Breadman
Big loaf supreme
1
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Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening
- Thread starter K0mori
- Start date
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
1
turtwigwins
Junior Member
1
Embryx's Suggestion
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 1: 6 Votes (86% - Range: 1-86)
Option 2: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 87-100)
Fae Roll: 68
"Very well," Stalna replies, dutifully. "Hopefully the rest of the circle hasn't ransacked the Mage College while we've been busy."
Embryx gives a carefree smile. "Somehow, I doubt they're going to care that much about curation records and depictions of the other gods," she reasons as you follow her out onto the street. The snow is increasingly deep and piling deeper as the bleak night leaves everything in an impenetrable shadow - a lingering effect of Kulka's unnerving control over the weather. Stalna follows after you, taking out a lantern to help light your paths.
"You didn't want a magical weapon?" you ask her as she joins you.
Wordlessly, she takes out a dagger that she had swiped from the armory cabinet while you were busy admiring your new sickle. "...I just didn't make a fuss of it," she says.
"Fair enough," you reply with a shrug. "I wonder what they're going to do with all those wands and staves we saw at the Mage College earlier... If nobody's done it yet, I think they should gather up all those implements and keep them on hand. It wouldn't surprise me if a dozen new witches make themselves known to us in the next few weeks."
Embryx grunts in agreement. "...They probably should've already started, if that's what they're gonna do. It's going to be miserable, digging through all this snow to find them."
"Maybe we should've kept some of the undead; they'd have been pretty useful for this," Stalna suggests.
Stalna shines her lantern ahead of you as you push into the library archives, noticing the beads of moisture on the walls and shelves as you pass and wondering how soon it will be before the cold, wet air begins to destroy these carefully-kept records. Although concerned, a part of you feels a dark satisfaction, knowing that some of the lost items here will be replaced by the literature of the coven - newly-written literature, made possible by your conquest. With Silanae on the throne, witches and warlocks will finally be allowed to roam these halls, existing as contemporaries of the students here for the first time, rather than an abstract threat - a horror - needing stomped out with absolute prejudice.
At least, that's how you hope that the new Queen will handle it. Based on what you know of her so far, you could easily imagine her reigniting the war between light and dark magic for her own amusement, as she doesn't quite grasp how truly awful life has been for most dark mages. How could she? She's always been a rich, pompous parasite. Regardless of whether Silanae does the right thing or not, on some level you still hope little Alina will come back and kill her one day.
You reach the tapestry again.
"So... What are we looking for, exactly?" Embryx asks. "Like, do you think it'll be on a scroll, or in a ledger...?"
You move to a nearby shelf and begin taking the books down, one by one, so that you can flip through their pages and scan for anything which might suggest that it's a catalog of the library's artifacts. "I don't know. Just start looking and let me know if you see anything that's about this library itself," you reply.
Stalna sets the lantern down and joins the two of you as you get to work. Names and locations of holy places. A history of staves and an analysis of their construction. Ingredients for potion-making. No, no, no. Famous mages throughout history? A guide to healing through magic? Nooooo. The outer limits of prognostication? Huh? Magical creatures of the northern tundra... Boring. The dark arts and how to combat them?
"Embryx, hold this, it'll be funny later," you say, handing her the book.
As Embryx cracks a smile at the find, Stalna speaks up.
"I found it," she says.
You walk both walk over to join her and peer down at the ledger she's holding. The Collected Works of Thandan Mage College. YES!
It takes some time, flipping through the pages, before you finally spot a reference to a tapestry. As you get into the paragraph written below, the story unfolds before you:
1. Believe the First Interpretation - You sigh. "...I'm sorry. I just can't see myself up there," you say as you gaze back up at the tapestry. "Whatever he saw, it wasn't me. If that means I have to believe Syrith was a tabaxi who looks just like me, I will."
2. Believe the Second Interpretation - "Forget the apocalypse shit. The second one sounds the most like me, doesn't it?" you ask the others.
3. Believe the Third Interpretation - "Huh." You stand and crack a smile, even as you feel sick to your stomach. "Alright then."
