Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening

[K0mori]

Option 1: 6 Votes (67% - Range: 1-67)
Option 2: 3 Votes (33% - Range: 68-100)
Fae Roll: 60

1. Paranoia - You can hardly express the thoughts running through your mind right now, but chief among them is an overwhelming suspicion: "No... No I'm not!" you stammer. "Syrith is trying to control me - live through me. I... I don't know what I can do..."

"What are you talking about?" Embryx asks, calming herself as you do the same. "Agranne, you just woke up. Did you have a nightmare or something?"

A nightmare? You shake your head emphatically - "I've told you about my dreams before. You know that my dreams are more than just fantasy," you plead with her, but a moment passes in silence in which you realize that she might not have ever placed as much stock in your dreams as you have. You turn away, your blood turning hot as her lack of faith wounds your ego. "...At least I thought you knew."

"Hey!" she says. "That's not fair; I'm trying my best to keep up with each new thing that happens in your life, Agranne, but I'm just a witch, alright? An ordinary mortal. Forgive me if I thought we were safe while we were sleeping."

You scowl at her. "So you didn't believe me when I said I spoke to Ika?"

"I..." she begins to say before pausing nervously. Eventually, she sighs and summons up the courage to confront you. "...You know, I knew Ika for years before we met, Agranne. You said she talked to you about Syrith, and what she does to our souls. Ika..." she continues, turning a bit misty eyed as if she meant to talk to you about this earlier, but the opportunity never arose. "She never cared about that stuff. She joined the coven because she could, and because Corrinth was paying her levies so she could have a roof over her head. She was the least complicated person I've ever met - sitting and talking with her made time feel like it was standing still, sometimes."

"So what!?" you snap. "She's had two years of sobriety in death, don't you think she'd have time to think about what her decisions got her?"

You've seen Embryx angry plenty of times, and a handful of those times have been your fault. But this time, you've struck a nerve like never before, and she doesn't hesitate to snatch her boots off the ground and shove her feet into them as if to leave. You try to back down and apologize for your comment, but she doesn't want to hear it. "I warned you - I swore to you - if you started acting like Corrinth I would-"

"-I'm not-" you try to interrupt, but she shouts over you.

"Her body wasn't even cold before Corrinth tried to blame her for what happened in Tashlaan - and that's how she always was!" she yells, snatching her mace off the floor. "No respect for anyone who didn't fit into her plans and act the ways she wanted them to act... She was my friend, Agranne. You barely knew her. She was more than just a drunk."

She's crying. You can't fix this right now. It's time to stop talking.

Although she's ready to storm out into the night, she hesitates a moment, gathering herself up. This time, you don't try to speak; she'll do the talking when she's ready. "...I've dreamed about her, too," she finally says. "I've gone fishing with her, and we've sat in the tavern and played cards, and just talked about things... I miss her so much..."

You hang your head and rub your sleepless eyes. You remember the ride away from Tashlaan; Embryx didn't seem rattled by any of it - only in the moment Corrinth explained her mother and Ika were dead do you recall the drow reacting with shock and dismay. Maybe she was in denial? Or more likely - she was keeping everything bottled up, like everyone else. All of you had experienced trauma, but you had to work together to get through it. In the years since, however, you keep learning a bit more, here and there, about how happy Embryx was to have a friend that didn't care about the struggle of the coven or anything like that.

Lifting your head, you're relieved to see she hasn't started for the exit. "...I'm sorry," you try again, gently. "Maybe it was just a dream. I just... I don't have those kinds of dreams like you do - not with people I've lost. People keep suffering when I see them in my dreams, and I want to believe that there's a reason why I'm there to witness it."

"What the hell was it, then? What did you see this time?" Embryx asks.

You hang your head. "...I was like a spirit, and I was being guided into someone's home. I could see the presence of dark magic all around me, and it seemed excited wherever I stood. That place... It was a lot like where I grew up, but it was a family of drow who lived there. There was this girl, and she had that book - the one we found in the library in Mardenaal that Corrinth lost. She had it and she was trying to talk to Syrith. She couldn't see me, and so I got close to her and tried to give her a nudge, but I passed right through. And then, I felt like I had to..."

