Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening

[Breadman]

Your mind scrambles on what to do. What will these witches do to you? To the people you know? To everyone? Sweat starts to pour down your brow as you think of what you're dealing with. That's it! A deal. They have their needs and their wishes. Oh but doing their bidding would anger the gods, the witchhunters and who knows who else? They want a kingdom for their own ends now, but do they know how to govern? Do they know what needs to be done?

"You...you say you want your own kingdom. Your own lands." You start to mumble "What of the every day once you have it? You would need someone to do that. I...I can do that for you. The people trust me. They can be quieted for you." Your voice cracks in desperation. This gamble might work or it could be a delusion you tell yourself. "Consider it."

 

[Damian0358]

You hang on every word she utters, trying to think of something that could dissuade her from pushing her will upon them. After a moment, you realize something.

"W-what will you do when you secure all that then?! You, you speak of how Syrith wants the souls of witches, how do you know that she herself is not complicit in witchcraft's place in society??" you yelled, trying to find some doubt in her soul, "You can't claim for certain that you are the master of your fate, only destined to follow hers... for all you know, she could demand your deaths upon that kingdom's rise, to make it hers and hers only! S-should you not try to ascend beyond being her pawn?!"

For all he knew, what he just said could have the opposite effect, causing her to affirm her loyalty to Syrith, or even cause even greater chaos in a bid to becoming greater than her, but he couldn't risk not trying at this stage, if only to disrupt the witches within.

 

[Infab]

"...And what then?" you ask, after a moment of hesitation. "You would soon be at war with most of the other kingdoms around you, then foreign nations and empires. Everyone that sees you and your future kingdom as a threat. War and conquest without end, across this vast world... Much like in the legends and tales of ancient Zuklanar."

"...To be totally honest, I think there's a reason the gods don't directly intervene in mortal affairs, or even answer our prayers at times. Maybe they feel we're strong enough to do things ourselves, and would simply prefer to watch. Perhaps, they simply just... don't care for us, and feel they're above us and our problems. Maybe they even despise us, though... I don't know what we would have done to earn their ire. Regardless, the ones that do intervene... likely do so out of their own selfish desires. Craving power and control over mortal lives... or even death and destruction, wrought across the landscape."

Soon, however, you decide to change the topic. "You'll have those that push back against you in Enthaan... and I'm sure you'll do just as any other conqueror would do in response. Examples will be made, and lives ended. Some of your own are already eager for that, like that one pale woman named Corrinth that my friend and I encountered."

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

You stare at her, unsure how to answer. After what just happened, she could kill you for your response, but you must speak the thing that's nagging at you. "I understand survival, and I understand loyalty. Those are good traits to have, but..." you hesitate, wondering how this will come off "I saw you out there. I know many in your place would want power, to bend the world to your will. Are you sure just survival is enough?"

 

[K0mori]

"...And what then?" you ask, after a moment of hesitation. "You would soon be at war with most of the other kingdoms around you, then foreign nations and empires. Everyone that sees you and your future kingdom as a threat. War and conquest without end, across this vast world... Much like in the legends and tales of ancient Zuklanar."

"The whole world has been trying to stamp out the coven for centuries; we witches have already been fighting the 'eternal war,' and the most thought you probably ever put into it was a sigh of relief every time you heard about one of us being dragged out and killed by the hunters. And now that we're finally on the verge of turning the tables, now you want to cry about the violence?" the witch replies, angrily. "They can throw as many as they want at us, but Syrith will guide us through."

You stare at her, unsure how to answer. After what just happened, she could kill you for your response, but you must speak the thing that's nagging at you. "I understand survival, and I understand loyalty. Those are good traits to have, but..." you hesitate, wondering how this will come off "I saw you out there. I know many in your place would want power, to bend the world to your will. Are you sure just survival is enough?"

She shrugs and turns away, frustrated. "Who cares what others would do in my place?" she dismisses you. "I already told you; I don't want Enthaan, and the same goes for Turadal and the rest of the world. The bastards who sit on those thrones don't even have any real power for me to covet, anyway. You kneel to the King because he wears the crown, and because of a million little stupid obligations you owe to it. But if I want you to kneel, you don't even have a say in the matter."

Without a moment's delay, your legs give out from under you, and your knee hits the hard ground with enough force that you cry out - it will undoubtably leave a bruise. You look up to see the witch glance back disdainfully at you, sighing again as she releases you from the compulsion she forced on your limbs.

"But... happily for you, seeing you on the ground doesn't exactly bring me any joy, Eredov. You don't matter - it's a waste of magic. I'd much rather see your king fall under the coven's control because then we'd be protected by the same untouchable aura his damned crown gives off..."

You gingerly pick yourself back up off the ground and catch up again. You begin to realize that, although the witch occasionally comes to a stop to instruct the clerics to do their work on those injured by the coven's illusions, she's making steady progress towards the small keep in which Count Caspan is undoubtedly sheltering, since escape over the open plain is probably tantamount to suicide. If you continue to follow her, you'll undoubtedly witness a confrontation. But still, you feel it necessary to probe at her faulty logic in hopes that somehow, your words might lead her to reconsider.