4. Reject all Interpretations - "It's all bullshit," you say, shaking your head. "Honestly, how can they claim to know who every single one of these people are supposed to be, all except the one that looks like me? I can hardly figure out whether half of these guys are supposed to be humans or elves..."
Option 2: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 87-100)
Fae Roll: 68
"Very well," Stalna replies, dutifully. "Hopefully the rest of the circle hasn't ransacked the Mage College while we've been busy."
Embryx gives a carefree smile. "Somehow, I doubt they're going to care that much about curation records and depictions of the other gods," she reasons as you follow her out onto the street. The snow is increasingly deep and piling deeper as the bleak night leaves everything in an impenetrable shadow - a lingering effect of Kulka's unnerving control over the weather. Stalna follows after you, taking out a lantern to help light your paths.
"You didn't want a magical weapon?" you ask her as she joins you.
Wordlessly, she takes out a dagger that she had swiped from the armory cabinet while you were busy admiring your new sickle. "...I just didn't make a fuss of it," she says.
"Fair enough," you reply with a shrug. "I wonder what they're going to do with all those wands and staves we saw at the Mage College earlier... If nobody's done it yet, I think they should gather up all those implements and keep them on hand. It wouldn't surprise me if a dozen new witches make themselves known to us in the next few weeks."
Embryx grunts in agreement. "...They probably should've already started, if that's what they're gonna do. It's going to be miserable, digging through all this snow to find them."
"Maybe we should've kept some of the undead; they'd have been pretty useful for this," Stalna suggests.
---
You arrive at the Mage College for the second time, and find it appearing deceptively tranquil, now that the remaining dead bodies are fully-hidden beneath the blanket of snow - nothing but indistinct lumps in the wash of white. You levitate yourself and your two allies so that you can glide easily down the unseen stairs toward the central building where the library is located. Inside, you find that the lights have been fully extinguished from neglect, but the College has been left largely unmolested... Now that you think of it, you should have realized this would be the case when you didn't see footsteps in the snow outside.
Stalna shines her lantern ahead of you as you push into the library archives, noticing the beads of moisture on the walls and shelves as you pass and wondering how soon it will be before the cold, wet air begins to destroy these carefully-kept records. Although concerned, a part of you feels a dark satisfaction, knowing that some of the lost items here will be replaced by the literature of the coven - newly-written literature, made possible by your conquest. With Silanae on the throne, witches and warlocks will finally be allowed to roam these halls, existing as contemporaries of the students here for the first time, rather than an abstract threat - a horror - needing stomped out with absolute prejudice.
At least, that's how you hope that the new Queen will handle it. Based on what you know of her so far, you could easily imagine her reigniting the war between light and dark magic for her own amusement, as she doesn't quite grasp how truly awful life has been for most dark mages. How could she? She's always been a rich, pompous parasite. Regardless of whether Silanae does the right thing or not, on some level you still hope little Alina will come back and kill her one day.
You reach the tapestry again.
"So... What are we looking for, exactly?" Embryx asks. "Like, do you think it'll be on a scroll, or in a ledger...?"
You move to a nearby shelf and begin taking the books down, one by one, so that you can flip through their pages and scan for anything which might suggest that it's a catalog of the library's artifacts. "I don't know. Just start looking and let me know if you see anything that's about this library itself," you reply.
Stalna sets the lantern down and joins the two of you as you get to work. Names and locations of holy places. A history of staves and an analysis of their construction. Ingredients for potion-making. No, no, no. Famous mages throughout history? A guide to healing through magic? Nooooo. The outer limits of prognostication? Huh? Magical creatures of the northern tundra... Boring. The dark arts and how to combat them?
"Embryx, hold this, it'll be funny later," you say, handing her the book.
As Embryx cracks a smile at the find, Stalna speaks up.
"I found it," she says.
You walk both walk over to join her and peer down at the ledger she's holding. The Collected Works of Thandan Mage College. YES!