You motion the closing of your hand into a fist.

"You killed her?" Embryx asks.

You shake your head. "No. I took hold of her soul, and when I did, dark magic entered it and changed it, and I realized she had become like me. I branded her soul, just like Syrith did to us, and when I was done, she threatened to kill her mother and father." Recounting the story does little to convince Embryx or any of your other spectators that what you experienced was real, per se, but the emotion with which you explained it at least lends credence to the vividness of what you experienced. "I... I remember her name. It was Sharyx."

Embryx walks toward the brazier in the middle of the room and warms herself over it. "...So you think she's a real person, and Syrith somehow possessed you to induct her into the coven? Is that it?"

You nod. It sounds insane, but it's the only story you have. "...I don't know what happens to our souls when we sleep, Embryx. You might not believe me, but I believe mine travels wherever the Eldest sees fit. Outsiders keep calling me an avatar of 'the Dark One,' and I'm starting to fear it might be true - or at least it will be in the future. That one day, I might be compelled to give myself over completely to Her will." You swallow hard, thinking about the ways you've lost control of your violent tendencies in the past few days. You think about what might happen, and who you might lose, if you can't slow down and think more clearly.

"...I'm afraid," you confide.

Embryx stares into the fire. "...Me too," she says. "Either you're wrong, and your mind is cracking under the pressure of moving mountains, or you're right, and we're completely fucked." You walk up beside her and she wraps an arm around you, having seemingly moved on from her anger to some degree over your insensitive remarks. Suddenly, she chuckles a bit. "...It figures. I finally found someone who wants me like I want her, and a fucking god has to get in the way."

You don't really have anything else to say, although you're thankful for her. You lean into her, closing your eyes tight and feeling the warmth of her and the fire beside you.

"...And you know what else?" she says quietly. "It's either me being fae-touched, or maybe just dumb, but if I have to go through Her to get back to you, I will."

It isn't a joke. She means it.

---
​

After another few hours of dreamless rest, you're awoken by Stalna, who does the same for Embryx. "Sisters, the Duke is coming. What will we do?"

You shake off the sleep, quickly seeking your boots.

1. Meet with the Duke - "I'll meet with him alone, and see if I can't change his mind about attacking," you state. "Everyone else can stay inside the city walls, but make sure they're awake and ready to fight in the streets if they have to."

2. Send a Crow - You're not about to risk yourself or the Pandemonium Door. "I'll send a messenger and let him know the lives of the city's innocents are in his hands. He just needs to be smart about this."

3. Prepare for Battle - There's no point in pretending that the Duke will see reason. "Gather up your circles, then," you instruct. "There's bound to be more of them, but they can't fight like an army while they're stuck in the streets of the city. We'll pick them apart, just like we did out west."

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

3

 

[bat_hacker]

3

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[turtwigwins]

1

 

[Infab]

2

 

[Breadman]

3

 

[Damian0358]

2

 

[dikdik]

2222222222222222222222222222222222

 

[rpg.veteran]

1

 

[K0mori]

The vote is tied - DEALER'S CHOICE:

1. Meet with the Duke - "I'll meet with him alone, and see if I can't change his mind about attacking," you state. "Everyone else can stay inside the city walls, but make sure they're awake and ready to fight in the streets if they have to."

"Sister," Stalna reports, her eyes wide with intensity: "the army Duke Vallen's brought is a magnitude larger than what we faced before. They outnumber us more than five-to-one. They could easily have brought enough mages to fight us one-to-one with magic alone!"

Jannava, now fully awake, groans in frustration at her own lack of readiness. "...I'll be gathering up our necromancers and heading to the graveyard. If Agranne can stall them long enough, we can at least pump our numbers up by a hundred or so, but it'd be more if we had the Door-"

"No," Embryx says, cutting off the tiefling. "If Agranne's going out there alone-"

"I know, I mean after!" Jannava snaps, having slipped her boots on. "We'll be raising them as long as the fight goes on."

