The Soulforge Order

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There is an electronic chime that brings your attention to your holopad where you see a new assignment now on the screen. You see your new mission briefing states that you are to help civilians from districts one to three to board their specified helicopters and ensure that it is done as quickly and efficiently as possible. It is signed off by Commander Strang. Attached is a map that shows you the location of your helicopter and a list of names you need to mark off once they have boarded. You rush over to your assigned area where a crowd of people are already gathering, their voices loud and bodies inching past the makeshift barrier separating them from the helicopter. There are two other academy students helping with the crowd but you can see they are steadily being overwhelmed by the zealous civilians. <fieldset>\ [[• Intimidate the crowd into compliance]] [[• Diplomatically calm the crowd]] [[• Provide support in handling the crowd]] </fieldset>\

<strong>Age:</strong> 27 <strong>Height:</strong> 5'2" <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 3110/04/08 <strong>Current Rank:</strong> Lieutenant Commander Arabella is seen as the backbone of the Soulforge Order. She is always working hard to make sure that the day-to-day activities for Fort Balria are handled and that no one is of need of anything. She is quick to offer a warm smile and a kind word. However, you can’t help but wonder why she hates going on missions… Appearance: Ara is short and toned. Her skin is a warm tawny colour and her eyes a stunning hazel. Ara’s light brown copper, curly hair is barely able to be pulled back into a neat ponytail. Stray curls escape to frame her heart-shaped face and flutter passed the rounded frames of her glasses. She has a small beauty mark just below her left eye. <strong>Relationship</strong> /* render the player's relationship bar */ <<showmeter '$ararelationshipBar' `$ararelationship / $maxaraRelationship`>> [[Back|Characters]]

<div align="center"><h1>CHARACTER PROFILES</h1></div> <div class="container"> <<if $haveMetNico is true>> <div class="card"> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f354e7_029acde01b33411c81d4264f6f065834~mv2.png" style="width:100%"> <<link "Chih-Cheng Nico Wu">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Chih-Cheng Nico Wu"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Chih-Cheng Nico Wu").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>> </div> <</if>> <<if $haveMetAstrid is true>> <div class="card"> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f354e7_190b7caef75b44faaf926d04965c7352~mv2.jpg" style="width:100%"> <<link "Mei-Ling Astrid Wu">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Mei-Ling Astrid Wu"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Mei-Ling Astrid Wu").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>> </div> <</if>> <<if $haveMetWill is true>> <div class="card"> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f354e7_16a541447f174ef5841d7ea432f26916~mv2.png" style="width:100%"> <<link "William Strang">><<script>> Dialog.setup("William Strang"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("William Strang").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>> </div> <</if>> <<if $haveMetAra is true>> <div class="card"> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f354e7_5ca3b2c724204bcebae124adcdf0893b~mv2.jpg" style="width:100%"> <<link "Arabella Hendricks">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Arabella Hendricks"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Arabella Hendricks").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>> </div> <</if>> <<if $haveMetTheo is true>> <div class="card"> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f354e7_c13c20db789b44d7ae97a8b9ee4b7d09~mv2.jpg" style="width:100%"> <<link "Theo Gumede">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Theo Gumede"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Theo Gumede").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>> </div> <</if>> <<if $haveMetMina is true>> <div class="card"> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f354e7_1ad2e24a200c48098f0f115d29899e9e~mv2.jpg" style="width:100%"> <<link "Wilhelmina Rothman">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Wilhelmina Rothman"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Wilhelmina Rothman").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>> </div> <</if>> </div> <<back Return>>

<strong>Age:</strong> 22 <strong>Height:</strong> 5'10" <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 3115/06/16 <strong>Current Rank:</strong> Lieutenant Junior Grade Nico is determined to be the best. He demands perfection not only from himself but everyone around him. To him, failure is not an option and it will never be. He is either the perfect soldier or he is nothing. Appearance: Nico is lean and tone in build. His skin is a warm beige in colour and his hair, side parted with one half slicked back, is dark brown. He keeps his hair neat and his fringe curls lightly over his forehead. He has calculating, monolid eyes and a small nose that wrinkles whenever his lip curls up in disdain. He dislikes how pretty he is. <strong>Relationship</strong> /* render the player's relationship bar */ <<showmeter '$nicorelationshipBar' `$nicorelationship / $maxnicoRelationship`>> [[Back|Characters]]

<h1>Codex</h1>\ <h2>[[Glossary]]</h2>\ A guide to definitions and explanations for specific words and world-building aspects. <<back Return>>

“I am ready for my next assignment, Commander.” Your parade rest is perfect. Your shoulders are back, spine straight and hands clasped behind you. Your feet are aligned with your shoulders and you have a determined look on your face. Commander Strang raises an eyebrow at your confident tone, a brief flash of befuddlement crossing his face before his expression returns to normal. “I’ll be honest, I was concerned that you may need my guidance as your first mission was outside the parameters of what an academy student should deal with.” “It just gave me a taste of what to expect when I graduate, Commander.” Your eyes never leave the Commander’s, “It also gave me the reassurance that I have the skills to complete missions and handle myself on the field.” The Commander seems to carefully consider your words, his eyes never quite meeting your own. “I see. You will make for a fine soldier once you graduate.” Commander Strang takes out his holopad and you watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang’s voice has a distracted tone as he continues to type on his holopad, an intense look of concentration on his face. When he hears no movement, he looks up from his holopad with a cocked eyebrow, This is me dismissing you from your briefing. Go save lives, Green foot.” [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

<fieldset>\ Enter your Surname: <<textbox "$surname" "">> </fieldset>\ Identifying individual... Processing... Constructing profile... [[Open Inventory]] <<set $noname to false>> <<set $namesurname to true>>

This game would not be possible without the help of the interactive fiction community. The following people helped make this game possible with the creation of their macros and templates: ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/meter-macros ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/notify-macro ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/pronoun-templates ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/simple-inventory https://twine.pier17.cc/customizer/ <<back Return>>

"Do not push or shove, There is enough space for everyone, follow our instructions and you will be able to board and leave safely!" Nico's firm voice tries desperately to cut through the roar of the crowd but his words fall on deaf ears as more and more bodies push against the barriers, the yellow walls straining under their weight. One man is leading the pack, his eyes wide and hands frantic as he claws at the barrier, leg thrust over the yellow wall as he tries to pitch himself forward. Astrid, who was tailing you, rushes forward to help Nico restrain the thrashing man. His fist narrowly misses Nico's nose, the frustrated student dodging back at the last second. "Sir! Please, you need to calm down!" "I swear if you swing at my sister I will-" A scuffle breaks out as the two try to restrain the man without hurting him. They are forced to drag him across the barrier, his body thrashing in their arms as he wriggles and writhes, kicking up dust and spitting venomously at the twins. Two students you vaguely recognise from your class looks back in panic, unable to help as they stand in front of the barrier preventing anyone else from jumping across. "I need to be with my wife, You useless brats are keeping me from my wife!" Astrid flinches as his hand swipes across her face, Nico grunting as all the man's weight is suddenly shifted onto him, her body moving instinctively away. "Your wife is on the emergency medical helicopter, only those who need immediate medical attention can board!" The man continues to fight, ignoring Nico's words. The situation is quickly growing out of control, the man's actions riling up the crowd, so you make a snap decision. You move to help Nico hold the man up, one arm wrapping around the man's while your other arm and hand move to hold his face. You force his face to turn to meet yours, eyes locking. "Hey, hey, look at me." Your inject as much warmth and reassurance as you can into your voice, expression open and soft even as spittle splashes across your face as he keeps ranting, his face flushed with anger and fear. "I know you're scared and worried, I can see it in your face," You squeeze his face gently, forcing him to focus on your words. "But we're going to get your wife the medical treatment she needs, she will be okay. I wish I could allow you on that helicopter but other people who are injured need the space. People who have loved ones just like you." The thrashing and writhing fades away as your words wash over the man, his body slumping into Nico and your arms. Nico and you grunt as the man becomes like dead weight, the two of you struggling to keep him upright. Out of the corner of your eye you see Astrid move to help but hesitation flashes across her face and she pulls back her hand, her face pale and lips pursed tight. Nico looks at her with furrowed brows and his brown eyes darting anxiously over her. "I can take it from here. Go help the others." You pretend to not notice his anxiety, "You were already helping with the evacution before I arrived, you can get everyone moving faster. I'll join once I have him settled." Nico's lips part in surprise before he forcibly schools his expression into something calmer. "Thank you," the words are nothing more than a whisper, but his grateful nod is loud. After lowering the man to the floor, you turn to face the crowd, "Please line up behind your allocated helicopter wall. If we all work together we can ensure that everyone is evacuated and receives the necessary medical attention. I promise that we will escort you all to safety." The crowd moves to follow your instructions, the once tense air dissipating as Nico, who after talking softly to Astrid, straightens his shoulders and marches towards the crowd, barking instructions and moving people into their correct zones. Astrid trails after him, helping but keeping a large distance from the crowd, using Nico as a shield. She shoots you her own grateful nod when she catches your eye as the two of you move patients to the emergency medical helicopter. [[Continue|S-Class Attack]] <<set $astridrelationship +=5>> <<set $nicorelationship +=5>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\

The journey to EVAC C was completed without any further incident. You were met with hundreds of civilians being corralled by your classmates and soldiers, the air tense as people fought with the helpers. Terse voices were demanding answers and while most stopped at words some were starting to get rowdy and like a tsunami you watched as the mass of people were drawing close and pushing forward to crash against the helicopter pad barrier. Elbows and hands were flailing out, seeking a buoy to keep them afloat during the tidal surge, when suddenly a voice cut through the panic. You see a man, dressed in the same navy-blue tactical uniform as yourself, step forward with a holopad in hand. His pink lips are lifted in a faint sneer as he looks over the now silent and still mass. “I advise all of you to calm down and listen. Charging the barrier will yield no results. Each citizen has been assigned a district and shelter and unless you know which helicopter has been allocated to that location, you are better off listening for your name and lining up where we instruct you.” His words are said in a crisp, matter-of-fact tone and his stony expression leaves no room for negotiations. It is not long before the crowd disperses, those displeased left to mutter under their breath as they search for the soldier or academy volunteer with their name. Before you could follow their example to find your new assignment you hear your name called out by the same man who just settled the crowd. “$surname, you are tardy. Handling of districts one to three evacuees was originally meant to be your assignment. Resources had to be stretched even thinner to accommodate for your slacking.” <fieldset>\ [[• Sincerely apologise for the delay|• Sincere V2]] [[• Crack a joke while apologising|• Joke V2]] [[• Roll your eyes and make a sarcastic remark|• Roll V2]] [[• Ignore him and get your new assignment|• Ignore V2]] </fieldset>\

!! Click to Proceed @@.by-line;by [[Cyrus Firheir|https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros/tree/master/click-to-proceed]]@@ <p>This set of macros/functions aims to provide an easy way to set up content that is revealed bit-by-bit via user interaction.</p>\ <fieldset>\ <legend>Example</legend>\ <<ctp "testID">> Click next to show a new line of text. <<ctpNext>> Click again to reveal the next line... after 2 seconds. <<ctpNext 2s>> Now click again to reveal more text in this line. <<ctpNext nobr>> The next one will clear the text. <<ctpNext clear>> That is all. <</ctp>> <<link "Next">> <<ctpAdvance "testID">> <</link>> <<link "Back">> <<ctpBack "testID">> <</link>> </fieldset>\ \

!! Meter Macro Set @@.by-line;by [[ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/meter-macros]]@@ <p>A set of macros and JavaScript APIs for creating and working with dynamic, animated meters. Useful for creating things like health bars, progress meters, and visual timers.</p>\ <fieldset>\ <legend>Example</legend>\ <<set $health to 63, $maxHealth to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$healthBar' `$health / $maxHealth`>> <<link 'Drink a potion.'>> <<set $health to Math.clamp($health + 25, 0, $maxHealth)>> <<updatemeter '$healthBar' `$health / $maxHealth`>> <</link>> <<link 'Take damage.'>> <<set $health to Math.clamp($health - random(10, 25), 0, $maxHealth)>> <<updatemeter '$healthBar' `$health / $maxHealth`>> <</link>> </fieldset>\ \

!! Notify Macro @@.by-line;by [[ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/notify-macro]]@@ <p>This macro pops a message up that slides out from the right side of the screen, a short notification that's less distracting than a dialog or alert, for things like inventory changes, experience gains, or even achievements.</p>\ <fieldset>\ <legend>Example</legend>\ <<notify 5s 'inventory-update'>>Example notification.<</notify>>\ <<link 'Notify me!'>><<notify 2s 'inventory-update'>>You have been notified.<</notify>><</link>> </fieldset>\ \

!! Pronoun Templates @@.by-line;by [[ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/pronoun-templates]]@@ <p>This script leverages SugarCube 2's new template markup and API to create a complete, user configurable pronoun system.</p>\ <fieldset>\ <legend>Example</legend>\ ?He <<verb 'is'>> on the way. ?She<<verb "'s" "'re">> pretty cool. ?He <<verb 'ran'>> away. ?She <<verb 'goes'>> to the beach all the time. </fieldset>\ \

!! Simple Inventory System @@.by-line;by [[ChapelR|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/simple-inventory]]@@ <p>The simple inventory allows Twine authors to create and manipulate array-based inventories for 'key' style items (as opposed to consumables or equipment). For a more advanced inventory plugin check the <em>Universal Inventory System</em> script.</p>\ <fieldset>\ <legend>Example</legend>\ <<newinventory '$playerInventory'>>\ You find a large door. <<if $playerInventory.has('key')>>You use the old key to open the door.\ <<else>>You can't open the door without a key.<</if>> <<pickup '$playerInventory' 'key'>>You find an old key. <<if $playerInventory.has('key')>>You use the old key to open the door.\ <<else>>You can't open the door without a key.<</if>> </fieldset>\ \ \

“Sir, I need you to not move while I treat you. You will aggravate your injuries and make it impossible for me to provide medical assistance. I understand that you are in pain but only by listening to me will I be able to stop that pain.” Your tone is professional and your eyebrows and mouth relaxed. The man shakily nods before squeezing his eyes shut and restraining his movements as best he can, his hands trembling at his sides as he clenches his fists. You work quickly, placing ice packs onto his fractured ribs and then using an alcohol swab to clean his arm. “You will feel a small poke,” you say before administering the shot. “Done. I will give you some painkillers and then you can rest.” You carefully prop his head up and feed him sips of water and two painkillers. He gives you a shaky smile and a hoarse thank you. It isn’t long before he passes out, adrenaline finally fading and leaving only exhaustion in him. “You handled him well,” The corners of Astrid’s mouth are raised slightly and her voice soft. “Thank you,” you start to clean up your area. You throw away the used syringe into the hazard bin and throw away your gloves. You see Astrid do the same, her own gloves joining yours in the trash. You work together to clean your area and pack away your supplies. A comfortable silence forming between you and Astrid. There is a moment of respite as you see no new patients immediately enter your arranged area. A lull has fallen over the medical area, the once dense crowd has scattered with only a few pockets of space crowded by families clumped together. You watch as the medics are able to catch their breath and compile reports to be sent with the patients, the white coats moving freely between the tarps and cots. Astrid is busy with her own reports, her holopad hovering in front of her and illuminating her face in a soft blue light. You open your mouth to ask Astrid if she needs any further help when you hear it, the loud whirring noise of multiple helicopters approaching. Bodies move frantically as they clear the area and dust lifts and whirls around as the powerful blades cut through the air and approach the landing zone. You squint your eyes as you watch helicopter after helicopter land and military personnel rush to begin the evacuation proceedings. [[An electronic chime is heard from your holopad]] <<set $folkhero +=5>>\ <<set $astridrelationship +=3>>\

<h1>Glossary</h1> <b>Anima Weapon</b> - Weapons forged from the blood of the user. The blood is accumulated over the four years of their training in the academy. <b>Azish</b> - The name of the planet where ‘The Soulforge Order’ takes place. <hr> <b>Class System</b> - The government uses a class system for the exilliums as a method of classifying the threat level of the creatures. <i>Class C</i> - The exilliums are considered a low threat level. They are still mindless and use swarming tactics. Their appearance is more beast-like and are able to be handled by a single Soulforge unit. <i>Class B</i> - They are seen as a medium threat level. The exilliums start to display a range of different tactics now, knowing how to set up ambushes and how to take advantage of situations. A single Soulforge unit can still battle them but a second unit needs to be on standby. <i>Class A</i> - This is a high threat level. The exilliums show abilities beyond increased strength and speed. They are able to manipulate elements, create illusions or other unique skills not seen before. Two Soulforge units are required to engage a threat of this level with another unit on standby. <i>Class S</i> - The exilliums that are rated as an S Class are seen as a critical threat. Cities need to be evacuated and multiple Soulforge units need to engage the enemy. These exilliums are not only able to use unique skills but they also show the ability to command other exilliums and the intelligence to use siege tactics. <hr> <b>Contact War</b> - The period of time where humans first discovered exilliums and started to fight against them. <b>Dauntless</b> - The largest warship in the Voxis navy and is responsible for guarding the veil tear. They protect Voxis from exilliums that pour through the veil and ensure that other ships have safe passage through that area of the sea. <b>Dimension Storage ‘DS’</b> - A cube with an interior space considerably larger than its outside dimensions. The military provides academy students and military officers these storage devices when they are out in the field. <b>EVAC</b> - Military term for Evacuation. <b>FNG</b> - Military slang for Fucking New Guys. Use it to refer to newcomers. <b>Exilliums</b> - Creatures from across the veil who wreak havoc across Azish. While there is no set appearance for exilliums, there are common traits that they all share. They all have wisps of black smoke writhe around them and they all have gold slit pupils and black irises. <hr> <b>Old Gods</b> - A pantheon of nearly forgotten gods that were once worshiped by the people of Azish. The Old Gods retreated from the mortal realm when mankind found their faith shifting to their technological advancements. A lot of the faith has been lost to time. <i>Thaden</i> - God of Justice and Judgement. <i>All Mother/Destia</i> - Goddess of Life and Divination <hr> <b>Soulforge</b> - An elite warrior who kills exilliums. <b>Soulforge Order</b> - A government created organisation that specialises in battling and researching exilliums. <b>Steeltown Stacks</b> - one of the lower ring districts of Voxis that is dedicated to the manufacturing of steel. <b>Thaden’s Truth</b> - A group of insurgents who wish to bring back the Old Gods as they believe it is the only way to truly rid Azish of exilliums. <b>Thaden’s Eye</b> - Reportedly a terrorist group. It has been said that they wish to bring back the Old Gods and are willing to bomb areas in order to be heard and taken seriously. A fringe group of Thaden’s Truth. <b>Veil</b> - The barrier that separates Azish from the otherworld plane that exilliums come from. It is speculated that the Old Gods created the veil to protect Azish. <b>Veil tear</b> - an area where exilliums are able to enter into Azish. <b>Voxis</b> - The capital city of Strize, the country where the game takes place in. Voxis is where the main Soulforge Order hub resides for Strize. [[Back|Codex]]

You simply hold your hand out, awaiting the holopad with your assignment on it, face stoic under his gaze. You see him raise his eyebrows and his mouth open before he seems to think better of it and passes the holopad to you. His eyes never leave your face, seemingly searching for something as they linger on the relaxed lines of your face. You give him a single nod before taking the holopad and stepping away, eyes already focused on reading through the data. There is an awkward beat of silence before you watch him make a swift escape, his gait stiff as he walks towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You caught a glance of his name before his departure, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. “What a lovely display of camaraderie amongst the newest recruits! Brings a tear to the eye.” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Report to Will|Save Mother Report]] <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

"Do not push or shove, There is enough space for everyone, follow our instructions and you will be able to board and leave safely!" Nico's firm voice tries desperately to cut through the roar of the crowd but his words fall on deaf ears as more and more bodies push against the barriers, the yellow walls straining under their weight. One man is leading the pack, his eyes wide and hands frantic as he claws at the barrier, leg thrust over the yellow wall as he tries to pitch himself forward. Astrid, who was tailing you, rushes forward to help Nico restrain the thrashing man. His fist narrowly misses Nico's nose, the frustrated student dodging back at the last second. "Sir! Please, you need to calm down!" "I swear if you swing at my sister I will-" A scuffle breaks out as the two try to restrain the man without hurting him. They are forced to drag him across the barrier, his body thrashing in their arms as he wriggles and writhes, kicking up dust and spitting venomously at the twins. Two students you vaguely recognise from your class looks back in panic, unable to help as they stand in front of the barrier preventing anyone else from jumping across. "I need to be with my wife, You useless brats are keeping me from my wife!" Astrid flinches as his hand swipes across her face, Nico grunting as all the man's weight is suddenly shifted onto him, her body moving instinctively away. "Your wife is on the emergency medical helicopter, only those who need immediate medical attention can board!" The man continues to fight, ignoring Nico's words. The situation is quickly growing out of control, the man's actions riling up the crowd, so you make a snap decision. You grab the man's arm and wrench it back, kicking his legs from under him. He lands with a crunch and cry as his face hits the ground. The crowd falls silent as the man tries to break your hold but you push your knee into the small of his back, pining him down. Your voice is like ice when you speak. "The more you struggle and fight against us, the less time your wife has. Every second you waste, it is a second your wife could have been receiving medical treatment. So either comply with us or watch your wife die." Your knee presses down harder on the word die, emphasising your point. "I'm sorry! Please, save my wife!" The man sobs out, red dust staining his snot and tear streaked face, his body falling slack under your knee. "I didn't want her to be alone, please save her." His hoarse voice repeats the words over and over again, following you even as you release his arm and step away. You turn to face the crowd. "Please line up behind your allocated helicopter wall, we will ensure that everyone is evacuated and receives the necessary medical attention. If you allow us to do our jobs, we will protect you all." The crowd moves to follow your instructions, their eyes darting between the man and you, wary and hushed whispers filling the tense air. Nico, who was talking softly to Astrid, shoots you a grateful nod before straightening his shoulders and marches towards the crowd, barking instructions and moving people into their correct zones. Astrid trails after him, helping but keeping a large distance from the crowd, using Nico as a shield. You notice that she avoids eye contact with you even as the two of you move patients to the emergency medical helicopter together. [[Continue|S-Class Attack]] <<set $nicorelationship +=5>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\

“What can I say, the flowers were especially lovely this time of the year and I absolutely had to stop and smell them on my way back.” The joke rolls smoothly from your lips, a wide grin and wink accompanying the words. However, it seems your joke went unappreciated as the man’s stony expression remains uncracked. “Well, while you were picking flowers we were busy saving lives here. It would be appreciated if you could endeavor to do the same.” “Are you angry because I didn’t bring back any for you? I was going to but I got distracted helping out a mother and child.” The holopad in his hand is pushed into your chest and you watch as he makes a swift escape, his gait stiff as he walks towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You think you may have seen the tips of his ears turning a faint red but it could have been a trick of the light. You caught his name before he walked off, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. You hear a low whistle from behind, “Managed to catch him off guard, huh?” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Report to Will|Save Mother Report]] <<set $nicorelationship +=5>> <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

<strong>Age:</strong> 22 <strong>Height:</strong> 5'10" <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 3115/06/16 <strong>Current Rank:</strong> Lieutenant Junior Grade Astrid is the twin sister of Nico and can often be found writing in the journal she keeps available at all times. While more hospitable than her brother, people still find it difficult to connect with Astrid. Her blank expression and stilted manner of speaking seems to make people wary. Appearance: Astrid has warm beige skin and dark brown hair that is pulled back into an elegant bun. Her fluffy bangs frame her face. She has a lean figure and her darting, monolid eyes are always evaluating people. Astrid and Nico share the same soft, delicate features. When they were younger they were often mistaken for each other. <strong>Relationship</strong> /* render the player's relationship bar */ <<showmeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridRelationship`>> [[Back|Characters]]

The DS swiftly validates your credentials and takes you to the inventory screen where a message is displayed at the top of the screen reading, Welcome $name, what would you like to withdraw? You rapidly scroll past all the supplies given to you by the academy and instructors until you come to the last pulsefire beacon. Pressing the pulsefire beacon icon you hear a faint whirring sound as the cube expands, pieces sliding and twisting out until a small hole becomes visible in the centre of the cube. A sharp gust of air is released as the pulsefire beacon is ejected from the cube. Your hiding spot becomes even more cramped as the beacon springs into existence. The beacon produces a faint blue light and fills the space with a low hum. Looking over the beacon you see that the outer shell seems to be made of some kind of steel-like material with no key pad or screen embedded into it. There are only three blue lights on the side of the beacon and a special handle on the top. The handle is able to be used for carrying and for the activation of the beacon. You recall the rough voice of your instructor as you examine the beacon. "Just twist the handle and then push it in. If you mess that up well, I won’t be dealing with you for much longer." You remember the nervous laughter that followed his callous words. [[Continue|Retrieve Beacon]]

You grab his hand and place it on the cuff of your pants leg, gently guiding his hand to grip the material. “Hey, can you feel that? I need you to focus on the material in your hand. Pull it, twist it, do whatever you want to vent your pain out but you are only allowed to move your hand.” You speak in a soothing voice, encouraging his desperate grasp to center himself. “Focus on your hand and I’ll do my best to fix you up as quickly as I can. I promise that when I’m done you will feel much better.” You see him give a jerky nod, his eyes wide and trusting as he purses his lips and digs his fingers into the material. You murmur reassurances and smile as you work quickly, placing ice packs onto his fractured ribs and then using an alcohol swab to clean his arm. “Just a small poke, we’re almost done,” you say before administering the shot. “Great job! Your reward for listening is some painkillers,” you give him a grin as you help to prop him up and feed him two painkillers and some water. He gives you a shaky smile and a hoarse thank you. It isn’t long before he passes out, adrenaline finally fading and leaving only exhaustion in him. “You handled him well,” The corners of Astrid’s mouth are raised slightly and her voice soft. “Just trying to help as best I can,” you start to clean up your area. You throw away the used syringe into the hazard bin and throw away your gloves. You see Astrid do the same, her own gloves joining yours in the trash. You work together to clean your area and pack away your supplies. A comfortable silence forming between you and Astrid. There is a moment of respite as you see no new patients immediately enter your arranged area. A lull has fallen over the medical area, the once dense crowd has scattered with only a few pockets of space crowded by families clumped together. You watch as the medics are able to catch their breath and compile reports to be sent with the patients, the white coats moving freely between the tarps and cots. Astrid is busy with her own reports, her holopad hovering in front of her and illuminating her face in a soft blue light. You open your mouth to ask Astrid if she needs any further help when you hear it, the loud whirring noise of multiple helicopters approaching. Bodies move frantically as they clear the area and dust lifts and whirls around as the powerful blades cut through the air and approach the landing zone. You squint your eyes as you watch helicopter after helicopter land and military personnel rush to begin the evacuation proceedings. [[An electronic chime is heard from your holopad]] <<set $folkhero +=5>> <<set $astridrelationship +=3>>\

<div align="center"><h1>USER PROFILE</h1></div> <hr> <strong>Name:</strong> <<if $noname is true>> ??? <<elseif $namesurname is true>> $name $surname <</if>> <strong>Age:</strong> 22 <strong>Height:</strong> ??? <strong>Hair colour:</strong> <<if $nohaircolour is true>> ??? <<elseif $yeshaircolour is true>> $haircolour <</if>> <strong>Eye colour:</strong> <<if $noeyecolour is true>> ??? <<elseif $yeseyecolour is true>> $eyecolour <</if>> <strong>Skin colour:</strong> <<if $noskincolour is true>> ??? <<elseif $yesskincolour is true>> $skincolour <</if>> <strong>Body type:</strong> <<if $nobodytype is true>> ??? <<elseif $yesbodytype is true>> $bodytype <</if>> <strong>Background</strong>: <<if $nobackground is true>> ??? <<elseif $militarybackground is true>>Military<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is true>>Wastelander<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>Orphan<</if>>\ <hr>\ <fieldset>\ <legend><h3>Skills:</h3></legend>\ <strong>Tactician</strong> - Someone who prefers to use logic and strategy to work through obstacles and combat encounters. They rely on their cunning and intellect. /* render the player's skills bar */ <<showmeter '$tacticianBar' `$tactician / $maxtactician`>> <strong>Combatant</strong> - Someone who prefers a head on approach to obstacles and combat encounters. They rely on their instincts and combat experience. /* render the player's skills bar */ <<showmeter '$combatBar' `$combat / $maxcombat`>> <strong>Soldier</strong> - You are focused on your mission and duty. You are ready to make the tough choices for the greater good. /* render the player's skills bar */ <<showmeter '$soldierBar' `$soldier / $maxsoldier`>> <strong>Folk Hero</strong> - You wish to help others even if it risks your larger goals or missions. You can't look away from injustice or suffering. /* render the player's skills bar */ <<showmeter '$folkheroBar' `$folkhero / $maxfolkhero`>> <strong>Leadership</strong> - Represents whether you are able to lead a squadron. Shows your ability to guide, motivate, and inspire people to work together. /* render the player's skills bar */ <<showmeter '$playerleadershipBar' `$playerleadership / $maxplayerleadership`>> </fieldset>\ <<back Return>>

<h1>Prologue</h1> The earth shakes beneath your feet and piercing howls of steel and glass threaten to distract you from your frantic search for shelter. You duck and weave past the groaning buildings, the structures contorting and twisting as large creatures smash into them repeatedly. These creatures, ones you have been trained to recognise as exilliums, appear as hulking primates. Their pitch black fur gives off smoky wisps that writhe around them, almost as if they were alive. They tear into the buildings with unbridled glee, sharp canines biting into glass and steel without fear, eager to squeeze through the gaps they have created to get to the screaming humans inside. Your feet almost slide from under you as you make a mad dash for an upended shuttle, the thrusters visible even as it lies half buried into a wall. You slide through the small gap, pressing your back into the wall and your feet against the shuttle, shuffling until you aren’t visible from the street but have a clear sightline of the chaos. The pounding of your heart is almost loud enough to drown out the desperate pleas for help in the distance. It was never meant to be like this, it was meant to be a simple evacuation mission. How did it go so wrong? Your class was in the middle of a training exercise when the siren went off. An S-Class threat was seen rapidly moving towards one of the outer ring districts and the military called for all available fourth year cadets to move out and help with the evacuation process in the area. You remember feeling: <fieldset>\ [[• Terrified at the prospect of facing a S-Class exillium]] [[• Excited at jumping into action and proving yourself]] [[• Worried about the people caught in the fray]] [[• Angry that you were being forced to risk your life]] [[• Neutral. You knew this would happen eventually.]] </fieldset>\

Pulsefire beacons once activated create large, electric domes. A signal is sent from beacon to beacon and once all beacons have synced they release electrical wires that connect with beacons near them, creating a dome that cycles electrical surges. Exlliums are unable to pass through the dome and if an attempt is made, they are rendered paralysed by the strong electrical currents. The beacons are essential in limiting the casualties and collateral damage of exilliums and buying time for backup. You twist your body to the side, your back scraping against the wall behind you, as you struggle to pull out your DS. Dimension storage, nicknamed DS by soldiers and cadets, it is a small, dark blue cube with a small groove on one of the faces. A soft beeping sound is heard as the cube scans the thumb you press into the groove. Soon after a holo-screen pops up, asking to confirm your identity by stating your name and service number. <fieldset>\ Enter your first name: <<textbox "$name" "">> [[Confirm First Name]]. </fieldset>\ [[View Name Suggestions]]

Your eyes fall to your hands, examining the slightly worn and dirtied leather gloves. You could not see any blood, yet you could imagine them stained. “I desperately want to believe that I did the right thing. I want to believe that I will never be wrong as long as I follow my orders and complete my missions. I understand that soldiers must always focus on the greater good.” “I know this,” your nails dig painfully into the leather, “yet I can’t stop myself from wondering if I could have saved them. If I could have found a way to complete the mission and prevent them from dying.” You choke on the words, your mind spitting them out faster than you could articulate them. Your hand reaches for your throat but it is halted, the rough calluses on the hand gripping your own snapping your focus back to Commander Strang. He gently lowers your hand and when he speaks his voice is soft, “Do not lose yourself in what ifs. It is a dangerous road that good people have lost themselves on. Instead focus on what you did right.” He gives your hand a squeeze, his hand warm, before letting it go. “You will be forced to make difficult decisions as a soldier and the only thing you can do is ensure that the choices you are making are ones you believe in. As long as you believe in them, they are worth fighting for.” His words are firm and you can see reassurance in his eyes. You watch as his hand falls to his hip, dropping from where it was previously hovering near your hand, bringing out his holopad. With the holopad out, you watch as watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. Occasionally he will check on you out of the corner of his eye, sending a small but comforting smile along with the eye darts. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang closes his holopad and turns to face you fully once again and his voice softens, "This also gives you the chance to remember what you have protected through your actions." He pushes you gently towards the medical tents. [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]] <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

Your eyes fall to your hands, examining the slightly worn and dirtied leather gloves. You could not see any blood, yet you could imagine them stained. “I know that I did the right thing. I followed my orders and ensured that I could keep our soldiers and those already rescued safe. I am protecting the needs of the many instead of selfishly endangering them in hopes of saving two.” “I know this,” your nails dig painfully into the leather, “and now I need to figure out how to deal with the weight of my decision. I regret being unable to save the mother and child but I know I would have regretted not completing the mission more." Your throat tightens and your chest heaves as you squeeze out the last of your words, "I couldn’t risk the chance of endangering everyone else.” The voices and activity of others became like faint noise as silence stretches between you and the Commander. The silence is like a web, trapping and suspending your words in the air, forcing you to face them. The web is broken by Commander Strang’s words, “You don’t need to do it alone. Your comrades will bear the weight with you. Every day we have to make difficult choices and that is another act of protection. We stain our hands so that they don’t have to. We are protecting more than you think.” His voice is soft and you can feel the rough calluses on his hand as he lays it on your shoulder in reassurance. He squeezes your shoulder gently before his hand falls to his hip, bringing out his holopad. With the holopad out, you watch as watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. Occasionally he will check on you out of the corner of his eye, sending a small but comforting smile along with the eye darts. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang closes his holopad and turns to face you fully once again and his voice softens, "This also gives you the chance to remember what you have protected through your actions." He pushes you gently towards the medical tents. [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]] <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

You lift your head, lips pursed and eyes now intently focused on Commander Strang’s. “I feel guilty. I wish there were other options but I know that at the end of the day I chose what I believed was the best for the city and its people. And if I went back in time, I am likely to make the same choice.” The voices and activity of others became like faint noise as silence stretches between you and the Commander. The silence is like a web, trapping and suspending your words in the air, forcing you to face them. You release a long exhale, “I will make the same choice because I believe I did the right thing. I must think of the many, not just those immediately in front of me.” The Commander seems to carefully consider your words and for a second you swear you saw the wisp of a smile. “I see. I look forward to seeing the kind of soldier you will become.” Commander Strang takes out his holopad and you watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang’s voice has a distracted tone as he continues to type on his holopad, an intense look of concentration on his face. When he hears no movement, he looks up from his holopad with a cocked eyebrow, This is me dismissing you from your briefing. Go save lives, Green foot.” [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]] <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

He cuts an imposing figure in the signature red and black tactical gear of a soulforge. His nano-armour fits snug against his muscular frame, showing off his broad shoulders and highlighting the lines of muscle on his arms, legs and torso. His confidence can be seen in the lazy way he examines his surroundings, eyes sharp but expression playful and hands relaxed around his anima knuckle dusters. It is the first time you have gotten to see an anima weapon in person. The instructors have photos and holographic models for examination but it is completely different in person. You can see the movement of blood around the weapon, the crimson colour a sharp contrast to the cool metal formed by the nanobots. You heard of how Commander Strang uses knuckle dusters as his weapon of choice to complement his brawler fighting style. You have seen videos and blown up shots of his fights. His black black wavy hair dancing behind him while he throws punch after punch into the exilliums, his speed and power unlike any other who came before or after him. Now here he stands, waiting for you to report to him, his smile warm. “I couldn’t help but overhear that your return was delayed. Mind filling me in on the details?” <fieldset>\ [[• Report the events of your mission in a fully detailed and professional manner.]] [[• Show a guilty expression as you report the details of your mission.]] [[• Report the events of the mission with some hesitance.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $haveMetWill to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Will added<</notify>>\

You bring the beacon to your chest and lean out from your hiding spot, eyes scanning the area for activity. <i>I need to get moving. The last beacon needs to be planted and I have to report back</i>, you think as your eyes scan for any threats. According to your calculations, the beacon drop-off point is only five minutes away. If you were to move now, you would be able to safely plant the beacon and retreat back to the EVAC zone without wasting any time. However, just as you start to plot the best course you hear a terrified scream. Head snapping to the side you see a woman running down the street, a bundle tightly wrapped in her arms. “Help us, someone please help us!” Her voice breaks and her tears leave clear trails through the soot on her face, “save me and my baby!” Her next words and the baby’s screams are drowned out by the ferocious roar of the pursuing exillium. Strands of spit spray out from the mouth of the exillium as their jaw drops unnaturally low and they bound on all four towards the mother and child. <fieldset>\ <legend>Hearing the plea for help you</legend>\ [[• Instinctively move towards the mother and child. Your only thought is to save her and the child.]] [[• You curse at the sudden events and scramble to come up with a plan to save the mother child. You know better than to engage in direct combat but you are confident in your gadgets and mind.]] [[• You turn away from the woman and her child and hide further into the shadows. Your mind runs scenarios on the best way to plant the last beacon and escape undetected.]] [[• Using the woman and child as a distraction you rush towards the last beacon site. It is unfortunate but the mission comes first and the last beacon has to be placed above all else.]] </fieldset>\

“Apologies, I should have asked the exilliums to stop attacking civilians so I could return back for my assignment faster. I’ll remember that next time I am engaged with one.” You roll your eyes and tap your head with two fingers, shaking your head in a mocking self-depreciative manner. You see the man straighten his already perfect posture as he fixes you with a steely glare, his brown eyes filled with frustration. “If you are done mocking me, there is work to be done.” The holopad in his hand is pushed roughly into your chest and you watch as he makes a swift escape, his gait stiff and his hands clenched tightly at his side, as he walks towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You caught his name before he stomped away, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. You hear a low whistle from behind, “Starting off strong with your comrades I see.” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Report to Will|Save Mother Report]] <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

Only one helicopter was left to fill with civilians, the evacuation process moving smoothly after the initial hiccup. However, the peace was not meant to last. It started as a small tremor, barely noticeable, but then the earth began to crack and convulse violently. Looking to the dome, the only barrier between you and the frenzied exillium, you spot sparks erupting off the surface and the dome beginning to flicker in and out of existence under the relentless assault of the creatures. Their roars and screeches that were once muted by the barrier have started to pierce through. You can hear the muffled cries for blood as they continuously ram into it, the pain from the electricity forgotten even as their skin smokes and burns at the intense voltage. The world slows to a crawl as you feel your heart beat grow louder and louder, blood rushing into your ears and muffling the pleas of the officers to move faster. Yet you are unable to draw your eyes away from the creature that has appeared, the once ravenous exilliums bowing and cowering as they part to make way for the towering serpent that cuts through with gleaming gold eyes. The exillium blots out the sun, standing as tall as an apartment building with scales that ripple and shimmer under the sun, the plating condensed tightly across its body. The serpent opens its mouth and you see rows of large teeth before a ball of fire is spat at the barrier. The barrier splatters and cries out as you watch it flicker rapidly, valiantly fighting against the torrential firestorm being spewed by the serpent. The exilliums roar and beat against the earth, muscles coiled in anticipation as they cheer on the assault. The world's sound and movements rushing back all at once as you finally tear your eyes away from the scene and rush to help the last of the civilians evacuate, dread settling into your very bones. [[Continue|Will combat]]

He cuts an imposing figure in the signature red and black tactical gear of a soulforge. His nano-armour fits snug against his muscular frame, showing off his broad shoulders and highlighting the lines of muscle on his arms, legs and torso. His confidence can be seen in the lazy way he examines his surroundings, eyes sharp but expression playful and hands relaxed around his anima knuckle dusters. It is the first time you have gotten to see an anima weapon in person. The instructors have photos and holographic models for examination but it is completely different in person. You can see the movement of blood around the weapon, the crimson colour a sharp contrast to the cool metal formed by the nanobots. You heard of how Commander Strang uses knuckle dusters as his weapon of choice to complement his brawler fighting style. You have seen videos and blown up shots of his fights. His black black wavy hair dancing behind him while he throws punch after punch into the exilliums, his speed and power unlike any other who came before or after him. Now here he stands, waiting for you to report to him, his smile warm. “I couldn’t help but overhear that your return was delayed. Mind filling me in on the details?” <fieldset>\ [[• Explain without shame how you saved a mother and child but failed to complete your original mission objective.]] [[• Show a slightly ashamed expression while explaining how you saved a mother and child but failed to complete your original mission objective.]] [[• Explain in a matter of fact tone how you saved a mother and child but failed to complete your original mission objective.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $haveMetWill to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Will added<</notify>>\

“Sorry for causing trouble and thank you for helping cover my section until I could arrive.” You smile and stretch your hand out to receive the holopad in his hand, ready to jump into the assignment and make up for lost time. He seems startled by your sincerity, his eyes moving to look above your head as he passes the holopad to you, his cheeks taking on a faint red tinge. “Of course. It is expected of a good soldier. I couldn’t simply let things go awry in your absence,” he says in a slightly higher pitch before clearing his throat and returning back to his previous crisp timbre. “Well, I do believe you have things covered here. I will be returning to my post.” He gives a stiff nod before walking towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You caught his name before he walked off, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. “Nicely handled, Junior. Something tells me that he isn’t used to genuine kindness.” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Report to Will|Save Mother Report]] <<set $nicorelationship +=5>> <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

For four years you have trained to join the Soulforge Order. Only the Soulforged can hold back the exilliums who seek to destroy everything. The time is at hand to take a stand as secrets, long hidden, are revealed. The Soulforge Order is a sci-fi fantasy text-based game about becoming an elite warrior that helps to protect the world of Azish. In this world, the once powerful Gods who ruled over Azish have fallen, replaced by mankind’s growing reliance on technology. How will you stand against the exillium and who will be at your side? This game is rated M - Mature and will have content that may be suitable for persons ages 17 and older. The game may contain mature sexual themes, intense violence and/or strong language. [[Start|Prologue]]

Salt

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$reluctantadmiral to false>> <<set $noadmiral to false>> <<set $topstudent to false>> <<set $mediocrestudent to false>> <<set $badstudent to false>> <<set $nohaircolour to true>> <<set $yeshaircolour to false>> <<set $noeyecolour to true>> <<set $yeseyercolour to false>> <<set $noskincolour to true>> <<set $yesskincolour to false>> <<set $nobodytype to true>> <<set $yesbodytype to false>> <<set $nobackground to true>> <<set $militarybackground to false>> <<set $orphanbackground to false>> <<set $wastelanderbackground to false>> <<set $daggerleadership to false>> <<set $daggerteamplayer to false>> <<set $spearleadership to false>> <<set $spearteamplayer to false>> <<set $swordshieldleadership to false>> <<set $swordshieldteamplayer to false>> <<set $traininglonewolf to false>> <<set $zandrleadership to false>> <<set $zandrteamplayer to false>> <<set $zandrlonewolf to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $huntingspear to false>> <<set $huntingrifle to false>> <<set $communefriendly to false>> <<set $communepolite to false>> <<set $communerude to false>> <<set $communeawkward to false>> <<set $believeinoldgods to false>> <<set $scepticaloldgods to false>> <<set $lostoldgodfaith to false>> <<set $echo to false>> <<set $hesitate to false>> <<set $staysilent to false>> <<set $theobestfriend to false>> <<set $theofriend to false>> <<set $theoacquaintance to false>> <<set $theochildhoodcrush to false>> <<set $theo_obliviouscrush to false>> <<set $moonnecklace to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $pinkelephant to false>> <<set $bluedog to false>> <<set $promilitaryorphan to false>> <<set $antimilitaryorphan to false>> <<set $unsuremilitaryorphan to false>> <<set $playerparkour to false>> <<set $playergrapple to false>> <<set $spencergrapple to false>> <<set $spencerparkour to false>> <<set $tryingtoreason to false>> <<set $willingtofollow to false>> <<set $noleave to false>> <<set $yesleave to false>> <<set $longwait to false>> <<set $fringequestion to false>> <<set $peoplesupport to false>> <<set $followcaptain to false>> <<set $spencerromance to false>> <<set $spencerfamily to false>> <<set $MCterrorist to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Set statements for chapter two ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $arahesitatetouch to false>> <<set $attackinfo to false>> <<set $howsurvive to false>> <<set $exilliumspeak to false>> <<set $askwillexilspeak to false>> <<set $militarycarepackage to false>> <<set $wastelandercarepackage to false>> <<set $orphancarepackage to false>> <<set $wastelanderlettertell to false>> <<set $wastelanderletteravoid to false>> <<set $herosweater to false>> <<set $promisevisitkids to false>> <<set $nopromisevisitkids to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $firstcampday to false>> <<set $secondcampday to false>> <<set $tentcombat to false>> <<set $blockarumours to false>> <<set $tenttactician to false>> <<set $southattackrumours to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $theofiresidechat to false>> <<set $asktheopft to false>> <<set $asktheohmw to false>> <<set $asktheojso to false>> <<set $firesidechat to false>> <<set $coldfirechat to false>> <<set $curiousfirechat to false>> <<set $notsurefirechat to false>> <<set $worshipgods to false>> <<set $storiestell to false>> <<set $theomave to false>> <<set $theopst to false>> <<set $theojso to false>> <<set $oyjaname to false>> <<set $matjoacademiesinfo to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $explorecamp to false>> <<set $twincampnice to false>> <<set $twincamptense to false>> <<set $speakastrid to false>> <<set $astridjso to false>> <<set $astridwtsti to false>> <<set $astridpst to false>> <<set $nicocampcomment to false>> <<set $twintransfer to false>> <<set $twinproblem1 to false>> <<set $nicows to false>> <<set $astridleftconvo to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $speaknico to false>> <<set $nicojso to false>> <<set $nicowtsti to false>> <<set $nicopst to false>> <<set $nicowstm to false>> <<set $nicoleftconvo to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<set $observecave to false>> <<set $caveinfo to false>> <<set $batoncave to false>> <<set $dronecave to false>> <<set $cutonhand to false>> <<set $dronegone to false>> <<set $cutonarm to false>> <<set $batongone to false>> <<set $hoverblue to false>> <<set $hoverred to false>> <<set $hovergreen to false>> <<set $hoverpurple to false>> <<set $destiatether to false>> <<set $thadentether to false>> <<set $feldirtether to false>> <<set $ukmistether to false>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Relationship meters ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player relationships */ <<newmeter '$astridrelationshipBar'>> <<label '$astridrelationship'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's relationship */ <<set $astridrelationship to 0, $maxastridRelationship to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridRelationship`>> <<showmeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridRelationship`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player relationships */ <<newmeter '$nicorelationshipBar'>> <<label '$nicorelationship'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's relationship */ <<set $nicorelationship to 0, $maxnicoRelationship to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$nicorelationshipBar' `$nicorelationship / $maxnicoRelationship`>> <<showmeter '$nicorelationshipBar' `$nicorelationship / $maxnicoRelationship`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player relationships */ <<newmeter '$willrelationshipBar'>> <<label '$willrelationship'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's relationship */ <<set $willrelationship to 0, $maxwillRelationship to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$willrelationshipBar' `$willrelationship / $maxwillRelationship`>> <<showmeter '$willrelationshipBar' `$willrelationship / $maxwillRelationship`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player relationships */ <<newmeter '$ararelationshipBar'>> <<label '$ararelationship'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's relationship */ <<set $ararelationship to 0, $maxaraRelationship to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$ararelationshipBar' `$ararelationship / $maxaraRelationship`>> <<showmeter '$ararelationshipBar' `$ararelationship / $maxaraRelationship`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player relationships */ <<newmeter '$minarelationshipBar'>> <<label '$minarelationship'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's relationship */ <<set $minarelationship to 0, $maxminaRelationship to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$minarelationshipBar' `$minarelationship / $maxminaRelationship`>> <<showmeter '$minarelationshipBar' `$minarelationship / $maxminaRelationship`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player relationships */ <<newmeter '$theorelationshipBar'>> <<label '$theorelationship'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's relationship */ <<set $theorelationship to 0, $maxtheoRelationship to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$theorelationshipBar' `$theorelationship / $maxtheoRelationship`>> <<showmeter '$theorelationshipBar' `$theorelationship / $maxtheoRelationship`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Skills ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player skills */ <<newmeter '$tacticianBar'>> <<label '$tactician'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's skills */ <<set $tactician to 0, $maxtactician to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$tacticianBar' `$tactician / $maxtactician`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player skills */ <<newmeter '$combatBar'>> <<label '$combat'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's skills */ <<set $combat to 0, $maxcombat to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$combatBar' `$combat / $maxcombat`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player skills */ <<newmeter '$soldierBar'>> <<label '$soldier'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's skills */ <<set $soldier to 0, $maxsoldier to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$soldierBar' `$soldier / $maxsoldier`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player skills */ <<newmeter '$folkheroBar'>> <<label '$folkhero'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's skills */ <<set $folkhero to 0, $maxfolkhero to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$folkheroBar' `$folkhero / $maxfolkhero`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Feeding Anger Meter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for feeding anger */ <<newmeter '$feedangerBar'>> <<label '$feedanger'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the feed anger */ <<set $feedanger to 0, $maxfeedanger to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$feedangerBar' `$feedanger / $maxfeedanger`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Leadership meters ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for nico leadership */ <<newmeter '$nicoleadershipBar'>> <<label '$nicoleadership'>> <</newmeter>> /* setting up a meter for nico leadership */ <<set $nicoleadership to 0, $maxnicoleadership to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$nicoleadershipBar' `$nicoleadership / $maxnicoleadership`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for player leadership */ <<newmeter '$playerleadershipBar'>> <<label '$playerleadership'>> <</newmeter>> /* change the player's leadership */ <<set $playerleadership to 0, $maxplayerleadership to 100>>\ <<showmeter '$playerleadershipBar' `$playerleadership / $maxplayerleadership`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Romance Flag meters ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for theo romance flags */ <<newmeter '$theoromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$theoromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change theo's romance flag */ <<set $theoromanceflag to 0, $maxtheoromanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$theoromanceflagBar' `$theoromanceflag / $maxtheoromanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$theoromanceflagBar' `$theoromanceflag / $maxtheoromanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for Nico romance flags */ <<newmeter '$nicoromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$nicoromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change nico's romance flag */ <<set $nicoromanceflag to 0, $maxnicoromanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$nicoromanceflagBar' `$nicoromanceflag / $maxnicoromanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$nicoromanceflagBar' `$nicoromanceflag / $maxnicoromanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for astrid romance flags */ <<newmeter '$astridromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$astridromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change astrid's romance flag */ <<set $astridromanceflag to 0, $maxastridromanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$astridromanceflagBar' `$astridromanceflag / $maxastridromanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$astridromanceflagBar' `$astridromanceflag / $maxastridromanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for will romance flags */ <<newmeter '$willromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$willromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change will's romance flag */ <<set $willromanceflag to 0, $maxwillromanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$willromanceflagBar' `$willromanceflag / $maxwillromanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$willromanceflagBar' `$willromanceflag / $maxwillromanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for mina romance flags */ <<newmeter '$minaromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$minaromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change mina's romance flag */ <<set $minaromanceflag to 0, $maxminaromanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$minaromanceflagBar' `$minaromanceflag / $maxminaromanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$minaromanceflagBar' `$minaromanceflag / $maxminaromanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for ara romance flags */ <<newmeter '$araromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$araromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change ara's romance flag */ <<set $araromanceflag to 0, $maxararomanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$araromanceflagBar' `$araromanceflag / $maxararomanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$araromanceflagBar' `$araromanceflag / $maxararomanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* setting up a meter for spencer romance flags */ <<newmeter '$spencerromanceflagBar'>> <<label '$spencerromanceflag'>> <</newmeter>> /* change spencer's romance flag */ <<set $spencerromanceflag to 0, $maxspencerromanceflag to 50>>\ <<showmeter '$spencerromanceflagBar' `$spencerromanceflag / $maxspencerromanceflag`>> <<showmeter '$spencerromanceflagBar' `$spencerromanceflag / $maxspencerromanceflag`>>

[[Profile]] [[Characters]] [[Codex]] [[Credits]]

“If you don’t stop moving you will worsen your injuries and that will cause unnecessary trouble for the medics here,” your eyebrows are lowered and your lips pursed. The man looks up with wide eyes, his mouth open and his forehead beaded with sweat. “It-it hurts,” his voice cracks and he groans as he shifts on the tarp. “And it will continue to hurt if you don’t stop moving. Either you follow my instructions or I leave you on this tarp untreated, your choice.” The man’s jaw drops before he frantically shakes his head. “Please, I’ll listen,” you watch him shut his eyes and restrain his movements as best he can, his hands trembling at his sides as he clenches his fists. You work quickly, placing ice packs onto his fractured ribs and then using an alcohol swab to clean his arm. You administer the shot wordlessly, moving smoothly between tasks. Next you lift his head and place two painkillers at his lips and feed him water. He swallows the painkillers, avoiding your eyes, then lays back down. It isn’t long before he passes out, adrenaline finally fading and leaving only exhaustion in him. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of Astrid’s face. The corners of her mouth are drawn down and eyebrows furrowed, her eyes narrowed as she watches you. When you turn to face her fully her expression has changed back to an expressionless mask. She simply gives you a nod before finishing her own task. You throw away the used syringe into the hazard bin and throw away your gloves. You see Astrid do the same, her own gloves joining yours in the trash. You work together to clean your area and pack away your supplies. An uncomfortable silence forming between you and Astrid. There is a moment of respite as you see no new patients immediately enter your arranged area. A lull has fallen over the medical area, the once dense crowd has scattered with only a few pockets of space crowded by families clumped together. You watch as the medics are able to catch their breath and compile reports to be sent with the patients, the white coats moving freely between the tarps and cots. Astrid is busy with her own reports, her holopad hovering in front of her and illuminating her face in a soft blue light. You open your mouth to ask Astrid if she needs any further help when you hear it, the loud whirring noise of multiple helicopters approaching. Bodies move frantically as they clear the area and dust lifts and whirls around as the powerful blades cut through the air and approach the landing zone. You squint your eyes as you watch helicopter after helicopter land and military personnel rush to begin the evacuation proceedings. [[An electronic chime is heard from your holopad]] <<set $astridrelationship -=2>> <<updatemeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridrelationship`>> <<set $soldier +=5>>\

You watch the man writhe on the ground, his forehead beaded with sweat and face lined with agony, and find the best area to restrain him. You decide to place your shin across his collarbone, exerting enough force to keep him still under you but without risking damage to his throat or ribs. The man’s eyes widen and instinctively raises his arms to push you off. However, his attempts are weak and you are able to batter his arms away easily. You are crouched above him, face stoic as you quickly place ice packs onto his fractured ribs and then use an alcohol swab to clean his arm. You trapped the arm under your own to get access to clean it and with it restrained you are able to administer the shot. The man opens his mouth to speak but you use the opportunity to place two painkillers into his mouth and hold a bottle of water to his mouth. He almost chokes, the painkillers bouncing against the front of your hand as you place your hand in front of his mouth to prevent it from exiting. Your hand does not move far until he sips the water and shows you his empty mouth. Job done, you sit up and watch as he shakily lays down and avoids your eyes. It isn’t long before he passes out, adrenaline finally fading and leaving only exhaustion in him. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of Astrid’s face. The corners of her mouth are drawn down and eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as she watches you. “I suggest you work on your bedside manner.” You cannot see her facial expression now, her back turned to you as she starts to clean up her area, but her tone is cold. You throw away the used syringe into the hazard bin and throw away your gloves. You see Astrid do the same, her own gloves joining yours in the trash. You work together to clean your area and pack away your supplies. An uncomfortable silence forming between you and Astrid. There is a moment of respite as you see no new patients immediately enter your arranged area. A lull has fallen over the medical area, the once dense crowd has scattered with only a few pockets of space crowded by families clumped together. You watch as the medics are able to catch their breath and compile reports to be sent with the patients, the white coats moving freely between the tarps and cots. Astrid is busy with her own reports, her holopad hovering in front of her and illuminating her face in a soft blue light. You open your mouth to ask Astrid if she needs any further help when you hear it, the loud whirring noise of multiple helicopters approaching. Bodies move frantically as they clear the area and dust lifts and whirls around as the powerful blades cut through the air and approach the landing zone. You squint your eyes as you watch helicopter after helicopter land and military personnel rush to begin the evacuation proceedings. [[An electronic chime is heard from your holopad]] <<set $astridrelationship -=5>> <<updatemeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridrelationship`>> <<set $soldier +=5>>\

<h2>Masculine Names</h2> \Hakim Mandla Darius Jayden Xavier \ <h2>Feminine Names</h2> \Leah Warona Lesedi Alizea Suhana \ <h2>Neutral Names</h2> \Aubrey Carter Dakota Remi Wrenn [[Return|Pulsefire Beacon]]

“Last helicopter has left, all personnel to EVAC C, shuttles are ready for deployment! I repeat, shuttles are ready for deployment!” <<if $plantbeacon is true>> “Commander Strang, quadrant four has been successfully cleared and the soldiers have made it back safely. We have reinforcements for EVAC C.” <<elseif $plantbeacon is false>> “Commander Strang, quadrant four fell first to the exillium siege. Ranger Louw was unable to plant the beacon in time and we have lost contact with him. We are on our own, no reinforcements.”<</if>>\ The soldiers are shouting to be heard over the hissing barrier and roaring exilliums, faces pale as they usher their comrades and academy students to run to EVAC C. A fleet of military shuttles await them, the drivers given last minute orders on a new route to take for escape. You rush forward, your eyes picking out Nico and Astrid in the distance but they are quickly swallowed into the wave of bodies. You can see the shuttles on the horizon when there is loud pop followed by the earth tearing apart. You fight to keep on your feet as the ground explodes, bursting open and sending a network of uneven cracks all across the earth. Students and soldiers alike scream in fear as they watch their friends dragged into the depths of the earth and buried. “MOVE, THE S-CLASS HAS BURROWED PAST THE BARRIER!” Air whips against your face as you barely see the form of Commander Strang sprint back, his eyebrows furrowed and teeth gritted as he jumps and flips over the jagged landscape and towards the rapidly approaching serpent. The earth rises and falls like crashing waves as the serpent pushes the earth out as it moves underground until it erupts like a geyser, debris and sand spraying violently as it lunges at Commander Strang. [[Continue|Chapter One Start]]

<strong>Age:</strong> 25 <strong>Height:</strong> 6'2" <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 3112/05/14 <strong>Current Rank:</strong> Commander The poster boy for the Soulforge Order. He is what every Soulforge soldier wants to be and what every civilian believes a hero is. His charisma and confidence makes him the perfect leader. He is almost too perfect; what lurks behind his cheerful persona? Appearance: He has golden brown skin and black wavy hair that is half tied back and half left free, resting just above his shoulders. His almond shaped eyes are dark brown and he has a chiseled jaw. His muscular frame is imposing with broad shoulders and lines of muscle clear through his clothes but it is offset by his cheerful grin. <strong>Relationship</strong> /* render the player's relationship bar */ <<showmeter '$willrelationshipBar' `$willrelationship / $maxwillRelationship`>> [[Back|Characters]]

“$name $surname, a pleasure to meet you,” you shoot a wink and smile at Astrid after your introduction. “I was originally deployed to quadrant four and evacuation management but with the shortage of personnel I was lucky enough to be assigned here with you. A gift from the universe I am sure.” You were hoping for a response of some kind but you aren’t too sure what to do with her choice to take out a small notebook from her pocket. Her lips twitch downwards before she returns to her previous stoic expression. You watch her left hand move across the notebook, the black fountain pen elegant in its strokes. As quickly as the notebook appeared, it disappeared. There is a loud grunt alerting you and Astrid to the presence of two soldiers with a man on a stretcher. “John Doe picked up on the outskirts, other medics said to deliver him here. He needs his ribs iced, a tetanus shot and his left leg needs stitches.” They lower the stretcher parallel to the tarp and Astrid and your hands help to carefully maneuver the man onto the tarp. You can see his face wrinkle in pain, eyes shut tightly and a low, muffled groan escaping his gritted teeth. You and Astrid jump into action, your first aid training from the academy kicking in as soon as the man has been placed on the tarp. You gently pull up his shirt and prod his ribs, examining his bruised skin even as he tries to twist away from your hands. Astrid is working on his left leg at the same time, cutting his pants so she can get to his skin and clean it before stitching it. You contemplate the best approach to administering the injection and icing his ribs as you watch him writhe on the tarp. You need to get him to lay still in order to do your job. You decide to: <fieldset>\ [[• Persuade the man with encouragement]] [[• Explain the situation calmly]] [[• Tell the man firmly]] [[• Use force to restrain him]] </fieldset>\ <<set $notebookdadunclear to true>>

“Lovely to meet you Astrid,” you speak with a jovial and kind tone, “I am $name $surname. I look forward to working together. I am in Class 3 and I was originally deployed in quadrant four but I was moved here since there is a personnel shortage.” You smile as you share your information. Astrid gives a simple nod before reaching into her pocket and taking out a small notebook and black fountain pen. A faint smile appears as she bows her head to write into it. As quickly as the notebook appeared it disappeared. When she lifts her head her expression has returned back to its blank state. There is a loud grunt alerting you and Astrid to the presence of two soldiers with a man on a stretcher. “John Doe picked up on the outskirts, other medics said to deliver him here. He needs his ribs iced, a tetanus shot and his left leg needs stitches.” They lower the stretcher parallel to the tarp and Astrid and your hands help to carefully maneuver the man onto the tarp. You can see his face wrinkle in pain, eyes shut tightly and a low, muffled groan escaping his gritted teeth. You and Astrid jump into action, your first aid training from the academy kicking in as soon as the man has been placed on the tarp. You gently pull up his shirt and prod his ribs, examining his bruised skin even as he tries to twist away from your hands. Astrid is working on his left leg at the same time, cutting his pants so she can get to his skin and clean it before stitching it. You contemplate the best approach to administering the injection and icing his ribs as you watch him writhe on the tarp. You need to get him to lay still in order to do your job. You decide to: <fieldset>\ [[• Persuade the man with encouragement]] [[• Explain the situation calmly]] [[• Tell the man firmly]] [[• Use force to restrain him]] </fieldset>\ <<set $notebookdaddisapproval to true>> <<set $astridrelationship +=5>> <<updatemeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridrelationship`>>

“$name $surname, Class 3, assigned planter and reassigned to medic assistant.” You reply confidently, quick in recalling your academy class and assignment information. Any good soldier is able to report information about themselves and their mission at the command of their superiors and out of courtesy to those in the military. Astrid gives a simple nod before reaching into her pocket and taking out a small notebook and black fountain pen. Her stoic expression never changes as she writes into it. As quickly as the notebook appeared, it disappeared. There is a loud grunt alerting you and Astrid to the presence of two soldiers with a man on a stretcher. “John Doe picked up on the outskirts, other medics said to deliver him here. He needs his ribs iced, a tetanus shot and his left leg needs stitches.” They lower the stretcher parallel to the tarp and Astrid and your hands help to carefully maneuver the man onto the tarp. You can see his face wrinkle in pain, eyes shut tightly and a low, muffled groan escaping his gritted teeth. You and Astrid jump into action, your first aid training from the academy kicking in as soon as the man has been placed on the tarp. You gently pull up his shirt and prod his ribs, examining his bruised skin even as he tries to twist away from your hands. Astrid is working on his left leg at the same time, cutting his pants so she can get to his skin and clean it before stitching it. You contemplate the best approach to administering the injection and icing his ribs as you watch him writhe on the tarp. You need to get him to lay still in order to do your job. You decide to: <fieldset>\ [[• Persuade the man with encouragement]] [[• Explain the situation calmly]] [[• Tell the man firmly]] [[• Use force to restrain him]] </fieldset>\ <<set $notebookdadapproval to true>>

“$name $surname,” You speak in a brusque tone as you move over to the medical supplies. You quickly sanitise your hands and put on gloves, prepared for the next patient. Out of the corner of your eye you see Astrid reaching into her pocket and taking out a small notebook and black fountain pen. Her stoic expression never changes as she writes into it. As quickly as the notebook appeared it disappeared. There is a loud grunt alerting you and Astrid to the presence of two soldiers with a man on a stretcher. “John Doe picked up on the outskirts, other medics said to deliver him here. He needs his ribs iced, a tetanus shot and his left leg needs stitches.” They lower the stretcher parallel to the tarp and Astrid and your hands help to carefully maneuver the man onto the tarp. You can see his face wrinkle in pain, eyes shut tightly and a low, muffled groan escaping his gritted teeth. You and Astrid jump into action, your first aid training from the academy kicking in as soon as the man has been placed on the tarp. You gently pull up his shirt and prod his ribs, examining his bruised skin even as he tries to twist away from your hands. Astrid is working on his left leg at the same time, cutting his pants so she can get to his skin and clean it before stitching it. You contemplate the best approach to administering the injection and icing his ribs as you watch him writhe on the tarp. You need to get him to lay still in order to do your job. You decide to: <fieldset>\ [[• Persuade the man with encouragement]] [[• Explain the situation calmly]] [[• Tell the man firmly]] [[• Use force to restrain him]] </fieldset>\ <<set $notebookdadapproval to true>>

“Hey, look at us! We’re both from the academy, wearing the same uniform…” You pause as you try to think of other things to bond over, “... Assigned to the medical zone.” You lift your hands up in a hesitant thumbs up gesture, your smile difficult to maintain under the growing silence. You eventually drop your hands and head under the oppressive silence and mumble, “My name is $name $surname.” You are examining the ground intently when you hear a rustling sound. Lifting your head up you see Astrid take a small notebook out alongside a black fountain pen. You see a faint smile as she writes in it. As quickly as the notebook appeared it disappeared. There is a loud grunt alerting you and Astrid to the presence of two soldiers with a man on a stretcher. “John Doe picked up on the outskirts, other medics said to deliver him here. He needs his ribs iced, a tetanus shot and his left leg needs stitches.” They lower the stretcher parallel to the tarp and Astrid and your hands help to carefully maneuver the man onto the tarp. You can see his face wrinkle in pain, eyes shut tightly and a low, muffled groan escaping his gritted teeth. You and Astrid jump into action, your first aid training from the academy kicking in as soon as the man has been placed on the tarp. You gently pull up his shirt and prod his ribs, examining his bruised skin even as he tries to twist away from your hands. Astrid is working on his left leg at the same time, cutting his pants so she can get to his skin and clean it before stitching it. You contemplate the best approach to administering the injection and icing his ribs as you watch him writhe on the tarp. You need to get him to lay still in order to do your job. You decide to: <fieldset>\ [[• Persuade the man with encouragement]] [[• Explain the situation calmly]] [[• Tell the man firmly]] [[• Use force to restrain him]] </fieldset>\ <<set $notebookdaddisapproval to true>> <<set $astridrelationship +=5>> <<updatemeter '$astridrelationshipBar' `$astridrelationship / $maxastridrelationship`>>

The journey to EVAC C was completed without any further incident. You were met with hundreds of civilians being corralled by your classmates and soldiers, the air tense as people fought with the helpers. Terse voices were demanding answers and while most stopped at words some were starting to get rowdy and like a tsunami you watched as the mass of people were drawing close and pushing forward to crash against the helicopter pad barrier. Elbows and hands were flailing out, seeking a buoy to keep them afloat during the tidal surge, when suddenly a voice cut through the panic. You see a man, dressed in the same navy-blue tactical uniform as yourself, step forward with a holopad in hand. His pink lips are lifted in a faint sneer as he looks over the now silent and still mass. “I advise all of you to calm down and listen. Charging the barrier will yield no results. Each citizen has been assigned a district and shelter and unless you know which helicopter has been allocated to that location, you are better off listening for your name and lining up where we instruct you.” His words are said in a crisp, matter-of-fact tone and his stony expression leaves no room for negotiations. It is not long before the crowd disperses, those displeased left to mutter under their breath as they search for the soldier or academy volunteer with their name. Before you could follow their example to find your new assignment you hear your name called out by the same man who just settled the crowd. “$surname, you are tardy. Handling of districts one to three evacuees was originally meant to be your assignment. Resources had to be stretched even thinner to accommodate for your slacking.” <fieldset>\ [[• Sincerely apologise for the delay]] [[• Crack a joke while apologising]] [[• Roll your eyes and make a sarcastic remark]] [[• Ignore him and get your new assignment]] </fieldset>\

You say goodbye to Commander Strang, who gives his own two finger salute in response, and leave for your new assignment. It is a battle to wade through the crowd, fighting against the current of the bodies as they all force themselves into the small space in hopes of receiving help. People are laid out on the floor, gasping out in pain and pleading with the medics. A strong metallic smell cuts through the air and forces you to breathe through your mouth. A woman in a white coat stained with blood and dirt stumbles in front of you, lines of exhaustion clear on her face. “Are you $surname?” You nod and watch as some of her tension falls away, “Great. I need you to go help Wu, she is an academy student like you and is responsible for the blue patients. If any patients are found to be incorrectly evaluated and require a red or orange tag immediately call it in and have them passed to a senior medic.” She talks fast and you are forced to keep up with her brisk walk through the medical zone, the crowd parting before her as she leads you to a young woman. The woman has warm beige skin and dark brown hair that is pulled back into an elegantly braided bun, strands of hair sneaking out of the bun to frame her face as her brown eyes focus on the young boy she is tending to. She has soft delicate features and her pink lips are pulled into a gentle smile. “Astrid, we got a helper for you.” She looks up from her patient and you can’t help but note how Nico and her bear a striking resemblance to each other. They share the same soft, delicate face and lean figure. It would be easy to mistake them for the other if they tried. You are brought out of your thoughts by the medic patting your back and giving a rushed farewell as she goes back to her own work. Astrid greets you with a faint smile, giving you a small nod before returning her focus back to the young boy. She cleans the last of his injury, a shallow cut on his right arm, and speaks to him in a low and soothing voice to distract him from the pain. He gives her a bright smile once the bandage is in place and is led off by his thankful mother. She gives you her full attention now as you both wait for the next patient. “Astrid Wu, Class 1, assigned volunteer combat medic for today.” Her previous gentle demeanor has disappeared, replaced by a stoic face and dull tone. It is a strong contrast to the woman who was treating the young boy just moments ago. <fieldset>\ [[• You introduce yourself in a professional manner]] [[• You introduce yourself in a charming manner]] [[• You introduce yourself in an awkward manner]] [[• You introduce yourself in an arrogant manner]] [[• You introduce yourself in a friendly manner]] </fieldset>\ <<set $haveMetAstrid to true>>\ <<notify 5s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Astrid added<</notify>>\

You take a deep breath in and straighten your spine, pushing all negative thoughts out as you exhale. You clench your jaw and lock eyes with Commander Strang. Your choice may not have been what was best for the mission but it was made based on what you believe is right. You will never turn away from someone in need, it is not who you are. You feel the Commander's eyes watching you, his expression one of deep thought as his dark brown eyes scan you. "You won't always work alone. If you continue to think only of your ideals, you may find yourself living with greater consequences." His voice has hardened and his face carefully removed of any emotion. Commander Strang takes out his holopad and you watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang’s voice has a distracted tone as he continues to type on his holopad, an intense look of concentration on his face. When he hears no movement, he looks up from his holopad with a cocked eyebrow, This is me dismissing you from your briefing. Go save lives, Green foot.” [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

You force yourself to lock eyes with Commander Strang, no longer avoiding his gaze or words. You hear his words, you let them sit on your chest. You feel the weight of your choices, what it could mean for the soldier, but you bear the weight. You knew what it meant to forsake the mission and prioritise the mother and child. You knew that by saving them you could be risking your mission but that was a risk you were willing to take. You saw someone in danger and for you, it was not a choice to help or not, you will always protect those who need it. You feel the Commander's eyes watching you, his expression one of deep thought as his dark brown eyes scan you. "Be careful, there will be a time when your ideals could cause more harm than good. I hope you are as ready as you seem to believe you are." His voice is filled with caution. Commander Strang takes out his holopad and you watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang’s voice has a distracted tone as he continues to type on his holopad, an intense look of concentration on his face. When he hears no movement, he looks up from his holopad with a cocked eyebrow, This is me dismissing you from your briefing. Go save lives, Green foot.” [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

You clenched your jaw and hands, the strain of burying your anger reflecting in the muscles rippling and jumping under flesh. Your muscles squirmed as if they were fighting to spit the animosity you felt back at the robotic voice ordering you to the battlefield. Your gear and instructions were shoved at you, the instructors keeping a wary eye on you as they briefed you and your classmates. They warned you of the danger you will face and what to watch for, you absorbed it all, knowing that it was impossible to fight back against their orders. You will walk into battle; whether you like it or not. You were told that there weren’t enough soldiers to help with the evacuation process at Steeltown Stacks. The Steeltown Stacks is one of the lower ring districts and is dedicated to the manufacturing of steel to be used in construction projects. Only workmen and their families live in the district; the steel mills and refineries take up most of the would-be living space. Most people live in dizzyingly high apartment blocks with only the factory bosses able to afford houses further away from the factories and mills. Your class and three other fourth year cadet classes were deployed to help the soldiers to evacuate all civilians and plant pulsefire beacons. You were given quadrant four to sweep through and plant two pulsefire beacons in. If you ran into any civilians you were to tell them about the situation and instruct them on the location of the EVAC zone. Only once the last pulsefire beacon had been placed and the area clear of any civilians would you be able to return. However, it was made clear that your primary objective was to plant your pulsefire beacons. [[Continue|Pulsefire Beacon]]

“What can I say, the flowers were especially lovely this time of the year and I absolutely had to stop and smell them on my way back.” The joke rolls smoothly from your lips, a wide grin and wink accompanying the words. However, it seems your joke went unappreciated as the man’s stony expression remains uncracked. “Well, while you were picking flowers we were busy saving lives here. It would be appreciated if you could endeavor to do the same.” “No need to be bitter, I’ll remember to bring you some next time.” The holopad in his hand is pushed into your chest and you watch as he makes a swift escape, his gait stiff as he walks towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You think you may have seen the tips of his ears turning a faint red but it could have been a trick of the light. You caught his name before he walked off, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. You hear a low whistle from behind, “Managed to catch him off guard, huh?” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Continue|Report to Will]] <<set $nicorelationship +=5>> <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

Your body thrummed with barely contained excitement, mind racing with the possible scenarios of what you could face and the best way you could stand out from the others. This was your chance to show that you are the best in your class and you will not waste the opportunity. You eagerly rushed to the front of the line, grabbing your assignment and gear from your instructors. While listening to your orders you scanned over your class of thirty and could only spot a handful of people who look as prepared as yourself. You were told that there weren’t enough soldiers to help with the evacuation process at Steeltown Stacks. The Steeltown Stacks is one of the lower ring districts and is dedicated to the manufacturing of steel to be used in construction projects. Only workmen and their families live in the district; the steel mills and refineries take up most of the would-be living space. Most people live in dizzyingly high apartment blocks with only the factory bosses able to afford houses further away from the factories and mills. Your class and three other fourth year cadet classes were deployed to help the soldiers to evacuate all civilians and plant pulsefire beacons. You were given quadrant four to sweep through and plant two pulsefire beacons in. If you ran into any civilians you were to tell them about the situation and instruct them on the location of the EVAC zone. Only once the last pulsefire beacon had been placed and the area clear of any civilians would you be able to return. However, it was made clear that your primary objective was to plant your pulsefire beacons. [[Continue|Pulsefire Beacon]]

You fall into the parade rest and begin your report in a professional tone, “I was instructed to plant two pulsefire beacons in quadrant four and give directions to any civilians I encountered to the nearest EVAC zone. The first beacon was placed without any incident. However, I came across a mother and child being chased by an exillium during my final beacon.” There is no hesitance in your words and your face is impassive throughout the report. “I chose to engage with the enemy to ensure that the mother and child could escape. The beacon was destroyed during combat and when the exillium was neutralised, I escorted the mother and child to EVAC C.” The voices and activity of others became like faint noise under the heavy stare of Commander Strang as silence stretches between you. The silence is like a web, trapping and suspending your words in the air, forcing you to face them. His face remained calm throughout your report, no visible reaction to your obvious disobedience. “It is commendable that you faced down an exillium as an academy student. It takes great courage, or recklessness depending on who you ask,” the barest wisp of a smile makes its way to his lips, “to stare down such a formidable threat to save others.” His face shifts back to his previous serious expression. “One of the greatest qualities a soulforge can have is to be willing to fight for others,” his voice softens, “but as a soldier you also need to know how to effectively weigh the outcome of your choices. Because you have failed to plant the final pulsefire beacon the dome cannot be completed. I will need to send out a soldier on a last minute mission to correct your error.” You watch as he raises a hand to his ear, activating his earpiece and quickly barking out orders on the channel. “Have Ranger Louw head to quadrant four and plant an emergency beacon. Tell him it is a high priority mission and speed is the biggest factor.” While Commander Strang was giving orders you reflected on his words. <fieldset>\ <legend>You feel</legend>\ [[• Guilty but ultimately stand by your decision.]] [[• Guilty and starting to doubt yourself.]] [[• Resolute in your decision.]] [[• Understanding but firm in your decision.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

You straighten your posture, clasping your hands behind your back, before beginning your report. “I was instructed to plant two pulsefire beacons in quadrant four and give directions to any civilians I encountered to the nearest EVAC zone. The first beacon was placed without any incident. However, I came across a mother and child being chased by an exillium during my final beacon.” Your eyes meet Commander Strang’s without fear, chin raised defiantly as you continue, “I chose to engage with the enemy to ensure that the mother and child could escape. The beacon was destroyed during combat and when the exillium was neutralised, I escorted the mother and child to EVAC C.” The voices and activity of others became like faint noise under the heavy stare of Commander Strang as silence stretches between you. The silence is like a web, trapping and suspending your words in the air, forcing you to face them. His face remained calm throughout your report, no visible reaction to your obvious disobedience. “It is commendable that you faced down an exillium as an academy student. It takes great courage, or recklessness depending on who you ask,” the barest wisp of a smile makes its way to his lips, “to stare down such a formidable threat to save others.” His face shifts back to his previous serious expression. “One of the greatest qualities a soulforge can have is to be willing to fight for others,” his voice softens, “but as a soldier you also need to know how to effectively weigh the outcome of your choices. Because you have failed to plant the final pulsefire beacon the dome cannot be completed. I will need to send out a soldier on a last minute mission to correct your error.” You watch as he raises a hand to his ear, activating his earpiece and quickly barking out orders on the channel. “Have Ranger Louw head to quadrant four and plant an emergency beacon. Tell him it is a high priority mission and speed is the biggest factor.” While Commander Strang was giving orders you reflected on his words. <fieldset>\ <legend>You feel</legend>\ [[• Guilty but ultimately stand by your decision.]] [[• Guilty and starting to doubt yourself.]] [[• Resolute in your decision.]] [[• Understanding but firm in your decision.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

You feel your stomach churn as you think about the soldier that your actions have forced back into the frontline. Academy students were allowed to plant the beacons at the start of the invasion because a large bulk of the exilliums were being held back by soldiers and ensured that the quadrants entrusted to students were safe. However, your own experience showed that the soldiers were steadily losing ground and more of the city was being swarmed. The soldier was sure to be running straight into the enemy in order to place the final beacon and ensure that the dome could be activated correctly. It was dangerous and all because you failed to complete your mission. An onslaught of possibilities assault your mind, making it spin, as you consider the consequences of your actions. What if he fails to plant the beacon? Would you be responsible for his death if he were to die on the mission? Doubt starts to dig at the back of your mind, chipping away at your resolve. Before your thoughts could spiral further however, your thoughts are interrupted by Commander Strang's voice, "You will make a lot of tough decisions in the future. The key to not losing yourself is to keep pushing forward and not lose yourself to what ifs." His voice is soft and you can feel the rough calluses on his hand as he lays it on your shoulder in reassurance. He squeezes your shoulder gently before his hand falls to his hip, bringing out his holopad. With the holopad out, you watch as his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. Occasionally he will check on you out of the corner of his eye, sending a small but comforting smile along with the eye darts. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang closes his holopad and turns to face you fully once again and his voice softens, "This also gives you the chance to remember what you have protected through your actions." He pushes you gently towards the medical tents. [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

You feel your stomach churn as you think about the soldier that your actions have forced back into the frontline. Academy students were allowed to plant the beacons at the start of the invasion because a large bulk of the exilliums were being held back by soldiers and ensured that the quadrants entrusted to students were safe. However, your own experience showed that the soldiers were steadily losing ground and more of the city was being swarmed. The soldier was sure to be running straight into the enemy in order to place the final beacon and ensure that the dome could be activated correctly. It was dangerous and all because you failed to complete your mission. You push down the rising nausea and shake your head. You have made your choice and did what you believed to be right. The soldier has official training and tools to help him. The mother and child had neither, you were the only thing that stood between them and death. You don’t regret saving them. You feel the Commander's eyes watching you, his expression one of deep thought as his dark brown eyes scan you. As if finding what he was looking for he slowly nods, patting your shoulder with a callused hand. "You will make a lot of tough decisions in the future. The key to not losing yourself is to keep pushing forward and not lose yourself to what ifs." His hand drops to his hip as he reaches for his holopad. Bringing it out, you watch as watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. Occasionally he will check on you out of the corner of his eye, sending a small but comforting smile along with the eye darts.With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang closes his holopad and turns to face you fully once again and his voice softens, "This also gives you the chance to remember what you have protected through your actions." He pushes you gently towards the medical tents. [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

You simply hold your hand out, awaiting the holopad with your assignment on it, face stoic under his gaze. You see him raise his eyebrows and his mouth open before he seems to think better of it and passes the holopad to you. His eyes never leave your face, seemingly searching for something as they linger on the relaxed lines of your face. You give him a single nod before taking the holopad and stepping away, eyes already focused on reading through the data. There is an awkward beat of silence before you watch him make a swift escape, his gait stiff as he walks towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You caught a glance of his name before his departure, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. “What a lovely display of camaraderie amongst the newest recruits! Brings a tear to the eye.” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Continue|Report to Will]] <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

Your body moves forward without thought, your eyes focused on the mother and child. You roll out from under the shuttle, abandoning the beacon, and pull out your academy issued pulsefire baton all in one smooth movement. From the roll you seamlessly find your way to your feet and sprint towards the pair, swiftly cutting between the exillium and the terrified mother and child. Out of the corner of your eye you see the woman come to a stop, her body shaking and eyes wide. She seems torn on what to do, whether to trust you or to keep running. However, before she can make her choice, it is made for her by the exillium. The creature lets loose another piercing roar, spittle flying out as it leaps towards you. You crouch low, ready to engage, and out of the corner of your eye you see the woman take cover behind rubble, curled protectively around her baby. The exillium swings a large fist at your body, smoky wisps following like jet contrails: <fieldset>\ [[• You duck beneath the fist and jab rapidly at the creature’s body with your pulsefire baton]] [[• You jump back, creating distance between yourself and the creature, before sending electric blasts at the exillium through the baton.]] [[• You tap the baton twice against your hip as you roll to the side before leaping back at the creature, the baton now extended into a staff.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $folkhero +=5>>\ <<set $combat +=5>>\

You listened to the robotic voice with a faint sense of detachment, the nervous whispers and chatter of your classmates becoming muffled background noise. You always knew the day that you were to enter the battlefield would come, there was no avoiding such a fate. You briskly gathered your instructions and gear then made your way to your allocated transport. Your gaze focused and face calm, a stark contrast to most of the academy cadets around you. You were told that there weren’t enough soldiers to help with the evacuation process at Steeltown Stacks. The Steeltown Stacks is one of the lower ring districts and is dedicated to the manufacturing of steel to be used in construction projects. Only workmen and their families live in the district; the steel mills and refineries take up most of the would-be living space. Most people live in dizzyingly high apartment blocks with only the factory bosses able to afford houses further away from the factories and mills. Your class and three other fourth year cadet classes were deployed to help the soldiers to evacuate all civilians and plant pulsefire beacons. You were given quadrant four to sweep through and plant two pulsefire beacons in. If you ran into any civilians you were to tell them about the situation and give them directions to the EVAC zone. Only once the last pulsefire beacon had been placed and the area clear of any civilians would you be able to return. However, it was made clear that your primary objective was to plant your pulsefire beacons. [[Continue|Pulsefire Beacon]]

You curl around the woman and child, using your body as a shield, protecting them from the sudden surge of electricity and its flying sparks. You hear as the exillium crashes into the electrical net, howls of pain bouncing off the walls of the alleyway as the exillium thrashes and bites at its electrical prison. The pitons have created an electrical cage, entrapping the exillium. The creature’s fur burns as it repeatedly slams against its new prison, frantically trying to free itself. The ground and walls shake at its continuous assault. You prepare to cut a hole into the wall to go back for the beacon but as your plasma cutter begins to cut through, the exillium crashes into the wall once more and you hear a loud crash. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as you watch through the cage as the beacon shatters beneath the collapsed shuttle. However, you don’t have time to mourn the lost beacon. If you stay any longer, the exillium may be able to shake one of the pitons free, breaking the cage. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You need to move quickly before the cage is broken. “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

Your posture never falters, even under the weight of both Commander Strang’s words and gaze. Your chin remains held up, resolute. Your choice may not have been what was best for the mission but it was made based on what you believe is right. You will never turn away from someone in need, it is not who you are. You feel the Commander's eyes watching you, his expression one of deep thought as his dark brown eyes scan you. "You won't always work alone. If you continue to think only of your ideals, you may find yourself living with greater consequences." His voice has hardened and his face carefully removed of any emotion. Commander Strang takes out his holopad and you watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang’s voice has a distracted tone as he continues to type on his holopad, an intense look of concentration on his face. When he hears no movement, he looks up from his holopad with a cocked eyebrow, This is me dismissing you from your briefing. Go save lives, Green foot.” [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

“Apologies for the delay, I should have just sprouted wings and flown across the destroyed city to get to my location faster. I’ll ask the military to get on that right away so you won’t be inconvenienced again.” You roll your eyes and tap your head with two fingers, shaking your head in a mocking self-depreciative manner. You see the man straighten his already perfect posture as he fixes you with a steely glare, his brown eyes filled with frustration. “If you are done mocking me, there is work to be done.” The holopad in his hand is pushed roughly into your chest and you watch as he makes a swift escape, his gait stiff and his hands clenched tightly at his side, as he walks towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You caught his name before he stomped away, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. You hear a low whistle from behind, “Starting off strong with your comrades I see.” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Continue|Report to Will]] <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

You lower your head, keeping your eyes locked onto the boots of the Commander as you begin your report. “I was instructed to plant two pulsefire beacons in quadrant four and give directions to any civilians I encountered to the nearest EVAC zone. The first beacon was placed without any incident. However, I came across a mother and child being chased by an exillium during my final beacon.” There is a beat of silence. You struggle to formulate your thoughts, the next sentences coming out in a stilted manner. “I evaluated the situation and realised that the timetable for the mission would be disrupted or I could risk failure if I engaged so I chose to abandon the mother and child. I mapped a new route through the city and planted the beacon. I rushed back to EVAC zone C once the mission was completed.” For a second you see Commander Strang’s eyebrows furrow before they instantly smooth out and he gives you a nod of approval. “Well done, you did the right thing by prioritising the mission. We are facing a S class threat and we need every advantage possible against it.” Commander Strang is looking at you yet it feels like he is looking past you; towards the city. “This was your first mission, I’m sure you were not expecting to face something like this on your first outing. How are you feeling?” His eyes are now entirely focused on you, his attention fixed onto you. You carefully consider his words before replying: <fieldset>\ [[• Regret but know you did the right thing.]] [[• Regret and can’t help but wonder if there was another way.]] [[Reinforce your principles]] </fieldset>\

You clasp your hands behind your back, hiding the tremors from the Commander’s eyes, before beginning your report. “I was instructed to plant two pulsefire beacons in quadrant four and give directions to any civilians I encountered to the nearest EVAC zone. The first beacon was placed without any incident. However, I came across a mother and child being chased by an exillium during my final beacon.” You struggle to maintain eye contact with Commander Strang’s as you continue, “I chose to engage with the enemy to ensure that the mother and child could escape. The beacon was destroyed during combat and when the exillium was neutralised, I escorted the mother and child to EVAC C.” The voices and activity of others became like faint noise under the heavy stare of Commander Strang as silence stretches between you. The silence is like a web, trapping and suspending your words in the air, forcing you to face them. His face remained calm throughout your report, no visible reaction to your obvious disobedience. “It is commendable that you faced down an exillium as an academy student. It takes great courage, or recklessness depending on who you ask,” the barest wisp of a smile makes its way to his lips, “to stare down such a formidable threat to save others.” His face shifts back to his previous serious expression. “One of the greatest qualities a soulforge can have is to be willing to fight for others,” his voice softens, “but as a soldier you also need to know how to effectively weigh the outcome of your choices. Because you have failed to plant the final pulsefire beacon the dome cannot be completed. I will need to send out a soldier on a last minute mission to correct your error.” You watch as he raises a hand to his ear, activating his earpiece and quickly barking out orders on the channel. “Have Ranger Louw head to quadrant four and plant an emergency beacon. Tell him it is a high priority mission and speed is the biggest factor.” While Commander Strang was giving orders you reflected on his words. <fieldset>\ <legend>You feel</legend>\ [[• Guilty but ultimately stand by your decision.]] [[• Guilty and starting to doubt yourself.]] [[• Resolute in your decision|• resolute2.]] [[• Understanding but firm in your decision|• understanding2.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

“Sorry for causing trouble and thank you for helping cover my section until I could arrive.” You smile and stretch your hand out to receive the holopad in his hand, ready to jump into the assignment and make up for lost time. He seems startled by your sincerity, his eyes moving to look above your head as he passes the holopad to you, his cheeks taking on a faint red tinge. “Of course. It is expected of a good soldier. I couldn’t simply let things go awry in your absence,” he says in a slightly higher pitch before clearing his throat and returning back to his previous crisp timbre. “Well, I do believe you have things covered here. I will be returning to my post.” He gives a stiff nod before walking towards a group of civilians that have flocked around a fellow academy volunteer. You caught his name before he walked off, the badge on his perfectly pressed uniform bearing the name Nico Wu. “Nicely handled, Junior. Something tells me that he isn’t used to genuine kindness.” You whip around, eyes wide as you take in the appearance of a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Your mouth opens, ready to ask how he snuck up on you, when you recognise him. It would be difficult not to, when his face is plastered all over the academy walls. His golden brown skin, almond shaped dark brown eyes and cocky grin just like the posters. William Strang, the youngest person to ever become a member of the soulforge order. His name was used by every instructor to inspire academy hopefuls. The military couldn’t have asked for a better poster boy. Not only was he incredibly skilled at taking down exilliums, he was also handsome enough to enchant those who were not drawn in by his military accolades. The perfect figure for the military to parade to the public. [[Continue|Report to Will]] <<set $nicorelationship +=5>>\ <<set $haveMetNico to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Nico added<</notify>>\

The woman slowly backs away, her mouth agape and arms trembling around her child as she watches you boldly swing out your arms, welcoming the exillium into your embrace. A sharp gasp escapes her mouth as the electrical cage surges into life as the exillium crosses the threshold. There is a howl of pain as the exillium thrashes and bites at its electrical prison. The pitons have entrapped it. The creature’s fur burns as it repeatedly slams against its new prison, frantically trying to free itself. The ground and walls shake at its continuous assault. You prepare to cut a hole into the wall to go back for the beacon but as your plasma cutter begins to cut through, the exillium crashes into the wall once more and you hear a loud crash. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as you watch through the cage as the beacon shatters beneath the collapsed shuttle. However, you don’t have time to mourn the lost beacon. If you stay any longer, the exillium may be able to shake one of the pitons free, breaking the cage. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You need to move quickly before the cage is broken. “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

Your body froze at the words and fear clawed at your mind. You weren’t ready, you haven’t even graduated yet and you were expected to appear on the battlefield? Your body had stiffly moved and joined your classmates in rushing for your gear and assignments; your worries nagging at every step. There were thirty cadets in your class and as you looked around at all their faces you saw that some looked just as scared as you. Their faces ashen and eyes blank as they followed the barking orders of the instructors. You were told that there weren’t enough soldiers to help with the evacuation process at Steeltown Stacks. The Steeltown Stacks is one of the lower ring districts and is dedicated to the manufacturing of steel to be used in construction projects. Only workmen and their families live in the district; the steel mills and refineries take up most of the would-be living space. Most people live in dizzyingly high apartment blocks with only the factory bosses able to afford houses further away from the factories and mills. Your class and three other fourth year cadet classes were deployed to help the soldiers to evacuate all civilians and plant pulsefire beacons. You were given quadrant four to sweep through and plant two pulsefire beacons in. If you ran into any civilians you were to tell them about the situation and instruct them on the location of the EVAC zone. Only once the last pulsefire beacon had been placed and the area clear of any civilians would you be able to return. However, it was made clear that your primary objective was to plant your pulsefire beacons. [[Continue|Pulsefire Beacon]]