It takes some time, flipping through the pages, before you finally spot a reference to a tapestry. As you get into the paragraph written below, the story unfolds before you:
The Pantheon of Seven Sleeps - Moktu of Holgo - 2nd Era, 980
Famed practitioner of divination, Moktu of Holgo, created this masterpiece over the course of seven years of exhaustive work, in which he repeatedly viewed the futures of individual gods and goddesses, recording details of their physical appearance and relics upon scraps of birch bark, before adding each figure to this gallery. Moktu spoke of a "great meeting hall" in which all of his visions converged, and all who are seen in the tapestry meet for some momentous occasion. At the time of its completion, many figures were unknown, but by the time of Moktu's death in 2nd Era, 998, five of the more than 30 "strangers" were identified through the efforts of other researchers.
Throughout the 3rd Era, further efforts were made to test the validity of Moktu's efforts, with nearly all eventually being vindicated. Many of the figures seen in Moktu's visions have been identified not as gods, but as saints and prophets. Saint Pak, depicted aside Upa, was born two decades after Moktu's death in a particularly poignant example of the accuracy of his predictions. Moktu himself, although not depicted in his own masterpiece, has since been regarded as a prophet for his work. As of the 5th Era, 41, all but a single figure have been identified.
That final unknown figure, a tabaxi female, is sometimes argued to be a depiction of Syrith, although this cannot be proven or disproven due to the lack of any other known depiction of the Goddess of Dark Magic. It is doubtful that Moktu glimpsed a figure which has sought obscurity from all other would-be observers for centuries. Another theory posits that this figure represents a disciple of Syrith's teachings, as the triangular object in her hands appears similar to the evil relic known as the Pandemonium Door. Proponents of this theory suggest that a witch of considerable strength will appear at some future date to seize the Door. However, detractors claim that such a controversial figure would never be welcomed to meet with the divine, unlike all others depicted here.
A final theory posits that the figure is neither Syrith nor any of her disciples, but is instead a new goddess, whose appearance is a dark omen - as signified by the Pandemonium Door's presence. Those in favor of such an interpretation believe that the figure may be the physical embodiment of doom - an apocalyptic figure who will not appear to the world until the alignment of events signals the coming of the end of days. This, they argue, would explain her presence at the table - a grim but necessary end to the story of man and mer.
"Holy shit," Embryx says as you finish reading the description together. "I don't know what I expected, but the end of the world wasn't it."Famed practitioner of divination, Moktu of Holgo, created this masterpiece over the course of seven years of exhaustive work, in which he repeatedly viewed the futures of individual gods and goddesses, recording details of their physical appearance and relics upon scraps of birch bark, before adding each figure to this gallery. Moktu spoke of a "great meeting hall" in which all of his visions converged, and all who are seen in the tapestry meet for some momentous occasion. At the time of its completion, many figures were unknown, but by the time of Moktu's death in 2nd Era, 998, five of the more than 30 "strangers" were identified through the efforts of other researchers.
Throughout the 3rd Era, further efforts were made to test the validity of Moktu's efforts, with nearly all eventually being vindicated. Many of the figures seen in Moktu's visions have been identified not as gods, but as saints and prophets. Saint Pak, depicted aside Upa, was born two decades after Moktu's death in a particularly poignant example of the accuracy of his predictions. Moktu himself, although not depicted in his own masterpiece, has since been regarded as a prophet for his work. As of the 5th Era, 41, all but a single figure have been identified.
That final unknown figure, a tabaxi female, is sometimes argued to be a depiction of Syrith, although this cannot be proven or disproven due to the lack of any other known depiction of the Goddess of Dark Magic. It is doubtful that Moktu glimpsed a figure which has sought obscurity from all other would-be observers for centuries. Another theory posits that this figure represents a disciple of Syrith's teachings, as the triangular object in her hands appears similar to the evil relic known as the Pandemonium Door. Proponents of this theory suggest that a witch of considerable strength will appear at some future date to seize the Door. However, detractors claim that such a controversial figure would never be welcomed to meet with the divine, unlike all others depicted here.
A final theory posits that the figure is neither Syrith nor any of her disciples, but is instead a new goddess, whose appearance is a dark omen - as signified by the Pandemonium Door's presence. Those in favor of such an interpretation believe that the figure may be the physical embodiment of doom - an apocalyptic figure who will not appear to the world until the alignment of events signals the coming of the end of days. This, they argue, would explain her presence at the table - a grim but necessary end to the story of man and mer.