You think hard about the task ahead. Your reputation is one of your strongest weapons - and if you don't use it here and now, you won't have the chance again unless you pull off a dramatic victory. You need to buy them as much time as possible, of course, but if you could only frighten the Duke's forces into retreating, you could keep a strong handle on the situation. "I'll do my best to turn them away," you say to Jannava. "Luck be with you, sister."

She looks back at you and gives a nod, apparently relieved that you're in the right frame of mind for once.

"...Where's Corrinth?" Embryx asks. "Is she with Veralt again?"

Stalna frowns as she confirms it: "They're in the convent."

"Dammit... Go wake them up, would you?" you instruct her.

Moments later, you step outside into the gray morning and take stock of your surroundings. The air is calm, but tiny drops of water warn of rain coming at any moment. You set your wide-brimmed hat on your head and sigh, hoping that you don't have to deal with a downpour of shiver-inducing rain on top of everything else. The city is mostly intact after the chaos raised the prior night, although the streets are nearly empty aside from wandering bands of listless witches in search of food or equipment. Some, however, seem fresh. Embryx appears behind you in the doorway and shares a suspicion that's already on your mind. "They must have come after the battle yesterday," the drow says.

"I'm sure they're a little underwhelmed," you grumble. "We're even less ready today than we were yesterday."

Embryx shifts uncomfortably. "Agranne," she says, "what are you even going to say when you get out there?"

You shrug. "It's not like I've got a speech all planned out... I suppose I'll just scare him."

"Zizterz!" Wag shouts from across the way, hopping along with a large party of the fresh-faced witches behind her. "Another Zixty-zix witchez arrived overnight. What zhould they do?"

You turn to Embryx, needing her to be your voice while you're away. "Can you get them sorted out? I want you to round up any fighters you can find and get them posted up near the gates. Any necromancers you come across need to be in the graveyard with Jannava, and the rest, I'll leave to you and Stalna," you say, turning back to Wag. "...I don't even know where Fiola ended up."

"What about Veralt?" the goblin asks.

You shake your head. "He's distracted. For now, tell Halfiya to get their circle in order - Veralt will join them when he can. And any fae-touched that might be among them... send to Corrinth," you add, reluctantly.

---
​

You reach the top of the battlements on the wall near the gates into the city, which have been closed to anticipate the arrival of the Duke's forces. They seem well-disciplined, with their commanders barking orders or giving short speeches to rally their spirits after a hard night spent marching. Some of them are bringing out ladders and other equipment to overcome the city's defenses, while still others have war dogs on chains, barking and howling as they strain against the restraints.

Among the crowd, you also spot mages carrying staves or other implements, and unlike the Count's army, you're certain that they won't mass in a single place which could be disrupted by single witch or a handful working in tandem. Duke Vallen, it seems, has more knowledge of strategy than whatever commander Caspan had sent, and speaking of which, you spot a figure near the front and center of the formation on horseback, whose heavy plate and commanding demeanor tells you he might be in charge. You take a deep breath. It's time to make an entrance.

But just then, a horn blows from the enemy army, and the man in heavy armor rides to the front of the formation to face them. Although he turns his back on the city, you know he wouldn't be so stupid as to leave himself exposed; mages and archers flanking him on either side keep watch on the battlements. Perhaps they can already see you, although they haven't identified you as the Terrorchild, yet. The Duke begins to address them, his voice booming loudly enough that you can hear it all the way across the field, although you aren't sure what he's saying. You reason at least a hundred of his thousand-or-so soldiers are being treated to words of encouragement, allusions to holy callings, and indictments against evil.

You raise a hand to the sky, summoning up all your strength for a massive telekinetic push on the skies above. You strain, feeling your pneuma tested like it was when you finished off Caspan's army with their own blood - this is the limits of your power, for now: an expanding wall, thundering into the sky the moment you release it from your grasp. You drop to your knee as it ripples through the sky, eventually causing the clouds above to deform and dump their contents in a shimmering sun shower.

You clasp the Door and wait for it to renew you - it only takes a moment. Then, rising into the air, your dark figure cuts a silhouette into the midst of a column of dawn's light cast down on you. Your hands outstretched to either side, you gently glide through the air, your coat billowing as you make your entrance to a stunned crowd. The power you feel is as intoxicating as ever, and although you swore you wouldn't allow it to control you in the way it has these past few days, you still wear a hideous smile as you watch these men and women shrink back.

