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

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[dikdik]

2

 

[turtwigwins]

1

 

[K0mori]

The vote is tied - DEALER'S CHOICE:

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

You take Agranne's offered hand and bow your head, sheepishly. You're unable to think of a good response to her proposal that wouldn't risk putting you and your loved ones at risk of the coven's deadly retribution, should Count Caspan prove to be a fool. You've never even met the man, really; you suddenly realize that you've shared more thoughts with this witch tonight than you have the lord of your city across a lifetime. You do know, however, that if he were truly a leader, he would have sought to parlay with the witches at the gate, and not hole himself up in the keep while his city suffers waking nightmares.

But what will happen to you if you're forced to take his place?

If you betray Count Caspan, many will doubtlessly see it as a betrayal of Enthaan. If the Terrorchild's plot to overthrow the existing order in Turadal fails to come true, the people will undoubtedly seek retribution against you.

"...If I agree to help you," you finally say as you release her hand, "then the city cannot know of our agreement. Kill him tonight, if that's what you're going to do, but don't seek me until tomorrow, and let them believe it was a spontaneous decision. Please."

She smiles, but the look in her eyes hollows you out from the inside. This decision will haunt you for the rest of your life.

---
​

You walk through the cold, stony halls of Enthaan Keep in silence, passing one armed guard after another who cower in horror at visions that attack them within their mind. They don't see you, nor would you want them to. The witch has driven them to childlike tears, and reduced armed and armored men and women to blubbering, pathetic masses, although you aren't sure they're the only ones trapped in a nightmare. She told you to follow, and you know there's no disobeying her, now. Your legs carry you up the stairs, your dirty boots tracking grime on the nice rug which runs the length of their steps, until you reach the upper landing. Through a pair of wide-open double doors, you reach the Count's chambers; his wife and children are nowhere to be seen.

There is only you, Caspan, and the Terrorchild.

Her magic is pinning him against the wall, his arms and legs spread wide apart as he strains in apparent agony. You ask her why you must see this, and she scoffs at your weakness. "You can lead this city to believe any lie you want," she says, "but you've thrown in your lot with me and with Syrith, and you won't wash your hands of either of us."

"Then make it quick!" you demand. "Don't torture the bastard!"

She gives a sharp, fae-touched laugh at your brazenness. "No."

"Then what do you want from me!?"

"I want you to remember this!" Agranne roars, her faux-friendly demeanor vanishing before your eyes. "I want you to see this, any time you let the poor go hungry!" With a shadowy swipe through the air, her telekinesis rips one of Caspan's arms out of its socket. His screams turn your legs to jelly, and you fall back to the floor. "...Any time you let the church take, and take, and take without giving back!" The other arm is torn from the shoulder, flopping across the room in a bloody display. "I want you to feel this disgust when you know that girls - not women, but girls - have been BURNED ALIVE FOR MAGIC THEY CAN'T DENY!"

You cover your face with your hands as you recoil, knowing that Caspan's final shriek denoted the separation of his legs from his torso. "STOP!" you scream yourself, even though it's far too late and you know it. "STOP IT!"

"You. You stop it," Agranne answers, her breathing unsteady. You force yourself to look at her, and find her with tears rolling down her cheeks. "...Make the world better. You said something made me the way that I am, and that the gods should have stopped it. They won't stop it; they never will. You have to stop it."

You nod, utterly overwhelmed, until she turns and waves you away, disappearing into a puff of smoke. Your legs can hardly carry you fast enough as you bound your way back down the keep, two steps at a time, and back toward your home, knowing that when morning comes that Agranne will come for you again and "request" your aid in restoring order to Enthaan. You wish you would simply awaken again in your bed at the tolling of the city's bells so that you could try to find a different way. But there isn't another way.... You will become the first lord to pledge fealty to Syrith's worldly kingdom.

---
​

"You alright, elder zizter?" Wag asks as she spots you descending from the air outside the keep, your catharsis leaving you emotionally spent.

