Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening

[rpg.veteran]

2

 

[dikdik]

2

 

[turtwigwins]

2

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

2

 

[K0mori]

2. It's Not a Trick, Protect Them - You can't allow this infestation to spread to your wife and Dashal's children. You scramble back toward the door, slamming the bolt out of the way so you can steer yourself back to the street. Maybe there, you can remove most of them from your body by rolling on the stones...

Almost as quickly as you can throw the door out of the way, Dashal crashes j to you from behind and the two of you tumble into the street in a state of hysteria, hitting the hard stone pathway and rolling, trying to beat the spiders off of yourselves. As you do, you swear the brood is angrily nipping at you all over, and you worry you might be poisoned.

In the midst of all of this, you hear a woman screaming - "FIRE! GODS, FIRE!" - as if she were burning to death, and you momentarily escape your own delusion to see her running through the streets, waving her arms about in terror and batting at imaginary flames in her hair. Another voice calls out from an upper-floor window: "I'M SORRY, PLEASE STOP, I LOVE YOU! DON'T-" and you look up just in time to see a man grasp at the air in front of him as if he were expecting someone to be there, but instead, he finds no resistance as he tumbles through the air, landing awkwardly on the pavement below.

You finally begin to grasp what's really happening. The witches have been playing with your minds and emotions, giving you terrifying visions and stirring chaos through the city. You turn to Dashal, trying to get his attention, but he curses in fury as he takes out a knife. "THEY'RE UNDER MY SKIN!" He bellows as he jams the blade into his forearm, groaning as he twists and digs.

"Stop it Dashal, STOP IT!" you demand, shaking him. "LOOK AROUND YOU, MAN! It's phantasms - witchcraft! There were never any spiders, dammit!"

Dashal stops struggling and looks you in the eyes, panting and confused as if he had just awoken from a nightmare. All around, however, the city is still gripped with panic of all sorts, as some scream of fire or wild dogs chasing them, and others taking desperate measures to deal with the imagined threats to themselves or their loved ones, including starting real fires, as far as you can tell. A deep red glow flickers in the windows next door to Dashal's house, threatening to spread across to his home. With a pained grunt, he pulls the blade out of his arm and clutches the wound.

"Eredov... Is- Is that ...real?" he stammers through clenched teeth.

You stare for a moment, unsure yourself. Behind you, the poor man from across the way clutches a broken shoulder, whimpering "My son...! My son..." to himself.

"I don't know, Dashal," you admit. "We should do something anyway, shouldn't we?"

He hesitates. "...I don't want my kids out in the midst of this," he says.

A whistle catches both of your attentions as a figure leaps out of the same window the unfortunate stranger tumbled out of moments ago. She disappears into smoke, reappearing as a crow clutching a wand, gliding effortlessly down to your level before dissolving again into shadows.

From out of the cloud walks a pale woman in dark clothing - a changeling! Her silvery eyes and snakelike smile are full of vicious glee as she takes out her wand and brandishes it at you. "Well, well... Can't fool 'em all, can we?" she mocks. "The Terrorchild wants us to avoid killing, if we can... So my hands are tied, you see."

She raises her wand and shrugs as you sit perfectly still helplessly confused. You're relieved, however, that you're still drawinf breath.

The "Terrorchild" must be the one in control... That tabaxi you heard about. If she truly instructed her followers to show mercy, then maybe, maybe... it's not so dire, after all!

The changeling levels her wand at you again.

"But, unfortunately, so are yours! Heeheehee!"

Your body instantly tenses up completely, and you can't move, even an inch. Your jaw is clenched shut, painfully, and all you can do is sit and watch as the fire slowly spreads to the house where your wife is sheltering. Likewise, Dashal is groaning through his own teeth, knowing that if the flames are real, time is running out to save his family.

The Changeling dances about on her toes, twirling this way and that, snickering and laughing at the increasingly vivid bonfire behind her. At last, the door bursts open, and Sarial and three children come running out, coughing and wheezing on smoke as they do. Dashal's wife, Madilia, however, is nowhere to be seen. You know that she can't walk on her own anymore, and without help, she'll undoubtedly burn to death.