You stubbornly keep your eyes locked onto Commander Strang’s. You hear his words, you let them sit on your chest. You feel the weight of your choices, what it could mean for the soldier, but you bear the weight. You knew what it meant to forsake the mission and prioritise the mother and child. You knew that by saving them you could be risking your mission but that was a risk you were willing to take. You saw someone in danger and for you, it was not a choice to help or not, you will always protect those who need it. You feel the Commander's eyes watching you, his expression one of deep thought as his dark brown eyes scan you. "Be careful, there will be a time when your ideals could cause more harm than good. I hope you are as ready as you seem to believe you are." His voice is filled with caution. Commander Strang takes out his holopad and you watch his fingers dance across it, the soft blue light falling over his chiseled jawline. With a final flick of his wrist you hear your own holopad beep, the screen updated with new information. “The helicopters are running behind schedule and there has been a request for personnel to help in other critical areas while the demand for organising evacuees has lessened.” “The area currently understaffed and that could urgently use your help is the medical tent where civilians that were injured during the attack are being treated,” He points to a white tent that is barely visible through the crowd of bodies seeking medical attention. You are just about able to see a young woman treating a man stretched out on a tarp on the floor. “Astrid Wu has been holding out as best she can but as you can see the number of patients far outweigh the personnel we have on hand.” “Mark off on the holopad that you have accepted the assignment so we can keep track of the staffing situation. This kind of admin stuff always helps to make evacuations go smoother.” Commander Strang’s voice has a distracted tone as he continues to type on his holopad, an intense look of concentration on his face. When he hears no movement, he looks up from his holopad with a cocked eyebrow, This is me dismissing you from your briefing. Go save lives, Green foot.” [[Continue|You move towards the medical tent]]

You take a deep breath, your eyes focused forward as you take in the terrain that you will need to sprint through. Your muscles coil in anticipation, your body in a runners crouch as you wait for the perfect moment to run. A loud scream pierces the air and you take off. You use the pleas of the mother to cover the sound of your feet hitting the ground as you sprint towards the next alleyway. The pleas fade as you push your body, muscles burning as your feet barely have time to touch the ground as you throw yourself into a dead sprint. You catapult over debris, flying through the air and rolling across the ground before jumping off walls and scaling onto rooftops to make the shortest path to your destination. You suck in oxygen and you find your mind moving just as fast as your feet. You think of how unfortunate it is that you could not save the mother and child. You think of the mission that needs to be completed. You know that if you do not plant the beacon, hundreds of lives could be at risk. You cannot falter in your duty, not when it means potentially risking not only the lives of other civilians but also your own comrades. Rubble flies through the air as you leap from rooftop to rooftop, your form but a flicker in the sky. It takes one last leap before you tuck and roll, landing safely at your location. You quickly secure the beacon and activate it. There is a blast of wind as dozens of cables exit the beacon and you watch in awe as they quickly connect to the web that was set in place by the beacons of the other soldiers and your classmates. As the cables latch into place you hear a crackling sound as the air is electrified, the web complete. “Recruit $surname reporting in. The beacon has been placed and activated. I will be moving to EVAC C now.” You tap your earpiece and wait. There is a faint buzz before a low voice replies, “Copy. Fall back to EVAC C. Beacon 54 has been registered on the interface.” [[You move towards EVAC C]] <<set $savemother to false>>\ <<set $plantbeacon to true>>\ <<notify 5s 'inventory-update'>>The Mission Comes First<</notify>>\ <<set $soldier +=5>>\ <<set $combat +=5>>\

You stood straight and alert, hands gripped tightly behind your back, fighting against the faint tremor in your hands as the announcement filled the room. You struggled to push back the rushing tide of worry that threatened to overwhelm you, your mind fixating on how many casualties would come from a S-Class threat. Your instructors once warned you and your classmates that a S-Class exillium could wipe out entire districts if they weren’t dealt with swiftly enough. You gathered your gear and listened intently to your instructions, determined to get out there and save as many people as you could. You were told that there weren’t enough soldiers to help with the evacuation process at Steeltown Stacks. The Steeltown Stacks is one of the lower ring districts and is dedicated to the manufacturing of steel to be used in construction projects. Only workmen and their families live in the district; the steel mills and refineries take up most of the would-be living space. Most people live in dizzyingly high apartment blocks with only the factory bosses able to afford houses further away from the factories and mills. Your class and three other fourth year cadet classes were deployed to help the soldiers to evacuate all civilians and plant pulsefire beacons. You were given quadrant four to sweep through and plant two pulsefire beacons in. If you ran into any civilians you were to tell them about the situation and instruct them on the location of the EVAC zone. Only once the last pulsefire beacon had been placed and the area clear of any civilians would you be able to return. However, it was made clear that your primary objective was to plant your pulsefire beacons. [[Continue|Pulsefire Beacon]]

In the middle of a roll you spot cracks beginning to form in the walls behind the exillium, the building becoming more and more unstable as the creature tears at the structure for material to throw. A wicked grin slowly grows on your face as you take off at a sprint, your eyes locked on the nearest wall. You feel time slow down around you, the adrenaline in your veins creating a tunnel, everything but the wall blocked out. If you miscalculate, you will be buried with the exillium, but you trust your body and your instincts. There is no doubt in your mind as you leap at the wall, clinging to the side with only one hand and your feet, the other holding your baton. “Hey, ugly! Why don’t you try and hit me now?” Your taunt is met with a snarl and you feel the building shudder beneath your grip as the exillium pulls yet another piece out to throw. The chunk of steel and cement explodes against the wall as you duck and you hear the cracks spread across the wall; the wall swaying under you. You position your feet against the wall and with a yell, you push against the wall, jumping off with a powerful thrust. The building shifts and cracks under the force but it is the rapid blasts of electricity that finally collapses the building. Charged energy blasts destroy the last pillar of support and the exillium is barely able to scream before it is buried, the entire building coming down onto its head. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You decided to collapse the building in hopes that it buys you more time. You run towards the woman and child. “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

As you weave skillfully around the projectiles you look for an opportunity to close the distance, your eyes constantly scanning your environment. It is when you sidestep a steel bar that you see your chance, the side door of the shuttle. It had fallen off, creating a makeshift ramp up the side of the building. You sprint towards the side door, never hesitating. The door gives a pitiful groan as you leap from it, your body twisting in the air as you jump from the door onto the wall and towards the exillium. The creature barely has the chance to swing their head to the side before you are upon them. The baton comes crashing down onto its skull and you close your eyes as you dispel the entire electrical charge into the creature. You fall back, trusting your body to catch itself, the blue light washing over you. Even with your eyes closed you can see the surge of light and feel the crackle of electricity dance over your skin. You slide down the shuttle, knees bent and body low, and your eyes finally open once your feet touch the ruined tarmac. The exillium lays paralysed atop the shuttle, muscles riddled with small spasms. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. The window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium and seeing how it took an entire baton charge, you don’t want to waste any precious time. You run towards the woman and child. “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

You command each battle drone to convert their pincers into pulsefire cannons. There is a chirp of agreement before the battle drones merge their pincers, metal rapidly twisting and melting into itself, and form a cannon. The sound of crackling electricity grows louder and louder as a blue-white light starts to gather at the end of each cannon. The exillium lowers its body at the sound, warily watching the battle drones as they try to encircle the creature. The first blast of electricity misses as the exillium leaps into the air, an ear piercing bellow following as it rushes towards you. The hulking mass of the creature is rapidly approaching your position and you find yourself flinging your body off the shuttle. Your shoulder hits the road below, your teeth clenched tight in order to trap the shout of pain. As you roll across the ground you see the beacon and horror fills your body as you watch the shuttle come crashing down onto it. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as you watch the beacon shatter beneath the collapsed shuttle. The exillium doesn’t allow you time to mourn for the beacon, swiftly lunging at you with a series of wild attacks. You frantically dodge away from the large fists of the creature while your fingers dance over your holo-controls, commanding your battle drones to attack. The battle drones swifty answer your call. The exillium is forced to jump away from you as electricity rains down onto it. It tries its best to evade the bolts but soon you can smell the acrid smell of fur and flesh burning as you watch it convulse under the unrelenting onslaught of the battle drones. The creature releases one final scream before collapsing, minute spasms the only signs of movement. You don’t have time to admire your work because only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium. However, smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You need to move quickly before the paralysis wears off. You run towards the mother and child, “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

You scale the side of the upended shuttle, muscles screaming as you push your body to move quickly. Rolling to your feet once at the top you flick three discs into the air in front of you, watching as they expand and shift into battle drones. The battle drones have silver frames with insect-like limbs and HUDs that flicker blue. Tapping your earpiece twice you can hear the three synthetic voices asking for orders, the monotone timbre infused with faint electronic chirps. You flex your fingers, the leather of your gloves shifting and tightening, before your fingers fly across the holo-controls in front of you. High-pitched whines pierce the air as the three battle drones dart towards the exillium, the silver frames barely visible as they swarm around the massive creature. It roars and tries to swat the machines out of the air, its blood red eyes focused intently on tearing into the metal. <fieldset>\ [[• You work to entangle the exillium]] [[• You change the pincers of the battle drones into pulsefire cannons and start blasting]] </fieldset>\

You curse your luck at the sudden change of events. Your eyes dart between the pulsefire beacon and the mother and child. You shake your head in frustration before placing the beacon back down and bringing your inventory menu back up, your mind racing as you rapidly form a plan and begin your preparations. While your strengths don’t lie in combat that doesn’t mean you don’t have other tricks up your sleeve. Your fingers dance over the holo-screen as you summon item after item, the quick ejections from the DS creating a mini hurricane beneath the shuttle. With all the items summoned you roll out from the shuttle and wave your arms frantically to gain the attention of the woman. You see her face crumble in relief at the sight of your academy uniform and she rushes towards you. As she approaches, you begin your preparations, eyes never leaving the exillium behind her. <fieldset>\ [[• You hammer eight piton-like devices into the surrounding walls and floor]] [[• You climb onto the shuttle and release three battle drones]] </fieldset>\ <<set $folkhero +=5>>\ <<set $tactician +=5>>\

At the sound of tearing metal you immediately sprint towards the exillium and when you see the creature get ready to swing, you drop into a slide. The tarmac tears at your uniform as you skid across the rough surface, the hulking mass of metal and glass flying overhead as you slide under and through the exillium’s legs. However, you soon have to roll out from your slide as the exillium follows through with the momentum of its swing and as it smashes the torn piece into the remaining half of the shuttle. As you roll across the ground you see the beacon and horror fills your body as you watch the shuttle come crashing down onto it. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as you watch the beacon shatter beneath the collapsed shuttle. The exillium doesn’t allow you time to mourn for the beacon, swiftly lunging at you with a series of wild attacks. You roll frantically across the ground as the exillium pounds the floor, trying to crack your body open. The exillium falters in its next attack, its fist becoming stuck, not wasting a second you spring up and sweep the exillium off its feet. It falls to the ground with a loud crash. Immediately you pounce, slamming the end of your staff into its chest and unleashing a full charge into its body. The creature screams as blue, crackling energy dances across its body before collapsing, minute spasms the only signs of movement. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You need to move quickly before the paralysis wears off. You run towards the mother and child, “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

You duck beneath the meaty fist, the smoke tickling your nose as you step in, and unleash a flurry of blows with the pulsefire baton. The electric blue shocks blur in and out of existence as you dart in and out of the creature’s grasp, ducking and weaving around it as you pummel and shock the exillium. The exillium’s shrieks of pain mix with the loud crackle of electricity being released from the baton; creating a dissonant symphony. Each breath drawn paints the back of your throat with a sour and metallic taste; the singed fur slowly suffocating you. The exillium releases a guttural shriek before leaping up, desperate to get away from you. You watch as the injured creature slams into the upended shuttle, clawing at the metal as the shuttle slips and collapses fully through the building. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as the beacon is shattered under the weight of the shuttle and exillium. You don’t have time to mourn for the beacon because soon after the exillium has recovered and has started to fling pieces of rubble towards you. Your body rolls and dodges around the rubble, consciously moving further away from the mother and child, not wanting to risk them getting hit in the crossfire. <fieldset>\ [[• You are moving towards the exillium, prepared to end this]] [[• You are moving closer to the building, a crazy idea forming]] </fieldset>\

You take the eight pitons you summoned and begin to hammer them into the floor and walls of the alleyway next to the upended shuttle. You carefully but quickly create a square with the pitons, four on the floor and four on the walls. Your hammer never shakes or hesitates, your face resolute as you slam the pitons into the surfaces. You time each hit perfectly, never wasting a single second, and when the final piton is in place, the woman has stumbled into the alleyway, nearly collapsing into your arms. You drag the woman and child back, trying to get as far back as possible. The exillium chases after you with a rabid single mindedness, lunging forward with its jaw dropping unnaturally low and canines gleaming. As it leaps you: <fieldset>\ [[• Protectively shield the woman and child]] [[• Taunt the exillium by presenting yourself to it]] </fieldset>\

You jump back, creating distance between yourself and the exillium. Twisting the bottom of the baton, you activate the gunslinger mode, and your thumb never leaves the trigger as you send rapid blasts of electricity at the exillium through the baton. The exillium tries to shield itself from the crackling, blue orbs but you see it become overwhelmed quickly, black ichor dripping from cracked skin under singed fur. The exillium turns and bounds for the shuttle, seeking shelter from your attacks. The ground shakes as the exillium leaps, leaving a small crater in the tarmac from its force, and lands on top of the shuttle. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as the beacon is shattered under the weight of the shuttle and exillium. You can only watch as the exillium scurries into the building, the broken beacon an unconsidered casualty. You don’t allow yourself time to mourn, muscles tensing as you slowly circle the building, trying to create a sightline with the creature. All you can do now is focus on escaping with the mother and child and to do that, you need to prevent the exillium from following. As you move around an idea takes root in your mind. <fieldset>\ [[• You look towards the exposed underbelly of the shuttle]] [[• You take notice of the exposed pillars of the building]] </fieldset>\

The exillium’s jump onto the shuttle has torn off the metal plate protecting the wiring and energy source canisters and you feel a plan slowly form in your mind as your eyes dart from the shuttle to the hole the exillium disappeared into. The pieces all slot into place as you sprint towards the opposite building, hands and feet frantically scaling the side of the building to ensure you get the perfect vantage point. While climbing you routinely checked for any movement from the exillium and for when the canisters were the most visible. Once the canisters are in full view you come to a stop. Balancing carefully off the side of the building you begin to charge your pulsefire baton. You hear the energy crackle and pop, an ozone smell filling the air, and the small hairs of your body stand as the energy gathers. You release the crackling ball of electricity and watch as it spins and grows. There is a deafening crack of thunder as the shuttle explodes. The shuttle erupts into a pillar of flame and metal, shrapnel slicing and tearing through its surroundings. The building never stood a chance. The concussive blast of the explosion cleaves through the last stabilising pillars and the startled screech of the exillium is lost in the earth shaking collapse. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You decided to collapse the building in hopes that it buys you more time. You swiftly scale down the building and run towards the woman and child. “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

At the sound of tearing metal you immediately slam your staff into the ground and gather all your strength into your legs. As the hulking mass of metal and glass comes flying towards your body you propel yourself up, pushing off the ground and using your staff to thrust you over the improvised weapon and frothing creature. You twist your body in the air and as you hit the ground, feet sliding under and knees bent, you see the exillium spin wildly and crash into the remaining half of the shuttle. The grating screech of metal upon metal pierces into your eardrums. The sound is nauseating however, your stomach only truly drops when you remember the pulsefire beacon and your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as you watch the beacon shatter beneath the collapsed shuttle. The exillium doesn’t allow you time to mourn for the beacon, swiftly lunging at you with a series of wild attacks. You feel black ichor paint your face as you pummel the creature, weaving between its heavy fisted attacks, the crackling of your staff filling the air with a thick, acrid smell. With a final spinning blow you bring the exillium down, expending a full electrical surge into the attack. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You need to move quickly before the paralysis wears off. You run towards the mother and child, “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

You spot three exposed pillars as you circle around the building, the pillars showing small cracks as they struggle to keep the building standing. The plan unfolds in your mind as you pull out your DS and summon three grenades. The grenades appear as smooth, silver discs and you carefully roll them in your hand as cast a critical eye over the building, trying to find the best angle to throw the grenades in. However, as your arm moves back, ready to throw, you see movement inside the building. The exillium is getting ready to make its own move. Your body immediately reacts, your instincts taking over as you place each disc between your fingers and fling all three in one throw. The discs are released at breakneck speed, your arm like a cracking whip, the silver reminiscent of bullets as they pierce the darkness. You don’t wait to see if your throw was true, already racing towards the mother and child, frantic to get them out of the area. You slide behind their shelter just as the explosion goes off. It is a series of three, small detonations. The earth barely shakes as each grenade goes off but once the third goes off you hear the building groan as it buckles under its own weight and crashes down. There is a wave of dust and debris that ripples out as the building collapses and the exillium cries out. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You decided to collapse the building in hopes that it buys you more time. You turn to the mother and child, “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

You tap the baton twice against your hip as you roll to the side and as you stand, spinning the baton rapidly in your hands, it extends out and begins to crackle at the ends. The exillium flings itself at you again, feet stretched out as if to grapple you. You sidestep the lunge and bring your newly formed staff down with a sickening crunch onto the limbs. Not allowing the snarling creature time to recover, you quickly spin out and ram the end of your staff into its face. It shrieks in pain as electricity eats at its flesh, the smell of singed fur and charred skin quickly enveloping the surrounding air. You continue to press your attack, not allowing it to gain any ground or recover. Your staff blurs as you spin and twirl in and out of the exillium’s range, never allowing yourself too close. The exillium frantically swings its fists at you, trying to create distance but you bat them away. You see the gold eyes of the exillium widen and the black slitted pupils dart desperately around, its growls becoming tinged with fear. You have cornered the exillium, its back approaching the shuttle and with nowhere else to go. You move to end the fight but in a last ditch effort it lashes out. The exillium grabs the upended shuttle behind it and with a piercing howl, tears it in half and swings it at you. <fieldset>\ [[• You slam your staff into the ground and use it to propel yourself over the exillium and its weapon]] [[• You dart towards the exillium and slide between its legs]] </fieldset>\

You pull yourself further into the darkness, disappearing from sight. You hear the screams and footsteps get more distant as the woman runs further down the street from the exillium. Your breaths are evenly timed with the seconds you count out in your mind as you wait for the pair to leave your vicinity completely. It takes some time for her pleas to stop, but once your surroundings are silent you slide out from the rubble and debris of the shuttle and follow the map flashing on your DS. It is unfortunate that you could not save the mother and child but you have a mission that needs to be completed. You know that if you do not plant the beacon, hundreds of lives could be at risk. You cannot falter in your duty, not when it means potentially risking not only the lives of other civilians but also your own comrades. Your map has calculated the fastest route to the beacon’s location. While you were waiting in the darkness you used the time to map the safest path while also compiling information about the area for later use. Using the knowledge you gained you stealthily move through the city, avoiding any further threats and carefully observing the behaviour of the exillium from a distance. You arrive safely at the beacon location. You quickly secure the beacon and activate it. There is a blast of wind as dozens of cables exit the beacon and you watch in awe as they quickly connect to the web that was set in place by the beacons of the other soldiers and your classmates. As the cables latch into place you hear a crackling sound as the air is electrified, the web complete. “Recruit $surname reporting in. The beacon has been placed and activated. I will be moving to EVAC C now.” You tap your earpiece and wait. There is a faint buzz before a low voice replies, “Copy. Fall back to EVAC C. Beacon 54 has been registered on the interface.” [[You move towards EVAC C]] <<set $savemother to false>> <<set $plantbeacon to true>> <<notify 5s 'inventory-update'>>The Mission Comes First<</notify>>\ <<set $soldier +=5>>\ <<set $tactician +=5>>\

You command each battle drone to drop their thick corded electrical wires, the ends of the wires bearing large hooks. They drop three wires each and as the long wires drop you can hear the crackling energy around each one and see sparks flying as you maneuver your drones around the exillium. The creature flinches away from the crackling wires, panic screeches filling the air as it desperately jumps away. The hulking mass of the creature is rapidly approaching your position and you find yourself flinging your body off the shuttle. Your shoulder hits the road below, your teeth clenched tight in order to trap the shout of pain. As you roll across the ground you see the beacon and horror fills your body as you watch the shuttle come crashing down onto it. Your hand instinctively reaches out, mouth shaping your scream as you watch the beacon shatter beneath the collapsed shuttle. The exillium doesn’t allow you time to mourn for the beacon, swiftly lunging at you with a series of wild attacks. “Activate: net protocol series 078,” your voice screams out, scrambling to avoid the large fists of the exillium. Your eyes water as the smoke from its flesh lingers after each attack. Your hands vibrate as you see the battle drones descend on the exillium. Their silver frames dive towards the creature and entangle it in their web. You watch as the creature convulses, the wires wrapped tightly around it and the hooks buried deep within its flesh. You don’t have time to admire your work because if you stay any longer, the exillium may be able to break through the web. Only a Soulforge can truly kill an exillium but smaller threats can be taken out long enough to make escape possible. Electricity can paralyse it but the window of time is only five to ten minutes depending on the strength of the exillium. You need to move quickly before the cage is broken. “We need to move right now, the exillium won’t be down for too long. We need to create as much distance between us as we can,” the woman nods, face pale, and quickly follows you. [[ You escort the mother and child towards EVAC C|Escort Mom and Child]] <<set $savemother to true>> <<set $plantbeacon to false>> <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Local Hero<</notify>>\

"Do not push or shove, There is enough space for everyone, follow our instructions and you will be able to board and leave safely!" Nico's firm voice tries desperately to cut through the roar of the crowd but his words fall on deaf ears as more and more bodies push against the barriers, the yellow walls straining under their weight. One man is leading the pack, his eyes wide and hands frantic as he claws at the barrier, leg thrust over the yellow wall as he tries to pitch himself forward. Astrid, who was tailing you, rushes forward to help Nico restrain the thrashing man. His fist narrowly misses Nico's nose, the frustrated student dodging back at the last second. "Sir! Please, you need to calm down!" "I swear if you swing at my sister I will-" A scuffle breaks out as the two try to restrain the man without hurting him. They are forced to drag him across the barrier, his body thrashing in their arms as he wriggles and writhes, kicking up dust and spitting venomously at the twins. Two students you vaguely recognise from your class looks back in panic, unable to help as they stand in front of the barrier preventing anyone else from jumping across. "I need to be with my wife, You useless brats are keeping me from my wife!" Astrid flinches as his hand swipes across her face, Nico grunting as all the man's weight is suddenly shifted onto him, her body moving instinctively away. "Your wife is on the emergency medical helicopter, only those who need immediate medical attention can board!" You quickly take over for Astrid, weaving around the man's flailing arms before grabbing an arm and pinning it to his side with your body. "What do you need?" You lock eyes with a flustered Nico, his once perfectly slicked back hair now falling forward, the dark brown strands framing his dark scowl. A flash of anger crosses his face, his lips pulled into a snarl before he smothers it, cooling his expression. "Can you restrain him while I retrieve the cuffs from my DS?" You simply nod, your arms moving to secure both of the man's arms behind his back, pushing all your weight onto the joints to keep him immobile. It is not long before you hear a familiar chime as Nico grabs the cuffs and slaps them onto the man, Nico's smile growing when the man whines as they tighten around his wrists. "That's for hitting my sister in the face." The words are whispered in an icy tone, Nico pulling back with a smirk. "$surname, can you watch him? I will do damage control." He waits for you to nod before he moves back to the barricade, his voice loud and authoritative as he forces everyone back into their allocated spots. He focuses on controlling the crowd but occasionally his head will swivel around to check on Astrid With the man subdued you join Astrid in moving patients to the emergency medical helicopter. Astrid takes care not to touch anyone directly, her only contact directly with the stretchers, and she slows whenever a patient is a man. You notice that she will trail behind you, ensuring that you are the first to reach any patient that is a man. Realising her apprehension you move to intercept the male patients, pretending not to see her gratitude as the two of you work quickly to fill the emergency helicopter with patients. [[Continue|S-Class Attack]] <<set $astridrelationship +=5>>\ <<set $nicorelationship +=5>>\ <<set $nicoleadership +=5>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Man's best backup<</notify>>\

<h1>Chapter One</h1> The tremors grow stronger and stronger as the two clash. You had fallen behind during the initial breach because you were at the back of the group and the tremors were far stronger near the back. Now they are only growing stronger making it near impossible for you and the few left behind to catch up. You look around and see desperation on the faces of those with you, their eyes red and mouths twisted as they claw at the earth. Your eyes dart around your surroundings, trying to find a way out of the situation, blocking out the grunts of Commander Strang and the screams of those around you. You focus and decide to: <fieldset>\ [[• Use your strength to help yourself and others]] [[• Use one of your gadgets to help yourself and others]] [[• Help those you can with your strength but don't take risks]] [[• Help those you can with the help of one of your gadgets but don't take risks]] </fieldset>\

Through gritted teeth you struggle to keep your balance and pull out your DS, the dark blue cube slightly dented from your stumbling. You rush to press your thumb against the groove and once the holopad appears you quickly choose to eject 50ft of nylon rope from your inventory. There is a soft hissing sound before the rope drops at your feet. You waste no time securing the rope around your waist and then turning to the two people closest to you. “Quickly, secure it around your waist and then pass it along! We can use it to pull and stabilise each other.” There are two shaky nods before following your instructions. Once the rope is in place you start climbing across the rocky landscape, fighting to find stable positions for your hands and feet. Grunts fill the air as you push your muscles to their limit, sweat dripping into your eyes as you traverse the difficult terrain. However, you manage to power through the worst of the new rocky outcrops, the rope allowing you and the others to help each other when needed. You finally get to flat land and all remove the rope, ready to make the final sprint to the shuttles. The pair express their deep gratitude before running. [[But you never get to follow.]] <<set $folkhero +=5>> <<set $combat +=5>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\ <<set $helpedrecruits to true>>\

Will curses under his breath as he dodges left, the fire licking at his feet as he frantically backpedals. The serpent exillium’s maw is opened wide as it expels wave after wave of fire, trying to catch him. The fire’s smoke is potent, his eyes burning and skin slowly staining black. His eyes never stray away from the serpent, locked onto every movement, waiting for an opening. The fire stops and he takes it as his cue to pounce. He dashes through the fire and smashes down onto the serpent’s chest with his knuckle dusters, the anima weapon glowing a bright crimson as he rains down hits. However, he barely makes a dent against the armored plates that act as the creature’s scales. It is like hitting a mountain, an immovable force. He watches the creature coil and he backflips off, narrowly avoiding getting caught. “Ara, get the reinforcements in as fast as possible. I can’t delay this thing. I can barely even scratch it.” Will squints, desperately trying to keep his sweat from entering his eyes, not taking the chance of moving his hands away from their guard position. A soft voice sounds in his mind, the communicator implanted behind his ear picking up on his second in command’s voice, “Reinforcements requested ASAP. Can you hold out?” He jumps to the side and rolls back onto his feet when a ball of fire is spat at him. “I have to. We have academy students still retreating. Kids are the future and all that, right?” His chuckle is turned into a yelp as he is forced to punch the serpent’s head away, the exillium lunging at his body. “Don’t do anything Stupid, Will.” “I’m trying!” [[Continue|Serpent Attack]]

His fists are a blur as he bobs and weaves in and out of the attacks of the serpent. Kicking off its body, he peppers blows all across the plated torso, trying to find a point of weakness. The serpent hisses and starts to recoil back, the body rapidly disappearing under the earth again. “Hey, are you running away?” Will starts to jog forward, trying to get a better view of the S-Class exillium and assess the situation. As he peers down he sees the gold, slitted eyes of the exillium stare back. It did not retreat. Will turns and runs, his eyes wide and arms waving in the air frantically, trying to catch the attention of any stragglers. “IT’S GOING TO JUMP!” Will is pushed to the floor by a powerful rush of air, a chill running down his spine as darkness engulfs the area around him, the sun blocked by the gargantuan serpent flying through the air, maw open and ready to consume, ichor spraying across the sky as fangs gleam and bite down onto the earth. You heard Commander Strang’s shouts but there was nothing you could do. You were lifted into the air as the serpent crashed into the earth, the land exploding under the sudden force. You try to spin your body in the air, desperate to reach out and grab anything to stop your fall but you could only watch as you descended into darkness, hands futilely stretched out before you. You close your eyes, twist your shoulder to cover your head and bend your knees. [[Crunch]]

You try to scream but you find all the air has left your lungs. You hit the ground and rolled but your shoulder dislocated with a sickening crack. A desperate gasp leaves your throat, trying to suck oxygen back into your lungs, but only dust claws at your throat. You cough and splutter, nails digging into the earth, and eyes watering. The rattling coughs bounce across the sunken hole’s walls but the sound fades as you slowly regulate your breathing, rolling to be on your back and stare at the barely visible sky through the broken earth. You shakily try to get up, forcing back the cry of pain you want to let out, your arms trembling as you push your body into a sitting position. Everything hurts. Your body screams as you lean forward, your ribs protesting at the movement and your lips pursed to stop yourself from vomiting. The world has a strange haze to it and the pain in your head makes it difficult to concentrate. Your hand comes to your head to try massage your temples but you are startled to find it wet. Pulling your hand away you find blood coating your fingertips. Now aware of the blood you can feel the uncomfortable sensation of blood dripping down the back of your neck and soaking the collar of your uniform. The situation is not good, you have to do something. <fieldset>\ [[• You smother the panic that was threatening to rise and take a deep breath. You just need to clear your head and look at this situation from all angles]] [[• You have been trained to handle situations like this. Recall your training and an exit will be found]] [[• There’s no need to worry. The commander saw you fall and will be able to send for help. What’s important is that you were the only one to fall. Everyone else has made it out safely]] [[• Your eyes are scanning the walls to find the best spot to start climbing. You aren’t waiting to see if there will be another earthquake. You are getting out of here.]] </fieldset>\

You smother the panic that was threatening to rise and take a deep breath. You just need to clear your head and look at this situation from all angles. You scan your surroundings carefully trying to find an escape route, analysing the sunken hole walls and mentally going through your DS inventory for any items that may be useful. A plan starts to slowly form as you take everything into consideration. However, before you can even act on your plan the world begins to shake once again. You are thrown back to the floor as the furthest wall explodes, barely able to cover your face with your arms as rock flies out. A low growl rumbles through the newly made cavern. Gold, slitted eyes fix themselves onto you. You lie prone, unable to move under the hypnotic stare of the monster. A raspy, broken voice is suddenly heard in your mind. “My… Next… Vessel…” You watch as the monster’s jaw unhinges, their teeth elongating and black ichor slowly drips from the fangs. <fieldset>\ <legend>You:</legend>\ [[• Try desperately to crawl away]] [[• Scream for help]] [[• Grit your teeth and lift your chin with a defiant glare. You will not die a coward.]] [[• Vessel? What could the beast mean? Were the monsters always capable of communicating?]] </fieldset>\

You have been trained to handle situations like this. Recall your training and an exit will be found. You push through the nausea and dizziness and start to slowly play through your memories, reflecting on your classes and remembering all your training. You think of the survival exercises and start to slowly form a plan. However, before you can even act on your plan the world begins to shake once again. You are thrown back to the floor as the furthest wall explodes, barely able to cover your face with your arms as rock flies out. A low growl rumbles through the newly made cavern. Gold, slitted eyes fix themselves onto you. You lie prone, unable to move under the hypnotic stare of the monster. A raspy, broken voice is suddenly heard in your mind. “My… Next… Vessel…” You watch as the monster’s jaw unhinges, their teeth elongating and black ichor slowly drips from the fangs. <fieldset>\ <legend>You:</legend>\ [[• Try desperately to crawl away]] [[• Scream for help]] [[• Grit your teeth and lift your chin with a defiant glare. You will not die a coward.]] [[• Vessel? What could the beast mean? Were the monsters always capable of communicating?]] </fieldset>\

You feel a wave of calm wash over you, tension slowly fading as you realise there is no need to worry. The commander saw you fall and he will send a rescue party once things have stabilised. What’s important is that you were the only one to fall. Everyone else has made it out safely. You focus on trying to hide amongst the rubble so that you can wait for a rescue team. However, before you can even act on your plan the world begins to shake once again. You are thrown back to the floor as the furthest wall explodes, barely able to cover your face with your arms as rock flies out. A low growl rumbles through the newly made cavern. Gold, slitted eyes fix themselves onto you. You lie prone, unable to move under the hypnotic stare of the monster. A raspy, broken voice is suddenly heard in your mind. “My… Next… Vessel…” You watch as the monster’s jaw unhinges, their teeth elongating and black ichor slowly drips from the fangs. <fieldset>\ <legend>You:</legend>\ [[• Try desperately to crawl away]] [[• Scream for help]] [[• Grit your teeth and lift your chin with a defiant glare. You will not die a coward.]] [[• Vessel? What could the beast mean? Were the monsters always capable of communicating?]] </fieldset>\

Your eyes are scanning the walls to find the best spot to start climbing. You aren’t waiting to see if there will be another earthquake. You are getting out of here. Your body protests as you try to push yourself to your feet, your head spinning and ribs screaming. The world spins as you stumble to your feet but you persist, slowly walking towards a wall to better assess your climbing options. However, before you can even approach a wall the world begins to shake once again. You are thrown back to the floor as the furthest wall explodes, barely able to cover your face with your arms as rock flies out. A low growl rumbles through the newly made cavern. Gold, slitted eyes fix themselves onto you. You lie prone, unable to move under the hypnotic stare of the monster. A raspy, broken voice is suddenly heard in your mind. “My… Next… Vessel…” You watch as the monster’s jaw unhinges, their teeth elongating and black ichor slowly drips from the fangs. <fieldset>\ <legend>You:</legend>\ [[• Try desperately to crawl away]] [[• Scream for help]] [[• Grit your teeth and lift your chin with a defiant glare. You will not die a coward.]] [[• Vessel? What could the beast mean? Were the monsters always capable of communicating?]] </fieldset>\

The air is filled with chatter and the whirring of blades; the noise deafening if not for the headset worn over your ears. Fourteen other teenagers, all dressed in specialised training suits, sit strapped into the military helicopter alongside you. For a select few, you amongst those lucky, the suits are noticeably higher in quality than others. The suits are specially tailored to fit each individual perfectly and some of the teenagers are preening as they show off the enhanced augmentations on their suits. The air buzzes with excitement, teenagers ranging from thirteen to sixteen, talking loudly about what to expect for the special class trip. One of them, a boy with piercing grey eyes and buzzed blonde hair, forces his voice through the noise and commands the attention of everyone. “I don’t see why there is such a fuss for visiting a simple warship.” He crosses his arms and leans back into his seat, appearing nonchalant as he speaks. “We all know that the navy makes up only a fraction of our military and the real excitement happens on land. We will probably just be stuck helping out with menial tasks and having to hear about their boring research.” Disdain drips from Frederich Van Onselen’s lips and the class’s excitement dies under the weight of his words. Those next to him are quick to agree, echoing his sentiments and heads nodding like pecking chickens. “What do you think, $name?” A brave soul pipes up and you feel the entire room turn to face you, equal parts curiosity and calculation in their eyes as they look to you for answers. Only the whirring blades of the helicopter can be heard, the eyes’ of everyone bearing down, and Frederich’s scowl growing as the attention is shifted away from him. You consider your words carefully, watching Frederich out of the corner of your eye. <fieldset>\ [[• “I suppose it depends on the crew and what our instructor has prepared. I’m sure it will be worthwhile to our training either way.”]] [[• “We are going on board one of the largest warships in the entirety of Azish, I wager it will be a better experience than our time patrolling the outskirts of Voxis.”]] [[• “Not a fan of the sea or land, I’m just waiting for the day to be over.”]] [[• Ignore the conversation.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nobackground to false>> <<set $militarybackground to true>>

The sun hangs high in the sky, golden rays sweeping across the land, and its warmth seeping into your very bones. The cloudless sky hums with the rich harmonies sung by the farmers as they toil the field. Their voices are heard even over the rumbling of the truck's engine that you are seated in the back of; the wind battering your face while you struggle to shield your eyes from the dust kicked up by the wheels. The truck chugs down the dirt road and it is chased by laughing children, their faces split into wide smiles and their clothes dirty from a hard day of playing in the fields. You continue down the dirt road, passing crop fields and laborers, the children becoming but specks in the distance as the truck follows the winding road until nothing but hip high yellowed grass can be seen, swaying and rolling like an ocean. Leafless trees dot the scenery, bowed under the weight of the sun and the inhabitants perched on its gnarled branches. Two vultures, beady-eyed and plumage puffed, watch your truck crawl to a stop from their perch. “Out, out, out! We’ve only got three hours to hunt for some meat or we're going hungry for tonight’s celebration.” A man with dark brown skin, leathery from age and the sun, barks from the driver’s window, arm resting on the wheel and head poking out. His black hair is peppered with white and buzzed close to his skull. His dark brown eyes are framed with wrinkles that deepen as he grins fiercely, delighted as he watches you and others scramble to jump out of the back. “Be careful with those weapons - Junior! You almost stabbed yourself!” Jameson hangs half out of the window, twisting his body to scold Junior. The young boy scrambles to pick up the dropped spears and rifles, casualties of his failed hop out of the truck. You watched his foot catch on the ropes keeping the weapon rack secure and how his falling body wrenched it free, leading to the small avalanche. There are good natured chuckles as you and the other teenagers help pick up the weapons. [[The weapons are quickly placed back onto the rack]] <<set $nobackground to false>> <<set $wastelanderbackground to true>>

A sharp and shrill whistle pierces the air as a train rattles by on the old railway, sparks flying as the rusted metal shakes violently under the weight of the metal and coal. The train is like a never-ending serpent, carriage after carriage slithering into the dark tunnel ahead. The graffiti painted on the sides are nothing but colourful blurs under the setting sun’s fading light; a hypnotic lure to the eye. The orange and yellow beams of the setting sun struggle to cut through the thick smog that has settled around the ruined landscape. Half standing buildings and torn up road litter the forgotten district; weeds desperately trying to reclaim the land but even they falter under the ever expanding tar pits of black ichor left by the exillium attack ten years ago. Bubbling and hissing, the viscous ichor seems sentient. It crawls into every crevice and slowly consumes what is left of the crumbling district once known as Blackrock. The military tried to clear it away at first, their machines and scientists spending months prodding and digging around the strange liquid, but all their attempts failed. Cutting their losses, they declared the district uninhabitable and moved its surviving inhabitants to the nearest districts. Crime shot up as people scrambled to hoard what little resources were available for themselves and their family. The people were made to fend for themselves, the military moving on, and people could only take out their frustrations on the patrols. The situation was and still is bleak in the lower rung districts. [[You exhale, watching the white puff lazily rise]] <<set $nobackground to false>> <<set $orphanbackground to true>>\

Your spine straightens and your voice is warm, face set in a friendly expression as you say, “I suppose it depends on the crew and what our instructor has prepared. I’m sure it will be worthwhile for our training either way.” The chatter on your side of the helicopter starts to pick up again, excitement growing once again in their voices. You note that the people sitting on Frederich’s side shift and remain silent, their eyes darting between you and him. His scowl has deepened and you can see his hands flex under his crossed arms. You smother the sigh that wishes to leave your mouth, retaining your unbothered and calm outward appearance. Reflecting on the past month silently, you recall similar incidents popping up. Frederich has always been opinionated and forceful but recently he has been using his status as the first born and heir of the Van Onselen family, a family of generals, to control the class. A subtle pressure exerted over those approaching academy age to align themselves with his family. A cold war is brewing between those who wish to go into the navy and those who are aiming for the army. Even those with no interest in either faction are forced to carefully straddle the line or be caught in the crossfire. As heir to the admiral position, you find yourself the head of the navy faction without a say in the matter. This class in particular is made up of children from high ranking military families. Their parents spent large amounts of money in hopes of providing their children an edge over others and a class taught by notable veteran Instructor Mbatha is too advantageous to ignore. It is merely icing on top of the cake that Frederich and you happen to be in the same class. An unfortunate coincidence you can’t help but think as you recall all the ways in which the people in your class tried to become close to an heir, whether that was you or Frederich. The intent in their eyes; the mission fed to them by their parents, all too obvious. Their desire to use you to secure a favourable position after the academy displayed in every action and facial expression. <fieldset>\ [[• You hide your disgust well, using them just as much as they wish to use you.]] [[• You are sympathetic and struggle with what to do.]] [[• You maintain a set distance; careful with those you let into your life.]] </fieldset>\

You mirror Frederich’s relaxed pose, arms crossed over your chest and eyebrow cocked as you respond with a smirk, “We’re going on board one of the largest warships in the entirety of Azish, I wager it will be a better experience than our time patrolling the outskirts of Voxis.” There is a hush as every eye darts towards Frederich’s face, the taunt in your words clear. His nostrils flare and the leather of the helicopter seat creaks as he leans forward, straining against the seatbelt. “My father went out of his way to show us what life would really be like in the army. Anyone who would complain about that is clearly not prepared for army life. Understandable really,” He sneers as he speaks, “Not everyone is cut out for real soldier work.” Heads are pointedly swiveling to look between you and Frederich, a tense silence settling over the area as they dare not breathe too loud in fear of being dragged into the fight. You slowly smile and your voice takes on a nonchalant tone, “You’re right. We do need soldiers on the ground to protect the city. I am sure the navy’s specially trained soldiers are grateful for their work. Without them, they would not be able to complete their research on the tears, a task that can’t be left to just anyone.” You can practically hear Frederich’s teeth grinding as he glares at you, his face rapidly growing red as quiet snickers build up on your side. Your words have chilled the atmosphere and the divide is more prominent than ever. A cold war has been brewing between those who wish to go into the navy and those who are aiming for the army. Even those with no interest in either faction are forced to carefully straddle the line or be caught in the crossfire. As heir to the admiral position, you find yourself the head of the navy faction without a say in the matter and your direct competitor is Frederich. His father is a Lieutenant General and if rumours would have you believe, he is due a promotion soon. This class in particular is made up of children from high ranking military families. Their parents spent large amounts of money in hopes of providing their children an edge over others and a class taught by notable veteran Instructor Mbatha is too advantageous to ignore. It is merely icing on top of the cake that Frederich and you happen to be in the same class. An unfortunate coincidence you can’t help but think as you recall all the ways in which the people in your class tried to become close to an heir, whether that was you or Frederich. The intent in their eyes; the mission fed to them by their parents, all too obvious. Their desire to use you to secure a favourable position after the academy displayed in every action and facial expression. <fieldset>\ [[• You hide your disgust well, using them just as much as they wish to use you.]] [[• You are sympathetic and struggle with what to do.]] [[• You maintain a set distance; careful with those you let into your life.]] </fieldset>\

With arms crossed and head pointedly turned away from everyone you reply in a dry tone, your rolling eyes seen by all through the reflection of the helicopter’s window, “I’m unsure why you are seeking my opinion when I find both factions of the military uninteresting. I am only here because I was forced into this class.” Low murmurs fill the helicopter as your words cause a stir, no one knows what to do with your clear disinterest. Frederich’s scowl deepens as he studies your languid posture and how you remain detached from the conversations happening around you. Confusion lines his furrowed brows as he turns to talk to those around him but his eyes dart to your silent form occasionally. Reflecting on the past month silently, you recall similar incidents popping up. Frederich has always been opinionated and forceful but recently he has been using his status as the first born and heir of the Van Onselen family, a family of generals, to control the class. A subtle pressure exerted over those approaching academy age to align themselves with his family. A cold war is brewing between those who wish to go into the navy and those who are aiming for the army. Even those with no interest in either faction are forced to carefully straddle the line or be caught in the crossfire. As heir to the admiral position, you find yourself the head of the navy faction without a say in the matter. This class in particular is made up of children from high ranking military families. Their parents spent large amounts of money in hopes of providing their children an edge over others and a class taught by notable veteran Instructor Mbatha is too advantageous to ignore. It is merely icing on top of the cake that Frederich and you happen to be in the same class. An unfortunate coincidence you can’t help but think as you recall all the ways in which the people in your class tried to become close to an heir, whether that was you or Frederich. The intent in their eyes; the mission fed to them by their parents, all too obvious. Their desire to use you to secure a favourable position after the academy displayed in every action and facial expression. <fieldset>\ [[• You hide your disgust well, using them just as much as they wish to use you.]] [[• You are sympathetic and struggle with what to do.]] [[• You maintain a set distance; careful with those you let into your life.]] [[• Your apprehension to be seen as the navy heir has made it difficult for them]] </fieldset>\

You glance briefly at the young boy who dared to call out to you before turning your attention back to the window, intent on ignoring the conversation. He clears his throat and tries again, a crack entering his voice as he tries to draw your attention away from the endless blue ocean the helicopter is flying across. You send him a sharp warning look through the window’s reflection and he shrinks back, mouth shutting with a click. Low murmurs fill the helicopter as you continue to stare out the window, eyes focused on the restless waves moving across the surface. Frederich’s scowl deepens as he studies your languid posture and how you remain detached from the conversations happening around you. Confusion lines his furrowed brows as he turns to talk to those around him but his eyes dart to your silent form occasionally. Reflecting on the past month silently, you recall similar incidents popping up. Frederich has always been opinionated and forceful but recently he has been using his status as the first born of the Van Onselen family, a family of generals, to control the class. A subtle pressure exerted over those approaching academy age to align themselves with his family. A cold war is brewing between those who wish to go into the navy and those who are aiming for the army. Even those with no interest in either faction are forced to carefully straddle the line or be caught in the crossfire. As heir to the admiral position, you find yourself the head of the navy faction without a say in the matter. This class in particular is made up of children from high ranking military families. Their parents spent large amounts of money in hopes of providing their children an edge over others and a class taught by notable veteran Instructor Mbatha is too advantageous to ignore. It is merely icing on top of the cake that Frederich and you happen to be in the same class. An unfortunate coincidence you can’t help but think as you recall all the ways in which the people in your class tried to become close to an heir, whether that was you or Frederich. The intent in their eyes; the mission fed to them by their parents, all too obvious. Their desire to use you to secure a favourable position after the academy displayed in every action and facial expression. <fieldset>\ [[• You maintain a set distance; careful with those you let into your life.]] [[• Your apprehension to be seen as the navy heir has made it difficult for them]] </fieldset>\

No matter your personal feelings you hide them behind a smile and friendly demeanor, your silver-tongue luring them into compliance. They believe that they have secured themselves a benefactor but you are their puppetmaster. You laugh and chat with those around you, your voice warm and eyes crinkling as you laugh, even as your mind carefully plots how to best handle Frederich during the trip and your supporters. The boy seems to be plotting his own schemes as his eyes darken and he murmurs to those around him, his voice too soft for you to pick up on any of his words. While you prefer a softer touch, he exerts his influence with a willful attitude. Those who surround him have forced smiles and tense shoulders, plying Frederich with compliments and platitudes. Frederich appears larger amongst the curled in shoulders of those around him and he relishes in it. However, you are shaken from your observation by the pilot’s voice, alerting everyone to prepare for landing. The large figure of your instructor, Instructor Mbatha, leaves the co-pilot seat and starts his debriefing. “We will be landing in five minutes. Be on your feet and on the move as soon as the helicopter touches the deck. We will be touring the Dauntless today and there will be a special surprise near the end of the tour. I hope you are ready to show off what you have learnt under my instruction. Do not disappoint me!” His voice is loud and his face stern as he watches the class quickly yell “Yes, Sir!” in response. [[He nods and you wait for landing.]]

You lean against your hand, carefully covering the bottom half of your face with your fingers as you think. You feel your mouth twitch as you listen to those around you talk about their excitement for the trip. You can hear the flattery in their words as they talk and a restlessness settles in as the conversations wash over you. Their words are probing and you find yourself smiling and answering as best you can while a niggling sense of dread eats at your mind. You would be a fool not to see their ploy yet you find it difficult to ignore them. Would I be like them if I was in their shoes? What if I was not born as a $surname in a world dominated by the military? Your thoughts whirl around and can’t help but turn a blind eye to their intent. You watch Frederich out of the corner of your eye and take in the ease with which he handles the false praise and companions. He revels in the attention and handles his supporters with an iron fist; willing tools for him to wield. Those who surround him have forced smiles and tense shoulders, plying Frederich with compliments and platitudes. Frederich appears larger amongst the curled in shoulders of those around him and he relishes in it. However, you are shaken from your observation by the pilot’s voice, alerting everyone to prepare for landing. The large figure of your instructor, Instructor Mbatha, leaves the co-pilot seat and starts his debriefing. “We will be landing in five minutes. Be on your feet and on the move as soon as the helicopter touches the deck. We will be touring the Dauntless today and there will be a special surprise near the end of the tour. I hope you are ready to show off what you have learnt under my instruction. Do not disappoint me!” His voice is loud and his face stern as he watches the class quickly yell “Yes, Sir!” in response. [[He nods and you wait for landing.]]

A polite smile and cordial tone is all that you afford your classmates. You walk a thin line, a careful balancing act of pleasantries and indifference. Conversations will be held and a false sense of companionship shared but you are careful to never let them peek behind your words, see the barrier you have built between yourself and them. No real information is ever shared, they know not your thoughts or goals or your real self, just the carefully constructed appearance you allow them. It is an act of protection, you have seen those who surround your mother and father and you know how to handle them to ensure that nothing can be used against you later. Trust is a fragile resource that can only be shared with those vetted thoroughly, a lesson taught to you from young. You ponder what lessons Frederich was taught as you watch the boy. His voice is too soft for you to pick up on any of his words but you watch him talk to the people around him. While you prefer a softer touch, he exerts his influence with a willful attitude. Those who surround him have forced smiles and tense shoulders, plying Frederich with compliments and platitudes. Frederich appears larger amongst the curled in shoulders of those around him and he relishes in it. However, you are shaken from your observation by the pilot’s voice, alerting everyone to prepare for landing. The large figure of your instructor, Instructor Mbatha, leaves the co-pilot seat and starts his debriefing. “We will be landing in five minutes. Be on your feet and on the move as soon as the helicopter touches the deck. We will be touring the Dauntless today and there will be a special surprise near the end of the tour. I hope you are ready to show off what you have learnt under my instruction. Do not disappoint me!” His voice is loud and his face stern as he watches the class quickly yell “Yes, Sir!” in response. [[He nods and you wait for landing.]]

The flight deck of the dauntless slowly grows closer as the helicopter carefully maneuvers itself to land, an Aviation Boatswain Mate’s voice crackles over the headset, instructing the pilot where to land and calling for others to come and secure the helicopter. You can see a swarm of yellow shirts moving into action as they prepare for the landing; working like a well-oiled machine as soon as wheels touch the helipad. It is not long before you and your classmates are marching out and standing on the flight deck; the familiar sharp smell of salt and gasoline immediately assaults your senses. The headsets you were made to wear on the helicopter provide a welcome buffer to the overwhelming cacophony of sound erupting from the area. Men and women shouting orders, the roar of aircrafts taking off and the sound of chains dragging across the flight deck all mixing together to create a dizzying atmosphere for newcomers. Three officers walk up to your group and you immediately recognise Lieutenant Blake, your father’s personal assistant. The three salute Instructor Mbatha who gives his own small nod in return, allowing Lieutenant Blake to step forward and speak. He taps his right ear and you hear a soft chime as he attunes to your class’s frequency. His voice comes through your headsets with crisp clarity. “Welcome aboard the Dauntless, I’m Lieutenant Blake and these are Warrant Officers Le Roux and Vaughan. We will be responsible for your care today. We have been instructed to give your class a tour and then escort you to a special surprise prepared by the Admiral after lunch.” The class bursts into excited chatter, everyone wondering what the surprise could be but are quickly silenced by a pointed stare courtesy of Instructor Mbatha. “In order to prevent any disruptions to the daily operations of the Dauntless we will be splitting your class into two groups. Group One, will be with Warrant Officer Le Roux, you will start at the hangar. Group Two, you will be with Warrant Officer Vaughan, you will start your tour in the engine room. Lunch for both groups will happen at fifteen-hundred.” Lieutenant Blake looks over the class, satisfied that no one seems confused, he begins to assign the groups. You notice a trend as the students move to stand in front of their assigned Warrant Officer; whoever made the group assignment took painstaking measures to mix the fractured class. There were an equal number of navy and army loyalists in each group, a fact that Frederich picked up on as well based on his scowl. [[Your name is called last, placing you in group two]]

You hide your expression behind your hand as you pretend to massage your temples, your frown hidden from the eyes of your classmates. It is exhausting dodging the constant barrage of insincere flattery and egregious gifts that your classmates throw at you in hopes of securing your favour. At first, you tried to explain your opposition against being seen as just the $surname heir and that you had no strong feelings about the military or climbing the ranks. However, with your words falling on deaf ears again and again, you have taken to isolating yourself from the class. You let your clear disinterest in the class and their conversations serve as your answer. Your fingers shift imperceptibly and you peek through the cracks at Fred. The young boy is currently smirking and talking to the people around him. He exerts his influence with a willful attitude. Those who surround him have forced smiles and tense shoulders, plying Frederich with compliments and platitudes. Frederich appears larger amongst the curled in shoulders of those around him and he relishes in it. However, you are shaken from your observation by the pilot’s voice, alerting everyone to prepare for landing. The large figure of your instructor, Instructor Mbatha, leaves the co-pilot seat and starts his debriefing. “We will be landing in five minutes. Be on your feet and on the move as soon as the helicopter touches the deck. We will be touring the Dauntless today and there will be a special surprise near the end of the tour. I hope you are ready to show off what you have learnt under my instruction. Do not disappoint me!” His voice is loud and his face stern as he watches the class quickly yell “Yes, Sir!” in response. [[He nods and you wait for landing.]]

“If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask your Warrant Officer. Instructor Mbatha will also move between groups to keep an eye on you so I’m sure he would be happy to speak about his own short term on the Dauntless. I will see you all in four hours when I collect you for your surprise.” You move to follow Warrant Officer Vaughan but find yourself pulled back by Lieutenant Blake. He gives Warrant Officer Vaughan a small nod, the woman returning his nod subtly before she ushers your classmates below deck, quickly distracting them from your absence. “$name, your father wishes to speak with you.” Lieutenant Blake gestures for you to follow him, matching his stride with yours, escorting you across the flight deck. It has been almost six months since you have seen your father. The Dauntless crew rarely comes to land to restock and visit loved ones and with your father being an Admiral he is constantly on the move. If he is not on the warship then he is attending meetings or strategising with other high up officials. You feel: <fieldset>\ [[• Excited to see him, the two of you have a great relationship.]] [[• Happy to see him; you have a good relationship with your father]] [[• Dread take hold, you and your father do not have the best relationship.]] [[• Apathetic, you have no strong feelings towards your father.]] </fieldset>\

“How has the old man been? Is he still scaring the FNGs?” You ask cheekily, a grin stretching across your face as you think about the times you’ve hidden behind your father’s legs while he chewed out fresh squids. The crew members would struggle to keep themselves in check while your younger self pulled faces behind your father, taking delight in their torn expressions as they tried to save face. A lot of the older crew members know you and your family well; when you were younger you would be allowed to visit the warship and you were often found terrorising the crew and adding to your father’s collection of silver strands. It is easy to see them as part of your family having grown up around them and with how they treated you as an annoying younger sibling. However, as you grew older your own responsibilities made it difficult to see him and the crew as often. “All I can say is that I’m surprised he keeps getting a clean bill of health from the doctor.” Lieutenant Blake remarks drily, sidestepping your attempt to get him to gossip. “He has missed you, your siblings and your mother dearly. He had your class trip on his calendar for months and I dare say the surprise is for your benefit.” You smile brightly at Lieutenant Blake’s deliberate slip. You have always had a close relationship with your father. He would use what little free time he had to check-in and spend time with you and your siblings. You’ve managed to keep your relationship intact because of that and the fact that: <fieldset>\ [[• He expects you to follow in his footsteps and you always wanted the same.]] [[• While you are reluctant in inheriting the Admiral mantle you haven’t closed yourself to it fully.]] [[• You both avoid the topic of your future knowing that it is a sore point in your relationship]] </fieldset>\ <<set $greatrelationshipdad to true>>\

“How is he?” You ask sincerely, your brows drawing together as you try and recall the last time you were able to see your father and how he looked then. You are startled to realise that you can’t remember the last time you really stopped and had a proper chat with your father. While you have always been closer to your mother, you still had a good relationship with him. “Extremely busy.” Lieutenant Blake answers and when he spots your furrowed brows he adds, “But healthy. He passed the medical check with flying colours once again.” Your face smoothens in relief. “He has missed you, your siblings and your mother dearly. He had your class trip on his calendar for months and I dare say the surprise is for your benefit.” A smile stretches across your face at Lieutenant Blake’s deliberate slip. A lot of the older crew members know you and your family well; when you were younger you would be allowed to visit the warship and you were often found terrorising the crew and adding to your father’s collection of silver strands. It is easy to see them as part of your family having grown up around them and with how they treated you as an annoying younger sibling. However, as you grew older your own responsibilities made it difficult to see him and the crew as often. “Well, now I am even more curious about the surprise.” Your father always tried to make up for his time away at sea by surprising you and your siblings with little gifts or outings. You’ve managed to keep your relationship intact because of that and the fact that: <fieldset>\ [[• He expects you to follow in his footsteps and you always wanted the same.]] [[• While you are reluctant in inheriting the Admiral mantle you haven’t closed yourself to it fully.]] [[• You both avoid the topic of your future knowing that it is a sore point in your relationship]] </fieldset>\ <<set $goodrelationshipdad to true>>\

You try to stop yourself from fidgeting by crossing your arms over your chest, hiding your clenched fists under your arms. Dread takes hold and you can’t help but blurt out, “Did my father tell you why he wants to see me?” You force yourself to stare forward, tracking the movement of the soldiers on the flight deck, avoiding Lieutenant Blake’s curious glances. There is a pregnant pause before Lieutenant Blake answers, “I believe he wishes to check-in. Make sure you have adapted to your classes and you are well.” He speaks carefully, as if trying to placate a wild animal. You try to mask your anxiety, drawing your shoulders back and relaxing your face. “I see, it will be good to check up on him as well.” Your smile is stiff and your words come out rushed. Lieutenant Blake pretends to not notice, simply agreeing with your sentiment. You are comforted by his act. A lot of the older crew members know you and your family well; when you were younger you would be allowed to visit the warship and you were often found terrorising the crew and adding to your father’s collection of silver strands. It is easy to see them as part of your family having grown up around them and with how they treated you as an annoying younger sibling. However, as you grew older your own responsibilities made it difficult to see him and the crew as often. Perhaps that is when your relationship with him began to strain; It is difficult to pinpoint the exact cause of your distant relationship. <fieldset>\ [[You never saw it coming as you always wanted to follow in his footsteps, a point of pride for him|• He expects you to follow in his footsteps and you always wanted the same.]] [[• While you are reluctant in inheriting the Admiral mantle you haven’t closed yourself to it fully.]] [[• You both avoid the topic of your future knowing that it is a sore point in your relationship]] </fieldset>\ <<set $badrelationshipdad to true>>\

You sigh and click your tongue, “Do I have to?” When you receive no answer you release another sigh and begrudgingly follow Lieutenant Blake, dragging your feet and forcing the man to slow down to your pace. You can’t help but feel curious, you and your father were not particularly close, and it is strange that he would actively seek you out. You try again, “Did he mention the reason for our meeting?” There is a pregnant pause before Lieutenant Blake answers, “I believe he wishes to check-in. Make sure you have adapted to your classes and you are well.” You slowly nod, absorbing his words. Perhaps mother told him to make more of an effort, you think. Your relationship was neither good or bad, just distant, and suited you both fine but your mother didn’t seem to believe that. Likely because you used to be closer when you were younger and you would look forward to your visits to the Dauntless as a child to see your father. A lot of the older crew members know you and your family well because of those visits. The crew became like your second family. However, as you grew older your own responsibilities made it difficult to see him and the crew as often. Perhaps that is when your relationship with him grew distant. <fieldset>\ [[You never saw it coming as you always wanted to follow in his footsteps, a point of pride for him|• He expects you to follow in his footsteps and you always wanted the same.]] [[• While you are reluctant in inheriting the Admiral mantle you haven’t closed yourself to it fully.]] [[• You both avoid the topic of your future knowing that it is a sore point in your relationship]] </fieldset>\ <<set $distantrelationshipdad to true>>\

Your father has never shied away from the fact that he wants to pass on his mantle of Admiral to his eldest, you, and you have always worked towards that goal. The $surname name has been synonymous with the Navy for decades, ever since your great great grandfather discovered the first tear. During the Contact War your great great grandfather was out for a routine patrol when he and his crew discovered a tear in the veil. It was the first of its kind and it led to the discovery of where exilliums came from. The discovery marked a shift in the war and led to rapid innovations in technology and strategies. The military sent out hundreds of patrols and found other tears in the veil scattered across the continent. Barricades were formed and permanent stations built to keep watch and neutralise any threats that would crawl through. Your great great grandfather rapidly climbed the ranks after that discovery and created the $surname legacy. It is because of that legacy it was expected that anyone who bears the $surname name had to join the navy. The legacy expanded to a sort of superstition in the navy that if you had a $surname in the crew, your vessel would have good fortune. It started in your great great grandfather’s time and only continued on because of the sheer amount of people in your family tree. Your father is the eldest of thirteen and you’re thankful that your parents stopped at six. Your family seems to appear in every branch of the navy Before your siblings were born and you had to share your father’s attention, you would spend countless evenings in his office, discussing his time at the academy and pouring over his maps and journals. He would show you his compass, passed down from admiral to admiral in the family, and tell you how it would one day be yours and would guide you through even the roughest of waters. You would carefully run your finger across the gold embossed surface in awe. [[You are distracted from your thoughts when you spot a strange woman in the distance.]] <<set $wantadmiral to true>>

The $surname name has been synonymous with the Navy for decades; ever since your great great grandfather discovered the first tear. During the Contact War your great great grandfather was out for a routine patrol when he and his crew discovered a tear in the veil. It was the first of its kind and it led to the discovery of where exilliums came from. The discovery marked a shift in the war and led to rapid innovations in technology and strategies. The military sent out hundreds of patrols and found other tears in the veil scattered across the continent. Barricades were formed and permanent stations built to keep watch and neutralise any threats that would crawl through. Your great great grandfather rapidly climbed the ranks after that discovery and created the $surname legacy. It was both a blessing and a curse. It was expected that anyone who bears the $surname name had to join the navy. The legacy expanded to a sort of superstition in the navy that if you had a $surname in the crew, your vessel would have good fortune. It started in your great great grandfather’s time and only continued on because of the sheer amount of people in your family tree. Your father is the eldest of thirteen and you’re thankful that your parents stopped at six. Your family seems to appear in every branch of the navy and no one has broken that tradition; not your father or his many siblings and their children. The pressure to follow in your father’s footsteps was placed on you from young. He would never shy away from telling you about his dreams for you, how he couldn’t wait to have you on his crew and having the chance to pass down his compass like his mother passed it down to him. It was overwhelming yet you were desperate to meet his expectations. His affection was always the strongest when you were talking about his academy days and your future together in the navy. You tried to broach the topic of not entering the navy, once. It took your mother stepping in to pierce the suffocating vacuum that formed as you stared at your father’s heartbroken and disappointed expression. Your reluctance now sits purely in your mind, never to be spoken aloud. [[You are distracted from your thoughts when you spot a strange woman in the distance.]] <<set $reluctantadmiral to true>>

The $surname name has been synonymous with the Navy for decades; ever since your great great grandfather discovered the first tear. During the Contact War your great great grandfather was out for a routine patrol when he and his crew discovered a tear in the veil. It was the first of its kind and it led to the discovery of where exilliums came from. The discovery marked a shift in the war and led to rapid innovations in technology and strategies. The military sent out hundreds of patrols and found other tears in the veil scattered across the continent. Barricades were formed and permanent stations built to keep watch and neutralise any threats that would crawl through. Your great great grandfather rapidly climbed the ranks after that discovery and created the $surname legacy. It was both a blessing and a curse. It was expected that anyone who bears the $surname name had to join the navy. The legacy expanded to a sort of superstition in the navy that if you had a $surname in the crew, your vessel would have good fortune. It started in your great great grandfather’s time and only continued on because of the sheer amount of people in your family tree. Your father is the eldest of thirteen and you’re thankful that your parents stopped at six. Your family seems to appear in every branch of the navy and no one has broken that tradition; not your father or his many siblings and their children. Your father always expressed his desire for you to follow in his footsteps, to take on the mantle as he did for his mother and how she did for her father before her. He would spend countless evenings talking about his dreams for your future and you shouldered his expectations for years until one day you snapped under the weight. The screaming match that erupted was only defused when your mother stepped in, your then twelve year old brother watching anxiously from behind the doorway. She made it clear that there would be no further arguments over the matter and you watched your usually proud father bow to her words. The topic now is something you both avoid lest you bring your mother’s wrath down upon yourselves. [[You are distracted from your thoughts when you spot a strange woman in the distance.]] <<set $noadmiral to true>>

“Who’s that?” “Hmm?” Lieutenant Blake sounds distracted as his hand sweeps across his holopad, his eyes darting across the screen, having pulled out the holopad while you were wrapped up in your thoughts earlier. “The woman, perched on the rail, do you know who she is?” You try to focus his attention, pointing towards the precariously perched woman. She is squatting on the rails, feet planted on the thin metal rails and elbows resting on her knees. Her head is tilted up towards the sun, the light shining through the smoke from the cigarette dangling from her lips. She seems to be wearing some form of training gear, her athletic frame clad in shimmering black spandex-like tights and a loose white tank top that shows off her muscular arms. The brown skin of her neck and arms are marred with white scars, some faint and thin while others stretch across the expanse of her flesh. Her black hair is cut short; the back neatly trimmed and the top a bit more shaggy in style. There are grey hairs peppered amongst the black. Her eyes are closed as she sunbathes, the sun catching the rough skin that stretches from her left ear, across the bottom left half of her face and ends just past her jawline. It is reminiscent of an old burn mark, the skin puffy and tight in areas, but there is a strange black hue around the edges. She seems perfectly at peace while perched atop the rails, her body languid and still, unaffected by the outside world. “Ah, you were asking about Maria.” “Maria?” “Maria Rook. She is one of four Soulforge warriors that has been assigned to this vessel.” His eyes are no longer on his holopad, now focused on Maria, and there is a sense of admiration in his tone. “She is one of the oldest Soulforge in all of Azish. Most Soulforge fail to live past thirty yet she recently celebrated her forty-first birthday. She is truly one of Azish’s finest.” [[“Talk like that is what keeps me from retirement.”]]

“Talk like that is what keeps me from retirement, Lieutenant Blake,” a husky voice says, followed by a soft chuckle. You watch as the woman slowly rises from her squatting position, taking the remnants of her cigarette and flicking it overboard. In one smooth movement she turns on her heels and walks towards you, her feet making no sound on the metal rails even as she seemingly takes casual strides. “And we thank you for your selfless service. I know that myself and the other crew members can complete our own tasks knowing that you and your squad are protecting us.” His eyes are sparkling and voice earnest, coming alive under the eyes of Maria. She steps off the rails and lands silently in front of you and your escort. Her full height is barely 5’4” yet she strikes an imposing presence. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she casually leans back onto her left foot, her dark brown eyes moving over your frame. “Nothing to it, kid. Just doing our part to help, much like you and…” Her eyebrow raises as she draws out the last part of the sentence, her eyes piercing and observant as they seemingly trace all your details in a single glance. “Admiral $surname has charged me with escorting $name to the bridge to see him. He wished to discuss something with $name.” The navy soldier reports the situation in the resting position, his chest puffed out and eyes focused on the outer edge of the ocean. “Admiral $surname’s kid, huh?” A smirk stretches across Maria’s face as she says, “Guess you’re getting a tour of one of your future warships and crew.” <fieldset>\ [[• Reply politely]] [[• Reply arrogantly]] [[• Reply stoically]] [[• Reply sarcastically]] [[• Reply charmingly]] </fieldset>\

“I can only hope to work with such a fine crew once I have received the necessary experience and training.” Your tone is formal and polite, falling into your own resting position with a calm expression as you direct your gaze just above her head. Her hair rises and falls as she shakes her head, a small smile replacing her previous smirk. “You got a cool-head on your shoulders, kid. It will take you far. Rare to see a military brat who actually has potential and not just riding on the coattails of their family legacy.” She looks up, squinting her eyes up at the sky, before nodding to herself as if confirming something. “Right, it's decided. I’ll escort the kid, Blake. You go have yourself an early lunch, I’ll deliver $name to the Admiral.” “I-I was entrusted by the Admiral to escort- It would be unwise to just-” “He’ll understand.” “No wait-” Lieutenant Blake was left to stutter and watch with wide eyes as Maria ushered you away from under his nose, a gleeful two finger salute shot over her head as she escorted you away. You can only hope that she is still leading you to the bridge as requested by your father, a swagger to her walk as she leads you across the deck. [[You quickly follow]]

“It is expected that the $surname family will continue to reign over the seas, we have proven ourselves after all. I am merely next in line to ensure that. You will find that I am just as capable as all those who came before me.” You smirk at Maria and your tone is relaxed; arrogant. Her hair rises and falls as she shakes her head, chuckling with an almost astonished expression. “I hope you have the skills to back up that cocky attitude, kid. I’ve seen too many soldiers walk around with your kind of arrogance and die first.” Her eyes are cold but there is a tinge of curiosity as she examines you. She seems to be sizing you up, trying to gauge your potential, before nodding to herself as if confirming something. “Right, it's decided. I’ll escort the kid, Blake. You go have yourself an early lunch, I’ll deliver $name to the Admiral.” “I-I was entrusted by the Admiral to escort- It would be unwise to just-” “He’ll understand.” “No wait-” Lieutenant Blake was left to stutter and watch with wide eyes as Maria ushered you away from under his nose, a gleeful two finger salute shot over her head as she escorted you away. You can only hope that she is still leading you to the bridge as requested by your father, a swagger to her walk as she leads you across the deck. [[You quickly follow]]

“I suppose.” Your voice carries no emotion and your expression is blank, giving away nothing to her roaming eyes. As you observe Maria in return you take note of the almost imperceptible nod she gives to herself as she observes you. She straightens her once lax posture and gives you a small smirk, a chuckle escaping her mouth as she wags her finger at you. “If I had any doubts on who you were before, this would clear those doubts. Your father’s fingerprints are all over you.” Her smirk is gone and replaced with a contemplative stare but before you could ponder her words she nods to herself and says, “Right, it's decided. I’ll escort the kid, Blake. You go have yourself an early lunch, I’ll deliver $name to the Admiral.” “I-I was entrusted by the Admiral to escort- It would be unwise to just-” “He’ll understand.” “No wait-” Lieutenant Blake was left to stutter and watch with wide eyes as Maria ushered you away from under his nose, a gleeful two finger salute shot over her head as she escorted you away. You can only hope that she is still leading you to the bridge as requested by your father, a swagger to her walk as she leads you across the deck. [[You quickly follow]]

“Oh no, you’re mistaken, I just so happened to be passing by! I was in the area and decided to see what the fuss was all about. ” You gesture out towards the sea, at the endless expanse of blue as far as the eye can see, as you mention being in the area. A faux look of innocence and a smile on your face. You watch as her shoulders shake with laughter, a hoarse cackle escaping her lips. “Got a bite to you I see. Your instructors gotta love that.” You give a humble shrug, your smile never leaving. She continues once her laughter dies down, “You have definitely piqued my interest. Right, it's decided. I’ll escort the kid, Blake. You go have yourself an early lunch, I’ll deliver $name to the Admiral.” “I-I was entrusted by the Admiral to escort- It would be unwise to just-” “He’ll understand.” “No wait-” Lieutenant Blake was left to stutter and watch with wide eyes as Maria ushered you away from under his nose, a gleeful two finger salute shot over her head as she escorted you away. You can only hope that she is still leading you to the bridge as requested by your father, a swagger to her walk as she leads you across the deck. [[You quickly follow]]

“Well, I heard that there were beautiful women such as yourself aboard so I knew that I had to visit and see the sights for myself.” You shoot a wink at Maria and ignore the horrified expression of Lieutenant Blake; focusing on the amused Maria instead. Lieutenant Blake attempts to step in, sweat beading on his forehead, but Maria speaks first. “You’re too young for me, kid.” Her arms are crossed over her chest and she has cocked her hip, her lips curled into an amused smile. “If I had any doubts on who you were before, this would clear those doubts. Got your mother’s high society silver-tongue.” Your eyebrows shoot up, it is rare for someone to know your mother. However, before you could question her further she was already continuing. “Right, it's decided. I’ll escort the kid, Blake. You go have yourself an early lunch, I’ll deliver $name to the Admiral.” Her hands rest on her hips and she nods her head as if confirming the situation. “I-I was entrusted by the Admiral to escort- It would be unwise to just-” “He’ll understand.” “No wait-” Lieutenant Blake was left to stutter and watch with wide eyes as Maria ushered you away from under his nose, a gleeful two finger salute shot over her head as she escorted you away. You can only hope that she is still leading you to the bridge as requested by your father, a swagger to her walk as she leads you across the deck. [[You quickly follow]]

Maria leads you across the flight deck at a brisk pace. You absentmindedly take in the pulsefire cannons, service boats and embedded pulsefire beacons on the main deck, noting that some of the cannons were recent additions since you last boarded the warship to visit your father. Before you were placed into the accelerated class you often came out to sea with your father and learnt from him and his crew. Your eyes drift to one of the service boats, wondering if your old stickman drawings from your youth were still present on the metal. Your nostalgic reverie is broken by Maria clearing her throat, her eyebrow cocked as she gestures to the stairwell door, a hint of impatience in her hand wave as she beckons you to enter. The flight deck groans as you hurry across its metal floor to rush through the door Maria holds open. You find yourself in a narrow stairwell ascending to the bridge. For a brief period, there is just the sound of footsteps and breathing as you ascend but it is eventually broken by Maria. “So, you were thrown into one of those fancy accelerated schools like every other military brat. What’s that like?” While you hear mild curiosity in her tone, you struggle to pinpoint the other meaning in her voice. Her back is straight as she leads you up the staircase and through another corridor. You watch as soldiers stop to salute Maria in the corridor, all of them wearing the same awe-struck expression Lieutenant Blake wore, and how Maria waved them off with a smile and easy banter. She looks back at you expectantly, patiently waiting for your response. You carefully consider her question, thinking about the past five years in the acceleration program. [[You reflect on your five years]]

Maria wasn’t wrong, only children from military families tended to join the acceleration program. In rare cases a child from one of the public institutions would join if they were sponsored by a family because of the great potential they show but those cases were few and far between. The acceleration program is specially designed to give the highest level of education and training to aspiring military officers. Whether you planned on joining the airforce, navy or army, the acceleration program would give you the tools needed to succeed in Buchholz Academy. Buchholz is the largest military academy in Voxis and has helped shape many prominent military figures. The acceleration program was pitched as a way to ensure your child would stand out in Buchholz and therefore secure a favourable position when they leave. Ultimately the goal of any attendee is to go to the Soulforge Order but with only 2% of every year’s draft meeting their stringent requirements, that was an out of reach dream for many. This fact has led to a lot of students hoping to impress their instructors and the officials that came to the biannual evaluations. This was a surefire way to achieve more reasonable goals. As the child of Admiral $surname you were constantly held to a higher standard; every action scrutinised and judged. There was no space for mistakes or weakness. <fieldset>\ [[• You thrived under the pressure]] [[• You hide the cracks well]] [[• You were a disappointment]] [[• Everyone knew you did not want to be there]] </fieldset>\

“It is where the strong thrive and the weak perish,” You reply with a nonchalant shrug, “The instructors never shied away from training us harshly and if you couldn’t keep up you would be gone by the end of the week. My year started with 200 students. We are down to 80.” Everything is said in a matter-of-fact tone, your eyes focused forward. You miss the raised eyebrow of Maria. “You don’t sound bothered by that.” “Why would I be? I thrive under pressure.” And thrive you did. You were in the top percentile of the acceleration program. You studied and trained harder than the others; flourishing under the tutelage of the instructors and gaining recognition beyond your family’s name. You pushed past your breaking point and came out stronger each time. “Guess you $surname brats really are an insane bunch,” Maria laughs, the sound bouncing around the narrow metal corridor. It is not long before you finally stand in the Bridge, your father raising an eyebrow when he sees Maria next to you instead of Lieutenant Blake. “Decided I would deliver your brat myself, no need to thank me.” Before your father could speak she was already out the door, a lazy two finger salute tossed behind on the way out. <<if $greatrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• great relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $goodrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• good relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $badrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• bad relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $distantrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• distant relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\ <<set $topstudent to true>>

“It’s a very competitive program. Anyone would be lucky to attend.” You speak with a precise and deliberate cadence, your eyes never meeting Maria’s as you follow her down the corridor. A diplomatic answer; an answer that would make your political science lecturer proud. Maria gives a soft hum in response. “Did you see yourself as one of those lucky people?” Her words give you pause, a hiccup in your steps before you continue your stride. “I represent the $surname family,” Your voice cracks, you clear your throat before continuing, “I’ve always been lucky. Learning from Voxis’s top instructors has been a boon.” You think of the late nights, the crushing expectations and stress, and keep those moments of weakness to yourself. “I’m sure your parents are proud,” Maria says, something off about her tone. However, you don’t give it too much thought, instead you nod. Your nails biting into the flesh of your palm as you fight to keep your hands from shaking. It is not long before you finally stand in the Bridge, your father raising an eyebrow when he sees Maria next to you instead of Lieutenant Blake. “Decided I would deliver your brat myself, no need to thank me.” Before your father could speak she was already out the door, a lazy two finger salute tossed behind on the way out. <<if $greatrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• great relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $goodrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• good relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $badrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• bad relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $distantrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• distant relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\ <<set $topstudent to true>>

You shoot Maria a sardonic smile, “Imagine classrooms packed with young teenagers all fighting to make mummy and daddy proud by being the best soldier at school. That is pretty much my five year experience in the acceleration program.” Maria whistles a long, low note and then chuckles, “That bad, huh?” “I failed to live up to my name,” You shrug, “The instructors always expected more because of who my father is so my best was never quite good enough.” You tilt your head up, staring at the dull metal, avoiding Maria's frown and concerned eyes. “I guess at some point I just stopped trying.” You really did try at the start. You climbed the academic ladder rapidly and stood out from the rest, but the longer you stood at the top, the more weight you had to bear. The expectations chipped away at you, the instructors and other students suffocating you, until you stumbled and fell, losing their admiration and respect. You decided it was easier to fly under the radar than risk the shame of stumbling again. “The real world is nothing like school. You’ll find your footing out here. Choose your own path,” Maria says gently, patting your back. She doesn't speak again and you find yourself thankful for the silence; allowing you to be alone with your thoughts. However, it is not long before you finally stand in the Bridge, your father raising an eyebrow when he sees Maria next to you instead of Lieutenant Blake. “Decided I would deliver your brat myself, no need to thank me.” Before your father could speak she was already out the door, a lazy two finger salute tossed behind on the way out. <<if $greatrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• great relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $goodrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• good relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $badrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• bad relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $distantrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• distant relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<set $mediocrestudent to true>>

“I'm sure the acceleration program was a great learning experience for those who wanted to be there.” You say lightly, a small smile on your face. “Unfortunately, I did not and I made that quite clear.” Maria lets out a startled laugh, looking at you in disbelief. “An Admiral's kid causing trouble? I must be dreaming!” “I could pinch you if you want.” “How did your parents take your act of rebellion?” There is genuine curiosity in Maria's tone. She has slowed down, walking alongside you in the corridor now so she can look at you, because of that she catches the grimace that flashes across your face briefly. “Well, I can safely say the battlefield was safer than my home the first weekend back.” Maria cackled, slapping your shoulder and forcing you to stumble forward from the unexpected force behind it. Maria seemed to think you were exaggerating but she wasn't there to see the fallout that your instructor's letter wrought. It started as a screaming match and then became a cold war. Your parents believed you were wasting your potential; squandering the resources they were gifting to you on a silver platter. However, you never wanted to follow in their footsteps or learn from the military’s strongest and brightest. Maria brings you out of your thoughts with her words, “Well kid, you definitely have more backbone than most soldiers and you didn't need any program to teach you that.” The final stretch to the Bridge was walked in a comfortable silence. When you arrived, your father raised an eyebrow when he saw Maria next to you instead of Lieutenant Blake. “Decided I would deliver your brat myself, no need to thank me.” Before your father could speak she was already out the door, a lazy two finger salute tossed behind on the way out. <<if $greatrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• great relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $goodrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• good relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $badrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• bad relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<if $distantrelationshipdad is true>>[[You note the subtle flaring of his nostrils as he gestures for you to follow him to his office|• distant relationship v]]<</if>>\ <<set $badstudent to true>>

Admiral $surname straightens in his seat and begins to speak with the authority of a seasoned leader, “I reached out to Instructor Mbatha personally and volunteered the Dauntless as the ideal field trip location for your class.” He carefully laces his gloved hands together on top of his desk, “It would offer a great learning experience for those who wish to enlist in the navy and perhaps sway those who were undecided on their path.” His gaze bears down on you and you feel yourself subconsciously straightening under his piercing eyes. “The tour is just one small step towards that goal. The key to securing your class’s interest is tied to the surprise.” He slowly turns in his chair, stopping once he is facing his window that overlooks the flight deck. A smile slowly grows across his face as he watches his crew work like a well-oiled machine as they work to refuel and send off aircrafts. “I have enlisted the help of the soulforge on board to give a demonstration to your class. They will show you and your classmates what it means to be a soulforge and if they are feeling generous, perhaps even run a small workshop for you all.” Your mouth hangs open, too stunned to speak as you absorb your father’s words, eyes large. “They agreed?” “Well, I was rather persuasive.” He says with a grimace, his fingers twitching before he stills them by tightening his grasp. You’re not sure what he did to get them to agree but it must have been a steep price. The soulforge are notoriously tightlipped about their training and often isolate themselves from the other military branches. The information the public has access to about the order has been carefully curated and sanitised; they guard their secrets closely. The shroud around them adds to the intrigue and awe people have for the order. They are untouchable figures; those specially chosen to eliminate the exillium. There are whispers, rumours that have reached every ear, that the soulforge warriors bear what little traces of divinity the Old Gods have left in Azish. “I hope you will take advantage of this opportunity to learn from one of the strongest groups in all of Azish. It is hard to find a group with more accolades than the one Maria presides over.” [[Your father stands, walking to stand in front of you]]

He stops an arms length away and you watch as his face softens, in his facial expression was a weariness you have never seen before, “Azish is falling ever deeper into chaos, $name. Every day, reports cross my desk and I am reminded of how quickly life can be snuffed out; of families that will never see their loved ones again.” <<link 'How does your father see you?'>> <<pronouns>> <</link>> <<nobr>>His eyes, the exact shade of <<cycle "$eyecolour" autoselect>> <<option "light brown">> <<option "dark brown">> <<option "light blue">> <<option "dark blue">> <<option "hazel">> <<option "amber">> <<option "grey">> <<option "light green">> <<option "dark green">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> as your own, seem to be searching for something. Imploring you to hear his words. “So use this as a stepping stone, make use of the tools I am handing to you now, and become the capable heir who I know will survive anything thrown at you.” His gloved hands rest on your shoulders and you find yourself unable to pull away, his grip like steel. Your eyes dart across your father’s face, a face you share many similarities with, <<nobr>>and take in the wrinkles you’ve never seen before across his <<cycle "$skincolour" autoselect>> <<option "golden brown">> <<option "tawny">> <<option "porcelain">> <<option "olive">> <<option "beige">> <<option "tan">> <<option "rosy">> <<option "bronze">> <<option "umber">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> skin. <<nobr>>His normally slicked back <<cycle "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "strawberry blonde">> <<option "golden blonde">> <<option "mousy brown">> <<option "chestnut brown">> <<option "auburn">> <<option "ginger">> <<option "dark red">> <<option "jet black">> <<option "silver">> <<option "white">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> hair is slightly disheveled, strands falling over his forehead. He is a large man, muscular and tall, <<nobr>> while you are <<cycle "$bodytype" autoselect>> <<option "lanky">> <<option "slender">> <<option "athletic">> <<option "burly">> <<option "stocky">> <<option "ample">> <<option "lean">> <<option "wiry">> <<option "voluptuous">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>>. You are young; still growing. <<if $greatrelationshipdad is true>>You always loved hearing how much you resemble your father from the Dauntless crew, the man you look up to, and often joined in on the jokes about being his mini-me. Your father’s chest would puff out in pride when you were compared, pulling you in for a hug. But now you can’t help but wonder if people have ever seen this look of fear on your own face before. If they were as disturbed as you are to see the naked desperation barely kept from bubbling out. <<elseif $goodrelationshipdad is true>>You would always laugh along when people would ask if your mother’s genes even tried. Your father’s chest would puff out in pride when you were compared, pulling you in for a hug. But now, with growing dread, you wonder if people have ever seen this look of fear on your own face before. If they were as disturbed as you are to see the naked desperation barely kept from bubbling out. <<elseif $badrelationshipdad is true>>You feel your hands grow clammy and dread pushing against your chest as you remember your childhood. The Dauntless crew would joke about your resemblance to your father, how at first your father was proud, then as your relationship soured the remarks disappeared. You wonder if you have ever stared at your father with this level of naked desperation that he bears now. <<elseif $distantrelationship is true>>You were never bothered by the constant remarks of your resemblance to your father. You would simply nod in acknowledgement or shrug at the obvious statement but now you can’t help but wonder if people have ever seen this look of fear on your own face before. If they were as disturbed as you are to see the naked desperation barely kept from bubbling out.<</if>> “Dad, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you this shaken up before.” Your trembling voice is like a bucket of ice water thrown over him, he recoils from you, his hands shaking before he tightly clasps them together behind his back. He turns away from you, his wide shoulders tense, and he moves to stand in front of his office’s west wall where all his achievements and photos hang. “I… I’m sorry, $name.” His voice carried a sense of bitterness, “This old man lost himself for a moment, forgive me.” He hesitates then continues on, a strained edge to his words, “But please keep my words in mind when you find yourself at the demonstration later. You are off to the academy next year.” He releases the tight grip on his hands and you track the hand that slowly reaches up to touch a framed photo of your family carefully, his voice now a whisper, “You only have four years of safety left.” You want to press him for more information, ask him what he has read in his reports to make him arrange all this, drag the truth out from his lips. But you never get the chance. Lieutenant Blake appears at the door, as if summoned by your father, and gently escorts you away. All you can do is throw one last look at your father’s bowed back. [[You join your group and finish your tour, your father’s words haunting your every step]] <<set $nohaircolour to false>>\ <<set $yeshaircolour to true>>\ <<set $noeyecolour to false>>\ <<set $yeseyecolour to true>>\ <<set $noskincolour to false>>\ <<set $yesskincolour to true>>\ <<set $nobodytype to false>>\ <<set $yesbodytype to true>>\

Lunch was an arduous task. Your classmates swarmed around you and the canteen table whined under the weight of far too many bodies packed tightly on its steel benches as they scrambled over each other to ask you about the warship, the crew and your disappearance. A sigh of pure relief escaped your lips when Lieutenant Blake appeared to escort your class. The bubbling excitement of your classmates threatened to spill over when he announced that he was here to escort everyone to the surprise. You were pushed and prodded as everyone tried to pry out what the surprise could be from you. Only Frederich remained unphased, content to scoff and turn his nose up at the entire event. However, even his indifference could not dampen the fervent chatter of your classmates. Chatter that only grew louder as you travelled further into the warship, passing the engine room and crew quarters, until you could all hear a rhythmic banging coming from behind a large metal door. The plaque on the door reads: practice room, and the rhythmic banging sound was soon replaced by a shrill scraping sound. The class reached its boiling point as they found themselves herded by Lieutenant Blake crew and Instructor Mbatha into the room and bore direct witness to what was causing the strange sounds. “Easy there, Maria! I won’t be able to help teach the new-bloods if you dislocate my shoulder.” A large man dressed in a shimmering black spandex-like full body suit calls out. He rolls across the mat, deftly avoiding Maria’s barrage of blunted daggers, springing to his feet when there is a pause in her assault. [[Your classmates awed gasps alert the soulforge to your arrival]]

“You arrived early!” The man speaks with a rich baritone, a warm smile on his face as he brushes himself off and walks to stand in front of your class. Everyone, even Instructor Mbatha, has to strain their neck to stare up at the 6’8” man. His voice booms across the large practice room as he calls out to his comrades, “Zalim! Ramla! The cadets have arrived.” A door opens and you watch as a man and woman appear, they move to stand next to Maria and the man. “Thank you, Captain Wilson.” Lieutenant Blake recovers from the abrupt shift with practiced ease, saluting the group before he begins the introductions. “Cadets, in front of you stands one of the greatest squadrons Voxis’s Soulforge branch has ever produced, the Abyssal Knights.” Much like when Lieutenant Blake spoke of Maria to you before, his voice takes on a reverent tone. And like Maria, the Abyssal Knights have earned that reverence. It is rare for any Soulforge squadron to stay stationed in one area, squadrons tend to move constantly around Azish and their members are on an ever shifting roster, but the Abyssal Knights have been with the Dauntless for 5 years. Soulforge squadrons act as a special forces response team, dealing with exillium threats as they are called in. However, there are rare cases where a team is carefully handpicked and entrusted with a long term mission. The Abyssal Knights are such a team having been tasked with guarding the Dauntless and taking up permanent residence on the warship; only leaving when the crew takes their shore leave and if they are called on by other ships in case of emergencies. With the Dauntless serving as the main research hub and vanguard of the Voxis Tear’s barricade, a constant watch is necessary, and they earned their reputation by proving the necessity of their presence. You remember that day vividly. You, along with your five siblings and mother, watched in horror as your father’s ship was nearly torn in half by a squid-like exillium. The creature had barbed tentacles that tore through the metal hulls as if they were tissue paper and black ichor that sprayed across the firing cannons; dissolving them almost instantly. The twins gripped your hands tight enough to cause your hands to go numb, burying their faces into your shirt to sob as you watched your father valiantly usher his crew onto the evacuating helicopters. It was nothing short of a miracle that Maria and her fellow Soulforge were able to beat back the exillium. [[One by one the Abyssal Knights stepped forward to introduce themselves]]

“Nice to meet you all! I’m Cain Wilson, the brawn and looks of my squadron.” Cain barely flinches from the jab he takes from Maria’s elbow, his bright grin staying firmly in place even as you watch Maria’s elbow push into the flesh of his ribs. She is tiny next to him, barely reaching his chest, but you’re sure if it was anyone else hit by her elbow they would be bent over. Cain’s blonde hair is buzzed and his biceps are the size of most of your classmates' heads; he nods towards a man with neat black hair, brown skin and a small goatee in his squadron. He steps forward, the training room lights catching the dark purple rings under his light brown eyes and he introduces himself with a monotone voice, “Zalim Singh. Reconnaissance.” He steps back as quickly as he had stepped forward. He stumbles a bit when Cain pats his back and Zalim shoots him an unimpressed look. A woman with dark brown skin and braided hair steps forward next and introduces herself with a crisp and professional tone, “Ramla Mkhize, my role is communications. I maintain and operate our communications equipment, establish lines of communication and help with strategic planning.” Maria introduces herself last, running her hand through her shaggy locks and appearing nonchalant as she looks over your class, her eyes briefly pausing on you before continuing her assessment. “Maria Rook. Team Leader and Vanguard.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans onto her back foot, “So, who wants to train with us?” Like a bomb going off, there is an explosion of voices and bodies springing forward, hands waving frantically in the air. Maria laughs, “Alright alright, you’re an eager bunch. I’m going to split you off, match you with a trainer that would benefit your skill set, and then we can get this workshop started.” Your class is swiftly divided, Maria reading off a list that must have been handed to her by Instructor Mbatha as you watch your classmates line up behind trainers that best suit their strengths. Your name is called and you find yourself lining up in front of: <fieldset>\ [[• Maria and Cain - the sword and shield of the squadron, their combat prowess is well-known.]] [[• Zalim and Ramla - the tech savant and master tactician, it is said that their combined ingenuity stopped the S-Class exillium from sinking the Dauntless.]] </fieldset>\