1. Believe the First Interpretation - You sigh. "...I'm sorry. I just can't see myself up there," you say as you gaze back up at the tapestry. "Whatever he saw, it wasn't me. If that means I have to believe Syrith was a tabaxi who looks just like me, I will."
2. Believe the Second Interpretation - "Forget the apocalypse shit. The second one sounds the most like me, doesn't it?" you ask the others.
3. Believe the Third Interpretation - "Huh." You stand and crack a smile, even as you feel sick to your stomach. "Alright then."
4. Reject all Interpretations - "It's all bullshit," you say, shaking your head. "Honestly, how can they claim to know who every single one of these people are supposed to be, all except the one that looks like me? I can hardly figure out whether half of these guys are supposed to be humans or elves..."
Last edited:
CHUUYAS_HAT
ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ
3.
joshuadim
the writer
4
Breadman
Big loaf supreme
3
Infab
The Demon Fanatic
4
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
3
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
2
bat_hacker
Junior Member
3
Believe the Third Interpretation
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 2: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 1-14)
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 15-71)
Option 4: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 72-100)
Fae Roll: 38
"...Alright then?" Embryx repeats, looking at you skeptically. She can see the distance in your eyes and the curl of your lip, and recognizes the signs that your mind is yet again preoccupied by something dangerous and probably despicable.
You quietly snicker to yourself. "Yeah. I suppose it's alright. Why not seek a seat at that table? Why not find out if I'm more than just a mortal?"
"Agranne..." she huffs exasperatedly, becoming obviously more uncomfortable as she stands up in front of you. "We just tore through a freezing cold library in the middle of the night after a really long day, and then spent the last half hour sounding out some snobby mage's ~fancy words~ to each other. We've got what we came here for, alright? We know that the tapestry was made by a mystic and that not even he knew what he was... Hey, are you listening?"
Without realizing it, you've wandered away from her, lost in thought and fixated on the phrase "new goddess" as it appeared in the ledger. What a lovely pair of words. How exactly did these other gods come to be, anyway? Were they mortals themselves, in the beginning? Do they age and die? ...Is there room for another?
Yes...
Your pulse quickens. For a moment it feels as if the winding path you've taken in life has just been pulled so fiercely between its origin and destination that it's cracked the air like a whip on its way into becoming a perfectly straight line... You reach into your pocket and take out the Pandemonium Door, admiring its increasingly ominous red hue. Perhaps it's crimson glow is a result of finally resting in the palm of the one who was meant to carry it all along - the one who was chosen not just by Syrith, but by the gods in general. Perhaps they could all see greatness in your future, and it was merely the Eldest who won control of your fate thus far!
"What if they're right, Embryx? What if I keep getting stronger, and there's nothing in the world that can stop me... What then?"
Stalna stands and back away, but nonetheless tries to reason with you, as Embryx is stunned speechless at your question. "That... That would be up to you, sister, but I do hope that you would be as kind and merciful as that sort of power would allow," she argues. "You've brought down tyrants and punished them for neglecting the weak. W-would you do better, then?"
"I would do what I think is right. Wouldn't any of us?" you ask her, grinning like a madwoman. You can't imagine the merciful, charitable works will excite you as much as the destruction you've been causing, though...
You imagine yourself seated at the table in Moktu's visions, surrounded by the aging, decrepit gods of old. Their greyish blue eyes, full of cataracts... Their wrinkled skin, drawn taught over brittle bones. Maybe you'd find an empty setting where Gallanis once sat, before he died and left generations of starving peasants behind, praying to an empty chair. Zephimus, once the mightiest of all, would hang his head at your arrival - all of his followers, and all the followers of the pantheon, couldn't bring death to Syrith, nor could they bring down the Terrorchild. Yes... Your arrival signals the end, but for their world, not yours!
YES!