"Corrinth!" a commanding voice rings out angrily. "Stick to the plan!"

You can't turn your head to look, but the voice doesn't sound like a Tabaxi. It's not until the newcomer passes by you that you recognize the tall frame and silver hair of a drow. She holds a large and intimidating morning star, and her heavy cloak, hat, and scarf covers much of her face.

"Whaaat? It's not like I started the fire myself. I'm just enjoying the drama!" the changeling - Corrinth, apparently - replies.

The drow isn't having it. "Let go of them; we've got places to be. You kill any kids tonight and I swear to the Eldest I'll put another hole in you."

Corrinth sighs. "Fine," she says with a dramatic eye-roll. Lifting her spell, you see Dashal spring forward with a crazed shout, undoubtedly to rescue his wife, but the witches see only a man barreling toward them, and, all-too-predictably, the drow turns and floors the man with a front-hand strike to the chest so devastating that he comes clean out of his shoes, a trail of blood spattering the pavement next to him. "Oh ho ho, nice one!" Corrinth says with a snicker.

You can just make out the grin at the corner of the drow's mouth as she chuckles a response. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it? ...C'mon, let's go."

Your mind is reeling; you can't just leave Madilia to die, can you? It would be such a horrible way to go... and Dashal, gods willing he lives, would never forgive you.

1. Save Madilia - As soon as the witches leave the scene, you decide to plunge headlong into the burning house in hopes that you can rescue Dashal's helpless spouse before it's too late.

2. Help Dashal - He might never forgive you, but his children are close to losing both parents in a single night, and you won't allow him to bleed out in the street. You're going to lead him to the church and get him the healing he needs.

 

[Infab]

1

 

[turtwigwins]

2

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

1

 

[Breadman]

2

 

[rpg.veteran]

1

 

[bat_hacker]

1

 

[Damian0358]

1

 

[K0mori]

1. Save Madilia - As soon as the witches leave the scene, you decide to plunge headlong into the burning house in hopes that you can rescue Dashal's helpless spouse before it's too late.

As soon as you reach the doorway, a blast of hot air washes over you and gives you pause. Sarial calls out to you from behind, but you ignore her for the moment as you're driven by a heroic impulse - it isn't just that Dashal wouldn't forgive you if you stop here; you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you abandoned Madilia to this fate. You duck down, since smoke is collecting at head level, and push yourself forward one hasty step at a time.

You don't know the floorplan of Dashal's home very well, but as you listen, you hear an urgent thumping against a wall, and you move towards it. Your hands follow the wooden wall as you push on, your eyes stinging and watering from the smoke and heat until you nearly can't see at all, but at least you feel the indentation where the door is installed and you push through.

Madilia's room, thankfully, hasn't been engulfed in flames like the upper floor of the building, but the opening of the door creates a violent draft that brings the fire into the room against the ceiling. You drop to the floor and crawl in, and soon find yourself nearly face to face with Madilia.

Three years ago, the poor mother of three was struck by lightning, after which she was severely impaired in seemingly every way. Dashal had honored his vows to take care of her and was committed to raising their three children - two boys and one girl - to be strong and take care of each other. Despite the injury's effect on her mind, Madilia still appeared mostly as you remember her, and an overwhelming sense of pity and care washes over you. You grab her by the arm as she bats aimlessly in search of a door and pull her closer; she seems to relax at your effort as she knows she's being led, and soon you're pulling her on your hands and knees out the door and toward the exit of the house.

Moments later, you're lying on your side in the middle of the roadway as panicked people move about - some trying to help you and the woman you rescued, or her injured husband - but most are too frightened to act. You can barely breathe, and you feel as if you've been singed or burned in numerous places. You need a cleric, but with all the witches about, would they even be able to reach you?

Then, screaming.

Despite your eyes having nearly swollen shut, you crane your neck to get a better look at the source of the sudden change in the crowd, and you witness the coming of something otherworldly and evil. The crowd parts in the hellish red light of the burning houses in the row, giving way to a group of clerics, all walking and chatting together without a care in the world, as if they're on an evening stroll through the garden. Gliding above them on the air, a tabaxi...

That tabaxi.

