sucker you into a job that barely paid, and now he has the cheek to suggest that it was a test of your spiritual fortitude, one which you were somehow failing by holding the pious sorts to their own standards, for once. They all speak of charity and goodwill, and then chastise you when you expect it, your conscience snarls.

This time, however, you hold your tongue and avoid saying anything poisonous.

"So..." Iona says, trying to break the tension, "Jakom is our town's farrier. If you're going to go speak to him, you'll find him at the south edge of town. He told me a few nights ago that he wanted someone to muck the stables out because he threw out his back. He's getting older; if you make a good impression, he might keep you around and teach you a valuable trade," she explains, emphasizing "good impression."

Corrinth snickers a bit at the idea of you having to shovel horseshit, knowing what sort of power you're keeping hidden.

1. Take Leave - You feel as if you've overstayed your welcome. You finish your drink, thank Iona for the tip, and depart the bar.

2. Apologize - You realize that Lucyk probably only meant well, and in your haste you insulted him. You don't want this to be the way you introduce yourself to Tashlaan.

3. Double Down - You can't get Lucyk's dumb, holier-than-thou face out of your head. You don't have to take that from a man who cuts grass for a living.

 

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[K0mori]

The vote is tied - DEALER'S CHOICE:

3. Double Down - You can't get Lucyk's dumb, holier-than-thou face out of your head. You don't have to take that from a man who cuts grass for a living.

You drum your fingers on the bar top in annoyance as you sip your drink, irritated that you've waited too long to reply to his earlier comment, now. An idea slips it's way into your head subtly, as if someone just passed you a note under the table.

"I'm sure Jakom and I will get along just fine, as long as he doesn't try to preach to me," you reply to Iona. You don't even look at Lucyk, you can tell from the way he stopped talking that he's looking at you. Everyone is.

"...Excuse me?" he finally asks, indignantly. He begins to lecture you again: "I offered to help you-"

"You offered to help yourself," you snap, shocking him into silence. "You see someone you think is desperate, and you offer them ten silver pieces for two days of work? By the time I'm done feeding myself, I'll be right back where I started! And then you have the nerve to talk to me about the virtues of keeping my mouth shut and staying humble? I did that all my life, my family did that all their lives, and all anyone ever did was take advantage of us."

Lucyk stammers. "I- I... I'm a good man," he fires back, flushing with righteous indignation at your accusations. "I've been around for a long time, and I've helped a lot of people. You can ask around town. But that's not the point, the point is-"

"The point is that the gods don't help people unless their people help people," you interrupt again. "And you weren't going to help me. You were going to take advantage of me. How much do you pay your friend who's out of town?" you demand.

"Five silver pieces a day," Lucyk says, looking to his friends for support.

But one of them speaks up in you defense to your surprise. "Lucyk... Come on now, you give him double that, don't you? Rythe wouldn't have any money to travel and see his folks if you kept him hand to mouth like that."

"That's right," Iona weighs in, reluctantly. "Rythe always comes here after work and swaps out gold for silver - gold that you paid him."

Watching the discomforting situation play out, of seeing Lucyk's drinking buddies turn on him in the midst of his lies and hypocrisy, fills you with a cold satisfaction that's more enjoyable than a warm bath. He sputters a while longer before throwing some coins on the bar top in disgust to pay his tab and storming halfway out of the room.

He turns back, however, and throws a few more copper pieces onto the floor at your feet. "Here's your 'help,' you ingrate," he shouts before leaving the room in a huff.

You step down off your stool and gather up the coins before turning back to Iona, who looks more than a little displeased with you. "Can I pay you for the drink?" you ask.

"No," she answers firmly. "You need to keep all you can. But I want to have a word with you in private once this place clears out for the day."

"Oh no!" Corrinth interjects sarcastically.

Iona shoots her a glare. "You too."

"Shit. Yeah, alright," Corrinth says.

---​

After the last few patrons finish their drinks and file out, you're left alone with the other two women. Corrinth locks the door behind them and then sits in a chair, propping her feet up on another chair nearby. You sit miserably at the bar and wait for either a lecture or an interrogation to begin.

"What the hell is going on?" Iona demands, her pleasant demeanor now a ghost of a memory. "Is she in the coven, or not?"

Corrinth makes an unintelligible noise while wobbling her hand in the air, as if to say "it's complicated."

Iona looks to you. "Are you?"

"No," you answer. "I don't pray to Syrith."

You can practically hear gears turning in Iona's head. "Well, at least that explains why you care about the common gods and the church. ...You know Gallanis isn't real, right!?"