You cackle, euphoria rushing through your overworked nerves as you raise your eyes to the ceiling. "I can see it! I'm going to be a GOD!" you declare to the dismay of your two allies. With one hand, you caress the side of your face, and with the other, you lift the Pandemonium Door towards the tapestry and conjure enchanted flames which erupt through the ancient artwork, burning a hole where each god once sat and only leaving yourself unharmed.
"Agranne!" Embryx shouts, snapping you out of the your episode as she seizes onto your outstretched arm, and before you can react, rips the Door out of your hand. You stare at her in shock as she shoves you backward and holds the door high in the air, out of your reach while you're on the ground, and immediately, you sense the toll that hovering about on your telepathy would place on your pneuma. "Calm the FUCK down, Agranne. You've been casting hexes all day long, burning through dark magic like it's your lifeblood. Don't forget how it warps your mind - so eat something with us, get your head on straight and then GO THE FUCK TO BED."
You grit your teeth, trying to resist the urge in the darkest pit of your soul that's telling you to annihilate her where she stands for taking the Door away from you. "...Give it back..." you growl.
"...No," she replies, unafraid. "Remember that I love you, and that I've seen you like this before. ...You came back to me once, and you can do it again. So what's it going to be this time?"
1. Compel Her - You summon up a hex that you know she doesn't have the strength to resist, even with the Door.
2. Manipulate Her - If she really loves you, she should stay on your side.
3. Kill Her - You'll never become a god if you have someone in your life that you'll always surrender to.
4. Hate Yourself - You don't want to do any of these things to her, but you can't stop yourself. (Votes for this option will not be counted.)
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 15-71)
Option 4: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 72-100)
Fae Roll: 38
"...Alright then?" Embryx repeats, looking at you skeptically. She can see the distance in your eyes and the curl of your lip, and recognizes the signs that your mind is yet again preoccupied by something dangerous and probably despicable.
You quietly snicker to yourself. "Yeah. I suppose it's alright. Why not seek a seat at that table? Why not find out if I'm more than just a mortal?"
"Agranne..." she huffs exasperatedly, becoming obviously more uncomfortable as she stands up in front of you. "We just tore through a freezing cold library in the middle of the night after a really long day, and then spent the last half hour sounding out some snobby mage's ~fancy words~ to each other. We've got what we came here for, alright? We know that the tapestry was made by a mystic and that not even he knew what he was... Hey, are you listening?"
Without realizing it, you've wandered away from her, lost in thought and fixated on the phrase "new goddess" as it appeared in the ledger. What a lovely pair of words. How exactly did these other gods come to be, anyway? Were they mortals themselves, in the beginning? Do they age and die? ...Is there room for another?
Yes...
Your pulse quickens. For a moment it feels as if the winding path you've taken in life has just been pulled so fiercely between its origin and destination that it's cracked the air like a whip on its way into becoming a perfectly straight line... You reach into your pocket and take out the Pandemonium Door, admiring its increasingly ominous red hue. Perhaps it's crimson glow is a result of finally resting in the palm of the one who was meant to carry it all along - the one who was chosen not just by Syrith, but by the gods in general. Perhaps they could all see greatness in your future, and it was merely the Eldest who won control of your fate thus far!
"What if they're right, Embryx? What if I keep getting stronger, and there's nothing in the world that can stop me... What then?"
Stalna stands and back away, but nonetheless tries to reason with you, as Embryx is stunned speechless at your question. "That... That would be up to you, sister, but I do hope that you would be as kind and merciful as that sort of power would allow," she argues. "You've brought down tyrants and punished them for neglecting the weak. W-would you do better, then?"
"I would do what I think is right. Wouldn't any of us?" you ask her, grinning like a madwoman. You can't imagine the merciful, charitable works will excite you as much as the destruction you've been causing, though...
You imagine yourself seated at the table in Moktu's visions, surrounded by the aging, decrepit gods of old. Their greyish blue eyes, full of cataracts... Their wrinkled skin, drawn taught over brittle bones. Maybe you'd find an empty setting where Gallanis once sat, before he died and left generations of starving peasants behind, praying to an empty chair. Zephimus, once the mightiest of all, would hang his head at your arrival - all of his followers, and all the followers of the pantheon, couldn't bring death to Syrith, nor could they bring down the Terrorchild. Yes... Your arrival signals the end, but for their world, not yours!