Only now do you realize that the men at arms weren't speaking nonsense at all. Only now, as she guides the spiritual guardians of Enthaan as if they're mere dogs on leashes, when her followers are running amok, spreading chaos and fear unopposed, and only now, as you look into her orange eyes, like fiery coals burning beneath the hells in the void of her black fur, black clothing, and black as pitch aura of shadow do you realize: the day of the Dark One has come.

"Heal them," she instructs, and the clerics blissfully obey, setting to work using their spells to mend bodies which litter the ground around you - Dashal, the man with the broken shoulder, several others who were trampled in the disarray, and you. Your vision clears, and you see everyone more vividly rising and breathing freely thanks to the clerics' magic. Only then does Dashal let out a cry of shock, dismay, and elation.

Madilia is standing on her own.

Dashal can hardly contain himself, he takes her in his arms and weeps while she looks about in total bewilderment. "Wh-what... What happened?" she says.

"You have been healed, madam," one of the clerics replies, blankly.

"She's been gone for three years!" Dashal yells in the face of the indifferent healer. "Y-you could've helped her this whole time!?"

He shrugs. "When Vestria sends a bolt of lightning, who are we to unmake her work?" he answers. "Such an injury is rare and ominous. She must have angered the gods."

Dashal is dumbfounded, but you can't hold your tongue any longer as the cleric begins to walk away. "Y-you just mended her... Does it really take a devil to make you care for us!?"

Above you, the tabaxi's ear twitches. Your blood runs cold as she turns and faces you, gently gliding to the ground to give you her undivided attention. "...Who said they care now?" she asks with a predatory smirk that slowly disappears. A pointed observation follows: "They're just like their gods. Always so far away, aren't they? All except one."

She's toying with you, but there's a personal truth underpinning her words.

1. Be Careful - She expects a response, and if you give a poor one, you're certain that it'll end poorly for you. "...They say you're a manifestation of Syrith. Is it true?" you ask quietly. "...And what do you want with us?"

2. Be Brave - "If that one's handiwork is on display, then are we any better off?" you reply hotly, knowing that if this ascended with really is the avatar of Syrith, that you're disrespecting a goddess to her face. You don't care. "You righted one wrong, but what about all the death and destruction you've caused, just today? Are you so vain... that you expect us to get on our knees and pray for it to continue!?"

3. Be Inspired - You hesitate to answer. As loathsome as this creature is, you can tell she's more sincere than you'd otherwise expect. "Something made you the way that you are," you reply as inspiration strikes a strange chord in your imagination. "The gods should have stopped it, but they didn't."

 

[joshuadim]

3

 

[rpg.veteran]

1

 

[Infab]

2

 

[Breadman]

2

 

[turtwigwins]

1

 

[Damian0358]

2

 

[dikdik]

1

 

[bat_hacker]

1

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

2

 

[K0mori]

The vote is tied - DEALER'S CHOICE:

3. Be Inspired - You hesitate to answer. As loathsome as this creature is, you can tell she's more sincere than you'd otherwise expect. "Something made you the way that you are," you reply as inspiration strikes a strange chord in your imagination. "The gods should have stopped it, but they didn't."

For a moment, she looks at you differently, as if seeing you clearly for the first time. You realize what thread your mind is pulling at the moment you detect a sadness in her gaze that wasn't there before. She must have been innocent once, in a prior life... Otherwise, she wouldn't resent the absence of the gods - she would celebrate it.

"...And now we all have to live with it," she says a moment later, confirming your suspicions. You almost feel a tinge of pity for her before she gives a disturbingly sour, perhaps even fae-touched laugh to remind you that the witch you see before you has left that girl far behind. As soon as she stops, she detects your disapproval and chides you. "Oh, cheer up! Not only am I better off now than I would have been if Gallanis actually gave a shit about me, you know, if he's even real... but I'm not a heartless monster, alright? I can still be 'nice' when I'm in the mood. Plus," she adds with a sigh, "I'm only here for the night, and as best as I can help it, I intend to leave everyone alive."

"...But why?" you ask. "Why are you here? What's this all about?"

The witch sighs again, wistfully, setting herself down on the ground next to you. "I have work to do. If you're curious, come along."