The line in front of Maria and Cain was long, just over half your class present, and you found yourself behind Frederich and his friends. His indifferent attitude is long gone and replaced by a hungry and focused expression, his eyes wide and unblinking eyes as he stares at Cain and Maria. The line ripples as people take turns poking their head to the side or straining onto their tiptoes to look at what Maria and Cain were preparing for your group. Poking your head around you see Maria and Cain moving a weapon rack, with blunted and rubber daggers and spears, and extra training mats next to the area cordoned off by drones. The four drones have formed a boxing ring-esque arena, blue beams shooting out from each drone and creating a 20ft square. You watch Maria wave her hand through one of the beams and it flashes red and releases a loud buzzing sound. They quickly work to place extra padding on the floor and arrange the weapon rack. Once satisfied they begin to separate your group into teams, half of you with Cain and the other half with Maria. You find yourself facing Maria who shoots you a discrete, sly wink before launching into her explanation. “We’re going to use a mock battle to gauge your skill level. In your assigned team you will fight together against Cain or myself. We want to see your teamwork, ability to adapt mid-combat and battle awareness. The victory condition is simple: land a hit on Cain or I and you win. You will decide how you approach this battle amongst yourselves.” Maria waits to see if there are any questions, the group look at each other before a boy slowly raises his hand, “Does that mean this is a team based game?” Cain nods, “We are preparing you for life outside of the academy. Missions are too dangerous to go in alone so you need to learn how to work in a team and rely on one another. If everyone pulls their weight then success is more likely.” Maria takes over, she taps her chest and you watch as her nano-suit flashes briefly before displaying a red circle where her fist tapped on her sternum. “Head shots are prohibited and rubber weapons will be used for the exercise.” She smirks and waves your group towards the weapon rack, “Now show me what you've learnt from your instructors.” <fieldset>\ <<if $playerleadership >= 10>>[[• You choose the daggers, preferring the short range weapons, and take a leadership role for your team]]<<elseif $playerleadership <= 10>>Choice Unavailable<</if>> [[• You choose the daggers, preferring the short range weapons, and work alongside your team]] [[• You choose the daggers, preferring the short range weapons, and choose to work alone.]] <<if $playerleadership >= 10>>[[• You choose the spear, preferring the long reach of the weapon, and take a leadership role for your team]]<<elseif $playerleadership <= 10>>Choice Unavailable<</if>> [[• You choose the spear, preferring the long reach of the weapon, and work alongside your team]] [[• You choose the spear, preferring the long reach of the weapon, and choose to work alone.]] <<if $playerleadership >= 10>>[[• You choose the sword and shield, preferring the balance of defensive and offensive power, and take a leadership role for your team]]<<elseif $playerleadership <= 10>>Choice Unavailable<</if>> [[• You choose the sword and shield, preferring the balance of defensive and offensive power, and work alongside your team]] [[• You choose the sword and shield, preferring the balance of defensive and offensive power, and choose to work alone.]] </fieldset>\

Zalim carefully looks over the gathered group in front of him and Ramla, scratching at his goatee absent-mindedly, his lips moving wordlessly. Eventually he nods to himself, “Six of you, more than I expected, we can work with that. Follow me.” He walks with long strides towards the training room wall and at first glance, the wall appears to be just that, but when he places his palm against the cool metal suddenly a piece of it slides away, revealing a staircase. Ramla, bringing up the rear, ushers you all up the staircase and into a dimly lit room. The room lights are off, only the multiple holo-screens illuminating the room. There is a large table in the middle of the room, a holographic map of the Dauntless floating above it, and four chairs haphazardly scattered around the table. The holographic screens float around the room, each displaying something different. Some show news channels, tracking current events and attacks around Azish, others seem to be recordings of training sessions between the Abyssal Knights for reviewing purposes. You can see diagrams and arrows with information appearing on the slowed down footage. There are even some holo-screens with what appear to be blueprints. However, before you can look too closely at the blueprints your attention is called back to Ramla and Zalim. The two stand in front of your group, their holopads out, and you hear a familiar chime as your own vibrates in your pocket. Pulling your holopad out you see an unknown app prompting you to click enter. [[Your finger presses enter]]

The screen blinks and you are taken to what appears to be a simulation game. A blank faced avatar greets you, asking you to fill in your name. Once your name is entered, you find yourself transported into the middle of a battlefield. The settlement has been razed to the ground, homes reduced to ash and the protective wall and its watchtowers torn down, only a lone watchtower still stands and you can spot multiple C-Class exilliums roaming around the wreckage. The scenario is frozen and your attention is drawn away from your screen by Ramla’s voice “On each of your holopads is a simulation of a reconnaissance mission. Your mission is simple; you are to infiltrate the razed settlement, gather information about the enemy and the state of the settlement, and then establish a line of communication between yourself and your squadron.” “In this scenario, for whatever reason, all your ear pieces have been damaged in the initial jump from your aircraft and the strong winds have separated your group. You are all around the settlement but you have lost contact with each other.” Ramla speaks with her hands and Zalim stands next to her with folded arms over his chest, “There are two conditions for victory.” Zalim takes over, “You can either scout ahead and focus on gathering information about the enemy and settlement, basic gadgets will be in your inventory for this purpose, or you can establish a line of communication between yourself and the others. The mission will be counted as a success if the correct information about the exilliums and settlement is shared to at least two people in your team.” “You will fail if you are caught by an exillium or you exceed the allocated two hour time limit. Are there any questions?” The group look at each other before a boy slowly raises his hand, “Does that mean this is a team based game?” Zalim nods, “We are preparing you for life outside of the academy. You will never be alone on a mission. The key to success is to work alongside your team members; if everyone pulls their weight then success is more likely.” A few murmurs travel around the room before you all voice your wish to begin to Zalim and Ramla. <fieldset>\ [[• You decide to prioritise reconnaissance; leaving the establishing of communication to others]] [[• You decide to prioritise communications; leaving the reconnaissance to others]] </fieldset>\

The screen blinks to life and the exilliums begin to lumber across the settlement, guttural roars echoing from your holopad as the bear-like creatures snuffle at the destroyed walls and buildings, large paws claw at the wood and metal trying to find any stragglers. You carefully manipulate your avatar behind a ruined building, observing their movements from a safe distance. Currently, your avatar is crouched near the settlement gate and from your vantage point you can only spot three exilliums. The exilliums are bear-like in appearance, their large bodies give off black wispy smoke and their gold eyes are constantly scanning their surroundings, and their powerful stocky legs allow them to easily drive their clawed paws into the rubble to search for humans. Their snuffling and roars grow softer and softer as they move further into the settlement, the distance dulling their calls. Carefully you search your inventory, seeing what gadget Ramla and Zalim made available to you for the mission. The menu displays a drone that would require it to be manually controlled and monitored. [[You deploy the remote controlled drone]]

The screen blinks to life and the exilliums begin to lumber across the settlement, guttural roars echoing from your holopad as the bear-like creatures snuffle at the destroyed walls and buildings, large paws claw at the wood and metal trying to find any stragglers. You carefully manipulate your avatar behind a ruined building, observing their movements from a safe distance. Currently, your avatar is crouched near the settlement gate and from your vantage point you can only spot three exilliums. The exilliums are bear-like in appearance, their large bodies give off black wispy smoke and their gold eyes are constantly scanning their surroundings, and their powerful stocky legs allow them to easily drive their clawed paws into the rubble to search for humans. Their snuffling and roars grow softer and softer as they move further into the settlement, the distance dulling their calls. Carefully you search your inventory, checking to see what was available to help with your mission. The menu shows a basic repair kit and a few tools available in your inventory. It seems you will need to search for objects that could be converted into a communication device as well as parts to help with the repairs. [[You decide to search one of the destroyed office buildings]]

Selecting the remote controlled drone from the menu you watch as it appears before your avatar, the simple orb-shaped hovering bot beeps softly, and it awaits your inputs. Switching to the control menu you command the drone to follow you and you slowly stealth away from the broken building and towards the lone standing watchtower, hoping to hide away while you focus your attention on your drone. The drone is sent to scout ahead numerous times during the journey, ensuring no exilliums were on your path, and you were able to reach the watchtower without trouble. You crept up the ladder and when you entered through the hatch you were startled to find the watchtower already occupied, a grey avatar crouched over two old walkie-talkies and tools in hand. They jump, not expecting company, but quickly recover. “What are you focusing on? I am trying to fix these old walkie-talkies I found in this tower and then I’m going to try to pass it to another team member to secure a line of communication.” The text bubble appears above the grey avatar’s head and you quickly type your own response. “I’m focusing on reconnaissance. I plan on using my drone to track and observe the exilliums and search for any survivors if there are any.” You see three dots appear and disappear above their head as they type before they reply. “That’s great, we can work together! We cover both mission objectives.” <fieldset>\ <<if $playerleadership >= 10>>[[• You quickly fall into the leadership role, instructing the grey avatar to fix the walkie-talkies and follow your plan]] <<elseif $playerleadership <= 10>>Choice Unavailable<</if>> [[• You agree and work alongside the grey avatar]] [[• You tell the grey avatar that you have your own plan and you don’t want to work together]] </fieldset>\

“We’ll be able to achieve our goal faster if we work together.” You quickly agree, typing furiously as you lay out your plan to your teammate, “I’ll scout ahead and gather information on the enemies movements and their patterns while also keeping an eye out for any other player avatar. You focus on your repairs. Once your repairs are done I’ll bring my drone back and transport the walkie-talkie to the nearest avatar.” The grey avatar nods and you continue, “When the communication line is established you’ll be in charge of the walkie-talkie, reporting my findings from my drone to our other teammate.” They flash a thumbs up and you both quickly get to work. Sending your drone zipping through the air you maneuver the bot around the destroyed building and staying in the blindspots of the exilliums. You count ten exilliums in the settlement and you are able to spot a yellow avatar hiding in a tree holding a strange joystick-like device. The grey avatar alerts you that the repairs have been completed and you quickly fly your drone back to the watchtower to pick up the walkie-talkie and deliver it to the yellow avatar. It is not long before communication is established and you are told that the yellow avatar spotted two survivors in a nearby building. The team works like a well-oiled machine under your command. You track the movements of the exilliums through your drone, reporting the coordinates to your teammate who informs the yellow avatar so they are able to safely traverse through the settlement and find the last of your teammates. When the yellow avatar receives an old phone from the blue avatar a large pop up appears on your screen with the words, congratulations, and you are kicked from the simulation. [[“Well done, students. I will admit, you did better than I expected.”]] <<set $zandrleadership to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\

You nod and furiously type out your agreement, “We’ll be able to achieve our goal faster if we work together. How should we approach this?” The two of you brainstorm a plan of action and after a bit of back and forth you finalise your plan. The two of you decided to utilise your drone to scout ahead and gather information on the enemies movements and their patterns while also keeping an eye out for any other player avatar. In the meantime the grey avatar would focus their attention on repairs. Once their repairs are done you’ll bring your drone back and transport the walkie-talkie to the nearest avatar. With that, a communication line is established and they’ll be tasked with reporting your findings from your drone to the other avatar through the walkie-talkie. Satisfied you both get to work. Sending your drone zipping through the air you maneuver the bot around the destroyed building and staying in the blindspots of the exilliums. You count ten exilliums in the settlement and you are able to spot a yellow avatar hiding in a tree holding a strange joystick-like device. The grey avatar alerts you that the repairs have been completed and you quickly fly your drone back to the watchtower to pick up the walkie-talkie and deliver it to the yellow avatar. It is not long before communication is established and you are told that the yellow avatar spotted two survivors in a nearby building. A lot of your allocated time is then used up by the constant discussions for what the next move should be, no one taking direct command and everything being left to a group decision. Eventually, you are able to move forward and you track the movements of the exilliums through your drone, reporting the coordinates to your teammate who informs the yellow avatar so they are able to safely traverse through the settlement and find the last of your teammates. When the yellow avatar receives an old phone from the blue avatar a large pop up appears on your screen with the words, congratulations, and you are kicked from the simulation. [[“Your time was running low but you pulled through in the end.”]] <<set $zandrteamplayer to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\

You shake your avatar’s head and type a reply, “I have my own plan and I would rather execute it alone.” You watch the grey avatar start typing, stop and start again multiple times before settling on a final, “Okay.” The response is followed by an awkward silence in the watchtower as you both focus on your own tasks, no further communication occurring. With no distractions you focus all your attention onto your drone, flying the bot carefully through the settlement. You make a mental note of the number of exilliums you find throughout the settlement, their positions and behaviour. The drone squeezes through the small cracks of buildings and looks for any survivors, finding four people hiding amongst the fallen rubble. You gather all the information methodically and carefully, recording the data in your drone, and once you are satisfied you send your drone to look for someone in the area to share the information with. You considered bringing the information back to the grey avatar but once their repairs were completed they left the watchtower to find someone to give the other walkie-talkie to. It takes far longer than you anticipated to find someone who had a line of communication established and you feel your body tense as you watch your time tick down. Your drone prints out the data you collected and hands it to the blue avatar and you see them use the repaired old phone to call in the data to a teammate. However, you did not work fast enough, as in the middle of the call a large pop up appears on your screen with the words, you have failed, and you are kicked from the simulation. [[“A disappointing performance, some more than others”]] <<set $zandrlonewolf to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\

Zalim remarks, his tone dry but he wears a small smile on his face. “Gather around the table, Ramla and I will go over what we expected and how you can improve for the future.” You share ecstatic smiles with your group as you all rush to stand around the table, the Dauntless hologram replaced with the simulation's settlement map. Ramla and Zalim begin their lecture. They methodically go through the mission, praising your teamwork and giving advice on where your team could improve. The hour passes in the blink of an eye as your class learns from the best, absorbing their teachings with ravenous hunger. At the end of the session, you and your class are escorted back to the flight deck by the Abyssal Knights where your father is waiting. He stands tall and with his back to your group, his shadow stretches across the deck and disappears over the edge of the ship as the sun sets behind him, half his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun. Once closer you see that he is facing the Voxis Tear, a pulsating and rippling mass that distorts the very air around it, his eyes focused on the whirlpool that lives beneath the tear. [[“For many of you, this will be your first glimpse of the Voxis Tear”|Zalim and Ralma Version]]

A hushed silence falls over your class as the excitement from training with the Abyssal Knights dies as you all slowly approach the railing of the Dauntless. A soft, static-like whine that thrums in time with the strange black tendrils that thrash out of the Tear replace the previous murmurs. The Abyssal Knights stand behind your father, their faces solemn as they gaze into the Tear, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you stare alongside them. “Five years ago, thanks to the bravery and strength of those who I work with, the Dauntless survived a S-Class attack. If it was not for the Soulforge who fought the exillium, the flight crew that prepped the evacuation helicopters and the navy soldiers who manned their stations during the crisis, a truly unprecedented tragedy could have occurred.” Your father turns slowly, his broad shoulders eclipsing the setting sun and Tear, his eyes moving over each student and only pausing briefly when they reach yours. “Every day, my crew and I stand between the exillium that pour out of the Tear and Voxis city, and we are only able to do that because of the training we received from the academy. Next year, you will begin that same training and I hope you remember this day as a reminder of what you are fighting for.” He lets his words hang in the air, “Never lose sight of what you are protecting.” “We won’t forget your wise words, Admiral.” Instructor Mbatha replies and at his silent prompting the class quickly echo his words. Your father nods and shakes Instructor Mbatha’s hand, the two moving to the side to have a hushed conversation, and soon you and your class are being escorted back to the helicopter, ready to take you back to the city. <<if $zandrleadership is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Zalim and Ramla, catching Maria’s interest, and you see the pair gesture to the helicopter and a large and proud smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression. Maria throws back her head at the sight, laughing heartily as she pats his back.<<elseif $zandrteamplayer is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Zalim and Ramla, catching Maria’s interest, and you see the pair gesture to the helicopter and a faint smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression. Maria grins and pokes your father’s side with a finger.<<elseif $zandrlonewolf is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Zalim and Ramla, catching Maria’s interest, and you see the pair gesture to the helicopter. His body tenses and when he turns to look at you, you see that his nostrils are flaring and his jaw is clenched, his eyes thunderous. Maria shakes her head and you see her close her eyes as she sighs.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and you watch as the Tear suddenly pulsates and hundreds of black tendrils rip out from its maw, rapidly descending onto the Dauntless and towards you and the helicopter. You try to fight against the black tendrils but they latch onto your body, surging across your body and engulfing you. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the tendrils burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The ichor of the tendrils makes you anew, staining everything within you with its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]]

Zalim remarks with a raised eyebrow, his lips pulled into a smirk. “Gather around the table, Ramla and I will go over what we expected and how you can improve for the future.” You share relieved smiles with your group as you all rush to stand around the table, the Dauntless hologram replaced with the simulation's settlement map. Ramla and Zalim begin their lecture. They methodically go through the mission, praising your teamwork and reminding you all that having a clear leader to command people and strategise is how to maximise your efficiency. The hour passes in the blink of an eye as your class learns from the best, absorbing their teachings with ravenous hunger. At the end of the session, you and your class are escorted back to the flight deck by the Abyssal Knights where your father is waiting. He stands tall and with his back to your group, his shadow stretches across the deck and disappears over the edge of the ship as the sun sets behind him, half his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun. Once closer you see that he is facing the Voxis Tear, a pulsating and rippling mass that distorts the very air around it, his eyes focused on the whirlpool that lives beneath the tear. [[“For many of you, this will be your first glimpse of the Voxis Tear”|Zalim and Ralma Version]]

Zalim directs his stare towards you, clucking his tongue, “Failure was guaranteed as soon as opinions differed on how to best approach the common goal.” He sighs and waves to Ramla to take over, the woman stepping forward to continue. “You are placed in squadrons for a reason. The exilliums don’t care about your morals, ideals or attitude. They just seek to destroy.” She hangs on the word destroy, letting the word bear down on you, her eyes moving across the room as she speaks. “If you believe yourself above the need for teamwork, you don’t only endanger yourself but those around you. Today was only a simulation but when you fulfill your mandatory service, you will be responsible for real lives.” Only the sound of shuffling feet and murmurs could be heard at the end of Ramla’s speech, your classmates’ avoiding you as you all slowly gathered around the table, the Dauntless hologram replaced with the simulation's settlement map. Ramla and Zalim begin their lecture. They methodically go through the mission, praising the group’s ability to adapt and reminding you all that having a clear leader to command people and strategise is how to maximise your efficiency as well as a pointed statement about teamwork. The hour passes in the blink of an eye as your class learns from the best, absorbing their teachings with ravenous hunger. At the end of the session, you and your class are escorted back to the flight deck by the Abyssal Knights where your father is waiting. He stands tall and with his back to your group, his shadow stretches across the deck and disappears over the edge of the ship as the sun sets behind him, half his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun. Once closer you see that he is facing the Voxis Tear, a pulsating and rippling mass that distorts the very air around it, his eyes focused on the whirlpool that lives beneath the tear. [[“For many of you, this will be your first glimpse of the Voxis Tear”|Zalim and Ralma Version]]

Looking around you spot a caved in wall on the side of a three storey building. You dart through the hole and find yourself next to a surprisingly intact staircase and after cautiously testing the first three steps you carefully climb the stairs to the top of the building. Arriving at the top of the building you find yourself in an office of sorts. There are overturned desks, sparking holo-screens and shattered glass everywhere. The main source of light in the building comes from the newly created skylight where a chunk of the ceiling has been ripped out, exposing the building's pipes and wiring. You tread carefully through the debris and rubble, picking through desk drawers as you investigate the area. Further into the room you come across a semi-intact desk, the only real damage being a few cracks and a single broken leg. Sifting through the drawers you manage to find old satellite phones, the screens are cracked and a few wires are exposed but you’re confident that you can repair it. As you are examining the phones you hear the sound of wood creaking behind you. With your heart in your throat you whip around but instead of an exillium, you are greeted by a blue avatar. The blue avatar is first to fully recover from the scare, “What are you focusing on? I’m trying to find a safe place to monitor my cameras. I’ll gather the information we need and share it with whoever can communicate it to our teammates.” The text bubble appears above the blue avatar’s head and you quickly type your own response. “I’m trying to establish a line of communication. I need to repair these old satellite phones and get them to another teammate so we can connect as many of us together as possible.” You see three dots appear and disappear above their head as they type before they reply. “That’s great, we can work together! We cover both mission objectives.” <fieldset>\ <<if $playerleadership >= 10>>[[• You quickly fall into the leadership role, instructing the blue avatar to monitor their cameras and follow your plan]]<<elseif $playerleadership <= 10>>Choice Unavailable<</if>> [[• You agree and work alongside the blue avatar]] [[• You tell the blue avatar that you have your own plan and you don’t want to work together]] </fieldset>\

“We’ll be able to achieve our goal faster if we work together.” You quickly agree, typing furiously as you lay out your plan to your teammate, “You’ll monitor and gather information on the enemies movements and their patterns while also keeping an eye out for any other player avatar. I’ll focus on my repairs and once my repairs are done, you’ll be able to tell me the best path to take to transport the phone to the nearest avatar.” The blue avatar nods and you continue, “When the communication line is established, I’ll need to rush back and take control of the other repaired satellite phone. You’ll report your findings from your cameras to me and I’ll ensure the information is communicated to our other teammate.” They flash a thumbs up and you both quickly get to work. Digging through the broken desks you carefully find components that could be used in your repairs. Once satisfied with your collection, you get to quickly solder and rewire the old satellite phones until the cracked screens blink back to life, the signal faint as only two bars appear but it is enough to complete your objective. You inform your teammate that the repairs have been completed and they transfer the data they have collected during the time to your holopad. Old satellite phones in hand you rush out the building, stealthing through the desolate settlement, your steps careful and your eyes constantly flickering from the route on your holopad to your surroundings to ensure you avoid any exilliums. It is not long before you find yourself next to the tree you were told to seek out. You call out to the teammate that was meant to be hiding in the tree. Leaves rustle and then you see a yellow avatar appear on one of the tree branches, having swung down from the higher branches. You inform them of your plan, handing over one of the satellite phones, and they immediately agree to finding the next teammate. The team works like a well-oiled machine under your command. You race back and with the help of the blue avatar you are able to track the movements of the exilliums through their cameras and report the coordinates to the yellow avatar with the repaired satellite phones so they are able to safely traverse through the settlement and find the last of your teammates. When the yellow avatar shares your data with a green avatar a large pop up appears on your screen with the words, congratulations, and you are kicked from the simulation. [[“Well done, students. I will admit, you did better than I expected.”]] <<set $zandrleadership to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\

You nod and furiously type out your agreement, “We’ll be able to achieve our goal faster if we work together. How should we approach this?” The two of you brainstorm a plan of action and after a bit of back and forth you finalise your plan. The two of you decided to utilise the blue avatar’s cameras to monitor and gather information on the enemies movements and their patterns while also keeping an eye out for any other player avatar. In the meantime, you will focus on repairing the old satellite phones. Once the repairs are done you will make your way through the settlement using the information gathered to find the nearest avatar and transfer the repaired satellite phone over. With that, a communication line will be established and you would report the findings from blue avatar’s cameras to the other avatar once they have returned. Satisfied you both get to work. Digging through the broken desks you carefully find components that could be used in your repairs. Once satisfied with your collection, you get to quickly solder and rewire the old satellite phones until the cracked screens blink back to life, the signal faint as only two bars appear but it is enough to complete your objective. You inform your teammate that the repairs have been completed and they transfer the data they have collected during the time to your holopad. Old satellite phones in hand you rush out the building, stealthing through the desolate settlement, your steps careful and your eyes constantly flickering from the route on your holopad to your surroundings to ensure you avoid any exilliums. You call out to the teammate that was meant to be hiding in the tree. Leaves rustle and then you see a yellow avatar appear on one of the tree branches, having swung down from the higher branches. You inform them of your plan, handing over one of the satellite phones, and they immediately agree to find the next teammate. A lot of your allocated time is then used up by the constant discussions for what the next move should be, no one taking direct command and everything being left to a group decision. Eventually, you make your way back to the office building and begin to monitor and maintain the communication line. You are able to guide the yellow avatar and track the movements of the exilliums through the feeding of information from the blue avatar’s cameras, allowing for a safe traversal through the settlement. The yellow avatar is able to find the last of your teammates. When the yellow avatar shares your data with a green avatar a large pop up appears on your screen with the words, congratulations, and you are kicked from the simulation. [[“Your time was running low but you pulled through in the end.”]] <<set $zandrteamplayer to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\

You shake your avatar’s head and type a reply, “I have my own plan and I would rather execute it alone.” You watch the blue avatar start typing, stop and start again multiple times before settling on a final, “Okay.” The response is followed by an awkward silence in the room as you both focus on your own tasks, no further communication occurring. With no distractions you focus all your attention onto your repairs, Digging through the broken desks you carefully find components that could be used in your repairs. Once satisfied with your collection, you get to quickly solder and rewire the old satellite phones until the cracked screens blink back to life, the signal faint as only two bars appear but it is enough to complete your objective. Old satellite phones in hand you rush out the building, stealthing through the desolate settlement, your steps careful as you look around every corner and avoid the roaming exilliums. Your journey through the settlement is slow because of your constant checking and keeping an eye out for another avatar. Eventually you catch a glimpse of a green avatar picking through the debris and rubble of a small store. It takes far longer than you anticipated to approach them, taking a longer path to avoid the exillium that had appeared in the middle of the street, and establish a line of communication. You feel your body tense as you watch your time tick down. In the middle of transferring your data with the green avatar a large pop up appears on your screen with the words, you have failed, and you are kicked from the simulation. [[“A disappointing performance, some more than others”]] <<set $zandrlonewolf to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\

Grabbing the rubber knives you test the weight and take a few practice swings and thrusts. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is a sword and shield wielder, two spear wielders and one other dagger user. A plan slowly forms in your head as the four students move to stand in front of you, instinctively looking to you for leadership. You expected it, with your scores in both practical and theory being the highest in your year, you are often turned to for guidance. You can feel Frederich’s burning stare as you discuss your plan with the others, his arms crossed and nose raised in the air as a scowl darkens his face, his eyes narrowed as he watches your every move intently. He has always hated the fact that you ‘stole’ the top spot from him and he uses every opportunity to spot a chink in your armour. Maria stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, hands at her sides and no weapon in sight. Your team slowly encircles her and the spear wielder strikes first, trying to push her towards you and your other dagger wielding teammate, the spear thrust goes high while your other teammate moves for a low sweeping blow with their sword. Maria nimbly dodges back, hopping over the sweep and sidestepping the thrust, her body already in position to knock your dagger strike aside with an open palm. You shout out to press your attack, the sword and shield wielder does their best to cover the dagger wielders while your spear teammates try to maneuver her into range, and you try your best to land a blow against Maria. You duck down, allowing the spear to slash in a wide arc above you, and you roll and lunge with your daggers out while Maria is distracted by the attack. You slash at her leg but your dagger cuts bites into nothing, her leg pulled back and you find the air knocked out of your lungs as her foot catches your solar plexus. You roll across the mat under the force of her kick. Instinctively you drive your daggers into the training mats to stop yourself from rolling out of the arena. Black dots appear at the edge of your vision and you blink furiously to drive them away, gulping down air as you shakily lift yourself to your feet, your eyes tracking the furious exchange of blows as one of your teammates works to keep Maria away as the other two protect you and allow you time to recover. [[A loud buzz sounds as you watch one of your spear wielders fly through the blue beams]] <<set $daggerleadership to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\

Grabbing the rubber knives you test the weight and take a few practice swings and thrusts. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is a sword and shield wielder, two spear wielders and one other dagger user. You quickly gather around with your teammates and brainstorm on the best strategy to use against Maria, working together to form a plan. You can feel Frederich’s gloating stare as you discuss your plan with the others, his arms crossed and an all too smug smile on his face as he watches your every move. He has always prided himself on the fact that he was the top student in the program and used every opportunity to point it out; students flocked to follow him and he took no small pleasure in mocking you for falling behind. Maria stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, hands at her sides and no weapon in sight. Your team slowly encircles her and the spear wielder strikes first, trying to push her towards you and your other dagger wielding teammate, the spear thrust goes high while your other teammate moves for a low sweeping blow with their sword. Maria nimbly dodges back, hopping over the sweep and sidestepping the thrust, her body already in position to knock your dagger strike aside with an open palm. When your initial attack fails your group scrambles to adjust, with no clear leader you all shout out rallying cries and your shouts create a disjointed command, your formation faltering as you struggle to focus on a single plan of attack. The sword and shield wielder tries their best to cover the dagger wielders while your spear teammates try to maneuver her into range, and you try your best to land a blow against Maria. However, a hiccup in communication leads to Maria sweeping the spear wielder off their feet and tossing them out of the arena boundary, a loud buzz going off, before targeting the dual dagger user. You watch as their eyes widen as they find their daggers taken in a quick disarm, Maria using the stolen daggers to slash the student across the chest and eliminate them. With only three of you left, you and the spear wielder back away, ducking behind the sword and shield wielder to form a new plan. [[With a new plan you all press in]] <<set $daggerteamplayer to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

Grabbing the rubber knives you test the weight and take a few practice swings and thrusts. Satisfied with the feeling you turn to examine the people you were expected to team up with. There is a sword and shield wielder, two spear wielders and one other dagger user. The group hesitantly move towards you but when you send them a warning look they quickly retreat, gathering in a small huddle a few feet away and begin mumbling amongst themselves. You can feel Frederich’s disgusted stare as you wait for the start of the fight, his arms crossed and a sneer tugging at his lips, his glare fierce. The fact that you refuse to take on a leadership position or work within the system has always frustrated him. He has always prided himself on the fact that he was the top student in the program and used every opportunity to point it out. Students flocked to follow him and he took no small pleasure in mocking you for falling behind and when you failed to react to his taunts it always left him red in the face and snarling. Your actions were a constant source of confusion for him. He couldn’t fathom someone from a high ranking military family refusing to fall into line. His eyes weren’t the only ones focused on you, Maria’s has also fallen on you. Maria, who stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, looks at you with a frown. Even as the other students slowly encircle her, her eyes never leave you. You tense, feeling a shift in the air, and it was only your instincts that saved you from Maria’s punch. A thunderous boom reverberates around the training room, Maria’s fist buried in the mat where you once stood, your heart racing as you stare at her emotionless face. “You either believe you don’t need a team,” she slowly stands and you feel a chill travel down your spine at her empty smile, “or you think you’re good enough to face me alone in combat. Frankly, I don’t know which is more insulting.” The mats groan as Maria explodes forward, you scramble to bring your daggers up into a block as your eyes try desperately to track Maria’s movement, but you are too late. “Eugh-” Your body hits the training mat with a deafening thud and your hands claw at your throat as you try to suck in oxygen, gagging on your own spit, and curling up instinctively. Maria stands above you, watching with a cool expression, before grabbing the back of your collar and tossing you past the boundary line. Black dots dance in front of your eyes as you watch her walk back to your classmates, their faces pale as their eyes dart between you and Maria. [[You are forced to watch Maria quickly and methodically dismantle your would be team]] <<set $traininglonewolf to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

Grabbing a rubber tipped spear you test the weight and take a few practice swings and thrusts. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is a sword and shield wielder, two other spear wielders and one dual dagger user. A plan slowly forms in your head as the four students move to stand in front of you, instinctively looking to you for leadership. You expected it, with your scores in both practical and theory being the highest in your year, you are often turned to for guidance. You can feel Frederich’s burning stare as you discuss your plan with the others, his arms crossed and nose raised in the air as a scowl darkens his face, his eyes narrowed as he watches your every move intently. He has always hated the fact that you ‘stole’ the top spot from him and he uses every opportunity to spot a chink in your armour. Maria stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, hands at her sides and no weapon in sight. Your team slowly encircles her and you move to strike first, trying to push her towards your team, you thrust your spear high and try to distract her while your other teammate moves for a low sweeping blow with their spear. Maria nimbly dodges back, hopping over the sweep and sidestepping the thrust. You shout out to press your attack and for the sword and shield wielder to protect anyone who falls behind. You work alongside your fellow spear teammates to maneuver her into the range of the dual dagger user, using a combination of sweeps and thrusts. When the dual dagger user rushes in, you provide support, flanking Maria with your teammate. You thrust up towards her but your spear finds no purchase, her arm shoots out and locks your spear underneath her armpit. When you tug to try free your weapon she pulls you forward and you aren’t fast enough to adjust your feet and you find yourself falling towards her. Using your sudden shift in gravity she darts forward, grabbing your body, and swings you over her head all in one motion. Instinctively you tuck and roll to break your fall on the training mats, hand slamming down and scrambling to stop yourself from rolling out of the arena. Black dots appear at the edge of your vision and you blink furiously to drive them away, gulping down air as you shakily lift yourself to your feet, your eyes tracking the furious exchange of blows as one of your teammates works to keep Maria away as the other two protect you and allow you time to recover. [[A loud buzz sounds as you watch your dual dagger user fly through the blue beams]] <<set $spearleadership to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\

Grabbing a rubber tipped spear you test the weight and take a few practice swings and thrusts. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is a sword and shield wielder, two other spear wielders and one dual dagger user. You quickly gather around with your teammates and brainstorm on the best strategy to use against Maria, working together to form a plan. You can feel Frederich’s gloating stare as you discuss your plan with the others, his arms crossed and an all too smug smile on his face as he watches your every move. He has always prided himself on the fact that he was the top student in the program and used every opportunity to point it out; students flocked to follow him and he took no small pleasure in mocking you for falling behind. Maria stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, hands at her sides and no weapon in sight. Your team slowly encircles her and you move to strike first, trying to push her towards your team, you thrust your spear high and try to distract her while your other teammate moves for a low sweeping blow with their spear. Maria nimbly dodges back, hopping over the sweep and sidestepping the thrust. When your initial attack fails your group scrambles to adjust, with no clear leader you all shout out rallying cries and your shouts create a disjointed command, your formation faltering as you struggle to focus on a single plan of attack. The sword and shield wielder tries their best to cover the dagger wielders while your spear teammates try to maneuver her into range, and you try your best to land a blow against Maria. However, a hiccup in communication leads to Maria sweeping one of the spear wielders off their feet and tossing them out of the arena boundary, a loud buzz going off, before targeting the dual dagger user. You watch as their eyes widen as they find their daggers taken in a quick disarm, Maria using the stolen daggers to slash the student across the chest and eliminate them. With only three of you left, you and the spear wielder back away, ducking behind the sword and shield wielder to form a new plan. [[With a new plan you all press in|V2 spear]] <<set $spearteamplayer to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

Grabbing a rubber tipped spear you test the weight and take a few practice swings and thrusts. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is a sword and shield wielder, two other spear wielders and one dual dagger user. The group hesitantly move towards you but when you send them a warning look they quickly retreat, gathering in a small huddle a few feet away and begin mumbling amongst themselves. You can feel Frederich’s disgusted stare as you wait for the start of the fight, his arms crossed and a sneer tugging at his lips, his glare fierce. The fact that you refuse to take on a leadership position or work within the system has always frustrated him. He has always prided himself on the fact that he was the top student in the program and used every opportunity to point it out. Students flocked to follow him and he took no small pleasure in mocking you for falling behind and when you failed to react to his taunts it always left him red in the face and snarling. Your actions were a constant source of confusion for him. He couldn’t fathom someone from a high ranking military family refusing to fall into line. His eyes weren’t the only ones focused on you, Maria’s has also fallen on you. Maria, who stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, looks at you with a frown. Even as the other students slowly encircle her, her eyes never leave you. You tense, feeling a shift in the air, and it was only your instincts that saved you from Maria’s punch. A thunderous boom reverberates around the training room, Maria’s fist buried in the mat where you once stood, your heart racing as you stare at her emotionless face. “You either believe you don’t need a team,” she slowly stands and you feel a chill travel down your spine at her empty smile, “or you think you’re good enough to face me alone in combat. Frankly, I don’t know which is more insulting.” The mats groan as Maria explodes forward, in a panic you swing wildly with your spear, hoping to catch her off-guard. “Eugh-” Your body hits the training mat with a deafening thud and your hands claw at your throat as you try to suck in oxygen, gagging on your own spit, and curling up instinctively. Maria stands above you, watching with a cool expression, before grabbing the back of your collar and tossing you past the boundary line. Black dots dance in front of your eyes as you watch her walk back to your classmates, their faces pale as their eyes dart between you and Maria. [[You are forced to watch Maria quickly and methodically dismantle your would be team]] <<set $traininglonewolf to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

Grabbing a rubber sword and wooden shield you test the weight and practice blocking with your shield and swinging with your sword. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is another sword and shield wielder, two spear wielders and one dual dagger user. A plan slowly forms in your head as the four students move to stand in front of you, instinctively looking to you for leadership. You expected it, with your scores in both practical and theory being the highest in your year, you are often turned to for guidance. You can feel Frederich’s burning stare as you discuss your plan with the others, his arms crossed and nose raised in the air as a scowl darkens his face, his eyes narrowed as he watches your every move intently. He has always hated the fact that you ‘stole’ the top spot from him and he uses every opportunity to spot a chink in your armour. Maria stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, hands at her sides and no weapon in sight. Your team slowly encircles her and the spear wielder strikes first, trying to push her towards you and your dual dagger user teammate, the spear thrust goes high while your other teammate moves for a stab with their dagger. Maria nimbly dodges back, hopping over the sweep and sidestepping the stab, her body already in position to knock your sword strike aside with an open palm. You shout out to press your attack and for the other sword and shield wielder to protect the dual dagger user while you protect the spear wielders. You work alongside your teammates to maneuver her into the range of the dual dagger user, providing support to the spear wielders. When the dual dagger user rushes in, their patience slipping, you follow to provide support. They slash and stab at Maria but she easily avoids the telegraphed attacks and when you see her winding up a kick, you jump in front of the dual dagger user, taking the brunt of the kick. You feel yourself slide back under the force of the kick, stumbling as your arm cries out in pain. You suck in air as your ears ring, clutching your throbbing arm as you try to shake the numbness away, your shield arm deadweight as you massage it desperately. Your eyes track the furious exchange of blows as one of your teammates works to keep Maria away as the other two protect you and allow you time to recover. [[A loud buzz sounds as you watch one of your spear wielders fly through the blue beams|V2]] <<set $swordshieldleadership to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\

Grabbing a rubber sword and wooden shield you test the weight and practice blocking with your shield and swinging with your sword. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is another sword and shield wielder, two spear wielders and one dual dagger user. You quickly gather around with your teammates and brainstorm on the best strategy to use against Maria, working together to form a plan. You can feel Frederich’s gloating stare as you discuss your plan with the others, his arms crossed and an all too smug smile on his face as he watches your every move. He has always prided himself on the fact that he was the top student in the program and used every opportunity to point it out; students flocked to follow him and he took no small pleasure in mocking you for falling behind. Maria stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, hands at her sides and no weapon in sight. Your team slowly encircles her and the spear wielder strikes first, trying to push her towards you and your dual dagger user teammate, the spear thrust goes high while your other teammate moves for a stab with their dagger. Maria nimbly dodges back, hopping over the sweep and sidestepping the stab, her body already in position to knock your sword strike aside with an open palm. When your initial attack fails your group scrambles to adjust, with no clear leader you all shout out rallying cries and your shouts create a disjointed command, your formation faltering as you struggle to focus on a single plan of attack. The sword and shield wielder tries their best to cover the dual dagger wielder while your spear teammates try to maneuver her into range, and you try your best to land a blow against Maria. However, a hiccup in communication leads to Maria sweeping one of the spear wielders off their feet and tossing them out of the arena boundary, a loud buzz going off, before targeting the dual dagger user. You watch as their eyes widen as they find their daggers taken in a quick disarm, Maria using the stolen daggers to slash the student across the chest and eliminate them. With only three of you left, you and the other sword and shield wielder back away, protecting the sole spear wielder left and try to form a new plan. [[With a new plan you all press in|V3]] <<set $swordandshieldteamplayer to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

Grabbing a rubber sword and wooden shield you test the weight and practice blocking with your shield and swinging with your sword. Satisfied with the feel you turn to examine your team members; there is another sword and shield wielder, two spear wielders and one dual dagger user. The group hesitantly move towards you but when you send them a warning look they quickly retreat, gathering in a small huddle a few feet away and begin mumbling amongst themselves. You can feel Frederich’s disgusted stare as you wait for the start of the fight, his arms crossed and a sneer tugging at his lips, his glare fierce. The fact that you refuse to take on a leadership position or work within the system has always frustrated him. He has always prided himself on the fact that he was the top student in the program and used every opportunity to point it out. Students flocked to follow him and he took no small pleasure in mocking you for falling behind and when you failed to react to his taunts it always left him red in the face and snarling. Your actions were a constant source of confusion for him. He couldn’t fathom someone from a high ranking military family refusing to fall into line. His eyes weren’t the only ones focused on you, Maria’s has also fallen on you. Maria, who stands perfectly still in the middle of the makeshift arena, looks at you with a frown. Even as the other students slowly encircle her, her eyes never leave you. You tense, feeling a shift in the air, and it was only your instincts that saved you from Maria’s punch. A thunderous boom reverberates around the training room, Maria’s fist buried in the mat where you once stood, your heart racing as you stare at her emotionless face. “You either believe you don’t need a team,” she slowly stands and you feel a chill travel down your spine at her empty smile, “or you think you’re good enough to face me alone in combat. Frankly, I don’t know which is more insulting.” The mats groan as Maria explodes forward, you scramble to bring your shield up, bracing yourself for impact. “Eugh-” Your body bounces across the training mat, your body like a skipping stone, as you roll rapidly out the arena. The world blurs and you wheeze as you lay on your back, black dots crowding your vision as you stare up at the ceiling. Your muscles scream as you unsteadily roll onto your side, watching Maria walk back to your classmates, their faces pale as their eyes dart between you and Maria. [[You are forced to watch Maria quickly and methodically dismantle your would be team]] <<set $traininglonewolf to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

/* render nico leadership bar */ <<showmeter '$nicoleadershipBar' `$nicoleadership / $maxnicoleadership`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* render theo romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$theoromanceflagBar' `$theoromanceflag / $maxtheoromanceflag`>> /* render astrid romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$astridromanceflagBar' `$astridromanceflag / $maxastridromanceflag`>> /* render nico romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$nicoromanceflagBar' `$nicoromanceflag / $maxnicoromanceflag`>> /* render ara romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$araromanceflagBar' `$araromanceflag / $maxararomanceflag`>> /* render will romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$willromanceflagBar' `$willromanceflag / $maxwillromanceflag`>> /* render mina romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$minaromanceflagBar' `$minaromanceflag / $maxminaromanceflag`>> /* render spencer romance flag bar */ <<showmeter '$spencerromanceflagBar' `$spencerromanceflag / $maxspencerromanceflag`>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /* render the feed anger bar */ <<showmeter '$feedangerBar' `$feedanger / $maxfeedanger`>>

Pained grunts bounce off the walls as you desperately claw at the ground, desperate to crawl away from the beast. Your arms tremble as you try to drag your broken body across the ground while the serpent watches. The voice cackling in your head as it watches you struggle. “Clinging… to life…” The tremors return and the serpent lunges. Fangs coated in black ichor descend upon your body and you can only watch as they bury themselves into your torso. Blinding pain wracks through your body and it convulses as a searing heat travels through your veins, the black ichor injecting itself into your system. Piercing gold eyes are the last thing you see before you pass out; the pain is too much to bear. Your body tucks you away in a memory, a hazy recreation in your mind of a time before the academy. You see: <fieldset>\ [[A large warship floats atop an endless blue ocean and hundreds of soldiers run across the deck. You sit amongst other students on the helicopter, watching the waves crash against the metal of the ship. (Military Background)]] [[A large field filled with farmers and children who call out greetings and sing under the open, blue sky. You walk on the dirt road towards an old busted up truck where others await you. (Wastelander Background)]] [[A desolate city stands before you, once tall and proud skyscrapers lay fallen and broken on the torn up streets. You sit atop a crumbling building, taking in the ruins that were once your home. (Orphan Background)]] </fieldset>\

You scream for help, your throat hoarse and voice breaking as you desperately plead for someone to find and save you. Your voice bounces off the walls, your own pleas echoing back as if the universe was mocking you. The serpent watches, the voice cackling in your head, “Your… fear… delicious…” The tremors return and the serpent lunges. Fangs coated in black ichor descend upon your body and you can only watch as they bury themselves into your torso. Blinding pain wracks through your body and it convulses as a searing heat travels through your veins, the black ichor injecting itself into your system. Piercing gold eyes are the last thing you see before you pass out; the pain is too much to bear. Your body tucks you away in a memory, a hazy recreation in your mind of a time before the academy. You see: <fieldset>\ [[A large warship floats atop an endless blue ocean and hundreds of soldiers run across the deck. You sit amongst other students on the helicopter, watching the waves crash against the metal of the ship. (Military Background)]] [[A large field filled with farmers and children who call out greetings and sing under the open, blue sky. You walk on the dirt road towards an old busted up truck where others await you. (Wastelander Background)]] [[A desolate city stands before you, once tall and proud skyscrapers lay fallen and broken on the torn up streets. You sit atop a crumbling building, taking in the ruins that were once your home. (Orphan Background)]] </fieldset>\

You grit your teeth and lift your chin with a defiant glare. You stare straight into the gold-slitted eyes of the serpent, a sneer on your face. Your arms tremble as you fight to push yourself back to a sitting position but you ignore your screaming muscles and turn to face the creature head on. It watches you and you hear the broken rasp say, “Interesting… Fool… ” The tremors return and the serpent lunges. Fangs coated in black ichor descend upon your body and you can only watch as they bury themselves into your torso. Blinding pain wracks through your body and it convulses as a searing heat travels through your veins, the black ichor injecting itself into your system. Piercing gold eyes are the last thing you see before you pass out; the pain is too much to bear. Your body tucks you away in a memory, a hazy recreation in your mind of a time before the academy. You see: <fieldset>\ [[A large warship floats atop an endless blue ocean and hundreds of soldiers run across the deck. You sit amongst other students on the helicopter, watching the waves crash against the metal of the ship. (Military Background)]] [[A large field filled with farmers and children who call out greetings and sing under the open, blue sky. You walk on the dirt road towards an old busted up truck where others await you. (Wastelander Background)]] [[A desolate city stands before you, once tall and proud skyscrapers lay fallen and broken on the torn up streets. You sit atop a crumbling building, taking in the ruins that were once your home. (Orphan Background)]] </fieldset>\

You focus on the words spoken by the creature, blocking out the pain by clinging onto this sudden piece of information. Vessel? What could the beast mean? And more importantly were the monsters always capable of communicating? Your mind races as you think of what this could all mean. The serpent laughs at your curious expression and you hear the broken rasp say, “Curious… Fool… ” The tremors return and the serpent lunges. Fangs coated in black ichor descend upon your body and you can only watch as they bury themselves into your torso. Blinding pain wracks through your body and it convulses as a searing heat travels through your veins, the black ichor injecting itself into your system. Piercing gold eyes are the last thing you see before you pass out; the pain is too much to bear. Your body tucks you away in a memory, a hazy recreation in your mind of a time before the academy. You see: <fieldset>\ [[A large warship floats atop an endless blue ocean and hundreds of soldiers run across the deck. You sit amongst other students on the helicopter, watching the waves crash against the metal of the ship. (Military Background)]] [[A large field filled with farmers and children who call out greetings and sing under the open, blue sky. You walk on the dirt road towards an old busted up truck where others await you. (Wastelander Background)]] [[A desolate city stands before you, once tall and proud skyscrapers lay fallen and broken on the torn up streets. You sit atop a crumbling building, taking in the ruins that were once your home. (Orphan Background)]] </fieldset>\

You follow the clipped footsteps of your father, saluting and greeting the crew members you pass as you shadow your father. The crew members greet you with curious looks, watching you enter the Admiral’s office out of the corner of their eyes. The door closes with a soft click and you stand to attention in front of your father's desk, the man watching you behind the dark mahogany wood. “Cadet $surname reporting,” you say with a grin and puffed out chest, your hand coming up in a crisp salute. Your father’s lips twitch as he fights back his own grin, coughing to regain his composure, “Fall out, Cadet $surname. You have permission to speak casually.” You immediately relax, allowing your arms to fall to your side and your eyes to rest onto your father’s face. “Good to see you, old man. Are those new grey hairs I spot?” He answers with a booming laugh, shaking his head and wagging a finger at you. “Careful, just because I gave you permission it doesn’t mean I won’t toss you over the side of this ship for calling me old.” You chuckle and bring your hands up in surrender; playing along briefly. However, it is not long before you ask the question that has been burning on the tip of your tongue since you spoke to Lieutenant Blake. “A little birdie told me that you organised my class’s surprise with me in mind, would you care to comment on the nature of that rumour, Admiral?” Excitement creeps into your voice and you rock onto the tips of your toes before catching yourself and falling back into your relaxed parade rest. However your eagerness can’t be hidden; your beaming smile is enough to make your father sigh good-naturedly. “I see Lieutenant Blake is still weak to your charms.” His face softens as he smiles, faint crow feet appearing by his eyes. “Yes, I actually called to speak to you about that, among other things.” [[You listen closely]]

You follow the clipped footsteps of your father, saluting and greeting the crew members you pass as you shadow your father. The crew members greet you with curious looks, watching you enter the Admiral’s office out of the corner of their eyes. The door closes with a soft click and you stand to attention in front of your father's desk, the man watching you behind the dark mahogany wood. “Cadet $surname reporting,” you salute and fall into your parade rest with ease, looking just above your father’s head. You allow a faint smile to touch your lips as you hear your father chuckle. “Fall out, Cadet $surname. You have permission to speak casually.” You immediately relax, allowing your arms to fall to your side and your eyes to rest onto your father’s face. You see a warm smile on your father’s face, his once rigid posture now relaxed as he leans back into his seat, looking at you with open affection now. “How have you been? No one giving you any trouble?” You shake your head, sighing good-naturedly at his concerned tone, “Everything is going well, dad. In fact, I even have a tailor-made surprise to look forward to today apparently.” “I see Lieutenant Blake needs to go back to training. Why else would he give up confidential information so easily,” your father remarks drily, eyebrow raised towards you and all you can do is smile bashfully in return. “Lieutenant Blake aside, you're correct, I want to speak to you about that surprise and other matters.” [[You listen closely]]

You follow the clipped footsteps of your father, saluting and greeting the crew members you pass as you shadow your father. The crew members greet you with curious looks, watching you enter the Admiral’s office out of the corner of their eyes. The door closes with a soft click and you stand to attention in front of your father's desk, the man watching you behind the dark mahogany wood. You stiffly move into your parade rest, eyes focused just above your father's head, mechanically saluting him. “Cadet $surname reporting, sir.” You let your arm fall into place behind your back, your hands positioned by the small of your back and fingers splayed out and pointing downwards. Your father watches your movement with pursed lips. “At ease, Cadet $surname.” Your eyes flicker to look at your father's face, seeing his pensive expression, you slowly release the tension in your shoulders. Seeing your shoulders drop slightly your father finally begins to speak, “How have you been, $name?” “I'm okay.” The leather chair your father resides in squeaks softly as he leans forward, his elbows coming to rest on his desk. Dead air fills the space between you as you both stare at one another, unsure what to say. Eventually your father breaks the stalemate with a heavy sigh, “I want to discuss the surprise and other matters with you.” [[You listen closely]]

His body lands with a thud and you hear him groan as he rolls onto his back, the red light briefly illuminating his face before the cooler blue washes over his features. “One down, four to go. Let’s make this a bit more interesting, shall we?” Maria grins and begins her own attack, no longer playing defense. You yell out in return, “Swap to formation B!” You all scramble to move into place, the shield in the front and the rest of you falling back to protect the shield’s sides. There is a grunt of pain as the girl holding the shield tanks Maria’s kick; she sinks down as Maria steps onto the shield and uses it as a launchpad to get to the rest of the team. A spear shoots out to try to hit her while she is mid air but she merely grabs the spear and you watch as they don’t let go of the spear in time and are dragged down as Maria lands, stepping onto the spear to prevent them from regaining the weapon. “Now!” You and the other dagger user both throw one of your daggers at Maria. Maria is forced to dodge, releasing her hold on the spear and you watch as the spear wielder quickly executes a low thrust and is followed by a slash of the sword. In the commotion you move to flank Maria and nod at the girl opposite you. She nods and throws her final dagger, Maria sees the dagger and pulls the spear wielder in and you hear a pained grunt as the dagger hits his back and he is forced to leave the battle. However, you use the interception as your chance and when her back turns you sprint and slide across the mat, aiming for her back leg. Maria tries to avoid your slash but your teammates keep her locked in place, the shield pushing her back into your attack. A whistle sounds as your dagger barely scratches her calf. [[Your excited teammates pull you from the floor and Maria sends you an approving nod]]

“Nice move, $name!” “I can’t believe we actually managed to land a hit!” Arms are thrown around you in excited hugs and you are jostled around as your teammates cheer. Your own ecstatic, adrenaline fueled smile joins the mix as you all leave the arena and allow for Frederich and his team to take your place. Cain replaces Maria and while you can’t hear what Frederich is saying, judging by his stern expression and sharp movements, he is running through his team’s plan one final time before the match begins. Frederich’s commanding voice cuts through the grunts as he carefully moves himself and his teammates around Cain. You are tracking his movements when suddenly a hand lands on your shoulder, startling you. Whipping around you see Maria and she gestures for you and your team to follow her, escorting you to a corner of the room where a whiteboard stands with diagrams messily scrawled all over it. She quickly cleans off the marker and instructs everyone to sit before she begins her lecture. She carefully goes through the match, praising our teamwork and giving advice on where your team could improve. The hour passes in the blink of an eye as your class learns from the best, absorbing their teachings with ravenous hunger. At the end of the session, you and your class are escorted back to the flight deck by the Abyssal Knights where your father is waiting. He stands tall and with his back to your group, his shadow stretches across the deck and disappears over the edge of the ship as the sun sets behind him, half his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun. Once closer you see that he is facing the Voxis Tear, a pulsating and rippling mass that distorts the very air around it, his eyes focused on the whirlpool that lives beneath the tear. [[“For many of you, this will be your first glimpse of the Voxis Tear”]]

Her body lands with a thud and you hear her groan as she rolls onto her back, the red light briefly illuminating her face before the cooler blue washes over her features. “One down, four to go. Let’s make this a bit more interesting, shall we?” Maria grins and begins her own attack, no longer playing defense. You yell out in return, “Swap to formation B!” You all scramble to move into place, the shield in the front and the rest of you falling back to protect the shield’s sides. There is a grunt of pain as the girl holding the shield tanks Maria’s kick; she sinks down as Maria steps onto the shield and uses it as a launchpad to get to the rest of the team. A spear shoots out to try to hit her while she is mid air but she merely grabs the spear and you watch as they don’t let go of the spear in time and are dragged down as Maria lands, stepping onto the spear to prevent them from regaining the weapon. “Now!” A spear flies through the air towards Maria. Maria is forced to dodge, releasing her hold on the spear and you watch as the spear wielder quickly executes a low thrust and is followed by a slash of the sword. In the commotion you move to flank Maria and nod at the girl opposite you. She nods and presses the attack with her sword and shield, Maria sees the sword and pulls the spear wielder in and you hear a pained grunt as the sword slashes across his back and he is forced to leave the battle. However, you use the moment to pick up your forgotten spear and when her back turns you take careful aim and let your spear loose, aiming for her back. Maria tries to avoid your attack but your teammates keep her locked in place, the shield restricting her movement, and she can barely twist her spine to try to avoid attack. A whistle sounds as your spear barely grazes her rib. [[Your excited teammates pull you from the floor and Maria sends you an approving nod]]

His body lands with a thud and you hear him groan as he rolls onto his back, the red light briefly illuminating his face before the cooler blue washes over his features. “One down, four to go. Let’s make this a bit more interesting, shall we?” Maria grins and begins her own attack, no longer playing defense. You yell out in return, “Swap to formation B!” You all scramble to move into place, you and the other sword and shield wielder moving to hold back Maria. There is a grunt of pain as the girl holding the shield tanks Maria’s kick; she sinks down as Maria steps onto the shield and uses it as a launchpad to get to the rest of the team. A spear shoots out to try to hit her while she is mid air but she merely grabs the spear and you watch as they don’t let go of the spear in time and are dragged down as Maria lands, stepping onto the spear to prevent them from regaining the weapon. “Now!” You deflect Maria’s finishing blow on the spear wielder, falling to one knee as you force your shield between her hand and their chest. A brief glimpse of surprise passes her face before she is forced to dodge, a dagger flying past her face as she reacts to the throw. However, in order to dodge she releases her hold on the spear and you watch as the spear wielder quickly executes a low thrust, followed closely by your own sword slash. In the commotion you track your spear and dagger users out of the corner of your eye as you try to keep Maria distracted. At your silent command they attack, the dagger user’s last dagger flying towards Maria while the spear user dashes in. Maria sees the dagger and pulls the spear wielder in and you hear a pained grunt as the dagger hits his back and he is forced to leave the battle. However, you use the interception as your chance and when her back turns you shoulder barge into Maria, hiding your sword behind your shield until the final second where you jab at her stomach while she tries to move around your shield. A whistle sounds as your sword barely grazes her rib. [[Your excited teammates pull you from the floor and Maria sends you an approving nod]]

A hushed silence falls over your class as the excitement from training with the Abyssal Knights dies as you all slowly approach the railing of the Dauntless. A soft, static-like whine that thrums in time with the strange black tendrils that thrash out of the Tear replace the previous murmurs. The Abyssal Knights stand behind your father, their faces solemn as they gaze into the Tear, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you stare alongside them. “Five years ago, thanks to the bravery and strength of those who I work with, the Dauntless survived a S-Class attack. If it was not for the Soulforge who fought the exillium, the flight crew that prepped the evacuation helicopters and the navy soldiers who manned their stations during the crisis, a truly unprecedented tragedy could have occurred.” Your father turns slowly, his broad shoulders eclipsing the setting sun and Tear, his eyes moving over each student and only pausing briefly when they reach yours. “Every day, my crew and I stand between the exillium that pour out of the Tear and Voxis city, and we are only able to do that because of the training we received from the academy. Next year, you will begin that same training and I hope you remember this day as a reminder of what you are fighting for.” He lets his words hang in the air, “Never lose sight of what you are protecting.” “We won’t forget your wise words, Admiral.” Instructor Mbatha replies and at his silent prompting the class quickly echo his words. Your father nods and shakes Instructor Mbatha’s hand, the two moving to the side to have a hushed conversation, and soon you and your class are being escorted back to the helicopter, ready to take you back to the city. <<if $daggerleadership is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and mimics the slicing motion of a dagger and then points to her calf. A large and proud smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression.<<elseif $spearleadership is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and mimics the throwing of a spear and then pats her rib. A large and proud smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression.<<elseif $swordshieldleadership is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and mimics a shoulder barge and sword thrust before patting her rib. A large and proud smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression.<<elseif $daggerteamplayer is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and mimics the slicing motion of a dagger and then pats her rib. A faint smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression.<<elseif $spearteamplayer is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and mimics the thrusting of a spear and then pats her rib. A faint smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression.<<elseif $swordandshieldteamplayer is true>>Maria sends you a lazy wave goodbye and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and mimics the slashing of a sword and then points to her arm. A faint smile replaces your father’s usual stern expression.<<elseif $traininglonewolf is true>>Maria watches your class intently, lips pursed and arms crossed over her chest, and as you climb into the helicopter you catch a glimpse of your father. He has moved to talk to Maria and you see her gesture to the helicopter and speaks to him with a dark scowl, shaking her head. His body tenses and when he turns to look at you, you see that his nostrils are flaring and his jaw is clenched, his eyes thunderous.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and you watch as the Tear suddenly pulsates and hundreds of black tendrils rip out from its maw, rapidly descending onto the Dauntless and towards you and the helicopter. You try to fight against the black tendrils but they latch onto your body, surging across your body and engulfing you. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the tendrils burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The ichor of the tendrils makes you anew, staining everything within you with its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]]

Your sword and shield wielder rushes in with a shoulder barge while you throw one of your daggers at Maria, hoping to distract Maria from the last spear wielder who moves to flank her. Maria ducks to avoid the dagger and lunges at the sword and shield wielder, sliding across the mat into a low sweeping kick to knock the sword and shield user off balance. There is a grunt of pain as the girl is knocked down, her sword falling out of her grasp. However, before Maria can capitalise on the vulnerable position a spear shoots out to try to hit her while she is moving to punch down. She is forced to dodge the spear, rolling away from your sword and shield user. This was your chance. You sprint towards Maria, the spear wielder running alongside you, and they jump forward and try to tackle Maria. Seeing the attack coming, she uses the momentum of the student and redirects their tackle, tossing them out of bounds. However, while spinning around the sword and shield wielder had recovered and made to grab her leg. In the commotion you were able to sneak behind Maria and slash at her torso and a whistle sounds as your dagger barely grazes her rib. [[Your teammates laugh in disbelief from the floor as Maria smiles faintly]]

“A scrappy victory, but a victory nonetheless. You can all be proud.” There are loud whoops as your teammates rush to swarm you, babbling and laughing as they jostle you around, still unable to believe that you all managed to secure the hit in the end. Your own disbelieving, adrenaline fueled babble joining the mix as you all leave the arena and allow for Frederich and his team to take your place. Cain replaces Maria and while you can’t hear what Frederich is saying, judging by his stern expression and sharp movements, he is running through his team’s plan one final time before the match begins. In a strong contrast to your own match, you watch as Frederich commands his team and carefully moves himself and his teammates around Cain. You are tracking his movements, and begrudgingly admiring his leadership, when suddenly a hand lands on your shoulder, startling you. Whipping around you see Maria and she gestures for you and your team to follow her, escorting you to a corner of the room where a whiteboard stands with diagrams messily scrawled all over it. She quickly cleans off the marker and instructs everyone to sit before she begins her lecture. She carefully goes through the match, praising your team’s ability to adapt on the fly and reminding you all that having a clear leader to command people and strategise is how hiccups are avoided. The hour passes in the blink of an eye as your class learns from the best, absorbing their teachings with ravenous hunger. At the end of the session, you and your class are escorted back to the flight deck by the Abyssal Knights where your father is waiting. He stands tall and with his back to your group, his shadow stretches across the deck and disappears over the edge of the ship as the sun sets behind him, half his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun. Once closer you see that he is facing the Voxis Tear, a pulsating and rippling mass that distorts the very air around it, his eyes focused on the whirlpool that lives beneath the tear. [[“For many of you, this will be your first glimpse of the Voxis Tear”]]

Your sword and shield wielder rushes in with a shoulder barge while the spear wielder throws their spear at Maria and you use it as an opportunity to flank her. Maria ducks to avoid the spear and lunges at the sword and shield wielder, sliding across the mat into a low sweeping kick to knock the sword and shield user off balance. There is a grunt of pain as the girl is knocked down, her sword falling out of her grasp. However, before Maria can capitalise on the vulnerable position the empty-handed spear wielder engages her, throwing desperate jabs to give the sword and shield wielder time to recover. Maria blocks the first jab and answers with her own quick combo, you hear the air leave your teammate’s lungs as they fail to block her jabs. You couldn’t waste this opportunity. You sprint towards Maria and the spear wielder lunges for a last ditch grapple. Seeing the attack coming, she breaks the grapple and tosses them out of bounds with a hip throw. However, during the hip throw the sword and shield wielder had recovered and made to grab her leg. With her leg held, Maria’s focus shifts to break the hold and is distracted when you lunge at her with your spear. She tries to avoid the hit but the Sword and Shield wielder holds firm and she is only able to twist slightly, causing your spear to lightly graze her rib. A whistle sounds, signaling your victory. [[Your teammates laugh in disbelief from the floor as Maria smiles faintly]]

Your fellow sword and shield wielder rushes in with a shoulder barge while the spear wielder throws their spear at Maria and you use it as an opportunity to flank her. Maria ducks to avoid the spear and lunges at the sword and shield wielder, sliding across the mat into a low sweeping kick to knock the sword and shield user off balance. There is a grunt of pain as the girl is knocked down, her sword falling out of her grasp. However, before Maria can capitalise on the vulnerable position the empty-handed spear wielder engages her, throwing desperate jabs to give the sword and shield wielder time to recover. Maria blocks the first jab and answers with her own quick combo, you hear the air leave your teammate’s lungs as they fail to block her jabs. Before your teammate could be eliminated you swoop in, blocking Maria’s finishing blow on the spear wielder, falling to one knee as you force your shield between her hand and their chest. A brief glimpse of surprise passes her face before she is forced to dodge, a sword blurring above the space where Maria once was. Your shield arm aches but you push through the pain. Your team rushes as one, trapping her between you all, shields pressing against her sides as she tries to duck around. She tries to avoid the swords slashing towards her but she is only able to deflect one; your own sword is able to sneak through her defense and barely graze her arm. A whistle sounds, signaling your victory. [[Your teammates laugh in disbelief from the floor as Maria smiles faintly]]

The sword and shield wielder rushes in with a shoulder barge while the spear wielder throws their spear at Maria and the dual dagger user takes the flank, trying to slash at Maria’s legs. Maria ducks to avoid the spear and lunges at the sword and shield wielder, sliding across the mat into a low sweeping kick to knock the sword and shield user off balance. There is a grunt of pain as the girl is knocked down, her sword falling out of her grasp. However, before Maria can capitalise on the vulnerable position the dual dagger slashes at her legs and she is forced to hop over the blades and springboard hop over the dual dagger user and push them into the recovering sword and shield wielder. There is a loud groan as the two collide and Maria reappears to eliminate them. The fight is scrappy, they try to adapt and play to their strengths, but with no clear leader and their nerves getting the best of them it is just a matter of stalling out their defeat. Maria pats each of them on their shoulders and praises them for the attempt and then points to a corner of the room where a whiteboard stands, telling them to wait there for the rest of the lesson. You slowly rise to your feet, ready to follow, but a solemn faced Maria pulls you aside. She walks you past the arena where Cain and his group are moving into, you can’t hear what Frederich is saying, but judging by his stern expression and sharp movements, he is running through his team’s plan one final time before the match begins. She finally stops in an isolated corner, away from the prying eyes and ears of others, turning to face you with crossed arms. “I don’t know what your problem is but you better fix it before you start your service.” “I-” Your words don’t even get to form, Maria waves her hand in a dismissive gesture forcing you to an abrupt stop, “I don’t want to hear it. You are placed in squadrons for a reason. The exilliums don’t care about your morals, ideals or attitude. They just seek to destroy. Either work alongside your teammates or get yourself and others killed.” Her upper lip is pulled up and her eyes narrow as she closes the conversation, “The service is mandatory. There is no getting out of it, so make the best of it or warn the people stuck with you that they won’t be able to rely on you.” She leaves, not waiting for a reply. You watch her move back to your classmates and the whiteboard where diagrams are messily scrawled all over it. She quickly cleans off the marker and instructs everyone to sit before she begins her lecture. She carefully goes through the match, praising your classmates’ ability to adapt on the fly and gently reminding them that having a clear leader to command people and strategise is how to avoid panic and nerves. There is also a pointed statement about teamwork and relying on one another in combat. The hour passes in the blink of an eye as your class learns from the best, absorbing their teachings with ravenous hunger. At the end of the session, you and your class are escorted back to the flight deck by the Abyssal Knights where your father is waiting. He stands tall and with his back to your group, his shadow stretches across the deck and disappears over the edge of the ship as the sun sets behind him, half his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun. Once closer you see that he is facing the Voxis Tear, a pulsating and rippling mass that distorts the very air around it, his eyes focused on the whirlpool that lives beneath the tear. [[“For many of you, this will be your first glimpse of the Voxis Tear”]]

<h1>Chapter Two</h1> The stark white and starch-heavy sheets rustle and scratch at your skin as you slowly awaken. Your face twists in discontent as your eyes open, and you find yourself staring into a bright light. Rolling onto your side, you try again, tentatively opening your eyes until you can see the white hospital room you reside in. The room has no windows and there are two guards posted by the room’s door, the sole entry and exit point, opposite your bed. They are dressed in full tactical gear, and you see their bodies tense as they lift their pulse rifles as you shift. Watching you cautiously as you slowly prop yourself up, your light blue hospital gown shifting as you shuffle up your bed, the needle in your arm pinching. As your hand moves to adjust the needle, there is a soft hiss as the door behind the guards slides open and two people enter the room. You recognise Commander Strang but fail to identify the woman next to him. She is much shorter than Commander Strang, 5’2” to his 6’2” frame, and with a soft and friendly face. Her skin is a warm tawny colour and her eyes are a stunning hazel that are half hidden behind the round frames of her glasses and loose strands of hair. Her light brown copper, curly hair is barely able to be pulled back into a neat ponytail. Stray curls escape to frame her heart-shaped face, and she has a small beauty mark just below her left eye. You note that, like Commander Strang, she wears the uniform of a soulforge warrior, the red and black nano-armour like a second skin over her toned form. However, unlike Commander Strang, her anima weapon cannot be seen. His anima weapon lays dormant on his hips, the sluggish movement of blood within almost hypnotic. “We’ll take it from here, gentlemen,” Will says warmly, his voice bouncing off the walls of the room. The guards salute crisply, their heels kicking together, before they turn and leave the room. Will leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and an easy smile on his face. The woman approaches you, stopping at the foot of your bed, maintaining a polite distance. [[She begins to speak]]

With the weapons secured you all fall into line, waiting for Jameson to exit the truck and assign your hunting groups. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Junior, his pale skin now a glowing pink as if sunburnt, rushing to hide behind the older teenagers. He narrowly avoids Jameson as the man steps out of his truck, his gait unsteady as he tightens the strap of his prosthetic mid-stride. Once happy with the tightened strap he comes to a stop in front of your group, hand darting to his vest where he pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Only six of you today, everyone else is rushing around getting ready for the ceremony so you lot will have to just work in groups of three and see what you can bring back. Warthog, impala, vulture, whatever you can get!” Jameson says around the cigarette in his mouth, struggling to light it as the old lighter sputters and sparks. “I’ll contact you on your radios every hour so keep the line clear.” Wisps of smoke snake around his head once the cigarette is finally lit. “Landon, grab Isaac and Tanya. Show them the ropes. Same for you $name, you’ll have Junior and Tenley. With the two of you leaving soon we gotta train the youngsters up.” His cigarette dangles precariously from his mouth as he assigns the groups, his eyes watching closely as everyone moves to stand with their hunting party. The younger teens shuffling awkwardly into place, hands fidgeting with their often too big hand-me-down leathers, the sound of their boots dragging across the dirt road loud. “Grab your weapons and use your radios if you need anything. I’ll be here keeping watch.” At his command everyone acts, you watch as rifles and spears are snatched up one after the other until only two weapons are left on the rack. A rifle and spear; wearing scuff marks and faint scratches but ultimately in good condition thanks to the careful maintenance of Jameson over the years. You can feel the eyes of Tenley and Junior watching you, Junior with a spear held tightly between two hands and Tenley carefully holding a rifle, as you choose your weapon. <fieldset>\ [[• You choose the spear, preferring a more physical approach when hunting]] [[• You choose the rifle, preferring a more careful and ranged approach when hunting]] </fieldset>\

You grab the rifle; checking the chamber and the safety. Once satisfied you sling the rifle over your shoulder and keep the barrel pointed to the floor. You glance at Tenley, giving a satisfied nod to the young girl when you note she has followed the same procedure with her rifle. She beams at the sign of your acknowledgment. With everyone’s weapons checked and secured you start the slow trek west, followed closely by Tenley and Junior, their inexperienced feet heavy and clumsy as soft crackles and snaps can be heard as you pick your way through the grasslands. Your eyes scan the swaying grass for odd movements, trying to pick out any disturbance or ripple in the tall grass. It is not long before your hand shoots out, bringing Tenley and Junior to an abrupt halt, soft grunts heard behind as they collide in an effort to not run into your stilled form. You hear the grass twist and contort as the two shuffle to squat next to you, their eyes straining to pick up on what brought you to a standstill. Your finger comes to your lips, gesturing to keep silent, before moving slowly out to point to the collapsing grass in the distance. Tenley and Junior’s eyebrows furrow as they follow the direction of your finger before shooting up when their eyes widen, finally noticing the grass disappearing as something wades through it. They snap their attention back to you, smiles wide and hands wringing around their weapons, awaiting your instructions. <fieldset>\ [[• You take Jameson’s words to heart and use this as an opportunity to teach them. You walk them through the correct steps; using a friendly and jokey tone to make them comfortable]] [[• You take Jameson’s words to heart and use this as an opportunity to teach them. You walk them through the correct steps; using a calm and professional tone to best express your instructions]] [[• You half-heartedly teach them, uninterested but deciding it was best to avoid angering Jameson]] [[• You ignore Jameson’s words and hunt on your own, telling Tenley and Junior to stay back]] </fieldset>\ <<set $huntingrifle to true>> <<set $tactician +=2>>\

You grab the spear; test its weight carefully before spinning it once and then tuck it under your arm. The tip is pointed down and you give a pointed look towards Junior who has his own spear tip pointed up and near his own face. He lets out a small squeak as he quickly moves to adjust his hold on the spear, ignoring Tenley’s amused huff. With everyone’s weapons checked and secured you start the slow trek west, followed closely by Tenley and Junior, their inexperienced feet heavy and clumsy as soft crackles and snaps can be heard as you pick your way through the grasslands. Your eyes scan the swaying grass for odd movements, trying to pick out any disturbance or ripple in the tall grass. It is not long before your hand shoots out, bringing Tenley and Junior to an abrupt halt, soft grunts heard behind as they collide in an effort to not run into your stilled form. You hear the grass twist and contort as the two shuffle to squat next to you, their eyes straining to pick up on what brought you to a standstill. Your finger comes to your lips, gesturing to keep silent, before moving slowly out to point to the collapsing grass in the distance. Tenley and Junior’s eyebrows furrow as they follow the direction of your finger before shooting up when their eyes widen, finally noticing the grass disappearing as something wades through it. They snap their attention back to you, smiles wide and hands wringing around their weapons, awaiting your instructions. <fieldset>\ [[• You take Jameson’s words to heart and use this as an opportunity to teach them. You walk them through the correct steps; using a friendly and jokey tone to make them comfortable]] [[• You take Jameson’s words to heart and use this as an opportunity to teach them. You walk them through the correct steps; using a calm and professional tone to best express your instructions]] [[• You half-heartedly teach them, uninterested but deciding it was best to avoid angering Jameson]] [[• You ignore Jameson’s words and hunt on your own, telling Tenley and Junior to stay back]] </fieldset>\ <<set $huntingspear to true>> <<set $combat +=2>>\

“I’ve spotted movement and based on the lack of squawks or horns I’m guessing it's a warthog rummaging over there.” You whisper to Tenley and Junior with a grin, leaning into their space so your voice doesn’t carry towards the warthog. “Pop quiz! What would be the best way to get this little piggy over our fire?” Junior and Tenley share a nervous glance and sensing the tension you decide to crack a joke to ease it, “Listen, I’m not just prettier than Jameson, I’m also nicer. You don’t have to worry about speaking up, I won’t scold you. You’re here to learn.” Your words seem to lift the tension from their shoulders, smiles coming to their faces as Junior stutters out his words first. “We should probably encircle, right?” When you nod encouragingly he continues, emboldened, “Jameson said the hunting party members with the rifles shoot first and if they didn’t get a clean kill then those with the spears will wait in the wings to finish them off.” His eyes are wide and he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet while squatting, an eager air around him as he awaits to hear whether he was right or not. “Well done, Junior, you got it in one.” You give him a thumbs up and are rewarded with a blinding smile in return. “With a plan formed that means we can move onto the fun part, the execution. Tenley, you will be taking the role of our main rifleman this hunt.” The girl’s eyes widen and her mouth drops, her head already shaking before you finish speaking. <<if $huntingrifle is true>>“Hey, none of that. I’ll be alongside you to talk you through it. If you make a mistake that’s fine, I made plenty during my first hunt too. We’re here to learn so you and Junior can be prepared for the future.” You pat her shoulder and you see her eyes steel with resolve, nodding far too solemnly. With everyone in agreement, you begin the hunt. [[You watch Junior leave to flank while crouched low next to Tenley]]<<elseif $huntingspear is true>>“Trust in the skills you’ve been honing with Jameson. You know what you’re doing and if you make a mistake that’s fine, I made plenty during my first hunt too. Besides, you have Junior and I to fall back on. We’ll handle the rest, you can trust us to finish the job.” You pat her shoulder and see Junior copy your action on her other shoulder, the two sharing a smile. With everyone in agreement, you begin the hunt. [[You carefully flank with Junior]]<</if>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\

“Straight ahead, what do you see?” Your voice is low and measured; a whisper only heard because of how close Tenley and Junior are positioned. The two are practically on top of you. They share a nervous glance and you wait patiently, your face showing a relaxed and open expression. “Um, grass moving?” Junior tests the waters, seeing you nod he continues, emboldened. “It is like, turning inwards. As if something is moving through it or eating the roots.” You give him a small smile and you are rewarded with a beaming smile in return. “A good observation. From that information you can conclude that our target is likely a warthog. If it was an impala we would be able to see it above the grass. If it were a vulture we would hear the flap of its wings.” “What is the best strategy to hunt a warthog?” You look at Tenley. Tenley speaks, hesitantly at first, “The rifleman will shoot first. A kill shot is preferable but if not possible then a wounding shot so the spearmen can bring it down.” You nod encouragingly and you watch as her spine straightens, confidence raising, “the spearmen will have been waiting in the perimeter, ready to encircle so it can’t escape and finish the job.” “A good plan. We will follow it. Tenley, you will be the main rifleman for the hunt.” The girl’s eyes widen and her mouth drops, her head already shaking before you finish speaking. You stare into her eyes and speak with a measured, deliberate cadence, every word carefully chosen. <<if $huntingrifle is true>>“No one is born with a skill, we are taught the skills necessary in life and it is up to us whether we cultivate them.” You gesture to your own rifle slung over your shoulder and continue, “I can speak from my own experiences. The best way to grow is to challenge yourself. I’ll be there to guide you.” You see her eyes steel with resolve before she takes a deep breath and nods. With everyone in agreement, you begin the hunt. [[You watch Junior leave to flank while crouched low next to Tenley]] <<elseif $huntingspear is true>> “No one is born with a skill, we are taught the skills necessary in life and it is up to us whether we cultivate them.” You gesture to your spear and then to Junior’s, “Here you have the chance to grow and challenge yourself with a safety net. We will ensure that no matter the outcome, you will be able to look back at this experience as the first stepping-stone to your growth as a hunter.” You see her eyes steel with resolve before she takes a deep breath and nods. With everyone in agreement, you begin the hunt. [[You carefully flank with Junior]] <</if>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\

“Warthog straight ahead. We’ll encircle it and use our rifleman to funnel it into our spearman, standard hunting procedure. Any questions?” You never turn to face Tenley and Junior, instead keeping your eyes focused on the rippling grass ahead. Your ears pick up on their hesitance, the shuffling of their feet and the sound of hands wiping against their worn hunting leathers. <<if $huntingrifle is true>>“Will you be taking the role as main rifleman, $name?” Tenley asks eventually, her voice tinged with nerves. You consider her words before carefully saying, “I’ll act as a demonstration today.” Hiding your true intentions in your phrasing. She lets out a relieved sigh although you can see out of the corner of your eye the slight slump of disappointment in her shoulders. <<elseif $huntingspear is true>> “Will I have to act alone?” Tenley asks with a panicked inflection, her eyes wide and shoulders climbing as she stares at you. Junior reaches to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying his best to soothe her. “You won’t be alone. Junior and I will be in the wings. Follow Jameson’s teachings and we will handle the rest.” She gives an uneasy nod.<</if>> “No other questions?” You are met with silent head shakes, a measure of anxiety scrawled all over their faces. You sigh seeing this and try to placate them. “The plan is simple and we have room for error. If anyone messes up, I have enough experience to cover it. We won’t walk back empty-handed.” Tenley and Junior nod a bit more resolutely and you think to yourself, Well that's the best I’m going to get. Let’s get this over with. <<if $huntingspear is true>>[[You carefully flank with Junior|Halfhearted Version flank]]<<elseif $huntingrifle is true>>[[You watch Junior leave to flank while crouched low next to Tenley|Halfhearted Version Stay]]<</if>>

“I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t want to play teacher. I just want to finish this hunt as quickly as possible and get back to the commune.” You see Junior and Tenley’s eyebrows draw together and mouths fall slack, you continue through their stunned silence. “So here’s the deal, I’m going to do this hunt solo and you’ll hang back, staying out of my way.” The pair sit with mouths agape, blinking slowly as if unable to process your words. Finally Junior speaks up, voice tentative, “But we need the experience. We have to replace you and the others once you leave.” You sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose. “You’ll have plenty of hunts to find a better teacher and get experience. I don’t want to waste my time before the ceremony chasing animals because I am teaching you how to hunt instead of just securing the meal.” Their mouths take on a stubborn pout and you can already sense the next bout of complaints. You raise your hand up to stop them from voicing those complaints, your voice filled with impatience. “Listen, do you want to learn from me or someone who will actually care and take the proper time to teach you the skills you need?” Your words seem to affect them, the two taking on thoughtful expressions. “I promise you, a bad teacher is much worse than no teacher.” Those final words seem to seal the deal. They nod in agreement and shuffle back, giving you the space you need to hunt in peace. <<if $huntingspear is true>>[[You slowly stalk your prey, ready to hunt]]<<elseif $huntingrifle is true>>[[You carefully maneuver your prey into your sightline, ready to hunt]]<</if>>

Before Junior left you told him to stay downwind from the warthog and keep his steps as light and silent as he could manage. You stressed that he needed to stay out of sight and find the best vantage point while Tenley and you would herd the warthog into an open patch where a clean shot could be fired. He answers your instructions with a confident nod. He moves to leave but stops, turning around to shoot Tenley a thumbs up, his hand shaking slightly but he pretends not to notice the tremble. Tenley responds with her own thumbs up and a mouthed, You got this. He grins and then disappears into the tall grass. You then instruct Tenley to find stones and once you’ve gathered a handful each you begin to execute your plan. Together you carefully toss the stones towards the warthog, never within its vicinity but in its peripheral to get it to adjust its position until you lead it into an open clearing where a baobab tree towers. The warthog snuffles and grunts, dark beady eyes searching its surroundings carefully. The warthog’s tail swishes back and forth like a pendulum as it sniffs the air, tusks gleaming under the sun’s beams. The bristled fur rises briefly before falling as it seems to settle, snout pushing into one of the lone patches of grass in the opening as it goes back to feeding. You nod to Tenley to fall into position and she slowly does, seemingly going through a mental checklist. She rests one knee onto the floor, her other leg propped up and steadying her weight as she brings the rifle up. Her finger stays away from the trigger as she positions the buttstock of the rifle near the centerline of her body and high up on her chest, her elbows down. Her shoulders square with the warthog. You watch her brows draw together and lips purse as she stares down the scope. “Remember, press don’t pull the trigger. You want to apply constant, increasing reward pressure on the trigger until the rifle fires.” Tenley gives a subtle nod, her breathing slowly down as she exerts control over it. Satisfied with her stance you crouch down next to her, peering through the scope of your rifle so you can spot for her. You countdown, focused on the warthog, believing Tenley will follow through. “3” A click is heard as she flips the safety off. “2” Tenley’s finger falls onto the trigger. “1” A sharp cracking sound fills the air. [[And is replaced with a loud squeal]]

Before leaving to flank with Junior you place your hand on Tenley’s shoulder and give her some last second instructions and advice. “You need to gather a handful of stones, no larger than your palm, and carefully toss them towards the warthog. Never within its vicinity but in its peripheral to get it to adjust its position until you can lead it into an open clearing.” She nods, showing that she is listening. “We will scout ahead and find a position near the clearing but downwind so the warthog won’t detect us. We’ll have any possible escape route covered. All you have to do is concentrate on firing off your shot, we will do the rest. Remember, press don’t pull the trigger. You want to apply constant, increasing reward pressure on the trigger until the rifle fires.” “I understand.” “I know.” You give her shoulder one final squeeze before moving towards Junior, patting his back and nodding forward to gesture your intentions. He nods, quickly shooting Tenley a thumbs up before following your careful footsteps. As you journey you tell him that you are trying to stay out of sight and find the best position to support Tenley. He listens with a serious expression, mouthing your words back to himself. It is not long before you see an open clearing where a baobab tree towers. “Aim for the neck, keep a firm grip, never look away until you know it's dead. Recite it back to me” He dutifully repeats the words back and you nod, satisfied. The two of you split off, you on the east flank and him on the west. It is not long before the warthog walks into the clearing. The warthog snuffles and grunts, dark beady eyes searching its surroundings carefully. The warthog’s tail swishes back and forth like a pendulum as it sniffs the air, tusks gleaming under the sun’s beams. The bristled fur rises briefly before falling as it seems to settle, snout pushing into one of the lone patches of grass in the opening as it goes back to feeding. You stay low, crouched close to the ground and eyes focused intently on the warthog, awaiting Tenley’s shot. Readying your body for the inevitable pounce. [[And pounce you did once the warthog cried out]]

You warn Junior to stay downwind from the warthog and keep his steps light and silent. You stressed that he needed to stay out of sight and be ready to land the finishing blow if your shot falls short. He gives a nervous nod, shooting worried glances at Tenley who could only mouth reassurances to him from behind your shoulder. You allow them their moment, going over your training in your mind to ensure Junior won’t need to step in. After a few minutes have passed you realise they were still holding their silent conversation. You pat his back and send him on his way with a placating smile. Left with Tenley, you gave her a small task, wanting to keep her busy. Tenley silently gathered palm-sized stones and passed them to you, watching as you carefully tossed the stones towards the warthog, never within its vicinity but in its peripheral to get it to adjust its position until you led it into an open clearing where a baobab tree towers. The warthog snuffles and grunts, dark beady eyes searching its surroundings carefully. The warthog’s tail swishes back and forth like a pendulum as it sniffs the air, tusks gleaming under the sun’s beams. The bristled fur rises briefly before falling as it seems to settle, snout pushing into one of the lone patches of grass in the opening as it goes back to feeding. You nod to Tenley to fall back and watch as you fall into your stance. You rest one knee onto the floor, your other leg propped up and steadying your weight as you bring the rifle up. Every movement is smooth and practiced as you fall into the familiar position. Your finger stays away from the trigger as you position the buttstock of the rifle near the centerline of your body and high up on your chest, your elbows down. You line up your shoulders square with the warthog. “Watch closely. This is what you will need to do in the future.” Tenley gives a subtle nod, her eyes darting between your stance and her scope, keeping an eye on the warthog. You give no warning before you shoot, the only sign before your shot going off is a soft click as you flip the safety off, and then a sharp cracking sound fills the air. [[The warthog barely has time to cry out before it collapses]]

“I’m going to lead the warthog to an open clearing, I need you to follow at a distance and watch what I’m doing. Once we have arrived at the open clearing you will take over and I’ll flank with Junior to provide support. Got it?” She nervously nods, fidgeting with the sling of her rifle. “Good, just watch and learn.” Junior mouths reassurances to her from behind your shoulder. You allow them their moment, going over your training in your mind to ensure that everything will go according to plan. After a few minutes have passed you realise they were still holding their silent conversation. You pat their backs and usher them to fall back and watch. You quickly gather a handful of stones and begin to execute your plan. You carefully toss the stones towards the warthog, never within its vicinity but in its peripheral to get it to adjust its position until you lead it into an open clearing where a baobab tree towers. The warthog snuffles and grunts, dark beady eyes searching its surroundings carefully. “It's in position. Wait ten minutes for Junior and I to fall into position. Once ten minutes have passed you can fire. Just do what Jameson taught you.” Not waiting for a reply you quickly move to reposition yourself, pushing Junior to do the same, interrupting his goodbye to Tenley. “Aim for the neck, keep a firm grip, never look away until you know it's dead.” These are your last words to Junior before you separate, taking opposite flanks, although you note mentally that if you had it your way, he won’t be using the advice. It is not long before you are positioned. You can easily see the warthog snuffling and grunting as it trots around. The warthog’s tail swishes back and forth like a pendulum as it sniffs the air, tusks gleaming under the sun’s beams. The bristled fur rises briefly before falling as it seems to settle, snout pushing into one of the lone patches of grass in the opening as it goes back to feeding. You stay low, crouched close to the ground and eyes focused intently on the warthog, awaiting Tenley’s shot. Readying your body for the inevitable pounce. [[And pounce you did when the shot is fired]]

You leave Tenley and Junior behind, giving them firm instructions to stay put, and entrust them with the radio. You ask Junior for his spear and reluctantly he parts with his weapon. The last scene you see before departing is Junior kicking the ground with a pout, whispering to Tenley furiously while she sighs and nods along. She takes a seat on the ground and pulls at the grass, dragging fistfuls into the air, the dirt scattering and falling onto her leg. With the pair safely tucked away you can focus on the hunt, readjusting your focus on the warthog. You quickly gather a handful of stones and begin to execute your plan. You carefully toss the stones towards the warthog, never within its vicinity but in its peripheral to get it to adjust its position until you lead it into an open clearing where a baobab tree towers. The warthog snuffles and grunts, dark beady eyes searching its surroundings carefully. The warthog’s tail swishes back and forth like a pendulum as it sniffs the air, tusks gleaming under the sun’s beams. You are careful to stand downwind, crouched low. The bristled fur rises briefly before falling as it seems to settle, snout pushing into one of the lone patches of grass in the opening as it goes back to feeding. You wait for the perfect moment to strike. That moment does not take long to appear. With its focus firmly on its food you bring your arm back, the spear held firmly in your hand as you aim the tip at the warthog. You slow your breathing, and then you take careful, brisk steps, gathering momentum before twisting your body and allowing the force to propel the spear out. The spear flies through the air and with a loud squelching sound, embeds itself into the side of the warthog. The warthog reels onto its hind legs as ear piercing squeals are ripped from its throat, its tusks and hooves shredding and trampling the grass as it takes off. Blood running down its dark, bristled fur and leaving a faint trail in the sand. You watch it bolt towards the tall grass and you sprint after it, Junior’s spear in hand. It takes longer than it normally would with a hunting party but you manage to close the distance, your lungs burning from the chase. You dance around the thrashing warthog, avoiding its tusks and hooves that threaten to gorge you, your own spear also a concern as it whips through the air. You spin Junior’s spear above your head before you thrust it into the neck of the warthog with a grunt, your full weight behind the blow. You hold firm even as the final dying throes of the warthog tries to unbalance you, skilfully avoiding the desperate attempts to maim you. It releases a final thrilling squeal before falling still. After checking it really was dead you begin the process of preparing it for transportation. You work quickly and efficiently, taking the tarp and roll out of your pack then wrapping and securing the warthog. With the warthog secured you drag it back towards Junior and Tenley, the pair jumping up from their seated positions when they see you return. “This you can help me with.” Your voice leaves no room for argument. The two nod, moving to take over. You take Tenley’s rifle and Junior’s spear so their hands were free to carry the warthog back to Jameson. You hear them grunt as they lift the warthog and follow you. [[The trip back filled nothing but awkward silence]]

You leave Tenley and Junior behind, giving them firm instructions to stay put, and entrust them with the radio. The last scene you see before departing is Junior kicking the ground with a pout, whispering to Tenley furiously while she sighs and nods along. She takes a seat on the ground and pulls at the grass, dragging fistfuls into the air, the dirt scattering and falling onto her leg. With the pair safely tucked away you can focus on the hunt, readjusting your focus on the warthog. You quickly gather a handful of stones and begin to execute your plan. You carefully toss the stones towards the warthog, never within its vicinity but in its peripheral to get it to adjust its position until you lead it into an open clearing where a baobab tree towers. The warthog snuffles and grunts, dark beady eyes searching its surroundings carefully. The warthog’s tail swishes back and forth like a pendulum as it sniffs the air, tusks gleaming under the sun’s beams. You are careful to stand downwind, crouched low. The bristled fur rises briefly before falling as it seems to settle, snout pushing into one of the lone patches of grass in the opening as it goes back to feeding. You wait for the perfect moment to strike. That moment does not take long to appear. You rest one knee onto the floor, your other leg propped up and steadying your weight as you bring the rifle up. Every movement is smooth and practiced as you fall into the familiar position. Your finger stays away from the trigger as you position the buttstock of the rifle near the centerline of your body and high up on your chest, your elbows down. You line up your shoulders square with the warthog. You breathe in, flip the safety off, breathe out. Your finger rests on the trigger and your chest stills as you squeeze the trigger. A sharp cracking sound enters the clearing. The warthog reels onto its hind legs, a short lived squeal unleashed before it collapses, your shot ringing true. You slowly rise from your stance and jog towards the fallen warthog. After checking it really was dead you begin the process of preparing it for transportation. You work quickly and efficiently, taking the tarp and roll out of your pack then wrapping and securing the warthog. With the warthog secured you drag it back towards Junior and Tenley, the pair jumping up from their seated positions when they see you return. “This you can help me with.” Your voice leaves no room for argument. The two nod, moving to take over. You take Tenley’s rifle and Junior’s spear so their hands were free to carry the warthog back to Jameson. You hear them grunt as they lift the warthog and follow you. [[The trip back filled nothing but awkward silence]]

The warthog reels onto its hind legs as ear piercing squeals are ripped from its throat, its tusks and hooves shredding and trampling the grass as it takes off. Blood running down its dark, bristled fur and leaving a faint trail in the sand. You watch it bolt towards the tall grass and you wait with bated breath to see if Junior is in position. It is not long before you are able to release a relieved exhale, Junior appearing at the last second to finish off the warthog. His arms tremble as he brings the spear down into the warthog’s neck with a loud shout, forcing all his weight into the blow. The spear embeds itself into the warthog’s neck with a sickening squelch and Junior has to fight the dying throes of the warthog as it tries to lunge and pierce Junior with its tusks. Junior dances away, never releasing his grip on the spear. The warthog gives one final thrash before falling still, the only sound Junior’s heavy breathing. “Did I - Did I do it?” He laughs in disbelief, looking up to Tenley and you as if to confirm what he was seeing. You nod, smiling at the exuberance. “We did it!” “Holy shit I can’t believe-” The two devolve into an excited hug as they dance around the warthog, shouting over each other as they speak in rushed sentences and laughter. You shake your head, a small smile on your lips as you watch their joyful jig. You let them enjoy the moment, leaning down to do the dirty work on your own, not wanting to interrupt. You carefully take the tarp and rope from your pack and begin to roll up and secure the warthog for transport. It is not long before Tenley and Junior stop their celebration and join you. Together, you all make quick work of wrapping the warthog up. You give your rifle to Tenley and Junior also hands over his spear as the two of you carefully carry the warthog back to Jameson. [[The trip back filled with chatter and smiles]]