YES!
You cackle, euphoria rushing through your overworked nerves as you raise your eyes to the ceiling. "I can see it! I'm going to be a GOD!" you declare to the dismay of your two allies. With one hand, you caress the side of your face, and with the other, you lift the Pandemonium Door towards the tapestry and conjure enchanted flames which erupt through the ancient artwork, burning a hole where each god once sat and only leaving yourself unharmed.
"Agranne!" Embryx shouts, snapping you out of the your episode as she seizes onto your outstretched arm, and before you can react, rips the Door out of your hand. You stare at her in shock as she shoves you backward and holds the door high in the air, out of your reach while you're on the ground, and immediately, you sense the toll that hovering about on your telepathy would place on your pneuma. "Calm the FUCK down, Agranne. You've been casting hexes all day long, burning through dark magic like it's your lifeblood. Don't forget how it warps your mind - so eat something with us, get your head on straight and then GO THE FUCK TO BED."
You grit your teeth, trying to resist the urge in the darkest pit of your soul that's telling you to annihilate her where she stands for taking the Door away from you. "...Give it back..." you growl.
"...No," she replies, unafraid. "Remember that I love you, and that I've seen you like this before. ...You came back to me once, and you can do it again. So what's it going to be this time?"
1. Compel Her - You summon up a hex that you know she doesn't have the strength to resist, even with the Door.
2. Manipulate Her - If she really loves you, she should stay on your side.
3. Kill Her - You'll never become a god if you have someone in your life that you'll always surrender to.
4. Hate Yourself - You don't want to do any of these things to her, but you can't stop yourself. (Votes for this option will not be counted.)
joshuadim
the writer
4
Infab
The Demon Fanatic
4
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
4
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
2
turtwigwins
Junior Member
4
dikdik
colossal leaf and prince of the universe
4
Breadman
Big loaf supreme
3
Kill Her // Chapter 8: Your Long Journey Home
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 2: 1 Vote (50% - Range: 1-50)
Option 3: 1 Vote (50% - Range: 51-100)
Fae Roll: 84
If you could only think clearly.
...But your fae-touched mind demands entertainment. Your dark soul is a puppet of Syrith's design. Fate itself has declared you divine - a Goddess in the making.
You don't know what you are anymore. No matter how clearly your heart beats for this girl, you can't bring yourself to do anything but obey the impulses leading you to this grievous personal disaster. In only a fraction of a second, Embryx will die, and only two things will remain behind: your loneliness and self-hatred. You can bring back Rigatte, but what difference would it make? She would only abandon you again, just like you've abandoned the parts of yourself which were worthy of love. Maybe the scholars were right. Maybe all you bring is doom, and all you're destined to achieve is the destruction of everything worth keeping.
You lift your hand and drag your claws through the unseen threads of anima, feeling your hooks grab upon her soul. At the very least, you'll make it painless.
The polearm of Embryx's war scythe crashes into the side of your head and instantly, all that you see is engulfed in darkness.
"Wh-what the hell just happened?" Stalna stammers out. "You didn't even wait for an answer! You just..."
You look to the human tiredly. "I read her mind," you respond. "Halfiya taught me the basics of telepathy. Truth is, I was opening her up the whole time I had the Door, and I got in, just in time."
The human regards you as if you've just removed a hood, revealing a totally different person underneath. "I didn't know you..." she says before shaking off the obvious statement for a more insightful question. "What did you see?"
"...She was going to rip my soul out," you explain.
Stalna gasps. "Oh no..."
You watch her shrink away, reaching for her dagger as she contemplates whether or not she'll need to help you kill the Terrorchild, but you quickly shake your head. "Listen to me," you say, gesturing for her to calm herself. "The instant I got access to her thoughts, I knew two truths about Agranne. The first is that she didn't even want to hurt me. Almost every shred of her conscience was screaming at her to stop, and to listen to reason, but they were all pushed aside. The second is that she hates herself. She knows that she isn't in control of her actions, and it's wearing her down."