"Duke Vallen, I assume? I am-" you begin, pausing as you nearly introduce yourself as "Syrith's chosen," as it would have been quite effective at frightening them, but you quickly change your mind. "-Agranne, Terrorchild of Lyrthrefang. You and I should speak. For the health of your men and your country - it would-"

To your great surprise, the Duke motions with his hand to a group of mages to his right, who point their staves in unison to unleash a powerful and holy golden fireball that rockets into the sky in your direction. From the moment it leaves them, it expands, becoming a miniature sun that threatens to engulf you. But you have a means to escape, and in a puff of smoke, you vanish before appearing behind the lot of them. As most have their eyes fixed upon the brightly glowing flare which you apparently disappeared behind moments ago, it comes as a potent shock when you unleash a few lockbreaker strikes into the heads of the mages who nearly killed you - and would have succeeded had you not learned the fae technique of teleportation so recently.

They cry out - all of them. The nearby warriors and mages scramble to react as the bodies hit the ground, but you force them all backwards with another expanding wall, leaving only you, the Duke, and a few mages who had put up their barriers in time to deflect the technique. Before you can address them, one manages to catch you in the all-engulfing light you faced in Purrosh as his voice admonishes you: "SINNER! LAY DOWN AND DIE."

You growl and close your eyes tight, despite the lack of relief it brings from the light's omnipresent vigilance, but with another teleportation, you emerge from the spell to find yourself in the air above the caster's head. You hold out your hand, using telekinesis to rip the staff from his grip and into your own before turning its point down like a spear and thrusting it back. Your telekinesis drives it like a pin through his entire body, from the crown of his head through his groin, and he collapses dead on the spot. More screaming.

Fear me.

You hear archers letting loose their arrows from the distinctive twang of sinew against the air, bowstrings vibrating like instruments and sending their missiles aloft. You quickly dodge out of the way by landing hard on the bloody ground beneath you, sending out another expanding barrier. This time, the crowd is disoriented, and you easily glide toward the mounted Duke before placing your palm on him. With a pop of rushing air, the two of you are teleported upwards into the sky.

You do it again.

...You do it again.

Now, you're high enough that all you hear is Duke Vallen's terrified voice, screaming and begging for help from his men, first, and then from his gods. You drag him higher and higher until you're out of the range of arrows and spells, so that you can speak with him peacefully like you had intended. Glancing around, the tops of the clouds look like a snowy landscape, lit by the morning sun. It looks divine, in a way; you remember being told by the church clerics in Ryggander that this is what the heavens are believed to look like by some...

Ironic.

"As I was saying," you continue at last, releasing Vallen so that he's floating in the sky a few feet away, far enough that he can't reach you, "I believe it would be best for all involved if we found a different solution to our dispute."

"...Is this... Is this funny to you!?" he barks through the slats on his helmet.

Now that he mentioned it, it is kind of funny. "It's hilarious, actually," you reply.

"Y- You can't expect me to have a conversation with you while I'm dangling in the gods-damned sky! Put me back down!"

"I wanted to have our little talk on the ground. But you thought it would be a great idea to try to burn me with holy fire. I'd tell you a story so you might understand why I take that more than a little personally," you spit, "but for now, we both have more important matters to consider. You're about to send a thousand soldiers to their deaths, Lord Vallen, and it'll all be for nothing."

Vallen closes his eyes and breathes, steeling his courage so that he can try to speak clearly with you. "...That's not true," he says, taking his helmet off so that he can look you in the eye. He's a young and remarkably handsome half-elf, with blond, nearly white hair and blue eyes. "Every one of those men is willing to lay down their lives trying to prevent the servants of Syrith from marching on Thandan. When they face judgement, they will say they did their duty, to king, country, and the light of the heavens."

"Pretty words," you remark.

"Not just words," he replies.

"All the same. Your gods lay back and accept your worship - you work all your lives and then you thank them as if they had anything to do with it. And as I come marching for your Kingdom, they watch you fall on your blades in devotion instead of intervening on your behalf. The give nothing, but threaten to deny you paradise if you refuse to be their puppet!"