Corrinth theatrically shrugs as if to say, "I tried to tell her!"

...is she just strong, then?" she finally asks.

"Yup," Corrinth replies, her lips punctuating the letter P. "...Agranne's pneuma is stronger than mine. So... Whatever it is she wants to be, whatever she wants to do, I'd let her. I couldn't stop her if I tried. You know, 'cause I did, and she almost killed me," she explains with a snicker. "And one more thing: Agranne is a hexblood, ma."

Iona huffs, clearly thinking that her daughter is joking. "That's not funny."

"Ma. She's a hexblood," Corrinth repeats.

Iona looks back to you, a look of pure, mortified shock washing over her. "But... You're friends now!? Is that it!?"

"Sorta," Corrinth replies, flippantly.

You say nothing.

Iona thinks carefully for a moment, pacing the room nervously. "If you aren't with Lythrefang, then what... What's the plan?"

1. Avoid Attention - You explain that you don't really care where you go from here, as long as you don't get wrapped up in anything dangerous or evil - like the coven.

2. Learn Witchcraft - You tell her that you're going to learn spellcraft from Corrinth so that you can more safely control your pneuma. You figure it's best to at least pretend you might join the coven later, so that Iona will relax.

3. Uncertainty - "I'm still trying to figure it out. Now doesn't feel like a good time to make plans," you reply. You think about reaffirming your intent to avoid the coven, but you can't deny that you enjoy the way they revere you.

 

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[K0mori]

2. Learn Witchcraft - You tell her that you're going to learn spellcraft from Corrinth so that you can more safely control your pneuma. You figure it's best to at least pretend you might join the coven later, so that Iona will relax.

"And now you're caught up," Corrinth says to her mother.

Iona nods. "Well, Agranne, I suppose I approve of Corrinth calling you friend, even if I'd rather she call you sister."

The remark catches you off guard. Is Iona not in the coven herself? You begin to realize that Corrinth never spoke of Iona as a fellow witch, when she told of her upbringing in Tashlaan. "Iona, are you not...?"

The woman shakes her head and gives a odd sort of serene smile. "I can't say that I've ever felt the sensation of dark magic at my fingertips, no; it's always been about my daughter. When she was still a child, I realized that she was awakening to dark magic when she started having these strange dreams... She started talking about a sister she didn't have. I had my suspicions, but I was too afraid to go to the clerics. I didn't think they would help her. I was afraid they would take her from me."

Corrinth, looking bored and a bit embarrassed to be talked about in this manner, nonetheless spoke a bit more quietly and respectfully than she had, up to this point: "...Agranne told me about her blood sister, Rigatte," she explains, sparing you a genuinely sympathetic glance, as if apologizing for sharing the detail. "She was a witch of Lythrefang, but she met the exact fate you spared me, ma."

Iona looks pained, but also unsurprised. "I'm sorry for your loss, Agranne. It's possible that you might be reunited someday, but that's a discussion for another time."

You nod, glad that Iona won't push that particular envelope right now. You instead encourage her to continue her story. "So, even with you keeping her secret safe, how did Corrinth actually get a wand to cast with?"

The barmaid smiles a bit mischievously. "I gave it to her," she explains. "The same implements that mages of light use for their work can be used for dark purposes. They say that when the ancient scholars discovered the principles of magic and began to teach them, the first witches made themselves known. Of course, they were excluded from the colleges by their jealous and mediocre peers, so they formed covens to carry on their spellcraft in secret. Syrith found the best of them, and made them Her chosen... And they became Lythrefang. Can you imagine? To be the mother of one so close to the divine?"

The room feels imperceptibly darker as Iona speaks the goddess's name. You choose to steer the conversation back to the practical and away from spiritual matters. "So you just... told someone you wanted to learn magic, and they sold it to you?" you reply, putting the pieces together.

Leaning back in her chair, Corrinth produces the wand and holds it up for a better look as her mother confirms your understanding with a nod. "She just gave it to me like it was a toy, one day, and told me it was a secret to everybody. I cast my first spells right here in this room, late at night, after all the drunks went home to sleep off their stupor."

"So, how did the coven know how to find you?" you ask.

Corrinth rolls her eyes, as if the answer should be obvious. "How do you think?"

1. Play Dumb - "I dunno," you quip, "I figured dressing like you're on your way to a funeral every day would tip someone off."

2. State the Obvious - "...Syrith told them," you say, beginning to grasp the web that ties you all together.

 

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[Damian0358]

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