Her smile makes your skin crawl. You look to Sarial, and find her standing far back, prepared to run away. "Eredov, please," she urges you, "let's just get out of her way, alright? We can just... sit inside and have a pot of broth and some bread with Dashal's lot." She glances to the witch for approval, as if hoping that she won't offend by offering to hide away in her own home.

Dashal cuts in, looking up from Madilia's shoulder with tears in his eyes as his children rush to embrace their mother. He points at the tabaxi and stammers helplessly over his words: "Before we go... Y-You brought her back, I- I don't know how to... It feels sacrilegious-"

"You're welcome," the witch replies, rolling her eyes as she begins to glide away, as if skating on her own shadow.

The look on Dashal's face is hard to describe, his gratitude battling shame on his brow. He meets your gaze and shrugs off the latter. "And thank you, Eredov. Thank you for saving Madilia. If we're invited to eat and warm up, c-can we please stay at your home, just until morning?" You nod, and Dashal practically bows in appreciation for every bit of silver lining the night has brought him before turning and leading his family away from their quickly faltering house. You know that he'll be struggling for a long time, but at least he won't be alone.

You then turn back to Sarial. "...I want to know the truth," you say, fully prepared for her to react poorly.

"From a witch!?" she snaps. "What makes you think she'll be honest? How do you she won't hurt you?"

You shake your head. "I can't. I can't be sure that anyone will be honest with us,' you say, motioning to Madilia as she shakily walks away with her family. "But I'm not going to hide and wait for someone else to make sense of the world for me." As Sarial continues to protest, you follow after the witch and her enthralled clerics. "Wait for me at home," you say to your wife, hoping that she won't need to wait long.

"Be safe," she urges you, and you give her hand a squeeze before she hurries away to join Dashal's family, frustrated with your stubbornness.

You take a deep breath and shake off your trepidation. If fire didn't stop you earlier, fear won't stop you now. As you near the witch, she turns and gives a smirk as if she's not surprised you decided to come. She decides to answer your earlier questions with one of her own. "So... 'Eredov,' do you ever feel like we're all just puppets of fate?"

You really don't like the fact that she knows your name from overhearing the others speak to you, but you try not to let it show as you mull the strange question over. "...Sometimes, yes," you answer honestly, "but it's usually people who're pulling the strings - nothing mystical."

"And what do you think guides them?"

You shake your head. "I don't know."

The witch's expression intensifies. "I think that most people are stuck in one of two worlds. There's the ones who have the ability to choose, and the ones who don't. When I was a child, there was no choice - just work, and struggle, and hunger. Now? I just take what I want."

"So you're part of the world that can choose, now," you remark, still unsure of what she means by any of it.

Her answer only confuses you further: "Honestly, I'm not even sure," she says with a shrug. "Think about how every girl that suddenly becomes a witch at some point in their young lives has to deal with the knowledge that Syrith wants their soul, and that the-world-that-chooses will send killers to their door to burn them if they're ever discovered. Does that sound like a life I'd have chosen for myself?"

"But you're different," you cautiously reason. "Those soldiers who faced you today told stories about what they saw. They said that you might even be the manifestation of Syrith herself-"

The witch cuts you off with a sharp laugh. "Ha! ...Not that far from the truth, actually. In a way, the whole coven is the Eldest's 'manifestation...' But the fact remains that I don't want Enthaan. What I need is its food, so I can feed my sisters, its money and treasures so I can redistribute it, its clerics for their healing magic, and its shelters from the cold. You asked me why I'm here, and what it's all for, and the answer is that I want to be free to choose my own life, and I want the same for my sisters. Enthaan will get us closer to that - to a kingdom where witchcraft is held in high regard!"

Dealer's Choice: Speak Freely - (Players: Respond in any way you feel is appropriate. Several will be selected and used as dialogue.)

 

[joshuadim]

"...and you won't bring any misery unto us?" you ask apprehensively, trying to rationalize that - perhaps - there can be good to come from all this. But a realization then comes that makes your eyes widen and clasp the sides of your head: "Oh gods... if you're here for supplies, what is to stop the realm from claiming we are willingly aiding you? What's to stop them from putting us to the sword!?"