“Well, looks like a successful hunt based on those smiles and warthog,” Jameson remarks with a booming laugh, watching your group from atop his truck. He has an old camping chair planted in the middle of the truck bed and he sits in it with his anima rifle laid over his lap. The strange weapon pulsates as if in time with his heart; the red glow covering most of the weapon and dims and brightens in intervals. “You should have seen us! It was all whoosh, bang, Weeeeaugh!” Junior’s voice cracks as he tries to imitate the warthog’s final death cry, the shrill sound causing a nearby vulture to take off with a disdainful squawk. Tenley giggles before joining in on the recreation of the hunt, pretending to shoot at Junior, using her finger as a rifle. While the two chase each other you hear your name called by Jameson. The man wears a soft smile, the smile softening the wrinkles on his face and making him appear younger. “You did good, kid. You’ll do just fine in the military.” He gives you a small smirk, “But don’t do too much good over there, we want you to return. Preferably all in one piece.” He taps his own leg, the prosthetic giving off a faint metallic rattle. You open your mouth to reply but find yourself interrupted by Jameson suddenly standing, another genuine smile stretching onto his lips. “Looks like we’re eating well tonight, both groups return victorious.” You turn to see Landon, Isaac and Tanya walk onto the dirt road, a warthog also being carried amongst them. It is not long before Isaac and Tanya are pulled into an excited huddle with Junior and Tenley, the young teens all sharing the details of their adventure. However, their huddle is soon broken by Jameson, ushering everyone back into the truck. You all pile in, careful around the new wrapped additions, and the drive back to the commune is filled with laughter and chatter. One by one you are each dropped off until you find yourself near the west gate of the commune where you jump out, waving goodbye to Jameson as you watch as the truck bounces down the dirt road towards the butcher. [[You begin the trek home]]

The warthog reels onto its hind legs as ear piercing squeals are ripped from its throat, its tusks and hooves shredding and trampling the grass as it takes off. Blood running down its dark, bristled fur and leaving a faint trail in the sand. Your feet thunder across the ground as you leap up, keeping pace with the warthog. Out of the corner of your eye you see Junior doing the same, the grass rippling where his body tears through. You force yourself to stop short, allowing Junior to pounce, covering him. His arms tremble as he brings the spear down into the warthog’s neck with a loud shout, forcing all his weight into the blow. The spear embeds itself into the warthog’s neck with a sickening squelch and Junior has to fight the dying throes of the warthog as it tries to lunge and pierce Junior with its tusks. Junior dances away, never releasing his grip on the spear. The warthog gives one final thrash before falling still, the only sound Junior’s heavy breathing. “Did I - Did I do it?” He laughs in disbelief, looking up to you for confirmation. You nod, smiling at the exuberance. Tenley appears a few moments later, cheeks flushed from her sprint, staring at the warthog. “We did it!” “Holy shit I can’t believe-” The two devolve into an excited hug as they dance around the warthog, shouting over each other as they speak in rushed sentences and laughter. You shake your head, a small smile on your lips as you watch their joyful jig. You let them enjoy the moment, leaning down to do the dirty work on your own, not wanting to interrupt. You carefully take the tarp and rope from your pack and begin to roll up and secure the warthog for transport. It is not long before Tenley and Junior stop their celebration and join you. Together, you all make quick work of wrapping the warthog up. You give your spear to Tenley and Junior also hands over his spear as the two of you carefully carry the warthog back to Jameson. [[The trip back filled with chatter and smiles]]

The warthog reels onto its hind legs, a short lived squeal unleashed before it collapses, your shot ringing true. There is a terse silence before it is shattered by Junior’s voice, “Holy shit, did you just kill it in one shot?” Disbelief is clear in his voice as he stumbles out from his hiding spot, mouth agape. “I got lucky,” you lie easily, “I knew I had support so it’s easier to keep a steady hand when you know there is a safety net.” Tenley joins Junior, the two of them staring at the warthog with expressions of awe and disappointment. “Remember what you learnt today and this will be your kill next time. In the meantime, you can have the honour of wrapping up and delivering our prize.” The two move quickly to take the tarp and rope from their packs and begin the process of rolling up and securing the warthog for transportation, excited for the hands-on experience. They whisper amongst each other, unaware that you can hear their hushed conversation. They express their disappointment in not getting to really do anything but they were impressed by your skills. You pretend to not hear them as you scan your surroundings. It is not long before Tenley and Junior finish wrapping the warthog. You take Tenley’s rifle and Junior’s spear so their hands were free to carry the warthog back to Jameson. You hear them grunt as they lift the warthog and follow you. [[The trip back filled with disgruntled mutters]]

“What do we have here?” Jameson asks, his exterior is calm and reserved but his eyes hold traces of disappointment while watching your group from atop his truck. He has an old camping chair planted in the middle of the truck bed and he sits in it with his anima rifle laid over his lap. The strange weapon pulsates as if in time with his heart; the red glow covering most of the weapon and dims and brightens in intervals. You direct a subtle but pointed look towards Tenley and Junior, the two tense briefly before stumbling into a mumbled and disjointed explanation. You feel Jameson’s eyes watching you the entire time while you stare just above his head, your face wearing a fake expression of interest as you listen to the pair and nod along with their words. “I see.” Tenley and Junior shift awkwardly, their eyes darting between Jameson and you. “You did well with what you were given. Go and rest.” The pair nods and leaves to stand ahead of the truck, whispering as they walk past. He sighs, aging before your eyes as he rubs his face, “Would a little more effort kill you?” You give him a little shrug and head tilt, “I don’t think I’m cut out for teaching,” you say earnestly. Jameson stands, readying himself for a lecture but gets distracted, his face shifting from a dark glower to a genuine smile, “Looks like we have a successful group.” Landon, Tanya and Isaac appear from the tall grass, carrying a wrapped warthog between the three of them. Unlike your own group, they are all smiles and Tanya and Isaac are quick to rush to Junior and Tenley to tell them of their hunt, your own charges looking envious as they chat. You are treated to a pointed look from Jameson before he ushers everyone back into the truck. You all pile in, careful around the new wrapped additions. The drive back to the commune is filled with low chatter and furtive glances towards you, which you skillfully ignore. One by one you are each dropped off until you find yourself near the west gate of the commune where you jump out; the truck quickly leaves and continues its journey down the dirt road towards the butcher. [[You begin the trek home]]

Immediately you note that the shot barely hit, a faint graze seen on the warthog’s hind. Realising that you needed to act quickly or lose your prey, you leap forward, bringing your spear down with great force into the side of the warthog. The warthog reels onto its hind legs and unleashes an ear piercing squeal, its tusks and hooves trying desperately to gorge you as it comes crashing down. You dance out of the way, spear spinning above your head before you thrust it into the neck of the warthog with a loud squelching sound, your full weight behind the blow. You hold firm even as the final dying throes of the warthog tries to unbalance you, skilfully avoiding the thrashing hooves and tusks of the warthog. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Junior and Tenley slowly come out of the grass, revealing shocked and awed expressions. Their eyes affixed on the warthog; watching as it gives one final thrash before falling still. You wait a beat, making sure it is really dead before stepping away. “Well done, we brought it down.” “I don’t know about this being a team effort…” “Sorry, my nerves-” “It’s done. We all played our role. If you feel the need to do more you can pack and transport the warthog back to Jameson.” The two move quickly to take the tarp and rope from their packs and begin the process of rolling up and securing the warthog for transportation, wanting to feel a part of the hunt. They whisper amongst each other, unaware that you can hear their hushed conversation. They express their disappointment in not getting to really do anything but they were impressed by your skills. You pretend to not hear them as you scan your surroundings. It is not long before Tenley and Junior finish wrapping the warthog. You take Tenley’s rifle and Junior’s spear so their hands were free to carry the warthog back to Jameson. You hear them grunt as they lift the warthog and follow you. [[The trip back filled with disgruntled mutters]]

You return to the truck in silence, a tense air draped around your group. Jameson quickly takes note of it, watching your group arrive atop his old camping chair placed in the middle of the truck bed. He sits in it with his anima rifle laid over his lap. The strange weapon pulsates as if in time with his heart; the red glow covering most of the weapon and dims and brightens in intervals. His eyes are narrowed and lips tightened inwards. “Didn’t listen to me, didya?” You simply nod, an air of nonchalance around you as you busy yourself returning the weapons back to the weapon rack. A low growl rumbles from Jameson’s chest and you can hear the scraping of his chair as he gets to his feet. “You’ll learn soon that this kind of attitude won’t get you far in life, $name. If I can’t teach you that, the military soon enough will.” His eyes darken as the word military leaves his lips. A bland smile is all he gets from you and you see the vein in his neck jump at your response. However, before he can storm down towards you he gets distracted, his face shifting from a dark glower to a genuine smile, “Looks like we have a successful group.” Landon, Tanya and Isaac appear from the tall grass, carrying a wrapped warthog between the three of them. Unlike your own group, they are all smiles and Tanya and Isaac are quick to rush to Junior and Tenley to tell them of their hunt, your own charges looking envious as they chat. You are treated to a pointed look from Jameson before he ushers everyone back into the truck. You all pile in, careful around the new wrapped additions. The drive back to the commune is filled with low chatter and furtive glances towards you, which you skillfully ignore. One by one you are each dropped off until you find yourself near the west gate of the commune where you jump out; the truck quickly leaves and continues its journey down the dirt road towards the butcher. [[You begin the trek home]]

It is a short walk to the gate, the dirt road filled with others from the commune hurrying home alongside you, farmers using old hover carts to carry their yield and children zigzagging between the carts. You give a nod of greeting to one of the gate’s guards and they nod back before continuing to scan the perimeter. When you pass the commune’s archway you feel the barrier ripple around you and the air instantly becomes cooler inside. The commune is as busy as ever, there are booming voices and laughter as well as dirt being kicked up by hover bikes zooming past as they complete their deliveries. <fieldset>\ [[• You greet and chat to people as you walk, friendly to anyone you come across.]] [[• You are polite but not overly friendly]] [[• You evade any attempt at conversation, preferring to keep to yourself]] [[• You ignore any conversation]] </fieldset>\

“$name!” “How was the hunt today?” “When are you coming over for dinner again?” You chat to and greet all those you run into on the road, cheerfully laughing along and joining in on the banter as you journey further into the commune. It is a tight knit community and you can recall the name of every person that you run into. New Dawn has been around for about fifty years now. Before, wastelanders would keep to themselves and only trade and gather at caravan stops but with attacks rising communes began to form. New Dawn were one of the first communes and they established a council and delegated tasks and responsibilities around the commune to make life easier for all. Your parents hold a seat on the council as the heads of the merchant guild. They are often away traveling between communes to form trade agreements and act as diplomatic envoys. While chatting you see people begin to bow. Then they make their thumb and index finger into a C-shape on their right hand while keeping their other fingers curled. The C-shape is level with their foreheads, and they move it up and away from their body. This is a greeting to a woman with stark white hair and umber skin worn by time, “May the All Mother watch over you.” She walks slowly forward, leaning heavily on her weathered wooden cane and her green robes drag across the dirt. “Her blessings are abundant,” the woman will croak back, her smile wide and showing gaps amongst her teeth. <fieldset>\ [[• You echo the greeting, your spiritual connection to the Gods strong.]] [[• You hesitate to follow, unsure about the Gods.]] [[• You stay silent, you do not believe in the old ways.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $communefriendly to true>>

“$name!” “Just returned from your hunt?” You stop to have a brief conversation with those who step into your path or call out, maintaining a polite tone and expressing interest where needed. The conversations never veer any deeper than the expected surface level as you are acquaintances, not friends. It is difficult to know every single person in the commune. New Dawn has been around for about fifty years now. Before, wastelanders would keep to themselves and only trade and gather at caravan stops but with attacks rising communes began to form. New Dawn were one of the first communes and they established a council and delegated tasks and responsibilities around the commune to make life easier for all. Your parents hold a seat on the council as the heads of the merchant guild. They are often away traveling between communes to form trade agreements and act as diplomatic envoys. While chatting you see people begin to bow. Then they make their thumb and index finger into a C-shape on their right hand while keeping their other fingers curled. The C-shape is level with their foreheads, and they move it up and away from their body. This is a greeting to a woman with stark white hair and umber skin worn by time, “May the All Mother watch over you.” She walks slowly forward, leaning heavily on her weathered wooden cane and her green robes drag across the dirt. “Her blessings are abundant,” the woman will croak back, her smile wide and showing gaps amongst her teeth. <fieldset>\ [[• You echo the greeting, your spiritual connection to the Gods strong.]] [[• You hesitate to follow, unsure about the Gods.]] [[• You stay silent, you do not believe in the old ways.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $communepolite to true>>

You lower your head and quicken your pace, doing your best to avoid engaging in conversation with people. If someone calls out you pretend to not hear them or give them a shrug and gesture to your backpack trying to indicate that you are busy and can’t stop talking. It is a tried and true method and you are able to easily navigate around the crowd of people. However, your escape is blocked by a larger crowd on the road. New Dawn is a tight knit community and everyone is familiar with each other. It is not uncommon to see large crowds gathering around the roads if something has happened. The commune has been around for about fifty years now. Before, wastelanders would keep to themselves and only trade and gather at caravan stops but with attacks rising communes began to form. New Dawn were one of the first communes and they established a council and delegated tasks and responsibilities around the commune to make life easier for all. Your parents hold a seat on the council as the heads of the merchant guild. They are often away traveling between communes to form trade agreements and act as diplomatic envoys. While looking for a way around the crowd you notice the people begin to bow. Then they make their thumb and index finger into a C-shape on their right hand while keeping their other fingers curled. The C-shape is level with their foreheads, and they move it up and away from their body. This is a greeting to a woman with stark white hair and umber skin worn by time, “May the All Mother watch over you.” She walks slowly forward, leaning heavily on her weathered wooden cane and her green robes drag across the dirt. “Her blessings are abundant,” the woman will croak back, her smile wide and showing gaps amongst her teeth. <fieldset>\ [[You echo the greeting, your spiritual connection to the Gods strong|• Echo evade version]] [[You hesitate to follow, unsure about the Gods|• Hesitate evade version]] [[• You stay silent, you do not believe in the old ways.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $communeawkward to true>>

An impassive expression is worn on your face as you walk down the road, eyes firmly ahead and any attempt at conversation blocked out as you focus on getting to your destination. Some try, calling out a greeting but most are used to your single mindedness and leave you to whatever task you seem focused on. New Dawn is a tight knit community and everyone is familiar with each other. It is not uncommon to see large crowds gathering around the roads if something has happened. The commune has been around for about fifty years now. Before, wastelanders would keep to themselves and only trade and gather at caravan stops but with attacks rising communes began to form. New Dawn were one of the first communes and they established a council and delegated tasks and responsibilities around the commune to make life easier for all. Your parents hold a seat on the council as the heads of the merchant guild. They are often away traveling between communes to form trade agreements and act as diplomatic envoys. While looking for a way around the crowd you notice the people begin to bow. Then they make their thumb and index finger into a C-shape on their right hand while keeping their other fingers curled. The C-shape is level with their foreheads, and they move it up and away from their body. This is a greeting to a woman with stark white hair and umber skin worn by time, “May the All Mother watch over you.” She walks slowly forward, leaning heavily on her weathered wooden cane and her green robes drag across the dirt. “Her blessings are abundant,” the woman will croak back, her smile wide and showing gaps amongst her teeth. <fieldset>\ [[You echo the greeting, your spiritual connection to the Gods strong|• Echo evade version]] [[You hesitate to follow, unsure about the Gods|• Hesitate evade version]] [[• You stay silent, you do not believe in the old ways.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $communerude to true>>

No sound leaves your mouth to join the swell of voices that rise to join in the joyful chorus around you. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. “All are deserving of the All Mother’s blessings,” Her smile remains gentle, “Even those who have turned away.” Elder Noxolo’s eyes are dark brown but have a slight milky film over them, giving her an eerie aura when staring directly into your own. Her hand is rough and skin leathery, marking the years that she has spent in the fields and under the sun. She gently tucks her arm into yours and faces the crowd. “I am sorry to steal $name away but there are matters that must be discussed before the end of day.” Everyone immediately bows and disperses, sending out their blessings and some patting your back and wishing you well. You are slowly led to the caravan of Elder Noxolo. Her caravan has been painted with beautiful murals depicting the All Mother, a goddess who is shown to hold the form of a woman with dark skin, black hair and eyes that hold the galaxy. She is adorned in a dress that hangs the sun, moon and stars on a midnight blue canvas. The sea moves beneath her. The caravan is smaller than most of the caravans in the commune, this one is only meant to hold one person compared to the caravans that normally hold 4-6 people. You take off your shoes as you are ushered inside and you take a seat on the carpeted floor, the rich red and orange carpet worn but the weave still beautiful. The cushion sinks under your weight and you face the low table that has a simple tea set placed on it. [[Elder Conversation|Ignore Elder Convo Version]] <<set $lostoldgodfaith to true>> <<set $staysilent to true>>

You hesitate and your voice joins late in the chorus, the harmonious greeting slightly offset by your delayed entry. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. “Oh $name, I see shades of your parents in you,” If she notices your hesitation she does not say anything, “The people of New Dawn admire you.” Elder Noxolo’s eyes are dark brown but have a slight milky film over them, giving her an eerie aura when staring directly into your own. Her hand is rough and skin leathery, marking the years that she has spent in the fields and under the sun. She gently tucks her arm into yours and faces the crowd. “I am sorry to steal $name away but there are matters that must be discussed before the end of day.” Everyone immediately bows and disperses, sending out their blessings and some patting your back and wishing you well. You are slowly led to the caravan of Elder Noxolo. Her caravan has been painted with beautiful murals depicting the All Mother, a goddess who is shown to hold the form of a woman with dark skin, black hair and eyes that hold the galaxy. She is adorned in a dress that hangs the sun, moon and stars on a midnight blue canvas. The sea moves beneath her. The caravan is smaller than most of the caravans in the commune, this one is only meant to hold one person compared to the caravans that normally hold 4-6 people. You take off your shoes as you are ushered inside and you take a seat on the carpeted floor, the rich red and orange carpet worn but the weave still beautiful. The cushion sinks under your weight and you face the low table that has a simple tea set placed on it. [[Elder Conversation|hesitate elder convo version]] <<set $scepticaloldgods to true>> <<set $hesitate to true>>

<<if $communefriendly is true>>Your voice joins in the chorus and is strong and confident as you ask for the All Mother to watch over Elder Noxolo. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. “Oh $name, you really take after your parents. You are truly loved by the people of New Dawn.”<<elseif $communepolite is true>>Your voice joins in the chorus and is strong and confident as you ask for the All Mother to watch over Elder Noxolo. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. “Oh $name, I see your merchant roots. You are growing into a fine member of this commune.”<</if>> Elder Noxolo’s eyes are dark brown but have a slight milky film over them, giving her an eerie aura when staring directly into your own. Her hand is rough and skin leathery, marking the years that she has spent in the fields and under the sun. She gently tucks her arm into yours and faces the crowd. “I am sorry to steal $name away but there are matters that must be discussed before the end of day.” Everyone immediately bows and disperses, sending out their blessings and some patting your back and wishing you well. You are slowly led to the caravan of Elder Noxolo. Her caravan has been painted with beautiful murals depicting the All Mother, a goddess who is shown to hold the form of a woman with dark skin, black hair and eyes that hold the galaxy. She is adorned in a dress that hangs the sun, moon and stars on a midnight blue canvas. The sea moves beneath her. The caravan is smaller than most of the caravans in the commune, this one is only meant to hold one person compared to the caravans that normally hold 4-6 people. You take off your shoes as you are ushered inside and you take a seat on the carpeted floor, the rich red and orange carpet worn but the weave still beautiful. The cushion sinks under your weight and you face the low table that has a simple tea set placed on it. [[Elder Conversation|elder convo echo version]] <<set $believeinoldgods to true>> <<set $echo to true>>

Incense burns steadily on the table and you find yourself inhaling the scent of sandalwood and jasmine while Elder Noxolo carefully prepares the tea. She sits opposite you and lights the portable plate with a match and you hear the click as the gas ignites and steadily boils the kettle. While the water is boiling she takes out two tea bags and places them in the porcelain teacups. Her hands are steady and she performs the preparation with a serene expression, the crow’s feet deepened by her smile. It is not too long before you find a teacup in front of you, the steam rising slowly to tickle your face. Elder Noxolo lightly holds her own teacup between her two hands, enjoying the warmth, and her eyes are intently observing you. “Do you know why I have called you here today?” The soft humming of the air conditioner fills the air and you watch as Elder Noxolo brings her teacup to her face. She blows twice before taking a careful sip, her eyes closing and her smile widening as the steam curls around her. You look down at your own teacup and see the teabag stewing, the contents of the cup growing amber in colour. “You want to talk about the future. My future, once I am drafted.” She nods slowly, a strange melancholy in her eyes. “Soon a helicopter will arrive to take all those who are of age to the Buchholz Academy to begin their training. You will be away from home for a minimum of six years. Four years in the academy and then two years of mandatory service. I have been taking aside everyone over the course of the week and you are the final person I will counsel.” Her teacup is placed back on the table with a faint click. “Those who dwell within the cities have lost sight of the old ways. They have forgotten what the Gods have given us and have taken it upon themselves to fill the throne left.” Her eyebrows are furrowed and voice low, wrinkled hands clasped tightly. “I know you have held our teachings in your heart but you will be tested and need to hold fast. The All Mother will always protect her children. Walk in her light and she will guide you on this new journey.” Her hand stretches out to cover your own, squeezing your hand gently and a soft smile on her face. [[Continue|Elder Talk echo v]]

Incense burns steadily on the table and you find yourself inhaling the scent of sandalwood and jasmine while Elder Noxolo carefully prepares the tea. She sits opposite you and lights the portable plate with a match and you hear the click as the gas ignites and steadily boils the kettle. While the water is boiling she takes out two tea bags and places them in the porcelain teacups. Her hands are steady and she performs the preparation with a serene expression, the crow’s feet deepened by her smile. It is not too long before you find a teacup in front of you, the steam rising slowly to tickle your face. Elder Noxolo lightly holds her own teacup between her two hands, enjoying the warmth, and her eyes are intently observing you. “Do you know why I have called you here today?” The soft humming of the air conditioner fills the air and you watch as Elder Noxolo brings her teacup to her face. She blows twice before taking a careful sip, her eyes closing and her smile widening as the steam curls around her. You look down at your own teacup and see the teabag stewing, the contents of the cup growing amber in colour. “You want to talk about the future. My future, once I am drafted.” She nods slowly, a strange melancholy in her eyes. “Soon a helicopter will arrive to take all those who are of age to the Buchholz Academy to begin their training. You will be away from home for a minimum of six years. Four years in the academy and then two years of mandatory service. I have been taking aside everyone over the course of the week and you are the final person I will counsel.” Her teacup is placed back on the table with a faint click. “Those who dwell within the cities have lost sight of the old ways. They have forgotten what the Gods have given us and have taken it upon themselves to fill the throne left.” Her eyebrows are furrowed and voice low, wrinkled hands clasped tightly. “I know that you have questions and your faith is shaken but you must reflect on our old ways and find strength and wisdom in it. The All Mother will always protect her children. Walk in her light and she will guide you on this new journey.” Her hand stretches to cover your own and her eyes and voice implore you to listen. [[Continue|Elder Talk hesitate v]]

<<if $communeawkward is true>> Your voice joins in the chorus and is strong and confident as you ask for the All Mother to watch over Elder Noxolo. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. “Running with your head down as usual, $name? It is difficult to remember who your parents are when I see you like this.”<<elseif $communerude is true>>Your voice joins in the chorus and is strong and confident as you ask for the All Mother to watch over Elder Noxolo. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. “I look forward to seeing what path you carve out for yourself from your parents, $name. While you do not share their silvertongue you have your own strengths.”<</if>> Elder Noxolo’s eyes are dark brown but have a slight milky film over them, giving her an eerie aura when staring directly into your own. Her hand is rough and skin leathery, marking the years that she has spent in the fields and under the sun. She gently tucks her arm into yours and faces the crowd. “I wish I could stop and chat more but I have business with $name.” Everyone immediately bows and disperses, sending out their blessings and some patting your back and wishing you well. You are slowly led to the caravan of Elder Noxolo. Her caravan has been painted with beautiful murals depicting the All Mother, a goddess who is shown to hold the form of a woman with dark skin, black hair and eyes that hold the galaxy. She is adorned in a dress that hangs the sun, moon and stars on a midnight blue canvas. The sea moves beneath her. The caravan is smaller than most of the caravans in the commune, this one is only meant to hold one person compared to the caravans that normally hold 4-6 people. You take off your shoes as you are ushered inside and you take a seat on the carpeted floor, the rich red and orange carpet worn but the weave still beautiful. The cushion sinks under your weight and you face the low table that has a simple tea set placed on it. [[Elder Conversation|elder convo echo version]] <<set $believeinoldgods to true>> <<set $echo to true>>

<<if $communeawkward is true>>You hesitate and your voice joins late in the chorus, the harmonious greeting slightly offset by your delayed entry. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. If she notices your hesitation she does not say anything, “Come child, you cannot avoid this conversation.”<<elseif $communerude is true>>You hesitate and your voice joins late in the chorus, the harmonious greeting slightly offset by your delayed entry. She raises her hand and signs a crescent moon in the air before each person as she walks. She stops in front of you, makes the sign and then shakily lays her hand on your arm. If she notices your hesitation she does not say anything, “Come child, I promise to not delay you too much.”<</if>> Elder Noxolo’s eyes are dark brown but have a slight milky film over them, giving her an eerie aura when staring directly into your own. Her hand is rough and skin leathery, marking the years that she has spent in the fields and under the sun. She gently tucks her arm into yours and faces the crowd. “I wish I could stop and chat more but I have business with $name.” Everyone immediately bows and disperses, sending out their blessings and some patting your back and wishing you well. You are slowly led to the caravan of Elder Noxolo. Her caravan has been painted with beautiful murals depicting the All Mother, a goddess who is shown to hold the form of a woman with dark skin, black hair and eyes that hold the galaxy. She is adorned in a dress that hangs the sun, moon and stars on a midnight blue canvas. The sea moves beneath her. The caravan is smaller than most of the caravans in the commune, this one is only meant to hold one person compared to the caravans that normally hold 4-6 people. You take off your shoes as you are ushered inside and you take a seat on the carpeted floor, the rich red and orange carpet worn but the weave still beautiful. The cushion sinks under your weight and you face the low table that has a simple tea set placed on it. [[Elder Conversation|hesitate elder convo version]] <<set $scepticaloldgods to true>> <<set $hesitate to true>>

Incense burns steadily on the table and you find yourself inhaling the scent of sandalwood and jasmine while Elder Noxolo carefully prepares the tea. She sits opposite you and lights the portable plate with a match and you hear the click as the gas ignites and steadily boils the kettle. While the water is boiling she takes out two tea bags and places them in the porcelain teacups. Her hands are steady and she performs the preparation with a serene expression, the crow’s feet deepened by her smile. It is not too long before you find a teacup in front of you, the steam rising slowly to tickle your face. Elder Noxolo lightly holds her own teacup between her two hands, enjoying the warmth, and her eyes are intently observing you. “Do you know why I have called you here today?” The soft humming of the air conditioner fills the air and you watch as Elder Noxolo brings her teacup to her face. She blows twice before taking a careful sip, her eyes closing and her smile widening as the steam curls around her. You look down at your own teacup and see the teabag stewing, the contents of the cup growing amber in colour. “You want to talk about the future. My future, once I am drafted.” She nods slowly, a strange melancholy in her eyes. “Soon a helicopter will arrive to take all those who are of age to the Buchholz Academy to begin their training. You will be away from home for a minimum of six years. Four years in the academy and then two years of mandatory service. I have been taking aside everyone over the course of the week and you are the final person I will counsel.” Her teacup is placed back on the table with a faint click. “Those who dwell within the cities have lost sight of the old ways. They have forgotten what the Gods have given us and have taken it upon themselves to fill the throne left.” Her eyebrows are furrowed and voice low, wrinkled hands clasped tightly. “You have drifted from the old ways and turned your back on the light of the All Mother. I know not of your struggle but know that She will always offer her guidance. The All Mother will always protect her children.” Her face is serious and her hand hovers over your own before eventually patting it. [[Continue|Elder Talk ignore v]]

The teacup starts to cool in your hand, now a comforting warm presence to grasp onto, and Elder Noxolo continues. “A prayer will be held tonight to bless all those who will soon leave. You will be expected to stand in the front and represent our commune as a child of the council. Bring honour to us and show the unbelievers that we are strong and will not bow.” Her milky eyes stare into your own as if staring into your soul. Her tone leaves no room for argument. The caravan falls silent as you watch the elder slowly lean under the table and retrieve some materials. You see her pull out a mortar and pestle, some dry herbs and a matchbox. The wooden mortar has intricately carved stars and a moon on the mahogany surface with silver paint carefully inlaid onto the carvings. The mortar and pestle have small nicks and wear from years of use but has a well cared for appearance. Wrinkled hands carefully drop the dry herbs into the mortar and are gently grounded down by the pestle, the thumping sound rhythmic. Elder Noxolo’s voice is ethereal as she sings quietly while grinding down the herbs, the old language hypnotic as words long lost to history but save a few are sung to the heavens. You are able to recognise most of the prayer from years of listening to the Elders and from seeking out their teachings. The words slowly form in your mind as you watch Elder Noxolo sway and light a match before igniting the herbs, a puff of blue smoke rising from the mortar. “All Mother I am greeting you, All Mother I am greeting you, All Mother I am greeting you. Show your child what you wish, I am but your faithful vessel, To which to pour your blessings into. Power is reborn to defend against the powers of death and destruction, The power of Transformation is with the All Mother, There are no strangers on the road of Mystery.” Her hands carefully raise the mortar into the air and she slowly moves it in a circular motion above her head, the blue smoke flowing out and lazily forming a ring in the air. A subtle, sweet, and woody scent with hints of mint and citrus fills your nose as you inhale, your eyes focused on the blue smoke as you sway along to the prayer of Elder Noxolo. Her voice rises in strength as she brings the mortar to rest in front of you, waving the smoke into your face. “Guide us, Support us, Protect us. Exist always All Mother, Exist always in our tradition.” You open your mouth, wishing to praise the All Mother alongside Elder Noxolo, but your tongue feels heavy. The scent gets stronger and stronger as the smoke wafts into your face and you feel your body become lighter as your eyes grow heavy. You hear the now hoarse voice of Elder Noxolo one last time before you drift away, “Let your child see the path that awaits ahead by your mercy.” [[Continue|Divination]]

The teacup starts to cool in your hand, now a comforting warm presence to grasp onto, and Elder Noxolo continues. “A prayer will be held tonight to bless all those who will soon leave. You will be expected to stand in the front and represent our commune as a child of the council. Bring honour to us and show the unbelievers that we are strong and will not bow.” Her milky eyes stare into your own as if staring into your soul. Her tone leaves no room for argument. The caravan falls silent as you watch the elder slowly lean under the table and retrieve some materials. You see her pull out a mortar and pestle, some dry herbs and a matchbox. The wooden mortar has intricately carved stars and a moon on the mahogany surface with silver paint carefully inlaid onto the carvings. The mortar and pestle have small nicks and wear from years of use but has a well cared for appearance. Wrinkled hands carefully drop the dry herbs into the mortar and are gently grounded down by the pestle, the thumping sound rhythmic. Elder Noxolo’s voice is ethereal as she sings quietly while grinding down the herbs, the old language hypnotic as words long lost to history but save a few are sung to the heavens. You struggle to recognise the prayer as you only remember some of the teachings from the Elders. The words are barely able to form in your mind as you watch Elder Noxolo sway and light a match before igniting the herbs, a puff of blue smoke rising from the mortar. “All Mother I am greeting you, All Mother I am greeting you, All Mother I am greeting you. Show your child what you wish, I am but your faithful vessel, To which to pour your blessings into.” Her hands carefully raise the mortar into the air and she slowly moves it in a circular motion above her head, the blue smoke flowing out and lazily forming a ring in the air. A subtle, sweet, and woody scent with hints of mint and citrus fills your nose as you inhale, your eyes focused on the blue smoke as you sway along to the prayer of Elder Noxolo. Her voice rises in strength as she brings the mortar to rest in front of you, waving the smoke into your face. The rest of the prayer is lost as you are unable to decipher the old language further. However, it is not too long before Elder Noxolo starts to grow closer to the end of her prayer. The scent gets stronger and stronger as the smoke wafts into your face and you feel your body become lighter as your eyes grow heavy. You hear the now hoarse voice of Elder Noxolo one last time before you drift away, “Let your child see the path that awaits ahead by your mercy.” [[Continue|Divination]]

The teacup starts to cool in your hand, now a comforting warm presence to grasp onto, and Elder Noxolo continues. “A prayer will be held tonight to bless all those who will soon leave. You will be expected to stand in the front and represent our commune as a child of the council. Bring honour to us and show the unbelievers that we are strong and will not bow.” Her milky eyes stare into your own as if staring into your soul. Her tone leaves no room for argument. The caravan falls silent as you watch the elder slowly lean under the table and retrieve some materials. You see her pull out a mortar and pestle, some dry herbs and a matchbox. The wooden mortar has intricately carved stars and a moon on the mahogany surface with silver paint carefully inlaid onto the carvings. The mortar and pestle have small nicks and wear from years of use but has a well cared for appearance. Wrinkled hands carefully drop the dry herbs into the mortar and are gently grounded down by the pestle, the thumping sound rhythmic. Elder Noxolo’s voice is ethereal as she sings quietly while grinding down the herbs, the old language hypnotic as words long lost to history but save a few are sung to the heavens. The prayer is a beautiful song but rings hollow to you. Try as you might, you cannot understand what she is saying, you who have failed to absorb the teachings of your commune Elders. You can only watch as Elder Noxolo sways and lights a match before igniting the herbs, a puff of blue smoke rising from the mortar. Her hands carefully raise the mortar into the air and she slowly moves it in a circular motion above her head, the blue smoke flowing out and lazily forming a ring in the air. A subtle, sweet, and woody scent with hints of mint and citrus fills your nose as you inhale, your eyes focused on the blue smoke as you sway along to the prayer of Elder Noxolo. Her voice rises in strength as she brings the mortar to rest in front of you, waving the smoke into your face. The hypnotic voice continues and you find yourself lost. However, it is not too long before Elder Noxolo starts to grow closer to the end of her prayer. The scent gets stronger and stronger as the smoke wafts into your face and you feel your body become lighter as your eyes grow heavy. You hear the now hoarse voice of Elder Noxolo one last time before you drift away, “Let your child see the path that awaits ahead by your mercy.” [[Continue|Divination]]

The world moves rapidly around you, forests and lakes are replaced by destroyed buildings and broken bodies. The ground shakes and you fall, air whipping across your body and your mouth opens to scream but then you find yourself caught in a pit of tar. Black ichor dragging you down and filling your mouth, gold eyes piercing through the darkness to stare at you. The thumping of your heart can be heard as you are dragged under and disappear into the ichor before finding yourself standing on a battlefield in front of thousands upon thousands of exilliums as far as the eye can see. Muffled voices are incoherent in your mind, their pleading tones going ignored as you can’t rip your eyes away from the destruction in front of you. Agony rips through your body as you fall to your knees, screaming out as your chest feels like it wants to rip itself in two. Your hands frantically claw at your chest, desperate to rid yourself of the pain but when you look down you see that your hands are covered in black scales and your nails like talons. Blood stains your hands and your body trembles as out of the corner of your eye you spot a figure laying in a pool of blood next to you. You turn your head to see who the figure is but you find Elder Noxolo standing in front of you. Her milky eyes stare down onto your kneeling and shaking form. Her weathered hand gently rests upon your head and her raspy voice cuts through the haze in your mind, “That is enough. It is time to return.” [[A choked gasp escapes your mouth as you awake]]

“Careful, breathe slowly. Deep breath in, hold and then slowly exhale.” Elder Noxolo’s voice coos gently next to you as you shakily follow her instructions, your chest rattling as you try to calm your breathing. You can feel your clothes sticking to you as sweat clings to your form. Your teacup sits shattered on the table, the tea slowly expanding across the surface. “Focus on my voice and your breathing. Let yourself slowly come back to your body.” The panic starts to slowly subside as you continue to breathe in as slowly, deeply and gently as you can, through your nose. You wiggle your fingers and then your toes, sensation returning. You breathe out slowly, deeply and gently through your mouth. Your eyes slowly open and you find Elder Noxolo seated next to you and her hand on your back. <fieldset>\ [[• “What was that?”]] [[• Tense up under her hand]] [[• Move away from her]] </fieldset>\

Your head slowly lowers to look down at your hands, expecting to find black scales and talons, but you are greeted by your normal hands albeit shakier than usual. “What was that?” Your words come out raspy and you find your throat sore as if you overexerted your vocal chords. The images of what you just saw flash through your mind and you struggle to focus on them, the images like a wisp of smoke that escapes when you try to grasp it with your hand. “The All Mother showed you the path that you will walk.” “My path? Like my future?” You croak out, your eyebrows furrowed and you find a dull pain forming behind your eyes. You pinch the bridge of your nose trying to relieve the pain. You hear a faint clinking sound and as you open your eyes you see Elder Noxolo carefully cleaning up the broken teacup. “Your path is but the journey you will make in life. The experiences you will have, the decisions you will make and the goal you work towards. She has shown you what awaits on that path. It is now up to you to decide whether you will walk it under her blessing or go it alone.” Elder Noxolo gently wipes the table, removing the pool of tea from the surface. <fieldset>\ [[• “I need only my own strength for the path I walk”]] [[• “I need time to think, it is all too much right now”]] [[• “I will walk forward with Her grace”]] </fieldset>\

Tension ripples through your body, your muscles coiling up and your joints locking as you struggle to shake the last of the images from your mind. Elder Noxolo’s hand rests against your back and you flinch at the sudden touch. Her hand startles, lifting briefly off your back before tentatively settling down again. “Calm your heart, $name. The All Mother has shown you the path you will walk.” “My path?” You croak out, your eyebrows furrowed and you find a dull pain forming behind your eyes. You pinch the bridge of your nose trying to relieve the pain. You hear a faint clinking sound and as you open your eyes you see Elder Noxolo carefully cleaning up the broken teacup. “Your path is but the journey you will make in life. The experiences you will have, the decisions you will make and the goal you work towards. She has shown you what awaits on that path. It is now up to you to decide whether you will walk it under her blessing or go it alone.” Elder Noxolo gently wipes the table, removing the pool of tea from the surface. <fieldset>\ [[• “I need only my own strength for the path I walk”]] [[• “I need time to think, it is all too much right now”]] [[• “I will walk forward with Her grace”]] </fieldset>\

The table is shoved with a startling screech as you roughly push up to your feet, your chest heaving as you move to a window and lean out. You suck in the fresh air and close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. Elder Noxolo watches with a distressed expression, the hand that was on your back hovering in the air. An awkward silence settles around you as Elder Noxolo waits for you to regain control, waiting patiently as she quietly cleans the table. Finally you turn around, the cool air from the open window pressing against your back. “I know that you refuse to follow the old ways but that does not change the fact that the All Mother has chosen to show you the path you will walk.” Elder Noxolo’s lips are pursed and her hands rest in her lap. “My path? That was just a drug trip!” You choke out a laugh, your eyebrows raised and mouth torn between a smile and snarl. Elder Noxolo sighs and shakes her head, “Believe what you will. It will not change what you saw. Your path is but the journey you will make in life. The experiences you will have, the decisions you will make and the goal you work towards.” Elder Noxolo gently wipes the table, removing the pool of tea from the surface, “She has shown you what awaits on that path. It is now up to you to decide whether you will walk it under her blessing or go it alone.” <fieldset>\ [[• “I need only my own strength for the path I walk”]] [[• “I need time to think, it is all too much right now”|Move away version]] </fieldset>\

There is a soft scraping sound as you push the table away, allowing you space to get to your feet. You rise and give a shallow, polite bow to Elder Noxolo. “I appreciate the time you have given me today, Elder Noxolo. I will not keep you any longer as I must prepare for tonight.” You walk towards the caravan door and as your hand pushes down on the handle you say without turning back, “I need only my own strength for the path I walk.” You hear a deep sigh as you step down the stairs and make your way back to your own home. The sun has started to dip and the sky is a beautiful mix of blue, purple and orange that stretches above and paints the world in its soft hues. There is a chill to the air now and it nips at your skin as you walk. One by one the caravans light up as the automated timers go off and you find your road lit up. It is not long before you come to your family’s caravan. A modest sized caravan with a large sign that bears the name $surname on the front door. You press your hand against the scanner before pressing down the handle, letting yourself in. The lights automatically switch on as you open the door and you hear the sound of windows opening and the radio switch on, the cheerful voice of the broadcaster echoing through the caravan. “Don’t be late for tonight’s ceremony! We give our blessings to twenty of our youth tonight and call on the All Mother to guide Her children. Bring your drinks, meat and tribute for the fire. We will all gather outside the community hall at sunset.” The announcement is followed by music and you let it become background noise as you walk towards the table where a note lays. [[Read note]]

“I- I need time,” your hands rest on your knees and you squeeze them, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I have to process everything that just happened. I can’t make this decision lightly.” There is a soft scraping sound as you push the table away, allowing you space to get to your feet. “I appreciate the time you have given me today, Elder Noxolo. I will not keep you any longer as I must prepare for tonight.” You slowly approach the door, your body heavy as you push down on the handle. “Take care, $name. It is a difficult road to walk alone.” You nod, giving a tight lipped smile before leaving. The sun has started to dip and the sky is a beautiful mix of blue, purple and orange that stretches above and paints the world in its soft hues. There is a chill to the air now and it nips at your skin as you walk. One by one the caravans light up as the automated timers go off and you find your road lit up. It is not long before you come to your family’s caravan. A modest sized caravan with a large sign that bears the name $surname on the front door. You press your hand against the scanner before pressing down the handle, letting yourself in. The lights automatically switch on as you open the door and you hear the sound of windows opening and the radio switch on, the cheerful voice of the broadcaster echoing through the caravan. “Don’t be late for tonight’s ceremony! We give our blessings to twenty of our youth tonight and call on the All Mother to guide Her children. Bring your drinks, meat and tribute for the fire. We will all gather outside the community hall at sunset.” The announcement is followed by music and you let it become background noise as you walk towards the table where a note lays. [[Read note]]

You lean back into Elder Noxolo’s touch, comforted by her presence. Her hand is warm and anchors you in the moment. The tension slowly leaves as you roll back your shoulders and flex your hands. You turn to face Elder Noxolo, taking in her motherly smile. “I will walk the path with Her grace.” Your face is resolute, hands clenched and spine straight. “You will make Her and your commune proud, $name” You feel the rough calluses of Elder Noxolo’s hand as she cups your cheek gently. She then leans forward, resting her forehead on yours and whispers, “May the shadows scatter before Her light.” Your own eyes close as you take in the warmth of her hand and forehead, murmuring your thanks before you push the table out and get to your feet. Elder Noxolo watches you with a fond gaze as you make your way to the door. “Thank you for your teachings, Elder. I will keep them close as I venture out.” You step down the stairs and make your way back to your own home. The sun has started to dip and the sky is a beautiful mix of blue, purple and orange that stretches above and paints the world in its soft hues. There is a chill to the air now and it nips at your skin as you walk. One by one the caravans light up as the automated timers go off and you find your road lit up. It is not long before you come to your family’s caravan. A modest sized caravan with a large sign that bears the name $surname on the front door. You press your hand against the scanner before pressing down the handle, letting yourself in. The lights automatically switch on as you open the door and you hear the sound of windows opening and the radio switch on, the cheerful voice of the broadcaster echoing through the caravan. “Don’t be late for tonight’s ceremony! We give our blessings to twenty of our youth tonight and call on the All Mother to guide Her children. Bring your drinks, meat and tribute for the fire. We will all gather outside the community hall at sunset.” The announcement is followed by music and you let it become background noise as you walk towards the table where a note lays. [[Read note]]

“I- I need time,” your hand comes up to pinch your nose bridge, a dull throbbing pain beginning to form behind your eyes. “I have to process everything that just happened. I can’t make this decision lightly.” You lean against the caravan wall, the cool metal anchoring you as you press your flushed face into it. Your mind is racing, thoughts clashing as you struggle between your own rationale and what you just saw. You slowly push away from the caravan wall and turn to face Elder Noxolo. “I appreciate the time you have given me today, Elder Noxolo. I will not keep you any longer as I must prepare for tonight.” You slowly approach the door, your body heavy as you push down on the handle. “Take care, $name. It is a difficult road to walk alone.” You nod, giving a tight lipped smile before leaving. The sun has started to dip and the sky is a beautiful mix of blue, purple and orange that stretches above and paints the world in its soft hues. There is a chill to the air now and it nips at your skin as you walk. One by one the caravans light up as the automated timers go off and you find your road lit up. It is not long before you come to your family’s caravan. A modest sized caravan with a large sign that bears the name $surname on the front door. You press your hand against the scanner before pressing down the handle, letting yourself in. The lights automatically switch on as you open the door and you hear the sound of windows opening and the radio switch on, the cheerful voice of the broadcaster echoing through the caravan. “Don’t be late for tonight’s ceremony! We give our blessings to twenty of our youth tonight and call on the All Mother to guide Her children. Bring your drinks, meat and tribute for the fire. We will all gather outside the community hall at sunset.” The announcement is followed by music and you let it become background noise as you walk towards the table where a note lays. [[Read note]]

It is a simple yellow sticky note with a small water stain in the corner. You instantly recognise the familiar cursive scrawl as your mother’s handwriting. “Your outfit is in your room, we will see you tonight, love mum.” You pocket the sticky note and go to the back of the caravan where a ladder lays against the wall. The metal rungs are cold under your hands as you easily scale up the ladder to get to the hatch that leads to your room. The hatch swings open with a small push and you find yourself in your loft room, a small attachment on top of the caravan that you asked for as a teen so you could stargaze. It is a simple room. A futon rolled up and tossed to the corner, your desk and dresser squeezed in at the back and your wardrobe and TV pushed against the wall. You see your outfit bag hanging off the handle of your wardrobe. The cool metal floor is soon replaced by a lush carpet and you can feel the cool night breeze coming through the open skylight. You crane your neck back and see the stars starting to come out as you stare out of your skylight, the moon not yet visible as the sun still slowly descends behind the mountains. You turn away from the sight and head to the bathroom, your body moving quickly through the motions as you prepare for tonight. After washing up you start to get ready properly, deciding your appearance for the evening. <<link 'How do you wish for people to refer to you as?'>> <<pronouns>> <</link>> <<nobr>>Standing in front of the mirror you take in your <<cycle "$bodytype" autoselect>> <<option "lanky">> <<option "slender">> <<option "athletic">> <<option "burly">> <<option "stocky">> <<option "ample">> <<option "lean">> <<option "wiry">> <<option "voluptuous">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> figure. <<nobr>>Your <<cycle "$skincolour" autoselect>> <<option "golden brown">> <<option "tawny">> <<option "porcelain">> <<option "olive">> <<option "beige">> <<option "tan">> <<option "rosy">> <<option "bronze">> <<option "umber">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> skin still faintly wet as you hurriedly dry off as you contemplate <<nobr>> how to style your <<cycle "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "strawberry blonde">> <<option "golden blonde">> <<option "mousy brown">> <<option "chestnut brown">> <<option "auburn">> <<option "ginger">> <<option "dark red">> <<option "jet black">> <<option "silver">> <<option "white">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> hair. You end up settling on your normal hairstyle for the evening as you don’t have much time to experiment. <<nobr>>Your <<cycle "$eyecolour" autoselect>> <<option "light brown">> <<option "dark brown">> <<option "light blue">> <<option "dark blue">> <<option "hazel">> <<option "amber">> <<option "grey">> <<option "light green">> <<option "dark green">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> eyes run over your hair, looking for any imperfections, before you walk over to your outfit. Pulling the zip down you reveal it and you take a moment to admire the workmanship. Your parents really went all out for the ceremony. You quickly put on the: <fieldset>\ [[•Dress pants, freshly ironed white dress shirt and oxfords.|Dressed and leave]] [[•Fancy dress with heels|Dressed and leave]] [[•Blazer, button up shirt and pants|Dressed and leave]] [[•Blouse and skirt with pumps|Dressed and leave]] [[•Jersey, chinos and loafers|Dressed and leave]] [[•Traditional long gown with embellished beadwork|Dressed and leave]] [[•Dashiki with black pants|Dressed and leave]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nohaircolour to false>>\ <<set $yeshaircolour to true>>\ <<set $noeyecolour to false>>\ <<set $yeseyecolour to true>>\ <<set $noskincolour to false>>\ <<set $yesskincolour to true>>\ <<set $nobodytype to false>>\ <<set $yesbodytype to true>>\

Dressed you quickly climb down the ladder and rush to the community hall. In your haste you collide with a figure that comes running out of the caravan near your own. The figure is a young man with wide shoulders, the makings of a broad chest and lean arms and legs. His skin is a sepia colour, a deep reddish brown like that of mahogany. His black, thick hair is styled into short twists that are swept to the left and sides that taper into a fade. The baby fat just started to leave his face and is slowly revealing more chiseled features. “I’m so sorry!” His hands immediately clamp down on your shoulders, preventing you from falling after running head first into his very solid form. His face is twisted in concern and you hear a tinge of panic in his deep, rich voice. “Are you okay? I really didn't mean to run into you, I was in a rush and I wasn’t looking-” His words are stumbling over each other as he rushes to explain himself and there is a break in his voice that he tries to cover with a cough. Now that you are no longer winded by the abrupt meeting you are able to focus and recognise the young man as Theodore Gumede, often called Theo by those in the commune. He is the only son of the Heads of Agriculture, important members of the council. His fathers’ often work alongside your own parents so you have grown up with him in a way; neighbors and always at each other's homes for dinner while your parents discussed business. <fieldset>\ [[• You are best friends.]] [[• You are friends.]] [[• You are acquaintances.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $haveMetTheo to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Theo added<</notify>>\

“Theo, you are going to go fully grey before your dads if you keep this up,” your tone is teasing as you pat his chest with your hand, breaking him from his rant. He hunches over and you see his hands fidgeting with the corner of his dashiki. “Sorry, it's just-” you watch as his eyebrows furrow and a frown appears, “I have been struggling to adjust to my body ever since my growth spurt hit.” You see the trust in his eyes as he opens up, “The pain has been pretty bad recently and the lack of sleep certainly doesn’t help with my newfound lack of coordination.” His tone is self-deprecating and his smile weak. As a child, Theo was always on the smaller side. He was easily pushed around by the other kids while playing in the fields but overnight he shot up. As soon as he hit seventeen he started to grow like a weed. In the span of a few months he grew over a foot and as far as you can tell, he is still growing. His work on the farmlands also quickly helped him pack on muscle. A lot of people noticed his sudden shift and he has yet to adapt to the attention. “Hey, you don’t need to apologise for anything. I understand, you don’t need to be strong in front of me.” You reassure him with a bright smile and he shyly nods, a real smile replacing his previous weak attempt. You place your hand on his back and give him a gentle nudge forward. “With that out of the way, let's head to the community hall together. I don’t want to be late by myself.” His laugh is low and rich as he quickly follows your own hurried footsteps. The two of you have walked this path many times together. Theo is your childhood friend and the commune often joked that you and Theo were joined at the hip as you were never seen apart. Your friendship is special, having bonded over your parents’ position in the commune. Only Theo was really able to understand the pressure and loneliness that came with being the only child of a council member. People always expected you to follow in their footsteps, to take up the position once you came of age. They didn’t know the loneliness of having to share your family with the entire commune, that their time was never truly yours as there was always something that needed their attention. But that burden became easier to bear when you shared it with Theo. You playfully bump into him, trying to catch him off balance. <fieldset>\ [[• Your heart stutters as his fingers brush over your wrist. You have a crush on Theo.]] [[• Strange, you just felt a weird sensation in your chest after his fingers brush over your wrist]] [[• You grin as you enjoy the friendly game you have started, dodging his shoulder.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $theobestfriend to true>>

“Hey, I’m not hurt. Don’t worry about it.” You smile and gesture to your body which has no visible damage, trying your best to reassure him. He hunches over and you see his hands fidgeting with the corner of his dashiki. “Sorry,” you watch as his eyebrows furrow, “I- I’ve been a little clumsy lately.” He seems like he wants to say more but he purses his lips. As a child, Theo was always on the smaller side. He was easily pushed around by the other kids while playing in the fields but overnight he shot up. As soon as he hit seventeen he started to grow like a weed. In the span of a few months he grew over a foot and as far as you can tell, he is still growing. His work on the farmlands also quickly helped him pack on muscle. A lot of people noticed his sudden shift and he has yet to adapt to the attention. “Come on, you know you can always trust me to give it to you straight. If I say I’m okay, I’m okay.” You reassure him with a bright smile and he shyly nods, his own small smile replacing his previous pursed lips. You place your hand on his back and give him a gentle nudge forward. “With that out of the way, let's head to the community hall together. I don’t want to be late by myself.” His laugh is low and rich as he quickly follows your own hurried footsteps. Theo has always been a good friend to you. Although the two of you don’t share many overlapping interests and hobbies, you were drawn together by an understanding of what it was like to be the only child of a council member and what that entails. People always expected you to follow in their footsteps, to take up the position once you came of age. They didn’t know the loneliness of having to share your family with the entire commune, that their time was never truly yours as there was always something that needed their attention. But that burden became easier to bear when you shared it with Theo. You playfully bump into him, trying to catch him off balance. <fieldset>\ [[• Your heart stutters as his fingers brush over your wrist. You have a crush on Theo.|crush friend version]] [[• Strange, you just felt a weird sensation in your chest after his fingers brush over your wrist|strange friend version]] [[• You grin as you enjoy the small game you have started, dodging his shoulder.|dodge friend version]] </fieldset>\ <<set $theofriend to true>>

“It’s okay, no harm was done.” Your tone is polite and you give him a small smile to reassure him. He hunches over and you see his hands fidgeting with the corner of his dashiki. “Sorry,” you watch as his eyebrows furrow, “I’ll be more careful in the future.” He seems like he wants to say more but he purses his lips. As a child, Theo was always on the smaller side. He was easily pushed around by the other kids while playing in the fields but overnight he shot up. As soon as he hit seventeen he started to grow like a weed. In the span of a few months he grew over a foot and as far as you can tell, he is still growing. His work on the farmlands also quickly helped him pack on muscle. A lot of people noticed his sudden shift and he has yet to adapt to the attention. You nod and the two of you continue your journey to the community hall. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Theo’s hands fisting the bottom of his dashiki, creasing the material. “Are you nervous about tonight?” You choose a safe topic to distract Theo from messing with his clothes any further. He startles a bit, not expecting you to strike up a conversation. “A little bit. My fathers are getting old, I worry that they will push themselves while I am away.” Your mind goes to your own parents. While Theo and you never really struck up a friendship there is common ground in the both of you being the only child to council members. People always expected you to follow in their footsteps, to take up the position once you came of age. They didn’t know the loneliness of having to share your family with the entire commune, that their time was never truly yours as there was always something that needed their attention. However, you could always trust Theo to understand and share knowing looks across the dinner table. “I’m sure they will allow us to contact our parents while we are away. I’m sure they will worry about us just as much as we worry about them,” you offer a reassuring smile. Theo seems to take your words to heart and smiles back, displaying two deep dimples on his cheeks. “Yeah, you’re right” The rest of the journey is spent in comfortable silence. [[The community hall is within view]] <<set $theoacquaintance to true>>

You drop your shoulder and step into Theo’s side, pressing your weight into him. You watch with a wide smile as he stumbles, not expecting the sudden bump. His hand reaches out to grab your hand to stabilise himself and you feel your heart stutter as his fingers brush over your wrist before latching onto your hand. His hand is warm and your eyes can’t help but drop to your joined hands. “Are we even now?” Two deep dimples appear on his cheeks as he laughs. He hasn’t released your hand and the warmth of his hand seems to be traveling up to your chest. Your hand subconsciously raises to check your heart, eyebrows furrowing as you feel the frantic beating under your palm. “Hey, is everything okay?” Theo tugs at your hand, snapping you from your daze. You feel the air grow warmer as he draws closer, his face close enough for you to see the wisps of hair beginning to appear on his chin. Your hand instantly comes up and pushes at his face, you watch as his eyebrows raise and his mouth goes crooked under your sudden shove. “Yes!” Your ears feel hot as you quickly pull your hand back, a passing thought of the softness of his face shoved to the depths of your mind as quickly as it was formed. “I think I scared myself when I pushed you,” You laugh, “I thought you really were going to fall for a second.” You nod along with your own words. It all makes sense now, why else would your heart start to race like that? Theo raises an eyebrow, looking unconvinced but before he can question your response he is cut off by a woman’s voice. “Should have expected the two of you to be late together.” A woman with short, black hair stands at the double door entrance of the community hall, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “If you are done acting out one of those teen holovids, you should hurry in,” her voice is teasing. You watch as Theo’s shoulders climb up, almost covering his ears, and his hands move to hide his burning face. “We- it- I just-” Theo is saved from his frantic explanation by his fathers, the two men waving him over. Seizing the escape, Theo flashes you an apologetic smile before rushing over, his large form easily cutting through the crowd. A snort leaves the woman, shaking her head in amusement, “He’s a sweet one that boy. Easy to tease.” <fieldset>\ [[• “He is a great guy”]] [[• Try to escape before you are teased next|strange version]] </fieldset>\ <<set $theoromanceflag +=1>> <<set $theorelationship +=5>>\ <<set $theo_obliviouscrush to true>>\

You drop your shoulder and step into Theo’s side, pressing your weight into him. You watch with a wide smile as he stumbles, not expecting the sudden bump. His hand reaches out to grab your hand to stabilise himself but you sidestep and chuckle as he just barely manages to right himself at the last second. His arms pinwheel as he staggers, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “$name! Is this your revenge for earlier?” Two deep dimples appear on his cheeks as he laughs. “Maybe,” your own laughter joining his as things rapidly devolve into a game between the two of you. Feet are constantly placed in each other’s path and you have to jump over or sidestep attempts at tripping the other. The tension of the day falls away as you allow yourself to be a child again. “Should have expected the two of you to be late together.” A woman with short, black hair stands at the double door entrance of the community hall, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Playing games while running late for an important ceremony. You guys really never change,” her voice is teasing. You both smile sheepishly at her while she shakes her head and chuckles. “Better get in there before your parents give you an earful.” You both give your thanks before rushing through the crowd. Theo finds his fathers first, his newfound height allowing him to easily find them. He gives you a quick, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before moving to stand by them. It is not too long before you spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]] <<set $theorelationship +=5>>

“One of the sweetest people I know, a real gentle giant.” There is fondness in your voice as you reply, watching Theo talk to his fathers. He speaks with his entire body, gesturing with his arms and hands passionately. Subconsciously you close the hand that was once held by Theo, trying to keep the warmth from his hand from escaping. Your eyes are pulled away from Theo by the sudden nudge on the small of your back. The woman shakes her head with a mock look of disgust, “Alright, no need to show off. The council wants to start and you need to get into position.” You flash an embarrassed yet proud smile before entering the crowd, slowly fighting your way to the front to stand next to your parents. The woman’s words echo in your mind as you weave through the bodies. There has been an undercurrent to Theo and your bond recently, something you both have left unspoken out of fear of ruining your friendship. At times you think the feeling will overwhelm you and bubble out but the imminent threat of the draft separating you has successfully kept it sealed away. A change, no matter where it may lead to, would be unwise before you are potentially separated for the next six years. Shaking your head to clear those thoughts away you force yourself to focus on the present. You spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]]

Watching Theo retreat you quickly follow suit, not wanting to be the next target. While the woman is distracted laughing at Theo and his awkward jog you dart into the crowd, seamlessly disappearing into the crowd. The last thing you hear before the crowd swallows you is her amused voice, “I guess they’re both shy.” The woman’s words echo in your mind as you weave through the bodies. There has been an undercurrent to Theo and your bond recently, something you both have left unspoken out of fear of ruining your friendship. At times you think the feeling will overwhelm you and bubble out but the imminent threat of the draft separating you has successfully kept it sealed away. A change, no matter where it may lead to, would be unwise before you are potentially separated for the next six years. Shaking your head to clear those thoughts away you force yourself to focus on the present. You spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]]

“Lovely to finally see you, $name,” Your father’s tone is dry yet his calm expression never wavers as he intently focuses on the stage where three Elders stand. The Elders are dressed in long white gowns that have brightly coloured beads sewn around the sleeve cuffs and around the hem. The beads create a beautiful pattern against the white material. The Elders carefully paint broad strokes of some kind of white pigment across each other’s eyes. Their cloaks made of animal hide swaying as they bow before the paint is applied and their hands are careful to avoid the beaded head-rings each of them wear. Rhythmic beating of drums fill the air as the paint is applied. Several men with nothing but animal hide covering their lower body and a crescent moon painted on their chest steadily beat the small cowhide drums with their hands. The lights are extinguished in the hall and you hear a low rumble as the roof slowly splits. As the roof recedes, the moon appears, shining her bright light upon the stage and illuminating the Elders. The moonlight causes the white gowns of the Elders to shimmer, silver stars appear to dance along the Elders’ bodies as they start to sway under the moonlight. It starts as simply swaying, their arms raised above their heads and palms stretched out to the moon, bodies moving from side to side gently. But soon their legs raise and slam down onto the stage, their feet joining the drums, the beating of their feet in perfect time. Their bodies twist and move around the stage, arms moving like waves crashing against the shore and feet keeping in rhythm with the drums. The raspy voices of the Elders rise and fall, their prayers sung to the night sky. Soon the low, harmonious voices of the men join in, making the air tremble with the might of their voices. [[Your parents’ voices join the prayer]]

“He’s a great guy, I am lucky to have a friend like him.” You grin as you reply, watching Theo talk to his fathers. He speaks with his entire body, gesturing with his arms and hands passionately. You miss the woman muttering “poor guy” under her breath and only have your attention drawn back when she suddenly nudges your back. “Alright enough dawdling, you need to get going. The council wants to start.” You flash an embarrassed smile before entering the crowd, slowly fighting your way to the front to stand next to your parents. You spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]]

Watching Theo retreat you quickly follow suit, not wanting to be the next target. While the woman is distracted laughing at Theo and his awkward jog you dart into the crowd, seamlessly disappearing into the crowd. The last thing you hear before the crowd swallows you is her amused voice, “I hope they figure it out one day.” The woman’s words echo in your mind as you weave through the bodies. You can’t help but ponder her words as you weave through the crowd, apologising as you fight to get to the front. What did she mean? Is she talking about the possibility of your friendship with Theo growing distant because of the draft and being separated? You worry your lower lip as you feel a sudden jolt of pain at the thought of no longer having Theo in your life. Shaking your head to clear those thoughts away you force yourself to focus on the present. You spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]]

You drop your shoulder and step into Theo’s side, pressing your weight into him. You watch with a wide smile as he stumbles, not expecting the sudden bump. His hand reaches out to grab your hand to stabilise himself and you feel your heart stutter as his fingers brush over your wrist before latching onto your hand. His hand is warm and your eyes can’t help but drop to your joined hands. “Are we even now?” Two deep dimples appear on his cheeks as he laughs. He hasn’t released your hand and the warmth of his hand seems to be traveling up to your chest. Your hand subconsciously raises to check your heart, eyebrows furrowing as you feel the frantic beating under your palm. “Hey, is everything okay?” Theo tugs at your hand, snapping you from your daze. You feel the air grow warmer as he draws closer, his face close enough for you to see the wisps of hair beginning to appear on his chin. Your hand instantly comes up and pushes at his face, you watch as his eyebrows raise and his mouth goes crooked under your sudden shove. “Yes!” Your ears feel hot as you quickly pull your hand back, a passing thought of the softness of his face shoved to the depths of your mind as quickly as it was formed. “I think I scared myself when I pushed you,” You laugh, “I thought you really were going to fall for a second.” You nod along with your own words. It all makes sense now, why else would your heart start to race like that? Theo raises an eyebrow, looking unconvinced but before he can question your response he is cut off by a woman’s voice. “Lost track of time?” A woman with short, black hair stands at the double door entrance of the community hall, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “If you are done acting out one of those teen holovids, you should hurry in,” her voice is teasing. You watch as Theo’s shoulders climb up, almost covering his ears, and his hands move to hide his burning face. “We- it- I just-” Theo is saved from his frantic explanation by his fathers, the two men waving him over. Seizing the escape, Theo flashes you an apologetic smile before rushing over, his large form easily cutting through the crowd. A snort leaves the woman, shaking her head in amusement, “He’s a sweet one that boy. Easy to tease.” <fieldset>\ [[• “He is a great guy”]] [[• Try to escape before you are teased next]] </fieldset>\ <<set $theoromanceflag +=1>> <<set $theorelationship +=5>> <<set $theo_obliviouscrush to true>>\

You drop your shoulder and step into Theo’s side, pressing your weight into him. You watch with a wide smile as he stumbles, not expecting the sudden bump. His hand reaches out to grab your hand to stabilise himself but you sidestep and chuckle as he just barely manages to right himself at the last second. His arms pinwheel as he staggers, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “$name! Is this your revenge for earlier?” Two deep dimples appear on his cheeks as he laughs. “Maybe,” your own laughter joining his as things rapidly devolve into a game between the two of you. Feet are constantly placed in each other’s path and you have to jump over or sidestep attempts at tripping the other. The tension of the day falls away as you allow yourself to be a child again. “I’m sure your parents can’t wait to see you both.” A woman with short, black hair stands at the double door entrance of the community hall, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Playing games while running late for an important ceremony. You guys really never change,” her voice is teasing. You both smile sheepishly at her while she shakes her head and chuckles. “Better get in there before your parents give you an earful.” You both give your thanks before rushing through the crowd. Theo finds his fathers first, his newfound height allowing him to easily find them. He gives you a quick, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before moving to stand by them. It is not too long before you spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]] <<set $theorelationship +=5>>

The two of you quickly apologise to the woman at the entrance and dive into the crowd, weaving through the mass of bodies to find your parents. You can just about pick out Theo’s large frame easily navigating through the crowd, the sea parting before him while you struggle to squeeze through. Your conversation with Theo lingers in your thoughts as you move through the crowd. The draft is an opportunity to view a world outside of the commune, however, you are leaving behind the only life you have ever known and your parents. Much like Theo’s fathers, your parents are also workaholics. Will they be okay? You shake your head, focusing on reaching the front and your parents. It is not long before you spot the familiar $haircolour hair that you share with your father and squeeze yourself between your parents. This evening they are both wearing the burnt orange robes that mark them as the heads of the merchant guild and members of the council. There is a red sash around each of their waists and they are adorned with intricate beadwork necklaces that stop around the centre of their chests. [[Continue|Ceremony Begins]]

Next, the council members join the prayer, their voices answering the call of the Elders and men. For every line sung by them, the council members sing back their response, their colourful robes allowing them to stand out amongst the crowd. You parents sing with wide smiles, their voices seamlessly harmonising with the other council members. You feel the hands of your parents on your shoulders, your mother’s hand on your left and your father’s hand on your right. The song is familiar to all those who live in the commune as it has always been sung before a large group departs. Before, the song was only sung for the hunters and gatherers who sought to provide for the commune. However, as time passed it was sung for our merchants and security force and now for the youth, those forced to join the military for their compulsory six years of service. At first communes would try to resist, Wastelanders were never under the control of the government, but as the military’s power grew so did the restrictions on Wastelanders. Sanctions were forced onto communes and they became targets. Trade deals would fall through, land would be seized, travel was almost impossible and medicine was scarce. Eventually the commune leaders across the Wasteland had to gather and submit to the government. The prayer grows in fervor as the entire commune joins in at the apex, arms raised towards the moon as voices grow ever stronger in order to echo throughout the night sky. The hall reverberates and you feel the drums and pounding of feet in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Theo, his eyes closed and his baritone voice adding depth to the harmonies. <<if $echo is true>> Your own voice soars out into the night sky, the words sung out clearly and with passion as you call upon the All Mother and All Father to watch over you and all those who embark on this journey. The hands on your shoulders move to become a side hug, your mother and father cocooning you in a gentle embrace, their bodies warm against your arms. Your voices mix and ring out until the last note fades away into the night.<<elseif $hesitate is true>>Your lips purse as you watch all those around you sing, voices rising and falling together. The commune claps along with the drums and you feel your own parents move their hands from your shoulders to your back to tap out the beat. Your voice is soft as you join in, barely heard in the last note that fades into the night.<<elseif $staysilent is true>>Your arms are crossed over your chest and your mouth remains firmly shut. The voices rise and fall around you, the harmonies reverberating around the hall but you remain unmoved. You feel your right shoulder squeezed by your father’s hand, out of the corner of your eye you see a deep scowl on his face. However, from start to finish your voice does not join the commune.<</if>> [[The crowd slowly disperses out of the hall]]

With the prayer finished, the commune slowly moves out of the hall towards the courtyard where a bonfire has been lit. It spits embers and smoke into the night sky, the fire illuminating the people around it, hues of red and orange splayed across their faces and their eyes reflecting the dancing flames. Families start to lay out blankets and bring out baskets, food shared with all those around them. For the families that will send off their children soon, the mood is somber. Parents embrace their children and fuss over them, whispering advice and enjoying what little time they have left with them. Your eyes move across the crowd, watching all the children saying their laugh and pretend to be embarrassed, before settling on Theo and his fathers. You watch as his large frame engulfs his fathers, pulling them into a tight hug that practically lifts them off their feet. “$name, your mother and I have something for you.” Your attention shifts from Theo and settles onto your own parents, their faces lined with exhaustion that they try to cover with a smile. They were away for business but rushed back in order to see be by your side for the ceremony. They must have driven through the night and all of today to not miss you. The exhaustion has made them seem so much older and you feel a twinge in your chest at the thought of leaving them. “It is not much but we hope it will help you remember where you came from and those who love you dearly.” Your father’s hands tremble as he reaches into his robe and pulls out a small, black box. Carefully he opens the box and reveals a silver necklace with a moon and four stars forming the pendant at the end. Your mother lifts the necklace from the box and gently places the necklace around your neck. The silver is cool against your neck and your fingers brush against the pendant, finding a small clasp. With a soft click, you carefully open the pendant and inside you find a picture of yourself and your parents. The picture is from a year ago, your smile bright and your parents arms around you, their heads resting against yours. The opposite side of the pendant has been left blank. <fieldset>\ [[• Hug your parents, too emotional to speak]] [[• Hug your parents, thanking them]] [[• Thank your parents]] </fieldset>\ <<set $moonnecklace to true>>

A surge of emotions threaten to overwhelm you as you rush to hug your parents, your arms thrown around their necks as you pull them towards you. Your chest is tight with love, fear, gratitude and sadness as they war in your body as you struggle to process all your feelings. Warmth surrounds you as their arms come around you and you feel safe in their embrace. “The other side is left for you to fill in as you see fit.” “While we can’t help but worry about you, we do hope you use this as an opportunity to meet new people and learn about the world outside. I know you will use what you learn to make the commune better when you return.” Your mother’s forehead rests against your own, her eyes closed and hands on your cheeks. “Remember the All Mother and her teachings. Do not let them lead you astray.” Your father’s hand rests on the top of your head, his face stern. He wants to say more but his words are drowned out by the sudden ringing of the proximity alarm. The dome flickers before it shows the approaching helicopters cutting through the evening clouds. A swell of voices ripple across the commune as whispers start at the sight; you overhear some of the murmurs. “They’re early.” “This is against the agreement surely?” “The council needs to push back against this!” “How much longer are we going to abide by their law when they are ever changing it -” You watch as your father’s nostrils flare and the muscles around his jaw jump as he grinds his teeth. “Everyone, clear the area. Our //guests// have arrived early. We need to create a landing zone for them. Say your goodbyes and prepare your children.” His voice is frighteningly calm even as he projects his voice to be heard by all. It is like a switch. Your father is gone and now in his place is the diplomat of New Dawn. Your mother stays at your side, her hand clutching yours tightly, and her face carefully blank as she watches the dome slowly open to allow the two helicopters in. The whirring blades kick up the sand and you squint to see through the red mist. [[The helicopters land]]

You rush forward and throw your arms around their necks, bringing them into a tight embrace. “Thank you, it is beautiful. I will be sure to treasure it,” your voice is muffled as you bury yourself into the warm cocoon that is the embrace of your parents. You feel their own arms encircle you and two kisses are placed on either side of your head. “The other side is left for you to fill in as you see fit.” “While we can’t help but worry about you, we do hope you use this as an opportunity to meet new people and learn about the world outside. I know you will use what you learn to make the commune better when you return.” Your mother’s forehead rests against your own, her eyes closed and hands on your cheeks. “Remember the All Mother and her teachings. Do not let them lead you astray.” Your father’s hand rests on the top of your head, his face stern. He wants to say more but his words are drowned out by the sudden ringing of the proximity alarm. The dome flickers before it shows the approaching helicopters cutting through the evening clouds. A swell of voices ripple across the commune as whispers start at the sight; you overhear some of the murmurs. “They are early.” “This is against the agreement surely?” “The council needs to push back against this!” “How much longer are we going to abide by their law when they are ever changing it -” You watch as your father’s nostrils flare and the muscles around his jaw jump as he grinds his teeth. “Everyone, clear the area. Our //guests// have arrived early. We need to create a landing zone for them. Say your goodbyes and prepare your children.” His voice is frighteningly calm even as he projects his voice to be heard by all. It is like a switch. Your father is gone and now in his place is the diplomat of New Dawn. Your mother stays at your side, her hand clutching yours tightly, and her face carefully blank as she watches the dome slowly open to allow the two helicopters in. The whirring blades kick up the sand and you squint to see through the red mist. [[The helicopters land]]

Your fingers carefully trace the photo, a fond smile on your lips as you admire the family portrait. You look up and see your parents staring at you with soft and wistful expressions. “Thank you, I will always keep this by my side and safe.” Your hand closes around the pendant and you feel the cool metal press against the palm of your hand. “The other side is left for you to fill in as you see fit.” “While we can’t help but worry about you, we do hope you use this as an opportunity to meet new people and learn about the world outside. I know you will use what you learn to make the commune better when you return.” Your mother’s forehead rests against your own, her eyes closed and hands on your cheeks. “Remember the All Mother and her teachings. Do not let them lead you astray.” Your father’s hand rests on the top of your head, his face stern. He wants to say more but his words are drowned out by the sudden ringing of the proximity alarm. The dome flickers before it shows the approaching helicopters cutting through the evening clouds. A swell of voices ripple across the commune as whispers start at the sight; you overhear some of the murmurs. “They are early.” “This is against the agreement surely?” “The council needs to push back against this!” “How much longer are we going to abide by their law when they are ever changing it -” You watch as your father’s nostrils flare and the muscles around his jaw jump as he grinds his teeth. “Everyone, clear the area. Our //guests// have arrived early. We need to create a landing zone for them. Say your goodbyes and prepare your children.” His voice is frighteningly calm even as he projects his voice to be heard by all. It is like a switch. Your father is gone and now in his place is the diplomat of New Dawn. Your mother stays at your side, her hand clutching yours tightly, and her face carefully blank as she watches the dome slowly open to allow the two helicopters in. The whirring blades kick up the sand and you squint to see through the red mist. [[The helicopters land]]

A hush falls over the commune as the doors of the helicopters slide open with a loud bang. The sound of boots hitting the ground echo through the night as no one dares to say a word as soldiers exit the helicopter. Four fully armed soldiers stand in front of the helicopters, their faces covered by dark helmets and their guns pointed down as they stand like guard dogs, bodies tense and poised for the slightest hint of trouble. A man with slicked back dark blonde hair and dressed in his (ceremony military uniform) steps out last. He has a charming smile and he holds a holopad in his hand. “I am so sorry for arriving ahead of the agreed upon time. Our intel told us that a dust storm is expected to hit later in the week and we didn’t want to endanger your children and our personnel by attempting to navigate through it.” His posture is relaxed as if immune to the tense atmosphere. “Thank you for your considerate albeit strange actions. Were the communication channels down, Sergeant Krantz? Normally you would communicate your arrival.” Your father wears his own polite mask, his tone deceivingly calm. The soldiers shuffle closer to Sergeant Krantz as your father approaches him, the fire leaping across their visors. “The soon-to-appear dust storm is surely interfering with the towers.” Sergeant Krantz’s smile never wavers and you watch your father’s shoulders roll back and his spine straighten further, his height rising to be on par with the man before him. Your father responds in an impassive tone, “I’ll be sure to bring it up in the next meeting with the government. Clearly maintenance needs to be done if the towers are being affected so easily.” The smile slowly disappears from the Sergeant’s face and you can almost hear the creaking of the holopad as his fingers tighten around it. “You do that,” Sergeant Krantz then raises his voice as he continues, “in the meantime your children will be coming with me. When I call your name, you will go to the helicopter I put you towards.” <<if $theoromanceflag >=1>>[[Names are quickly rattled off|romantic goodbye theo]]<<elseif $theobestfriend is true>>[[Names are quickly rattled off|best friend goodbye theo]]<<elseif $theofriend is true>>[[Names are quickly rattled off|friend goodbye theo]]<<elseif $theoacquaintance is true>>[[Names are quickly rattled off]]<</if>>

Tears are shed and children are forced from the arms of their parents as the Sergeant quickly goes through the list of children that need to board. You watch as Theo is called and his large frame trembles as he walks away from his fathers, hands clenched at his side. His fathers’ stand with wet eyes, holding each other as they watch their son. He winds through the crowd, his steps slow and head bowed as he approaches the helicopter. His hand brushes against your own as he pushes past you to arrive at his allocated helicopter. You look down as you feel his fingers caress the back of your hand before sliding something into your hand as you instinctively try to hold his hand. Your hand immediately closes around it and your head shoots up, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. You see the tension drop from his shoulders as he throws one last look at you before he is forced out of view by the soldiers; his pursed lips and longing eyes etched into your mind. Your heart twinges as you look down and see a small, beautifully made bookmark in your hand. The bookmark was made with old parchment paper that has dried red carnations, pink camellias and gardenias pressed onto it with careful cursive written around the flower petals. You read the words and feel your chest tighten, //Trust in the All Mother that we will meet again and if not in her, than me. ==Forever yours==, Theo.// Part of the last sentence is struck through but you can still make out the words through the hasty line and a warmth fills you. “$surname, $name. Ah, your child is joining us this year I see.” Sergeant Krantz’s smile widens as his eyes connect with your father’s. Out of the corner of your eye you see cracks begin to form in your father’s impassive mask, his lips pursing and eyes narrowing. But your view is soon blocked by your mother’s embrace, you can feel her body trembling as she pulls you into a final, fierce hug. “Do not forget where you came from. Remember your people and the All Mother.” Her words are shaky and you can feel her tears wet your neck, “I love you. Please return back safe, $name.” When she releases you, your father stands at your side, quickly replacing her embrace with his own. His voice is hoarse and you feel his dry lips press against your forehead, “We will be waiting for your return. We will always love you and you have made us so proud.” <fieldset>\ [[• You think about how you do not want to leave your commune]] [[• You think about how you wish to see the world outside the commune]] [[• You are feeling conflicted. Unsure whether you wish to leave or stay.]] </fieldset>\

Tears are shed and children are forced from the arms of their parents as the Sergeant quickly goes through the list of children that need to board. You watch as Theo is called and his large frame trembles as he walks away from his fathers, hands clenched at his side. His fathers’ stand with wet eyes, holding each other as they watch their son. He winds through the crowd, his steps slow and head bowed as he approaches the helicopter. His arm brushes against your own as he pushes past you to arrive at his allocated helicopter. You instinctively look down as you feel his elbow push into your arm and you see his hand forcing something into your own. Your hand immediately closes around it and the exchange is complete. You see the tension drop from his shoulders as he throws one last look at you before he is forced out of view by the soldiers; his sorrowful eyes and brittle smile etched into your mind. You carefully look down and see a small, beautifully made bookmark in your hand. The bookmark was made with old parchment paper that had dried sunflowers, blue daisies and yellow roses pressed onto it with careful cursive written around the flower petals. You read the words and feel your chest tighten, //The All Mother will lead us back on the same path. Our journey together is not over. Your best friend, Theo.// “$surname, $name. Ah, your child is joining us this year I see.” Sergeant Krantz’s smile widens as his eyes connect with your father’s. Out of the corner of your eye you see cracks begin to form in your father’s impassive mask, his lips pursing and eyes narrowing. But your view is soon blocked by your mother’s embrace, you can feel her body trembling as she pulls you into a final, fierce hug. “Do not forget where you came from. Remember your people and the All Mother.” Her words are shaky and you can feel her tears wet your neck, “I love you. Please return back safe, $name.” When she releases you, your father stands at your side, quickly replacing her embrace with his own. His voice is hoarse and you feel his dry lips press against your forehead, “We will be waiting for your return. We will always love you and you have made us so proud.” <fieldset>\ [[• You think about how you do not want to leave your commune]] [[• You think about how you wish to see the world outside the commune]] [[• You are feeling conflicted. Unsure whether you wish to leave or stay.]] </fieldset>\

Tears are shed and children are forced from the arms of their parents as the Sergeant quickly goes through the list of children that need to board. You watch as Theo is called and his large frame trembles as he walks away from his fathers, hands clenched at his side. His fathers’ stand with wet eyes, holding each other as they watch their son. He winds through the crowd, his steps slow and head bowed as he approaches the helicopter. His arm brushes against your own as he pushes past you to arrive at his allocated helicopter. You instinctively look down as you feel his elbow push into your arm and you see his hand forcing something into your own. Your hand immediately closes around it and the exchange is complete. You see the tension drop from his shoulders as he throws one last look at you before he is forced out of view by the soldiers; his brittle smile and furrowed brows etched into your mind. You carefully look down and see a small, well crafted bookmark in your hand. The bookmark was made with old parchment paper that has dried yellow roses pressed onto it with Theo’s familiar handwriting around the flower petals. You read the words carefully, //May the All Mother watch over your journey. Your friend, Theo.// Your fingers curl gently around the bookmark, protecting the words. “$surname, $name. Ah, your child is joining us this year I see.” Sergeant Krantz’s smile widens as his eyes connect with your father’s. Out of the corner of your eye you see cracks begin to form in your father’s impassive mask, his lips pursing and eyes narrowing. But your view is soon blocked by your mother’s embrace, you can feel her body trembling as she pulls you into a final, fierce hug. “Do not forget where you came from. Remember your people and the All Mother.” Her words are shaky and you can feel her tears wet your neck, “I love you. Please return back safe, $name.” When she releases you, your father stands at your side, quickly replacing her embrace with his own. His voice is hoarse and you feel his dry lips press against your forehead, “We will be waiting for your return. We will always love you and you have made us so proud.” <fieldset>\ [[• You think about how you do not want to leave your commune]] [[• You think about how you wish to see the world outside the commune]] [[• You are feeling conflicted. Unsure whether you wish to leave or stay.]] </fieldset>\

Tears are shed and children are forced from the arms of their parents as the Sergeant quickly goes through the list of children that need to board. You watch as Theo is called and his large frame trembles as he walks away from his fathers, hands clenched at his side. His fathers’ stand with wet eyes, holding each other as they watch their son. He winds through the crowd, his steps slow and head bowed as he approaches the helicopter. You feel his hand fall on your shoulder briefly, squeezing it and giving you a brief nod. His shoulders are tense and his body has curled into itself, desperately trying to appear smaller as he passes the soldiers. As he boards the helicopter you watch as he turns back to look for his fathers, sorrow etched into his face as he hesitates at the door before being forced in. His large frame disappears into the helicopter and your eyes move back to Sergeant Krantz as he continues to call out names. Your mother’s hand shakes on your arm, her eyes never leaving the back of your father. “$surname, $name. Ah, your child is joining us this year I see.” Sergeant Krantz’s smile widens as his eyes connect with your father’s. Out of the corner of your eye you see cracks begin to form in your father’s impassive mask, his lips pursing and eyes narrowing. But your view is soon blocked by your mother’s embrace, you can feel her body trembling as she pulls you into a final, fierce hug. “Do not forget where you came from. Remember your people and the All Mother.” Her words are shaky and you can feel her tears wet your neck, “I love you. Please return back safe, $name.” When she releases you, your father stands at your side, quickly replacing her embrace with his own. His voice is hoarse and you feel his dry lips press against your forehead, “We will be waiting for your return. We will always love you and you have made us so proud.” <fieldset>\ [[• You think about how you do not want to leave your commune]] [[• You think about how you wish to see the world outside the commune]] [[• You are feeling conflicted. Unsure whether you wish to leave or stay.]] </fieldset>\

Your fingers dig into your father’s sides, wishing to anchor yourself at his side, wishing you could stay. Your throat is tight and you struggle to speak, to express your resentment at the military for forcing you to leave and your fear of heading into the unknown. Yet, your parents must see the emotions on your face as they smile as best they can and murmur reassurances, their hands patting the pendant hidden away. A silent reminder that they will always be with you. Their warmth is torn away by a single cough. Sergeant Krantz watches your family with a raised eyebrow, his smile pointed and eyes cold as he stares at your father. Your father’s nostrils flare once before he steps away, bringing your mother with him. “Please hurry along, we don’t wish to travel in a dust storm after all,” Sergeant Krantz speaks with a mirthful tone. You slowly walk away from your parents under the fiery gaze of Sergeant Krantz, your feet heavy and your eyes fixed on the helicopter before you. The helicopter with Theo has closed its doors and your helicopter is slowly filling up, you and three others the last to board. Fleetingly you wonder which academy Theo will go to before your mind focuses on your parents. You take your seat and you peer out the window, your mother has buried her face into your father’s chest and he stands stoically. He watches your helicopter, even as the dust is kicked up and you become airborne, his eyes never leave the aircraft. You watch as the commune grows smaller and smaller as the helicopter flies further away, hushed whispers and sniffles making up the background noise. Your eyes are drawn away from the window when a voice cuts through the air, the pilot’s voice reverberating through the comms. “We will be traveling to Buchholz Academy, ETA 4 hours. Please remain in your seats and have your seatbelts properly secured during the journey.” The voice disappears as quickly as it appeared. The memory starts to distort and you watch as the night sky through the window begins to shatter and the stars and moon are consumed by darkness. You try to move but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]]

Guilt wells up and you have to choke it back as you lean into your father’s embrace, trying to hide away the kernels of excitement threatening to burst inside. You lower your eyes and try to bury your thoughts of exploring a new world, seeing what lies beyond the commune, and meeting new people. Their warmth is torn away by a single cough and you can't help but feel relief as you separate from your parents and walk forward. You feel Sergeant Krantz’s eyes following your movements; a look of deep interest on his face. You bow your head and try to hide away from his gaze, yet you can still feel his eyes on you as you approach the helicopter. The helicopter with Theo has closed its doors and your helicopter is slowly filling up, you and three others the last to board. Fleetingly you wonder which academy Theo will go to before your mind focuses on your parents. You take your seat and you peer out the window, your mother has buried her face into your father’s chest and he stands stoically. He watches your helicopter, even as the dust is kicked up and you become airborne, his eyes never leave the aircraft. You watch as the commune grows smaller and smaller as the helicopter flies further away, hushed whispers and sniffles making up the background noise. You finally allow the excitement to unfurl as your commune disappears from sight. Your eyes are drawn away from the window when a voice cuts through the air, the pilot’s voice reverberating through the comms. “We will be traveling to Buchholz Academy, ETA 4 hours. Please remain in your seats and have your seatbelts properly secured during the journey.” The voice disappears as quickly as it appeared. The memory starts to distort and you watch as the night sky through the window begins to shatter and the stars and moon are consumed by darkness. You try to move but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]]

Your fingers dig into your father’s sides and your shoulders tremble as you struggle to speak, to express your resentment at the military for forcing you to leave yet yearning to see what lies beyond the commune. Your father gently cups your cheek and you raise your head, your eyes darting away from him as guilt claws at your mind. You hear him sigh and then you feel his hand pat the space where your pendant is hidden. “You will never disappoint us. All we wish for is your safety and happiness, no matter what path that may lead you on.” Your chest grows tight and you throw yourself back into the arms of your parents, eyes wet. However, their warmth is soon torn away by a single cough. Sergeant Krantz watches your family with a raised eyebrow, his smile pointed and eyes cold as he stares at your father. Your father’s nostrils flare once before he steps away, bringing your mother with him. “Please hurry along, we don’t wish to travel in a dust storm after all,” Sergeant Krantz speaks with a mirthful tone. You slowly walk away from your parents under the fiery gaze of Sergeant Krantz, your feet heavy and your eyes fixed on the helicopter before you. The helicopter with Theo has closed its doors and your helicopter is slowly filling up, you and three others the last to board. Fleetingly you wonder which academy Theo will go to before your mind focuses on your parents. You take your seat and you peer out the window, your mother has buried her face into your father’s chest and he stands stoically. He watches your helicopter, even as the dust is kicked up and you become airborne, his eyes never leave the aircraft. You watch as the commune grows smaller and smaller as the helicopter flies further away, hushed whispers and sniffles making up the background noise. Your eyes are drawn away from the window when a voice cuts through the air, the pilot’s voice reverberating through the comms. “We will be traveling to Buchholz Academy, ETA 4 hours. Please remain in your seats and have your seatbelts properly secured during the journey.” The voice disappears as quickly as it appeared. The memory starts to distort and you watch as the night sky through the window begins to shatter and the stars and moon are consumed by darkness. You try to move but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]]

Your legs dangle over the edge of a collapsed building, heels knocking gently onto the wall in a staccato rhythm, fingers tapping along the faded red brick. The gentle thudding is all you can hear, the landscape eerily devoid of movement or life. It is strange; normally around this time scavengers could be spotted darting around the abandoned streets, picking through the old buildings. Squatters would rattle past, pushing their trolleys filled with materials and their toolboxes, looking for their next shelter. The first year after the attack, no one dared to enter Blackrock, the attack still fresh in everyone’s mind and the exilliums still causing havoc, but as they were cleared out by the Soulforge squadrons and new walls replaced the ones destroyed from the attack, more and people slowly made their way back. The military tried to stop the migration, citing it was too dangerous with the ichor pits present and the buildings beyond repair, but people are stubborn. They run from the patrols that try to send them back to the other districts and still scavenge to find lost luxuries and materials that could feed them; the old mining district will never truly be empty. You’ll never forget the first time you were brought to the abandoned district. A group of older kids at the orphanage woke you and a few others up in the middle of the night, gathering you for what they called a field trip. You were eight and scared but then a kid grabbed your hand and with a smile that had two front teeth missing told you that it was going to be okay. <fieldset>\ [[• She was tiny, fiercely protective and became your best friend that day|Next Passage][$s_heshe to "she", $s_himher to "her", $s_hisher to "her", $s_hishers to "hers" , $s_himself to "herself" , $s_HeShe to "She", $s_HimHer to "Her", $s_HisHer to "Her", $s_HisHers to "Hers", $s_Himself to "Herself" , $s_person to "woman" ]] [[• He was tiny, fiercely protective and became your best friend that day|Next Passage][$s_heshe to "he", $s_himher to "him", $s_hisher to "his", $s_hishers to "his" , $s_himself to "himself" , $s_HeShe to "He", $s_HimHer to "Him", $s_HisHer to "His", $s_HisHers to "His", $s_Himself to "Himself" , $s_person to "man" ]] [[• They were tiny, fiercely protective and became your best friend that day|Next Passage][$s_heshe to "they", $s_himher to "them", $s_hisher to "their", $s_hishers to "theirs" , $s_himself to "themself" , $s_HeShe to "They", $s_HimHer to "Them", $s_HisHer to "Their", $s_HisHers to "Theirs", $s_Himself to "Themself" , $s_person to "person"]] </fieldset>\

That night, you met your best friend, Spencer. $s_HeShe quickly became your fiercest protector and never left your side even when $s_heshe could barely keep up, only coming up to your shoulder in height at the time. The two of you walked hand-in-hand through the quiet and broken streets, helping each other climb across the collapsed buildings and shared a small torch that you used to guide your way through the sewer system. Awe filled both your eyes when you found yourselves climbing through a drain storm cover and arriving at a night market, a space carved out by the old Blackrock inhabitants in the desolate district. Lanterns were strung up between bent light poles and stalls and tables proudly stood amongst the rubble and debris. The streets were cleared up to allow people to walk freely, bartering and laughter filling the night air as people sold food and relics of the past. The older children told you to enjoy yourself and that they will take you back to the orphanage in two hours. For the first time since your parents died, you felt excitement. Your hand was tugged vigorously by Spencer, $s_hisher finger pointing towards the stalls that seemed to be running carnival-like games. “What should we play?” $s_HeShe said with a faint lisp, $s_hisher eyes curved as $s_heshe smiled. <fieldset>\ [[• Try your hand at the ring toss, the faded pink elephant plushie prize catching your eye]] [[• Attempt the high striker game, the lopsided blue dog plushie prize catching your eye]] </fieldset>\

You drag Spencer towards the ring toss game, a man with black hair and eerily blue eyes stands behind the rickety table, and six red flaking rings were on the table. A few feet away were old milk bottles standing on wooden crates and a semi-stocked shelf of possible prizes. There were dented beer cans, holo-books and amongst the old plushies was the faded pink elephant that caught your eye. “What we have here then?” The man says, squinting down at Spencer and you, he kneels to get a better look and you see his eyes whirl and stutter as the iris seems to expand and shrink rapidly. He hits the side of his head once with his palm and you see the iris return to normal, his blue eyes losing their intensity. “Maybe the bottle is talking but I’m pretty sure I’ve never had clients this small before,” his voice carries a light-hearted tone and his crooked smile puts you at ease. “We snuck away!” Spencer says with a puffed out chest, a proud smile on $s_hisher face and the man lets loose a loud guffaw in reply, “I’ll let you play once, for your bravery, but then you gotta run back to your parents, ya hear? Don’t let ‘em panic too much.” You both nod your heads vigorously and the man chuckles again before moving back behind the table to pull out two smaller wooden crates. “The names Jonesy and I’ll be your game operator tonight. Rules real simple, throw ‘em rings onto the milk bottles. You get four rings to land, you get a prize. Understand?” With the rules explained you and Spencer scamper onto the wooden crates, red rings in hand. The paint flakes onto your hand and they are heavier than they look. [[Carefully throw each ring]] <<set $pinkelephant to true>>

You drag Spencer towards the high striker game where a woman leaning against a hammer is calling out to passersby, “Come and test your strength!” Most people barely toss her a second look but you are enraptured by the tall tower. There are crudely drawn exilliums at different heights on the tower and the final exillium is drawn as knocked out on the rusty bell at the top of the tower. The woman has dark red, almost brown, hair and brown eyes. The arm leaning against the hammer is mechanical and you can see the slow spinning of cogs on its side. “Well well, what do I have here? Do you believe you’re strong enough to take on the Blackrock Tower?” She asks bemused. Behind her stood a semi-stocked shelf of possible prizes in her stall, barely visible from behind the tower. There were dented beer cans, holo-books and amongst the old plushies was the lopsided blue dog that caught your eye. “Yes!” You and Spencer cry out, excited smiles on your faces. She lets out a hearty laugh, shaking her finger at the pair, “As much as I would love to see that, I need the permission of your parents first. This game is not really for kids.” Your smile drops and you feel Spencer squeeze your hand, “What if we don’t have any parents?” Spencer asks, voice small. The woman’s smile freezes and you watch her mouth open and close as she tries to speak. Her hand comes up to her face and after running her hand across it her smile returns, gentler than before. “Well I guess that just means I’ll have to be your guardian for the game. Is that okay?” You both nod vigorously and are ushered towards the tower. “My name is Mel and I’ll be your game operator, and guardian,” she gives a cheeky wink, “for the evening. The game is pretty simple, hit the target with the hammer as hard as you can and try to send the weight to the top to ring the bell and win a prize!” She hands the hammer to you and you nearly fall under the weight, only barely staying on your feet thanks to the efforts of Spencer and Mel. “Okay, new idea.” [[Mel helps you and Spencer to hold the hammer]] <<set $bluedog to true>>

Spencer stands atop the wooden crate next to you with $s_hisher tongue peeking out from $s_hisher tightly pursed lips, eyes focused forward and left eye closed. $s_HisHer mouth moves silently as $s_heshe takes aim. After a few practised motions the first ring flies forward and you watch with bated breath to see if it lands true. It soars in the air and hits the front milk bottle with a loud clang, falling just short. “Argh, I almost had it!” “Don’t worry, you’ll get the next one,” you say confidently. Spencer pumps $s_hisher fist and then focuses once again. Turning to your own rings you carefully rotate the ring in your hand, feeling the weight. You copy Spencer and do a few practice swings before throwing your first ring, the metal wobbling in the air as it travels far enough but goes wide. One ring after the other you throw, cheering each time your ring finally falls around a milk bottle, and booing alongside Spencer when you overshoot the milk bottles. In the end you only manage to land two milk bottles and you feel your shoulders slump in defeat. Spencer is in the same position, missing the mark by just one ring. “You know what? If you’re willing to share, you can pick out a prize between the two of you. Your rings together are enough after all!” “Really, Jonesy?” Your voice is small as you look up at the man, Spencer holding your hand and practically vibrating with excitement next to you. “Really. So what’ll be, kids?” Spencer yells out without any hesitation, “The pink elephant!” Then after a beat, “Please!” “Are you sure? Do you not want to look at the other stuff?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed at the immediate response. “I saw you looking at it earlier, you want it right?” Your mouth hangs open, surprised by $s_hisher response. “Yeah… but don’t you want anything?” $s_HeShe shakes $s_hisher head, “I like it too! Besides, our beds are next to each other back at the orphanage, it’ll be easy to share.” [[Jonesy collects your pink elephant off the shelf and you see him reach for something else too]]

A flash of sadness passes his face but it is quickly covered up by a smile as he hands over the faded pink elephant to you and then places a grey mouse plushie in Spencer’s hands. “Couldn’t help but overhear your clever thinking, I think that deserves its own prize.” Spencer’s eyes widened, looking at the grey mouse plushie with wonder, stroking its haggard fur. “Thank you, Jonesy!” The two of you shout in glee, hugging your plushies to your chests before sprinting away, eager to play other games and see what the other stalls and tables had to offer. That evening was a beacon of light in your first year at the orphanage, a memory you would often visit when things were difficult, chasing away the shadows of your grief. You are pulled out of your reverie by a familiar voice, “Is there a reason you’re out here all by yourself, $name?” You startle, the back of your boots scrapping harshly against the red brick wall as you feel yourself jump. Behind you stands Spencer, an unlit cigarette dangling from $s_hisher mouth, and $s_hisher hands buried deep into $s_hisher overly large coat. <<if $s_person is "woman">>Her black hair that is haphazardly tied up into a messy bun bounces atop her head as she hops from foot to foot, trying to keep her lanky 5’5” frame warm, as she makes her way to you. She drops unceremoniously next to you, slumping against your side. Her hazel eyes gleam with mischief as she snuggles into you, forcing her cold, tan hands against you.<<elseif $s_person is "man">>His choppy, shoulder length hair falls over his eyes as he hops from foot to foot, trying to keep his lanky 5’7” frame warm, as he makes his way to you. He drops unceremoniously next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into a hug. His hazel eyes gleam with mischief as he rubs his cheek into the side of your face, forcing his cold, tan cheek and nose against you.<<elseif $s_person is "person">>Their black hair is tied back into a low ponytail that swings rapidly as they hop from foot to foot, messy bangs falling over their eyes, as they try to keep their 5’6” lanky frame warm. Slowly they make their way to you and drop unceremoniously next to you, slumping against your side. Their hazel eyes gleam with mischief as they grab your arm, snuggling into it, their cold, tan hands gripping your arm tightly.<</if>> <fieldset>\ [[• Return the affection]] [[• Playfully push Spencer away]] [[• Stiffen from the sudden contact]] </fieldset>\

<<if $s_person is "woman">>“By the Old Gods! Your hands are freezing, what have you been doing?” You yelp as Spencer’s hands leech the heat from your body, but instead of pushing her away you draw her closer. Cupping her hands between your own, you rub them gently, trying to warm them up. Spencer hums happily, pressing herself closer.<<elseif $s_person is "male">>“By the Old Gods! Your face is freezing, what have you been doing?” You yelp as Spencer’s nose and cheek leech the heat from your body, but instead of pushing him away you draw him closer. Pressing your face against his, trying to warm him up. Spencer hums happily, pressing himself closer.<<elseif $s_person is "person">>“By the Old Gods! Your hands are freezing, what have you been doing?” You yelp as Spencer’s hands leech the heat from your arm, but instead of pushing them away you draw them closer. Rubbing your hands up and down their arms and then holding their hands between your own, trying to warm them up. Spencer hums happily, pressing themself closer.<</if>> “Well maybe if my best friend didn’t decide to hang out in the damn cold I would be nice and warm,” Spencer quips, $s_hisher unlit cigarette making $s_himher mumble as $s_heshe struggles to talk around it. “Are you going to light that cigarette or chew it?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and amused tone. “I wanted to steal some warmth first.” Spencer pulls away and stands a few steps to the side of you, in the downwind, then lights up $s_hisher cigarette. $s_HisHer eyes close as $s_heshe takes a slow drag, ash dropping to the floor and the smoke curling around Spencer’s face, $s_heshe looks peaceful. You watch $s_himher silently, not wanting to disturb the tranquil image. Eventually the cigarette burns down and Spencer returns to sit next to you, $s_hisher eyes looking over the landscape like you were doing previously. Another train rattles past, whipping the air around you and causing Spencer to burrow further into $s_hisher coat. “So, you never answered my question. Why are you out here?” [[“We get drafted in two weeks.”]]