Vallen grunts his annoyance at your heresy. "And you're so different!? I've heard about Lythrefang and its belief in the Grand Design. Tell me this, witch: what happens if you stop this madness and choose another path? If you cut your strings, do you not expect the Dark One to seek her vengeance on you?"

1. Let's Find Out - This argument isn't getting you anywhere. It's time to make your intentions clear: "...I'll tell you this, out of the earshot of my coven sisters and your brothers in arms: once the coven has scored its victory against the crown of Turadal, it's my intention to quit this place and seek my own destiny elsewhere - outside the coven and Syrith's control. That retribution might come, but I won't go through life without knowing. Maybe we can both be free. But if I kill you, then both of us will fall victim to the whims of our gods."

2. I Have a Plan for That - "She can try," you answer hotly. "The Grand Design is resting on my shoulders, Lord Vallen. If she betrays me and strikes me down, I'll bring the whole coven with me." The words are swift and full of energy, so much more confident than your affirmations spoken last night to Eredov. But will they sound anything less than insane to your captive?

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[Infab]

1

 

[Breadman]

2

 

[hardcore.munchkin]

2

 

[dikdik]

1

 

[turtwigwins]

1

 

[rpg.veteran]

1

 

[Damian0358]

1

 

[K0mori]

Option 1: 6 Votes (75% - Range: 1-75)
Option 2: 2 Votes (25% - Range: 76-100)
Fae Roll: 42

1. Let's Find Out - This argument isn't getting you anywhere. It's time to make your intentions clear: "...I'll tell you this, out of the earshot of my coven sisters and your brothers in arms: once the coven has scored its victory against the crown of Turadal, it's my intention to quit this place and seek my own destiny elsewhere - outside the coven and Syrith's control. That retribution might come, but I won't go through life without knowing. Maybe we can both be free. But if I kill you, then both of us will fall victim to the whims of our gods."

Duke Vallen pauses a moment, seemingly to consider it, before giving you a sly look. "...Pretty words," he says, using your own jab against you. "I don't seek 'freedom' from my Gods; their guidance may be writ in scripture and preached throughout the land, but they stand aside and let us mortals act upon our own courage and stand on our own two feet - to shape the world as we see fit. I have freedom of choice just as do you - but what you seek is freedom from consequence, and that can never be - even if we're truly doomed to enter the dark age of Syrith's design," he states, looking out over the clouds dejectedly.

You sense a growing hollowness inside yourself, but you won't let it show. "...Stand on your own? Shape the world!?" you repeat. "HA! You cling to that noble bloodline of yours to keep your grip over a parcel of the realm - one that you can't even protect!"

"I can try nonetheless!" he barks back. "What else is there in life but scant chances to do the right thing!?"

"Soooo noble!" you deride. "There are chances every day, all around you! Why wait until a crisis to be so selfless!? Had this moment not come, where would your destiny lie - getting fat and rich off the bounty of the land!? Fathering some entitled little shits that you can hand the reins to when you die? You don't shape the world; it was shaped for you at the cost of everyone else."

Something seems to come over the Duke as you mention his hypothetical heirs. As you finish your accusations, a profound sadness takes him. "I... I have a child already, actually. She's..." he admits, quickly finding himself at a loss for words as he shakes his head in amazement at the way his life has just crystalized before his eyes. "If I lived long enough, I would want to see her happy. She's only a babe - if I die now, she wouldn't..." he pauses, "...she wouldn't remember me."

His expression completely snaps you out of your prior mindset, and you quickly turn away, ashamed of yourself. Even the deepest pits of your wrathful soul, you can't bring yourself to hate a baby. "...Don't you realize that if I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it by now!?" you admonish him. Your anger fades into self-loathing as you float in silence before giving an exasperated sigh.

You speak to him in a more level-headed manner: "...I didn't give Count Caspan a chance to reach an understanding, and I regret it. Maybe that's just blind luck on your part that my vengeance fell on some other unfortunate fool, but I really do want to change my behavior... I've become so accustomed to the way this world condemns my entire existence that I had stopped caring whether my victims are deserving or innocent."