"...I'm fine," you reply, rubbing your sore eyes. "Where's Embryx? Do you know where the other pact sisters are?"

Wag shakes her head, her large goblin ears flopping this way and that. "No idea! But the city market iz where mozt of our pact iz zetting up camp for the night, zo maybe zhe'z there?" she suggest.

You nod your head. "Worth a shot," you reply tiredly. You glide through the now-empty streets as the people have returned to their homes, their lives gripped by fear and anguish at your arrival. You don't feel satisfied with your work; in fact, it feels as empty as the city itself. From the moment Eredov recognized that something terrible had happened to you in your adolescence, you were off-balance, seeking to scratch at that long dormant itch - that maddening need for vengeance that never seems satisfied. Your invitation to allow him a chance to lead, instead of working to convince Caspan, would doubtlessly hinder your plans as other city leaders won't believe you can be reasoned with.

Maybe you chose Eridov on a fae impulse, and it wasn't your right mind which brought him to the count's chamber at the top of the keep. It doesn't really matter; all that matters now is cleaning up after yourself and continuing on the road. As much as you tried to leave an impression in him that would never leave, you wonder how successful he would be at doing the same to you, but in far simpler terms. Will Syrith ever allow you to rest? Or will your life become an increasingly monstrous response to your long-since repaid traumas?

You've been up for a while; it's been a very long day, and the camp fires set up in the market square lull you into a mood to rest, perhaps without finding a special place for you and the pact sisters to commandeer for the night. Instead, you locate a good spot next to the fire and lay yourself down on a bundle of canvas nearby. The Pandemonium Door grants you unlimited magic, and it's easy to delude yourself into thinking it's unlimited energy, when it isn't. You need this rest. It needs to be good rest. You just hope you'll awaken to Embryx at your side.

1. Think of Ryggander - As you lay there, looking up at the stars and growing ever more still by the warmth of the fire, you think back to your childhood and wonder how things have changed since you left. You wonder about Rigatte, and what she might think of what you've done tonight.

2. Think of Tashlaan - The crackling of the flames in your ear reminds you of the fireplace in Iona's tavern, and you think about all the things you've done since you caused the uproar there, two years ago. Wag's accent reminds you a lot of Ika's, and you wonder if your dreams might lead you to see her again.

3. Think of Mardenaal - You wonder how the news of your conquest will find Diala's old circle. Technically, it's your circle now, but you hardly know them... You wish you would have the chance to explore the old city some more, and perhaps find ways to be charitable like Diala was - a horrible woman, but charitable nonetheless.

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

2

 

[Infab]

1

 

[Breadman]

3

 

[turtwigwins]

1

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[Damian0358]

2

 

[bat_hacker]

2

 

[rpg.veteran]

1

 

[K0mori]

Option 1: 4 Votes (50% - Range: 1-50)
Option 2: 3 Votes (38% - Range: 51-88)
Option 3: 1 Vote (13% - Range: 89-100)
Fae Roll: 44

1. Think of Ryggander - As you lay there, looking up at the stars and growing ever more still by the warmth of the fire, you think back to your childhood and wonder how things have changed since you left. You wonder about Rigatte, and what she might think of what you've done tonight.

As the moments pass by, and the more you try to compare yourself and your life to who you were before and what sorts of things you've experienced, your self-assessment sours even further. What you did to that nobleman wasn't just cruel, it was monstrous, but the worst part is that it isn't an anomaly - what you did to Count Caspan was hardly any worse than the horrific deaths you brought down on his soldiers, or gave explicit permission to your followers to inflict. In the two years since you last spoke to Rigatte, you've changed so much that you aren't sure if she would even recognize you.

You imagine the news of each new low you've sunk to being carried back to Zuklanar, across that dreary landscape west of the river Turus. You imagine your old home in a dusty, barren field... Your family would have abandoned the place by now, knowing that the shame of raising the Terrorchild would prevent them from having any meaningful relationship with their neighbors. They're probably somewhere far away from any place they think you'd look for them, far enough away that they could use their names without fearing anyone would identify them as your kin. You figure they wouldn't need to travel exceptionally far, although finding a church that doesn't make the connection will be nearly impossible.