<<if $s_person is "woman">>“By the Old Gods! Your hands are freezing, what have you been doing?” You yelp as Spencer’s hands leech the heat from your body. You quickly push her away and she falls backwards with a loud laugh, her cigarette flying out her mouth as she tips over.<<elseif $s_person is "man">>“By the Old Gods! Your face is freezing, what have you been doing?” You yelp as Spencer’s nose and cheek leech the heat from your body. You quickly push him away and he falls backwards with a loud laugh, his cigarette flying out his mouth as he tips over.<<elseif $s_person is "person">>“By the Old Gods! Your hands are freezing, what have you been doing?” You yelp as Spencer’s hands leech the heat from your arm. You quickly push them away and they fall backwards with a loud laugh, their cigarette flying out their mouth as they tip over.<</if>> “I see how it is! This is the thanks I get for braving the cold for you,” Spencer quips, from the floor, a gleam in $s_hisher eyes. You look at Spencer warily, the look in $s_hisher eyes all too familiar, but you recognised the signs too late. “Whoa!” Air leaves your lungs as you are pulled back, your body slamming onto the floor next to Spencer. “Are we even?” You wheeze out, the red brick rough under your hands. Spencer nods as $s_heshe dusts $s_himself off, picking up $s_hisher slightly bent cigarette off the floor, before helping you onto your feet. You stumble into Spencer, shaking your head, “I never seem to have the upper hand with you.” “And don’t you forget it, $name.” Spencer pulls away and stands a few steps to the side of you, in the downwind, then lights up $s_hisher cigarette. $s_HisHer eyes close as $s_heshe takes a slow drag, ash dropping to the floor and the smoke curling around Spencer’s face, $s_heshe looks peaceful. You watch $s_himher silently, not wanting to disturb the tranquil image. Eventually the cigarette burns down and Spencer returns to sit next to you, $s_hisher eyes looking over the landscape like you were doing previously. Another train rattles past, whipping the air around you and causing Spencer to burrow further into $s_hisher coat. “So, you never answered my question. Why are you out here?” [[“We get drafted in two weeks.”]]

Your entire body grows tense as Spencer enters your personal space, the contact too sudden and overwhelming. Spencer immediately senses your discomfort and shuffles away, turning $s_hisher head away and looking down, “Sorry, I got carried away and forgot that you aren’t fond of people just,” Spencer waves their hand in the air, “throwing themselves onto you without warning.” You slowly reach out towards Spencer, resting your hand on $s_hisher shoulder, and soften your gaze. “I forgive you, just this once,” you grin. Spencer laughs and the tension is broken. “Well, guess I will just have to warm myself up the old fashion way,” Spencer declares, standing up. “I don’t think smoking will warm you up.” “Well not with that attitude it won’t!” Spencer pulls away and stands a few steps to the side of you, in the downwind, then lights up $s_hisher cigarette. $s_HisHer eyes close as $s_heshe slowly inhale, ash dropping to the floor and the smoke curling around Spencer’s face, $s_heshe appear peaceful. You watch $s_himher silently, not wanting to disturb the tranquil image. Eventually the cigarette burns down and Spencer returns to sit next to you, $s_hisher eyes looking over the landscape like you were doing previously. Another train rattles past, whipping the air around you and causing Spencer to burrow further into $s_hisher coat. “So, you never answered my question. Why are you out here?” [[“We get drafted in two weeks.”]]

Standing behind you, Mel steadies the hammer in your hands, helping you swing it above your head. Your arms shake as you hold the hammer, your knuckles straining around the handle as you try to keep yourself steady. Mel begins the countdown, “Remember, swing on one. Three, two,” you feel the hammer swing forward under the push of Mel’s hand, “one!” The hammer swings forward under the combined momentum of Mel’s push and your body falling forward. You stumble to your knees as the hammer falls onto the target, Mel rushes to grab the hammer so it won’t fall back onto you, and you leap to your feet with a cheer as the bell rings, confetti sprinkling down onto your head. “Wow, you did it!” Spencer dances around the tower with you, your laughter intermingling as you hug and cheer. “You’re up next,” Mel says with a chuckle, the hammer over her shoulder. Spencer rushes for $s_hisher turn, a spring in $s_hisher step as they eagerly take their place in front of Mel. You watch as Spencer’s body is propelled forward like yours was before, the bell ringing once again. “Looks like we have two winners tonight! What will your prize of choice be?” Spencer and you dog Mel’s steps as you follow her to the stall, eagerly scanning the shelf. You quickly point out the lopsided blue dog plush and Spencer chooses a cute grey mouse plush. [[Mel collects your blue dog off the shelf and Spencer’s grey mouse]]

“Thank you, Mel!” The two of you shout in glee, hugging your plushies to your chests before sprinting away, eager to play other games and see what the other stalls and tables had to offer. That evening was a beacon of light in your first year at the orphanage, a memory you would often visit when things were difficult, chasing away the shadows of your grief. You are pulled out of your reverie by a familiar voice, “Is there a reason you’re out here all by yourself, $name?” You startle, the back of your boots scrapping harshly against the red brick wall as you feel yourself jump. Behind you stands Spencer, an unlit cigarette dangling from $s_hisher mouth, and $s_hisher hands buried deep into $s_hisher overly large coat. <<if $s_person is "woman">>Her black hair that is haphazardly tied up into a messy bun bounces atop her head as she hops from foot to foot, trying to keep her lanky 5’5” frame warm, as she makes her way to you. She drops unceremoniously next to you, slumping against your side. Her hazel eyes gleam with mischief as she snuggles into you, forcing her cold, tan hands against you.<<elseif $s_person is "man">>His choppy, shoulder length hair falls over his eyes as he hops from foot to foot, trying to keep his lanky 5’7” frame warm, as he makes his way to you. He drops unceremoniously next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into a hug. His hazel eyes gleam with mischief as he rubs his cheek into the side of your face, forcing his cold, tan cheek and nose against you.<<elseif $s_person is "person">>Their black hair is tied back into a low ponytail that swings rapidly as they hop from foot to foot, messy bangs falling over their eyes, as they try to keep their 5’6” lanky frame warm. Slowly they make their way to you and drop unceremoniously next to you, slumping against your side. Their hazel eyes gleam with mischief as they grab your arm, snuggling into it, their cold, tan hands gripping your arm tightly.<</if>> <fieldset>\ [[• Return the affection]] [[• Playfully push Spencer away]] [[• Stiffen from the sudden contact]] </fieldset>\

The words hang in the air, suspended by the tense strings of silence sown between Spencer and you. “Everything will change.” The words fall and land like a weight against your chest, the pressure unpleasant. Dusk sets in, cool blues washing over the bowed buildings and the bruised purple light drips over the streets. “I don’t want it to change.” The orphanage is a subsidiary of Voxis’s military, set up after the first exillium siege left the lower rung districts overflowing with parentless children. Orphanages were quickly established, often run by retired soldiers or social workers that the military found already living in the districts hit by the attacks. They were well run and maintained, the military sparing no expense, but there was one downside. Before mandatory conscription was officially implemented by the government, the orphanage strongly encouraged those it cared for to join the military. They promised food, shelter and job security. A lot of the education provided by the orphanage focused on the military and it led to a lot of the children enlisting. Now, with mandatory service, it is just waiting until your 18th birthday to join the academy. In previous years you watched friends and family get separated at the orphanage during the draft. Children sent to different academies based on their records and school reports. There was never a guarantee that you would end up in the same academy as those you grew up with and it frightened you; that you may never see Spencer again. <fieldset>\ [[• You aren’t against joining the military but you wish you could go to the same academy as Spencer]] [[• You are vehemently against joining the military]] [[• You are unsure how you feel about the military and you wish to attend the same academy as Spencer]] </fieldset>\

Your stomach churned at the thought of being forced to the academy. The military may have sheltered and fed you all these years but as far as you’re concerned it is a simple drop in the bucket for what they owe you. Your district was laid to ruin and they never tried to recover it, leaving you and many others to live in overcrowded districts and fight for scraps. Those who tried to reclaim the land and make a better life for themselves were chased away by the military. “We should dodge the draft, become sewer people,” you are broken from your daze by Spencer’s words. $s_HisHer voice is light-hearted and the words were said in a joking manner but Spencer’s face doesn’t match the tone. “Our sleepovers will be less comfortable and the smell may prove difficult to get used to but at least we’ll be together.” Spencer watches your face carefully, $s_hisher hands hidden away in $s_hisher coat pockets, preventing you from being able to read Spencer’s true emotions. Usually you are able to by watching $s_hisher hands, $s_hisher usual nervous tick of running $s_hisher thumb over $s_hisher index finger always gives you insight into Spencer’s thoughts and mood. “It would be great, if it didn’t mean imprisonment if we were caught.” You say, testing the waters. However, before you could hear a response, a loud voice interrupted. “Hey, you kids aren’t allowed out here! It’s dangerous, you need to come with me.” A man dressed in black and green tactical gear calls out, his pulsefire rifle slung over his shoulder and his helmet and black goggles hiding his face from view. “Debe almighty, the old lady will have us on dishwashing duty all week if we get caught again!” Spencer scrambles away from the edge of the building, looking for an escape. You quickly follow, not interested in being punished alone. Adults often faced harsher consequences when found in the abandoned districts, while those yet to be recognised as an adult under the eyes of the law would simply be escorted back to their home or orphanage, leaving the adult in charge to administer a fitting punishment. It sounds like a simple slap on the wrist for most but Matron Andrietta made the punishment feel far more grave. She would often choose the chores that no one wanted to do as a fitting punishment and you were left scrubbing and cleaning toilets, dishes and clothing for weeks on end depending on what the officer would report. Your body moved to follow Spencer without thought. <fieldset>\ [[• Parkour across the building rooftops to lose the officer]] [[• Pull out your homemade grappling gun]] </fieldset>\ <<set $antimilitaryorphan to true>>

Truth be told, if you had a guarantee that you would go to the same academy as Spencer, you would be worry free. The military would keep you off the streets and ensure you never went hungry. The pros outweigh the cons as far as you were concerned. There was also the added benefit of being able to save others from losing their loved ones, as you did, a worthy pursuit. “We should dodge the draft, become sewer people,” you are broken from your daze by Spencer’s words. $s_HisHer voice is light-hearted and the words were said in a joking manner but Spencer’s face doesn’t match the tone. “Our sleepovers will be less comfortable and the smell may prove difficult to get used to but at least we’ll be together.” Spencer watches your face carefully, $s_hisher hands hidden away in $s_hisher coat pockets, preventing you from being able to read Spencer’s true emotions. Usually you are able to by watching $s_hisher hands, $s_hisher usual nervous tick of running $s_hisher thumb over $s_hisher index finger always gives you insight into Spencer’s thoughts and mood. “It would be great, if it didn’t mean imprisonment if we were caught.” You say, testing the waters. However, before you could hear a response, a loud voice interrupted. “Hey, you kids aren’t allowed out here! It’s dangerous, you need to come with me.” A man dressed in black and green tactical gear calls out, his pulsefire rifle slung over his shoulder and his helmet and black goggles hiding his face from view. “Debe almighty, the old lady will have us on dishwashing duty all week if we get caught again!” Spencer scrambles away from the edge of the building, looking for an escape. You quickly follow, not interested in being punished alone. Adults often faced harsher consequences when found in the abandoned districts, while those yet to be recognised as an adult under the eyes of the law would simply be escorted back to their home or orphanage, leaving the adult in charge to administer a fitting punishment. It sounds like a simple slap on the wrist for most but Matron Andrietta made the punishment feel far more grave. She would often choose the chores that no one wanted to do as a fitting punishment and you were left scrubbing and cleaning toilets, dishes and clothing for weeks on end depending on what the officer would report. Your body moved to follow Spencer without thought. <fieldset>\ [[• Parkour across the building rooftops to lose the officer]] [[• Pull out your homemade grappling gun]] </fieldset>\ <<set $promilitaryorphan to true>>

Your nails bite into your thighs as you think, unsure how you feel about the military and the academy as a whole. You’re thankful for housing, feeding and clothing you all these years but you can’t shake the scenes of people fighting for scraps in the street and how every attempt at reclaiming lost districts is met with resistance. “We should dodge the draft, become sewer people,” you are broken from your daze by Spencer’s words. $s_HisHer voice is light-hearted and the words were said in a joking manner but Spencer’s face doesn’t match the tone. “Our sleepovers will be less comfortable and the smell may prove difficult to get used to but at least we’ll be together.” Spencer watches your face carefully, $s_hisher hands hidden away in $s_hisher coat pockets, preventing you from being able to read Spencer’s true emotions. Usually you are able to by watching $s_hisher hands, $s_hisher usual nervous tick of running $s_hisher thumb over $s_hisher index finger always gives you insight into Spencer’s thoughts and mood. “It would be great, if it didn’t mean imprisonment if we were caught.” You say, testing the waters. However, before you could hear a response, a loud voice interrupted. “Hey, you kids aren’t allowed out here! It’s dangerous, you need to come with me.” A man dressed in black and green tactical gear calls out, his pulsefire rifle slung over his shoulder and his helmet and black goggles hiding his face from view. “Debe almighty, the old lady will have us on dishwashing duty all week if we get caught again!” Spencer scrambles away from the edge of the building, looking for an escape. You quickly follow, not interested in being punished alone. Adults often faced harsher consequences when found in the abandoned districts, while those yet to be recognised as an adult under the eyes of the law would simply be escorted back to their home or orphanage, leaving the adult in charge to administer a fitting punishment. It sounds like a simple slap on the wrist for most but Matron Andrietta made the punishment feel far more grave. She would often choose the chores that no one wanted to do as a fitting punishment and you were left scrubbing and cleaning toilets, dishes and clothing for weeks on end depending on what the officer would report. Your body moved to follow Spencer without thought. <fieldset>\ [[• Parkour across the building rooftops to lose the officer]] [[• Pull out your homemade grappling gun]] </fieldset>\ <<set $unsuremilitaryorphan to true>>

“Better keep up, $name!” Spencer shouts, leaping off the side of the building, coat whipping behind like a cape as you watch $s_hisher body fall for a moment before $s_hisher momentum is violently changed, $s_hisher grappling hook sinking into the building ahead and allowing $s_hisher to swing forward. $s_HeShe whoops loudly as $s_heshe swings from building to building, black hair dancing in the wind. Your boots pound against the cement floor as you sprint across the rooftop, your eyes locked on the railing, and as you approach the edge of the building you push off the side. Your body feels weightless as you soar through the air and you tuck your legs in as the next rooftop rapidly approaches. You roll across the rooftop smoothly, springing back to your feet and continuing to run as the officer tries to give chase from below. The officer is stubborn, refusing to be shaken loose despite Spencer and your best attempts. Realising that he could follow you as long as you remained in his sightline, you both decide to enter the next building, hoping to lose him in it. You drop onto the rusty emergency ladder and jump towards the light pole. Grabbing onto the pole you use your momentum to swing forward and propel your body through an open window of what must have been an apartment once upon a time. You roll across the carpeted floor, dust exploding around you, and then slam through the door. You look around, wondering where Spencer could be when suddenly the ceiling collapses with a loud bang, Spencer dropping in front of you, $s_hisher black hair streaked with grey from the dust. “You damn kids!” Your eyes widen, the officer's muffled voice can be heard from the staircase, his boots slamming against the stairs as he runs up. Spencer grabs your hand and pulls you into an abandoned apartment, closing the door behind $s_himher, “Help me move this shelf in front of the door!” You move to help, grunting as you push the old shelf in front of the door. Once the door was secured you both hid in the next room. [[You hold your breath, listening to the officer search the floor]] <<set $playerparkour to true>> <<set $spencergrapple to true>>

“Better keep up, $name!” Spencer shouts, leaping off the side of the building, coat whipping behind like a cape as you watch $s_hisher body rapidly descend before $s_HeShe rolls across the next rooftop, popping back to $s_hisher feet and continuing $s_hisher run all in one smooth motion. $s_HeShe whoops loudly as $s_heshe leaps, slides and rolls from building to building, black hair dancing in the wind. Your boots pound against the cement floor as you sprint across the rooftop, your eyes locked onto the opposite building, and as you approach the edge of the building you push off the side. Your body feels weightless as you soar through the air, grabbing your grappling gun from your jacket, you shoot the hook towards the next building and you feel your body jerk forward. Your shoulder tenses as you swing forward. The side of the building rapidly approaches and you feel your body jolt as you land on your feet. You begin running across the side of the building, gathering momentum until you reach the end and leap forward again, recalling the hook and shooting it towards the next building. You swing from building to building as the officer tries to give chase from below. The officer is stubborn, refusing to be shaken loose despite Spencer and your best attempts. Realising that he could follow you as long as you remained in his sightline, you both decide to enter the next building, hoping to lose him in it. You see Spencer propel $s_himself through a window and you follow suit. You run towards an open window and slide through, detaching your hook at the last second. However, the room had a hole in the floor and you find yourself rolling into the hole and plunging to the next floor with a yelp. You manage to land on your feet, coughing and covered in grey dust. A beat later Spencer appears through a door as you steady yourself. “You damn kids!” Your eyes widen, the officer's muffled voice can be heard from the staircase, his boots slamming against the stairs as he runs up. Spencer grabs your hand and pulls you into an abandoned apartment, closing the door behind $s_himher, “Help me move this shelf in front of the door!” You move to help, grunting as you push the old shelf in front of the door. Once the door was secured you both hid in the next room. [[You hold your breath, listening to the officer search the floor]] <<set $playergrapple to true>> <<set $spencerparkour to true>>

The room you duck into seems to have been a home office at some point. There is shattered glass on the floor from a display case leaning against the east wall, a mostly intact desk and a large bookshelf on the west wall. Spencer and you hide behind the desk, out of sight, listening to the door knob rattle as the officer tests the door. After a short period of time his footsteps fade away, seemingly giving up on his pursuit. You and Spencer slump to the floor, laughing in relief, and the desk’s top drawer rattles open from your sudden weight against the desk. “Woah!” You say as the drawer almost drops into your lap, barely held in place by its bracket, the contents spilling onto you and the floor. Pieces of paper and old letters scatter around you and Spencer, a foreign sight since holopads and neural implants became popular. The papers crinkle under your fingers as you pick up the scattered letters and sheets of paper, moving them back into the drawer. However, when you reach for one of the letters Spencer snatches it up, $s_hisher eyebrows furrowing as she reads it. “What does it say?” Curiosity clear in your tone, eyebrows raising as you watch Spencer pure over the letter intently. “I think this is recent, look,” Spencer hands the letter to you. //Crow, Patrols have gotten more frequent ever since the upper rung explosion in Waterhaven district happened. You’ll need to use the west street storm drain for the meeting. Thaden will guide you. Burn this letter after reading. Signed, Bulldog// “$name, do you know what this is?” <fieldset>\ [[• “Evidence that a person named Crow is incapable of following instructions?” you joke]] [[• “Could this be… a letter from one of those insurgent groups?” You say, curious]] [[• “Explosion in Waterhaven? The one that killed twenty people?” You say, unease in your voice]] </fieldset>\

“Evidence that a person named Crow is incapable of following instructions?” You joke. You expect Spencer to laugh but instead $s_hisher focus is still on the letter, carefully turning the letter over in $s_hisher hand with an expression of deep thought. “We should go to the location.” Your smile freezes, eyes wide as you take in Spencer’s serious expression. “Listen, you said it yourself, you don’t want things to change,” Spencer says, $s_hisher words coming out fast, “we could dodge the draft if we hide out with the insurgents. The military has yet to catch them, they must be professionals at hiding away,” $s_hisher words are earnest and you are stunned by the turn in conversation. Everything you know about the insurgents is from the news. The government condemns them, calling them terrorists and a threat to society. The insurgents call themselves revolutionaries, fighting to bring back the Old Gods. They are convinced that the exilliums can only be wiped out of existence through the divine power of the Gods. Decades ago, before the current government, the worship of the Old Gods was sanctioned in the cities. The Gods had their own temples and holy days within the cities and people were able to worship freely. However, when the exilliums started their attacks and the people’s prayers went unanswered, more and more strayed away from the faith and their devotion was directed towards the military who were able to push back the exillium threat. The faith was lost and it is rare to hear about the Gods except from the older generation or through the creative curses that still use their names. Followers of the Old Gods were all but extinct, the only people known to keep the old faith were those who wander the wastelands, and now the insurgent groups popping up in Voxis. “Spencer, are you serious?” You laugh weakly, waiting for Spencer to tell you it was $s_hisher turn to joke. “Give it some thought, $name.” [[You reflect on Spencer’s words on the way back to the orphanage]]

“Could this be… a letter from one of those insurgent groups?” You say, curiosity clear in your voice, peering over Spencer’s shoulder to get a closer look at the letter. Spencer hands the letter to you and you carefully run your thumb over the paper, the paper’s texture rough and the words were carefully penned with thick black ink. “We should go to the location.” Your thumb stills, hovering over the name Bulldog. Spencer continues speaking, $s_hisher words coming out fast, “Listen, you said it yourself, you don’t want things to change.” $s_HisHer words are earnest, “We could dodge the draft if we hide out with the insurgents. The military has yet to catch them, they must be professionals at hiding away.” Everything you know about the insurgents is from the news. The government condemns them, calling them terrorists and a threat to society. The insurgents call themselves revolutionaries, fighting to bring back the Old Gods. They are convinced that the exilliums can only be wiped out of existence through the divine power of the Gods. Decades ago, before the current government, the worship of the Old Gods was sanctioned in the cities. The Gods had their own temples and holy days within the cities and people were able to worship freely. However, when the exilliums started their attacks and the people’s prayers went unanswered, more and more strayed away from the faith and their devotion was directed towards the military who were able to push back the exillium threat. The faith was lost and it is rare to hear about the Gods except from the older generation or through the creative curses that still use their names. Followers of the Old Gods were all but extinct, the only people known to keep the old faith were those who wander the wastelands, and now the insurgent groups popping up in Voxis. “We don’t know the full picture, the information we have is only from the news and what others have told us. What if they are nothing like we’ve heard?” You ask, shaking your head, the skepticism clear in your voice. “Just… give it some thought, $name.” [[You reflect on Spencer’s words on the way back to the orphanage]]

“Explosion in Waterhaven? The one that killed twenty people?” You say, unease is clear in your voice. You start to fidget with your hands, your eyes darting between the letter and Spencer. You expect Spencer to reassure you but instead $s_hisher focus is still on the letter, carefully turning the letter over in $s_hisher hand with an expression of deep thought. “We should go to the location.” Your body tenses, eyes wide as you take in Spencer’s serious expression. “Listen, you said it yourself, you don’t want things to change,” Spencer says, $s_hisher words coming out fast, “we could dodge the draft if we hide out with the insurgents. The military has yet to catch them, they must be professionals at hiding away,” $s_hisher words are earnest and you are stunned by the turn in conversation. Everything you know about the insurgents is from the news. The government condemns them, calling them terrorists and a threat to society. The insurgents call themselves revolutionaries, fighting to bring back the Old Gods. They are convinced that the exilliums can only be wiped out of existence through the divine power of the Gods. Decades ago, before the current government, the worship of the Old Gods was sanctioned in the cities. The Gods had their own temples and holy days within the cities and people were able to worship freely. However, when the exilliums started their attacks and the people’s prayers went unanswered, more and more strayed away from the faith and their devotion was directed towards the military who were able to push back the exillium threat. The faith was lost and it is rare to hear about the Gods except from the older generation or through the creative curses that still use their names. Followers of the Old Gods were all but extinct, the only people known to keep the old faith were those who wander the wastelands, and now the insurgent groups popping up in Voxis. “What if they were responsible for those deaths, would you still want to hide with them?” You ask with a trembling voice, your eyes wide and hands balled tightly at your side. “The military controls the news, $name. We don’t know the real truth. Please, just… give it some thought, okay?” [[You reflect on Spencer’s words on the way back to the orphanage]]

Doubling back you and Spencer make your way to the familiar southside storm drain, traveling through the sewer system until you popped up behind the junkyard where old hover cars were turned to scrap. Grabbing your stashed away hoverboard you zip through the streets of Smolder, heading back to the orphanage. Spencer has lit another cigarette and the smoke trails behind $s_himher like the contrails of the old military jets. $s_HeShe flicks the cigarette away as soon as the orphanage comes into view, a large building on top of a hill that overlooks the entire Smolder district. The laughter of playing children can be heard as you slowly approach, the soft hum of your hoverboard drowned out by the younger children’s exuberance. “Look! It’s Spencer and $name!” “Come play, come play!” “Can I ride on your hoverboard?” You are quickly swarmed by the excited children, their sunlit bright smiles beamed towards you, and their little hands tugging at your clothes in all directions as they plead. Spencer scoops two of the smaller kids into $s_hisher arms, carrying them like one would carry a barrel bag under their arms. “What games are we playing today?” Spencer asks with a wide grin and you wince at the shrieks of delight that follow $s_hisher words. [[Soon you find yourself chasing the children]]

Soulforge and exilliums was the game of choice today. You and Spencer chased the young children around, growling and pretending to eat them as they ran away squealing, a few of the braver kids jumping onto your backs to save their friends. The front lights of the building lit up the lawn, catching the bright smiles and laughter of the children as you rolled across the grass with them. Soon a bell rings and Matron Andrietta could be heard calling from inside the building, “Dinner time!” There is mini stampede as the children trip over themselves to rush into the building, cheers and shouts reverberating through the foyer, and you and Spencer follow behind at a slower pace. When you enter the canteen it is already half full, rows of tables filled with the wriggling and bouncing bodies of children. The tables are arranged by age, the youngest at the front of the canteen where assistants could help them eat, while the eldest sat at the back. You lined up with your tray and slowly made your way through the line, the canteen ladies smiling as they dish food onto your tray. Walking to your table you slide into your seat, Spencer following closely after, and the hall is filled with the quiet clinking of utensils and jovial conversation. An older woman, perhaps in her late sixties, enters the canteen. She has light brown hair streaked with grey that is pulled back into a neat, low bun and blue-grey eyes that are partially hidden by thin wireframe glasses. She is dressed in a simple soft wool jersey and long skirt, her metal cane tapping against the floor as she walks to the front of the canteen. She stands in front of all the tables, leaning against her cane, and speaks with a soft yet clear voice. “Good evening, children,” Matron Andrietta says, “I have been informed by the administration office that there has been a spike in reports from the local barracks that children have been sighted in the Blackrock district.” She pauses, letting her words sink in it. “I’m sure that my children would be smart enough to avoid going to such a place, but the administration has instructed me to tell all my children nonetheless that these visitations will no longer be tolerated.” Murmurs and shuffling breaks out amongst the tables at those words, curiosity and surprise painting the faces of the children. “The Blackrock district has been cordoned off for an active investigation and anyone found in the area will be handed to the local authorities where they will be responsible for dealing with the matter.” Matron Andrietta’s wrinkles deepen as she finishes off her speech, her eyes misty, “Please heed the warning and… please be safe.” [[She walks off and the canteen explodes with chatter]]

“Active investigation?” “What do you think that means?” “I was just there today, what if we got caught-” The canteen has been lit aflame with conversation, voices rising and falling as the news sinks in. Next to you, Spencer runs $s_hisher index finger over $s_hisher thumb over and over again, $s_hisher the skin turning red from the constant motion. $s_HeShe seems lost in thought, the conversations washing over $s_himher. You gently nudge Spencer, snapping $s_himher out of $s_hisher thoughts. “You okay?” You whisper, reaching out to stop Spencer’s index finger, holding $s_hisher finger gently. “Yeah… yeah sorry, I was just thinking.” $s_HeShe shakes $s_hisher head, “This is weird, right? The sudden warning and investigation, plus…” $s_hisher voice lowers further, “the letter?” You look around, making sure no one was listening in, before replying. “Definitely weird.” Your confirmation seems to reassure Spencer. $s_HisHer eyes harden and $s_heshe says, “They must be looking for that group. That is the only explanation.” $s_HeShe bites $s_hisher lip, eyebrows furrowing and $s_hisher finger twitches in your grip, “We won’t have much time then…” The words are soft, barely audible even with you so close to Spencer. The bell rings, signaling the end of dinner, and one by one the tables slowly disperse. Children empty their trays into the waste bins and then run off to their dorms, grabbing their toiletries in preparation for the bathing period. You and Spencer follow suit, walking to the third floor where the senior dormitory lies. [[Spencer says a quick goodbye at your door, walking to their own room.]]

<<if $pinkelephant is true>>You enter your room and you are greeted with the familiar sight of your faded pink elephant nestled safely on top of your bed’s pillow. The pink fur is almost white from the passing of time, the ears barely attached if it were not for the extra stitches you applied over the years.<<elseif $bluedog is true>>You enter your room and you are greeted with the familiar sight of your lopsided blue dog nestled safely on top of your bed’s pillow. The blue fur is almost grey from the passing of time, the ears barely attached if it were not for the extra stitches you applied over the years.<</if>> Kicking off your boots you watch as they roll across your floor and land next to your single bed and small desk and chair. The night sky peeks through your window blinds and a cool evening breeze tickles the nape of your neck as you lean down and rummage around your desk cabinet for your toiletry bag. Grabbing the toiletry bag you stand up but before you walk towards your door your eye catches on the moving photo on your desk. The digital photo frame is simple; a wooden stand holds a sheet of glass that displays you and your parents. The photo captures a treasured memory from your past. You are sitting on your father’s lap, his arms wrapped around you while he smiles widely. Your mother starts out of frame but then runs in, jumping onto your father’s back, nearly toppling you all over. Your mouth hangs open with silent laughter, wriggling around in your father’s arms. The moment plays over and over again. You reach out, fingertips hovering over the faces of your parents. <<nobr>>Your finger traces the messy <<cycle "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "strawberry blonde">> <<option "golden blonde">> <<option "mousy brown">> <<option "chestnut brown">> <<option "auburn">> <<option "ginger">> <<option "dark red">> <<option "jet black">> <<option "silver">> <<option "white">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> hair of your father, a colour that you share with him, and his large dimple smile. Your finger moves to hover over your mother’s face next, her scrunched up nose almost <<nobr>>covering up the <<cycle "$eyecolour" autoselect>> <<option "light brown">> <<option "dark brown">> <<option "light blue">> <<option "dark blue">> <<option "hazel">> <<option "amber">> <<option "grey">> <<option "light green">> <<option "dark green">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> eyes that you inherited from her. It was reassuring to see pieces of them in yourself; knowing that they would always be a part of your life even if they were no longer alive. [[You step away, moving towards the bathroom]] <<set $nohaircolour to false>>\ <<set $yeshaircolour to true>>\ <<set $noeyecolour to false>>\ <<set $yeseyecolour to true>>\

With your clothes and toiletry bag in hand you move towards the bathroom. There are three separate bathrooms on the senior floor; split based on whether you identified as male, female or nonbinary. <<link 'Which bathroom do you use?'>> <<pronouns>> <</link>> You walk into the bathroom and quickly strip down and hop into your shower stall. There were never fights for the showers but those who came later were often left with lukewarm water so you would often see people running to their rooms after dinner. Tonight you were lucky and hot water <<nobr>> ran over your <<cycle "$bodytype" autoselect>> <<option "lanky">> <<option "slender">> <<option "athletic">> <<option "burly">> <<option "stocky">> <<option "ample">> <<option "lean">> <<option "wiry">> <<option "voluptuous">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> figure. Grabbing your washcloth you quickly scrubbed at <<nobr>> your <<cycle "$skincolour" autoselect>> <<option "golden brown">> <<option "tawny">> <<option "porcelain">> <<option "olive">> <<option "beige">> <<option "tan">> <<option "rosy">> <<option "bronze">> <<option "umber">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> skin until you were clean. Climbing out the shower you made sure to dry off and change into your clothes quickly, allowing for others to enter into the shower stall. You were in the middle of packing away your toiletries and tossing your clothes into your laundry hamper when you heard someone knocking on your door. [[You open your door]] <<set $noskincolour to false>>\ <<set $yesskincolour to true>>\ <<set $nobodytype to false>>\ <<set $yesbodytype to true>>\

Spencer stands before you, $s_hisher black hair still wet from $s_hisher shower and hands buried in $s_hisher coat that $s_heshe threw over $s_hisher sleeping clothes. “Spencer?” You ask surprised, unsure why $s_heshe would be outside your door. Normally the two of you would meet in the recreation room after showering, hanging out there until lights out. “Hey, sorry,” Spencer shuffles into your room, closing the door behind $s_himher, “I just really need to talk to you. Away from others.” You nod, worry visible on your face, pulling Spencer towards your bed to sit. $s_HeShe drops onto your bed, $s_hisher leg bouncing enough to rattle the bed and forcing you to place your hand onto $s_hisher knee to bring it to a standstill. “What’s wrong?” You ask as gently as you can, trying to catch Spencer’s eyes. Spencer stares down at your wall, hazel eyes unfocused, until suddenly they snap to you. Hazel eyes meeting your $eyecolour eyes. “I want you to run away with me; join the insurgent group.” “Wha-” “You’re right. Everything will change and I hate the thought of that. We have to join the academy and then we are forced to fulfill our mandatory service. That is six years apart if we get separated by the system!” Spencer rises to $s_hisher feet and starts pacing the length of your small room, hands tugging at $s_hisher black hair. “Spencer I-” “So we should just leave, before they can separate us! We owe the military nothing. The only reason they fed and sheltered us was to ensure we could be used as cannon-fodder for their war against the exilliums. Think about it, this orphanage is practically a factory for soldiers! We don’t have any family to fall back on; it’s the streets or the military once we age out of the system.” “Spencer!” You shout, your voice startling Spencer who freezes mid stride, hands still in $s_hisher hair. “Please, I promise I’m listening to you. Just… sit down and let’s talk about this.” Spencer collapses onto your bed, throwing $s_hisher arm over $s_hisher face, taking deep breaths. [[Spencer begins again, this time calmer]]

Dropping $s_hisher arm to $s_hisher side, Spencer begins to speak, voice calmer. “I hate the military. My parents died during the attack ten years ago because the military failed to call in the Soulforge in time. They were so focused on protecting their designated zones they just left civilians to die. The insurgent groups… they said that the Old Gods can wipe out the exilliums.” You remain silent, letting Spencer speak. “I’ve been wandering around the night market a lot lately and I’ve overheard what the adults have been saying, the whispers they’re too afraid to voice in case the patrols overhear them. The insurgents are fighting to free us from the military’s iron grip. They want to bring back the Old Gods and fight against the exilliums properly, not just mitigate the damage like the military.” “$name… the only reason I haven’t left yet is because of you.” Spencer whispers, $s_hisher hand fidgeting with your bed duvet. You absorb Spencer’s words, trying to wrap your head around everything $s_heshe has said. Both your parents died during the attack ten years ago, the military overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of the exilliums and you remember watching in horror as the streets were painted red. <fieldset>\ [[• “Spencer, if we leave and get caught, we’ll be branded as enemies of the state. If we fulfil our mandatory service we can leave after; sacrifice now for a better future”]] [[• “You know I am willing to follow you anywhere, but are you sure about the insurgents?”]] </fieldset>\

“Spencer, if we leave and get caught, we’ll be branded as enemies of the state.” You say, emphasising the word ‘enemies’. “We’ll constantly live on the run, we could never have a normal life.” Your voice takes on a softer tone, “If we fulfil our mandatory service we can leave after and do whatever we want with our lives.” Spencer rolls off your bed and slumps onto the floor next to your feet, resting $s_hisher head onto your leg. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to survive six years in the military.” Spencer whispers and you feel the shudder run through $s_hisher body as $s_heshe pulls your leg closer, hugging it tightly to $s_hisher chest. Your throat tightens and you struggle to swallow around the knot that forms in your throat, blocking your words. You try to find the right words to say as you gently comb your fingers through $s_hisher hair, the dark and wet strands curling around your hand. After Spencer lost $s_hisher parents in the attack $s_heshe has always shown resentment towards the military. Most of the people of Blackrock believed the military did all they could. They evacuated as many people as they could reach and protected and treated those who were brought to the designated evacuation zones. However, the sheer number of exilliums made it impossible for the military to reach every area in the Blackrock district. They underestimated the threat level and by the time appropriate reinforcements were called to help them reach further, Spencer and your homes had fallen. Because of that, some, like Spencer, believed that the military could have saved their loved ones. <fieldset>\ [[• You believe the same]] [[• You are torn, your anger at odds with your rationality]] [[• You believe that there was no way to save everyone, there were going to be losses no matter what]] </fieldset>\ <<set $tryingtoreason to true>>

“Hey,” You crawl over to Spencer, laying next to $s_himher, “You know I am willing to follow you anywhere, but are you sure about the insurgents?” Spencer rolls onto $s_hisher side, shuffling closer to you and bumping $s_hisher knees against yours, “All I know for sure is that I’m not strong enough to survive six years in the military, $name.” Your throat tightens and you struggle to swallow around the knot that forms in your throat, blocking your words. You try to find the right words to say as you bring your hand up to Spencer’s head, dragging your fingers gently through $s_hisher hair, the dark and wet strands curling around your hand. After Spencer lost $s_hisher parents in the attack $s_heshe has always shown resentment towards the military. Most of the people of Blackrock believed the military did all they could. They evacuated as many people as they could reach and protected and treated those who were brought to the designated evacuation zones. However, the sheer number of exilliums made it impossible for the military to reach every area in the Blackrock district. They underestimated the threat level and by the time appropriate reinforcements were called to help them reach further, Spencer and your homes had fallen. Because of that, some, like Spencer, believed that the military could have saved their loved ones. <fieldset>\ [[• You believe the same|Willing Version anger]] [[• You are torn, your anger at odds with your rationality|Willing Version torn]] [[• You believe that there was no way to save everyone, there were going to be losses no matter what|Willing Version believe]] </fieldset>\ <<set $willingtofollow to true>>

You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles jump under the sudden tension, thinking about the attack. Like Spencer, you believed that if the military was just a little faster in calling for reinforcements or analysed the threat properly, your parents could still be alive. However, you have learnt to push your anger down and let it simmer just below the surface. Your survival instincts tell you to fly under the radar and sacrifice for a better future. “I hate them just as much as you, Spencer. I do,” You move your hand to cup Spencer’s face, forcing Spencer to look into your eyes. “But if we run, we are giving them control over us in an entirely different way. We will be hunted like dogs for the rest of our lives, always looking over our shoulder. We will never be free from them.” Spencer looks ready to protest but you place your finger on $s_hisher lips, stopping them. “I know you think the insurgents can help us. That they can and will replace the military. But we don’t know that for sure. What we do know,” there is a heavy emphasis on the word know, “is that we will never have to be under the military’s control again if we complete our mandatory service. We complete it and then we can leave the city, join the wastelanders, and they will be unable to stop us.” Spencer turns away, breaking eye contact, $s_hisher words spoken facing away from you. “You'd rather dream of the distant future than run away with me in the present, Is that it?” You recoil as if slapped in the face, your hand that was once in Spencer’s hair now hanging in the air as $s_heshe stands, staring down at you. “You can be the military’s good little lapdog as long as you believe it will lead to the future you want,” Spencer sneers, “But what if that future never materialises? You are willing to put more faith in your parents' killers than people who could free us from the military!” “Don’t you dare mention my parents,” You snarl, jumping to your feet, seeing red. The two of you stand chest to chest, breathing heavily and hands balled tight at your sides. The anger drains away from Spencer’s face, $s_hisher lower lip wobbling and eyes growing red as $s_heshe whispers hoarsely, “Please. Please leave with me.” <fieldset>\ [[• Refuse to leave with Spencer]] [[• Say you will leave with Spencer]] </fieldset>\

You close your eyes and exhale heavily, your shoulders tense, remembering the day you lost your parents. Your emotions regarding the day are constantly changing. Some days you believe that if the military were just a little faster in calling for reinforcements or analysed the threat properly, your parents could still be alive. Other days, you believe they did the best they could in a horrible situation. The military weren’t acting with malicious intent but trying to save as many people as they could without risking the lives of others. “I’m also angry, Spencer, I am,” You move your hand to cup Spencer’s face, forcing Spencer to look into your eyes. “But I’m also tired of living in the past. We need to look to the future.” Spencer looks ready to protest but you place your finger on $s_hisher lips, stopping $s_himher. “I know you think the insurgents can help us. That they can and will replace the military. But we don’t know that for sure. What we do know,” there is a heavy emphasis on the word know, “is that we will never have to be under the military’s control again if we complete our mandatory service. We complete it and then we can leave the city, join the wastelanders, and they will be unable to stop us.” Spencer turns away, breaking eye contact, $s_hisher words spoken facing away from you. “You'd rather dream of the distant future than run away with me in the present, Is that it?” You recoil as if slapped in the face, your hand that was once in Spencer’s hair now hanging in the air as $s_heshe stands, staring down at you. “You can be the military’s good little lapdog as long as you believe it will lead to the future you want,” Spencer sneers, “But what if that future never materialises? You are willing to put more faith in your parents' killers than people who could free us from the military!” “Don’t you dare mention my parents,” You snarl, jumping to your feet, seeing red. The two of you stand chest to chest, breathing heavily and hands balled tight at your sides. The anger drains away from Spencer’s face, $s_hisher lower lip wobbling and eyes growing red as $s_heshe whispers hoarsely, “Please. Please leave with me.” <fieldset>\ [[• Refuse to leave with Spencer]] [[• Say you will leave with Spencer]] </fieldset>\

You purse your lips and your fingers still in Spencer’s hair as you try to think of how to broach the topic of the military with Spencer. Spencer’s hatred for the military was always a taboo subject between the two of you. You did not believe that there was a way to save everyone and that there were going to be losses no matter what the military did. You’ve made your peace with this fact a long time ago. However, $s_hisher anger could not be reasoned with and you’ve stopped trying to; and maybe that was a mistake. “I know you’re angry,” You move your hand to cup Spencer’s face, forcing Spencer to look into your eyes. “But we can’t always live in the past. We need to look to the future.” Spencer looks ready to protest but you place your finger on $s_hisher lips, stopping $s_himher. “I know you think the insurgents can help us. That they can and will replace the military. But we don’t know that for sure. What we do know,” there is a heavy emphasis on the word know, “is that we will never have to be under the military’s control again if we complete our mandatory service. We complete it and then we can leave the city, join the wastelanders, and they will be unable to stop us.” Spencer turns away, breaking eye contact, $s_hisher words spoken facing away from you. “You'd rather dream of the distant future than run away with me in the present, Is that it?” You recoil as if slapped in the face, your hand that was once in Spencer’s hair now hanging in the air as $s_heshe stands, staring down at you. “You can be the military’s good little lapdog as long as you believe it will lead to the future you want,” Spencer sneers, “But what if that future never materialises? You are willing to put more faith in your parents' killers than people who could free us from the military!” “Spencer…” You stutter, your heart sinking as you look up to stare into Spencer’s furious eyes, shocked that your best friend would callously use your parents against you. Spencer sees your wide eyes and trembling lips and the anger slowly drains away from $s_hisher face, $s_hisher lower lip wobbling and eyes growing red as $s_heshe whispers hoarsely, “Please. Please leave with me.” <fieldset>\ [[• Refuse to leave with Spencer]] [[• Say you will leave with Spencer]] </fieldset>\

“I’m sorry,” You watch as tears start to build in Spencer’s eyes as you speak, “I can’t go with you.” The words are barely able to leave your mouth, your throat tight as you watch your best friend’s heart break in front of you. Spencer’s mouth opens and instead of words, sobs escape. Spencer desperately grabs at your shirt, pulling you closer, $s_hisher pupils blown wide and moving erratically as Spencer searches your face for something, perhaps a sign that you could still waver. “Please, $name, please,” Spencer begs through hiccups, $s_hisher tears staining the front of your shirt, “Don’t make me leave alone.” Tears stream down your face, mixing with Spencer’s on your shirt. “I-” you sink to your knees, shaking your head as sobs wracked your body, “I can’t go with you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Spencer says nothing, standing dead still in the middle of your room, $s_hisher chest barely moving. Your hands shake as you grab $s_hisher pants, “You don’t have to leave. I know the future seems far but -” Spencer’s hand gently wraps around yours, carefully pulling your fingers away from $s_hisher pants. “We’ve made our choices, $name,” Spencer says, a fragile smile on $s_hisher face. “We have to respect the path that the other wishes to travel.” Slowly Spencer kneels down, bringing $s_hisher face directly in front of yours. “The only regret I have is that I never told you…” <fieldset>\ [[• “My true feelings in all these years together.” Set Spencer as having romantic love for you]] [[• “How important you are to me.” Set Spencer as having familial love for you]] </fieldset>\ <<set $noleave to true>>

“I’ll leave with you,” the words barely left your mouth and Spencer is already in your arms, hugging you with a disbelieving laugh, $s_hisher eyes shining with unbridled joy. “Thank you, $name,” is muttered by Spencer over and over again, arms squeezing you tightly as if afraid you would change your mind. “If we’re leaving tonight then we need a plan,” You say, your mind racing as the reality of what you have accepted settles in. It would be difficult to sneak out, Matron Andrietta and the other caretakers worked late, and the doors and windows were locked when lights out was called. You and Spencer would need to work fast. It was a well known fact that Matron Andrietta knew about the escapades of the orphanage children, their visits to the night market and field trips to Blackrock, but turned a blind eye as long as no patrol officer came knocking. However, with the warning from dinner fresh in your mind, you know it will be unlikely that she would be as negligent tonight. Moving around your room you quickly gather your few belongings; wrapping your parents photo carefully in your clothes so it would not be damaged and packing your childhood plushie with just as much care. Spencer returns from $s_hisher room, knapsack thrown over $s_hisher shoulder, ready to leave. [[Together you plan your escape]] <<set $yesleave to true>>

“The only regret I have is that I never told you my true feelings in all these years together.” Spencer whispers, $s_hisher face drawing closer to yours, $s_hisher words tickling your lips. “I don’t know when my feelings changed; when your face lit up my world and your very existence dulled the pain left by my parents.” $s_HisHer lips brush against yours as $s_heshe pulls you closer by the waist, “But I do know that I can’t leave without knowing how your lips feel against mine.” The distance between your lips disappears and you feel yourself pulled into a desperate kiss. The pressure is bruising, Spencer clinging onto you as if afraid you could disappear at any moment, $s_hisher hand cradling your face. You wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck, your thumb stroking the side of $s_hisher neck, feeling how $s_hisher pulse races under your thumb, and return the kiss with equal fervour. Your teeth bite into $s_hisher lower lip, drawing a small whimper from Spencer, $s_hisher lips chasing forward to reclaim yours. <<if $willingtofollow is true>>You feel your back hit the bed<<elseif $tryingtoreason is true>>You feel your back hit the floor<</if>>, Spencer caging you in, not allowing for any space between your bodies. “Debe almighty, how am I meant to leave after knowing the taste of you,” Spencer murmurs, lips swollen and eyes half-lidded. Spencer kisses the side of your neck, teeth dragging along the heated flesh. “Then don’t,” You plead, hands tightening in $s_hisher hair, trying to keep Spencer next to you. Spencer’s head drops, resting on your shoulder. “We both know I have to,” The words are painted onto your neck by each brush of Spencer’s lips, “We will only grow to resent each other if we force the other to go against what they believe in.” Slowly Spencer moves away, a broken smile on $s_hisher face, “But we will meet again, I promise.” Your body shakes as you bit back your tears, watching Spencer stand through blurry eyes. Spencer reaches into $s_hisher coat and pulls out Mouse, the grey mouse plushie Spencer won all those years ago. “And to make sure I keep that promise, I’m giving you Mouse. This way, you know I have to return.” You clutch the plushie to your chest and bury your face into the toy’s worn fur, refusing to watch Spencer walk out of your room, and your life. The door closes with a soft click and you are alone; only Mouse is able to bear witness to your sobbing and fitful sleep. [[The next morning you wake to panicked shouting]] <<set $spencerromance to true>>

“The only regret I have is that I never told you how important you are to me.” Spencer whispers, pain overtaking $s_hisher face, “You filled the chasm left by my parents; you saved me.” Spencer smiles brittly, “I often dreamed of dying in my first year at the orphanage so I could see my parents again.” Spencer takes a deep breath, holding it for three seconds before releasing it in a shuddery exhale, “But you made me realise that I had to live. There was a reason for me to stay.” Spencer’s hands rise to cup your face, thumbs brushing away your tears, “That I still had family left to love and care for.” You throw your arms around $s_himher, desperately clinging to your best friend, burrowing your face into $s_hisher neck. Your fingers dig into $s_hisher shoulder blades, anchoring yourself to Spencer’s body. “Stay with me, stay with your family, please,” You whimper, your tears soaking into $s_hisher coat. Spencer’s head drops, resting against yours, and gently rocks you in $s_hisher arms. “We both know I have to go,” The words are whispered into your $haircolour hair, “We will only grow to resent each other if we force the other to go against what they believe in.” Slowly Spencer moves away, a broken smile on $s_hisher face, “We will meet again. I promise.” Your body shakes as you bit back your tears, watching Spencer stand through blurry eyes. Spencer reaches into $s_hisher coat and pulls out Mouse, the grey mouse plushie Spencer won all those years ago. “And to make sure I keep that promise, I’m giving you Mouse. This way, you know I have to return.” You clutch the plushie to your chest and bury your face into the toy’s worn fur, refusing to watch Spencer walk out of your room, and your life. The door closes with a soft click and you are alone, only Mouse able to bear witness to your sobbing and fitful sleep. [[The next morning you wake to panicked shouting]] <<set $spencerfamily to true>>

You close your eyes and exhale heavily, your shoulders tense, remembering the day you lost your parents. Your emotions regarding the day are constantly changing. Some days you believe that if the military were just a little faster in calling for reinforcements or analysed the threat properly, your parents could still be alive. Your survival instincts tell you to fly under the radar and sacrifice for a better future. “I hate them just as much as you, Spencer.” You move your hand to cup Spencer’s face, forcing Spencer to look into your eyes. “I don’t want you to ever doubt that. I’m just worried we will leave and find ourselves reliant on people we should never have put our trust in.” Spencer looks ready to protest but you place your finger on $s_hisher lips, stopping them. “I know you think the insurgents can help us. That they can and will replace the military. But I need something more than just your reassurances before we take this plunge. Can you give me that?” Spencer carefully considers your words, turning onto $s_hisher back and staring at your room ceiling. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “Jonesy was the one to tell me about the insurgents. He is part of the group, and said he could take care of us if we ever decide to run away.” You’re left stunned, stuttering over your words, “How-when did you find this out?” Spencer rubs $s_hisher face sheepishly, avoiding your eyes.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “Mel was the one to tell me about the insurgents. She is part of the group, and said she could take care of us if we ever decide to run away.” You’re left stunned, stuttering over your words, “How-when did you find this out?” Spencer rubs $s_hisher face sheepishly, avoiding your eyes.<</if>> $s_HeShe shrugged, “Ran into them while walking and we got to talking. It happened when you were sick and Matron Andrietta refused to let me near you.” You remember that week, you and a few other kids caught an awful bug and were quarantined from the others in the orphanage to prevent it spreading. “Is that enough?” Spencer asks, eyes meeting yours, facing you once again. <fieldset>\ [[• Tell Spencer it is not enough]] [[• Tell Spencer it’s enough|• Say you will leave with Spencer]] </fieldset>\

You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles jump under the sudden tension, thinking about the attack. Like Spencer, you believed that if the military was just a little faster in calling for reinforcements or analysed the threat properly, your parents could still be alive. However, you have learnt to push your anger down and let it simmer just below the surface. Other days, you believe they did the best they could in a horrible situation. The military weren’t acting with malicious intent but trying to save as many people as they could without risking the lives of others. “I’m also angry, Spencer, I am,” You move your hand to cup Spencer’s face, forcing Spencer to look into your eyes. “I’m just worried we will leave and find ourselves reliant on people we should never have put our trust in.” Spencer looks ready to protest but you place your finger on $s_hisher lips, stopping them. “I know you think the insurgents can help us. That they can and will replace the military. But I need something more than just your reassurances before we take this plunge. Can you give me that?” Spencer carefully considers your words, turning onto $s_hisher back and staring at your room ceiling. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “Jonesy was the one to tell me about the insurgents. He is part of the group, and said he could take care of us if we ever decide to run away.” You’re left stunned, stuttering over your words, “How-when did you find this out?” Spencer rubs $s_hisher face sheepishly, avoiding your eyes.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “Mel was the one to tell me about the insurgents. She is part of the group, and said she could take care of us if we ever decide to run away.” You’re left stunned, stuttering over your words, “How-when did you find this out?” Spencer rubs $s_hisher face sheepishly, avoiding your eyes.<</if>> $s_HeShe shrugged, “Ran into them while walking and we got to talking. It happened when you were sick and Matron Andrietta refused to let me near you.” You remember that week, you and a few other kids caught an awful bug and were quarantined from the others in the orphanage to prevent it spreading. “Is that enough?” Spencer asks, eyes meeting yours, facing you once again. <fieldset>\ [[• Tell Spencer it is not enough]] [[• Tell Spencer it’s enough|• Say you will leave with Spencer]] </fieldset>\

You purse your lips and your fingers still in Spencer’s hair as you try to think of how to broach the topic of the military with Spencer. Spencer’s hatred for the military was always a taboo subject between the two of you. You did not believe that there was a way to save everyone and that there were going to be losses no matter what the military did. You’ve made your peace with this fact a long time ago. However, $s_hisher anger could not be reasoned with and you’ve stopped trying to; and maybe that was a mistake. “I know you’re angry,” You move your hand to cup Spencer’s face, forcing Spencer to look into your eyes. “And I know most days you wish I was too. But right now, I’m just worried we will leave and find ourselves reliant on people we should never have put our trust in.” Spencer looks ready to protest but you place your finger on $s_hisher lips, stopping them. “I know you think the insurgents can help us. That they can and will replace the military. But I need something more than just your reassurances before we take this plunge. Can you give me that?” Spencer carefully considers your words, turning onto $s_hisher back and staring at your room ceiling. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “Jonesy was the one to tell me about the insurgents. He is part of the group, and said he could take care of us if we ever decide to run away.” You’re left stunned, stuttering over your words, “How-when did you find this out?” Spencer rubs $s_hisher face sheepishly, avoiding your eyes.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “Mel was the one to tell me about the insurgents. She is part of the group, and said she could take care of us if we ever decide to run away.” You’re left stunned, stuttering over your words, “How-when did you find this out?” Spencer rubs $s_hisher face sheepishly, avoiding your eyes.<</if>> $s_HeShe shrugged, “Ran into them while walking and we got to talking. It happened when you were sick and Matron Andrietta refused to let me near you.” You remember that week, you and a few other kids caught an awful bug and were quarantined from the others in the orphanage to prevent it spreading. “Is that enough?” Spencer asks, eyes meeting yours, facing you once again. <fieldset>\ [[• Tell Spencer it is not enough]] [[• Tell Spencer it’s enough|• Say you will leave with Spencer]] </fieldset>\

“I’m sorry,” You watch as tears start to build in Spencer’s eyes as you speak, “It’s not enough.” The words are barely able to leave your mouth, your throat tight as you watch your best friend’s heart break in front of you. Spencer’s mouth opens and instead of words, sobs escape. Spencer desperately grabs at your shirt, pulling you closer, $s_hisher pupils blown wide and moving erratically as Spencer searches your face for something, perhaps a sign that you could still waver. “Please, $name, please,” Spencer begs through hiccups, $s_hisher tears staining the front of your shirt, “Don’t make me leave alone.” Tears stream down your face, mixing with Spencer’s on your shirt. “I-” your hands shake as sobs wracked your body, “I can’t go with you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Spencer says nothing, laying dead still on your bed, $s_hisher chest barely moving. “You don’t have to leave. We can find another way-” Spencer’s hands gently wrap around yours, bringing them to $s_hisher chest. “We’ve made our choices, $name,” Spencer says, a fragile smile on $s_hisher face. “We have to respect the path that the other wishes to travel.” Slowly Spencer shuffles closer, bringing $s_hisher face directly in front of yours. “The only regret I have is that I never told you…” <fieldset>\ [[• “My true feelings in all these years together.” Set Spencer as having romantic love for you]] [[• “How important you are to me.” Set Spencer as having familial love for you]] </fieldset>\ <<set $noleave to true>>

Your eyes struggle to open, swollen and crusted from your tears. The panicked shouting and raised alarm does nothing to help your already pounding head as you slowly lift it from your tear soaked pillow, Mouse still in your arms. You are barely conscious when there is a rapid series of knocks against your door, a brisk woman’s voice sounding from behind it, “$name $surname, this is Officer Musgrave. I would like to have a few words with you.” Her voice startles your brain into action, body jumping out of bed, and your face twisting with panic as you approach your door. “Sorry, I slept in, please give me a second!” You try your best to remove the traces of your tears from your face, furiously scrubbing at it with a tissue and a small amount of water you keep on your bedside table. Knowing that is the best you can do, you slowly open the door. “Sorry for the wait, Officer Musgrave. Is something wrong?” You ask, trying to keep your voice calm and your hands steady on the door. “I need you to follow me to the local barracks. We need you to answer a few questions about your friend, Spencer Fawkes.” Your hands begin to sweat against the doorframe, “Spencer? Why do you need to know about $s_himher?” “All your questions will be answered at the barracks. Be ready in five minutes, I will escort you.” The officer walks downstairs and you watch her retreating back, feeling your heart start to pound. Knowing you don’t have much you quickly get dressed and rush downstairs, children whispering and milling around in the foyer trying to figure out what is happening. Matron Andrietta is trying her best to control the situation, ushering the children to breakfast and sending you a sympathetic glance as you run past, meeting Officer Musgrave at the door. She nods and gestures for you to follow, leading you to her hover car outside. With no other option you get in and watch as the orphanage grows smaller as you zoom off. [[In the local barracks]]

The Smolder barracks is in a frenzy, officers and soldiers running around, holo-screens chasing them and flashing with news and warnings, it is complete chaos. From the shouting and passing holo-screens you can see there has been an explosion of some kind in the Blackrock district. However, you are stopped from learning more, Officer Musgrave escorting you to a small room where she tells you a soldier will be with you shortly. Sitting down on the cold metal chair you shift uncomfortably, looking around the white room with a large window on the east side wall. There is not much in the room besides the window, table and chairs. The door opens and a rather short man enters, his military fatigues rumpled and his short hair sticking up in random directions. He has a friendly face, a warm smile and lines around his eyes and mouth to show it is a common sight, and he moves slowly towards the table. Sitting down with a huff he pulls out two bottles of water from his belt, pushing one towards you and drinking from the other. “Sorry for the wait, as you can see, it has been quite the busy morning.” You hold the bottle of water between your hands, tracing the groove lines with your thumb’s nail. <fieldset>\ [[• You are calm throughout the questioning]] [[• You are nervous throughout the questioning]] [[• You are angry at the questioning]] [[• You handle the questioning with humour]] </fieldset>\

“I’m Sergeant Bedi and I’m sure you are wondering why you have been asked to join us at the barracks this morning,” He says smiling, resting his elbows on the table and speaking with his hands. You rest against the back of your chair, the water now forgotten as you intertwine your fingers together in a loose hold in front of you on the table, your voice calm when you reply. “I am curious, it was very sudden.” Sergeant Bedi laughs and smiles ruefully, “Apologies, it was sudden for us all this morning. How much do you know about Thaden’s eyes?” The abrupt switch threatened to catch you off-guard but you managed to stop your confusion from showing, instead taking your time to mull over his words. “I can’t say that I know what that is,” you answer truthfully. The name Thaden was familiar, he is one of the Old Gods. You’ve heard adults call out his name when they were angry with someone, ‘May Thaden strike you down!’, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Sergeant Bedi nods, seemingly expecting this answer, “They have been keeping to the shadows and only recently started to make themselves known.” “This morning, twenty officers and soldiers lost their lives pursuing Thaden’s eyes through the Blackrock sewerage system.” His tone is tinged with sorrow, eyebrows furrowed and his smile dulling, “The terrorist group collapsed the tunnels to ensure their escape.” You think back to the letter, the pieces starting to slowly fall into place. You force yourself not to react, keeping your shoulders relaxed and your fingers still. “We believed that we were dealing with a small group of people but the meeting we stumbled across had us faced with two hundred angry terrorists.” Your heart picks up, realising where this was going, “And among those terrorists was your friend, Spencer.” <fieldset>\ [[• You start to fidget with your fingers, mind racing]] [[• You fight to keep yourself calm]] </fieldset>\

“I’m Sergeant Bedi and I’m sure you are wondering why you have been asked to join us at the barracks this morning,” He says smiling, resting his elbows on the table and speaking with his hands. Your leg begins to bounce and you shove your hands under the table; hiding their shaking from view. “Ye-” You cough to clear your throat, “Yes. I’m not sure why I have been called here.” Sergeant Bedi laughs and smiles ruefully, “Apologies, we did not mean to keep you in the dark. How much do you know about Thaden’s eyes?” The abrupt switch catches you off-guard, a bewildered expression taking over your face as you try to figure out his goal. “I can’t say that I know what that is,” you answer truthfully. The name Thaden was familiar, he is one of the Old Gods. You’ve heard adults call out his name when they were angry with someone, ‘May Thaden strike you down!’, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Sergeant Bedi nods, seemingly expecting this answer, “They have been keeping to the shadows and only recently started to make themselves known.” “This morning, twenty officers and soldiers lost their lives pursuing Thaden’s eyes through the Blackrock sewerage system.” His tone is tinged with sorrow, eyebrows furrowed and his smile dulling, “The terrorist group collapsed the tunnels to ensure their escape.” You think back to the letter, the pieces starting to slowly fall into place. Subconsciously you bite your lip, ruminating over his words with a frown and your hands twisting in your lap. “We believed that we were dealing with a small group of people but the meeting we stumbled across had us faced with two hundred angry terrorists.” Your heart picks up, realising where this was going, “And among those terrorists was your friend, Spencer.” <fieldset>\ [[• Your leg jostles against the table, mind racing]] [[• You try to calm yourself]] </fieldset>\

“I’m Sergeant Bedi and I’m sure you are wondering why you have been asked to join us at the barracks this morning,” He says smiling, resting his elbows on the table and speaking with his hands. You do not respond, choosing to sit with your arms crossed over your chest and jaw tight, simply listening to him speak. Sergeant Bedi continues, unaffected by your silence, “We did not mean to keep you in the dark. How much do you know about Thaden’s eyes?” The abrupt switch catches you off-guard, and you narrow your eyes, trying to read him. “I can’t say that I know what that is,” you answer briskly. Which was the truth, the name Thaden was familiar, he is one of the Old Gods, but you knew little else than that. You’ve heard adults call out his name when they were angry with someone, ‘May Thaden strike you down!’, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Sergeant Bedi nods, seemingly expecting this answer, “They have been keeping to the shadows and only recently started to make themselves known.” “This morning, twenty officers and soldiers lost their lives pursuing Thaden’s eyes through the Blackrock sewerage system.” His tone is tinged with sorrow, eyebrows furrowed and his smile dulling, “The terrorist group collapsed the tunnels to ensure their escape.” You think back to the letter, the pieces starting to slowly fall into place. You move your jaw around, feeling it ache under the tension you were holding in it. “We believed that we were dealing with a small group of people but the meeting we stumbled across had us faced with two hundred angry terrorists.” The ache grows as you grind your teeth, realising where this was going, “And among those terrorists was your friend, Spencer.” <fieldset>\ [[• Let your agitation show]] [[• Try to hide your anger]] </fieldset>\

“I’m Sergeant Bedi and I’m sure you are wondering why you have been asked to join us at the barracks this morning,” He says smiling, resting his elbows on the table and speaking with his hands. You rest against the back of your chair, playing with the water bottle in one hand while your other arm is thrown over the back of the chair, the chair rocking back and forth on its hind legs. “It definitely crossed my mind once or twice.” Sergeant Bedi laughs and smiles ruefully, “Apologies, it was sudden for us all this morning. How much do you know about Thaden’s eyes?” The abrupt switch threatened to catch you off-guard but you managed to play off your confusion with a joke, “Sorry, I must have skipped that lesson in school, it doesn’t ring a bell.” You answered truthfully, even if it was in a light-hearted tone. The name Thaden was familiar, he is one of the Old Gods. You’ve heard adults call out his name when they were angry with someone, ‘May Thaden strike you down!’, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Sergeant Bedi nods, seemingly expecting this answer, “They have been keeping to the shadows and only recently started to make themselves known.” “This morning, twenty officers and soldiers lost their lives pursuing Thaden’s eyes through the Blackrock sewerage system.” His tone is tinged with sorrow, eyebrows furrowed and his smile dulling, “The terrorist group collapsed the tunnels to ensure their escape.” You think back to the letter, the pieces starting to slowly fall into place. You force yourself not to react, swinging on the chair and retaining your nonchalant expression. “We believed that we were dealing with a small group of people but the meeting we stumbled across had us faced with two hundred angry terrorists.” Your heart picks up, realising where this was going, “And among those terrorists was your friend, Spencer.” <fieldset>\ [[• Your become more serious]] [[• You fight to remain nonchalant]] </fieldset>\

Immediately your fingers twist and turn in your loose hold, your mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi pulls out his holopad and slowly pushes it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and you squeeze your fingers together, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

You force yourself to relax your shoulders, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth to ensure no words would slip out, your mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi pulls out his holopad and slowly pushes it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and you keep your body absolutely still, not betraying a single thought, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

“No,” You shake your head, the lie falling easily from your lips, your loyalty to Spencer not wavering for a single second. “We both didn’t even know about Thaden’s Eyes, this must have been a misunderstanding,” you say, wishing it were true. Sergeant Bedi’s eyes roam over your face, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Officer Musgrave said that you looked rough this morning, like you barely got any sleep. Did you talk to Spencer before $s_heshe left?” You pause at Sergeant Bedi’s words, considering your response carefully, “We had a stupid fight, said some nasty things to each other, I assumed $s_heshe left to walk around and clear $s_hisher head after the fight. Spencer never mentioned leaving to me.” You speak in half truths and lies, hoping to muddy the water to avoid being caught out. “I see.” The holopad is picked up by Sergeant Bedi and seems to be finding something on it, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen as he flicks through, until he finally finds what he was searching for. Pushing the holopad back towards you, your own face greets you on the screen, Sergeant Bedi showing you the records kept by the orphanage. <fieldset>\ [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your quick thinking and leadership skills]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your quick thinking and teamwork]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your quick thinking and commenting on your independent nature]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your athletic prowess and leadership skills]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your athletic prowess and teamwork]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your athletic prowess and commenting on your independent nature]] </fieldset>\

Thinking it was smarter to tell the truth than get caught in a lie by the military later, you decide to answer his question truthfully, “Spencer spoke about leaving the orphanage but there was no mention of Thaden’s Eyes.” After your response, Sergeant Bedi’s eyes roam over your face, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Officer Musgrave said that you looked rough this morning, like you barely got any sleep. Did you talk to Spencer before $s_heshe left?” You pause at Sergeant Bedi’s words, considering your response carefully, “We spoke, Spencer asked me to leave with $s_himher, I didn’t.” You keep your answer concise, not willing to talk about the fresh wound. “I see.” The holopad is picked up by Sergeant Bedi and seems to be finding something on it, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen as he flicks through, until he finally finds what he was searching for. Pushing the holopad back towards you, your own face greets you on the screen, Sergeant Bedi showing you the records kept by the orphanage. <fieldset>\ [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your quick thinking and leadership skills]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your quick thinking and teamwork]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your quick thinking and commenting on your independent nature]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your athletic prowess and leadership skills]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your athletic prowess and teamwork]] [[• The documents record your achievements at the local school, praising your athletic prowess and commenting on your independent nature]] </fieldset>\

Your leg bounces faster and faster until you hit the top of the table, a shrill metal screech piercing the air as the table is jostled forward. Sergeant Bedi pauses, checking to see if you are okay but you wave him off, your mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi continues, pulling out his holopad and slowly pushing it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and your knees knock together as both legs begin to move, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

You rub your sweaty palms over your legs and roll your shoulders back, trying to ease the tension building in your shoulders, your mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi pulls out his holopad and slowly pushes it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and you keep your body absolutely still, not betraying a single thought, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

“What does this have to do with me,” you say through gritted teeth, your eyes narrowing. Sergeant Bedi smiles and says, “I’m getting there, don’t worry.” His words cause you to bristle, your mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into and what Sergeant Bedi was trying to get out of you. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi continues, pulling out his holopad and slowly pushing it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and you ball your hands into fists, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

You struggle to keep your silence, biting down on your tongue to force yourself not to reply. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi pulls out his holopad and slowly pushes it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and your eyes water as your teeth sink further into your tongue, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

The chair drops forward, all four legs now on the ground as you lean forward, a frown on your face, and mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi pulls out his holopad and slowly pushes it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and you squeeze the edge of the table with your hands, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

Your chair pauses mid-swing as you absorb his words, your mind racing as you think about what Spencer has gotten $s_himself into, but then you force yourself to continue rocking back and forth. “Every soldier and officer wears a special set of goggles during missions. Not only does it allow them nightvision, it also acts as a camera to allow those outside of the action to monitor the situation and help strategise.” Sergeant Bedi pulls out his holopad and slowly pushes it across the table. <<if $spencergrapple is true>>On the screen, Spencer is using $s_hisher grappling gun to swing past the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer kicks away their hands and uses the momentum of the grappling gun to propel $s_himher out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<<elseif $spencerparkour is true>>On the screen, Spencer takes a running start then kicks off the tunnel wall, jumping over the officers and soldiers giving chase, they try to grab at $s_himher, but Spencer contorts $s_hisher body mid-air and evades their hands, landing in a roll before sprinting out of the tunnel before the explosions are set off, collapsing the tunnel behind $s_himher.<</if>> “Spencer is shown here evading arrest and leaving with the terrorists.” Sergeant Bedi taps his holopad and you tap your fingers against the back of your chair, not betraying a single thought, your eyes glued to the scene, “And we want to know if $s_heshe said anything about joining Thaden’s Eyes before leaving the orphanage last night.” His smile is still friendly but there is a sharpness to his eyes now. <fieldset>\ [[• Lie]] [[• Tell the truth]] </fieldset>\

The holopad shows your transcript from the local school in Smolder. The teachers wrote glowing reviews on the document, praising your quick thinking and leadership skills. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to the next rising star of the military. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, seeing you finish reading the document, “It is unfortunate that your friend has found $s_himself involved with Thaden’s Eyes because whether it was unintentional or not, that group is a danger to us all and those associated with the terrorists will have to answer for the crimes they have committed.” You stare down at the table, working your jaw around as you listen to Sergeant Bedi. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is now standing, his fingers swiping through his holopad again. “Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow. I hope you live up to the expectations of your teachers.” He walks out the room, leaving his holopad behind, and you stare down at the news report playing. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. [[The reporter’s voice is calm as they report the situation]] <<set $tactician +=2>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>

The holopad shows your transcript from the local school in Smolder. The teachers wrote glowing reviews on the document, praising your quick thinking and teamwork. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to you becoming a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, seeing you finish reading the document, “It is unfortunate that your friend has found $s_himself involved with Thaden’s Eyes because whether it was unintentional or not, that group is a danger to us all and those associated with the terrorists will have to answer for the crimes they have committed.” You stare down at the table, working your jaw around as you listen to Sergeant Bedi. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is now standing, his fingers swiping through his holopad again. “Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow. I hope you live up to the expectations of your teachers.” He walks out the room, leaving his holopad behind, and you stare down at the news report playing. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. [[The reporter’s voice is calm as they report the situation]] <<set $tactician +=2>>

The holopad shows your transcript from the local school in Smolder. The teachers praised your quick thinking and noted that you preferred to work alone and that additional training and instruction would be required to integrate you into the system. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that if you were guided properly, you could become a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, seeing you finish reading the document, “It is unfortunate that your friend has found $s_himself involved with Thaden’s Eyes because whether it was unintentional or not, that group is a danger to us all and those associated with the terrorists will have to answer for the crimes they have committed.” You stare down at the table, working your jaw around as you listen to Sergeant Bedi. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is now standing, his fingers swiping through his holopad again. “Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow. I hope you live up to the expectations of your teachers.” He walks out the room, leaving his holopad behind, and you stare down at the news report playing. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. [[The reporter’s voice is calm as they report the situation]] <<set $tactician +=2>>

The holopad shows your transcript from the local school in Smolder. The teachers wrote glowing reviews on the document, praising your athletic prowess and leadership skills. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to the next rising star of the military. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, seeing you finish reading the document, “It is unfortunate that your friend has found $s_himself involved with Thaden’s Eyes because whether it was unintentional or not, that group is a danger to us all and those associated with the terrorists will have to answer for the crimes they have committed.” You stare down at the table, working your jaw around as you listen to Sergeant Bedi. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is now standing, his fingers swiping through his holopad again. “Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow. I hope you live up to the expectations of your teachers.” He walks out the room, leaving his holopad behind, and you stare down at the news report playing. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. [[The reporter’s voice is calm as they report the situation]] <<set $combat +=2>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>

The holopad shows your transcript from the local school in Smolder. The teachers wrote glowing reviews on the document, praising your athletic prowess and teamwork. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to you becoming a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, seeing you finish reading the document, “It is unfortunate that your friend has found $s_himself involved with Thaden’s Eyes because whether it was unintentional or not, that group is a danger to us all and those associated with the terrorists will have to answer for the crimes they have committed.” You stare down at the table, working your jaw around as you listen to Sergeant Bedi. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is now standing, his fingers swiping through his holopad again. “Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow. I hope you live up to the expectations of your teachers.” He walks out the room, leaving his holopad behind, and you stare down at the news report playing. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. [[The reporter’s voice is calm as they report the situation]] <<set $combat +=2>>

The holopad shows your transcript from the local school in Smolder. The teachers praised your athletic prowess and noted that you preferred to work alone and that additional training and instruction would be required to integrate you into the system. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that if you were guided properly, you could become a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, seeing you finish reading the document, “It is unfortunate that your friend has found $s_himself involved with Thaden’s Eyes because whether it was unintentional or not, that group is a danger to us all and those associated with the terrorists will have to answer for the crimes they have committed.” You stare down at the table, working your jaw around as you listen to Sergeant Bedi. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is now standing, his fingers swiping through his holopad again. “Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow. I hope you live up to the expectations of your teachers.” He walks out the room, leaving his holopad behind, and you stare down at the news report playing. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. [[The reporter’s voice is calm as they report the situation]] <<set $combat +=2>>

“A recent bombing has left two hundred people injured, thirty people hospitalised and five people dead, although there are reports that this will not be the final number. The terrorist group Thaden’s Eyes' use of explosives to ensure their escape during the early hours of the morning has led to an unprecedented tragedy in Smolder. The explosives have collapsed the underground maintenance tunnels in Blackrock and led to a devastating chain reaction that affected the homes, streets and business of Smolder.” The reporter continues to speak, “Earlier today the officers and soldiers of Smolder tried to capture the group after finding evidence of their involvement in the bombings of the Waterhaven district that took place just last week. Currently the officers and soldiers have not issued a statement regarding the situation.” Your head drops into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the grisly scenes shown on the holopad. “Oh Spencer…” You whisper to yourself. The memory starts to distort and your shadow writhes and grows under you, your chair sinking into the ground, consumed by the darkness. You try to jump out of the chair, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]]

<strong>Age:</strong> 22 <strong>Height:</strong> 6'5" <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 3115/10/19 <strong>Current Rank:</strong> Lieutenant Junior Grade At first glance, Theo comes across as a very intimidating man because of his size. However, he is one of the kindest and most gentle-natured men to be found. His baritone voice can often be heard murmuring to the plants he cares for and he is always quick to offer a helping hand. Appearance: Theo is a brawny man. He has wide muscular shoulders, a barrel chest and long, strong arms and legs. His skin is a sepia colour, a deep reddish brown like that of mahogany. His black, thick hair is styled into short twists that are left to fall naturally around his face and sides that taper into a fade. The fade goes into his well maintained and trimmed beard. Two deep dimples appear in his cheeks whenever Theo laughs or smiles. <strong>Relationship</strong> /* render the player's relationship bar */ <<showmeter '$theorelationshipBar' `$theorelationship / $maxtheoRelationship`>> [[Back|Characters]]

The plan came together quickly; the two of you aiming for simplicity to reduce the risk of getting caught. Together you snuck through the building, avoiding the loose floorboards and keeping close to the walls. You ducked down, Spencer pressed against you, as you both waited for the cooks to walk past and leave the kitchen. Once the puttering footsteps couldn’t be heard, the two of you darted through the back door, exiting into the crisp night air. The ever-watching street lights cast their dim yellow gaze onto Spencer and your retreating backs, hoverboards zipping across the streets, your shadows racing alongside. The wind whips across your face, numbing your nose and cheeks as you travel past the junkyard. “How do we know which storm drain to enter?” You ask, your voice joining the low hum of the hoverboards. “I was told to look for the symbol of Thaden, it will be hidden somewhere on the drain cover.” Spencer answers. Your brows furrow as you try to recall the symbol of Thaden, mentally dusting off old memories until you are able to grasp at a faint memory. A woman, older than most in the lower districts, sits at a small table near the back of the night market. She would sell charms with the symbols of the Old Gods. Each came with a prayer inscribed onto the back; her way of keeping the faith alive in the city she said with a wink. On the front of the Thaden’s charm was an intricately drawn eye surrounded by the rays of a blazing sun. Further details included a scale drawn on the inside of the eye and a carefully inscribed message below the symbol which read, ‘Evil will find no foothold under my watch.’ You remember your fingers tracing the ink and murmuring the words to yourself. Using Spencer’s lighter the two of you searched the storm drains on west street, hands brushing away dirt and grime, eyes squinting to find the symbol. “Found it!” Spencer whispered excitedly, $s_hisher eyes reflecting the flickering flame of the lighter held in $s_hisher hand near the storm drain, a faint symbol of Thaden now visible, etched into the steel. The two of you carefully moved the storm drain cover to the side, squeezing through the gap. Once inside and the drain cover back in place you start to seek out Thaden’s symbols, searching for the path to the insurgents. It was a long trek, the symbols leading you on a twisting path through the sewer system. You find yourself shimmying across old pipes and down rusting ladders until you see a faint light beckoning you from around a corner. [[A room comes into view and it is packed tight with bodies.]]