"She sounded pretty energetic to me," Stalna replies, skeptically. "Are you saying that she's lost her mind completely?"
You wipe the tears out of your eyes. "...No. She's still in there, but she's been pushed to edge by all of this," you say, gesturing at the burning tapestry, "...all this predestined bullshit, and gods meddling in her life. There's nothing she fears more than being alone again; she was thinking about that - about what would happen when I'm gone and there's nothing left of her deserving of anyone's sympathy or care. When she freaked out today, when we were here the first time, and she went off and killed Veralt - it happened because Kulka tried to tell her she wouldn't get her blood sister back, and that all this violence has been pointless. She's teetering on the edge. She needs me. I wish I would have tried harder to be with her, earlier."
Stalna stares at you in disbelief. "Well then, what should I do?" she asks, clearing feeling as if she doesn't really matter in this equation.
You aim to convince her otherwise. "Please, stay with us. I know you don't trust her, but I need you to help me help her. Otherwise, if I can't..."
"Why stay if you're not even sure you're what she needs?" Stalna demands. "She was talking about becoming a god! That's not just loneliness or lovesickness, you know!"
You hang your head. "I don't care. I told her, if I have to go through a god to get to her, I would. And that means her, too."
You open your eyes and try to get a better idea of your surroundings. You're in an inn room with a window looking out over the city of Thandan - you recognize the shape of the keep in the distance. The rooftops are covered in snow, and the steady, rising streams of smoke from the hearth fires of innumerable homes, shops, and alehouses tells you that life has resumed in the city, however unsteady it must feel for the people down below in the streets. You're fully dressed aside from your boots, and there is a private bathroom attached to your room. This is a truly luxurious place; perhaps Kulka arranged for you to sleep here. You feel around on your person and, to your great surprise, you find the Pandemonium Door where it belongs in the safety of your coat pocket.
You slowly sit up, but a sense of dread keeps you planted on the bed, rather than rising to your feet to look for Embryx. You can't imagine that she'd still be close by, after what you had nearly done. Instead, you take stock of your next moves, assuming you'll be on the road alone. You decide that Embryx probably rode out to Manlaash to finish of Corrinth, which means you can safely leave Turadal behind. You feel a bit better, knowing that she won't be endangered by you any longer, and you didn't physically harm her. You'll go south, you decide, into the elf lands of Sonnamille - and then begin your long journey home.
You feel all the loneliness again that you felt before you blacked out, but none of the rage or loss of self control. Sleep has brought peace back to your mind.
1. Leave - Time is ticking; you need to get on the road west if you expect to reunite with Rigatte. At this point, Kulka will probably be the only one traveling with you.
2. Bathe - You doubt that another hour or so will make or break your plan to resurrect your sister. For now, you just need to relax and rest your aching head.
Option 3: 1 Vote (50% - Range: 51-100)
Fae Roll: 84
If you could only think clearly.
...But your fae-touched mind demands entertainment. Your dark soul is a puppet of Syrith's design. Fate itself has declared you divine - a Goddess in the making.
You don't know what you are anymore. No matter how clearly your heart beats for this girl, you can't bring yourself to do anything but obey the impulses leading you to this grievous personal disaster. In only a fraction of a second, Embryx will die, and only two things will remain behind: your loneliness and self-hatred. You can bring back Rigatte, but what difference would it make? She would only abandon you again, just like you've abandoned the parts of yourself which were worthy of love. Maybe the scholars were right. Maybe all you bring is doom, and all you're destined to achieve is the destruction of everything worth keeping.
You lift your hand and drag your claws through the unseen threads of anima, feeling your hooks grab upon her soul. At the very least, you'll make it painless.
The polearm of Embryx's war scythe crashes into the side of your head and instantly, all that you see is engulfed in darkness.
---
Agranne crumples to the ground the instant the tail end of your scythe bashes against her head. A trail of smokey darkness billows from the blade. For a moment, you stand in shocked silence as tears roll down your cheeks. She was actually going to do it. She was going to kill you.
"Wh-what the hell just happened?" Stalna stammers out. "You didn't even wait for an answer! You just..."