The church... Would they even try to attend, anymore?

You shudder; they still went, even after Rigatte was burned.

You still went.

You turn over and away from the fire, as if to hide yourself and your deep shame over the entire situation. You suddenly realize how, underneath it all, much of your rage is motivated against yourself - or rather - the person you were before you awakened to dark magic. The violence, chaos, and vengeance have been an unending crusade to erase the past, but there will always be roots anchoring you to the faults you can't forgive, and all the mistakes that can't be unmade.

A long dormant voice of innocence rings in your ears - one you haven't listened to since your time in Tashlaan: there are ways to give voice to your hurt other than hurting others.

You feel sick. Every moment that passes makes a long day even longer, but you can't sleep. You need someone's company, someone you can say anything to without fear.

---
​

"...No, why?" Corrinth asks with a sarcastic smile.

You aren't having it. "I need to talk to her, and then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired as hell, and it's cold and windy, Corrinth. Just tell me what you know so we can get some rest."

"Last I saw her was about half an hour ago," the changeling says. "Embryx wouldn't get off my tail the whole time we were trying to hex the city; she didn't want me having too much fun. As soon as things started to die down and a few campfires went up, I think she went to look for you in the temple."

You give her a look, and she shrugs.

"We made our last camp in a temple... It made sense to me."

You sigh. With your mind on those past misadventures in Ryggander and Tashlaan, you aren't in much of a mood to see the inside of another place of light worship. Regardless, you make a note to search for her there as you prepare to leave. "...Alright. You should try to rest up a little yourself," you suggest. "I've already bumped into Stalna and she said that there's another army coming, maybe as soon as tomorrow morning."

Corrinth yawns and nods in agreement, but holds up a finger until she finishes so that she can ask you a question. "Why don't we both go? I haven't seen Veralt around either. They're probably all gathering up over there wondering where you are. And plus, you and I haven't talked in private in a while."

"Yeah, it's because you're not good company," you answer honestly.

She huffs. "Rude. But I'm coming with you anyway because I don't want to sleep outside. Plus, I want to hear about what happened."

"What do you mean?" you ask, but you think you already know what she means. "...There wasn't much begging, alright? I knocked the doors open and found Count Caspan cowering behind his bed. He had a knife, but as soon as he saw that my feet weren't touching the ground, he threw it aside and told me that I was a demon. And then I pinned him against the wall and ripped him apart with telekinesis."

Corrinth's eyes widen. "So it's true...! He is dead," she says with a nervous snicker. "And what a way to go! ...But why kill him? Wasn't making him bend the knee the whole-" You glare at her, and she freezes a moment before laughing out of habit. "Anyway," she pivots, "what's the plan for tomorrow?"

You shrug. "We tell the city he tried to fight. We show them the body. Then, we appoint his successor."

Her expression wears a paper-thin smile as a facade, but you recognize the confusion behind her eyes. It's only a few seconds of blessed silence before she opens her mouth again. "...You don't seem like you're enjoying this anymore."

"I'm just tired," you answer. "Don't think about it too hard."

A moment later, you see the temple around a corner and recognize the subtle glow of torch sconces keeping the building lit inside. Corrinth is thankfully being quiet for the moment, so you can easily move on, but there is one question that you want to ask.

1. How Did I Die? - You stop at the corner and look at Corrinth for long enough that she stops and gives you her full, nervous, chaotic attention. You sigh again, grasping for a reassurance you're incapable of giving yourself. "Corrinth, when you were pretending to be me, two years ago, you put on a different disguise and then visited my family. You said they were okay, but... How were they really? And, also, you said I 'died' the next day. I never learned anything else about that trip aside from what you planned if I wouldn't join the coven. This isn't about that," you quickly add, "I just want to know, what did you put them through?"

2. Let It Go - You let it slip away. The answer would probably infuriate you anyway.

 

[Infab]

2

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

1