"You'll have those that push back against you in Enthaan... and I'm sure you'll do just as any other conqueror would do in response. Examples will be made, and lives ended. Some of your own are already eager for that, like that one pale woman named Corrinth that my friend and I encountered."

"And?" she replies, flatly.

"Don't you realize that it'll be the same, even if the King bows to Lythrefang? You wouldn't be protected by the crown; you'd only end the crown's protection for the King!"

The witch doesn't reply immediately. Instead, she looks a bit crestfallen - you've made your point.

She lifts her hand and examines a small, pyramid-shaped object that you only just realize has been in her hand this entire time. It's doubtlessly an artifact of some kind. A gift from her dark god, maybe? You wonder if she's pondering the great task Syrith has given her and the uncertainty of its end destination. "Look... I know I can't stop you from doing this. I probably can't even dissuade you," you plead, "but you can't possibly believe that Syrith is going to have you turn the whole world upside down and then just let you walk away."

"...You're right," she says, to your surprise. "I don't believe that Syrith's plan for me ends with Turadal. But I also won't give up on following my own pursuits; you only see the ways my connection to the Eldest is hindering me, but the real truth is that they're only feasible in the first place because of that very connection. I'd still be a peasant right now if not for Syrith, and I trust in her design."

Her answer comes off as surprisingly bleak. Only moments ago she was reveling in the notion of freedom. You decide to try one last angle.

"...To be totally honest, I think there's a reason the gods don't directly intervene in mortal affairs, or even answer our prayers at times. Maybe they feel we're strong enough to do things ourselves, and would simply prefer to watch. Perhaps, they simply just... don't care for us, and feel they're above us and our problems. Maybe they even despise us, though... I don't know what we would have done to earn their ire."

"I can think of plenty of things."

Her interruption sends a chill down your spine. You need to focus on Syrith, and avoid setting her mind on the follies of man and mer.

"Regardless, the ones that do intervene... likely do so out of their own selfish desires. Craving power and control over mortal lives, or even death and destruction wrought across the landscape.

You - you speak of how Syrith wants the souls of witches. How do you know that she herself is not complicit in witchcraft's place in society??" you yell, trying to find some doubt in her soul. "For all you know, she could demand your death upon the new regime's rise, to make it hers and hers only! S-should you not try to ascend beyond being her pawn?!"

The words that just tumbled out of your mouth feel like a snare; you're certain you've said too much. This archfiend unleashed on the world by Syrith isn't going to contemplate betraying her patron god! What were you thinking!?

She merely snickers at you, and you realize she hadn't taken you seriously anyway. You wonder just how pale your face is right now. "...Imagine that," she says at first, and it's unclear whether she means the earlier implication that Syrith might want to betray her disciples and rule the world directly, or if she's considering the unthinkable and imagining herself deposing the Dark One. In someone so warped by the influence of dark magic, it dawns on you that both thoughts could be simultaneously amusing. "Well, so far, I just keep getting stronger. I guess we'll just see how everything plays out," she answers in a way which seems playful and disconnected from the moment. It only serves to make you wearier.

The door to the keep is nearby. You can't think of anything else to stall her and extend the conversation, and you realize your commitment to speaking with this unholy creature was out of a desolate hope that the coven itself could be reasoned with. As soon as she leaves you, you'll be as helpless as you were when you woke up to the chaos enveloping your city.

Your mind scrambles on what to do. What will these witches do to you? To the people you know? To everyone? Sweat starts to pour down your brow as you think of what you're dealing with. That's it! A deal. They have their needs and their wishes. They want a kingdom for their own ends now, but do they know how to govern? Do they know what needs to be done?

You realize that the restraint shown during their takeover of Enthaan is experimental - a fleeting gesture of a more optimistic future in that diseased brain of hers, and that if Count Caspan disappoints her, and drives the city to resist further, she could easily change course for the worse. You have to do something. "Before you speak to him," you say as you reach the doorway into the keep, "I want to make you an offer. If he rejects you, if he can't see reason, I beg you not to retaliate against us all. I don't agree with what you want, but we both agree that what you don't want is a bloodbath in Enthaan!"

The witch looks back at you tiredly. "So what are you offering?" she asks.

"The people trust me. They can be quieted for you." Your voice cracks in desperation. This gamble might work, or it could be a delusion you tell yourself. "Consider it."

She cocks her head slightly before smiling. "You'll do that for me?"

You nod.

"...You don't even know my name, do you?"

Your heart sinks into your stomach. This is stupid. You're stupid.

She holds out her hand. "Agranne of Ryggander - Terrorchild of the Lythrefang Coven," she introduces herself with a grin. "Since you're so intent on being my advisor for the night, what do you think we should do with Count... Caspan, is it? I have half a mind to just kill him and be done with it if I've got you waiting in the wings already."

Oh fuck.

1. Shake Her Hand - It's too late to walk away, now, but you don't have to leap off the cliff. After a handshake, you make your feelings known: "I think we should give him a chance," you reply hesitantly.

2. ...Count Eredov? - You're going to have a hard time explaining this to Sarial.

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

2

 

[Breadman]

2

 

[Damian0358]

1

 

[Infab]

1

 

[bat_hacker]

2