You look to the human tiredly. "I read her mind," you respond. "Halfiya taught me the basics of telepathy. Truth is, I was opening her up the whole time I had the Door, and I got in, just in time."
The human regards you as if you've just removed a hood, revealing a totally different person underneath. "I didn't know you..." she says before shaking off the obvious statement for a more insightful question. "What did you see?"
"...She was going to rip my soul out," you explain.
Stalna gasps. "Oh no..."
You watch her shrink away, reaching for her dagger as she contemplates whether or not she'll need to help you kill the Terrorchild, but you quickly shake your head. "Listen to me," you say, gesturing for her to calm herself. "The instant I got access to her thoughts, I knew two truths about Agranne. The first is that she didn't even want to hurt me. Almost every shred of her conscience was screaming at her to stop, and to listen to reason, but they were all pushed aside. The second is that she hates herself. She knows that she isn't in control of her actions, and it's wearing her down."
"She sounded pretty energetic to me," Stalna replies, skeptically. "Are you saying that she's lost her mind completely?"
You wipe the tears out of your eyes. "...No. She's still in there, but she's been pushed to edge by all of this," you say, gesturing at the burning tapestry, "...all this predestined bullshit, and gods meddling in her life. There's nothing she fears more than being alone again; she was thinking about that - about what would happen when I'm gone and there's nothing left of her deserving of anyone's sympathy or care. When she freaked out today, when we were here the first time, and she went off and killed Veralt - it happened because Kulka tried to tell her she wouldn't get her blood sister back, and that all this violence has been pointless. She's teetering on the edge. She needs me. I wish I would have tried harder to be with her, earlier."
Stalna stares at you in disbelief. "Well then, what should I do?" she asks, clearing feeling as if she doesn't really matter in this equation.
You aim to convince her otherwise. "Please, stay with us. I know you don't trust her, but I need you to help me help her. Otherwise, if I can't..."
"Why stay if you're not even sure you're what she needs?" Stalna demands. "She was talking about becoming a god! That's not just loneliness or lovesickness, you know!"
You hang your head. "I don't care. I told her, if I have to go through a god to get to her, I would. And that means her, too."
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN
---
You awaken in a proper bed for the first time since you left the Sanitarium in Mardenaal. Rolling over, you have a throbbing pain in the side of your head, and for some time you simply rest with your hands cradling it, rubbing your temples and, gingerly, the knot where Embryx hit you. Your memories trickle back in, and a deep self-loathing takes hold. You very nearly threw everything away, all at once. Why? After everything you've done, why do you still hate yourself and try to tear it down? ---
You open your eyes and try to get a better idea of your surroundings. You're in an inn room with a window looking out over the city of Thandan - you recognize the shape of the keep in the distance. The rooftops are covered in snow, and the steady, rising streams of smoke from the hearth fires of innumerable homes, shops, and alehouses tells you that life has resumed in the city, however unsteady it must feel for the people down below in the streets. You're fully dressed aside from your boots, and there is a private bathroom attached to your room. This is a truly luxurious place; perhaps Kulka arranged for you to sleep here. You feel around on your person and, to your great surprise, you find the Pandemonium Door where it belongs in the safety of your coat pocket.
You slowly sit up, but a sense of dread keeps you planted on the bed, rather than rising to your feet to look for Embryx. You can't imagine that she'd still be close by, after what you had nearly done. Instead, you take stock of your next moves, assuming you'll be on the road alone. You decide that Embryx probably rode out to Manlaash to finish of Corrinth, which means you can safely leave Turadal behind. You feel a bit better, knowing that she won't be endangered by you any longer, and you didn't physically harm her. You'll go south, you decide, into the elf lands of Sonnamille - and then begin your long journey home.
You feel all the loneliness again that you felt before you blacked out, but none of the rage or loss of self control. Sleep has brought peace back to your mind.
1. Leave - Time is ticking; you need to get on the road west if you expect to reunite with Rigatte. At this point, Kulka will probably be the only one traveling with you.
2. Bathe - You doubt that another hour or so will make or break your plan to resurrect your sister. For now, you just need to relax and rest your aching head.
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