Every inch of the room is crowded with people; all walks of life representing the lower rung districts packed tightly in the space and rubbing shoulders. The young and old stand proud, their eyes directed towards the front where a makeshift stage has been cobbled together. A lone microphone stands, waiting for someone to step forward to speak. There are easily over a hundred people gathered here, you estimate, your eyes roaming over the peoples’ heads. Spencer tugs your hand and you find yourself pulled through the crowd. You weave, duck and apologise as you follow Spencer, $s_hisher hand holding yours tightly, tan fingers interlocked and cool against your $skincolour fingers. Your lips part, wanting to ask $s_himher where you were going, but instead you release a startled yelp. Your body stumbling into Spencer’s, unprepared for $s_himher to suddenly stop. <<if $pinkelephant is true>>“Had a feeling you wouldn’t be coming alone, kid,” a familiar gruff voice says, amusement clear in his voice, “You two were always pretty inseparable.” You find yourself staring into the eerily blue eyes of Jonesy. You note how his lips are pulled into his signature crooked smile and that his once stark black hair is now streaked with grey.<<elseif $bluedog is true>>“Looks like you had nothing to worry about, Spence! $name followed you after all,” a familiar hearty chuckle draws your attention and you find yourself staring into the brown eyes of Mel. Her dark red hair, now streaked with grey, tied back into a high ponytail. She smiles warmly at you both.<</if>> <<if $pinkelephant is true>> [[• Jonesy shuffles to the side, making space for you to stand next to him]]<<elseif $bluedog is true>> [[• Mel tugs you and Spencer into her pocket of space]]<</if>>

Spencer grins cockily at Jonesy, “Was there ever any doubt?” An air of pride and joy surrounds $s_himher and you feel yourself pulled into $s_hisher side, $s_hisher arm thrown around your shoulders. “$name and Spencer, the inseparable duo they call us.” You laugh, mirth colouring your words as you say, “Who calls us that?” “Me,” Spencer replies, “And Jonesy!” $s_HisHer eyes light up as Jonesy guffaws, mumbles an agreement, and then moves to gently usher us towards a small space near the east wall. Jonesy creates a protective bubble around Spencer and you. His large frame stands in front of you and Spencer, keeping everyone away with a simple glance. You watch as people carefully maintain a distance from your trio. “Have we missed anything?” Spencer asks, curiosity clear in $s_hisher voice. Jonesy shakes his head, “Just people getting things ready and some lip flapping. The Waterhaven bombing is still fresh on everyone’s mind. They’re all talking about the fringe group; those dissatisfied with our methods here.” He grunts and his lip curls as he says, “Saying they shot ‘emselves in the foot by bombing a residential district. Gonna lose their support.” A flicker of… something, crosses Spencer’s face, before it smooths into an expression of regret. “The military is responsible for the way things are, targeting innocents will solve nothing,” Spencer says, disdain dripping off the word military. Jonesy sends a curious look over his shoulder but says nothing. <fieldset>\ [[• “So the fringe group are the ones responsible for the recent bombings?”|Fringe Jonesy]] [[• “How long have people been waiting for?”|Wait Jonesy]] [[• “How many people support the fringe group?”|Support Jonesy]] <<if $fringequestion is true>>[[• The microphone crackles, the speech starts]]<<elseif $longwait is true>>[[• The microphone crackles, the speech starts]]<<elseif $peoplesupport is true>>[[• The microphone crackles, the speech starts]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\

Spencer grumbles under $s_hisher breath, $s_hisher shoulders hunching to help hide $s_hisher ears that are starting to take on a red tinge, “Is it necessary to bring that up, Mel?” Mel laughs in response, throwing an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, bringing $s_himher into a side hug. “Just letting $name know that ?he is important to you,” Mel ruffles Spencer’s black hair and Spencer swats at her hand, a pout on $s_hisher face. Your trio has made the small space near the east wall your own. Mel moves away from Spencer to stand in front of you and $s_himher, using her body to block people from accidentally crushing you against the wall. Now and again she will sway back as people bump into her. “Have we missed anything?” Spencer asks, curiosity clear in $s_hisher voice. “Nothing interesting, just the setting up of the stage and some idle chatter. People have been talking about the Waterhaven bombing and the fringe group; those dissatisfied with our methods here.” Mel massages the back of her neck, sighing as she continues, “I get it. Protests and rallies can only do so much. But bombing a residential area? A lot of the support they got quickly evaporated after that.” A flicker of… something, crosses Spencer’s face, before it smooths into an expression of regret. “The military is responsible for the way things are, targeting innocents will solve nothing,” Spencer says, disdain dripping off the word military. Mel glances back at Spencer and a thoughtful expression flashes across her face. <fieldset>\ [[• “So the fringe group are the ones responsible for the recent bombings?”]] [[• “How long have people been waiting for?”]] [[• “How many people support the fringe group?”]] <<if $fringequestion is true>>[[• The microphone crackles, the speech starts]]<<elseif $longwait is true>>[[• The microphone crackles, the speech starts]]<<elseif $peoplesupport is true>>[[• The microphone crackles, the speech starts]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\

“So the fringe group are the ones responsible for the recent bombings?” You ask, flicking through your memories like an old book, trying to recall the news reports during the attack. Waterhaven is part of the upper rungs of Voxis. The district in Voxis is known for its affluence and the high ranking military and corporate families that reside there. When the bombing happened, the ripples were felt throughout Voxis. With twenty dead, most being civilians, the military cracked down on security. People were forced to show identification and documentation if they were entering the upper rung districts and did not work or reside there. No one could get in or out without being searched. There was a manhunt for those responsible for the bombing. Article after article was written about the event and the news was flooded with updates about the attack for a week. Despite their best efforts, the group was not caught. They only knew that the group were using Thaden’s symbol as their calling card. The very same symbol Spencer and you used to find this meeting. “That’s right,” Mel sighs, “A few months ago there was a disagreement. People arguing over the best way to bring about change.” Spencer stares intently at Mel, listening closely to her words. “Thaden’s Truth, those gathered here today,” Mel gestures to the surrounding crowd, “we believe that we can bring about change without violence. If we can bring the teachings of the Old Gods back, more people will see that they are the best path to ridding Azish of the exilliums. Rallies, protests, distribution of the old texts and worship in the abandoned temples, that can make people believe again.” She massages the bridge of her nose, “Unfortunately some did not believe that it was enough. Thaden’s Eye, they believe only a show of force will get the military to listen. To bring about change.” She frowns and continues speaking, “They always bombed military statues and vehicles, not trying to endanger humans at first, but… something changed. Recently, they have begun bombing military outposts and now with Waterhaven, residential districts.” <fieldset>\ [[• Why the name ‘Thaden’s Eye’?”]] [[Ask another question|• Mel tugs you and Spencer into her pocket of space]] </fieldset>\ <<set $fringequestion to true>>

“How long have you and the others been waiting?” You ask as you bop your head around, trying to see over the many heads between yourself and the stage. Spencer joins your attempt, straining onto $s_hisher tiptoes to see if there is any movement near the stage. “It has been about an hour, we seem to be running late.” Mel says, idly scratching at her chin. “Not too strange, with how things have been recently I am sure the leaders have more on their plate than usual. I can only imagine that they have been running around trying to make sure the military doesn’t catch wind of this meeting.” The note appears in your mind briefly and you can’t help but mention it to Mel. “We found out about this meeting through a note found in Blackrock. Does everyone have a codename here? Do you usually use notes to get word out about meetings?” Mel laughs at the sudden onslaught of questions, “Well, shit. You found one of our notes? Someone is getting an earful after this meeting.” You send a silent apology to Crow. “Yes, we all get codenames.” Spencer shoots you a wide grin, waggling $s_hisher black brows at you, and Mel watches the interaction with a fond smile. “If you stick around, you’ll be assigned one as well. It helps keep our identities and loved ones safe from the military. As for the note? It is rare we leave paper trails. We prefer to trade information out in the open, right under the nose of patrols.” “We have code words that we change out every week and it allows us to converse without getting caught.” Mel winks, “Our leaders are pretty good at what they do.” [[Ask another question|• Mel tugs you and Spencer into her pocket of space]] <<set $longwait to true>>

“How many people support the fringe group?” Your eyes roam over the crowd in front of you, easily over one hundred bodies crammed into the space. You can’t help but wonder how many there would have been in the room if the group did not splinter. “About a fourth split off. But that was at the start… I am sure there are more now.” Mel hesitates before continuing, “A lot of us get locked up during rallies and protests. We all know the risks when we go out. But things have been getting worse, with the bombings they are treating us more harshly and the resentment and bitterness is building amongst us. People want to pay it back.” Your eyes dart over to Spencer, catching the flash of anger that crosses $s_hisher face. “People are joining the fringe group because they are encouraged to fight back there.” Spencer states, $s_hisher voice eerily calm. Mel frowns, glancing back at Spencer from over her shoulder, “They are encouraged to hurt people, whether they deserve it or not.” Her voice is soft but you can hear the reprimand in it, and so can Spencer, based on how $s_heshe hunches forward. [[Ask another question|• Mel tugs you and Spencer into her pocket of space]] <<set $peoplesupport to true>>

On the stage stands a figure clad in a dull brown robe; old burlap sacks that have been carefully sewn into a garment for wear. The front of the robe has Thaden’s symbol stitched onto it using white thread, standing out against the brown of the robe. The figure’s face is covered by a clay mask; a painted fox staring out towards the crowd. The figure slowly raises their arms, the crowd falls silent, and they begin to speak. “Greetings, children of the Old Gods.” There is a synthetic quality to the figure’s voice, the words modulated and tinny. “We are gathered here for one reason, and one reason only… to stand against the military’s tyrannical rule.” The crowd ripples with nods, their eyes focused on the stage. “They fear the teachings of the Old Gods and try to silence us! Why else if not because they fear the paths that can be opened by the Old Gods?” “Yes!” You feel the word hit the centre of your chest, the crowd’s roar of approval reverberating through your body. “In the old text we see what Azish was like before. Before the exilliums. Before the veil.” Hushed and awed murmurs now fill the room, the crowd inching closer to the stage. “We are shown a land untouched by man’s greed; bountiful and beautiful. It is our reliance on technology that has led us astray and destroyed these lands.” There is a crackle as they breathe deeply, the fox’s slitted eyes watching over everyone. “We, as their humble disciples, must bring the Old Gods back to the masses. It is only by guiding society back to the old ways will we be saved.” You feel your arm jostled as Spencer raises $s_hisher fist like many others, $s_hisher voice joining the cheers that erupt all around you. It is that very same cheer that drowns out the soldiers approaching. [[Smoke canisters are thrown into the room]]

“Why did they name themselves, Thaden’s Eye?” Spencer questions, leaning back against the wall, hand toying with a cigarette. $s_HeShe clearly wanted to light it but fought back the urge. “They fancy themselves Thaden’s eyes, seeking out the darkness in Azish and laying down judgement, purging the evil.” Mel shoots a rueful smile to Spencer and you, “They seemed to forget the justice part of Thaden’s teachings. I don’t believe Thaden would see the death of innocents as righteous.” You ponder her words, “Thaden, God of Justice and Judgement,” you murmur to yourself. “Would that make Thaden’s Truth a group more focused on justice then?” Mel nods, smiling at you, “That’s the idea. In the past, people were able to worship the Old Gods freely and if we could bring back the temples and the teachings, we would fall away from a militant government.” Her words come out in an excited burst, passion clear in her eyes, “The military in their arrogance believe that they are the only ones capable of stopping the exilliums.” Spencer listens closely, tapping $s_hisher cigarette against $s_hisher leg. “But if they allowed us to seek guidance from the Old Gods, I’m sure other paths would open up. The government’s fear of losing control over us all is stopping us from finding better solutions.” Mel finishes, shaking her head and sighing. [[Ask another question|• Mel tugs you and Spencer into her pocket of space]]

“So the fringe group are the ones responsible for the recent bombings?” You ask, flicking through your memories like an old book, trying to recall the news reports during the attack. Waterhaven is part of the upper rungs of Voxis. The district in Voxis is known for its affluence and the high ranking military and corporate families that reside there. When the bombing happened, the ripples were felt throughout Voxis. With twenty dead, most being civilians, the military cracked down on security. People were forced to show identification and documentation if they were entering the upper rung districts and did not work or reside there. No one could get in or out without being searched. There was a manhunt for those responsible for the bombing. Article after article was written about the event and the news was flooded with updates about the attack for a week. Despite their best efforts, the group was not caught. They only knew that the group were using Thaden’s symbol as their calling card. The very same symbol Spencer and you used to find this meeting. “Got it in one, kid. A few months ago there was a disagreement. People arguing over the best way to bring about change.” Spencer stares intently at Jonesy, listening closely to his words. “Thaden’s Truth, those gathered here today,” Jonesy nods to the surrounding crowd, “we believe that we can bring about change…” There is a pause before he says, “without violence.” “If we can bring the teachings of the Old Gods back, more people will see that they are the best path to ridding Azish of the exilliums. Rallies, protests, distribution of the old texts and worship in the abandoned temples, that can make people believe again.” He shoots a rueful crooked grin at us, “Unfortunately some don’t believe it.” He scratches at the stumble around his chin, “Thaden’s Eye, they believe only a show of force will get the military to listen. To bring about change. They always bombed military statues and vehicles, not trying to endanger humans at first. But their methods have changed, begun bombing military outposts and now with Waterhaven, residential districts.” <fieldset>\ [[Why the name ‘Thaden’s Eye’?”|Thaden Eye Jonesy]] [[Ask another question|• Jonesy shuffles to the side, making space for you to stand next to him]] </fieldset>\ <<set $fringequestion to true>>

“How many people support the fringe group?” Your eyes roam over the crowd in front of you, easily over one hundred bodies crammed into the space. You can’t help but wonder how many there would have been in the room if the group did not splinter. “About a fourth split off. But that was at the start… I am sure there are more now.” Jonesy’s voice takes on a cold edge as he says, “A lot of us get locked up during rallies and protests. We all know the risks when we go out. But things have been getting worse, with the bombings they are treating us more harshly and the resentment and bitterness is building amongst us. People want to pay it back.” Your eyes dart over to Spencer, catching the flash of anger that crosses $s_hisher face. “People are joining the fringe group because they are encouraged to fight back there.” Spencer states, $s_hisher voice eerily calm. Jonesy seems to mull over his words, glancing back at Spencer from over his shoulder, “They’re fighting back, true, but that fight is affecting more than just the military. They needed to stick to their original methods to keep their support.” He says, his face calm as he stares into Spencer’s eyes. [[Ask another question|• Jonesy shuffles to the side, making space for you to stand next to him]] <<set $peoplesupport to true>>

“How long have you and the others been waiting?” You ask as you bop your head around, trying to see over the many heads between yourself and the stage. Spencer joins your attempt, straining onto $s_hisher tiptoes to see if there is any movement near the stage. “It has been about an hour, we seem to be running late.” Jonesy says, running his hand through his dark locks. “To be expected. Leaders have more on their plate than usual. Been running around trying to make sure the military doesn’t catch wind of this meeting.” The note appears in your mind briefly and you can’t help but mention it to Jonesy. “We found out about this meeting through a note found in Blackrock. Does everyone have a codename here? Do you usually use notes to get word out about meetings?” Jonesy chuckles at the sudden onslaught of questions, “Found one of the notes did you, how did that happen? You two running around Blackrock again?” You send a silent apology to Crow and try to appear as innocent as possible in front of Jonesy. The man shakes his head with a smile and says, “Yes, we all get codenames.” Spencer shoots you a wide grin, waggling $s_hisher black brows at you, and Jonesy watches the interaction with a fond smile. “Stick around long enough and you’ll be assigned one as well. It helps keep our identities and loved ones safe from the military. As for the note? It is rare we leave paper trails. We prefer to trade information out in the open, right under the nose of patrols.” “We have code words that we change out every week and it allows us to converse without getting caught.” Jonesy’s blue eye shutters into what you assume is a wink, “Our leaders are pretty good at what they do.” [[Ask another question|• Jonesy shuffles to the side, making space for you to stand next to him]] <<set $longwait to true>>

“Why did they name themselves, Thaden’s Eye?” Spencer questions, leaning back against the wall, hand toying with a cigarette. $s_HeShe clearly wanted to light it but fought back the urge. “They fancy ‘emselves Thaden’s eyes, seeking out the darkness in Azish and laying down judgement, purging the evil.” Jonesy stares pointedly at Spencer and you watch as $s_heshe sheepishly pocket $s_hisher cigarette. Jonesy continues, once the cigarette is gone, “They’re really fond of the judgement part of Thaden’s teachings; not so much the justice part. Thaden wouldn’t want to see the death of innocents” You ponder his words, “Thaden, God of Justice and Judgement,” you murmur to yourself. “Would that make Thaden’s Truth a group more focused on justice then?” He nods, smiling at you, “That’s the idea. In the past, people were able to worship the Old Gods freely and if we could bring back the temples and the teachings, we would fall away from a militant government.” His gruff voice overflowing with passion, “The military in their arrogance believe that they are the only ones capable of stopping the exilliums.” Spencer listens closely, tapping $s_hisher fingers against $s_hisher leg. “But if they allowed us to seek guidance from the Old Gods, I’m sure other paths would open up. The government’s fear of losing control over us all is stopping us from finding better solutions.” Jonesy finishes with a disgusted snort. [[Ask another question|• Jonesy shuffles to the side, making space for you to stand next to him]]

The heavy percussion of the crowd’s feet pounding against the rocky floor masks the clanking sound of smoke canisters entering the room. It is only when the smoke releases, the loud hissing sound breaking through the cheers, that people become aware of the soldiers. Panic sets in quickly as the soldiers pounce like bloodhounds, red goggles glowing through the white smog of the smoke as they prowl and snap at the people. “Freeze, You are all under arrest on suspicion of terrorism! Drop to your knees and hands in the air. No harm will befall those who come quietly!” A voice barks out, their words followed by grunts and groans as people fight back against the soldiers, desperately trying to run away. Your eyes water as you fight against the blinding smoke, stumbling as you struggle to remain standing against the roiling sea of bodies crashing around you. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “Hold tight!” Jonesy roars, bending his body over Spencer and you, acting as a battering ram as he forces his way through the crowd. You cling onto Jonesy as the man practically lifts Spencer and you into his arms, his face twisted into an expression of pain and anger as he storms forward. You hear a sickening crunch as Jonesy’s nose breaks, a baton cracking across his face, yet he does not stop. Kicking the soldier back and jumping over their fallen body and towards the exit.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “Close your eyes and hold onto me, I’ll protect you!” Mel screams, trying desperately to be heard over the panic, her arms spread out to force people away. Spencer and you cling onto the back of her shirt, trusting Mel to lead you out of the room. She uses her shoulder to shove people away, batting away flying hands and fists, trying her best to make a path out of the chaos. You see a flash of a baton and then hear a sickening crunch as two of Mel’s fingers on her right hand break. Using her left hand, she punches the soldier that hit her, and pulls you toward the exit.<</if>> However, your victory is short-lived. You are ripped away from your protector, soldiers swarming around your group. You hear Spencer’s outraged cry as you are thrown to the floor, spit flying from your mouth as you splutter from the sudden impact, black dots appearing before your eyes. Hands grab at your arms, trying to drag you up, and you feebly fight back, head still spinning. [[The crashing waves of bodies separate Spencer and you]]

The heels of your boots drag across the floor as you are pulled out of the room, the soldiers skilfully avoiding your thrashing legs. “Captain Nevos, we got another here.” One of the soldiers holding you calls out, maneuvering your body against the wall where others like yourself are lined up. Their heads bowed down and hands restrained behind their backs. “A kid?” Surprise colours the captain's voice, crouching down to get a better look at your face. “Why the hell is there a kid down here?” The captain says in an incredulous tone, looking to the two soldiers restraining you as if they would have an answer. “Are there others ?his_ age here?” Urgency fills their voice and you feel the soldiers shuffle uneasily next to you. “Yes, sir. I saw at least one other teenager in the crowd. I'm unsure if there are others.” The captain swears furiously, bolting to his feet. “We need to alert the other squadrons, something is wrong!” He spins on his heel and starts barking orders, “Release the prisoners and evacuate as many people as you can!” You can practically see the bewildered expressions behind their helmets. “Sir, why-” “Just do it!” Frenetic activity follows his order, soldiers scrambling to release their prisoners and start the evacuation procedure. The once prisoners are confused, torn between running away and fighting, but when the soldiers start pushing them towards the exit most cut their losses and rush for the surface. You choose to: <fieldset>\ [[• Look for Spencer]] [[• Follow the Captain]] </fieldset>\

You pretend to follow the crowd, keeping your head low and body pressed against the wall, waiting for an opportunity to slip away. When a gap opens up, you dart through, squeezing your body through the wall of flesh. Keeping to the shadows you sprint back towards the room, desperate to find Spencer. The room has devolved into a battleground. Soldiers and civilians clashing. You watch as soldiers wrestle with the civilians, trying to restrain and drag them away, while the civilians thrash and fight desperately to escape. There are fewer bodies in the room than before, most of the crowd having either escaped or been taken in, but those left seem to relish in trading blows with the military. “Stop! We need to evacuate!” A soldier shouts futilely, most of the soldiers and civilians too engrossed in their brawl to hear his pleas. You frantically search the room for Spencer, eyes darting from body to body hoping to see your best friend. Finally, you spot familiar black hair poking out from across the room. <<if $spencerparkour is true>> Spencer jumps over the diving tackle of a soldier, planting a foot onto their back and using it as a springboard to knee another soldier in the chest. Allowing $s_hisher body to travel towards the floor with the soldier, Spencer cushions $s_hisher descent with the soldier’s body and then rolls off the winded soldier. A crazed and furious gleam is present in $s_hisher eyes.<<elseif $spencergrapple is true>> Spencer shoots $s_hisher grappling gun into the ceiling and rapidly propels $s_hisher body upwards, avoiding the diving tackle of a soldier. Using $s_hisher newfound momentum, Spencer swings forward, recalling the cable, and lands a drop kick onto the next soldier that has joined the fray. A crazed and furious gleam is present in $s_hisher eyes. <</if>> “Spencer!” “$name!” Your eyes meet across the room that may as well have been an ocean with how far apart you felt. The two of you start to run towards each other, hazel locked onto $eyecolour, as you fight off civilian and soldier alike to reach one another. Fear paints Spencer’s face, $s_hisher eyes wide and red, $s_hisher lips trembling as they weave and shove through the crashing bodies around $s_himher. You’re so close. Just a few more steps. But then… The room shakes. [[“EVACUATE, EVACUATE FOR FUCKS SAKE!”]]

Your eyes track the captain’s movements, you watch as he sprints down the tunnel, away from the room and into a service passage. //What does he mean by ‘something is wrong?’//, you think to yourself. Eager to find out more, you pretend to follow the crowd, keeping your head low and body pressed against the wall. You wait for an opportunity to slip away. When a gap opens up, you dart through, squeezing your body through the wall of flesh and into the service passage. The service passage is narrow and you struggle to keep your balance as you navigate the twisting path. The low hum of the dim lights is the only sound other than your careful breathing that fills the stagnant air as you creep down the passage. Time seems to stretch as you strain your eyes and ears trying to find the captain. As you round another corner you finally hear voices, the simmering anger evident in the words spat. Carefully peeking around, you see the captain standing before another soldier, a soldier that towers over the captain. “- Kids here, we need to issue an evacuation across all the communication channels, Commander Kline. Our intel was wrong.” The captain says, barely able to hide his frustration. The commander replies in a crisp tone, “The presence of children does not mean they cannot be terrorists, Captain Nevos. We know that indoctrination can influence those of all ages. It is just unfortunate that the terrorists have forced the youth to join their ranks.” The captain vehemently shakes his head, “Sir, I have been tracking this group for a month and this -” “Captain Nevos.” The man freezes and you feel yourself tense, the commander’s deep voice paralysing you both. “I will not repeat myself. We will proceed according to the plan. You are dismissed.” You watch with wide eyes as the captain tightens his fists, sure that he was going to swing at his commanding office, but then he brings his hand up into a jerky salute instead. “Yes, sir.” The words are spat out. You slowly draw back, realising that you needed to get out of there before you were caught. As you creep away you overhear one last snippet of conversation, “We will be discussing your insubordination at a later time, Captain Nevos. But for now, do your job.” The words send a chill down your spine and your brain screams for you to find Spencer. [[You rush towards to the room, desperate to find Spencer]] <<set $followcaptain to true>>

The captain’s hoarse cries are barely heard over the deafening boom of explosions going off followed by the grinding growl of earth splitting above and below you. Your body crashes to the ground as the floor cracks and erupts, tossing you around like a ragdoll, and your head bouncing against the cement. Spencer’s anguished face disappears behind a chunk of metal and earth as it comes crashing down from the ceiling. Screams of pain join the chaotic orchestra as bodies are buried under the rapidly collapsing room. Suddenly, you are airborne. You feel your limp body thrown over someone’s shoulder, their pauldron digging into your torso and helmet bumping against your hip. “Save as many as you can!” The voice shouts, their arm keeping you secure. Through blurry eyes you watch as soldiers and civilians work together to escape the chaos, dragging bodies across the jagged terrain and helping to free the trapped limbs of others. Your head feels incredibly heavy as you fight to lift it, trying to find Spencer, the world spinning as you scan the room. You open your mouth to scream $s_hisher name but your tongue feels swollen and dry, incomprehensible babble falling from your lips. <fieldset>\ [[• Scream for Spencer]] [[• Try to get down]] [[• Tell the person to go back for Spencer]] </fieldset>\

Incoherent screams burst from your throat, forcing the syllables of Spencer’s name past your limp tongue in an endless plea. The soldier’s tactical vest straps are tugged and pulled as your hands try to find leverage to push your body up, desperate to get a better view of the wreckage of the room, searching for Spencer. “Medic, I need sedation!” “Ten comms down, no reply from delta and beta, the explosion has taken out-” “Chain reaction-” “We need to get everyone to the surface and-” The words start to blend together after a sharp pinch is felt on the side of your neck and you feel your head drop onto the soldier’s back, too heavy to keep up. Your lips keep moving, calling out for Spencer, even as you close your eyes and your body falls limp. The world once again quiet. [[You awake in a med tent]]

The soldier’s tactical vest shifts under your shaking hands as you try to claw yourself free, weakly thrashing against their hold. The pauldron digging painfully into your stomach as you attempt to wriggle off, desperate to search for Spencer. The soldier tenses and tightens their hold around your waist. “Medic, I need sedation!” “Ten comms down, no reply from delta and beta, the explosion has taken out-” “Chain reaction-” “We need to get everyone to the surface and-” The words start to blend together after a sharp pinch is felt on the side of your neck and you feel your head drop onto the soldier’s back, too heavy to keep up. Your limbs twitch and jerk faintly, still fighting to reach Spencer, even as you close your eyes. The world once again quiet. [[You awake in a med tent]]

“Go back, we need to go back,” The words are slurred and barely coherent, “Need to go back for Spencer.” Your fists pound weakly against the soldier’s tactical vest, trying to get them to turn around and save your best friend. “Please, leave me and go get $s_himher.” You plead through tears, your breathing becoming more erratic the further you get from the room. “Medic, I need sedation!” “Ten comms down, no reply from delta and beta, the explosion has taken out-” “Chain reaction-” “We need to get everyone to the surface and-” The words start to blend together after a sharp pinch is felt on the side of your neck and you feel your head drop onto the soldier’s back, too heavy to keep up. Your lips keep moving, calling out to the soldier to save Spencer, even as you close your eyes and your body falls limp. The world once again quiet. [[You awake in a med tent]]

“Patient is regaining consciousness. Inform Sergeant Bedi.” A woman says, her voice calm and her hand cool against your forehead as her gloved hand gently runs across it. You groan as you shift, the sheets beneath you scratchy and your throat dry. “Wha- where am I?” You manage to slur out, your body struggling to sit up. “You are currently in one of the medical tents set up here in Blackrock, following a devastating terrorist attack.” A man answers. You squint at the man while the woman moves to help prop you up, your body protesting the movement. He is a rather short man, dressed in rumpled military fatigues and his short hair sticks up in random angles as if he was tugging it. He moves slowly towards your cot, an impassive expression on his face. “Ten minutes, Sergeant Bedi. The patient is still a minor and requires rest.” The woman reminds him, her mouth pinched as she leaves your side, her grey hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her military fatigues were covered in blood and dirt. Sergeant Bedi nods, sitting on the small stool next to your cot where the medic must have sat previously. Begrudgingly the medic leaves, moving to attend to other patients. [[He throws his holopad onto your lap]]

Your feet pound against the floor as you sprint towards the room, your lungs screaming as you push yourself, heart in your throat as the commander’s words rattle around your skull. //I need to get Spencer out of here. Something isn’t right//, you chant, using the words to force your legs to move faster. The room is coming into view; the grunts and angry cries of the room's occupants reverberating through the tunnel and around you. At first, you mistake trembling earth as the vibrations of the furious bodies clashing together, civilians and soldiers brawling across the room. But then, your feet are almost taken out from beneath you with the next tremor. You crash against the tunnel wall as the earth shakes and cracks beneath and above you. Then suddenly you hear multiple deafening booms, explosions going off one after the other. “EVACUATE, EVACUATE FOR FUCKS SAKE!” “Spencer!” $s_HisHer name is howled in fear as you fight to run into the room, your feet slipping and sliding across the ground as you try to avoid the falling debris and chunks of ceiling and wall. Your eyes burn as dust fills the air from the explosion. “Spencer!” You call again, bursting into the room, searching the room for any sign of your best friend. “Save as many as you can!” A soldier shouts, straining their voice to be heard of the cries of agony and cracking cement. Through blurry eyes you watch as soldiers and civilians work together to escape the chaos, dragging bodies across the jagged terrain and helping to free the trapped limbs of others. The room’s ceiling has caved in, the room split in half by a makeshift wall of rubble, debris and electrical cables lashing out like hissing snakes. You stumble forward and feel your vocal cords pull taunt as you scream Spencer’s name over and over again, your nails breaking as you dig through the broken bodies and rubble. Your knees slam against the uneven terrain as you crawl and tear into the debris, desperately trying to find a way through the newly erected barrier. The skin around your fingers is torn and bleeding as you claw and dig. The pain dulled by the adrenaline racing through your system. But it was not enough to block out the blinding pain of a rock smashing over your head. Spencer your last thought as you slip into darkness. [[You awake in a med tent]]

The holopad lands on your lap with a soft thud and you are faced with a news report. The screen shows helicopters, tanks and emergency vehicles swarming the outer edges of Smolder. Homes have collapsed and roads destroyed as the ground below seems to have caved in, you see bodies being carried out on stretchers and children crying in the arms of officers and soldiers. There are bodies covered by white sheets visible at the edges of the camera view, the cameraman panning the camera over the area before settling on Smolder’s shared wall with Blackrock. There are large chunks missing and cracks litter the surface. Soldiers have been deployed to the wall to prevent exilliums from taking advantage of its weakened state. “A recent bombing has left two hundred people injured, thirty people hospitalised and five people dead, although there are reports that this will not be the final number. The terrorist group Thaden’s Eyes' use of explosives to ensure their escape during the early hours of the morning has led to an unprecedented tragedy in Smolder.” “The explosives have collapsed the underground maintenance tunnels in Blackrock and led to a devastating chain reaction that affected the homes, streets and business of Smolder.” The reporter continues to speak, “Earlier today the officers and soldiers of Smolder tried to capture the group after finding evidence of their involvement in the bombings of the Waterhaven district that took place just last week. Currently the officers and soldiers have not issued a statement regarding the situation.” “That’s-” You cough, your words sticking inside your throat, “That’s wrong!” You try to continue but coughs wrack your body, your dry throat preventing you from speaking more. Sergeant Bedi pours a glass of water from the side table and hands it to you. [[“Then what is the truth?”]]

The lukewarm water is a welcome distraction and you sip it slowly, using the time to gather your thoughts. “The explosion at Waterhaven, it was done by a separate group. Thaden’s Eye is a fringe group, the people at the meeting don’t believe in using violence.” You speak cautiously, watching Sergeant Bedi’s face for any reaction. “Then how do you explain the explosion tonight?” You lick your lips, the dry and split skin burning at the sudden contact and you fight to keep a grimace off your face. “I- I don’t know. Maybe…” You pause, trying to recall the events and find a reason for the explosion. <fieldset>\ [[• Say Thaden’s Eye infiltrated the meeting]] [[• Say the explosion’s origin was somewhere else]] <<if $followcaptain is true>> [[• Say something was wrong, Captain Nevos knew]]<<elseif $followcaptain is false>> Choice unavailable<</if>>\ </fieldset>\

“Maybe… Thaden’s Eye infiltrated the meeting,” Your fingers squeeze the glass of water, grounding yourself. “That would explain the bombs. The people in the room… they just wanted to change things. But not through violence, they didn’t believe in that.” You stumble through your explanation, the words difficult to string together through the pain needling your brain and body. “I see.” An uncomfortable silence follows those two words. You shift in the cot, wishing the medic would return. Sergeant Bedi leans forward and swipes at his holopad, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen as he flicks through, until he finally finds what he was searching for. Pushing the holopad towards you, you are greeted by Spencer’s face on the screen, Sergeant Bedi showing you the records kept by the orphanage. “Every orphanage is responsible for the education and care of the children entrusted to them by the state. This includes annual physical and mental assessments made by an allocated psychologist.” You cautiously watch Sergeant Bedi, unsure why he was showing you this. “A psychologist here states in her latest report something rather interesting.” <fieldset>\ [[• Spencer Fawkes displays strong romantic feelings for subject - Set Spencer as having romantic love for you]] [[• Spencer Fawkes displays a strong familial bond with subject - Set Spencer as having familial love for you]] </fieldset>\

“Maybe… The source of the explosion was further in Blackrock,” Your fingers squeeze the glass of water, grounding yourself. “The media said it was a chain reaction, what if the meeting was just another casualty? The people in the room… they just wanted to change things. But not through violence, they didn’t believe in that.” You stumble through your explanation, the words difficult to string together through the pain needling your brain and body. “I see.” An uncomfortable silence follows those two words. You shift in the cot, wishing the medic would return. Sergeant Bedi leans forward and swipes at his holopad, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen as he flicks through, until he finally finds what he was searching for. Pushing the holopad towards you, you are greeted by Spencer’s face on the screen, Sergeant Bedi showing you the records kept by the orphanage. “Every orphanage is responsible for the education and care of the children entrusted to them by the state. This includes annual physical and mental assessments made by an allocated psychologist.” You cautiously watch Sergeant Bedi, unsure why he was showing you this. “A psychologist here states in her latest report something rather interesting.” <fieldset>\ [[• Spencer Fawkes displays strong romantic feelings for subject - Set Spencer as having romantic love for you]] [[• Spencer Fawkes displays a strong familial bond with subject - Set Spencer as having familial love for you]] </fieldset>\

“Maybe… Captain Nevos was right. Something else was going on,” Your fingers squeeze the glass of water, grounding yourself. “He suspected that something was wrong and he asked for everyone to be evacuated.” You stumble through your explanation, the words difficult to string together through the pain needling your brain and body. But your voice strengthens as you slowly piece together the events. “He wouldn’t call for an evacuation if he didn’t think something terrible was going to happen. And he was right, if he didn’t release us, more would have died. It was like he knew-” “Enough.” Sergeant Bedi’s voice is like ice, his voice freezing you mid-sentence. “I will not listen to you sprout such a nonsensical lie. You will not slander an officer in hopes of painting a terrorist group in a better light.” You open your mouth to protest but his eyes grow colder and pinch your lips together, looking away. An uncomfortable silence follows his words. You shift in the cot, wishing the medic would return. Sergeant Bedi leans forward and swipes at his holopad, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen as he flicks through, until he finally finds what he was searching for. Pushing the holopad towards you, you are greeted by Spencer’s face on the screen, Sergeant Bedi showing you the records kept by the orphanage. “Every orphanage is responsible for the education and care of the children entrusted to them by the state. This includes annual physical and mental assessments made by an allocated psychologist.” You cautiously watch Sergeant Bedi, unsure why he was showing you this. “A psychologist here states in her latest report something rather interesting.” <fieldset>\ [[• Spencer Fawkes displays strong romantic feelings for subject - Set Spencer as having romantic love for you]] [[• Spencer Fawkes displays a strong familial bond with subject - Set Spencer as having familial love for you]] </fieldset>\

//Spencer Fawkes displays strong romantic feelings for $name $surname and I would recommend separating $s_himher from $name. If they were to attend the same academy, it is likely Spencer would always prioritise $name over other squad members and mission objectives. While both parties have shown great talent in their chosen field, keeping them together would be detrimental to their growth as soldiers.// The words remain present even when you close your eyes, ‘romantic feelings’ burnt into the back of your eyelids. //Is it true? Did Spencer feel the same all this time?// “Spencer was there. At the meeting.” You stop breathing, every muscle in your body tensing as you listen to Sergeant Bedi speak. “How do we know what you’re saying is not just to protect your ‘best friend’?” His tone shifts from nonchalance to a colder inflection. “Would you protect a terrorist, $name?” “Spencer is not a terrorist!” “Sergeant! Ten minutes is up. My patient needs to rest.” The medic rushes over, hearing your scream, your body curled up on the cot in the aftermath. Your sudden movement caused a blinding flash of pain to surge through you. Sergeant Bedi slowly stands, picking up his holopad that has fallen to the floor during the commotion. “One last thing.” The medic glares but allows him to continue. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident. Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is swiping through his holopad again. “You will be attending Buchholz Academy, I have your acceptance letter here.” <fieldset>\ [[• The acceptance letter praises your quick thinking and leadership skills]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your quick thinking and teamwork]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your quick thinking and comments on your independent nature]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your athletic prowess and leadership skills]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your athletic prowess and teamwork]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your athletic prowess and comments on your independent nature]] </fieldset>\ <<set $spencerromance to true>>

//Spencer Fawkes displays a strong familial bond with $name $surname and I would recommend separating $s_himher from $name. If they were to attend the same academy, it is likely Spencer would always prioritise $name over other squad members and mission objectives. While both parties have shown great talent in their chosen field, keeping them together would be detrimental to their growth as soldiers.// Your eyes soften and a small smile appears on your face as you read the words, ‘strong familial bond’, your fingers tracing the words on the holopad. “Spencer was there. At the meeting.” You stop breathing, every muscle in your body tensing as you listen to Sergeant Bedi speak. “How do we know what you’re saying is not just to protect what is left of your family?” His tone shifts from nonchalance to a colder inflection. “Would you protect a terrorist, $name?” “Spencer is not a terrorist!” “Sergeant! Ten minutes is up. My patient needs to rest.” The medic rushes over, hearing your scream, your body curled up on the cot in the aftermath. Your sudden movement caused a blinding flash of pain to surge through you. Sergeant Bedi slowly stands, picking up his holopad that has fallen to the floor during the commotion. “One last thing.” The medic glares but allows him to continue. “The draft date has been pushed up because of this incident. Your year will be entering their designated academies tomorrow.” Your head snaps up, eyes staring at Sergeant Bedi who is swiping through his holopad again. “You will be attending Buchholz Academy, I have your acceptance letter here.” <fieldset>\ [[• The acceptance letter praises your quick thinking and leadership skills]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your quick thinking and teamwork]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your quick thinking and comments on your independent nature]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your athletic prowess and leadership skills]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your athletic prowess and teamwork]] [[• The acceptance letter praises your athletic prowess and comments on your independent nature]] </fieldset>\ <<set $spencerfamily to true>>

You quickly scan the acceptance letter, noting that your teachers wrote glowing letters of recommendation to the academy, praising your quick thinking and leadership skills. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to the next rising star of the military. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, noting that you have finished reading the letter, “Which makes it all the more unfortunate that you were unable to live up to their expectations.” He slips his holopad into his pocket and moves to leave. “Before I forget,” He stops, glancing over his shoulder, “Do not believe you have escaped unscathed. Starting from today you will be placed under watch by our counter terrorist unit. Your movements will be monitored, your records open for viewing and your progress through the academy and your enlistment tracked.” His lips pull into a cold smile, “Another incident like this will not be tolerated.” You watch him leave the tent, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from getting the last word. The medic gently pushes you back, checking your bandages and placing a new pain relief patch on your arm. “Rest now, dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The combination of her cool hands and soft voice is enough to ease you back into the cot, your eyes drooping as the patch kicks in. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “A lovely gentleman told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your pink elephant plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your pink elephant was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “A lovely lady told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your blue dog plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your blue dog was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and the medic is consumed by darkness, becoming a writhing and pulsating mass. The creature of darkness stalks towards you, limbs snapping and twisting as it bears down onto you, your body frozen on the cot, mouse clutched to your chest. You try to roll out of the cot, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]] <<set $tactician +=2>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\ <<set $MCterrorist to true>>\

You quickly scan the acceptance letter, noting that your teachers wrote glowing letters of recommendation to the academy, praising your quick thinking and teamwork. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to you becoming a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, noting that you have finished reading the letter, “Which makes it all the more unfortunate that you were unable to live up to their expectations.” He slips his holopad into his pocket and moves to leave. “Before I forget,” He stops, glancing over his shoulder, “Do not believe you have escaped unscathed. Starting from today you will be placed under watch by our counter terrorist unit. Your movements will be monitored, your records open for viewing and your progress through the academy and your enlistment tracked.” His lips pull into a cold smile, “Another incident like this will not be tolerated.” You watch him leave the tent, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from getting the last word. The medic gently pushes you back, checking your bandages and placing a new pain relief patch on your arm. “Rest now, dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The combination of her cool hands and soft voice is enough to ease you back into the cot, your eyes drooping as the patch kicks in. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “A lovely gentleman told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your pink elephant plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your pink elephant was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “A lovely lady told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your blue dog plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your blue dog was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and the medic is consumed by darkness, becoming a writhing and pulsating mass. The creature of darkness stalks towards you, limbs snapping and twisting as it bears down onto you, your body frozen on the cot, mouse clutched to your chest. You try to roll out of the cot, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]] <<set $tactician +=2>> <<set $MCterrorist to true>>\

You quickly scan the acceptance letter, noting that your teachers wrote glowing letters of recommendation to the academy, praising your quick thinking and noting that you preferred to work alone and that additional training and instruction would be required to integrate you into the system. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that if you were guided properly, you could become a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, noting that you have finished reading the letter, “Which makes it all the more unfortunate that you were unable to live up to their expectations.” He slips his holopad into his pocket and moves to leave. “Before I forget,” He stops, glancing over his shoulder, “Do not believe you have escaped unscathed. Starting from today you will be placed under watch by our counter terrorist unit. Your movements will be monitored, your records open for viewing and your progress through the academy and your enlistment tracked.” His lips pull into a cold smile, “Another incident like this will not be tolerated.” You watch him leave the tent, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from getting the last word. The medic gently pushes you back, checking your bandages and placing a new pain relief patch on your arm. “Rest now, dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The combination of her cool hands and soft voice is enough to ease you back into the cot, your eyes drooping as the patch kicks in. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “A lovely gentleman told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your pink elephant plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your pink elephant was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “A lovely lady told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your blue dog plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your blue dog was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and the medic is consumed by darkness, becoming a writhing and pulsating mass. The creature of darkness stalks towards you, limbs snapping and twisting as it bears down onto you, your body frozen on the cot, mouse clutched to your chest. You try to roll out of the cot, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]] <<set $tactician +=2>> <<set $MCterrorist to true>>\

You quickly scan the acceptance letter, noting that your teachers wrote glowing letters of recommendation to the academy, praising your athletic prowess and leadership skills. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to the next rising star of the military. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, noting that you have finished reading the letter, “Which makes it all the more unfortunate that you were unable to live up to their expectations.” He slips his holopad into his pocket and moves to leave. “Before I forget,” He stops, glancing over his shoulder, “Do not believe you have escaped unscathed. Starting from today you will be placed under watch by our counter terrorist unit. Your movements will be monitored, your records open for viewing and your progress through the academy and your enlistment tracked.” His lips pull into a cold smile, “Another incident like this will not be tolerated.” You watch him leave the tent, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from getting the last word. The medic gently pushes you back, checking your bandages and placing a new pain relief patch on your arm. “Rest now, dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The combination of her cool hands and soft voice is enough to ease you back into the cot, your eyes drooping as the patch kicks in. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “A lovely gentleman told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your pink elephant plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your pink elephant was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “A lovely lady told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your blue dog plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your blue dog was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and the medic is consumed by darkness, becoming a writhing and pulsating mass. The creature of darkness stalks towards you, limbs snapping and twisting as it bears down onto you, your body frozen on the cot, mouse clutched to your chest. You try to roll out of the cot, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]] <<set $combat +=2>> <<set $playerleadership +=5>>\ <<set $MCterrorist to true>>\

You quickly scan the acceptance letter, noting that your teachers wrote glowing letters of recommendation to the academy, praising your athletic prowess and teamwork. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that your potential, if nurtured, could lead to you becoming a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, noting that you have finished reading the letter, “Which makes it all the more unfortunate that you were unable to live up to their expectations.” He slips his holopad into his pocket and moves to leave. “Before I forget,” He stops, glancing over his shoulder, “Do not believe you have escaped unscathed. Starting from today you will be placed under watch by our counter terrorist unit. Your movements will be monitored, your records open for viewing and your progress through the academy and your enlistment tracked.” His lips pull into a cold smile, “Another incident like this will not be tolerated.” You watch him leave the tent, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from getting the last word. The medic gently pushes you back, checking your bandages and placing a new pain relief patch on your arm. “Rest now, dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The combination of her cool hands and soft voice is enough to ease you back into the cot, your eyes drooping as the patch kicks in. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “A lovely gentleman told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your pink elephant plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your pink elephant was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “A lovely lady told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your blue dog plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your blue dog was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and the medic is consumed by darkness, becoming a writhing and pulsating mass. The creature of darkness stalks towards you, limbs snapping and twisting as it bears down onto you, your body frozen on the cot, mouse clutched to your chest. You try to roll out of the cot, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]] <<set $combat +=2>> <<set $MCterrorist to true>>\

You quickly scan the acceptance letter, noting that your teachers wrote glowing letters of recommendation to the academy, praising your athletic prowess and noting that you preferred to work alone and that additional training and instruction would be required to integrate you into the system. They have recommended that you attend Buchholz Academy, the largest and most prestigious academy in Voxis, stating that if you were guided properly, you could become a great soldier. “As you can see, you are highly regarded by your school, and we take their recommendations seriously.” Sergeant Bedi starts to speak, noting that you have finished reading the letter, “Which makes it all the more unfortunate that you were unable to live up to their expectations.” He slips his holopad into his pocket and moves to leave. “Before I forget,” He stops, glancing over his shoulder, “Do not believe you have escaped unscathed. Starting from today you will be placed under watch by our counter terrorist unit. Your movements will be monitored, your records open for viewing and your progress through the academy and your enlistment tracked.” His lips pull into a cold smile, “Another incident like this will not be tolerated.” You watch him leave the tent, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from getting the last word. The medic gently pushes you back, checking your bandages and placing a new pain relief patch on your arm. “Rest now, dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The combination of her cool hands and soft voice is enough to ease you back into the cot, your eyes drooping as the patch kicks in. <<if $pinkelephant is true>> “A lovely gentleman told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your pink elephant plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your pink elephant was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<<elseif $bluedog is true>> “A lovely lady told me this was yours. Hopefully this will help you rest.” The medic brings in your backpack and through the torn fabric you see your blue dog plushie and… mouse? You roll over sluggishly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you open your backpack. Snuggled against your blue dog was Spencer’s grey mouse plushie. You carefully pull the mouse plushie out from your bag, running your hand across the soot and dirt covered fur. “Thank you,” You mumble, your face pressed into the plushie’s fur, tears threatening to wet the fur.<</if>> The memory starts to distort and the medic is consumed by darkness, becoming a writhing and pulsating mass. The creature of darkness stalks towards you, limbs snapping and twisting as it bears down onto you, your body frozen on the cot, mouse clutched to your chest. You try to roll out of the cot, to run, but the darkness latches onto your body, like a cold and suffocating leech that slowly climbs up your body. No matter how much you struggle your body cannot escape its hold, your mouth opens to scream for help but is blocked by the darkness burrowing in. “... W A K E...” You choke and gag, trying to desperately expel it but it delves further into your body and buries its claws inside of you. Your body feels on fire as you feel your muscles convulse and your bones break and reform. The darkness is making you anew, staining everything within in its essence. The voice repeats itself, louder, piercing through the haze of pain “WAKE” And wake you did. [[Continue|Chapter Two]] <<set $combat +=2>> <<set $MCterrorist to true>>\

You grit your teeth and start to climb, your eyes darting around, scanning for those you can help. There are two people near you, fellow academy students, struggling to navigate the rocky terrain. You calculate the odds of helping them and still being able to escape yourself. The outlook was grim. You could help, but run the risk of endangering your own life, or focus on your own escape and hope their training will ensure their survival. The earth shakes and you feel your hands slip. Mind made up, you start climbing, rushing to escape.Grunts fill the air as you push your muscles to their limit, sweat dripping into your eyes as you traverse the difficult terrain. Your muscles burn but you jump and press on, your body honed by years of training. Occasionally you will shout encouragement to the others, telling them to follow your path and to watch out for falling rubble. It is not long before you find yourself rolling to your feet on flat land, safely out of the pits and rocky outcrops left by the serpent. Turning back, you spot the two not too far behind, following your path, faces white and exhaustion clear. The shuttles are in clear view now, a simple hundred metre dash and you will be safe. [[But you never get to make the dash|But you never get to follow.]] <<set $combat +=5>> <<set $soldier +=5>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\ <<set $didnothelprecruits to true>>\

Through gritted teeth you struggle to keep your balance and pull out your DS, the dark blue cube slightly dented from your stumbling. You rush to press your thumb against the groove and once the holopad appears you quickly choose to release your three battle drones. Your eyes dart around, scanning for those you can help. There are two people near you, fellow academy students, struggling to navigate the rocky terrain. You calculate the odds of helping them and still being able to escape yourself. The outlook was grim. You could help, but run the risk of endangering your own life, or focus on your own escape and hope their training will ensure their survival. The earth shakes and you feel your hands slip. Mind made up, you command two of your battle drones to attach themselves to your body and you watch as they dart through the air before attaching to your arms and back. Silver insect-like limbs come into your view as the drone on your back stretches out and helps propel you across the rocky outcrops. Meanwhile the battle drones on your arms have molded themselves into talon-like gloves, making it easier for you to grab and hold onto the terrain while climbing. Grunts fill the air as you push your muscles to their limit, sweat dripping into your eyes as you traverse the difficult terrain. However, you manage to power through the worst of the new rocky outcrops, the battle drones working to supplement any strength you lack by acting as extra limbs. Occasionally you will shout encouragement to the others, your drone helping them best as it can. Your drone helps them find the best paths to travel and boosts them when it can. It is not long before you find yourself finally on flat land. Your battle drones lift off, disappearing back into your DS. Turning back, you spot the two not too far behind, following your path, faces white and exhaustion clear. The shuttles are in clear view now, a simple hundred metre dash and you will be safe. [[But you never get to make the dash|But you never get to follow.]] <<set $tactician +=5>> <<set $soldier +=5>>\ <<set $playerleadership +=2>>\ <<set $didnothelprecruits to true>>\

“It’s good to see you awake and well, $name.” She says, her voice sweet and light, a gentle smile on her face. “My name is Arabella Hendricks, Lieutenant Commander of the Voxis Soulforge Order.” You feel your eyebrows raise at her rank, then furrow as your eyes dart between her and Will. //Why are two high-ranking soulforge warriors in my room? Better yet… why was I under guard?// Your thoughts must be written across your face because soon Arabella speaks again, answering your unspoken question. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Her voice takes on a softer tone, “And I am more than happy to answer them.” There is a pause as if she was choosing the right words to say, “But, I can only answer your questions once a soul scourge scan has been conducted. I -” //Soul Scourge?// “What?!” You blurt out, blood rushing to your ears like a roaring tidal wave, battering against your eardrums and deafening you. Your hands shake as you tug at your hospital gown, clumsily pulling at the rough blue material, a choked gasp leaving your lips as your trembling fingers trace the puckered and black veined scar on your torso. It’s a horrific sight. The scar stretches across your stomach, two hands wide, and the skin is gnarled and twisted as if stitched together and then cauterised. The puckered flesh has a strange black tinge to it, and the veins around the scar are black. When your fingers touch the healed tissue, you find it disturbingly cold. A warm hand wraps itself around your wrist gently, pulling your trembling hand away from your scar. “Deep breaths, $name. Breathe in when I squeeze your hand and breathe out when I release, okay? Focus on my hand.” You feel Arabella’s hand squeeze yours. <fieldset>\ [[• Shakily inhale, trying to fight back your panic]] [[• Hold her hand but you are lost in your thoughts]] [[• Pull away, anger replacing your fear]] [[• Flinch away from her touch]] [[• Gently pull away, calming down on your own]] </fieldset>\ <<set $haveMetAra to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Ara added<</notify>>\

Focusing on the pressure of Arabella’s hand against yours, you inhale shakily. Air fills your lungs until they burn from the stretch, your body shaking as you wait for Arabella to release her grip. When her hand finally loosens its grip, your chest collapses inwards as air rushes out of your lungs. Her voice coaxes you through breathing exercises, the soothing tone and gentle swipe of her thumb across your knuckles distracting you from the once mounting panic. “That’s right, $name. Just like that, you’re doing so well.” A few minutes pass before the roaring in your ears dissipates and your breathing returns to normal. “Are you okay?” Arabella sits carefully at the edge of your hospital bed, her body precariously balanced to not crowd you, her eyes soft and hand warm in yours. You nod, and she slowly pulls away, her warmth lingering on your palm, you watch as she rises to stand next to your bed once again. “The soul scourge scan is just a precaution. A part of the protocol.” Arabella explains gently, “You have passed the incubation period but because of how, or rather who, injured you, the doctors thought it's best to exercise vigilance.” You lay your hand onto your scar, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean the incubation period has passed?” How long have I been unconscious?” You’ve heard horror stories about soldiers and civilians affected by the strange black venom of exilliums. The tar-like ichor that pours out of their mouths and wounds acts like the venom of a poisonous snake. Once it entered the body of a human or animal, it ravaged them. They called the phenomenon, soul scourge because the pain was described as soul-destroying. Those infected experienced excruciating pain that not only targeted the body but the mind as well. Doctors warned people that the first symptoms of the affliction were paranoia and hallucinations, the venom targeting the brain first. As it progressed, the afflicted person would have bouts of aggression and then finally seizures would ravage the body. Seizure after seizure would rip through them until their body could not withstand the assault and perished. It was chilling to learn about it in the academy. The instructors said that a person normally showed signs within three to seven days of contact. There was no known cure. Arabella hesitates, her eyes darting to Will, who answers her questioning glance with a reassuring nod. “You have been in a coma for two months.” It was like being hit with a taser, her words stunning you into silence. [[“Two months?”]]

Subconsciously, your fingers curl around Arabella’s, using her hand as an anchor point, surprised by the callouses that you feel on her palm as you squeeze her hand. Her voice is distant, barely comprehensible, as you find your mind drifting. Thoughts swirling around like a shaken snow globe, a thousand thoughts overwhelming you and difficult to pin down. //What happened after I passed out? Who saved me? Am I really not infected?// You plunge yourself into your thoughts, trying to wrap your mind around your situation. However, before you can spiral, you are pulled out of your thoughts by a sharp pinch to your hand. Your eyes snap towards Arabella, a curse ready on your lips, but you are cut off by her soft words. “Sorry, but I could see you becoming lost in your mind.” She soothes the pinched skin of your hand with her thumb, gently running her thumb over the pinched area, the pain easing away. “The soul scourge scan is just a precaution. A part of protocol.” Arabella explains gently. “You have passed the incubation period but because of how, or rather who, injured you, the doctors thought it's best to exercise vigilance.” You lay your hand onto your scar, eyebrows furrowed. She slowly pulls away, her warmth lingering on your palm, and you watch as she rises to stand next to your bed once again. “What do you mean the incubation period has passed?” How long have I been unconscious?” You’ve heard horror stories about soldiers and civilians affected by the strange black venom of exilliums. The tar-like ichor that pours out of their mouths and wounds acts like the venom of a poisonous snake. Once it entered the body of a human or animal, it ravaged them. They called the phenomenon, soul scourge because the pain was described as soul-destroying. Those infected experienced excruciating pain that not only targeted the body but the mind as well. Doctors warned people that the first symptoms of the affliction were paranoia and hallucinations, the venom targeting the brain first. As it progressed, the afflicted person would have bouts of aggression and then finally seizures would ravage the body. Seizure after seizure would rip through them until their body could not withstand the assault and perished. It was chilling to learn about it in the academy. The instructors said that a person normally showed signs within three to seven days of contact. There was no known cure. Arabella hesitates, her eyes darting to Will, who answers her questioning glance with a reassuring nod. “You have been in a coma for two months.” It was like being hit with a taser, her words stunning you into silence. [[“Two months?”]]

You tear your hand away, anger flooding your body, “I don’t need your comfort, I need answers!” Your words are spat out and your body is tense as you glare up at Arabella, “Why were there guards in my room? Why are you doing my scan and not a doctor?” The room simmers with tension as you glare at Arabella, your hands clenching around the rough hospital sheets. Will steps away from the wall, his easy smile falling away, but his approach to the bed is halted by Arabella, waving him away, her eyes never leaving your face. You see him immediately retreat to the wall, nodding at Arabella, his body relaxing once again but his eyes never leaving you. “I’m sorry, $name. This must be overwhelming for you. I promise I am not trying to keep you in the dark.” She moves a step back to give you more space, her hands folded in front of her so you can see them. “The soul scourge scan is just a precaution. A part of protocol.” Arabella explains gently. “You have passed the incubation period but because of how, or rather who, injured you, the doctors thought it's best to exercise vigilance.” You lay your hand onto your scar, eyebrows furrowed. “Guards were placed in your room because no one was sure whether you would hurt yourself or others once you woke up. It is the same reason why we are here instead of a doctor.” “What do you mean the incubation period has passed?” How long have I been unconscious?” You’ve heard horror stories about soldiers and civilians affected by the strange black venom of exilliums. The tar-like ichor that pours out of their mouths and wounds acts like the venom of a poisonous snake. Once it entered the body of a human or animal, it ravaged them. They called the phenomenon, soul scourge because the pain was described as soul-destroying. Those infected experienced excruciating pain that not only targeted the body but the mind as well. Doctors warned people that the first symptoms of the affliction were paranoia and hallucinations, the venom targeting the brain first. As it progressed, the afflicted person would have bouts of aggression and then finally seizures would ravage the body. Seizure after seizure would rip through them until their body could not withstand the assault and perished. It was chilling to learn about it in the academy. The instructors said that a person normally showed signs within three to seven days of contact. There was no known cure. Arabella hesitates, her eyes darting to Will, who answers her questioning glance with a reassuring nod. “You have been in a coma for two months.” It was like being hit with a taser, her words stunning you into silence. [[“Two months?”]] <<set $arahesitatetouch to true>> <<set $feedanger +=2>>

At the contact you flinch away, the needle in your arm pinching at your sudden jerky movement, and you hiss in pain at the pinch. Arabella immediately moves away, exiting your space and keeping her hands in front of her body so you can see them. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before touching you. I’ll be more mindful in the future.” Her face is remorseful, and she folds her hands in front of her body. You run your thumb over the bandage in the crook of your left arm, blood dotting the bandage that holds the IV needle in place. The sharp pain has distracted you from your previous thoughts, and now you eye Arabella and Will warily. “Why are you administering the scan and not a doctor?” You question. “You have passed the incubation period but because of how, or rather who, injured you, the doctors thought it's best to exercise vigilance.” You lay your hand onto your scar, eyebrows furrowed. “No one was sure whether you would hurt yourself or others once you woke up. The potency of an S-Class venom has never been seen before, so we were brought in as a precaution.” Arabella explains gently. “What do you mean the incubation period has passed?” How long have I been unconscious?” You’ve heard horror stories about soldiers and civilians affected by the strange black venom of exilliums. The tar-like ichor that pours out of their mouths and wounds acts like the venom of a poisonous snake. Once it entered the body of a human or animal, it ravaged them. They called the phenomenon, soul scourge because the pain was described as soul-destroying. Those infected experienced excruciating pain that not only targeted the body but the mind as well. Doctors warned people that the first symptoms of the affliction were paranoia and hallucinations, the venom targeting the brain first. As it progressed, the afflicted person would have bouts of aggression and then finally seizures would ravage the body. Seizure after seizure would rip through them until their body could not withstand the assault and perished. It was chilling to learn about it in the academy. The instructors said that a person normally showed signs within three to seven days of contact. There was no known cure. Arabella hesitates, her eyes darting to Will, who answers her questioning glance with a reassuring nod. “You have been in a coma for two months.” It was like being hit with a taser, her words stunning you into silence. [[“Two months?”]] <<set $arahesitatetouch to true>>

You squeeze Arabella’s hand once before gently pulling away, the warmth of her hand lingering on your skin as you free your hand from her grasp. You nod gratefully at her before saying, “Thank you, but I am okay now. I was just… taken aback.” Will snorts a low chuckle escaping as he observes the scene. “I think ?he got you beat in the calm and unbothered department, Ara.” Arabella rolls her eyes good-naturedly, the corner of her lip lifting in amusement. “Thank you for your insight, //Commander.//” She drawled, not bothering to turn around and face his wide grin pointed at her back. Arabella is back on her feet, standing next to your bed once again, her voice calm as she begins to explain the situation. “The soul scourge scan is just a precaution. A part of protocol.” Her voice is measured and soothing, “You have passed the incubation period but because of how, or rather who, injured you, the doctors thought it's best to exercise vigilance.” You lay your hand onto your scar, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean the incubation period has passed?” How long have I been unconscious?” You’ve heard horror stories about soldiers and civilians affected by the strange black venom of exilliums. The tar-like ichor that pours out of their mouths and wounds acts like the venom of a poisonous snake. Once it entered the body of a human or animal, it ravaged them. They called the phenomenon, soul scourge because the pain was described as soul-destroying. Those infected experienced excruciating pain that not only targeted the body but the mind as well. Doctors warned people that the first symptoms of the affliction were paranoia and hallucinations, the venom targeting the brain first. As it progressed, the afflicted person would have bouts of aggression and then finally seizures would ravage the body. Seizure after seizure would rip through them until their body could not withstand the assault and perished. It was chilling to learn about it in the academy. The instructors said that a person normally showed signs within three to seven days of contact. There was no known cure. Arabella hesitates, her eyes darting to Will, who answers her questioning glance with a reassuring nod. “You have been in a coma for two months.” It was like being hit with a taser, her words stunning you into silence. [[“Two months?”]]

<strong>Age:</strong> 26 <strong>Height:</strong> 5'8" <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 3111/01/31 <strong>Current Rank:</strong> Senior Drill Sergeant No one dares to speak against Drill Sergeant Rothman. Mina takes her job of training freshly recruited Soulforge soldiers very seriously. She has vowed that no soldier will die under her watch and she intends to keep that promise. Her closest and only friend is Will. She fights to keep people from growing too close. What is she afraid of? Appearance: Mina has strawberry blonde hair that is styled into a fishtail braid and extends midway down her back. Her fair, light brown freckled skin is often sunburnt. Her nose bridge, a little crooked, has smatterings of brown freckles that lighten as they move down her cheeks and towards her ears. It highlights her diamond shaped face. Her shoulders are almost always tinged red and dark brown freckles are scattered across her shoulders and neck. Mina has an athletic build with defined muscles seen in her legs and arms. Her sea green eyes hold a stern look as she purses her pink lips. <strong>Relationship</strong> /* render the player's relationship bar */ <<showmeter '$minarelationshipBar' `$minarelationship / $maxminaRelationship`>> [[Back|Characters]]

Disbelief colours your words, mouth gaping as you stare at Will and Arabella. You expected a week, maybe two, but two months? “Has two months really passed?” You croak out, unwilling to accept the words. Arabella’s face softens as she says, “Yes. The doctors were baffled by your condition.” “Your injuries healed, unnaturally fast based on the reports written by the doctors, yet you refused to wake up. You were scanned daily, sometimes three times a day, for any traces of soul scourge, but you always showed up as negative. It threw the doctors for a loop. There are faint traces of exillium resonance in your bloodstream but apparently not enough to infect you.” “You’re extremely lucky.” She smiles, a sincere and compassionate smile, “Not only did you survive a direct attack from an S-Class exillium - something few people can say - but you came out of the attack infection-free.” Arabella’s words wash over you as your eyes remain fixated on your hidden scar. “They were unsure whether that would change when you awoke, hence the scan.” You slowly nod to show you are listening, your mind struggling to wrap itself around the new information. “Can I proceed with the scan?” Arabella asks, patiently awaiting your response. You give a curt nod, hands clenching around the hospital bedsheets as you watch Arabella’s hand sweep across her left wrist. [[A device whirrs to life on her wrist]]

The nano-armour around her left wrist parts and reveals a watch-like device that whirrs to life when her right hand sweeps across it. It expands, stretching over the nano-armour, and multiple screens spring into existence. “SCOUT, connect to the Soul Scourge Detection Machine, please,” Arabella asks politely, and you tilt your head in confusion, unsure who she is speaking to until a robotic voice answers her. “Of course, connecting to Voxis Army Medical Centre’s mainframe. Standby.” The holo-screens flash strings of numbers and words at a dizzyingly fast rate across the screens as a connection is established. With a ping, the connection is secured, “Connection established, SSDM activated, patient is instructed not to move to ensure an accurate reading.” The middle tiles of the room ceiling abruptly shift as a machine slowly lowers, the satellite-like dish twisting to face you. There is a low hum before a blue light shoots out, running across your body, the humming noise intensifying as your body is illuminated. Will moves away from the wall, now standing next to Arabella, interest clear in his eyes as he stares at the holo-screens hovering above her wrist. Arabella’s fingers skip over the screens, typing and rotating the data that jumps across the screens. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a model of your body appear on one of the screens, and you watch as Arabella taps the model and a 3D render of your body floats in front of the pair. She pinches and then parts her fingers around the torso of the model, and you watch as the model expands, zooming in and highlighting the strange network of dark veins around your scar. “Exillium resonance still present, centred around the torso, but soul scourge not detected.” She murmurs to herself, her eyes squinting behind her glasses. “SCOUT, report to Doctor Snyman that $name $surname shows no signs of soul scourge. The patient is safe, and the hospital is to switch to the original patient care protocol.” Arabella’s voice takes on a crisp and professional tone. “Understood.” SCOUT chimes, and you relax into the bed as the machine ascends, disappearing into the ceiling. “You have been cleared, and as promised, I can answer any questions you may have before the doctor arrives to examine you.” Arabella sweeps her hand across her wrist once again, and you watch as the device collapses and disappears under her nano-armour. Her attention is fully focused on you. <fieldset>\ [[• “What happened after the attack?”]] [[• “How did I survive?”]] [[• “When the S-Class attacked me… it spoke to me. Is that normal?”]] <<if $exilliumspeak is true>>[[• “Did the S-Class say anything to you, Commander Strang?]]<</if>>\ <<if $attackinfo is true>>[[• The door slides open, interrupting the conversation]]<<elseif $howsurvive is true>>[[• The door slides open, interrupting the conversation]]<<elseif $exilliumspeak is true>>[[• The door slides open, interrupting the conversation]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\

“What happened after the attack?” You address the question to Arabella and Will, watching the pair share a silent conversation through raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Will clears his throat and speaks, the conversation seemingly ending with them deciding it was best for him to answer. <<if $plantbeacon is true>> “With help from the additional reinforcements, we were able to get every civilian and academy student present at EVAC C evacuated.” Will says with a grin, shooting a wink at you. “We were able to focus on clearing out the exillium once we knew they were safe. The S-Class retreated after its jump too so we had an easier time clearing out the remnants of its force.” <<elseif $plantbeacon is false>> “Without additional reinforcements, we were unable to get every academy student present at EVAC C evacuated.” Will runs his hand through his black hair, massaging the base of his neck as he sighs, avoiding your eyes. “The fight was… brutal. We were trying to get as many people out as we could while focusing on the exillium. We were stretched thin but thankfully when the S-Class retreated, after its jump, we had an easier time clearing out the remnants of its force.<</if>> “Steeltown Stacks won’t be habitable for a while…” Will crosses his arms over his chest and stares over your head, his lips pursed and eyes distant. Arabella rests her hand on his arm, squeezing it, her eyes conveying without words what he needs to hear, seemingly as his eyes refocus. “But we will rebuild like we always do.” “An investigation has been opened and the Voxis soulforge order branch has been placed in charge. A lot of our squadrons have been pulled from their current duties to patrol the city and seek out the S-Class. We won’t allow what happened to occur again.” Will says resolutely, a steel edge to his eyes. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]] <<set $attackinfo to true>>

“How…” You lick your dry lips, grimacing as your tongue darts over the cracked skin, “How did I survive?” Your eyes dart between the pair. Arabella speaks, her voice soft and soothing, “Units were sent in almost immediately after the soulforge squadrons cleared out the exilliums for post-combat recovery. We were not expecting many survivors-” “Or any at all,” Will cuts in. Arabella clicks her tongue at him but does not correct him, instead continuing as if she was not interrupted, “And you were found during this operation. You were immediately rushed to Voxis Army Medical Centre and treated.” Your hand traces the edges of your scar through the hospital gown, lips pursed in thought. “But how did I survive the attack? That-that thing was massive, the amount of pain I felt when its fangs pierced me, I thought I was dead.” Fear, frustration and confusion flood your voice as you recall the horrifying moment when the S-Class sank its fangs into you. The pain was as if your body was lit aflame from the inside. A shudder wracks your body as you recall it all; phantom pain causes you to dig your fingers into your gown to keep yourself grounded. “Luck.” Your head snaps up, looking towards Will. “Sometimes luck is the only thing that stands between us and death.” Will shrugs, a smirk on his face. “I’m sure you wanted to hear something else, but realistically, that is the only answer we have for you. Some people are just luckier than others.” Arabella looks away, focusing her attention on the ground. “Better not waste the universe’s goodwill and prove you deserve to be here. It’s what I do.” [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]] <<set $howsurvive to true>>

The stubborn strand on your hospital gown refuses to budge as you pick at it, using it as a distraction while you think of how to broach the topic that has been nagging at you. “When the S-Class attacked me…” You cautiously begin, “It spoke to me. Is that normal?” You watch Will and Arabella’s faces carefully. Arabella's face stutters briefly, her eyebrows flicking up before she smoothes her expression. As for Will’s face, it remains passive, not a single ripple disturbs his calm expression. “Spoke to you?” Arabella questions, “How so?” She speaks in an encouraging tone, the surprise replaced by curiosity and kindness. “It- The words were broken up. As if unused to speaking. It taunted me.” You shudder as you recall the cold, gold-slitted eyes of the S-Class exillium and the broken rasp of its voice that sunk its claws into your mind. “It mentioned something about ‘My next vessel?’” A look is exchanged between Will and Arabella. “We’ve received no reports of S-Class exilliums displaying the ability to speak. However, considering how they have been evolving over the years, it is not out of the realm of possibility that it could occur. S-Class exilliums have always showcased greater sentience… Thank you. We will be sure to report this. It’ll help in the investigation.” Arabella turns on her heel and walks towards the far side of the room, holopad out and fingers flying furiously across the hovering keyboard, her eyebrows furrowed as she sends out a message. Will breaks the tension as he digs into his nano-armour’s pocket, the strange rustling sound catching your attention. He lets out a soft ‘ah-ha!’ as he pulls out a bright green lollipop from his pocket. “You want one?” <fieldset>\ [[• “What?” Bewilderment clear]] [[• “Sure?” Hesitant]] [[• “Hell yeah!” You say eagerly]] [[• “No thanks” You say politely]] [[• Shake your head]] [[• Send him an exasperated look]] </fieldset>\ <<set $exilliumspeak to true>>

“What do you think the S-Class meant by ‘my next vessel’?” You ask, directing the question to Commander Strang, who has started to chew the lollipop in his mouth. The stick of the lollipop slowly spins around his index finger as he absent-mindedly plays with it. “Did you not hear it say anything when you were fighting it?” Frustration tinges your voice, your mind stumbling to make sense of what happened. The spinning stick stops, pinched between Will’s thumb and index finger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear anything.” He says gently, “But I promise we will look into it. As for what ‘my next vessel’ could mean… ” “We aren’t sure what the exillium could have meant by that statement. On the surface, it could be the exillium speaking of the soul scourge. By injecting you with its venom, it would be making you the next vessel of its torture. But that is all just speculation. If its speech was as broken as you said, maybe the wording was ill-chosen.” “Our best and brightest will be looking into this,” Arabella says, “Give us time. This is the first reporting of such an incident and while I wish we had more to offer you, we don’t. But you have my word that we will be working tirelessly to find an answer.” [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]] <<set $askwillexilspeak to true>>

The door opens with a soft hiss, interrupting the conversation, Arabella and Will immediately turn their attention to the man who walks in. The man is average in height and his brown hair is carefully combed to the side. He has inquisitive eyes, his pupils scanning over your body relentlessly while his ocular data lenses record his insights. “Doctor Snyman, as reported, the patient has shown no traces of soul scourge. No further intervention is necessary from our side.” Arabella reports, her sweet voice taking on a more professional air. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Hendricks.” Doctor Snyman replies, his voice carrying a measured and precise cadence. “Cadet $surname, I am Doctor Ian Snyman, I will be responsible for your care today.” His grey eyes are faintly masked by the ocular lenses that flit about over his eyes, data continuously scrolling over the small screens, yet he seems undeterred by their presence. “A brief examination will be conducted and if you are found healthy, you will be discharged.” He walks over to the wall behind your bed, placing his hand on the smooth surface. A blue shimmer appears around his hand briefly before a faint electronic beep is heard, the wall sliding apart to reveal a new machine. Slowly a mechanical arm unfurls from the machine and stretches towards you, the room’s light reflecting off the cool metal. “If not, you will be released into the general ward where further care will be provided.” He stands next to your bed, posture perfect and eyes now locked onto the three screens that have appeared in front of him. “I will take that as our cue to leave. Take care, green foot. If you’re lucky, we will see each other at the end of the week.” “End of the week?” Confusion fills your voice as you question Will but you are only answered with a cheeky wave from the Commander and a smile and wishes for a swift recovery from Arabella. [[“The Commander is likely referring to the soul trial”]]

Lieutenant Commander Hendricks stands in front of your bed with an encouraging smile, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. Her glasses slip down her nose a bit as she rocks forward, her body rocking back and forth to a melody only she can hear. “Do you have any other questions?” She asks with a smile, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as her smile stretches across her face. “You’ll never get someone more eager to help than Ara. Better make the most of this opportunity,” Will remarks with a teasing grin, winking at his Lieutenant Commander. She rolls her eyes in response, puffing out her cheeks as she replies, “Some of us like to help people and aren’t here just to avoid paperwork.” Will holds his hands up in a placating manner, batting his eyelashes. “I would never use you as an excuse, $name. Go on, you can ask Ara and I anything.” <fieldset>\ <<if $attackinfo is false>>[[• “What happened after the attack?”]]<<elseif $attackinfo is true>>“What happened after the attack?”<</if>> <<if $howsurvive is false>>[[• “How did I survive?”]]<<elseif $howsurvive is true>>"How did I survive?"<</if>> <<if $exilliumspeak is false>>[[• “When the S-Class attacked me… it spoke to me. Is that normal?”]]<<elseif $exilliumspeak is true>>“When the S-Class attacked me… it spoke to me. Is that normal?”<</if>> <<if $exilliumspeak is true and $askwillexilspeak is false>>[[• “Did the S-Class say anything to you, Commander Strang?]]<<elseif $exilliumspeak is true and $askwillexilspeak is true>>“Did the S-Class say anything to you, Commander Strang?<</if>> <<if $attackinfo is true>>[[• The door slides open, interrupting the conversation]]<<elseif $howsurvive is true>>[[• The door slides open, interrupting the conversation]]<<elseif $exilliumspeak is true>>[[• The door slides open, interrupting the conversation]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\

You stare at Will in bewilderment, your eyes darting between the green lollipop and his face. “Do you want a lollipop?” He asks again, amusement clear in his voice and in the quirk of his lip. His dark brown eyes are alight with mirth. Before you can reply, another lollipop appears, as if by magic, in his hand and he tosses it to you. The green lollipop is clumsily caught, your hands clasping awkwardly around the casually tossed sweet. “Do you usually just carry around lollipops?” You ask, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the Commander of the Voxis soulforge order branch seemingly has a readily available supply of lollipops in his pocket. “Sometimes.” Will answers, the lollipop already unwrapped and in his mouth, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for other types of sweets.” The lollipop stick shifts as he grins cheekily. “You should try it, it’s apple flavour. Best flavour there is.” You run your thumb over the crinkled plastic wrapping of the lollipop, taking in the eye-watering bright green and the small smiling faces dotted all over the packaging. “Sorry for the interruption, I wanted to send out the information to the squadrons currently out on patrol. Did I miss anything?” Arabella returns to the conversation, holopad gone. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]]

“Er…” Your eyes dart between the green lollipop and his face, “Sure?” You answer hesitantly, unsure what to make of the surreal situation. The last thing you expected when you woke up was for the Commander of the Voxis soulforge order branch to offer you a lollipop. “Think fast!” Amusement colours his voice and face as he tosses the lollipop towards you, his dark brown eyes alight with mirth. You throw your hands up, barely catching the lollipop lobbed towards your face. The green lollipop clasped awkwardly between your hands. “Do you usually just carry around lollipops?” You ask, slowly unwrapping the lollipop before popping it into your mouth. A burst of sourness and sweetness dances across your tongue as it enters your mouth. “Sometimes.” Will answers, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for other types of sweets.” The lollipop stick shifts as he grins cheekily. You run your thumb over the now empty and crinkled plastic wrapping of the lollipop, taking in the eye-watering bright green and the small smiling faces dotted all over the packaging. “Sorry for the interruption, I wanted to send out the information to the squadrons currently out on patrol. Did I miss anything?” Arabella returns to the conversation, holopad gone. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]] <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

“Hell yeah, I do,” Your hand is instantly stretched out, eagerly awaiting the promised lollipop. “I see you have great taste,” He says, amusement clear in his voice and in the quirk of his lip, his dark brown eyes alight with mirth. He places the lollipop directly into your hand, the crinkled plastic tapping against your palm. You take time to examine the lollipop’s crinkled plastic wrapping, your thumb running over the eye-watering bright green and the small smiling faces dotted all over the packaging. Once unwrapped, a burst of sourness and sweetness dances across your tongue as you place the lollipop into your mouth. “Do you usually just carry around lollipops?” You ask, tilting your head as you look at the man before you. It was difficult to envision the man who carries lollipops in his pocket as the same man who is the military’s golden boy. “Sometimes.” Will answers, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for other types of sweets.” The lollipop stick shifts as he grins cheekily. “Sorry for the interruption, I wanted to send out the information to the squadrons currently out on patrol. Did I miss anything?” Arabella returns to the conversation, holopad gone. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]] <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

You carefully fold your hands in front of you, resting them just below your scar, and straighten your posture. “No thank you,” You politely decline. Your words cause Will to raise a single eyebrow, his dark brown eyes alight with mirth as he takes in your calm demeanour. “Not a fan of Apple?” He teases, shaking the eye-watering bright green lollipop. “Perhaps next time,” You smile. He laughs, causing Arabella to look up from her holopad in confusion, but he waves her off. “It’s like looking at another Ara.” He shakes his head and then makes quick work of his lollipop’s wrapper, popping the sweet into his mouth. “Do you usually just carry around lollipops?” You ask. It was difficult to envision the man who carries lollipops in his pocket as the same man who is the military’s golden boy. “Sometimes.” Will answers, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for other types of sweets.” The lollipop stick shifts as he grins cheekily. “Sorry for the interruption, I wanted to send out the information to the squadrons currently out on patrol. Did I miss anything?” Arabella returns to the conversation, holopad gone. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]] <<set $willrelationship +=5>>

You decline Will’s offer with a simple shake of your head, watching as he slowly unwraps the eye-watering bright green plastic wrapper and pops the lollipop into his mouth. He returns your stare with his amused one, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Do you usually just carry around lollipops?” You ask. It was difficult to envision the man who carries lollipops in his pocket as the same man who is the military’s golden boy. “Sometimes.” Will answers, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for other types of sweets.” The lollipop stick shifts as he grins cheekily. “Sorry for the interruption, I wanted to send out the information to the squadrons currently out on patrol. Did I miss anything?” Arabella returns to the conversation, holopad gone. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]]

You stare at Will, exasperation clear on your face. “Do I look like I want a lollipop?” Your tone is deadpan and your eyes bore into him. Yet, he only seems amused by your actions, his dark brown eyes alight with mirth. “By the Gods, Mina would love you.” He laughs at the annoyance that colours your face. His laugh causes Arabella to look up from her holopad in confusion, but he waves her off. “You could be annoyed at me together.” He shakes his head and then makes quick work of his lollipop’s wrapper, popping the sweet into his mouth. “Do you usually just carry around lollipops?” You ask. It was difficult to envision the man who carries lollipops in his pocket as the same man who is the military’s golden boy. “Sometimes.” Will answers, the lollipop’s round outline visible through his right cheek. “Sometimes I’m in the mood for other types of sweets.” The lollipop stick shifts as he grins cheekily. “Sorry for the interruption, I wanted to send out the information to the squadrons currently out on patrol. Did I miss anything?” Arabella returns to the conversation, holopad gone. [[Ask another question|Ara patiently answers your questions]]

“The Commander is likely referring to the soul trial,” Doctor Snyman replies, his eyes never leaving his screens as the metal arm begins to expand. A low buzzing sound fills the air as the metal of the arm shifts and transforms, the arm expanding in size as slowly it transforms into a dome-like device. The dome-like device was then carefully lowered over your body, trapping you inside, and you watched as hundreds of eye-like lights blinked to life, casting their blue gazes across your body. The blue lights danced across your body and the ache that was present in the crook of your elbow where the needle pinched disappeared. Meanwhile, the scar on your torso itches and throbs and your hand moves to press down on the scar tissue, the sensation disconcerting. However, before it can truly become a problem, the lights blink out of existence and the dome is slowly lifted off of your body. “You appear to be in good health, Cadet $surname. Remarkable after everything you’ve been through.” You blink away the blue dots that were crowding your vision until Doctor Snyman’s face comes into focus once again. “You will be discharged and your instructors will be informed that you are fit to join the soul trial.” He moves swiftly once the examination is over, removing the needle from your arm and sending off his report. “I will return with the paperwork shortly.” He left as quickly as he arrived; leaving you alone with your thoughts. //I can’t believe two months have passed… But the fact that the soul trial is here confirms it. I missed my graduation.// The soul trial. It was the test that every graduating cadet had to take once they left the academy. The test would decide who would enter into the soulforge order, an honour bestowed only upon a minuscule part of the population. In previous years, only 2% of graduates in Strize became a soulforge warrior. No one knew what the test entailed or how to prepare for it; instructors and military personnel alike were tightlipped about the experience. There were rumours, and murmurs that travelled around the academy, but nothing concrete. A popular rumour was that the test was a survival challenge; the academy dropped you into an arena to face an exillium. Another rumour was that you had to fight a soulforge warrior to prove yourself competent enough to join their ranks. But no one knew for sure, it was all speculation. <<if $militarybackground is true>>[[You’re startled as the door abruptly opens]]<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is true>>[[Two quick knocks are heard against your door]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[A single knock is heard before your door slides open]]<</if>>

You are startled out of your thoughts as your room door abruptly opens and a figure flies through. Your arms come up instinctively to protect yourself, your mouth ready to cry out when suddenly you find yourself engulfed in a hug. The familiar scent of your mother’s sandalwood and citrus perfume invades your senses as you are drawn into the crook of her neck. “My baby! Oh my darling baby,” Your mother cries and you find your head pulled back as your mother desperately scans your face, her thumbs running over your cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re awake,” She choked out, peppering kisses all across your face, her lipstick leaving sticky marks everywhere. When she pulls away to smooth your hair you are given the chance to conduct your own examination. Your mother’s face which normally only had the lightest of makeup applied is now caked in it; tear streaks revealing the dark circles she was desperate to hide. Her face appears more gaunt and your arms fit far too easily around her waist. You’ve only seen your mother like this once before when your father’s ship lost contact with the outside world for three days. She was beside herself with worry, pacing his study and screaming down her phone at all hours, but only ever behind closed doors. In front of you and your siblings and the outside world, she was Mrs $surname, a bastion of strength. <fieldset>\ [[• Choke back your tears, hugging your mother]] [[• “I take it that you missed me then” You grin]] [[• Soothe your mother]] [[• Scowl as you are fussed over]] </fieldset>\

Two quick knocks are heard against your door, “Come in,” you call out. //Is the doctor back already? That was fast.// You think but are surprised to see two nurses appear, dressed in dark blue scrubs and tailed by a hovering hospital cart. “Hello Cadet $surname, I’m Nurse Webster and this is Nurse Hulley, we will be attending to you today.” “Attending to me?” You ask, eyeing the man and woman with a frown, “Why would I need care when I’m about to be discharged?” The pair stopped, sending one another confused glances. “You are Cadet $surname, correct?” You nod, watching the nurses bring out their holopads. “We were instructed by Doctor Snyman to help you move to your new room. There is no mention of you being discharged in our notes.” You shake your head, “No, he said that I’m in good health, and he would return with the paperwork necessary for me to be discharged. There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding here.” “Let me check with the doctor.” Nurse Hulley, a man with dark hair and kind eyes, says. He steps out of the room, his hand hovering over his ear as he attempts to call Doctor Snyman. An awkward silence settles over the room as you and Nurse Webster wait to hear the verdict. Fortunately, it is not long before Nurse Hulley returns. Nurse Hulley enters the room with an apologetic expression, “It seems there has been a change in plans. You will be staying here until the soul trial.” <fieldset>\ [[• “What? Why?” You ask bewildered]] [[• “What’s the meaning of this,” Anger clear in your voice]] [[• “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” You joke]] [[• “Was a reason given?”You ask calmly]] </fieldset>\

A single knock is heard before your door slides open to reveal two nurses, dressed in dark blue scrubs and tailed by a hovering hospital cart. “Hello Cadet $surname, I’m Nurse Webster and this is Nurse Hulley, we will be attending to you today.” As the door closes behind them you spot the two guards in front of your door once again. “Attending to me?” You ask, eyeing the man and woman with a frown, “Why would I need care when I’m about to be discharged?” The pair stopped, sending one another confused glances. “You are Cadet $surname, correct?” You nod, watching the nurses bring out their holopads. “We were instructed by Doctor Snyman to help you move to your new room. There is no mention of you being discharged in our notes.” You shake your head, “No, he said that I’m in good health and he would return with the paperwork necessary for me to be discharged. There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding here.” “Let me check with the doctor.” Nurse Hulley, a man with dark hair and kind eyes, says. He steps out of the room, his hand hovering over his ear as he attempts to call Doctor Snyman. An awkward silence settles over the room as you and Nurse Webster wait to hear the verdict. Fortunately, it is not long before Nurse Hulley returns. Nurse Hulley enters the room with an apologetic expression, “It seems there has been a change in plans. You will be staying here until the soul trial.” <fieldset>\ [[• “What? Why?” You ask bewildered|orphan bewilder]] [[• “What’s the meaning of this,” Anger clear in your voice|orphan anger]] [[• “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” You joke|orphan joke]] [[• “Was a reason given?”You ask calmly|orphan calm]] </fieldset>\

“Mum,” You barely manage to choke out, burying your face into her chest. The satin blouse she wore was stained by your tears as you let your emotions spill out like a burst dam. Your nails dig into the luxurious material of the blouse as you burrow forward; desperate to cling to anything to avoid being pulled under by the wild current of your emotions. Instantly your mother’s arms wrap around you, cradling your head against her chest as she starts to slowly rock you back and forth, murmuring words of comfort between kisses to your brow. A lifeboat against the current. “I’m here, Skipper. Everything is okay now.” Skipper. A childhood nickname. And now, an anchor back into reality. You were awake and safe, back with your family. You release a shuddering breath and your body slumps against your mother, the tension holding your body up broken. The sandalwood and citrus scent cocooned you, soothing your nerves along with the gentle rocking motion of your mother. For a few moments, the world was nothing but the warm embrace of your mother and her soothing touches. After some time has passed you begrudgingly pull away, looking into your mother’s eyes. Her red-rimmed eyes are likely a mirror to your own equally red and swollen eyes. She chuckles as she gently wipes your tears away with a tissue that seemingly appears out of thin air. “Do you feel better, Skip?” You nod, not ready to speak yet, your throat still tight. “Do not fret, I will have you out of here soon. You will be able to recover at home, your instructors have been informed. They are delusional if they think I would send you back to the dorms after this ordeal! You will await the soul trial at home where you can be taken care of.” “Oh, your siblings can’t wait to see you. The twins have been causing an absolute ruckus since they heard the news. They were ready to storm the building to come and see you, I practically had to hold them off-” [[Your door opens for the third time that day]]

“I take it that you missed me then,” you tease, your words taking on a slight lisp under the influence of your mother’s hands still grasping your face. Your grin comes across more as a grimace as she tightens her hold, a deep scowl replacing her once jubilant expression. “I see the near-death experience has failed to strip you of that awful sense of humour you inherited from your father,” She remarks drily. “I’m sure the exillium tried it but the $surname family is known for their resilience.” You answer cheekily. However, you are unable to relish in your response for long as you soon find yourself crying out as your cheek is pinched. “Ow, ow, Gentle mother!” Your mother pinches and pulls at your cheek, stretching the $skincolour flesh with her perfectly manicured fingers. “I have been beside myself with worry and this is the first thing you say to me? I raised you better than that $name $surname!” “I’m sorry! I’m happy to see you, I promise,” You splutter out, your words slurring as your mouth contorts under the force of her pull. She releases your cheek with a huff, her nose lifted in the air as she watches you rub your cheek with a chastised expression. “I’m happy to see you too, Skipper.” //Skipper. It has been months since you’ve last heard your childhood nickname.// The nickname pokes holes into your joking demeanour; revealing a more sincere and vulnerable side that you tried to keep hidden. “I’m sorry… I know how you hate seeing those you love in danger.” You say softly, squeezing your mother’s hand. “I’m okay now, the doctor has given me a clean bill of health.” Your mother tightens her hold on your hand. “Good.” She sniffs, “That means there is no need to stay any longer. You will be able to recover at home, your instructors have been informed. They are delusional if they think I would send you back to the dorms after this ordeal! You will await the soul trial at home where you can be taken care of.” “Oh, your siblings can’t wait to see you. The twins have been causing an absolute ruckus since they heard the news. They were ready to storm the building to come and see you, I practically had to hold them off-” [[Your door opens for the third time that day]]

“I’m awake, Mum,” You reassure your mother, your arms wrapping easily around her fragile frame. Her well-manicured fingers dig into your sides, tugging at your hospital gown, and you feel her fight to bite back her sobs. “Everything is okay now, I’m here.” You speak softly and rub her back; her satin blouse wrinkling under your hand. Her body shakes as she replies, “I’m sorry, I- I hate for you to see me like this, Skipper.” She slowly pulls away and you see her dab her eyes with her handkerchief, mindful of her makeup. The handkerchief is lilac in colour and you notice that the clumsily embroidered flower in the corner shows signs of age; the threads are loose and discoloured. One of your sisters gave her the handkerchief as a gift for her fortieth birthday. She carried it everywhere with her, as she often did with all the gifts she received from her children. You feel a sharp ache in your chest at the thought of your siblings, wondering how they were. “Thank you, Skipper. You’re always thinking of others.” She cradles your face and smiles wetly. “But enough of that, how are you? When will I be able to whisk you away from this awful place?” //Skipper, your childhood nickname. How long has it been since you’ve last been called that?// “I’m fine, mum. The doctor has seen me and given me a clean bill of health. I’ll likely be discharged by the end of the day and sent off to the dormitory to await the soul trial.” “Nonsense! They are delusional if they think I would send you back to the dorms after this ordeal. You will await the soul trial at home where you can be taken care of.” She huffs, any traces of her previous fragility disappearing as she rises to her feet. “Your siblings can’t wait to see you. The twins have been causing an absolute ruckus since they heard the news. They were ready to storm the building to come and see you, I practically had to hold them off-” [[Your door opens for the third time that day]]

“Mother, is this really necessary?” You scowl, rubbing at your face, trying to remove the lipstick left by your mother’s excessive kissing. A grimace replaces your scowl when the back of your hand comes back sticky and stained red. “Oh? Is this how you talk to your mother after you wake up from a two-month coma?” She asks coolly, eyebrow raised. You avoid her eyes, your eyes focused on her high heels. One which is tapping away as she awaits your response. “I- No. I just wanted some space, you were smothering me.” As you bring your hand up to rub the bridge of your nose, you note your mother doing the same, a mirror of one another’s actions. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is fight, especially after… everything.” She apologises, gingerly sitting down on the hospital bed, smoothing her satin blouse and then her skirt. “How are you, Skipper? Has the doctor seen you?” Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, her attention focused on you. Skipper. //Gods, when was the last time anyone called you by your childhood nickname?// “He was just here. He has given me a clean bill of health. I’ll be able to partake in the soul trial at the end of the week. I’ll likely be discharged by the end of the day and taken back to the dormitories,” You reply. “Nonsense! They are delusional if they think I would send you back to the dorms after this ordeal. You will await the soul trial at home where you can be taken care of.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your siblings can’t wait to see you. The twins have been causing an absolute ruckus since they heard the news. They were ready to storm the building to come and see you, I practically had to hold them off-” [[Your door opens for the third time that day]]

Doctor Snyman appears and following behind him, to your shock, is your father. His grey peppered $haircolour is windswept and his normally pristine and cleanly pressed uniform is bedraggled. “$name!” He shouts, his eyes beaming with relief as he rushes to your bed, hands running over your face and body, seemingly checking for any injuries. “As I’ve said, Admiral $surname, Cadet $surname is fine. The patient has been examined and issued a clean bill of health.” Doctor Snyman says, slowly making his way to your bed where your mother and father now stand. Your father’s hand rests on your shoulder and he stares down at you as if afraid you will disappear. “No soul scourge?” Your father questions, squeezing your shoulder, and tucking your mother into his side. “No soul scourge has been found in ?his body. The Commander and Lieutenant Commander conducted the scan personally.” The doctor confirms. The tension carried in your father’s body instantly evaporates, the lines on his face smoothen and his shoulders drop. He kisses the top of your mother’s head and his hand never leaves your shoulder. “Thank you, doctor. When can $name leave? My wife and I are eager to take ?him home.” I’m sorry, Admiral $surname, that won’t be possible.” <fieldset>\ Enter your father’s name: <<textbox "$paname" "">> [[Confirm Father’s Name]]. </fieldset>\ [[View Name Suggestions for your Father]]

“Ian, surely you can’t possibly believe I would allow my child to return to the dorms.” Your father chuckles incredulously, staring at the doctor. “$paname, my hands are tied.” Doctor Snyman insists, his eyes pleading with your father to understand. “Your child’s situation… it is far too unique to ignore. Not only did ?he survive an attack from an S-Class exillium but ?he came out soul scourge free! It is simply unheard of.” “Take care with your words, Ian. You may be a friend of my husband but I hold no love for you.” Your mother warns, stepping out from under your father’s arm, her voice icy. Doctor Snyman holds his hands up in a placating manner, “I don’t want to keep your child from you, far from it, but this is beyond my authority. The higher-ups want to observe $name and ensure that ?his condition does not take a turn for the worse.” When your mother does not interrupt, he continues, “We have given a clean bill of health to $name but we are still hesitant to release ?him amongst the general population. We will conduct scans every day and after the soul trial, once a week. We will lower the number of scans until we are completely sure that $name is safe.” <fieldset>\ [[• “Does that mean I have to stay here?”]] [[• “Stop speaking as if I’m not here!”]] [[• Observe the situation]] </fieldset>\

<h2>Name suggestions for a man born into a military family</h2> \Alistair Benjamin Conrad Evander Hector Lionel Virgil \ [[Return|Your door opens for the third time that day]]

“Does that mean I have to stay here?” You question, drawing the attention of everyone, and defusing the mounting tension. “Yes. You will be moved to another room, a more comfortable living quarters, but you would have to remain within the medical centre’s walls.” Doctor Snyman confirms. “Before you left you said you would be back with my discharge paperwork, what changed in that short period?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes locked onto Doctor Snyman’s. “Yes, enlighten us, doctor, what changed.” Your mother snidely chimes in, her arms crossed and hip cocked, and your father watches silently. “The higher-ups saw Lieutenant Commander Hendricks report. They believe further scans and testing may reveal promising results in our pursuit to create a cure for the soul scourge epidemic.” He reveals, his eyes darting between your family members and yourself. “You are the first person who has been injected with an exillium’s venom and survived.” “There was speculation, that perhaps you were pierced and injected with a different type of venom, and thus a reason for why you were unaffected. But the scans have repeatedly shown traces of exillium resonance in your bloodstream yet no symptoms have appeared. We are unsure whether your unconscious state may have played a role.” “If your unconscious state did have an effect, it would be best to monitor you.” Your mother squeezes your father’s hand, “Are you saying that there is a chance that $name could fall prey to soul scourge?” The doctor nods grimly and your mother falls into your father’s arms, burying her face into his chest. “It is unlikely, but precautions need to be taken. In my opinion, it is far more likely that $name may very well be the key to unlocking a potential cure.” He reassures your mother and you watch as the tension slowly drains from her body, slumping against your father. Your father closes his eyes and shakes his head once before he opens them. His face was fixed in a mask of resoluteness. [[“I understand. Please, take care of my child”]]

“Stop speaking as if I’m not here!” You exclaim, seething at their blatant disregard. //They talk as if I’m not even in the room, deciding my fate with little to no thought of my feelings.// You think, your body shaking as anger rattles against your chest like a caged beast, eager to burst through and lash out at those around you. “Why do I have to stay?” You demand an answer from Doctor Snyman, eyes narrowing and lip twitching as you stare at the man. The skin around your torso feels tight and itches, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. “You were going to discharge me! Why did you suddenly change your mind?” “$name.” Your head snaps up and you find yourself staring into your father’s disapproving eyes. “That was not my intention. I was simply laying out the information so you and your parents could understand the situation we have found ourselves in.” Doctor Snyman speaks carefully, his eyes now completely focused on you, the ocular lenses spinning. “And the reason for changing your mind about discharging me?” You ask, your voice terse. “The higher-ups saw Lieutenant Commander Hendricks report. They believe further scans and testing may reveal promising results in our pursuit to create a cure for the soul scourge epidemic.” He reveals, his eyes darting between your family members and yourself. “You are the first person who has been injected with an exillium’s venom and survived. There was speculation, that perhaps you were pierced and injected with a different type of venom, and thus a reason for why you were unaffected. But the scans have repeatedly shown traces of exillium resonance in your bloodstream yet no symptoms have appeared. We are unsure whether your unconscious state may have played a role.” “If your unconscious state did have an effect, it would be best to monitor you.” Your mother squeezes your father’s hand, “Are you saying that there is a chance that $name could fall prey to soul scourge?” The doctor nods grimly and your mother falls into your father’s arms, burying her face into his chest. “It is unlikely, but precautions need to be taken. In my opinion, it is far more likely that $name may very well be the key to unlocking a potential cure.” He reassures your mother, and you watch as the tension slowly drains from her body, slumping against your father. Your father closes his eyes and shakes his head once before he opens them. His face was fixed in a mask of resoluteness. [[“I understand. Please, take care of my child”]] <<set $feedanger +=2>>

“Where will ?he stay? Will we be able to visit ?him?” Your mother asks in rapid succession, anxiety lining her face. You watch silently, taking in the rigid stance of your father and his clenched jaw. The weariness of the doctor is bombarded by questions from your mother and your mother’s clenched fists, equal parts fear and stubbornness present in her eyes. “$name will be moved to another room, a more comfortable living quarters, within the medical centre’s walls.” Doctor Snyman replies. “Visitation will be difficult. Currently, you are here as an unauthorised guest, and only the Admiral’s good standing is preventing you from being escorted away.” Your mother opens her mouth, ready to argue, but a single firm shake of the head from your father has her closing it with a soft click. The doctor continues, “The higher-ups saw Lieutenant Commander Hendricks's report. They believe further scans and testing may reveal promising results in our pursuit to create a cure for the soul scourge epidemic.” He reveals, his eyes darting between your family members and yourself. “You are the first person who has been injected with an exillium’s venom and survived. There was speculation, that perhaps you were pierced and injected with a different type of venom, and thus a reason for why you were unaffected. But the scans have repeatedly shown traces of exillium resonance in your bloodstream, yet no symptoms have appeared. We are unsure whether your unconscious state may have played a role.” “If your unconscious state did have an effect, it would be best to monitor you.” Your mother squeezes your father’s hand, “Are you saying that there is a chance that $name could fall prey to soul scourge?” The doctor nods grimly, and your mother falls into your father’s arms, burying her face into his chest. “It is unlikely, but precautions need to be taken. In my opinion, it is far more likely that $name may very well be the key to unlocking a potential cure.” He reassures your mother and you watch as the tension slowly drains from her body, slumping against your father. Your father closes his eyes and shakes his head once before he opens them. His face was fixed in a mask of resoluteness. [[“I understand. Please, take care of my child”]]

“Contact me if you need anything,” Your mother leans down and holds your face between her hands, her eyes blazing. “I know the chief of medicine, and she will make sure you are well looked after. You will want for nothing.” Her eyes roam over your face as if she were memorising your face, etching every detail into her mind and heart. Your father kneels beside your bed, his hand falling over your mother’s hand that rests on your cheek, and he says, “Your mother and I are one call away. Enjoy your little break because soon enough you will be scrubbing the deck of my ship.” Your father jokes, pretending to stumble when your mother hip-checks him. “We love you.” “Never forget that.” Your body is cocooned by your parents' warm embrace, their arms tightly holding you against their frames. Rough stubble pricks the side of your face and your arm starts to tingle as it is caught between your parents. With one final squeeze, they pull away, your mother’s face scrunched up and tight. “Take care of my child, Doctor. I will know if you don’t.” Your mother struts out of the room, her heels clicking across the tiled floors. Doctor Snyman sends an exasperated look towards your father, but he is only greeted with a small shrug and chuckle as he moves to follow your mother. “I will make the arrangements to have you moved.” [[As promised, you wanted for nothing.]]