"You want to change?" Vallen replies, accusingly, "how can you, when there's so much of the Dark One's handiwork left to do?"

You grin at him, and he realizes he should stop arguing this point. "...The work will get done, one way or another... and you can trust that I'll enjoy it, too," you add with a snicker. "Don't expect me to repent any time soon... But I also don't want to lose all control, either. There's still good in the world, and not all of it is out to get me."

"...I see," he replies, cautiously. He isn't sure of how to proceed; you've managed to confirm to him that he's right to oppose you, and yet you've revealed a genuine intention to avoid being the worst version of yourself. But how can this lead to a deal?

"Tell me, what if your daughter becomes a witch, like me? What sort of world would you shape for her?" you suddenly ask, seeing an opportunity to probe Vallen's spiritual fortitude.

Vallen's gentle side, which revealed itself when he thought of his infant daughter, returns as he addresses your new question - "You mean to test me, but my love for her is unconditional," Vallen answers.

"That's not what I asked," you reply. "I think of my own family often, and how much it probably torments them that I've become what I am, but that's irrelevant, isn't it? ...I'm asking you what you would do to make a better world for a witch who's done no wrong. Right now, there's little hope for us, and the same would be true for your daughter if-"

Vallen interrupts, tiring of your hypothetical quickly. "I- I suppose I would do my best to protect her from prejudice, and seek to secure her future as I would have done regardless. Only if she decided to walk that darker path - to become a 'sister' of Lythrefang and indulge her worst instincts - would I condemn her," he explains. He seems to sense the direction you're attempting to take this. "...And what about you? What sort of world would you create for my daughter?"

The question surprises you and you think about it for a moment.

"...I would want the existence of witchcraft to be regarded as ordinary as magic itself," you answer. "If, one day, she found herself awakened to it, then I would want her to feel safe telling anyone of her discovery, especially those of the cloth."

"I take it you were cast out?" Vallen asks.

"I left of my own accord," you reply quickly, but with a sigh, you reveal the truth. "My blood sister, Rigatte, was a witch who awakened before me. I went to the church to ask for their guidance, and they sent the hunters after her. She was... She was only eighteen when she died. My age."

Vallen's eyes widen for a moment as he begins to process what a horrific world you and your sister, and perhaps all witches, stepped into the moment you had your awakenings. You quickly return to the point at hand to avoid this entire discussion becoming about you and your trauma. "...Maybe there'd be less of us turning to Lythrefang if we were still welcome to pray in the temples-" you quickly explain, "-and work ordinary jobs, and remain with our families, for that matter. I would want for your daughter to live just the same as she would if she were an ordinary girl."

Vallen nods slowly, appreciating the simplicity of your response. Nonetheless, he tests you: "And what if she wants to explore her powers? Doesn't witchcraft lead one to wickedness, trickery, and violence?"

"I came to you to speak, and you tried to kill me without warning" you remind him, snickering again over the close-call. "Look, it might not be the same, but there's plenty of use for trickery and violence in the world. Maybe someday, witches could even play a valuable role in the royal army of Turadal. And I won't even get started on how much wickedness there already is in the world, with seemingly no one to blame..."

An uncomfortable silence falls over Vallen as he begins to understand that you aren't the two-dimensional zealot he thought you were. ...You're just dangerous and unpredictable.

1. Offer Truce - Maybe this is a prime opportunity to strike a deal? You decide to try it. "The coven is going to march east toward Thandan. I can control it, and prevent the witches from causing death and destruction along the way, sparing you, your soldiers, and your subjects. I promise to you, the protection of my sisters is all I seek from Turadal, and there will be no more ransacking if you let me pass."

2. Manipulate Him - You've seen and heard enough; you doubt he'll agree to let your sisters pass without a fight. You decide to flood his mind with sadness and doubt so that he'll believe you've won the argument - that way he'll be too despondent to order the attack.

3. Drop Him - "You don't really understand what I mean, do you?" you ask after the silence has carried on enough. "I'm wasting my time on you," you hiss as you simply let him fall to his death.

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[Infab]

2

 

[bat_hacker]

1

 

[rpg.veteran]

1

 

[turtwigwins]

1