You were moved to one of the VIP rooms within the medical centre. The bed was more on par with that found in a hotel than in a hospital; you had your own private bathroom, and there was a large holo-screen for entertainment. The food was delicious and suspiciously tasted a lot like the food cooked by your personal chef back home. Almost every day, you receive a care package from your parents and siblings. Your mother would send desserts, books, clothing and aromatherapy candles. The twins insisted on sending their favourite toys, and your sisters sent flowers and chocolates. Your room quickly became overcrowded from all the gifts. You were forced to send back a majority of the gifts to ensure the doctors and nurses could walk around your room. You kept a robotic dog toy, at the behest of the twins, the cashmere sweater your mother sent and the photo your sisters sent. The photo was stored in a small silver bracelet, appearing when you ran your thumb across the cool metal. The days in the medical centre were filled with tests, examinations and interviews. Doctor after doctor would visit your room and inquire about the S-Class and the events around the attack. The skin around the crook of your elbow was heavily bruised from the number of blood vials extracted. The soul trial could not have come soon enough. [[Continue|Soul trial]] <<set $militarycarepackage to true>>

<h3>Six days later</h3>\ Clouds of red dust swarm around the heavy armoured vehicles cutting through the wastelands surrounding Voxis; animals skittering away from the rumbling vehicles. Their large, black metal bodies chew through the stone and grass that lies before them. They travel as a pack, dozens of vehicles tightly huddled together. You, along with thirty classmates, sit shoulder to shoulder inside. The tension is palpable. No one talks, instead the trip is filled with bouncing legs and fraught looks. Some have their heads buried in their books, seeking help within the pages, while others fidget with their pulsefire batons or drones. Searching the landscape, you are met with an endless stretch of untouched land. Red mountains painted blue and purple by the descending sun that stands tall above the ravaged land. Jagged spires of earth jut out of the ground like broken spears, casting long shadows that intertwine with the pools of bubbling ichor that seep through the cracks in the earth. Bone white trees with spindly branches, gnarled and bare, bend under the weight of beady-eyed vultures. Their grey plumage puffed and stained red from their latest meal. They watch the vehicles curiously, heads tilting as they track the convoy movements, deep tyre tracks left behind as they journey towards the mountains. <fieldset>\ [[• Flip through your notes]] [[• Examine the people around you]] [[• Stare out the window]] [[• Play with your pulsefire baton]] </fieldset>\

You jolt up, the skin around your scar pulling tight from the sudden movement, “What?” You ask, bewildered, Why?” Nurse Hulley’s smile is replaced by a grimace as he says, “The only explanation given was that your extended stay was an order from the higher-ups and that the doctor will return to explain further once he has finished his debriefing with them.” Your eyebrows climbed further up as you listened, left to wonder why the military would issue an order to have you remain hospitalised. “Your instructors have been informed and your clothing and toiletries will be sent for. In the meantime, we have clothes and toiletries that you can use.” Nurse Hulley explains. During the explanation, Nurse Webster has pulled out a folded wheelchair from the hospital cart and has made herself busy setting it up next to your bed. “There is a surprise waiting for you in your room,” Nurse Webster chimes in, running her hands over the wheelchair to make sure everything is locked into place. She was trying to distract you from the news. “A bigger surprise than this?” You ask, playing along. Nurse Webster laughs and replies, “A more pleasant surprise.” You are carefully helped into the wheelchair; the coma has left your body weak and your legs shaky. Beads of sweat wet your brow as you slump into the wheelchair, exhaustion settling into your very bones after the small journey from your bed. [[You are escorted to your new room]]

The skin around your scar throbs as anger thrums inside your veins, clawing to be released and to seek out answers. “What’s the meaning of this?” You demand, your nails digging into the starch sheets of the hospital bed. Although your focus is on Nurse Hulley, out of the corner of your eye you catch Nurse Webster backing away, holopad in her hand. Nurse Hulley holds his hands out in a placating manner, and his voice takes on a softer and more reassuring tone. “The higher-ups,” You glare, “Those on the medical board and the military contractors,” He quickly corrects, “Ordered for you to remain in the hospital. I know nothing else, Doctor Snyman said he would explain further once he is available.” You purse your lips. //Something must have happened in that short period he was gone. What could have changed?// Your hand subconsciously rests over your scar as you become lost in thought. “Your instructors have been informed and your clothing and toiletries will be sent for. In the meantime, we have clothes and toiletries that you can use.” A stifling silence falls over the room as you stare at Nurse Hulley, weighing his words. “Fine. I will get my answers from Doctor Snyman.” Nurse Hulley and Nurse Webster work quickly to move you into a wheelchair, and you find your skin flushed and your breath short when you eventually lower yourself into the wheelchair. You refused to rely on the support of the nurses, and your muscles are screaming from the sudden exertion after months of disuse. Beads of sweat wet your brow as you slump into the wheelchair, exhaustion settling into your very bones after the small journey from your bed. The wheelchair slowly exits the room and the low hum of the electric engine is the only sound in the corridor. You are flanked by a guard and Nurse Hulley, Nurse Webster staying behind to clean up the room, the pair escorting you to your new room. [[You enter your new room|You are escorted to your new room]] <<set $feedanger +=2>>

“Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” You joke, your tone light and jovial, disguising your confusion. “It seems the doctor has taken a shine to you,” Nurse Webster replies, her cheerful voice joining in. “I hope it’s strictly professional, he isn’t my type.” You pause, allowing Nurse Hulley and Nurse Webster their guffaws, before continuing. “Did he mention why I would be extending my stay at this lovely establishment?” You ask, watching the two nurses work around you. They were like a well-oiled machine, working in perfect unison. Nurse Webster pulls out a folded wheelchair from the hospital cart while Nurse Hulley begins preparations to help you out of bed. “The only explanation given was that your extended stay was an order from the higher-ups and that the doctor would return to explain further once he has finished his debriefing with them.” Nurse Hulley explains while he works alongside Nurse Webster to help you carefully into the wheelchair. “I’m popular with more than just the doctor, then,” You grunt out, your muscles protesting as you are slowly moved from the hospital bed and into your wheelchair. “Your instructors have been informed and your clothing and toiletries will be sent for. In the meantime, we have clothes and toiletries that you can use.” Nurse Hulley continues his explanation. Beads of sweat wet your brow as you slump into the wheelchair, exhaustion settling into your very bones after the small journey from your bed. “Well done, Cadet $surname, just a small trip to your new room, and then you can rest.” Nurse Webster says, and you give her a shaky thumbs up; the coma has left your body weak and shaky. “Enjoy your surprise!” Nurse Webster’s words ring in your ears as you begin the trek to your new room. [[You are escorted to your new room]]

“Was a reason given?” You ask calmly, your hands neatly folded on your lap and posture perfect as you face Nurse Hulley. “The only explanation given was that your extended stay was an order from the higher-ups and that the doctor would return to explain further once he has finished his debriefing with them.” Nurse Hulley replies. “I see.” You silently absorb the information while watching the two nurses prepare to move you to your new room. Nurse Webster pulls out a folded wheelchair from the hospital cart and has made herself busy setting it up next to your bed. Nurse Hulley moves into position to help move you into the wheelchair alongside Nurse Webster. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid groaning as you are carefully helped out of your bed, your muscles protesting the movement. The coma has left your body weak and shaky. Beads of sweat wet your brow as you slump into the wheelchair, exhaustion settling into your very bones after the small journey from your bed. “Well done, Cadet $surname, just a small trip to your new room, and then you can rest.” Nurse Webster says, and you nod, shifting until you are comfortable. She starts to strip away the bedsheets and toss them into the hospital cart as you move, Nurse Hulley guiding the wheelchair out and towards your new room. “Enjoy your surprise!” Nurse Webster calls out, and you are left to ponder her words during the journey. [[You are escorted to your new room]]

The door slides open, and you are greeted by the sight of your new, smaller, living quarters. The shower and toilet are almost on top of each other in the bathroom, and the bed is pushed against the back wall to make the room appear slightly bigger. The room is clean, and the bed is comfortable enough. On top of your bed are two envelopes and a small cardboard box. In neat cursive handwriting, your name is written on the envelope and box, and you immediately recognise it as your mother’s handwriting. After settling into your new room, you eagerly open up the letter and box, and you are greeted by the strong, pungent scent of menthol and camphor. Inside the box lies a large jar of medicinal rubbing oil, often used by your commune’s hunters, and it’s known for its effectiveness in treating pain relief and reducing swelling. You recognise Jameson’s handwriting on the jar’s label and chuckle as you read his instructions, //For use three times a day on the inflamed area. Don’t be shy, use some elbow grease when massaging it in. The more it hurts, the better you will feel later.// There are also two talismans inside the box as well; a talisman of Bezdall, the god of light and healing, and a talisman of Oyja, the goddess of order and war. A prayer is written on the back of both by Elder Noxolo wishing for a speedy recovery and for the gods to watch over you. The talismans are beautifully made. Natural leather embellished with fine gold and white thread for Bezdall’s talisman and red and silver thread for Oyja’s talisman. The God's symbols were intricately stitched onto the leather and the prayer burnt into the back. There were brass rings woven into the top so you could carry them around. With great care, you placed the talismans and jar to the side and turned your attention to the unread letters. [[You read the first letter]] <<set $wastelandercarepackage to true>>

//Dear $name, I’m sorry that your father and I can’t be by your side when you wake up. We tried to get access in to Voxis but after the attack, the capital was placed under lockdown and security has increased significantly. No one is allowed in or out. They claim it is due to unrest that followed after the S-Class attack. Nevertheless, know that your father and I love you, and we wish we could be there. We were told by Verhal about the attack and your hospitalisation. Please remember to thank him when next you see him. He wrote to us as soon as he failed to see you back at the dormitories. You will find talismans and medicine along with this letter, they will help keep you safe and ease any aches or pains left by the attack. Please respond once you are awake so we know that you’re okay. Love, Mum and Dad// Marigold and peony petals have been dry pressed onto the back of the letter, their sweet floral scent a stark contrast to the more pungent and sharp scent of the medicine. The letter must have been during the first or second week of your coma. Your father likely used his contacts within the city to get it delivered. You mentally make a note to thank Verhal when next you meet him. Although you both came from New Dawn, you were not particularly close in the academy. It was heartening to know that he sought out your parents on your behalf. A reminder that the bond of wastelanders would not fade even outside the commune. [[You read the second letter]]

There are ink smudges and tear stains around the letter; your mother’s once neat handwriting is sharper and less elegant. //“Dear $name, It has been over a month, and I’m worried. You have sent no word, and Verhal has been unable to learn anything from your Instructors at the academy. The Instructors have been tight-lipped about your condition, and the hospital won’t allow him near you because he is not an immediate family member. Every night I pray to the All Mother in hopes that a letter from you will arrive in the morning. Your father tried to enter the city using our contacts, but he was denied access. The city’s persistence in their lockdown is becoming more and more alarming. No one can come in or out without a work permit. He saw the damage that the S-Class did to Voxis’s lower rung. An entire district was wiped out of existence. Truly, the All-Mother is good for you to have survived such a devastating attack. Please, write as soon as you can. We love you, Mum and dad.// The letter is a few weeks old and judging by the lack of any other letters, this was the last letter they were able to send. Jasmine and hydrangea petals are pressed onto the back of the letter this time. A deep pang of sadness aches within you as you reread your mother’s words, imagining her curled over the letter late at night, fighting back her tears albeit futilely. Your hand ached for a pen and paper to respond. [[There is a knock at your door and then it slides open]]

Doctor Snyman walks into your new room, his ocular lenses whirling and expanding as they examine you. “Cadet $surname, I apologise for the sudden change in plans. Lieutenant Commander Hendricks' report was seen by the higher-ups, and they requested that I keep you in the hospital.” His eyes glanced briefly at the opened box and letters on your bed before continuing. “Your situation is very unusual and although you have been given a clean bill of health, we are still hesitant to release you amongst the general population. We plan on conducting scans every day until the soul trial. After the soul trial, it will become once a week.” “We will lower the number of scans from there until we are completely satisfied that you show no signs of falling prey to the soul scourge.” With furrowed brows, you question the doctor, “But why? Surely if my scan has shown no soul scourge, I’m safe?” The doctor nods slowly, stroking his chin as he seems to consider how best to answer. “That is the case normally, yes, but you have proven to be an outlier and further tests are required. The scans have repeatedly shown traces of exillium resonance in your bloodstream yet you exhibited no symptoms. However, was that because you were in a coma or is there some other reason?” “Furthermore, you were attacked by an S-Class exillium. The greatest threat there is to humanity, yet all you have to show is a nasty scar. A lot of questions have been raised.” You feel like an ant under a microscope, the doctor’s eyes narrowed and hawk-like gaze not missing a single movement. [[“I could still get soul scourge?”]]

His words slam into you and leave you in a daze. The words leaving your mouth sound muffled even to your ears, “I could still get soul scourge?” It was like you were plunged into the ice-cold ocean, icy terror engulfing your body as you watched the doctor consider his next words carefully. “There is a chance.” He speaks slowly and with a professional air. “We have never encountered someone who has been injected with the venom of an exillium and survived. Either you hold the potential for a cure or your incubation period is longer than the average human for soul scourge.” “Regardless of which, we need to keep an eye on you for your own safety and the safety of others.” The doctor says, leaving no room for argument. You can only nod and try to absorb the information. [[You ask the doctor another question]]

“You said I could potentially hold the answer for a cure. Is that what the scans and tests are for? I'm to be a test subject?” There is wariness in your voice as you eye the doctor, subconsciously moving away from the man. “In a sense. We won’t be running any drug trials or anything like that during your observation. We will mostly ask you questions, conduct scans and take blood samples now and again.” He answers. “It would be like any other waiting period, truth be told.” You scan his face for any falsehoods, a twitch of the lip or darting eyes, but his gaze is steady and his face calm. You can do nothing but nod begrudgingly, aware that you don’t truly have a choice in the matter. “What if I’m resistant to soul scourge, what then?” You ask, your fingers tapping against your leg as you wait for an answer. The doctor falls into a long silence, contemplating your question as he taps his chin in thought, only the sound of his whirling ocular lens filling the room. “I imagine the military will pay you a rather handsome sum of money to encourage you to do further testing and help us create a cure. Depending on what occurs during the soul trial, your enlistment could be avoided if you are truly resistant.” He says. “But only if I’m not eligible to become a soulforge?” You test the doctor. “Yes. If you are an eligible soulforge candidate, other arrangements would need to be made. The soulforge…” Doctor Snyman pauses, “A lot of allowances are made for them. They are far too valuable of an organisation to upset.” He finishes. “Is there anything else you would like to know?” <<if $wastelanderbackground is true>>[[“My family… will they be able to visit me?”]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[“Would I be able to have visitors?”]]<</if>>\

Your mother’s letter suddenly springs to mind, “My family… will they be able to visit me?” You ask, thinking about the jagged strokes of your mother’s words and the flower petals tucked safely back into the envelopes. The doctor purses his lips, and you can feel your heart drop into your stomach at the sight of the small action. “Unfortunately, visitation is impossible. By law, you are to be quarantined and have no contact with the outside world aside from medical professionals. We will treat this week as if you were any other patient exposed to exillium venom.” He explains in a matter-of-fact tone. “Oh,” Your eyes drop to the letters on your bed. “Can I send a letter to my family?” Doctor Snyman nods, and you feel a large weight lift from your shoulders. He leaves once he is sure you have no further questions, and you were quick to pounce on the next nurse to visit you, requesting a pen and some paper. <fieldset>\ [[• Tell your parents everything]] [[• Avoid telling them about the possibility that you may be infected]] </fieldset>\

The card sent by Matron Andrietta and the children suddenly springs to mind, “Would I be able to have visitors?” You ask, thinking about the excitement of the children in the letter as they asked to see you again and the weight of the sweater on your body. The doctor purses his lips, and you can feel your heart drop into your stomach at the sight of the small action. “Unfortunately, visitation is impossible. By law, you are to be quarantined and have no contact with the outside world aside from medical professionals. We will treat this week as if you were any other patient exposed to exillium venom.” He explains in a matter-of-fact tone. “Oh,” Your eyes drop to the letters on your bed. “Can I send a letter?” Doctor Snyman nods, and you feel a large weight lift from your shoulders. He leaves once he is sure you have no further questions, and you were quick to pounce on the next nurse to visit you, requesting a pen and some paper. <fieldset>\ [[• Promise the children you would see them soon]] [[• Don’t make any promises as you are unsure]] </fieldset>\

It was a difficult letter to write. At times, your pen hovered above the sheet of paper, the thoughts and experiences that plagued your mind unable to be properly conveyed through ink alone. You found yourself writing and rewriting sections, desperate to have your feelings of terror and pain understood, even as your words often failed you. Your fingers became stained with ink as you detailed the evacuation and attack to waking up in the hospital and speaking to Doctor Snyman. You revealed everything. The letter took two days to write between tests, examinations and interviews. Doctor after doctor would visit your room and inquire about the S-Class and the events around the attack. The skin around the crook of your elbow was heavily bruised from the number of blood vials extracted. It became a monotonous routine, and you found yourself counting down the days until the soul trial. [[Continue|Soul trial]] <<set $wastelanderlettertell to true>>

You swiftly wrote a reply to your parents, detailing the attack and how you awoke in the hospital. You reassured your parents that everything was okay and that they should not worry about you; soon you would be discharged from the hospital. You were careful to avoid topics that could be upsetting, focusing on the positives and your love for them. Near the end of the letter, your pen became slower, the words stubbornly refusing to leave your pen’s tip. You grazed over why you were still in the hospital and your inability to see Verhal. An uncomfortable weight settled in the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it, allowing your pen to paint a blissful portrait for your parents. The letter was delivered between tests, examinations and interviews. Doctor after doctor would visit your room and inquire about the S-Class and the events around the attack. The skin around the crook of your elbow was heavily bruised from the number of blood vials extracted. It became a monotonous routine, and you found yourself counting down the days until the soul trial. [[Continue|Soul trial]] <<set $wastelanderletteravoid to true>>

The skin around your scar throbs as anger thrums inside your veins, clawing to be released and to seek out answers. “What’s the meaning of this?” You demand, your nails digging into the starch sheets of the hospital bed. Although your focus is on Nurse Hulley, out of the corner of your eye, you catch Nurse Webster backing away slowly. Nurse Hulley holds his hands out in a placating manner, and his voice takes on a softer and more reassuring tone. “The higher-ups,” You glare, “Those on the medical board and the military contractors,” He quickly corrects, “Ordered for you to remain in the hospital. I know nothing else, Doctor Snyman said he would explain further once he is available.” You purse your lips. //Something must have happened in that short period he was gone. What could have changed?// Your hand subconsciously rests over your scar as you become lost in thought. “Your instructors have been informed and your clothing and toiletries will be sent for. In the meantime, we have clothes and toiletries that you can use.” A stifling silence falls over the room as you stare at Nurse Hulley, weighing his words. “Fine. I will get my answers from Doctor Snyman.” Nurse Hulley and Nurse Webster work quickly to move you into a wheelchair and you find your skin flushed and your breath short when you eventually lower yourself into the wheelchair. You refused to rely on the support of the nurses and your muscles are screaming from the sudden exertion after months of disuse. Beads of sweat wet your brow as you slump into the wheelchair, exhaustion settling into your very bones after the small journey from your bed. The wheelchair slowly exits the room and the low hum of the electric engine is the only sound in the corridor. You are flanked by the two guards and Nurse Hulley is made to walk in front of your small group. Nurse Hulley’s back is straight, his shoulders tense and high. [[The trip was stifling|The trip to your room was silent]] <<set $feedanger +=2>>

“Was a reason given?” You ask calmly, your hands neatly folded on your lap and posture perfect as you face Nurse Hulley. “The only explanation given was that your extended stay was an order from the higher-ups and that the doctor would return to explain further once he has finished his debriefing with them.” Nurse Hulley replies. “I see.” You silently absorb the information while watching the two nurses prepare to move you to your new room. Nurse Webster pulls out a folded wheelchair from the hospital cart and has made herself busy setting it up next to your bed. Nurse Hulley moves into position to help move you into the wheelchair alongside Nurse Webster. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid groaning as you are carefully helped out of your bed, your muscles protesting the movement. The coma has left your body weak and shaky. Beads of sweat wet your brow as you slump into the wheelchair, exhaustion settling into your very bones after the small journey from your bed. “Well done, Cadet $surname, just a small trip to your new room, and then you can rest.” Nurse Webster says and you nod, shifting until you are comfortable. She starts to strip away the bedsheets and toss them into the hospital cart as you move, Nurse Hulley guiding the wheelchair out and towards your new room. “Enjoy your surprise!” Nurse Webster calls out and you are left to ponder her words during the journey. The guards walk exactly one step behind Nurse Hulley and your wheelchair, their movements sharp and precise as they escort you to your new room. Nurse Hulley looks perplexed by the guard’s presence but says nothing, and you are left to watch them carefully from the corner of your eye. [[The trip to your room was silent]]

The door slides open, and you are greeted by the sight of your new, smaller, living quarters. The shower and toilet are almost on top of each other in the bathroom, and the bed is pushed against the back wall to make the room appear slightly bigger. The room is clean, and the bed is comfortable enough. On top of your bed is a hand-drawn card and a clumsily wrapped gift. The guards take their place in front of your doorway, and you are left to examine your unexpected gifts on the bed. Reaching out for the card first, you are greeted by bright colours and childish doodles. Written in large letters on the front is ‘Get well soon, $name!’ and drawn underneath there is a stick figure wearing a triangle-shaped hospital gown lying on a bed and surrounded by smiling doctor-like stick figures. A large variety of brightly coloured flowers, dogs and cats have also been drawn on the front of the card. Opening the card, you see a short message written by Matron Andrietta, her crisp and flowing handwriting a stark contrast to the rest of the card, and messages from the children at the orphanage. You read Matron Andrietta’s message first: //Dear $name, The children and I have heard about your injuries from your classmate Mishka. The children are beside themselves with worry and hope you will make a swift recovery. They look forward to your visits and are eager to see you before your enlistment. There are many stories as well as newly discovered talents they wish to share with you. I did not allow the children to watch the news, so they were unaware of how devastating the attack was. I hope that once you’ve recovered from your injuries, you will stay safe and visit on your days off. I will have the cooks make your favourite dessert for dinner. Take care of yourself, Andrietta Van Wyke// “Mishka?” Your eyebrows draw together as you try to remember a classmate named Mishka. Shaking your head, you brush the matter aside, dismissing it for now. //The instructors probably just asked someone in the academy to deliver the message to Matron Andrietta, and she mistook them for a classmate.// [[You continue reading the card]]

Around the matron’s handwriting were the doodles and messages from the orphanage children. Misspelled words and barely legible sentences are scattered all across the large handmade card; in one spot you see what appears to be a kiss mark made with a chocolate-covered mouth. A small smile teases the corners of your lips as you read the sweet words from children you grew up with. Cassandra wrote about how she finally lost her two front teeth and how that meant she was now a big girl. Darshan stated in big, bold letters how he missed you and hoped you would visit soon (and bring him some sweeties). Their sincere well-wishes and love washed over you, and you found your throat tightening as you read over each message. With great care, you placed the card to the side and turned your attention to the unopened gift. The wrapping was torn and patched up with tape in places, and there were two different types of wrapping paper used. Slowly, you unwrapped the gift, revealing a bag of misshapen toffee sweets and a knitted sweater. Picking up the sweater you can see gaps in some areas, noticeably around the neck hole, and you couldn’t hold back your chuckle at seeing the words, ‘Voxis’s No.1 Protector,’ unevenly stitched onto the front. You carefully pull the knitted sweater over your head, cautious around the visible seams, and marvel at the loose yet comfortable sweater. Your fingers trace the stitched words, wondering which one of the kids took the time to stitch them onto the sweater. [[You are brought out of your thoughts by the door sliding open]] <<set $herosweater to true>> <<set $orphancarepackage to true>>

Doctor Snyman walks into your new room, his ocular lenses whirling and expanding as they examine you. “Cadet $surname, I apologise for the sudden change in plans. Lieutenant Commander Hendricks' report was seen by the higher-ups and they requested that I keep you in the hospital.” His eyes glanced briefly at the card on your bed and the sweater you were now wearing over your hospital gown before continuing. “Your situation is very unusual and although you have been given a clean bill of health, we are still hesitant to release you amongst the general population. We plan on conducting scans every day until the soul trial. After the soul trial, it will become once a week.” “We will lower the number of scans from there until we are completely satisfied that you show no signs of falling prey to the soul scourge.” With furrowed brows you question the doctor, “But why? Surely if my scan has shown no soul scourge, I’m safe?” The doctor nods slowly, stroking his chin as he seems to consider how best to answer. “That is the case normally, yes, but you have proven to be an outlier and further tests are required. The scans have repeatedly shown traces of exillium resonance in your bloodstream yet you exhibited no symptoms. However, was that because you were in a coma or is there some other reason?” “Furthermore, you were attacked by an S-Class exillium. The greatest threat there is to humanity, yet all you have to show is a nasty scar. A lot of questions have been raised.” You feel like an ant under a microscope, the doctor’s eyes narrowed and hawk-like gaze not missing a single movement. [[“I could still get soul scourge?”]]

The letter started with gratitude for the gifts you received and was swiftly followed by how impressed you were with the craftsmanship of the sweater and how tasty the toffee sweets were (albeit they were a tad saltier than they were sweet). You thanked everyone for their well wishes and informed them that you were well on your way to a full recovery. You promised to visit them soon and made sure to leave a message for every child that wrote on the card. The letter took three days to write between tests, examinations and interviews. Doctor after doctor would visit your room and inquire about the S-Class and the events around the attack. The skin around the crook of your elbow was heavily bruised from the number of blood vials extracted. It became a monotonous routine, and you found yourself counting down the days until the soul trial. [[Continue|Soul trial]] <<set $promisevisitkids to true>>

The letter started with gratitude for the gifts you received and was swiftly followed by how impressed you were with the craftsmanship of the sweater and how tasty the toffee sweets were (albeit they were a tad saltier than they were sweet). You thanked everyone for their well wishes and informed them that you were well on your way to a full recovery. You stumbled on the second half of the letter, writing and rewriting your apology to the children as you told them you were unsure when you would be able to visit. The future was uncertain, and you didn’t want to make a promise that you could not keep. Instead, you told them that you would work hard to see them again and would let them know. The letter took three days to write between tests, examinations and interviews. Doctor after doctor would visit your room and inquire about the S-Class and the events around the attack. The skin around the crook of your elbow was heavily bruised from the number of blood vials extracted. It became a monotonous routine, and you found yourself counting down the days until the soul trial. [[Continue|Soul trial]] <<set $nopromisevisitkids to true>>

Pulling your gaze away from the tinted window, you turn your attention to the notes in your backpack. The binder is filled with notes taken throughout your time at the academy, detailing everything from the geographical climate of Voxis to the weak points of an exillium. The instructors were tight-lipped about the nature of the soul trial. When you arrived at the academy that morning, they gathered their classes, assigned them a heavy armoured vehicle and wished them good luck. There was no last-minute advice or instructions. Confused murmurs and furtive looks were exchanged amongst students at the peculiarity. No one knew what to expect, so you could only prepare as you best saw fit for the challenge ahead. You pour over your notes, brushing up on your survival knowledge and first aid training, alongside studying the habits and weaknesses of exilliums. The drone of the vehicle faded into the background as you became absorbed in the words. [[The convoy came to a slow stop]]

Turning away from the tinted window, you switch your attention from the desolate landscape to the faces of your classmates. Most sat in self-imposed silence, deep lines settling around their furrowed brows and pursed lips, their minds elsewhere. However, a few were chatting quietly, questions thrown around but met with no real answer. The instructors were tight-lipped about the nature of the soul trial. When you arrived at the academy that morning, they gathered their classes, assigned them a heavy armoured vehicle and wished them good luck. There was no last-minute advice or instructions. Confused murmurs and furtive looks were exchanged amongst students at the peculiarity. No one knew what to expect, so you could only prepare as you best saw fit for the challenge ahead. You trained your eyes and mind on your classmates. You took note of the classmates who hid their hands beneath their legs, using the rumbling of the vehicle to mask their shaking, and the classmates who sank into their seats, eyes closed and arms crossed, resting before the upcoming trial. You missed nothing. Jotting every idiosyncrasy down and devising strategies as you watched them. People were a valuable resource and if you were required to work in teams, you were going to be ready. [[The convoy came to a slow stop]]

The city is barely visible in the distance, the hulking skyscrapers and towering walls an indecipherable dot past the horizon. The further you travel into the wastelands, the more desolate it becomes. Animals disappear and the grass and trees are replaced with grey, broken earth and jagged spires that stand as tall as the buildings in the city. The pools of bubbling ichor have turned into small lakes, the tar-like substance thrashing inside the cracks of the earth. You note that the convoy has broken into smaller packs, carefully picking across the ruined landscape to avoid the sporadic chasms and stretches of ichor. The instructors were tight-lipped about the nature of the soul trial. When you arrived at the academy that morning, they gathered their classes, assigned them a heavy armoured vehicle and wished them good luck. There was no last-minute advice or instructions. Confused murmurs and furtive looks were exchanged amongst students at the peculiarity. No one knew what to expect, so you observed your surroundings and tried to make sense of the situation in your mind. You ran through scenario after scenario, hypothesising what could be waiting for you in the wastelands. Your eyes scanned the landscape, trying to find an answer within it. [[The convoy came to a slow stop]]

Pulling your gaze away from the tinted window, you turn your attention to the pulsefire baton in your backpack. The cool metal rests comfortably in your calloused hand, deceptively light and unassuming in its appearance. Absent-mindedly, you twist the bottom of the baton and prongs shoot out, the air around it crackling. The instructors were tight-lipped about the nature of the soul trial. When you arrived at the academy that morning, they gathered their classes, assigned them a heavy armoured vehicle and wished them good luck. There was no last-minute advice or instructions. Confused murmurs and furtive looks were exchanged amongst students at the peculiarity. No one knew what to expect, so you could only prepare as you best saw fit for the challenge ahead. Twisting the baton again, the prongs disappeared, and with them safely away you practised simple blocks and jabs. Although space was limited, you used your time to run drills, conditioning your body. [[The convoy came to a slow stop]]

After hours of travel, the convoy slowly crawls to a stop next to one of the large spires, the stars almost eclipsed by its jutting spikes. The hardened grey earth barely shifts under the boots that trample across it as you and the other students pour out of the armoured vehicles. Invigilators bark out orders, calling for students to set up camp. The thirteen armoured vehicles form a barrier around the campsite, reducing the impact of the howling winds and setting up a perimeter. You, alongside your classmates, move to Block C. An area of land cordoned off by one of the invigilators in which your class and one other class were to make camp. Four hundred students set up their tents and prepare their dinner under the watchful eyes of the invigilators, the men and women walking between the tents, holopads in hand and their faces impassive as they observe. Your backpack was supplied by the academy, and you were told that everything you needed for the soul trial was inside. Within the bag was a tent, a sleeping bag, a tinderbox, a kindling bundle, a pulsefire baton, a simple drone, twelve MREs, a large water pouch, four sets of training clothes and a first aid kit. Using the resources at hand, you quickly set up your tent and prepared dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as a passing invigilator stops briefly at your tent, eyes darting around your setup, before walking to the next tent. Not long after, a few fires spring into existence around the campsite. Students gather around the fires to warm themselves and talk. The sound of crackling fire and soft chatter fills the air. <fieldset>\ <<if $wastelanderbackground is true>>[[• Join one of the fireside chats|wastelander fire]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[• Join one of the fireside chats|other fire]]<<elseif $militarybackground is true>>[[• Join one of the fireside chats|other fire]]<</if>> [[• Explore the campsite]] [[• Stay in your tent]] </fieldset>\ <<set $firstcampday to true>>

After cleaning up and packing away your things, you set out, manoeuvring carefully around tents and moving bodies. A group of students around a fire catches your eye, their bodies illuminated by the dancing flames and their laughter ringing out as they huddle together. One of the students throws back his head as he laughs, and you immediately recognise him as Theo. The deep laugh shows off his dimples and the richness of his sepia-coloured skin is highlighted by the warm orange glow of the fire. A well-maintained and trimmed beard has replaced his once smooth face, and he has grown out his hair. Theo’s eye catches your own, and you watch with faint amusement as he startles, nearly falling to the floor as he stumbles to his feet to greet you. It has been four years since you’ve seen Theo and in that time, he has grown taller and broader. He stands at 6’5” in height now, and his once lean physique has been replaced by a far more muscular frame. [[Sit next to Theo]] <<set $theofiresidechat to true>>

After cleaning up and packing away your things, you set out, manoeuvring carefully around tents and moving bodies. A group of students around a fire catches your eye, their bodies illuminated by the dancing flames and their laughter ringing out as they huddle together. One of the students throws back his head as he laughs, showing off his dimples. The richness of his sepia-coloured skin is highlighted by the warm orange glow of the fire. His thick, black hair is styled into twists that are swept to the left and sides that taper into a fade. The fade goes into his well-maintained and trimmed beard. Spotting you out of the corner of his eye, the man shoots you a friendly smile and waves you over. The man, and the woman next to him by proxy, shuffle to the side, making space for you. In the brief moment he stood up to make space, he towered over everyone around the fire, his 6’5” frame making him far taller than most. [[Sit next to the man]] <<set $firesidechat to true>>

After cleaning up and packing away your things, you set out, manoeuvring carefully around tents and moving bodies. Laughter and chatter fill the chilly night air. Students sit huddled together in front of fires, or tucked away inside their tents. The fires cast a golden hue on those gathered around it, embers dancing above them as they chat and share food. For those tucked into their tents, or near them, their bodies are cast half in shadow. The muted blue hue of their drones’ light focused on their books and surroundings. Their shadows can be seen moving across their tents as they prepare for whatever challenges lie ahead. The studious are seen bent over their books, the sound of turning pages, and words murmured to themselves, following you as you walk past. For those dedicated to their physical training, you give a wide berth, their pulsefire batons out as they refine their forms. Grunts and sharp exhales ring through the air. The crescent moon offers little light for your excursion, and the evening’s darkness robs you of the chance to view the landscape. You were to be satisfied with the smattering of stars strewn across the sky and the looming spire that watches each student silently. The spire was avoided by a majority of the students, most of Block A’s tents were set up on the periphery, and yet barely visible, there was a faint light within the shadow of the spire. Drawing closer, two tents come into view, and you see Astrid and Nico. <<if $astridrelationship >=5>>[[Continue|Twins Camp Nice]]<<elseif $astridrelationship <=5>>[[Continue|Twins Camp Tense]]<</if>> <<set $explorecamp to true>>

Sitting in your tent, you carefully unpack and organise your backpack. The academy strictly limited what you could bring with you, only allowing prescribed medication and class notes. They claimed it was to ensure an equal playing field - everyone would have the same equipment for the trial. With your tent flap pulled back, you easily see the activities of other students. While some eat together around a campfire, there are others who are using their evening to prepare for the soul trial. A group of students jog past your tent, their feet pounding against the ground in perfect unison. Past the group is a woman spinning her pulsefire baton in her hand, a look of concentration on her face as she weaves and bobs around an imaginary enemy. Her shadow stretches across the tent behind her where a student lays on their bedroll, flipping through their class notes. <fieldset>\ [[• You get in some physical training]] [[• You go over your class notes]] [[• Turn in early]] </fieldset>\

Changing into your training clothes, you head out, staying close to your tent. Finding a small open area near the back of your tent, you start to stretch, loosening your muscles. Once warmed up, you slowly go through a series of exercises, a mixture of strength and cardio training. Wiping away the small amount of sweat you’ve built up, you lean into your tent, retrieving your pulsefire baton. The gadget roars to life in your hand, the pale blue light illuminating your face as you activate it. Carefully, you run through different combinations, practicing your jabs, thrusts and slashes. The air around you hums as the pulsefire baton strikes at your imaginary foes. The muscles in your arms and legs burn as you spend your evening going through various drills. With a final grunt you finish your session, holding your low squat jab, sweat dripping down your face. Standing, you grimace as your shirt sticks to you, the humidity of the evening out in full force. Grabbing your toiletries you head to your section's temporary shower stalls. Approaching the shower stalls, you see a group of students ahead, loitering and talking softly amongst themselves. “Did you hear about what happened at Block A?” <fieldset>\ [[• Listen to the group]] [[• Head straight to the shower]] </fieldset>\ <<set $combat +=5>> <<set $tentcombat to true>>

Closing your tent flap and activating your drone, you crawl into your bedroll, getting comfortable with your notes. The air is filled with the soft hum of your drone as it hovers above, shining a soft light onto your notes. With pen in hand, you go over your notes carefully, highlighting and circling information you believe could be relevant. You narrow your focus around the geographical landscape of the wastelands and exilliums. Broad subjects, but based on your current location and speculations on what the soul trial could be, it seemed like the safest bet. You absorbed the information, ink darkening the side of your hand and fingers. The thought of stopping only occurred once the words started to blur together, your eyes dry and drooping. With a yawn you pack your notes away, the rustling of paper and your shuffling fills the air. The campsite is quiet, a lot of the students in their tents, only the invigilators out and about. As you’re tucking yourself into your bedroll, ready to sleep, you hear footsteps approaching your tent. The minimal light from outside is cut off as two shadows hover outside, your tent engulfed in darkness. “There are too few of us for how many students we have to look after.” “You know they can’t spare the staff, there are just too many missions.” <fieldset>\ [[• Listen to the invigilators]] [[• Block out their voices and sleep]] </fieldset>\ <<set $tactician +=5>> <<set $tenttactician to true>>

Content to turn in early, you quickly settle into your bedroll, the tent flap zipped up, sealing yourself away from the outside world. Laying on your bedroll, you listen to the activity outside, the laughter and chatter of those around the campfires, and the soft grunts of those training nearby. You feel your eyes grow heavy, the evening’s activity acting as white noise, lulling you to sleep. Shadows dance across your tent walls as you drift off, students jogging pass and invigilators quietly observing everyone. Your chest rises and falls gently as you sleep, your hand twitching in your sleep as it moves to rest above your scar. A small crinkle between your brows disturbing your otherwise peaceful expression. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

You slow your walk to a crawl, interested in the conversation between the students. “Did you hear about what happened at Block A?” One of the girls asks, an impish smile on her face as she leans in, her friends leaning in instinctively. “No! What happened? Did someone get caught sneaking into another’s tent?” The group giggles, hushing each other and looking around for invigilators. You duck your head when they search the area, pretending to inspect the shower stalls, opening one at random and poking your head in. “A fight broke out between some of the students. Apparently someone got knocked out!” “No way” “Are you sure?” “Yes! The invigilators had to break it up.” //A fight?// You’re skeptical, fighting was already not tolerated in the academy outside of training exercises. You find it difficult to believe students would fight during the soul trial - the consequences would be far more severe. You enter the shower and clean up, drowning out the group’s voice with the spray of lukewarm water. By the time you finish your shower, the group has left and most students have entered their tents to sleep. Tucking yourself into your bedroll you fall asleep, the students’ words at the back of your mind. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>> <<set $blockarumours to true>>

Content to ignore the idle chatter of the students, you make your way towards the shower stalls. Their giggles and theatrical gasps are quickly drowned out by the spray of lukewarm water. You quickly clean yourself and head back to your tent, the group long gone by the time you exit the stall. Most students have entered their tents to sleep, you note on your way back. The campfires stamped out and the campsite quiet as you walked back to your tent. You are quick to follow their example. Tucking yourself into your bed, the soft footsteps of the invigilators and the hum of the trucks act as white noise, lulling you to sleep. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

The convoy crawls to a stop at the foot of <<if $wastelanderbackground is true>>Oyja’s Shield.<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is false>>Grimdare Peaks.<</if>>A mountain range of steep, sloping sides and jagged peaks. The rock that makes up the landform is a striking red, with patches of vibrant green alpine flora scattered sparsely across the faces. The peaks stretch towards the clouds and the mountains continue past the horizon. The once-cracked and desolate landscape has come alive. Jumping out of the armoured vehicle, you land amongst vegetation that is unlike anything near Voxis. There are shrubs with small erect stems and lanceolate leaves arranged in dense rosettes that curl inward. The leaves are yellowish-green and bright red teeth jut out of the leaf margins like a bloody grin. Dotted around the shrubs are small, hardy and stemless aloes. Their dark green leaves are covered with white spots and spikes. Salmon-pink flowers bloom atop the plants and stand out against the more earthy tones alongside the blue and purple reeds that sway in the wind. During your journey, it was rare to see an animal of any kind. But now, dassies peer out from their burrows and birds dart from flower to flower, their long beaks disappearing between the petals as their wings beat furiously. Mice scamper and climb across the rocks that blue-headed lizards rest upon, the bodies of the lizards flat across the hot rocks. Their curious eyes watch as the convoy is emptied, students pouring into their habitat. Those who have never stepped foot outside of a city stare mouth agape at the scenery, their necks craned back or twisting from side to side, wonder in their faces. The hot sun bears down on you and you find yourself squinting against its stinging rays, trying to peer into the cave ahead. [[The cave]]

Before the sun fully rises, you are forced awake by the invigilators. Their orders ring out across the campsite - drones amplifying their voices. The drones hover above each block, their blue lights blinking over the dazed faces of students. With militant efficiency, the invigilators have all four hundred of you break camp and escorted to your vehicles. The more sleep deprived students stumble under the watchful eyes of the invigilators. But once back on the road, they are left to sleep, the students’ heads bobbing up and down or rattling against the windows. Voxis has disappeared, the horizon swallowing the city. The convoy travels for a full day, your back aches from the rough terrain and long hours. The breaks are few and far between - students stepping out to stretch their legs or dig pit latrines. The invigilators and drivers have set a punishing pace. When the convoy stops to make camp, the decision is met with relieved sighs. Students rush out, eager to be away from the vehicles. According to your invigilator, tonight will be your final evening in the wastelands. You should arrive at the testing grounds tomorrow. How would you like to spend your evening? <fieldset>\ <<if $theofiresidechat is true>>Join one of the fireside chats<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is true>>[[• Join one of the fireside chats|wastelander fire]]<<elseif $firesidechat is true>>Join one of the fireside chats<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is false>>[[• Join one of the fireside chats|other fire]]<</if>> <<if $explorecamp is false>>[[• Explore the campsite]]<<elseif $explorecamp is true>>Explore the campsite<</if>> [[• Stay in your tent]] </fieldset>\ <<set $secondcampday to true>>

Interest piqued, you lay silent, careful not to alert the invigilators to your presence. There is a brief spark of light, one of the invigilators lighting a cigarette, before you are shrouded in shadow once again. “We’re spread too thin. If we don’t get a larger batch of recruits this year, things will only get worse.” “Maybe next year the director will change the test to a written exam, and pump the numbers up.” The two quietly chuckle, their boots scraping against the ground as their voices grow softer, the pair moving away from your tent. You can faintly make out the last of their conversation, straining your ears. “She just might. The reserves are being called out to help deal with the recent surge of exillium activity in the southside. If this keeps up, even the new recruits will be forced out with barely any training to supplement the numbers.” “Fuck, wet behind the ears and tossed onto the frontlines. What a world we live in.” A cold shiver runs down your spine, their words echoing in your mind. //The news hasn’t mentioned any attacks in the south…// It takes you a while to fall asleep, your mind racing with the information, unsure what to make of it. Eventually, you fall into an uneasy sleep. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>> <<set $southattackrumours to true>>

Rolling over, you pull your pillow over your head, desperate to block out the voices so you could sleep. With the pillow, their voices become muffled, their quiet conversation becoming white noise. You run over the information in your notes, letting the steady flow of repetition and their voices lull you to sleep. It is not long before your eyes droop and your grip on your pillow loosens. Sleep claiming you. You never hear what they spoke about. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

“$name… It’s good to see you,” Theo says warmly, his dark-brown eyes crinkling as he stares. Others around the fire shift away, chatting amongst themselves, giving the two of you space for your reunion. You settle onto the hard earth, the ashy grey dirt clinging to your clothes as you shift and try to get comfortable. “It’s good to see you too, Theo.” You reply, your body turned to face him. “I never considered the possibility of your academy being grouped with mine for the soul trial. Are there others from New Dawn here?” You tilt your head in question, the fire bathing you in a golden hue. Theo pulls his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees as he thinks, the fire’s red embers reflected in his eyes. “Ezekiel, Khaya and Ashwin are here, although they’re in a different block since we weren’t in the same class back at Maverock Academy. I haven’t explored the campsite, so I’m not sure if there are any others around.” “I remain the sole New Dawn member at Buchholz,” You reply with a rueful smile, “There are a handful of other wastelanders at Buchholz, and we stick together, but it is a lonely time. A lot of the students avoid us.” You stare at the fire, your lips pursed and nails digging into your arms as you recall the years of isolation. You are brought out of your recollection by a gentle bump, Theo swaying into you, his arm pressing into your side to ground you. His arm is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly night air. <fieldset>\ [[• Lean into his side]] [[• Pull away]] </fieldset>\

Seeking warmth, you shift until you are pressed against his side, resting your head on his arm. He tenses, not expecting the action, but it is not long before his head slowly lowers to rest on yours. For a period, neither of you speaks, the snap and crackle of the fire and quiet chatter of the others fills the night air. “I wish we didn’t drift apart,” Theo says, breaking the silence. His fingers wander across the ashy grey dirt, scratching patterns into the earth before wiping them away and starting over. A film of dust steadily coating his hand. It was difficult for wastelanders to communicate with family and friends in the academy. With New Dawn moving every few months, you could only wait to receive a letter from your parents with their new location, before sending out your own. Buchholz Academy was strict with its communication channels and students. The academy pushed their students; every hour accounted for in a day. If you weren’t training, you were in class, and meals and recreational activities were timed. It was difficult to find time for rest, let alone make time for those outside the academy. <fieldset>\ [[• “We have time to fix that now”]] [[• “I guess that’s part of growing up”]] </fieldset>\

You gently pull away from Theo, creating space between the two of you. Sadness flashes across his face before smoothening into an expression of concern, tucking his arms tightly against his side to avoid touching you. His mouth opens as if to ask a question, before clicking shut. For a period, neither of you speaks, the snap and crackle of the fire and quiet chatter of the others fills the night air. “Sorry, I just… It’s nice seeing a familiar face. You remind me of home,” Theo says, breaking the silence. His voice is low, and his head is bowed, almost hidden in his arms. It was difficult for wastelanders to communicate with family and friends in the academy. With New Dawn moving every few months, you could only wait to receive a letter from your parents with their new location, before sending out your own. Buchholz Academy was strict with its communication channels and students. The academy pushed their students; every hour accounted for in a day. If you weren’t training, you were in class, and meals and recreational activities were timed. It was difficult to find time for rest, let alone make time for those outside the academy. <fieldset>\ [[• “I’m glad to have a familiar face around as well”]] [[• “Not long until you can return home”]] </fieldset>\

You tilt your head up, forcing Theo to lift his head and peer down at you. You grin as you say, “No time like the present to fix that, right?” Theo blinks owlishly at you before his body begins to shake as he tries to muffle his laughter, not wanting to call attention to the invigilators. “Yes, you’re right.” He chuckles, his eyes alight with mirth. “Of course I’m right. Have I ever led you astray?” You reply. Theo’s right eyebrow rises as he crosses his arms, “Have you forgotten our entire childhood?” You turn away, “Some of those events should not be held against me because youthful folly is the enemy of everyone. We weren’t the only people to fall prey to it.” You answer back with a sniff. “Hmm,” Theo hums non-committally, a small smile on his face. One by one, the others leave, heading to bed as the fire becomes low. Only Theo and you are left in front of the fire, chatting quietly and leaning against one another. [[Continue|Theo fire chat]] <<set $theoromanceflag +=1>> <<set $theorelationship +=5>>\

“I guess that’s part of growing up,” You murmur, eyes never leaving the fire. “We were pulled onto different paths and life became more than just the commune. We were exposed to a world beyond what we knew all our life.” Theo sighs, and you feel the rough scratch of his beard against your scalp. “I think if given the chance, we could still walk the same path,” Theo says, “You only lose people when you aren’t willing to hold onto them.” A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, Theo’s words ringing in your mind. Both of you are content to stare into the fire and contemplate the past years. One by one, the others leave, heading to bed as the fire becomes low. Only Theo and you are left in front of the fire, chatting quietly and leaning against one another. [[Continue|Theo fire chat]] <<set $theoromanceflag +=1>> <<set $theorelationship +=5>>\

“What do you think the trial will entail?” Theo asks, poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive. “I’m not sure,” You answer, eyebrows furrowed as you try to remember the whispers that filled the first hour of travel, “But a lot of people seem convinced we will be fighting exilliums or thrown into a forest and made to survive off the land.” Theo shakes his head, “No. I don’t think that will be the case. They’re taking us towards Oyja’s Shield, and no exillium has ever been sighted there.” Oyja’s Shield is the name given to the mountains that act as a barrier and border between Strize and Helios, a neighbouring country. The mainlanders refer to the mountain range as Grimdare Peaks, and there are often scientists seen exploring the area. They believe that there must be a reason why exilliums avoid the mountain range. However, no conclusive evidence has been found yet. For wastelanders, it is believed that the goddess Oyja protects the mountains and keeps exilliums away because it is a holy site. Wastelander communes can often be seen travelling to Oyja’s Shield during the summer to leave offerings at the foot of the mountain, praying for protection for their people and cattle. “No forests nearby to be thrown into either,” Theo jokes. “What makes you so confident that our final destination will be Oyja’s Shield?” You ask, watching as Theo points towards the night sky, waving his stick at a cluster of stars. “It’s just a gut feeling,” He remarks mysteriously, his dimples flashing as he grins. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”]] [[• “Did you prepare for the trial?”]] [[• “What was Maverock Academy like?”]] [[• Head to bed]] </fieldset>\

“I’m glad to have a familiar face around as well,” You offer, drawing Theo’s face out from his arms with your words. “There were other wastelanders at Buchholz, but no one from New Dawn, no one from home.” You direct a tentative smile towards Theo, a peace offering. He returns your smile with a bright smile of his own, relief replacing his distraught expression. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, both of you are content to stare into the fire and contemplate the past years. One by one, the others leave, heading to bed as the fire becomes low. Only Theo and you are left in front of the fire, chatting quietly. [[Continue|Theo fire chat]] <<set $theorelationship +=3>>

“Not long until you can return home,” You offer awkwardly, drawing Theo’s face out from his arms with your words. “We’ll be allowed to take leave during the enlistment period to visit family,” You direct a tentative smile towards Theo, a peace offering. He returns your smile with a bright smile of his own, relief replacing his distraught expression. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, both of you are content to stare into the fire and contemplate the past years. One by one, the others leave, heading to bed as the fire becomes low. Only Theo and you are left in front of the fire, chatting quietly. [[Continue|Theo fire chat]] <<set $theorelationship +=3>>

“Do you want to join the soulforge order?” You ask with curiosity in your voice. Theo looks up from the fire, tapping his stick against the ground as he thinks, “Maybe?” His reply is hesitant. “I have no love for the military but if I’m forced to work for them, I think being a soulforge warrior would be the best way to use my two years.” “They protect people and make Azish a safer place. It is a worthy pursuit no matter who they work for.” He nods as if confirming something to himself, “The Old Gods themselves were our protectors once upon a time, and it would be an honour to follow in their footsteps.” He shrugs, “But that's if it’s even possible. The amount of people who become soulforge warriors has dropped each year. Who knows how many of us will pass.” He’s not wrong. There has been a steady decline in soulforge warriors over the last ten years. There are fewer and fewer people passing the soul trial and joining the order each year. Just last year, only 2% of the graduating class became soulforge warriors and if things carry on as they were, it may be less this year. [[Ask Theo another question]] <<set $asktheojso to true>>

“Did you prepare for the trial?” “In the traditional sense? No.” Theo shakes his head, “I simply prayed to the All-Mother and asked for her guidance. What happens next is all according to her will.” Theo has always had a strong connection to the Old Gods, his confidence in them unshakeable, and it has allowed him to navigate life with an air of conviction unseen in most. It is heartening in a sense to see that the last four years have not changed that aspect of him. You think of the talismans given to you by your parents and wonder if Theo’s fathers have sent talismans as well. When you ask, he simply laughs and digs into his pocket, revealing two talismans. A talisman of Feldir and a talisman of Destia. “My fathers sought blessings from Feldir, to grant me the knowledge necessary to handle the challenges ahead, and from the All-Mother, to show me the path that I must travel.” [[Ask Theo another question]] <<set $asktheopft to true>>

“What was Maverock Academy like?” You’ve always been curious about life at other academies. Buchholz Academy had state-of-the-art facilities and renowned instructors. Elites fought to have their children attend the prestigious academy. Competition was cut-throat, and you couldn’t help but wonder if the other academies in Strize were similar. “Small.” “Small?” You echo incredulously. Theo nods, “There were only three hundred students in the entire academy. My year had fifty students. The instructors did their best with the resources they had, but there was a clear disparity between our funding and the funding for the surrounding academies.” “Surely the budget for academies should be evenly allocated in a region,” You say, stunned by the information. Theo shrugs, “They claim that the wall repairs had drained a lot of the budget and every academy in Matjo was feeling the effects.” Matjo was a small city two hundred kilometres away from Voxis, and they frequently suffered exillium sieges due to their city being built out in the open and below sea level. “It wasn’t all bad, though. There were hardly any military brats, and I got to speak to members of different communes and learn from them. There was also a lot less pressure on us, no one expects much from Maverock students.” [[Ask Theo another question]] <<set $asktheohmw to true>>

A yawn sneaks up on you and your eyes water as you try to stifle it. Blinking you look around, only noticing now that most people have returned to their tents. The crackling fires and quiet chatter have been replaced by the soft footsteps of patrolling invigilators and the high-pitched chirps of nearby crickets. “We should turn in,” Theo yawns, wincing as he stands up. You nod, following him to his feet. Together, the two of you stamp out the fire and clean up. “I’ll see you around, $name. Don’t be a stranger,” Theo calls out as he walks to his tent. You wave goodbye and make the short journey to your tent. Crawling into your sleeping bag you quickly pass out, the invigilators' soft murmurs and the chorus of crickets lulling you to a dreamless sleep. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

Theo stares at you with an open expression, a small smile on his face. The fire’s embers reflecting in his eyes even as the fire you sit before burns low. He plays with the stick in his hand, the tip singed from coaxing the fire. The sound of crackling fire fills the air as a lull in the conversation forms as you ponder your next question. <fieldset>\ <<if $asktheojso is true>>“Do you want to join the soulforge order?”<<elseif $asktheojso is false>>[[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”]]<</if>> <<if $asktheopft is true>>“Did you prepare for the trial?”<<elseif $asktheopft is false>>[[• “Did you prepare for the trial?”]]<</if>> <<if $asktheohmw is true>>“What was Maverock Academy like?”<<elseif $asktheohmw is false>>[[• “What was Maverock Academy like?”]]<</if>> [[• Head to bed]] </fieldset>\

As soon as you join the group, the man introduces himself, “Hi there, I’m Theodore, but everyone calls me Theo.” He stretches out his large hand for a handshake, faint white scars barely visible in the shadows of the night decorating his knuckles. You shake his hand and introduce yourself in turn; the calluses on his palm brushing against the inside of your hand. The others quickly follow, introducing themselves before returning to their conversations, only Theo giving you his full attention. He shifts his body so that he can face you, carefully hugging his knees to his chest to avoid entering your personal space. Resting his chin on his knees, he stares at you, a warm smile on his face. “So, $name, what brings you to our little fire,” He asks with a grin. <fieldset>\ [[• “I was cold,” You joke]] [[• “Curiosity mostly,” You reply]] [[• “I’m not sure,” You answer]] </fieldset>\ <<set $haveMetTheo to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Theo added<</notify>>\

“I was cold,” You joke, throwing in a shiver for good measure. Theo laughs, the fire’s red embers reflecting in his dark-brown eyes. “Well, I’m glad you came over here then. Can’t have you freezing to death before the soul trial.” He replies; mirth is evident in his voice, his dimples on full display. “What inspired your group to start a fire?” You question, tilting your head in interest. Most of the students have tucked themselves away in their tents, choosing to have an early night or prepare themselves for the soul trial. The tents’ dim lights show shadowy figures reading, practising their strikes or tweaking their drones. “We decided to break bread together. Everyone here is a wastelander,” He nods to the people around the fire, “And it is tradition to break bread and share stories at dinner. Although we are not from the same commune, our faith draws us together.” As he speaks, you notice he is watching you closely, waiting for a reaction. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you all worship the Old Gods?” You ask]] [[• “What kind of stories do you share?”]] <<if $militarybackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire military chat]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire orphan chat]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\ <<set $theorelationship +=5>> <<set $coldfirechat to true>>\

“Curiosity, mostly,” You reply as you shift and try to get comfortable on the hard earth. The ashy grey dirt clings to your clothes as you shuffle around, “Your group caught my attention while I was wandering around the campsite.” The group’s merriment was a stark contrast to the rest of the students in the camp Most of the students have tucked themselves away in their tents, choosing to have an early night or prepare themselves for the soul trial. The tents’ dim lights show shadowy figures reading, practising their strikes or tweaking their drones. You wanted to know why Theo and his friends chose to start a fire and chat. “What inspired your group to start a fire?” You question, tilting your head in interest. “We decided to break bread together. Everyone here is a wastelander,” He nods to the people around the fire, “And it is tradition to break bread and share stories at dinner. Although we are not from the same commune, our faith draws us together.” As he speaks, you notice he is watching you closely, waiting for a reaction. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you all worship the Old Gods?” You ask]] [[• “What kind of stories do you share?”]] <<if $militarybackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire military chat]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire orphan chat]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\ <<set $theorelationship +=3>> <<set $curiousfirechat to true>>\

You give an awkward shrug, “I’m not sure.” Theo wears a slightly baffled expression but quickly recovers, offering you a warm smile, “That’s okay. I’m sure this was a serendipitous meeting. I’m always happy to meet new people and learn about them.” His response is earnest, and the fire’s red embers are reflected in his dark-brown eyes. While you were unsure why exactly you sat down, you were glad you did. It allowed you to learn more about Theo and his group. Most of the students have tucked themselves away in their tents, choosing to have an early night or prepare themselves for the soul trial. The tents’ dim lights show shadowy figures reading, practising their strikes or tweaking their drones. Yet, Theo and his group sat around a fire, sharing stories and laughing, their merriment a stark contrast to the rest of the students. “What inspired your group to start a fire?” You question, tilting your head in interest. “We decided to break bread together. Everyone here is a wastelander,” He nods to the people around the fire, “And it is tradition to break bread and share stories at dinner. Although we are not from the same commune, our faith draws us together.” As he speaks, you notice he is watching you closely, waiting for a reaction. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you all worship the Old Gods?” You ask]] [[• “What kind of stories do you share?”]] <<if $militarybackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire military chat]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire orphan chat]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\ <<set $notsurefirechat to true>>

One by one, the others leave, heading to bed as the fire becomes low. Only Theo and you are left in front of the fire, chatting quietly. “What do you think the trial will entail?” Theo asks, poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive. “I’m not sure,” You answer, eyebrows furrowed as you try to remember the whispers that filled the first hour of travel. “A lot of people seem convinced we will be fighting exilliums or thrown into a forest and made to survive off the land.” You eventually answer, a wry smile coming to your face at the thought, “But I doubt it. I’ve spoken to a lot of soldiers and from the snippets they’ve revealed, the test is more intense than that. It is made to test more than just our physical strength and mental fortitude. Whatever that means.” Theo nods, “I think you’re right. They’re taking us towards Oyja’s Shield, and no exillium has ever been sighted there. It would be strange for us to head to that location if they expect us to fight an exillium.” You stare at Theo in confusion, and he quickly clarifies, “The mountain range you call Grimdare Peaks, my people call it Oyja’s Shield.” “I see,” You nod to yourself, making a mental note of the name. You don’t know much about the Grimdare Peaks, only that there are often scientists seen exploring the area. Trying to uncover the reason behind why exilliums avoid the mountain range. However, no conclusive evidence has been found yet. “No forests nearby to be thrown into either,” Theo jokes. “What makes you so confident that our final destination will be Grimdare Peaks?” You ask, watching as Theo points towards the night sky, waving his stick at a cluster of stars. “It’s just a gut feeling,” He remarks mysteriously, his dimples flashing as he grins. <fieldset>\ [[• “Why do you call the mountains, Oyja’s Shield?”]] [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|mil ver 1]] [[• “Did you prepare for the trial?”|mil ver 2]] [[• “What was Maverock Academy like?”|mil ver 3]] [[• Head to bed|mil ver 4]] </fieldset>\

One by one, the others leave, heading to bed as the fire becomes low. Only Theo and you are left in front of the fire, chatting quietly. “What do you think the trial will entail?” Theo asks, poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive. “I’m not sure,” You answer, eyebrows furrowed as you try to remember the whispers that filled the first hour of travel. “A lot of people seem convinced we will be fighting exilliums or thrown into a forest and made to survive off the land.” You eventually answer, laughing at the rumours, “But I doubt it. There are too many children from important families around us to risk something like that. The military would lose all their funding if anything were to happen to them.” Theo joins in on the laughter, “I think you’re right. I’m pretty sure we’re heading towards Oyja’s Shield, and no exillium has ever been sighted there. It would be strange for us to head to that location if they expect us to fight an exillium.” You stare at Theo in confusion, and he quickly clarifies, “The mountain range you call Grimdare Peaks, my people call it Oyja’s Shield.” “Oyja’s Shield,” You echo, the old woman from the night market coming to mind as you repeat the goddess’s name. You don’t know much about the Grimdare Peaks, only that there are often scientists seen exploring the area. Trying to uncover the reason behind why exilliums avoid the mountain range. However, no conclusive evidence has been found yet. “No forests nearby to be thrown into either,” Theo jokes. “What makes you so confident that our final destination will be Grimdare Peaks?” You ask, watching as Theo points towards the night sky, waving his stick at a cluster of stars. “It’s just a gut feeling,” He remarks mysteriously, his dimples flashing as he grins. <fieldset>\ [[• “Why do you call the mountains, Oyja’s Shield?”|orp ver 1]] [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|orp ver 2]] [[• “Did you prepare for the trial?”|orp ver 3]] [[• “What was Maverock Academy like?”|orp ver 4]] [[• Head to bed|orp ver 5]] </fieldset>\

“You mentioned that your faith draws you together, does that mean you all worship the Old Gods?” You ask with curiosity in your voice. Theo smiles at your question, “Yes, although some have chosen to only worship one God instead of all of them. It depends on how they were raised in their commune.” “For example, in my commune, we worship Destia, the All-Mother.” He pauses, checking to see if you are still listening, when you nod he continues, “Although Destia is our main patron we still offer up our prayers to the other Gods and celebrate them. New Dawn, my commune, believes that every God is important and should be revered.” “I never knew… I assumed that it would be more uniform. That there would be only one way to worship the Old Gods,” You say. Theo shakes his head, “Perhaps it was like that at the beginning but with communes being nomadic it is not often that we cross paths. Celebrations and prayers have changed as communes fractured into smaller groups, their new traditions and culture giving rise to a shift in their faith.” “Every commune practises their faith differently but ultimately, we are still tied together by our love for the Old Gods. And that is enough.” [[Ask another question|Questions on Old Gods]] <<set $theorelationship +=1>> <<set $worshipgods to true>>

Your attention is drawn away from Theo as the group next to you burst into laughter, their feet kicking out in glee. “What kind of stories do you share?” You ask, eyes never leaving the group, their faces lit up in joy as they speak rapidly and gesture wildly as tales are shared. “If our elders are present? Mostly stories of their glory days.” Theo jokes with a grin. “In truth? We pass down the history of our commune, the people in it and the achievements made. There are few scriptures for our faith, so a lot of it is shared orally as well.” A wave of sadness passes Theo’s face as he reminisces. [[Ask another question|Questions on Old Gods]] <<set $theorelationship +=1>> <<set $storiestell to true>>

Theo answered your question with a large smile, unable to hide his delight over the fact that you showed interest in learning more about him and the Old Gods. "Do you have any other questions about the Old Gods?" His words are earnest and his eyes shine as he stares at you. You purse your lips in thought. <fieldset>\ <<if $worshipgods is false>>[[• “Do you all worship the Old Gods?” You ask]]<<elseif $worshipgods is true>>“Do you all worship the Old Gods?” You ask<</if>> <<if $storiestell is false>>[[• “What kind of stories do you share?”]]<<elseif $storiestell is true>>“What kind of stories do you share?”<</if>> <<if $militarybackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire military chat]]<<elseif $orphanbackground is true>>[[• The conversation shifts, and Theo asks you a question|Fire orphan chat]]<</if>>\ </fieldset>\

“Do you want to join the soulforge order?” You ask with curiosity in your voice. Your class had no wastelanders, and you were interested in hearing the thoughts of someone raised outside Voxis. Theo looks up from the fire, tapping his stick against the ground as he thinks, “Maybe?” His reply is hesitant. “I have no love for the military but if I’m forced to work for them, I think being a soulforge warrior would be the best way to use my two years. They protect people and make Azish a safer place. It is a worthy pursuit no matter who they work for.” He nods as if confirming something to himself, “The Old Gods themselves were our protectors once upon a time, and it would be an honour to follow in their footsteps.” Maria’s face flashes across your mind, remembering how her squadron single-handedly saved your father’s ship from an S-Class exillium. Theo shrugs, “But that's if it’s even possible. The amount of people who become soulforge warriors has dropped each year. Who knows how many of us will pass.” He’s not wrong. There has been a steady decline in soulforge warriors over the last ten years. There are fewer and fewer people passing the soul trial and joining the order each year. Just last year, only 2% of the graduating class became soulforge warriors and if things carry on as they were, it may be less this year. However, it was still strange to hear his hesitance. The students in your class would jump at the opportunity to become a soulforge warrior. The prestigious title would increase the social capital of their family, securing riches and influence, yet that seemed to hold no relevance to Theo. [[Ask another question|Fire mil Ask Theo]] <<set $theojso to true>>

“Did you prepare for the trial?” “In the traditional sense? No.” Theo shakes his head, “I’ve prayed to the All-Mother and asked for her guidance. What happens next is all according to her will.” Theo carefully pulls out two leather items from his pocket. On closer inspection, you recognise them as talismans. You’ve seen them sold in the lower ring districts of Voxis. Both talismans are made from natural leather, but one is embellished with fine silver and green thread while the other has silver and blue thread. There are prayers, written in a language you are unfamiliar with, burnt into the back and the front of the talismans have symbols carefully and intricately stitched into it. “My fathers sought blessings from Feldir, to grant me the knowledge necessary to handle the challenges ahead, and from the All-Mother, to show me the path that I must travel.” He gestures to the silver and green talisman when he says Feldir and the silver and blue talisman when he says the All-Mother. [[Ask another question|Fire mil Ask Theo]] <<set $theopst to true>>

“What was Maverock Academy like?” Theo briefly mentioned that he attended Maverock Academy, and you were curious about what the academy was like. From your experience, Buchholz Academy was a prestigious academy known for its state-of-the-art facilities and renowned instructors and was nothing like other academies. Military families fought to have their children attend Buchholz, and the competition was cut-throat. You know for a fact that no other academy had as stringent requirements as Buchholz or pushed their students as hard. You wanted to know what life was like for those who didn’t have to uphold a legacy. “Small.” “Small?” You echo perplexed. Theo nods, “There were only three hundred students in the entire academy. My year had fifty students. The instructors did their best with the resources they had, but there was a clear disparity between our funding and the funding for the surrounding academies.” “That can’t be right,” You say, stunned by the information, “All academies in a region have to abide by the same standards of education.” Theo shrugs, “They claim that the wall repairs had drained a lot of the budget and every academy in Matjo was feeling the effects.” Matjo was a small city two hundred kilometres away from Voxis, and they frequently suffered exillium sieges due to their city being built out in the open and below sea level. “It wasn’t all bad, though. There were hardly any military brats, and I got to speak to members of different communes and learn from them. There was also a lot less pressure on us, no one expects much from Maverock students.” You take mental notes of Theo’s words, wanting to follow up on his statement. Something was wrong, and you were intent on finding out what. [[Ask another question|Fire mil Ask Theo]] <<set $theomave to true>>

A yawn sneaks up on you and your eyes water as you try to stifle it. Blinking, you look around, only noticing now that most people have returned to their tents. The crackling fires and quiet chatter have been replaced by the soft footsteps of patrolling invigilators and the high-pitched chirps of nearby crickets. “We should turn in,” Theo yawns, wincing as he stands up. You nod, following him to his feet. Together, the two of you stamp out the fire and clean up. “Thanks for the fun evening, $name! I hope we meet again.” Theo calls out as he walks to his tent. You wave goodbye and make the short journey to your tent. As you crawl into your sleeping bag, you think about all the new information you’ve learnt. Theo’s voice, the invigilators' soft murmurs and the chorus of crickets lull you to a dreamless sleep. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

“You mentioned earlier that your people call the Grimdare Peaks, Oyja’s Shield. Why do you call it that?” You ask, your tongue struggling around the unfamiliar syllables of the goddess’s name. “How much do you know about the goddess Oyja?” “Nothing. The Old Gods were never taught to us at school, and my family has always resided in Voxis and were never exposed to the old faith.” Theo is silent, his face drawn into an expression of contemplation as he carefully considers his next words. “Oyja is the goddess of Order and War. She watches over our people during times of strife and brings balance. She is a great warrior, and she is seen as a protector.” “According to our elders, Oyja sculpted the mountains with her hands to shield her people from the rising floods and brutal winds that attack from the eastern lands. We believe that Oyja watches over these mountains still, and that is why exilliums fear to tread upon her land.” “It is why wastelander communes can often be seen travelling to Oyja’s Shield during the summer to leave offerings at the foot of the mountain. We believe it to be a holy site, and we often pray for her protection.” [[Ask another question|Fire mil Ask Theo]] <<set $oyjaname to true>>

Theo stares at you with an open expression, a small smile on his face. The fire’s embers reflecting in his eyes even as the fire you sit before burns low. He plays with the stick in his hand, the tip singed from coaxing the fire. The sound of crackling fire fills the air as a lull in the conversation forms as you ponder your next question. <fieldset>\ <<if $oyjaname is false>>[[• “Why do you call the mountains, Oyja’s Shield?”]]<<elseif $oyjaname is true>>“Why do you call the mountains, Oyja’s Shield?”<</if>> <<if $theojso is false>>[[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|mil ver 1]]<<elseif $theojso is true>> “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”<</if>> <<if $theopst is false>>[[• “Did you prepare for the trial?”|mil ver 2]]<<elseif $theopst is true>>“Did you prepare for the trial?”<</if>> <<if $theomave is false>>[[• “What was Maverock Academy like?”|mil ver 3]]<<elseif $theomave is true>>“What was Maverock Academy like?”<</if>> [[• Head to bed|mil ver 4]] </fieldset>\

“You mentioned earlier that your people call the Grimdare Peaks, Oyja’s Shield. Why do you call it that?” You ask, interested in learning more about Theo’s culture and perhaps rekindling the knowledge you once had when you were younger and sat at the feet of the adults who spoke of the old faith around the night market. “How much do you know about the goddess Oyja?” “Not much. There was an old lady at the night market who would sell charms with the Old Gods' symbols on them. They had prayers written on the back of them. When I would wander around the market, sometimes I hung around her stall and she would tell me about them. She’s the goddess of Order and War, right?” You ask tentatively. Theo smiles and nods encouragingly. “You’re right. Oyja is the goddess of Order and War. She watches over our people during times of strife and brings balance. She is a great warrior, and she is seen as a protector.” “According to our elders, Oyja sculpted the mountains with her hands to shield her people from the rising floods and brutal winds that attack from the eastern lands. We believe that Oyja watches over these mountains still, and that is why exilliums fear to tread upon her land.” “It is why wastelander communes can often be seen travelling to Oyja’s Shield during the summer to leave offerings at the foot of the mountain. We believe it to be a holy site, and we often pray for her protection.” [[Ask another question|Fire orp Ask Theo]] <<set $oyjaname to true>>

“Do you want to join the soulforge order?” You ask with curiosity in your voice. Your class was split in attitude, some wanted an easy enlistment so they could skate by for the two years, while others hoped to become a soulforge warrior for the prestige, elevating their status in society. Theo looks up from the fire, tapping his stick against the ground as he thinks, “Maybe?” His reply is hesitant. “I have no love for the military but if I’m forced to work for them, I think being a soulforge warrior would be the best way to use my two years. They protect people and make Azish a safer place. It is a worthy pursuit no matter who they work for.” He nods as if confirming something to himself, “The Old Gods themselves were our protectors once upon a time, and it would be an honour to follow in their footsteps.” Spencer’s face flashes across your mind, and you swallow roughly, forcing back the memory. Theo shrugs, “But that's if it’s even possible. The amount of people who become soulforge warriors has dropped each year. Who knows how many of us will pass.” He’s not wrong. There has been a steady decline in soulforge warriors over the last ten years. There are fewer and fewer people passing the soul trial and joining the order each year. Just last year, only 2% of the graduating class became soulforge warriors and if things carry on as they were, it may be less this year. But in that brief moment, he reminded you of Spencer… [[Ask another question|Fire orp Ask Theo]] <<set $theojso to true>>

“Did you prepare for the trial?” “In the traditional sense? No.” Theo shakes his head, “I’ve prayed to the All-Mother and asked for her guidance. What happens next is all according to her will.” Theo carefully pulls out two leather items from his pocket. On closer inspection, you recognise them as the same charms the old lady sold at her stall in the night market. However, the craftsmanship was leagues ahead of the charms. Both talismans are made from natural leather, but one is embellished with fine silver and green thread, while the other has silver and blue thread. There are prayers, written in a language you are unfamiliar with, burnt into the back and the front of the talismans have symbols carefully and intricately stitched into it. “My fathers sought blessings from Feldir, to grant me the knowledge necessary to handle the challenges ahead, and from the All-Mother, to show me the path that I must travel.” He gestures to the silver and green talisman when he says Feldir and the silver and blue talisman when he says the All-Mother. You must have been staring too hard at the talismans because Theo offers to make one for you when the soul trial is over. [[Ask another question|Fire orp Ask Theo]] <<set $theopst to true>>

“What was Maverock Academy like?” You’ve always been curious about life at other academies. Buchholz Academy had state-of-the-art facilities and renowned instructors, but the experience was tarnished by the snobby elites and cut-throat nature of the academy. You couldn’t help but wonder if the other academies in Strize were similar. “Small.” “Small?” You laugh, not expecting that to be his answer. Theo nods, “There were only three hundred students in the entire academy. My year had fifty students. The instructors did their best with the resources they had, but there was a clear disparity between our funding and the funding for the surrounding academies.” “Sounds like someone was mismanaging the academy’s funds,” You say with a wry smile. Theo shrugs, “They claim that the wall repairs had drained a lot of the budget and every academy in Matjo was feeling the effects.” Matjo was a small city two hundred kilometres away from Voxis, and they frequently suffered exillium sieges due to their city being built out in the open and below sea level. “It wasn’t all bad, though. There were hardly any military brats, and I got to speak to members of different communes and learn from them. There was also a lot less pressure on us, no one expects much from Maverock students.” [[Ask another question|Fire orp Ask Theo]] <<set $theomave to true>>

A yawn sneaks up on you and your eyes water as you try to stifle it. Blinking, you look around, only noticing now that most people have returned to their tents. The crackling fires and quiet chatter have been replaced by the soft footsteps of patrolling invigilators and the high-pitched chirps of nearby crickets. “We should turn in,” Theo yawns, wincing as he stands up. You nod, following him to his feet. Together, the two of you stamp out the fire and clean up. “I’m glad we got to meet, $name. I enjoyed chatting with you, I hope we can do it again after the soul trial,” Theo calls out as he walks to his tent. You wave goodbye and make the short journey to your tent. As you crawl into your sleeping bag, you think about all the new information you’ve learnt. Theo’s voice, the invigilators' soft murmurs and the chorus of crickets lull you to a dreamless sleep. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

Theo stares at you with an open expression, a small smile on his face. The fire’s embers reflecting in his eyes even as the fire you sit before burns low. He plays with the stick in his hand, the tip singed from coaxing the fire. The sound of crackling fire fills the air as a lull in the conversation forms as you ponder your next question. <fieldset>\ <<if $oyjaname is false>>[[• “Why do you call the mountains, Oyja’s Shield?”|orp ver 1]]<<elseif $oyjaname is true>>“Why do you call the mountains, Oyja’s Shield?”<</if>> <<if $theojso is false>>[[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|orp ver 2]]<<elseif $theojso is true>>“Do you want to join the soulforge order?”<</if>> <<if $theopst is false>>[[• “Did you prepare for the trial?”|orp ver 3]]<<elseif $theopst is true>>“Did you prepare for the trial?”<</if>> <<if $theomave is false>>[[• “What was Maverock Academy like?”|orp ver 4]]<<elseif $theomave is true>>“What was Maverock Academy like?”<</if>> [[• Head to bed|orp ver 5]] </fieldset>\

Their tents were textbook-perfect in setup. The stakes were hammered in until only the upper half was visible, and the ropes attached to them were taut. From a brief glance inside, you saw their sleeping bags rolled out and laid perfectly in the centre, and all their belongings were packed away. There was no clutter of any kind in sight, the only item seemingly out of place were their pulsefire batons, which were placed next to their sleeping bags. You assume the weapon was placed there as a safety measure. If there were a sudden attack, they would be able to defend themselves instantly. Astrid is the first to spot you. A small smile teases the corners of her lips as she watches you approach. Her tone is distant but friendly when she greets you from her position on the ground, sitting with her legs crossed and a black notebook in hand. Next to her stands Nico, having paused his workout, his body subconsciously shifting to the side to block your view of Astrid. “$surname, skulking around Block A are you?” Nico comments drily, crossing his arms over his chest. He shifts his weight onto his back leg, and Astrid comes into view once again, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he examines you. His hair is dark with sweat, and his hands are dirty from pressing into the ground during his push-ups. <fieldset>\ [[• “Just getting some fresh air” Remark awkwardly]] [[• “Just doing some sightseeing,” You say, winking at Nico]] [[• “Just doing some sightseeing,” You say, winking at Astrid]] [[• “I’m exploring the camp-site.” You reply calmly]] [[• “I plan on stealing your workout routine,” You answer in an equally dry tone]] </fieldset>\ <<set $twincampnice to true>>

Their tents were textbook-perfect in setup. The stakes were hammered in until only the upper half was visible, and the ropes attached to them were taut. From a brief glance inside, you saw their sleeping bags rolled out and laid perfectly in the centre, and all their belongings were packed away. There was no clutter of any kind in sight, the only item seemingly out of place were their pulsefire batons, which were placed next to their sleeping bags. You assume the weapon was placed there as a safety measure. If there were a sudden attack, they would be able to defend themselves instantly. Astrid is the first to spot you, and the corners of her mouth fall almost imperceptibly as she watches you approach. She greets you in a polite but detached manner from her position on the ground, sitting with her legs crossed and a black notebook in hand. Next to her stands Nico, having paused his workout to step between you and Astrid, blocking her from view. “Why are you here?” Nico asks warily, crossing his arms over his chest. He pulls his shoulders back, making himself taller, and stares at you with narrowed eyes. His hair is dark with sweat, and his hands are dirty from pressing into the ground during his push-ups. The fingers on his right hand tap against his bicep as he waits for your response. <fieldset>\ [[• “Just getting some fresh air” Remark awkwardly]] [[• “Just doing some sightseeing,” You say, winking at Nico]] [[• “Just doing some sightseeing,” You say, winking at Astrid]] [[• “I’m exploring the camp-site.” You reply calmly]] [[• “Picking flowers,” You answer drily.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $twincamptense to true>>

<<if $twincampnice is true>>His words catch you off-guard, and you give an awkward half-shrug, “Just getting some fresh air.” Nico stares at you, and you fidget under his gaze, your eyes darting towards Astrid, who is watching with an amused expression. Her lips are pulled into a full smile now, although she tries to hide it behind her notebook.<<elseif $twincamptense is true>>His words catch you off-guard, and you give an awkward half-shrug, “Just getting some fresh air.” Nico stares at you, and you fidget under his gaze, your eyes darting towards Astrid, who is watching with an indecipherable expression. Her notebook has been lowered and she studies you with cool eyes.<</if>> <<if $twincampnice is true>>“Getting some fresh air… by Block A?” He raises his left eyebrow. “Yes,” You say in mild confusion, looking around to make sure you are indeed in Block A. You miss how a variety of emotions cross Nico’s face before he settles on irritation. Meanwhile, Astrid’s face disappears behind her notebook, and imperceptibly, her shoulders shake.<<elseif $twincamptense is true>>“Getting some fresh air… by Block A?” He raises his left eyebrow. “Yes,” You say in mild confusion, looking around to make sure you are indeed in Block A. You miss how a variety of emotions cross Nico’s face before he settles on irritation. Meanwhile, a small smile flashes across Astrid’s face before it disappears behind her notebook.<</if>> “Why are you getting fresh air in Block A and not in Block C?” Nico demands to know, gesturing to the far side of the campsite where Block C would be located. “You want me to believe that you are just roaming around with no ulterior motive?” Disbelief is clear in his voice as he stares at you with narrowed eyes. “What ulterior motives could I have?” You question, befuddled by his words. “Plenty! You could -” “Nico.” Astrid interjects firmly, her smile gone. Nico whirls around, protests on the tip of his tongue. Astrid shakes her head and his jaw muscles twitch as he bites down on his words. Huffing, he turns and stalks off a few steps and drops onto the ground, his nose flaring as he begins his workout anew. [[“I’m sorry, it has been a stressful time.”]] <<set $astridrelationship +=3>>

“I’m taking in the sights,” You wink, running your eyes over Nico’s bare arms and toned shoulders. His pink lips twitch as they struggle to decide whether to rise or fall; ultimately they settle into a tight line. “Really?” Nico questions, the tips of his ears turning pink as he stares at you with a raised eyebrow. You nod gravely, making a point to look around, humming at the sights. “Lots to appreciate out here. The stars, the mountains,” A teasing smile comes across your face, “You.” The pink travels down his ears and stretches across his cheeks as he stares at you wide-eyed. “That-That’s inappropriate! This is neither the time nor place for such… words.” Astrid watches her brother with interested eyes over the top of her book. Her eyes darted between you and Nico throughout the exchange. She is a silent observer, her expression tactfully hidden behind her notebook. “Is that the only reason you wandered here?” Nico continues, cutting off any further teasing. “Did you purposefully seek us out?” His previous shyness disappeared and was replaced with suspicion. “Would it be wrong if I did?” You tilt your head in question, curiosity clear in your voice. “Yes. You could be with those -” “Nico.” Astrid interjects firmly. Nico whirls around, protests on the tip of his tongue. Astrid shakes her head and his jaw muscles twitch as he bites down on his words. Huffing, he turns and stalks off a few steps and drops onto the ground, his nose flaring as he begins his workout anew. [[“I’m sorry, it has been a stressful time.”]] <<set $nicorelationship +=3>>

<<if $twincampnice is true>>“I’m taking in the sights,” You wink, smiling at Astrid. Her hair is loose, falling over her shoulders in soft waves, her bangs slightly mussed. The gentle blue light of her drone washes over her soft and delicate features. Astrid shifts uncomfortably under the weight of your stare, disappearing behind her notebook.<<elseif $twincamptense is true>>“I’m taking in the sights,” You wink, smiling at Astrid. Her hair is loose, falling over her shoulders in soft waves, her bangs slightly mussed. The gentle blue light of her drone washes over her soft and delicate features. Astrid balks at your attention, her face twisting into a grimace before disappearing behind her notebook.<</if>> Your smile falters as Nico moves to block Astrid from your view, his lips tightly pursed together and his eyes cold. “Is that the only reason you wandered here?” His voice is sharp and the line of muscle across his arms and shoulders are tense. Astrid carefully watches your interaction over the top of her notebook. “Or did you seek us out for another reason?” “Another reason?” You question, befuddled by his words. “Don’t play dumb! You and those -” “Nico.” Astrid interjects firmly. Nico whirls around, protests on the tip of his tongue. Astrid shakes her head and his jaw muscles twitch as he bites down on his words. Huffing, he turns and stalks off a few steps and drops onto the ground, his nose flaring as he begins his workout anew. [[“I’m sorry, it has been a stressful time.”]]

“I’m exploring the camp-site.” You offer the information with a nonchalant wave towards the surrounding tents and area. You stand in front of the twins with your arms loosely crossed and leaning onto your back foot. Nico studies you with furrowed eyebrows, his hand running through his sweaty locks. “That’s all?” He questions, apprehension clear in his voice. Astrid carefully watches your interaction over the top of her notebook. A silent observer. You raise a single eyebrow and reply, “Yes,” Caught off guard by his suspicious tone. “Is there a problem with me exploring?” You question. You see the muscles around his jaw jump as he grinds his teeth, chewing on his words. “If what you say is true then no. But how can I be sure that you’re telling the truth?” He smiles sardonically. Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, confusion clear on your face. “Why would I lie?” “If you’re involved -” “Nico.” Astrid interjects firmly. Nico whirls around, protests on the tip of his tongue. Astrid shakes her head and his jaw muscles twitch as he bites down on his words. Huffing, he turns and stalks off a few steps and drops onto the ground, his nose flaring as he begins his workout anew. [[“I’m sorry, it has been a stressful time.”]] <<set $nicorelationship +=3>> <<set $astridrelationship +=3>>

“I plan on stealing your workout routine,” You answer in an equally dry tone, your arms crossed over your chest, mirroring his body language. Nico's face twists, caught between annoyance and embarrassment. Astrid watches the interaction with a small smile. Ducking her face behind her notebook when Nico turns to her, looking for support. He gestures wildly in your direction, his voice filled with disbelief as he splutters, “Astrid! Did you hear what ?he said?” Astrid slowly lowers her notebook, her smile wiped away and replaced with a nonchalant expression. Nico stares expectantly at her with his hands on his hips. In a placating tone she replies, “I did.” The twins stare at one another, silently communicating. Realising that she was not going to add anything else, he spun back to you, a scowl on his face. “I’m unsure of your true intentions but just know your presence is unwanted. We've dealt with enough this evening.” “Dealt with enough?” You parrot, trying to glean what Nico meant. //Did something happen to them?// You wonder, studying the defensive stance of Nico and the displeased slant of Astrid's lips. “I'm sure you've never had to -” “Nico.” Astrid interjects firmly. Nico whirls around, protests on the tip of his tongue. Astrid shakes her head and his jaw muscles twitch as he bites down on his words. Huffing, he turns and stalks off a few steps and drops onto the ground, his nose flaring as he begins his workout anew. [[“I’m sorry, it has been a stressful time.”]] <<set $nicorelationship +=2>> <<set $astridrelationship +=2>>

“Picking flowers,” You answer drily. Nico makes a show of looking at the surrounding area, a sardonic smile on his face as he replies, “A fine selection to pick from out here.” Nodding gravely, you play along, “I was going to give you and your sister the finest of the bunch but as you can see, you caught me empty-handed.” A faint smile touches Astrid's lips before she looks away, turning her attention back to her notebook. Nico sighs, running his hand through his sweaty locks, eyeing you warily. “I'll be frank, do you have ulterior motives for seeking us out?” You are caught off-guard by his question and defensive posturing. You shoot him a confused look, “Ulterior motive?” “Don't pretend you don't know -” “Nico.” Astrid interjects firmly. Nico whirls around, protests on the tip of his tongue. Astrid shakes her head and his jaw muscles twitch as he bites down on his words. Huffing, he turns and stalks off a few steps and drops onto the ground, his nose flaring as he begins his workout anew. [[“I’m sorry, it has been a stressful time.”]] <<set $nicorelationship +=2>> <<set $astridrelationship +=2>>

“I’m sorry for Nico's… brisk tone. It has been a stressful time.” Astrid apologises, closing her notebook and resting it in her lap. Nico snorts, his back to you and Astrid as he shadow boxes, but Astrid tactfully ignores him. “The soul trial is very important to us. Please forgive us if we are a bit tense.” Astrid gives you a practiced smile, her hands elegantly folded over one another on top of her notebook and her spine straight. The picture of a perfect lady. There is an air of quiet contemplation as the two of you stare at one another. Glancing back, you see Nico practicing his kicks. He pivots off his left foot, carefully balanced on the ball of his foot, and lashes out with his right leg. He smoothly transitions between low and high kicks. A look of concentration is drawn across his face, releasing sharp exhales each time he strikes. Meanwhile, Astrid has returned to her notebook, her pen smoothly moving across the page. The gentle scratching of her pen intermingling with Nico's occasional grunts. Her posture remains perfect even as she writes, her shoulders never hunching forward. When lost in thought, she absent-mindedly spun her pen, her facial expression never changing. The twins glance at you between their activities. As if to question why you’re still here. However, they never directly send you away. <fieldset>\ [[• Talk to Astrid]] [[• Talk to Nico]] [[• Return to your tent]] </fieldset>\

You slowly lower yourself to the floor, sitting opposite to Astrid, your boots scraping against the red earth as you cross your legs. She looks up from her notebook, her eyebrows shooting up imperceptibly. The pen in her hand comes to a standstill. Her eyes silently study you. There is a pregnant pause as you study each other. Her drone’s blue light casts a faint halo behind her. The gentle slope of her nose half-bathed in shadow and her brown eyes appear almost black. Her pink lips purse for a moment and her eyes dart to the side, where Nico stands. He moves forward, hands clenched at his sides, but Astrid shakes her head forcing him to stop mid-stride. A heavy frown makes its way to his face. However, he retreats, resuming his workout. Astrid returns her attention to you, a polite smile now on her face, closing her notebook and sliding it behind her back. “$name, is there something you require?” She asks in a courteous manner, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I wanted to talk,” You reply. Astrid considers your words, her head tilting ever so slightly to the left. Her bangs fall over her eyes and you note the ink on the side of her index finger as she brings her hand up to tuck the hair behind her ear. “What would you like to talk about?” <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Astrid jso]] [[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Astrid wtsti]] <<if $twintransfer is false>>[[• “How are your preparations for the soul trial going?”|Astrid pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “How are your preparations for the soul trial going?”|Astrid pst]]<</if>> [[• “What was Nico going to say to me?”]] [[• The conversation has drawn to a close|Astrid finish convo]] </fieldset>\ <<set $speakastrid to true>>

Nico glances at you from the corner of his eye. A deep scowl on his face as you approach him. His once slicked back dark hair falls forward, over his eyes, as he stops his practice to dip down and fetch his sweat towel and water pouch. He pats his face dry and then rests the sweat towel around his neck. His tousled bangs have a more pronounced curl after his workout - sitting higher on his forehead as he stares at you with an annoyed expression. He takes small sips from his water pouch, his eyes never leaving you as you approach. Once closer, you note that his knuckles are white around the water pouch. “Here to disturb me?” He asks drily, raising a single eyebrow. <fieldset>\ [[• Grin cheekily, “Yes”]] [[• “I just want to chat,” Answer sincerely]] [[• “I wanted to ask you a few question,” Say politely]] [[• “Maybe,” You reply in a deadpan tone]] [[• “Not like I am interrupting anything of note,” Say with an arrogant tone]] </fieldset>\ <<set $speaknico to true>>

With a final glance at the twin’s tents, you slowly make your way back to Block C. Picking your way through Block A, you are surprised to see students awake and training. While you stifle a yawn, there are a group of students sparring, their sharp exclamations ringing in the air as you walk past. A myriad of tents act as a lantern with the muted blue glow of their drones, making your journey back to your tent easier. It is not long before you are back in Block C. The camp area is noticeably quiet in comparison to Block A. All the fires have been stamped out and only the invigilators roam the block. Ducking into your tent, you quickly settle into your bedroll and prepare yourself for sleep. Your eyes droop as the day’s travel and activity hits you all at once. It is not long before you fall asleep, the soft shuffling of the invigilators’ boots and rustling of tents lulling you to sleep. <<if $secondcampday is true>>[[You are woken up early and thrust back onto the road]]<<elseif $firstcampday is true>>[[The second day of travel]]<</if>>

You look around - noting the perfectly set up tents, Nico training nearby and the dry ink on Astrid’s finger. “Do you want to join the Soulforge Order?” You ask, your elbows resting on your knees as you lean forward. Astrid appears perfectly composed and relaxed, her polite smile not slipping as she answers. “It would be a great honour to join the Soulforge Order. The work they do is essential in keeping the exillium threat at bay and without them, Azish would be a far more dangerous place. Anyone would be a fool to turn down the opportunity to work for such a prestigious organisation. It is a chance to bring about real change.” Her reply is instant, the words leaving her mouth like a well rehearsed speech. The inflection and smile is perfect yet… something feels off. You narrow your eyes, trying to see past her gentle upturned lips and relaxed shoulders. “How do you feel, $name? Would you like to join the Soulforge Order?” Astrid asks, her voice light as she turns the question back to you. Swiftly changing the conversation’s focus. <fieldset>\ [[• “I would love to,” You want to help people.]] [[• “I would love to,” You want the position.]] <<if $militarybackground is true>>[[• “I would love to,” You want to make your father proud]]<</if>> [[• “I would love to,” Lie]] [[• “I’m not sure.”]] [[• “No.”]] </fieldset>\ <<set $astridjso to true>>

“What do you think the soul trial is?” You ask, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity in your voice. “The rumours have painted the trial as everything from a survival challenge to a fight.” Astrid hums to show she is listening, even as her eyes look past your head, tracking the movements of a group of students behind you. “Considering our location, the likelihood of it being a survival challenge is quite high. However, that would be far too simple. I expect an additional twist to be added to the challenge.” “An additional twist…” You mumble, considering the implication. Astrid nods, returning her attention back to you, her eyes no longer wandering. “The number of graduates who pass each year is staggeringly low. For the success rate to be so low there can only be two reasons.” Astrid holds up a single finger, “Reason one, the soul trial is extremely difficult. A conclusion most people would form. The secretive nature of the trial adds to this mindset.” She raises a second finger, “Reason two, the Soulforge Order are looking for very specific traits or attributes in their recruits. Even if you are to succeed at whatever challenge they throw at you, if you do not match their prerequisites, you fail.” “You think they’re using the soul trial as a way to test for these traits or attributes?” You reply, narrowing your eyes in thought. “It’s simply a hypothesis. I suppose we will find out which one it is soon enough.” “I suppose so.” [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridwtsti to true>>

“How are your preparations for the soul trial going?” Although Astrid and Nico are students at Buchholz Academy alongside you, there was never an opportunity to learn more about them. It was rare for classes to interact with one another; the brutal schedule made it difficult to do anything other than study or train. “The instructors at Buchholz have been great, they’ve been really accommodating for my brother and I in the wake of our circumstances. I believe we are as prepared as we can be for the challenges ahead.” “I’ve heard the evening classes are quite brutal. The instructors really pushed the students that attended.” For students who transferred in late or fell behind in their studies and training, they were required to attend special evening classes. The classes would cover everything they’ve missed and get them caught up in the fastest time frame possible. Astrid stills, her spine straightening imperceptibly, “Nothing that I couldn’t handle. They were doing their best within the time frame given. Ensuring that I was ready for the soul trial was a great undertaking. I’m lucky they managed to fit me in.” Her words are spoken with little emotion. There is a pregnant pause, a charged look shared between you and Astrid. You thought better of questioning her further on the matter - something about her eyes warning you off. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridpst to true>>

“How are your preparations for the soul trial going?” Although Astrid and Nico are students at Buchholz Academy alongside you, there was never an opportunity to learn more about them. It was rare for classes to interact with one another; the brutal schedule made it difficult to do anything other than study or train. “The instructors at Buchholz have been great, they’ve been really accommodating for my brother and I in the wake of our circumstances. I believe we are as prepared as we can be for the challenges ahead.” “Circumstances?” You question, your eyebrows furrowing at her words. A look of surprise crosses Astrid’s face before it is replaced by a sceptical eyebrow raise. “Are you unaware that Nico and I only transferred to Buchholz this year?” Your mouth falls open, “You transferred to Buchholz in your fourth year?” You exclaim, disbelief clear in your voice. “Yes,” She answers with a light laugh, the tension melting away from her face, “My father was transferred to Voxis for work. We were enrolled at the start of the year and with help from the academy and instructors, we were able to integrate fairly well.” Astrid tilts her head, “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about us. Word travels fast in Buchholz.” She drily remarks. <fieldset>\ [[• “I tend to ignore gossip I can’t verify for myself”]] [[• “I study and train, I have little time for anything else.”]] [[• You’re surprised as well, normally you know everything happening in the academy.]] [[• You’re not surprised, you keep to yourself at the academy.]] [[• “Guess you’re not as interesting of a topic as you thought.”]] </fieldset>\ <<set $astridpst to true>> <<set $twintransfer to true>>\

Astrid notices your movements to stand and swiftly follows, rising to her feet in a single, fluid motion. A layer of ash grey dust clings to your pants as you stand and your hips and knees protest the time spent on the uneven ground. You shake your legs out, trying to regain feeling in your numb limbs. <<if $astridrelationship >=10>>Meanwhile, Astrid gathers her pen and notebook from the ground, carefully dusting the leather cover. “Thank you for the conversation, $name. I really enjoyed speaking with you.” Astrid smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I hope we can chat more in the future.” She waves goodbye and enters her tent, disappearing behind the flap.<<elseif $astridrelationship >=5>>Meanwhile, Astrid gathers her pen and notebook from the ground, carefully dusting the leather cover. “Thank you for the conversation, $name.” A small but genuine smile spreads across Astrid’s face, “Take care of yourself.” She waves goodbye and enters her tent, disappearing behind the flap.<<elseif $astridrelationship <=5>>Meanwhile, Astrid gathers her pen and notebook from the ground, carefully dusting the leather cover. “Take care,” Astrid smiles politely, holding her notebook to her chest, “Mind your step when you return to your tent.” She waves goodbye and enters her tent, disappearing behind the flap.<</if>> There is a soft hiss as she zips her tent shut, her shadow dancing across her tent's walls. Nico calls out to his sister, wishing her goodnight, a rare soft expression on his face. He moves to stand an arm’s length away from Astrid’s tent, water pouch in hand and sweat towel around his neck. <fieldset>\ <<if $speaknico is false>>[[• Talk to Nico|Astrid to Nico Chat]]<<elseif $speaknico is true>>Speak to Nico<</if>> [[• Return to your tent]] </fieldset>\

You glance over to Nico, his dark brown hair falling over his eyes as he furiously bobs and weaves around an imaginary foe. “Earlier,” You begin, “Nico wanted to say something to me.” You turn back to Astrid, her dark brown hair beautifully framing her face, “What was he going to say?” Astrid looks away, her body tensing at your words. “Why did you stop him?” You press on, driven by curiosity. Her hands finally drift away from her lap, subconsciously reaching out for the notebook behind her. She clutches it like a lifeline, her knuckles turning white around the black book. <<if $astridrelationship >=10>>[[She looks up, a grim expression on her face.]]<<elseif $astridrelationship <=10>>[[“I’m tired, I think we should end our conversation here.”]]<</if>> <<set $nicocampcomment to true>>

Sincerity fills your voice as you reply, “I would love to,” Your head turning to look over the campsite. The shadowed form of students in their tents and the crackling fires dotting the landscape. A vibrant splash of life in an otherwise desolate land. Past the campsite no other sounds of life or light can be seen, just a stretch of darkness. “The soulforge warriors help people. They give us hope. I would like to be a part of that.” You murmur, your eyes peering out into the darkness. Astrid’s face softens, her smile losing its rigid edges as it finally reaches her eyes. “I think they would be lucky to have you.” You are surprised by the sudden warmth in her voice, the courteous tone replaced by a friendlier cadence. You smile at Astrid, gratitude in your eyes, and she shies away from your smile. Staring down at her hands, her once perfect posture broken as she hunches slightly forward. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship +=2>>

Subconsciously you draw your shoulders back, mirroring Astrid’s posture. “I would love to join the Soulforge Order.” You answer, staring into Astrid’s eyes with a determined expression. “As you said, it’s a prestigious organisation, joining the order can open a lot of doors for a person.” Astrid hums in agreement, eerily still as she watches you speak. “With soulforge warriors being the only people who can truly rid Azish of exilliums, they’re irreplaceable. It’s a great position to be in.” You shoot Astrid a wry smile, “No other branch in the military can offer job security like that.” “Very few people would shy away from the opportunity,” She acknowledges, returning your smile, albeit more subdued. [[You ask Astrid another question]]

Nico’s soft grunts fill the air as he pivots, his boots sliding across the ground, a plume of red dust kicked up. He bobs and weaves around an imaginary enemy. You watch his smooth movements, your fingers tapping against your knee. Memories of your father dancing around you with boxing gloves flood your mind - a huge grin on his face. He was always at his happiest when he was training you. “I would love to join the Soulforge Order.” You answer, looking away from Nico to focus on Astrid. “It would make the tireless days and nights at the academy all worth it. I would be able to show my father how far I've come, make him proud.” You miss the flicker of emotion passing through Astrid’s face, the corners of her mouth tightening. “It will be a great way to gain important experience as well, it can help me become a better admiral.” Astrid's lips part, as if wanting to reply to your words, her eyes darting to Nico. You glance back in confusion, checking on her brother, but Nico has not strayed from his workout or position. You return your attention to Astrid, wanting to question her stare, but she purses her lips and cuts you off. “I'm sure your father is already proud of you, $name. Becoming a soulforge warrior would just be an added bonus.” She says, lowering her head, her face hidden from you. [[You ask Astrid another question]]

“I would love to join the Soulforge Order,” You lie with a smile. “Only a fool would pass up the opportunity to join such a prestigious organisation,” You sigh as you shake your head. Astrid tilts her head almost imperceptibly, her dark eyes scanning your face and body carefully. “Only a fool,” She murmurs back, her lips twitching ever so slightly upwards. There is intent in her stare, her eyes trying to peel back your lie, but you remain steadfast. Your face is fixed in a relaxed and inviting smile. “Well, they do offer far more benefits than any other branch in the military,” Astrid says with a light laugh, her eyes studying your reaction. You play along, “Highest entry salary as well based on the rumours I've heard.” Astrid’s face softens, her smile losing its rigid edges as it finally reaches her eyes. She shifts, allowing herself to sit more comfortably, her folded hands moving into a more natural position in her lap. Her spine is still ramrod straight and her shoulders remain drawn back, but there is an air of approachability around Astrid that was not there before. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship +=2>>

“No,” You swiftly answer. Astrid appears startled at your quick response, her eyebrows rising before she can stop herself. “No? You really have no thoughts of joining them?” She asks again, doubt in her voice. You shrug, leaning back, your hands resting on the ashy grey ground. Your movements unsettling the dirt and revealing red earth beneath. “I don’t want to join them.” You confirm, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as Astrid narrows her eyes, subconsciously leaning forward. “Is it so hard to believe that I would have no interest in joining them?” You question with a small laugh, cocking your eyebrow. Astrid hesitates, her once eerie stillness broken as she shifts, her hands running across her pants, flattening the wrinkles. “I’m sure there are others who feel that way here, it’s just my first time hearing someone be so blatant about it.” She chuckles, her face softening as she lets the chuckle escape her lips. “I’m full of surprises.” “So I’m coming to learn.” [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship +=2>>

Block A's students grow quieter as the evening stretches on. Fires are stamped out and the lively chatter shifts to low murmurs. Astrid looks content amidst the lull, her rigid posture softening at the edges. However, there is a sharpness to her gaze that remains even as the tension drains from her body. She constantly surveys the area, noting the smallest movements, her focus never staying on you. “Do you have any other questions?” <fieldset>\ <<if $astridjso is false>>[[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Astrid jso]]<<elseif $astridjso is true>>“Do you want to join the soulforge order?”<</if>> <<if $astridwtsti is false>>[[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Astrid wtsti]]<<elseif $astridwtsti is true>>“What do you think the soul trial is?”<</if>> <<if $astridpst is true>>“How are you preparations for the soul trial going?”<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “How are you preparations for the soul trial going?”|Astrid pst]]<<elseif $twintransfer is false>>[[• “How are your preparations for the soul trial going?”|Astrid pst False Twin Transfer]]<</if>> <<if $nicows is false>>[[• “What was Nico going to say to me?”]]<<elseif $nicows is true>>“What was Nico going to say to me?”<</if>> [[• The conversation has drawn to a close|Astrid finish convo]] </fieldset>\

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you lean back, your hands digging into the ashy grey dirt, revealing the red earth beneath. “I’m not sure,” Your words are directed towards the night sky, your eyes locked on the pinpricks of light dotting the dark expanse. Your fingernails grow dirty as you scratch at the dirt absent-mindedly. “It’s like you said, the Soulforge Order is a prestigious organisation that does a lot of good. But…” You purse your lips, ignorant of Astrid’s small movements, her body subtly leaning forward. “I think people often forget the weight of the mantle you’re taking on.” You finish, shaking your head before looking towards Astrid. Astrid’s face softens, her smile losing its rigid edges as it finally reaches her eyes. She shifts, allowing herself to sit more comfortably, her folded hands moving into a more natural position in her lap. “People are often too enamored to see past the surface,” Astrid whispers, lowering her head to look at her hands. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship +=1>>

You shrug, “I focus on my studies and training. I have little time for anything else, let alone the latest news amongst students.” Astrid’s scepticism is replaced with an expression of bemusement, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Unfortunately not everyone is as dedicated as you. They carve out the time to talk,” She comments with pursed lips, her eyes looking past you. Turning your head, you watch as a group of students chat and gesture wildly, dressed in their training fatigues. A group training session appeared to be happening. Watching them train, you recall your own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem coming to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[You ask Astrid another question]]

“Word does travel exceedingly fast at Buccholz,” You agree with a knowing nod, all too familiar with the students of Buccholz. “However, I tend to ignore gossip I can’t verify for myself,” You explain. “That’s how misunderstandings happen after all.” A rare full smile graces Astrid’s face at your words. “Unfortunately not everyone has the same mindset as you,” Astrid sighs, her eyes looking past you. Turning your head, you watch as a group of students chat and gesture wildly, dressed in their training fatigues. A group training session appeared to be happening. Watching them train, you recall your own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem coming to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship +=1>>

Your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, your hand absentmindedly coming to your chin. Cradling your chin, you lean forward in thought, //Did I really not hear anything about Astrid or Nico during the year?// It was hard to believe, you actively made an effort to always be aware of the happenings around the academy. Whether it was wild speculations or rumours, you had your finger on the pulse of Buchholz. “I’m surprised as well,” You admit with a rueful smile. “You’ll have to improve your network for next time,” Astrid replies with a tight smile, her eyes looking past you. Turning your head, you watch as a group of students chat and gesture wildly, dressed in their training fatigues. A group training session appeared to be happening. Watching them train, you recall your own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem coming to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[You ask Astrid another question]]

You shrug and avoid Astrid’s eyes as you admit, “I’ve always kept to myself at the academy.” You could feel Astrid studying you, staring with unclear intent. There is a pregnant pause before she speaks, “Well, you aren’t missing out on much.” Her words are spoken softly yet the bitter undercurrent is all too loud. A comfortable silence settles between you and you soon find yourself joining Astrid in staring at the group of students who chat and gesture wildly behind you. They’re dressed in their training fatigues and seem to be preparing to hold a group training session. Watching them train, you recall your own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem coming to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship +=1>>

“Guess you’re not as interesting of a topic as you thought,” You drawl, a smirk tugging at your lips. Astrid returns your smirk with her own tight smile, her shoulders drawing back and her spine imperceptibly straightening. “It would appear so.” She responds in a clipped tone, her face blank. She avoids your eyes after that, focusing on a group of students behind you. Turning your head, you watch as a group of students chat and gesture wildly, dressed in their training fatigues. A group training session appeared to be happening. Watching them train, you recall your own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem coming to the forefront of your mind. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[You ask Astrid another question]] <<set $astridrelationship -=1>>

The scraping of Nico’s boots and the quiet chatter of students fill the air as an uncomfortable silence settles between you and Astrid. She hugs her black notebook tightly to her chest, her thumb running over the spine. Finally, she looks up, a grim expression on her face. “We’re private people by nature,” Astrid starts, all emotion removed from her voice, “So we find it difficult to open up to others.” A bitter smile crosses her face, “Which has been exacerbated of late by a situation that I am not yet comfortable with sharing.” She slowly lowers her notebook, resting it in her lap. The tender manner in which she caresses her notebook is a sharp contrast to the steel in her voice. “I’m not even sure why I am telling you this much,” She laughs, the sound brittle. “But I hope you can leave the matter alone.” She peers at you from beneath her bangs, “Please.” <fieldset>\ [[• Push for an answer|“I’m tired, I think we should end our conversation here.”]] [[• Nod and ask another question|You ask Astrid another question]] </fieldset>\ <<set $twinproblem1 to true>> <<set $nicows to true>>

Astrid suddenly stands, clutching her notebook to her chest. “I’m tired. I think we should end our conversation here,” She states, her tone leaving no room for argument. She swiftly turns on her heel, marching to her tent. Her back is the last thing you see before she disappears behind her tent flap, the zip’s hissing sound ringing in your ears. //I won’t be getting any answers from her.// Slowly you stand up, dusting off the ash grey sand clinging to your pants. Your legs tingle from sitting on the uneven ground and you find yourself shaking them to return circulation. Nico pointedly moves closer to Astrid’s tent, water pouch in hand and sweat towel around his neck. He watches you closely, a guarded expression on his face. Behind him, Astrid’s shadow moves, dipping in and out of view. <fieldset>\ <<if $speaknico is false>>[[• Talk to Nico]]<<elseif $speaknico is true>>Talk to Nico<</if>> [[• Return to your tent]] </fieldset>\ <<set $astridleftconvo to true>>

Taking a break from his workout, Nico pats his face dry with his sweat towel and sips from his water pouch. His eyes focused on you as you approached. His body has subconsciously angled itself towards Astrid’s tent. An expression of wariness on his face. His once slicked back dark hair has fallen forward. His tousled bangs have a more pronounced curl after his workout - sitting higher on his forehead as he stares at you with an annoyed expression. Once closer, you note that his knuckles are white around the water pouch. “Here to disturb me?” He asks drily, raising a single eyebrow. <fieldset>\ [[• Grin cheekily, “Yes”]] [[• “I just want to chat,” Answer sincerely]] [[• “I wanted to ask you a few question,” Say politely]] [[• “Maybe,” You reply in a deadpan tone]] [[• “Not like I am interrupting anything of note,” Say with an arrogant tone]] </fieldset>\ <<set $speaknico to true>>

You answer Nico with a cheeky grin, “Yes,” Enjoying the way his eye twitches as soon as the singular word leaves your mouth. “Must you be obnoxious here? Do you have no one else to bother?” He asks through gritted teeth, his water pouch contorting under the sudden force of his grip. “There is no one else I would rather bother than you,” You reply with a bright smile. A series of splutters and aborted sentences leave Nico’s mouth, his face steadily growing bright red. You tilt your head in consideration, unsure whether it was anger or a lack of oxygen making him turn that particular shade of red. “Enough, I’m extremely busy and I have no time for your- your shenanigans!” To prove his point, he throws his sweat towel and water pouch into his tent, starting up his exercise once again. He quickly falls into a horse stance, pointedly looking away from you, and punches the air in front of him. His form is perfect as he throws punch after punch, his stance never faltering. Undeterred, you continue the conversation. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Nico jso]] [[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Nico wtsti]] <<if $twintransfer is false>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst]]<</if>> [[• “What did you want to say to me earlier?”]] [[• The conversation has drawn to a close]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nicorelationship +=1>>

You shake your head, “I just want to chat,” You answer in a sincere and earnest tone. Nico appears caught off guard by your tone, befuddlement on his face as clear as day. “You want to… chat?” He asks, skepticism dripping off his words. You nod, smiling at the confused man. He turns away, bringing his sweat towel to his face. He aggressively wipes his face, further tousling his bangs, before turning back to you. “I find it hard to believe that you wandered over here wanting to chat.” The tip of his nose is red from rubbing against the towel. “Why?” You furrow your eyebrows, tilting your head in question. He groans, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You can see his mouth moving, mumbling to himself before he speaks up. “Look, I don’t have time to chat. I need to finish my workout. I’ll answer a few questions and that’s it, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, he throws his sweat towel and water pouch into his tent, starting up his exercise once again. He quickly falls into a horse stance, and punches the air in front of him. His form is perfect as he throws punch after punch, his stance never faltering. He nods at you, signaling he is ready. You ask Nico: <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Nico jso]] [[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Nico wtsti]] <<if $twintransfer is false>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst]]<</if>> [[• “What did you want to say to me earlier?”]] [[• The conversation has drawn to a close]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nicorelationship +=2>>

“I wanted to ask you a few questions,” You reply. Your tone is polite and your hands are clasped behind your back, the picture of geniality. Nico remains vigilant, his body still tense, but you note that his hand loosens its grip around the water pouch. “What do you want to ask me?” There is a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in his voice. He raises one eyebrow as he stares at you, and you watch as it partially disappears beneath his bangs. “I wanted to hear your thoughts about the soul trial and the soulforge order.” He purses his lips, hesitation clear on his face, but eventually he nods. “I need to finish my workout. But I’ll answer a few questions and that’s it, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, he throws his sweat towel and water pouch into his tent, starting up his exercise once again. He quickly falls into a horse stance, and punches the air in front of him. His form is perfect as he throws punch after punch, his stance never faltering. He nods at you, signaling he is ready. You ask Nico: <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Nico jso]] [[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Nico wtsti]] <<if $twintransfer is false>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst]]<</if>> [[• “What did you want to say to me earlier?”]] [[• The conversation has drawn to a close]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nicorelationship +=2>>

“Maybe.” Nico tilts his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes and you can see his lips just barely moving below his hand. However, before you could attempt to read his lips, he turns to face you once again. An exasperated expression on his face. “I'm not interested in playing whatever little game you are trying to lure me into. As you can see,” He gestures to his sweat soaked shirt, “I'm busy.” To prove his point, he throws his sweat towel and water pouch into his tent, starting up his exercise once again. “What if I just want to ask you a few questions?” Nico, who has fallen into a horse stance, pointedly ignores you. Punching the air in front of him, sharply exhaling after each crisp jab. His form is perfect as he throws punch after punch, his stance never faltering. Undeterred, you continue the conversation. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Nico jso]] [[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Nico wtsti]] <<if $twintransfer is false>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst]]<</if>> [[• “What did you want to say to me earlier?”]] [[• The conversation has drawn to a close]] </fieldset>\

“Not like I am interrupting anything of note,” You remark with a smirk, crossing your arms over your chest and resting your body weight on your backfoot. The veins in Nico’s neck jump as he grits his teeth, the water pouch warping under his grip. “What did you say?” He snarls, his eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. You shrug, “I think it would be more beneficial to chat to me than continue with your…” You half-heartedly gesture towards him, “Workout.” Nico’s jaw drops, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “Are you being serious?” “Yes.” He shakes his head in disbelief and pointedly turns away, throwing his sweat towel and water pouch into his tent, before starting up his exercise once again. He quickly falls into a horse stance, and punches the air in front of him. His form is perfect as he throws punch after punch, his stance never faltering. Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge your existence. Undeterred, you continue the conversation. <fieldset>\ [[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Nico jso]] [[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Nico wtsti]] <<if $twintransfer is false>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst]]<</if>> [[• “What did you want to say to me earlier?”]] [[• The conversation has drawn to a close]] </fieldset>\

Your question is met with silence. At first, you assume Nico is ignoring you, but his stance falters. He startles, almost rising from his deep squat, but he stops himself before he fully breaks the stance. He shoots you an annoyed look, “What kind of question is that? Of course I want to join them!” His punches become faster, as if venting his frustration. “You would have to be crazy to give up the opportunity to join them. Every recruit should strive to be part of their ranks. Do you know what the chances are to be a soulforge warrior?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, “It’s a 2% chance.” He punctuates his words with sharp jabs that cut through the air. “If you are in that 2% the world is your oyster. You will reach heights most people can only dream of. Your name will be written in history books, your family’s legacy secured.” There is a fire in his eyes as he says the last line. “You would be a fool to not work towards it.” [[Ask Nico another question]] <<set $nicojso to true>>

“It doesn’t matter what the soul trial is,” Nico grunts out, “I’ll be ready.” You wait to see if he will continue but he remains silent, intently focusing on his movements. They are executed with care and pinpoint precision. It is like watching a dancer, Nico’s control over his body is nothing short of astounding. There is fluidity and grace in each movement. He is not a large man, he falls on the smaller side of the scale, but you can see the line of muscle in his arms and legs. It is easy to see the years of hard work he has put into honing his body. [[Ask Nico another question]] <<set $nicowtsti to true>>

“Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?” You ask, watching Nico transition from stance to stance, a light sheen of sweat on his body. Although you both attend Buchholz Academy, your paths never crossed. It was rare for classes to interact with one another unless you shared a training block. Digging through your academy memories, strangely enough you can’t recall ever sharing a training block with Nico or Astrid. Nico snorts, “Of course. I couldn’t let myself fall behind just because of the move. I can’t afford to waste this opportunity.” You tilt your head in confusion, “Move?” Nico stops. “You don’t know about our transfer?” He asks, a strange calmness to his voice. His eyes are sharp now, trying to pick at your words. “No,” You reply, shaking your head. “My sister and I only transferred to Buchholz earlier this year.” “You transferred in during your final year?” You gasp, unable to hide your surprise, your mouth hanging open. Nico’s eyebrows rise at your response, a bemused expression on his face. “Were you truly unaware?” You nod, still caught off guard by the information. “My father brought us to Voxis to ensure we were afforded the best opportunities.” Nico puffs out his chest, pride clear in his voice. “While it is risky to enroll into a new academy during your final year, he knew Astrid and I would rise to the challenge. It helps that Buchholz and the instructors have more than earned their reputation.” “I’m shocked that you never heard about it. We made quite the splash on our arrival. We quickly rose up in the class ranks and people were none too happy,” He smirks. <fieldset>\ [[• You’re shocked as well, normally you are aware of everything happening in the academy]] [[• “I only focused on training and my studies.”]] [[• “I don’t pay attention to what others say.”]] [[• You’re not surprised. You kept a low profile at the academy.]] [[• “Guess you didn’t make as much of a splash as you thought.]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nicopst to true>> <<set $twintransfer to true>>\

The evening air takes on a chill as the wind picks up, the whistling winds chasing a few students back to their tents. Nico seems unaffected by the change in temperature, his body never faltering in their movements and the intense look of concentration on his face never wavering. “Earlier, when I first arrived…” You watch Nico’s face closely as you strike up the conversation. “What did you want to say to me? Before Astrid cut you off?” Nico freezes mid step, his leg hovering in the air. A wave of emotions crash across his face, a whirlpool surging out of control. However, he quickly suppresses the storm. Slowly, he turns to face you, his mouth pinched in a tight line and his eyes guarded. Nico regards you with cold eyes, his hands curled into tight fists at his side. “I misspoke.” He says in a cool tone. <<if $nicorelationship >=10>>[[Nico seems to regret his tone.]]<<elseif $nicorelationship <=10>>[[“We’re done talking.”]]<</if>> <<set $nicocampcomment to true>>

With Nico’s rigorous workout coming to an end, you know your window for asking questions is closing as well. You draw your arms above your head, leaning back gently and sighing when your back clicks. The exhaustion of travelling finally hits and you find yourself biting back a yawn. Blinking back your tears, you are able to make out Nico rummaging in his tent. He pops back out with his toiletries, clothes and towel. “I’m heading to the showers. Unless you intend on following me into my stall, we can say our goodbyes here.” He remarks in a dry tone. <<if $nicorelationship >=10>>His words get a chuckle from you and he seems pleased, although he tries to hide it. “Goodnight, Nico.” You call out, watching him walk away. “Goodnight, $name. It was not entirely unpleasant to talk to you,” He calls back, never turning around. You shake your head, rolling your eyes even as an amused expression finds its way to your face.<<elseif $nicorelationship >=5>>“Goodnight, Nico.” You call out as your reply. “Goodnight, $name. Don’t get lost on your way back.” He calls back, never turning around. You shake your head, watching his retreat with watering eyes as you fight back another yawn.<<elseif $nicorelationship <=5>>“Goodnight, Nico” You call out as your reply. “Goodnight, $name. Let’s not do this again.” He replies as he walks away, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder. You roll your eyes, sighing as you watch him gradually disappear from view.<</if>> What will you do next? <fieldset>\ <<if $speakastrid is false>>[[• Talk to Astrid]]<<elseif $speakastrid is true>>Talk to Astrid<</if>> [[• Return to your tent]] </fieldset>\

After fifty punches, Nico smoothly transitions to a cat stance. His weight shifts to his back leg and he rests his front leg on the ball of his foot. He has his arms positioned near his hips, his right arm coming up to shield his face as he unleashes a front kick. You can hear the crisp sound of his leg cutting through the air as he kicks. When his leg comes down, he pivots and carefully steps before releasing another front kick. He does fifty kicks before shifting back to his horse stance and punching. His breathing barely changes as he runs through his stances. Occasionally he will glance at you from the corner of his eye, surprised to still see you standing there. He sighs, seemingly resigned to answering your questions whether he wants to or not. <fieldset>\ <<if $nicojso is false>>[[• “Do you want to join the soulforge order?”|Nico jso]]<<elseif $nicojso is true>>“Do you want to join the soulforge order?”<</if>> <<if $nicowtsti is false>>[[• “What do you think the soul trial is?”|Nico wtsti]]<<elseif $nicowtsti is true>>“What do you think the soul trial is?”<</if>> <<if $nicopst is true>>“Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”<<elseif $twintransfer is false>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst False Twin Transfer]]<<elseif $twintransfer is true>>[[• “Is this how you’ve been preparing for the soul trial?”|Nico pst]]<</if>> <<if $nicowstm is true>>“What did you want to say to me earlier?”<<elseif $nicowstm is false>>[[• “What did you want to say to me earlier?”]]<</if>> [[• The conversation has drawn to a close]] </fieldset>\

Silently you agree with Nico, it was shocking that you never heard anything about the twin’s transfer into the academy. It was rare for people to transfer into Buchholz, that was already notable, but for them to join in their final year? It was practically unheard of. You’ve always had your finger on the pulse of Buchholz yet somehow this slipped past. You shake your head ruefully, “I don’t know how I never heard about you and Astrid.” Nico looks pleased, practically preening as he says, “Perhaps your information gathering skills need some work.” He returns to his workout with renewed vigour, a small smile on his face. Scratching your head you watch him, desperately searching through your memories from earlier in the year. However, you can only recall your own experiences at Buchholz. The academy’s clique problem comes to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[Ask Nico another question]] <<set $nicorelationship +=2>>

“It’s not all that shocking,” You reply with a laugh, “I’m not one to pay attention to what others say. If I did hear about you and your sister, I would have likely brushed it aside since I couldn’t confirm it for myself.” You punctuate the end of your statement with a shrug. Nico’s face shifts from expression to expression, hesitance to relief flashing across his face before finally settling on an expression of begrudging respect. “The smartest thing you’ve said all day,” He replies, his arms crossed over his chest and his nose pointed upwards. “If people put as much effort into their training as they do spreading gossip, we would have far more soulforge warriors.” He returns to his workout, executing the movements with renewed vigour. You watch him, your mind casting itself back to the early years of your academy life. Recalling own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem comes to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[Ask Nico another question]] <<set $nicorelationship +=3>>

It’s hardly a surprise that the news did not reach you. You kept to yourself at Buccholz and stuck to the shadows. The academy was known for its cutthroat environment, cliques being a prominent problem, and you found that keeping a low profile was the best way to navigate those treacherous waters. You couldn’t help showing a sympathetic expression towards Nico. Recalling your own experience at Buccholz, you remember how ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Nico asks with a displeased expression, his arms crossed over his chest. Sensing that he would take your concern as pity, you shake your head, avoiding the matter. He glares at you but turns away, returning to his workout. With him distracted, you reflect on how difficult it must have been for Astrid and Nico to adapt to the academy in the limited time frame they had. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[Ask Nico another question]]

A smirk teases the corner of your lips, “Guess you didn’t make as much of a splash as you thought.” Nico scowls, the tips of his ears turning red. The air between you two feels charged, your eyes locked and neither of you willing to look away first. A silent challenge was issued and you both readily accepted it. Nico stepped forward, his shoulders drawn back and a haughty tilt to his jaw. Not one to back down, you match his stride, your hands resting in your pants’ pockets. “I think you’re lying. Why else would you be so insistent on chatting with me?” Nico counters with a smug drawl. “I have my reasons.” You find yourself only a few steps away from Nico now. Your feet drew you closer than you anticipated. Nico studies your face with an intense expression, his thoughts indecipherable. However, before you could question him, there was a burst of chatter behind you. A group of students jog past, their laughter and chatter piercing the bubble around you. Nico shakes his head and steps back, returning to his workout with a strange expression. Watching him, you recall your own experiences at Buchholz. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[Ask Nico another question]]

You shrug, “My mind was solely focused on my studies and training. It was rare for me to be concerned with what other students were talking about at the academy.” Nico nods approvingly, his arms crossed over his chest, “I was the same. There is no need to waste time that could be better used honing my body or mind.” The two of you share a smile, a silent acknowledgement of respect for each other's hard work. A comfortable silence settles over you as Nico returns to his workout and you are left with your thoughts, watching him. Recalling own experiences at Buchholz, the academy’s clique problem comes to the forefront of your mind. Ninety percent of the student population came from military families and often looked down on students from other backgrounds. It would have been extremely difficult for Astrid and Nico to integrate themselves amongst their classmates. Even if they were from a military family themselves, the tight-knit groups would have already been formed. There would be no place for outsiders. This is all without even considering the brutal reality of Astrid and Nico having to play catchup in regards to their studying and training. The first few months of their arrival would have been plagued by evening classes which were notoriously difficult. It would have been an extremely difficult adjustment period. [[Ask Nico another question]] <<set $nicorelationship +=5>>

Nico sighs, his body instinctively turning away, leaving only the side of his face in view. He appears exhausted, his shoulders hunching forward. “Look, what I said, or didn’t say, isn’t important. All you need to know is that you caught us,” His hand flaps between Astrid and himself, “during a bad time.” “And it’s best if you just pretend you never heard anything, okay?” Nico insists, facing you once again. His arms are crossed over his chest and the evening’s shadows fall across his solemn features. The air between you is rife with things unsaid. You carefully consider your next step, instinctively aware that you need to tread carefully. <fieldset>\ [[Push for an answer|“We’re done talking.”]] [[Nod and ask another question|Ask Nico another question]] </fieldset>\ <<set $twinproblem1 to true>> <<set $nicowstm to true>>

“This little chat has run its course, we’re done talking.” Nico declares, walking away. He storms into his tent, grabbing his toiletries, clothes and towel. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he walks past, heading towards the shower stalls. His voice must have been loud enough for Astrid to hear the exchange because her sigh follows his exit. You watch him retreat to the shower stalls, his aggressive walk sending students in his path scurrying to the side. Whispers immediately erupt amongst the groups, their eyes darting from Nico to you. Shaking your head you try your best to ignore their prying stares. //I guess I’m not getting anything from him...// With your hands on your hips, you purse your lips and consider your options. What do you want to do next? <fieldset>\ <<if $speakastrid is false>>[[• Talk to Astrid]]<<elseif $speakastrid is true>>Talk to Astrid<</if>> [[• Return to your tent]] </fieldset>\ <<set $nicoleftconvo to true>>

Before you, stands the gaping maw of a large cavern, twenty meters wide and fifteen meters high. Within, you can see stalactites and stalagmites protruding from the floor and ceiling with some going so far as to interconnect forming false pillars in the dim and dank cave. When you and the other students are led to the cave’s entrance, lined up in neat and orderly rows of thirty just in front of it, you’re able to see further in. You can make out multiple small openings, little more than just shadowed burrowings into the rock whose interiors are entirely swallowed by the sheer darkness of the cavity. “Welcome.” Heads whip around and bodies tense at the sudden greeting, the husky voice catching everyone but the invigilators off guard. They continue to stand motionless, their hands folded behind their backs and impassive expressions on their faces, their eyes fixed forward. A figure steps out from the darkness of the cave, dropping off a small ledge and landing without a sound. Stepping into the light, a woman is revealed. She has strawberry blonde hair that is pulled into a ponytail and bangs that fall over her cold, sea-green eyes. She has fair skin and her nose bridge, a little crooked, has smatterings of brown freckles that lighten as they move down her cheeks and towards her ears. It highlights her diamond-shaped face. Over her shoulder, you can see the red glow of an anima weapon strapped to her back. She has an athletic build, the line of muscle on her arms and legs visible even through her black and red uniform. She moves in a careful and controlled manner, her feet barely leaving imprints on the ground as she examines each row. [[Continue|Mina introduces herself]]

“My name is Wilhelmina Rothman, Vanguard and Senior Drill Sergeant of the Voxis Soulforge Order.” Her voice rings out, each word spoken with firm confidence, “I will be in charge of this year’s soul trial.” Murmurs erupt, and curiosity builds amongst the students, but they die quickly under the stern stare of Sergeant Rothman. “You will be called up in groups of twenty and at my signal, you will enter the cave through one of the openings. No one can enter the same opening in a round. You are to navigate through the cave and find an exit. You will enter into the cave with only the clothes on your back and a tracking tag.” She holds up a silver bracelet with a small circular charm on it, the charm glows green. “Not only will this allow us to track you inside the cave, it also allows us to monitor your vitals. If you are in distress, it will immediately trigger a distress signal and help will be sent.” Sergeant Rothman presses the charm and lifts it for everyone to see, the charm now flashing red. “When the light changes to red, that means help is on the way. It cannot be manually activated. There will only be outside interference if the charm detects that you are unable to continue.” She continues her speech, “If you cannot find an exit within twenty minutes, you will fail, and your charm will automatically alert us of your location and we will escort you out.” She looks around, “Are there any questions?” “Is that it?” A brave voice asks. Sergeant Rothman stares at the student with a cool expression, “That’s it.” Whispered conversations break out around you, confusion and anxiety filling their voices. Sergeant Rothman watches as you and the other students are encouraged to set up your tents and prepare yourselves by the invigilators, the space in front of the cave is quickly inundated with moving bodies and tents. [[Once everyone has settled, students are called forward]] <<set $haveMetMina to true>>\ <<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Mina added<</notify>>\

From the entrance of your pitched tent, you sit and watch as students are called forward. Twenty jittery bodies stand before Sergeant Rothman, spines straight and hands clasped tightly behind their backs as she walks past each of them, scrutinising them. You can see the staff strapped to her back as she conducts her examination. The anima weapon is long, the staff almost the same size as Sergeant Rothman herself, only a few inches shorter. Unlike Commander Strang’s weapon, the blood in her weapon moves erratically, the glow of her weapon dimming and brightening in irregular intervals. “Go.” Sergeant Rothman’s sharp command is followed immediately, students scrambling towards the small openings of the cave. Some require students to contort their bodies, their shoulders too wide to squeeze through comfortably, while other openings, students can dash head first into without complication. You imagined that the first round would be a good litmus test for what to expect, yet you are stunned by the results. Barely five minutes pass before seven of the invigilators' holopads begin to beep, the men and women taking one look at their devices before sprinting into the caves. It is not long before the seven students are dragged out of the cave, their bodies shaking and their training clothes drenched with sweat. One student has vomited onto the front of his shirt while another has a rapidly forming bruise on the side of her face. Their injuries are assessed and those who need medical attention are swiftly rushed to the medical tent that was set up earlier; while the others are helped back to their tents. <fieldset>\ [[• Observe the students that are brought out and the openings they chose closely]] [[• Warm up your body with stretches and light drills]] [[• Offer water to a returned student]] </fieldset>\

You spend the next hour closely watching the participating students; taking note of the openings chosen and the results. Ninety people run into the cave during the period and all ninety fail. Invigilators and Sergeant Rothman escort, or at times, carry students out of the cave. Each time, the student is drenched in sweat and dishevelled, their faces pale and tremors wracking their bodies. The students who needed medical attention were few and far between; the injuries ranged from bruises and light cuts to sprained ankles. A majority of the failed students were dropped off at their tents and quickly passed out from exhaustion; leaving those around them with unanswered questions. From your observations, the students who entered the larger openings pressed their alert bracelets sooner. Out of the ninety students, fifty of those students failed the exam within the first five minutes and eighty percent of those were students who entered through a large opening. Whereas students who squeezed into the smaller openings showed more favourable results. On average, they lasted until the ten-minute mark, and those who lasted past the fifteen-minute mark also favoured the smaller openings. Resting your chin on top of your intertwined hands, you stare at the cave’s interior, mapping out the positions of the smaller entry points. A plan slowly unfolds in your mind as the data you’ve collected coalesces into a path that you believe holds the key to your success. [[Four hours pass]] <<set $tactician +=5>> <<set $observecave to true>>

You watched in grim silence as student after student entered the cave. Their bodies darted into the darkness, only to reappear drenched in sweat and dishevelled minutes later, their faces pale and tremors wracking their bodies. Most would lean against the invigilators as they were escorted out, but some had to be carried. The students who needed medical attention were few and far between; the injuries ranged from bruises and light cuts to sprained ankles. A majority of the failed students were dropped off at their tents and quickly passed out from exhaustion; leaving those around them with unanswered questions. Shaking your head, you jump to your feet, turning your back to the cave. You decided it would do no good to just stare at the cave and watch the fate of others when you could actively work towards improving your fate. You start your training by stretching, releasing the tension built up in your body and loosening your limbs. Ignoring the furtive stares sent your way by other students, you slowly work through the drills taught to you at the academy. Focusing on your breathing and movements, making sure you exhaled each time your fist lashed out and ensuring no energy was wasted. The sun bore down on you, sweat threatening to enter your eyes, but you pushed through. Exercising allows you to clear your mind and stabilise your confidence, pushing the failures of others to the back of your mind and instead, focusing on your strengths and what you could do. Leaning down to grab your water, you catch Sergeant Rothman staring at you, the corner of her lips raised slightly. Straightening, water in hand, she gives you a single nod. Her impassive mask sliding back on her face when she turns to ready the next batch of students. [[Four hours pass]] <<set $combat +=5>> <<set $minarelationship +=5>>\

You watched in grim silence as student after student entered the cave. Their bodies darted into the darkness, only to reappear drenched in sweat and dishevelled minutes later, their faces pale and tremors wracking their bodies. Most would lean against the invigilators as they were escorted out, but some had to be carried. The students who needed medical attention were few and far between; the injuries ranged from bruises and light cuts to sprained ankles. A majority of the failed students were dropped off at their tents and quickly passed out from exhaustion; leaving those around them with unanswered questions. A student all but collapsed into the tent next to you, the man’s training shirt plastered against his body and red sand smeared across his forehead. He lays sprawled across his bedroll, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his feet weakly kicking out as he tries to remove his boots. It is a losing battle and beneath the arm thrown over his face, you can see his frustration mounting. Taking pity on the man, you untie his boots and help him remove them. He startles and sits up, looking at you with wide eyes. “Want some water?” You ask, tilting your water flask towards him. With a befuddled expression, he reaches out for the water instinctively, staring at the water with a pensive expression once it is in his hands. <fieldset>\ [[• You offered the water in the hopes of getting information from him]] [[• You offered the water because you wanted to help]] </fieldset>\

The air around the mountain became thick with dread, the sun still high in the sky even as evening approaches. The sun’s beams catch the pacing and frantic forms of the students, casting long shadows. Four hours had passed, three hundred and sixty students had entered the cave, and all of them had returned defeated. <<if $militarybackground is true>>During the third hour, Frederich entered the cave with a self-assured smirk, taking off at a sprint at Sergeant Rothman’s command. He shoulder-barged a student, knocking them down and claiming one of the larger openings for himself. You believed he had passed when the twenty-minute deadline came and went, but it was not long after that Sergeant Rothman carried him out, and he woke up furious. His fists rained down onto his tent, breaking the structure, his face red with anger. His friends tried to calm him down but he lashed out, only an invigilator able to calm him.<<elseif $militarybackground is false>>During the third hour, you and the other students felt a spark of hope, as time ticked away and there was still no sign of the last remaining student of group nine. The blonde-haired male had an air of confidence around him when he lined up, a cocky grin on his face. He was quick to move towards one of the larger openings, shoulder-barging another student out of his way. You and everyone else believed that he would be the first student to pass the soul trial when the twenty-minute deadline came and went. However, it was not long after that Sergeant Rothman carried him out, and he woke up furious. His fists rained down onto his tent, breaking the structure, his face red with anger. Students around him, perhaps his friends, tried to calm him down but he lashed out, only an invigilator able to calm him.<</if>> When your name was called alongside nineteen other students, the mood was low. Many of the students are surrounded by an air of resignation, sluggishly climbing to their feet and walking to Sergeant Rothman with leadened feet. Exiting your tent, your eyes flicker down to your backpack. <fieldset>\ [[• Sneak your pulsefire baton into the cave]] [[• Sneak your drone into the cave]] [[• Hesitate but ultimately decide not to cheat]] [[• Look away, cheating doesn’t even cross your mind]] </fieldset>\

“Sorry for startling you, I saw you were struggling and wanted to help.” You say gently, hoping to lower his guard. The tension in his body slowly drains away at your words, the man slumping against his bedroll once again. He takes a long drink from your water flask, and sighs gratefully, passing your water flask back. “Thank you,” He eventually replies, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes, exhaustion written across his face. “No need to thank me,” You respond, “I don’t think anyone was prepared for how taxing the soul trial would be. You and the others look as if you were thrown into the wringer.” You pick your words carefully, hoping he would offer some insight. He takes the bait. “How could we prepare for something like this?” He grumbles, waving his hand towards the cave, “I entered the cave through one of the east openings, thinking I got lucky by not having to squeeze through those smaller ones on the west side, and I barely made it five minutes in there.” He runs his hand through his sweat-matted locks, “It was like a damn maze in there. The only light source is those luminescent crystals embedded in the walls so I was practically navigating blind! But that wasn’t even the worst part.” “It wasn’t?” You encouraged him, taking mental notes of everything he was sharing. “No. The air… there was something strange about it. It felt thin, I found myself struggling to breathe. I had to press the charm.” He sighs before burying his face into his pillow. You leave him to rest, ruminating over his words as you walk back to your tent. [[Four hours pass]] <<set $tactician +=5>> <<set $caveinfo to true>>\

“Sorry for startling you, I saw you were struggling and wanted to help.” You say with a kind smile, moving to pick up his shoes and tuck them into the corner of the tent. The tension in his body slowly drains away at your words, the man slumping against his bedroll once again. He takes a long drink from your water flask, and sighs gratefully, passing your water flask back. “Thank you,” He eventually replies, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes, exhaustion written across his face. “No need to thank me,” You respond, “I don’t think anyone was prepared for how taxing the soul trial would be.” Your eyes move towards the medical tent, a frown coming to your face as you watch students collapse into the cots. “It feels like we are ill-equipped to handle what awaits us in the cave.” The man laughs dryly, shaking his head, “You don’t know the half of it.” “I entered the cave through one of the east openings, thinking I got lucky by not having to squeeze through those smaller ones on the west side, and I barely made it five minutes in there.” He runs his hand through his sweat-matted locks, “It was like a damn maze in there. The only light source is those luminescent crystals embedded in the walls so I was practically navigating blind!” “That would explain the injuries, people were likely stumbling around in the dark,” You reply, your nose scrunching up in displeasure, “They should have allowed us to take our drones in! We could have avoided those pointless injuries.” The man shakes his head, “The paths were clear enough, the real danger was the air.” Your eyebrows furrow, “The air?” You parrot. He nods, “The air. There was something… strange about it. It felt thin, I found myself struggling to breathe. I panicked, afraid I would pass out and suffocate.” He grimaces. “You made it out,” You reassure him, “It’s all behind you now.” He nods and a grateful smile stretches across his face before dissolving into a loud yawn, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll let you rest.” You whisper to the man as he turns over and buries his face into his pillow, quickly falling asleep. [[Four hours pass]] <<set $folkhero +=5>> <<set $caveinfo to true>>\

Crouching down, you pretend to retie the laces of your boots, your body positioned perfectly next to your backpack. Carefully, you slip your pulsefire baton out of your backpack and slide it up your pants leg, tucking it into your boot. You run your hand over your pants leg, under the guise of tucking the hem back into your boot, ensuring there is no visible outline. An impatient invigilator shouts for you to hurry, which prompts you to quickly jog towards Sergeant Rothman. Joining the line, you fall into the rest position, alongside the students in your group. With your eyes focused forward and spine straight, you keep your gaze just above Sergeant Rothman’s head. She prowls around your group, her eyes carefully examining each of you with a cool and calculating gaze. There is shuffling and uneasy swallowing when Sergeant Rothman approaches the back, where you are located. She stops, her eyes fixated on you, her sea green eyes dart towards your leg. Your heart stops and you fight to not fidget. Time seems to stretch as you struggle to not squirm under her eyes. The faintest hint of a smirk crosses her face before disappearing as if it was never there. She continues, her staff bouncing slightly as she inspects the last remaining students. Once satisfied, Sergeant Rothman walks to the front of the group, her hands clasped behind her back. “You have twenty-minutes to find an exit.” She reminds your group with a stern voice. “Begin!” <fieldset>\ <<if $caveinfo is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, remembering what the man said]]<<elseif $caveinfo is false>>[[• You pick one of the smaller openings to enter]]<</if>> <<if $observecave is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, based on your observations, it is the safest choice]]<</if>> [[• You pick one of the larger openings to enter]] </fieldset>\ <<set $batoncave to true>>

Crouching down, you pretend to retie the laces of your boots, your body positioned perfectly next to your backpack. Carefully, you slip your drone out of your backpack and slide it under your shirt. You run your hand over your shirt, under the guise of tucking your shirt into your pants, and secure the drone by tucking it into your pants waistband. An impatient invigilator shouts for you to hurry, which prompts you to quickly jog towards Sergeant Rothman. Joining the line, you fall into the rest position, alongside the students in your group. With your eyes focused forward and spine straight, you keep your gaze just above Sergeant Rothman’s head. She prowls around your group, her eyes carefully examining each of you with a cool and calculating gaze. There is shuffling and uneasy swallowing when Sergeant Rothman approaches the back, where you are located. She stops, her eyes fixated on you, her sea green eyes dart towards your waist. Your heart stops and you fight to not fidget. Time seems to stretch as you struggle to not squirm under her eyes. The faintest hint of a smirk crosses her face before disappearing as if it was never there. She continues, her staff bouncing slightly as she inspects the last remaining students. Once satisfied, Sergeant Rothman walks to the front of the group, her hands clasped behind her back. “You have twenty-minutes to find an exit.” She reminds your group with a stern voice. “Begin!” <fieldset>\ <<if $caveinfo is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, remembering what the man said]]<<elseif $caveinfo is false>>[[• You pick one of the smaller openings to enter]]<</if>> <<if $observecave is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, based on your observations, it is the safest choice]]<</if>> [[• You pick one of the larger openings to enter]] </fieldset>\ <<set $dronecave to true>>

You stare at your backpack, one foot hovering out of your tent. Your mind whispers that it would be easy to sneak your drone or pulsefire baton in, and you find your fingers twitching towards the backpack. But you refrain at the last moment, shaking your head and slowly backing away. You hurry towards Sergeant Rothman, eager to avoid further temptation. Joining your fellow students, you fall into the rest position, awaiting Sergeant Rothman’s orders. She prowls around your group, her eyes carefully examining each of you with a cool and calculating gaze. There is shuffling and uneasy swallowing when Sergeant Rothman approaches the back, where you are located. Her eyes pass over your body with barely a second glance, completing her examination swiftly. Once satisfied with her inspection, Sergeant Rothman walks to the front of the group, her hands clasped behind her back. “You have twenty-minutes to find an exit.” She reminds your group with a stern voice. “Begin!” <fieldset>\ <<if $caveinfo is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, remembering what the man said]]<<elseif $caveinfo is false>>[[• You pick one of the smaller openings to enter]]<</if>> <<if $observecave is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, based on your observations, it is the safest choice]]<</if>> [[• You pick one of the larger openings to enter]] </fieldset>\

As quickly as your eyes fell on your backpack, they left, refocusing on Sergeant Rothman and the gathering students ahead. You march out of your tent, not paying any mind to your backpack and its contents. You pass scrambling students and are one of the first in line. You fall into the rest position and await Sergeant Rothman’s orders. After a short period, everyone has gathered, and she begins her prowl around your group. Her eyes carefully examine each of you with a cool and calculating gaze. There is shuffling and uneasy swallowing when Sergeant Rothman approaches; your row is the first to be examined. Her eyes pass over your body with barely a second glance, swiftly completing her examination. She continues, marching through row after row until she is satisfied with her inspection. Once complete, Sergeant Rothman walks to the front of the group, her hands clasped behind her back. “You have twenty-minutes to find an exit.” She reminds your group with a stern voice. “Begin!” <fieldset>\ <<if $caveinfo is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, remembering what the man said]]<<elseif $caveinfo is false>>[[• You pick one of the smaller openings to enter]]<</if>> <<if $observecave is true>>[[• Sprint towards a smaller opening, based on your observations, it is the safest choice]]<</if>> [[• You pick one of the larger openings to enter]] </fieldset>\

At Sergeant Rothman’s shout, you sprint towards one of the smaller openings in the cave. //The larger cave openings are too dangerous to enter,// you think to yourself, nimbly weaving around the other students. You mentally say thank you to the man as you avoid the stampede of students rushing to the larger openings. You arrive at an opening, too narrow at first glance, but after contorting and twisting your body, you squeeze through. A wall slides over the opening, sealing you inside. <<if $dronecave is false>>The rocky walls press down on your body, your chest barely able to rise and fall as you wiggle through the narrow space. You can only move in small increments through the passage, the jagged rock digging painfully into your cheek as you slide across it, unable to turn your head.<<elseif $dronecave is true>>The rocky walls press down on your body, and you struggle to breathe as your drone digs into you as you wiggle through the narrow space. You can only move in small increments through the passage, the jagged rock digging painfully into your cheek as you slide across it, unable to turn your head.<</if>> Each second trapped in the passage feels like an eternity, the pinprick of light seemingly never growing closer as you claw and push through. Your hands and face amassing small cuts as the rocky surface tugs and jabs at your flesh, blood and sweat intermingling. It is with a strangled cry that you pop out of the narrow passage, nearly falling to your knees in the chamber. You greedily suck in air, your harsh pants and gasps echoing throughout the empty chamber. Faint green luminescent crystals wink at you from the walls, half-hidden by the red rock. Once recovered, you look around the room, intent on finding an exit. Stalactites hang precariously above you like the fangs of a beast, gnashing its teeth to warn you off from further entry. The light in the cave is minimal and you find yourself squinting, struggling to make out the finer details of the chamber. <fieldset>\ <<if $dronecave is true>>[[• Use your drone’s light to search the chamber]]<<elseif $dronecave is false>>Choice unavailable<</if>> [[• Place your hand on the wall and walk around, using the wall to guide you]] [[• Find a loose rock and bash out a piece of a crystal]] <<if $batoncave is true>>[[• Use your baton to pry a crystal piece loose]]<<elseif $batoncave is false>>Choice unavailable<</if>> </fieldset>\

Your eyes dart from opening to opening, calculating the distance you would need to travel to each one. Most students are focused on the larger openings, their bodies facing east. Seeing this, you instinctively face west, towards the smaller openings. Your eyes lock onto the west wall where the smaller burrows lie. At Sergeant Rothman’s shout, you sprint forward, nimbly weaving around the other students. Out of the corner of your eye, you see students collide, fighting to enter a large opening. You arrive at your opening, too narrow at first glance, but after contorting and twisting your body, you squeeze through. A wall slides over the opening, sealing you inside. <<if $dronecave is false>>The rocky walls press down on your body, your chest barely able to rise and fall as you wiggle through the narrow space. You can only move in small increments through the passage, the jagged rock digging painfully into your cheek as you slide across it, unable to turn your head.<<elseif $dronecave is true>>The rocky walls press down on your body, and you struggle to breathe as your drone digs into you as you wiggle through the narrow space. You can only move in small increments through the passage, the jagged rock digging painfully into your cheek as you slide across it, unable to turn your head.<</if>> Each second trapped in the passage feels like an eternity, the pinprick of light seemingly never growing closer as you claw and push through. Your hands and face amassing small cuts as the rocky surface tugs and jabs at your flesh, blood and sweat intermingling. It is with a strangled cry that you pop out of the narrow passage, nearly falling to your knees in the chamber. You greedily suck in air, your harsh pants and gasps echoing throughout the empty chamber. Faint green luminescent crystals wink at you from the walls, half-hidden by the red rock. Once recovered, you look around the room, intent on finding an exit. Stalactites hang precariously above you like the fangs of a beast, gnashing its teeth to warn you off from further entry. The light in the cave is minimal and you find yourself squinting, struggling to make out the finer details of the chamber. <fieldset>\ <<if $dronecave is true>>[[• Use your drone’s light to search the chamber]]<<elseif $dronecave is false>>Choice unavailable<</if>> [[• Place your hand on the wall and walk around, using the wall to guide you]] [[• Find a loose rock and bash out a piece of a crystal]] <<if $batoncave is true>>[[• Use your baton to pry a crystal piece loose]]<<elseif $batoncave is false>>Choice unavailable<</if>> </fieldset>\

At Sergeant Rothman’s shout, you sprint towards one of the smaller openings in the cave. You recall the injured and exhausted students that limped out from the larger openings as you glance at the stream of students who all stampede towards them. //I need to enter a smaller opening, it’s the safest choice,// you think to yourself, nimbly weaving around the other students. You arrive at an opening, too narrow at first glance, but after contorting and twisting your body, you squeeze through. A wall slides over the opening, sealing you inside. <<if $dronecave is false>>The rocky walls press down on your body, your chest barely able to rise and fall as you wiggle through the narrow space. You can only move in small increments through the passage, the jagged rock digging painfully into your cheek as you slide across it, unable to turn your head.<<elseif $dronecave is true>>The rocky walls press down on your body, and you struggle to breathe as your drone digs into you as you wiggle through the narrow space. You can only move in small increments through the passage, the jagged rock digging painfully into your cheek as you slide across it, unable to turn your head.<</if>> Each second trapped in the passage feels like an eternity, the pinprick of light seemingly never growing closer as you claw and push through. Your hands and face amassing small cuts as the rocky surface tugs and jabs at your flesh, blood and sweat intermingling. It is with a strangled cry that you pop out of the narrow passage, nearly falling to your knees in the chamber. You greedily suck in air, your harsh pants and gasps echoing throughout the empty chamber. Faint green luminescent crystals wink at you from the walls, half-hidden by the red rock. Once recovered, you look around the room, intent on finding an exit. Stalactites hang precariously above you like the fangs of a beast, gnashing its teeth to warn you off from further entry. The light in the cave is minimal and you find yourself squinting, struggling to make out the finer details of the chamber. <fieldset>\ <<if $dronecave is true>>[[• Use your drone’s light to search the chamber]]<<elseif $dronecave is false>>Choice unavailable<</if>> [[• Place your hand on the wall and walk around, using the wall to guide you]] [[• Find a loose rock and bash out a piece of a crystal]] <<if $batoncave is true>>[[• Use your baton to pry a crystal piece loose]]<<elseif $batoncave is false>>Choice unavailable<</if>> </fieldset>\

At Sergeant Rothman’s shout, you sprint towards one of the larger openings in the cave. Other students are hot on your heels, bodies colliding and clashing as students push and shove to reach their desired opening. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a student rapidly approach you, their head lowered and shoulder poised to barge into you. You stop abruptly, hopping back and pivoting off your foot, narrowly dodging the student’s charge. Their face is twisted in shock as they crash to the floor, not expecting your sudden pivot. Your movement causes a pileup as students stumble over the fallen would-be assailant, creating space for you to dive into the burrow. A wall slides over the opening, sealing you inside. Your feet pound against the floor as you run down the passage, the rhythmic thuds echoing off the walls. Your breathing grows ragged as you journey further into the cave, the air becoming harder and harder to draw in. You stumble, your hand sliding against the rough wall as you barely catch yourself. //The air… it's too thin// You realise grimly, blinking rapidly to chase away the black dots dancing around your vision. Suddenly, your shirt feels too tight around your neck, your hand clawing at the neckline, tugging and stretching the material. Your chest rapidly falls and expands as you desperately attempt to suck in the air. Your legs lock up and your body falls like a puppet that had its strings cut, crumbling to the floor. You grunt as your knees hit the floor, your shoulder bouncing off the wall. Bent over and arms shakily holding you up, you frantically try to recall your lessons, biting back your rising panic. Out of the corner of your eye you see the green light of your charm, the vibrant green taunting you. //How long until you turn red?// You think darkly, your head resting against the wall, using it to ground you as your head spins. [[Continue|Pressure Breathing]]

Pulling the drone free from the waistband of your pants, you set it on the ground and command it to scan the chamber. Activating at the sound of your voice, the drone slowly rises into the air. A blue halo of light forms around it as it casts its gaze around, the red walls taking on a purple hue as the drone passes by. A low hum fills the air as the drone works, its sleek metal body deftly avoiding the stalactites. On one of the small ledges, just a foot off the ground, the drone spots an exit. The drone beeps loudly at the moment of discovery, and as it beeps, the low hum in the room shifts to a sharper sound, an almost shrill ringing. You pause your trot towards the exit, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as the sound grows shriller, animal-like in its intensity. Scanning the room for the source of the noise, you notice that the once-dim crystals have brightened. The crystals' luminescent green glow are like a predator's unblinking eyes at night. It is then that you realise the noise is coming from the crystals. As the crystals glow and grow brighter, the shrill scream builds, piercing your eardrums. You scramble up the ledge, desperate to escape the keening cry and come face to face with your drone, now violently shaking in the air. A high-pitch whine joins the shrill cacophony as the metal around the drone cracks and shatters, shards flying out. A yelp of pain escapes your mouth as a shard slashes across the back of your hand that you brought up instinctively to protect your face. You dive to the floor, curling up into a ball to shield yourself from the shower of metal. With a deafening crack, the drone explodes. Metal and wire rain down around you, and you flinch as bits and pieces bounce off your body. When the downpour ends, you slowly uncurl, shakily getting to your feet. It is silent. The crystals’ light dimmed once again. You stare at the pieces of what was once your drone with grim realisation. //This is why we were instructed to bring nothing in...// [[With nothing else to do, you cautiously enter the passage]] <<set $cutonhand to true>> <<set $dronegone to true>>

Placing your left hand against the wall, you walk slowly around the chamber, your hand dragging across the rough surface. The dim light of the luminescent green crystals are like dying stars scattered across the night sky. Their light barely illuminates the stalactites that jut out of the ceiling, let alone your path. The unblinking crystals watch as you poke and prod around with your hands and feet, searching for an opening. The chamber is silent, only the scrapping of your boots across the floor and your careful breathing fill the air. The air has a strong musty odour, and the walls are slick. Your leg discovers the ledge first, your knee knocking against the protruding rock. Climbing up the ledge carefully, you see another narrow passageway. It is dark inside, with no light visible, but you have no other choice but to venture further in. [[You cautiously enter the passage|With nothing else to do, you cautiously enter the passage]]

Crouching down, your hands search the floor for loose rocks, scratching and digging until you find a palm-sized rock. The rock is heavy, the rough edges poking into your palm as you grip it tightly, ready to wield it. You approach a wall, your eyes scanning the surface for a large crystal. You spot a large luminescent green crystal, only partially buried, and bring down your rock. A loud bang rings throughout the chamber as your rock crashes against the wall. A steady rhythm is built as you swing your arm over and over against the wall, the rock crumbling around the crystal. With a final swing, the crystal breaks free from the wall, falling to the floor with a clang. Dropping your rock, you dust your hands against your pants and pick up the crystal. The crystal’s light seems to be reliant on the wall as its glow slowly fades as you move across the chamber, searching for an exit. By the time you find the narrow passageway, an opening just above a small ledge, the crystal’s glow is all but gone. Hopping up, you toss the crystal aside and approach the passage. It is dark inside, with no light visible, but you have no other choice but to venture further in. [[You cautiously enter the passage|With nothing else to do, you cautiously enter the passage]]

Running your hand across the southside walls, those nearest to you, you seek out crystals that could be pried loose. The green glow of the crystals illuminates your face as you peer closely at the wall, your fingers prodding and pulling, testing how affixed into the walls the crystals are. A minute passes before you find a large crystal that is only partially buried. Bending down, you roll up your pants leg, pulling your pulsefire baton free from your boot. The weapon's cool metal casing reflects the luminescent green glow of the crystal as you wedge it into a small crack in the wall. Twisting the bottom of the baton, it begins to vibrate as electricity builds at the tip, cracking the rock around it, and allowing you to dig deeper. A low hum fills the air as you dig around the crystal. As your digging continues, the low hum in the room shifts to a sharper sound, an almost shrill ringing. You pause your digging, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as the sound grows shriller, animal-like in its intensity. You immediately realise that the source of the noise is coming from the crystals around you, and you back away from the wall. The once dim crystals have brightened. The luminescent green glow of the crystals are like the unblinking eyes of a predator at night. As the crystals glow and grow brighter, the shrill scream builds, piercing your eardrums. The pulsefire baton feels unnaturally hot in your hand and you quickly move to switch it off. However, it still violently shakes in your hand and dread fills your stomach. Instinctively you drop the pulsefire baton, the metal rod bouncing across the floor. You watch with growing horror as it writhes on the floor, the metal case splitting in half. You bring your arm up to protect your face just as the pulsefire baton explodes, shards of metal spraying out. A yelp of pain escapes your mouth as a shard cuts the side of your arm. It is silent. Looking up cautiously, you spot an exit above a small ledge by the north wall of the chamber. The bright light of the crystals illuminates it briefly before the light dims gradually, the light dying as the room falls silent. You move quickly towards it, not wanting to waste the light, even as a grim realisation washes over you. //This is why we were instructed to bring nothing in...// [[With nothing else to do, you cautiously enter the passage]] <<set $cutonarm to true>> <<set $batongone to true>>

Walking in darkness with only your soft footsteps for company, you travel through the winding passage. The back of your calves aching as the incline steadily increases. At a point, you begin to crawl, forced to jab your fingers and feet into crevices to continue your journey. Sweat drips from your brow as you climb and eventually pull yourself over the wall’s lip, toppling onto the cool rock floor. The rock’s cold surface is a welcome reprieve against your cheek as you lie sprawled across the floor, catching your breath. Grunting, you push yourself to your elbows, looking ahead. Before you, light trickles out from a crack in one of the chamber’s walls, the first sign of light you’ve seen since entering the cave. You approach the crack and push through, your body forced to turn sideways to fit. When you reappear on the other side, you are met with stale and humid air, a damp and earthy smell clinging to the rough-hewn walls. Fifteen feet above you sit braziers alight with roaring flames on the walls. Their light casts a warm glow across the walls and the altar that stands at the centre of the room. The altar is made from a massive flat-topped boulder that is off-white in colour - a sharp contrast to the red rock of the cave. //Was this stone brought into the cave?// The altar was not the only draw in the chamber. The walls around it are covered in murals, rich earthy tones with splashes of vibrant colour used to paint – ochre, rust red, charcoal black, ocean blue, emerald green and a pale, almost ghostly white. You feel yourself drawn to the paintings, your feet moving before you are even fully conscious of the choice. <<if $wastelanderbackground is true>>[[You recognise the iconography in the murals]]<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is false>>[[You try to decipher the murals]]<</if>>

Gritting your teeth, you force your brain to focus, combing through your academy lessons. Notes, lectures and classes flash past your mind’s eye, desperation filling your body as you sort through your memories. Your hope is starting to dwindle when suddenly two words pop into your mind, pressure breathing. Your head snaps up, hope blooming in your chest. You force your body backwards, collapsing against the wall with your legs splayed out. With your body straight, you breathe in deeply, sucking in as much air as you can manage. Then, you purse your lips and exhale forcefully. Breathe in. Breathe out. You follow the pattern even as your body relaxes, and the black dots disappear. Once comfortable, you climb to your feet, and shake your limbs to rid yourself of the last bits of numbness plaguing your arms and legs. Carefully, you continue forward, following the winding passageway until you find your path blocked by a three-foot high ledge. Climbing up, a narrow passage can be seen ahead. [[You cautiously enter the passage|With nothing else to do, you cautiously enter the passage]]

While the passage of time has taken its toll on the paintings, details stripped away by moisture, the power of the images remained palpable. You recognise the paintings for what they are immediately; records of a lost history and a connection to the Old Gods. Scenes of hunts and harvests, the cycle of birth and death, and day-to-day activities were painted onto the walls. The only common trait shared amongst each scene was an Old God painted above the stylised humans, watching over them. Your fingers carefully trace the white pigment of the wolf’s face that watches a group of humans adorned with elaborate headdresses and carrying what appear to be ceremonial objects. The humans dance around a large bonfire and the white wolf howls in approval above them, its form eclipsing the mountains behind it. In another painting, an eagle soars above a travelling hunting party, providing shade and keeping watch. //Destia and Webe//, you think to yourself, recalling the tales told in the commune about how the Old Gods would visit their worshippers in the form of animals. They favoured animals that reflected their domains so humans would know them on sight. Walking around the room, you found that every Old God was present. Whether their animal stood by a group of humans or was depicted in counsel with other Gods. The biggest painting, an impressive piece that spans the entire north wall, is a stunning depiction of a gathering of the Old Gods. In a forest clearing, they appear, their animal forms communicating and looking at peace. The pigmentation has flaked and tarnished over time, but you can make out most of the details. However… there seems to be a mistake. There is a strange creature painted in the background of the mural. A black silhouette, large in stature and with horns that curve back, casts a shadow across the others. The details of the animal have been lost to time. The pigment and charcoal smudged and flaked, leaving only a rough shadow. All the animals are painted with their heads pointed towards the creature. Counting the shadow… There are eleven Gods in the painting. //There should be ten… Who is the shadow?// <fieldset>\ <<if $echo is true>>[[• Elder Noxolo briefly mentioned an eleventh God once]]<<elseif $echo is false>>[[• You wrack your mind for any information]]<</if>> [[• Shrugging, you move on, exploring the rest of the cave]] </fieldset>\

While the passage of time has taken its toll on the paintings, details stripped away by moisture, meaning could still be extrapolated from the murals. Staring at the paintings, the pieces slowly fell into place, the murals… they’re connected to the worship of the Old Gods. The walls were filled with intricate paintings using heavily stylised figures and symbols to depict scenes of hunts and harvests, the cycle of birth and death, and day-to-day activities. A common trait shared amongst each scene was an animal painted above the stylised humans, watching over them. Your fingers carefully trace the white pigment of a wolf’s face watching over a group of humans adorned with elaborate headdresses and carrying what appears to be ceremonial objects. The humans dance around a large bonfire and the white wolf howls in approval above them, its form eclipsing the mountains behind it. In another painting, an eagle soars above a travelling hunting party, providing shade and keeping watch. //What do the animals mean?// You stare at the murals, carefully studying each painting and trying to uncover the implications of the art. //Could the animals be a link to the Old Gods?// The thought takes root in your mind as you walk around the room, finding more animals in each mural and depicted in various manners. The animals were always larger than the humans in the murals and seemed to be communicating with the humans. The biggest painting, an impressive piece that spans the entire north wall, is a stunning depiction of a gathering of animals. The animals are painted in a forest clearing, communicating and looking at peace. The pigmentation has flaked and tarnished over time, but you can make out most of the details. However… There is a strange creature painted in the background of the mural. A black silhouette, large in stature and with horns that curve back, casts a shadow across the others. The details of the animal have been lost to time. The pigment and charcoal smudged and flaked, leaving only a rough shadow. All the animals are painted with their heads pointed towards the creature. //What animal is this meant to represent? Why is it so different…// <fieldset>\ [[• You stare at the mural in deep thought]] [[• Shrugging, you move on, exploring the rest of the cave]] </fieldset>\

Eleven… Elder Noxolo once mentioned an eleventh God. It was a passing remark, something brought up while sitting around a bonfire when you were young. Elder Noxolo stood across from you, the silver bangles clinking around her wrists as she threw food and other offerings to Destia into the fire. // “Exist always All-Mother, Exist always in our traditions, Travel not the path of Zevrion” A small frown crosses your face and you tilt your head to the side in question, “Zevrion? Who’s that?” Elder Noxolo purses her lips, the weight of her stare unsettling. “He is the God who crafted the veil that protects us.” The crackling fire spits embers into the air, the wisps of smoke and ash floating around Elder Noxolo. “His mastery over the weave of magic was higher than any of the other Gods.” Elder Noxolo explained in a low voice, “The threads of magic obeyed his whims, and some believe it was because he birthed the magic of the world.” You stare wide-eyed at the old woman, enraptured by her words. “However… He disappeared.” “Disappeared?” You parrot in a confused tone. Elder Noxolo nods, a shadow cast across her face, “One day he simply crossed the veil and did not return. With his absence, the weave of magic weakened until it was lost entirely. He has no domain to return to so he is lost to us forever.” “That is why we must keep our traditions alive, $name. As long as we remember the Old Gods and all they have done for us, they will have a home to return to.”Elder Noxolo smiles, emptying her basket into the fire, and you watch as the fire consumes the offerings. “Zevrion…”// You stare at the horns present on the animal, its stature larger than any of the other Gods. You can’t make out any other distinct feature - the number of legs, whether it had a tail or the shape of its head. The details are lost forever, leaving only a looming shadow. [[You turn to explore the altar, the mural watching]]

“Eleventh God… Eleventh God…” You mutter to yourself, pacing in front of the mural, scratching at your head as you struggle to recall the Elders' words from your youth. Abruptly you stop, glaring up at the black smudge, hands on your hips and your lips pursed. No matter how much you wrack your mind for information, no name comes to mind. Vaguely you remember the Elders warning you and others about following traditions and making offerings - stressing the importance. They regarded the matter as keeping the Old Gods alive, stating that as long as they are remembered, they will never leave Azish. //Is this a forgotten God?// You stare at the horns present on the animal, its stature larger than any of the other Gods. You can’t make out any other distinct feature - the number of legs, whether it had a tail or the shape of its head. Unable to glean any further information from the murals you turn to explore the rest of the room, ignoring the nagging sensation at the back of your mind. [[You turn to explore the altar, the mural watching]]

<<if $wastelanderbackground is true>>You stare at the horns present on the animal, its stature larger than any of the other Gods. You can’t make out any other distinct feature - the number of legs, whether it has a tail or the shape of its head. Shrugging, you move towards the altar, unable to glean any information from the mural.<<elseif $wastelanderbackground is false>>You stare at the horns present on the animal, its stature larger than any of the other animals. You can’t make out any other distinct feature - the number of legs, whether it has a tail or the shape of its head. Shrugging, you move towards the altar, unable to glean any information from the mural.<</if>> Moving towards the altar, you notice five crystals poking out from the top of the altar, marring the otherwise perfectly smooth surface. The crystals are evenly spread across the off-white stone, embedded perfectly in the centre and in a line. Each crystal was about the size of your hand and while the majority of it was clear, a white cloud had settled in the middle of each crystal. Your hand moves forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, and you watch with rapt interest as the crystals flicker to life. The crystals begin to glow, each crystal its own distinct colour, as your hand draws near. A crystal would glow brighter the closer your hand hovered. Slowly, you moved your hand over the crystals, watching as gold, green, purple, blue and red light would wash over the altar. Hovering over the red crystal, your eyes widen as you watch the white cloud in the crystal begin to swirl around. Pulling your hand back, the cloud settles, and the red glow dims. Testing the crystal, you allow your hand to hover over it again, studying the white cloud as it spins and twists in the crystal. It moves faster, and faster, and as you stand over the altar, eyes locked on the crystal, images begin to form within the cloud. A hammer slams down onto an anvil, and you jump as the sound of clanging metal erupts around you, the noise bouncing across the rough-hewn walls. [[You whip around instinctively]]

Moving towards the altar, you notice four crystals poking out from the top of the altar, marring the otherwise perfectly smooth surface. The crystals are evenly spread across the off-white stone, embedded perfectly in the centre and in a line. Each crystal was about the size of your hand and while the majority of it was clear, a white cloud had settled in the middle of each crystal. Your hand moves forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, and you watch with rapt interest as the crystals flicker to life. The crystals begin to glow, each crystal its own distinct colour, as your hand draws near. A crystal would glow brighter the closer your hand hovered. Slowly, you moved your hand over the crystals, watching as green, purple, blue and red light would wash over the altar. Hovering over the red crystal, your eyes widen as you watch the white cloud in the crystal begin to swirl around. Pulling your hand back, the cloud settles, and the red glow dims. Testing the crystal, you allow your hand to hover over it again, studying the white cloud as it spins and twists in the crystal. It moves faster, and faster, and as you stand over the altar, eyes locked on the crystal, images begin to form within the cloud. A hammer slams down onto an anvil, and you jump as the sound of clanging metal erupts around you, the noise bouncing across the rough-hewn walls. [[You whip around instinctively]]

Ripping your hand away from the crystal you whip around, eyes darting around the room and your body instinctively falling into a defensive position. However, as your hand leaves the crystal, the room falls silent. The echo of clanging metal abruptly silenced, only the sound of your pounding heart heard as you scan the room. Slowly you turn back to the altar, scrutinising the dim crystal. //What was that? Is this part of the trial?// Questions run through your mind as you face the altar and the four crystals. //There are no other visible exits. The key to leaving must be tied to this altar.// //But how?// <fieldset>\ [[• Hover your hand over the blue crystal]] [[• Hover your hand over the red crystal]] [[• Hover your hand over the green crystal]] [[• Hover your hand over the purple crystal]] </fieldset>\

You stare at the horns present on the animal, its stature larger than any of the other Gods. You can’t make out any other distinct feature - the number of legs, whether it had a tail or the shape of its head. The details are lost forever, leaving only a looming shadow. “Is it a wildebeest? What animal could it be…” You murmur under your breath, studying the painting and looking at the other animals. There was already a bull present in the painting so it could not be a bull. You felt thrown by the fact that the animal was supposedly bigger than the elephant in the painting as well. //If it’s an Old God than the animal’s size could be exaggerated without much pushback. Who am I to dictate how their Old Gods should be painted.// You think with a wry smile, eyes darting around the other walls where a butterfly is painted larger than a human. However, the smile slowly fades when your eyes arrive back at the black shadow. The horned creature seemed to loom over you. The difference in its treatment to the rest of the animals was too significant to ignore. Unable to glean any further information from the murals you turn to explore the rest of the room, ignoring the nagging sensation at the back of your mind. [[You turn to explore the altar, the mural watching]]

Hovering your hand over the blue crystal, you watch as the white cloud crashes against the sides of the crystal like waves against rocks. The once white mist becoming a furious whirlpool as the blue glow of the crystal washes over the altar and your hand. The sharp smell of sea water enters your nostrils and you feel your ears ring as if you were submerged in deep water. The whirling cloud parts and images of farmers tending to their cattle and a midwife delivering a baby erupts out like a geyser. The cries of the newborn are replaced by the sound of thundering hooves as people gallop under a night sky, pointing towards the stars. The stars explode and a scene of people gathering around a crackling bonfire are formed from the scattered star remnants. They laugh and dance around the bonfire, hands raised and their youth marked with the ashes of the fire. The children’s laughter ringing in your ears as stars are drawn on their foreheads. Acrid smoke is replaced by the scent of fresh rainfall - the room filled with the gentle sound of rain hitting the earth as you watch fields of flowers spring to life. Insects and small animals dart around the flowers. <fieldset>\ [[• Touch the blue crystal]] [[• Pull away from the crystal]] </fieldset>\ <<set $hoverblue to true>>

Hovering your hand over the red crystal, you watch as the white cloud rumbles and writhes within the crystal. Like a thunder cloud, the once white mist darkens and expands rapidly inside the crystal. The red glow that pierces through the cloud is like flashes of lightning, cleaving through the mist. The altar and your hand is dyed in a crimson hue. Loud yells and the clanging of weapons bounce across the chamber’s walls as swords and spears cut through the cloud and reveal a battlefield. The cloying metallic scent of blood coats the back of your throat. The cloud explodes out and a scene of kneeling men is shown, their heads bowed and hands tied behind their backs. Another man stands in front of them, shouting towards a crowd that presses forward with fury in their faces. A sword strikes out and mid-swing transforms into scales. Inside the scales you see humans gathered, speaking around a table, the sound of hands slapping against hardwood ringing in your ears. Hands are shaken and humans embrace. The scale tips to one side and the humans fall out, transforming mid-fall into daggers that pierce the earth. <fieldset>\ [[• Touch the red crystal]] [[• Pull away from the crystal]] </fieldset>\ <<set $hoverred to true>>

Hovering your hand over the green crystal, you watch as the white cloud sluggishly moves within the crystal. White wisps are pulled from the cloud, slowly unravelling until a web is formed inside. The emerald glow of the crystal pokes through the gaps of the web, becoming fractured shards of light illuminating your face and the altar. Images flicker across the web, books and scrolls flashing across the smoke, the smell of parchment and ink fills the air. The sound of scratching pens mingle with the rhythmic pounding of a hammer against an anvil. The small hairs on the back of your neck rises as a cloud of hot steam hits your face, the white smoke rippling as you are shown metal hitting water. The cloud implodes, revealing a group of people talking inside a hut. One holds a handful of herbs while those gathered in front of them watch with keen interest as they speak. Tearing the roots off the herbs, they throw it into a bowl and crush it, smearing the paste on a small cut. The others follow suit, carefully copying the movements. <fieldset>\ [[• Touch the green crystal]] [[• Pull away from the crystal]] </fieldset>\ <<set $hovergreen to true>>

The white cloud within the crystal slowly separates, forming smaller and smaller clouds. Once formed, each puff of smoke starts to rotate, spinning like a coin. They spin faster and faster, moving across the crystal in a hypnotic dance, barely touching. The sharp ringing sound of coins clinking together reverberates off the rough-hewn walls as the clouds begin to collide. The colliding clouds cause the smoke to dissipate, revealing a room filled with treasure beneath. Mountains of jewels, gold and gems fill the room. A hand dips into the treasure trove and gold coins pour out from between the fingers. The coins rolling across the floor and disappearing under a curtain. An astringent smell of smoke floods your lungs as the curtain rises, revealing a labyrinth. Smoke rolls across the floor, hiding the footpath. The walls of the labyrinth shift and move, new pathways constantly appearing while previous paths disappear. The grating sound of stone dragging across stone pierce your eardrums. <fieldset>\ [[• Touch the purple crystal]] [[• Pull away from the crystal]] </fieldset>\ <<set $hoverpurple to true>>

Drawn to the blue crystal you watch as your hand moves across the altar, settling on top of it. The crystal is ice cold, the corners of the lead glass like glaciers, yet you can’t bring yourself to lift your hand even as it grows numb. Instead, you stare in silent awe as the other crystals on the altar dull, their colour lost. Meanwhile, the crystal beneath your palm steadily grows brighter. //“Take it”// Your fingers flex around the crystal. //“TAKE IT”// A shudder wracks your frame as hunger like you’ve never experienced carves into you. A ravenous craving that claws at your fraying threads of control. Your nails dig into your stomach, pressing down against your scar, as if to suppress the hunger. But the ache remains. It continues to whisper in your ear. //"₮₳₭Ɇ ł₮"// <fieldset>\ [[• Take the crystal]] [[• Refuse to take the blue crystal]] </fieldset>\

You pull your hand away from the crystal, blinking rapidly as you stare down at the crystal, mouth agape. “What the fuck…” You whisper, shaken by the experience. You stare at the altar in awe, wondering what kind of technology was hidden within that allowed you to smell, hear and see the scenes so vividly inside the crystal. <<if $echo is true>>//If it is technology…// You couldn’t help but think, your eyes darting over to the murals.<<elseif $hesitate is true>>//What if its…// Your eyes dart over to the murals, apprehension filling you.<</if>> The skin around your scar tingles and subconsciously you rest your hand over it, the skin hot against your palm even through your shirt. You feel drawn to the crystals, your fingers twitching as you stare down at the altar, the dim crystals silent and waiting. One hand reaches out towards the crystals while the other remains on your scar. A faint tremor rippling across the puckered flesh. //“Touch it,”// A voice rasps. The voice is not your own. Your eyes lock onto the crystals and your nails dig into your scar. There is no pain. <<if $hoverred is true>>//“What will you stand for?” A deep voice bellows, the voice reverberating through your bones.//<</if>> <<if $hoverblue is true>>//“What is it that you cherish?” A lilting voice asks, a dull ache pinches at your heart.//<</if>> <<if $hovergreen is true>>//“What is it that you seek?” A gravelly voice demands to know; the hairs across your body rising.//<</if>> <<if $hoverpurple is true>>//“What are you willing to do?” A honeyed voice coos; a shiver racing down your spine. //<</if>> <fieldset>\ [[• Hover your hand over the blue crystal]] [[• Hover your hand over the red crystal]] [[• Hover your hand over the green crystal]] [[• Hover your hand over the purple crystal]] </fieldset>\

“No!” You roar, slamming your hand down, forcibly pushing the blue crystal further into the altar. There is a loud click and the room shakes, your body falling forward as the ground shifts beneath you. Sprawled across the top of the altar, you watch as the ground in front of it splits open. Stone grinds against stone as slowly a staircase is revealed, the stairs leading into a dark and narrow tunnel. The staircase disappears behind the altar as you step back, your mind racing as you try to process its sudden appearance. However, you are distracted by the crystals, or what were once the crystals. The crystals have disappeared, replaced by strange engravings. You frown, running your hand across the engravings, your fingertips dipping into the perfectly even and smooth grooves and dents that make up the rune-like markings. You press your hand against the altar’s surface, throwing your weight behind it, yet it remains solid. The runes are unlike anything you’ve seen before. There are no recognisable symbols and you struggle to match it to any language you’ve studied before. While staring, the runes flicker, a blue hue settling around the edges of the engravings. You blink, bringing your hand to your eyes to rub them. Behind your eyelids you see a wolf curled up, sleeping peacefully under a full moon. The stars scattered around the moon twinkle and are bright against the dark night sky. Your eyes fly open. The runes are static, there is no blue hue and the image is gone. Your lips purse together as you back away slowly from the altar, moving towards the staircase, eager to leave the room. [[You climb down the staircase]] <<set $destiatether to true>>

Entering the staircase, you are immediately greeted by a gentle breeze. The wind caresses your face as you race down the tunnel, eager to escape the cave. Your left hand is splayed out on the wall, keeping you steady in the darkness. The only source of light are the small fragments of crystals embedded in the rough-hewn walls. Your feet pound against the ground as you travel further into the tunnel. The narrow passage and uneven ground all you can see until you scale the chute at the end of the tunnel. With your arms stretched out and your legs fighting to find leverage, you awkwardly shuffle up the chute. Rapidly blinking to keep the falling dust from blinding you. Time seems to crawl as you claw your way up the chute, towards the light at the top. Your arms shake and your sweat threatens to blind you but you keep moving. Eventually, through painstaking effort, you manage to reach the top. With a grunt you drag your body through the opening, crawling across the ground until you’re safely through. “I thought there wasn't gonna be anyone joining us this year. Glad to see I’m wrong.” A loud laugh follows the words. [[You look up and see a figure]]

Drawn to the red crystal you watch as your hand moves across the altar, settling on top of it. The crystal makes the hairs on your arm stand, static dancing along the edges of the lead glass that digs into your palm, your hand tingling, yet you can’t bring yourself to lift it. You stare, transfixed, as the other crystals on the altar dull, their colour lost. Meanwhile, the crystal beneath your palm steadily grows brighter. //“Take it”// Your fingers flex around the crystal. //“TAKE IT”// A shudder wracks your frame as hunger like you’ve never experienced carves into you. A ravenous craving that claws at your fraying threads of control. Your nails dig into your stomach, pressing down against your scar, as if to suppress the hunger. But the ache remains. It continues to whisper in your ear. //"₮₳₭Ɇ ł₮"// <fieldset>\ [[• Take the crystal]] [[• Refuse to take the red crystal]] </fieldset>\

Your fingers close around the crystal, nails digging into the edges, and you //pull//. At first, the crystal refuses to budge, the room filled with your grunts as you twist and tug at the crystal. But then you see it, movement, the crystal slowly rising out of its carefully chiselled groove. The sight seems to set your body alight, the fire of your insatiable hunger fanned as more and more of the crystal is revealed. The veins on your arm, dark and squirming, bulge as you tear it free from the altar. The crystal pops out with an ear-grating screech, the lead glass scraping harshly against the altar’s rock. Instinctively, your hand closes around it, the crystal almost disappearing beneath your fingers. The harsh faces of the glass lead digging into your flesh. //CRACK// The crystal gives under the pressure of your grip. Hairline fractures race across the surface, fanning out like an intricate spiderweb, until it completely shatters. Leaving only jagged pieces in your hand. The white cloud, once trapped in the crystal, swirls around your hand. //“₣Ɇ₳₴₮”// You follow the voice's command. Unable to stop yourself - hunger's claws buried deep inside of you. The broken shards of the crystal fall to the ground as you thrust your hand towards your face, a deep rumble building inside your chest. The white wisps are instantly devoured, greedily sucked up by your mouth and nose. The rumble is unleashed as a deep, satisfied purr as the last of the wisps enter you. The gnawing hunger finally satiated, and the claws that held you in its grasp, are withdrawn. Leaving a disconcerting emptiness in its wake. [[The room shakes]] <<set $feedanger +=10>>

“No!” You roar, slamming your hand down, forcibly pushing the red crystal further into the altar. There is a loud click and the room shakes, your body falling forward as the ground shifts beneath you. Sprawled across the top of the altar, you watch as the ground in front of it splits open. Stone grinds against stone as slowly a staircase is revealed, the stairs leading into a dark and narrow tunnel. The staircase disappears behind the altar as you step back, your mind racing as you try to process its sudden appearance. However, you are distracted by the crystals, or what were once the crystals. The crystals have disappeared, replaced by strange engravings. You frown, running your hand across the engravings, your fingertips dipping into the perfectly even and smooth grooves and dents that make up the rune-like markings. You press your hand against the altar’s surface, throwing your weight behind it, yet it remains solid. The runes are unlike anything you’ve seen before. There are no recognisable symbols and you struggle to match it to any language you’ve studied before. While staring, the runes flicker, a red hue settling around the edges of the engravings. You blink, bringing your hand to your eyes to rub them. Behind your eyelids you see a scale, precariously balancing blood and white feathers. An eye haloed by a golden light hangs above it. Your eyes fly open. The runes are static, there is no red hue and the image is gone. Your lips purse together as you back away slowly from the altar, moving towards the staircase, eager to leave the room. [[You climb down the staircase]] <<set $thadentether to true>>

Drawn to the green crystal you watch as your hand moves across the altar, settling on top of it. The crystal is unnaturally hot, the corners of the lead glass are like a brand, burning itself into your palm, yet you can’t bring yourself to lift hand. Instead you stare, transfixed, as the other crystals on the altar dull, their colour lost. Meanwhile, the crystal beneath your palm steadily grows brighter. //“Take it”// Your fingers flex around the crystal. //“TAKE IT”// A shudder wracks your frame as hunger like you’ve never experienced carves into you. A ravenous craving that claws at your fraying threads of control. Your nails dig into your stomach, pressing down against your scar, as if to suppress the hunger. But the ache remains. It continues to whisper in your ear. //"₮₳₭Ɇ ł₮"// <fieldset>\ [[• Take the crystal]] [[• Refuse to take the green crystal]] </fieldset>\

“No!” You roar, slamming your hand down, forcibly pushing the green crystal further into the altar. There is a loud click and the room shakes, your body falling forward as the ground shifts beneath you. Sprawled across the top of the altar, you watch as the ground in front of it splits open. Stone grinds against stone as slowly a staircase is revealed, the stairs leading into a dark and narrow tunnel. The staircase disappears behind the altar as you step back, your mind racing as you try to process its sudden appearance. However, you are distracted by the crystals, or what were once the crystals. The crystals have disappeared, replaced by strange engravings. You frown, running your hand across the engravings, your fingertips dipping into the perfectly even and smooth grooves and dents that make up the rune-like markings. You press your hand against the altar’s surface, throwing your weight behind it, yet it remains solid. The runes are unlike anything you’ve seen before. There are no recognisable symbols and you struggle to match it to any language you’ve studied before. While staring, the runes flicker, a green hue settling around the edges of the engravings. You blink, bringing your hand to your eyes to rub them. Behind your eyelids you see an anvil with a large crack down its middle, held together by heavy chains and engulfed in fire. Above the anvil is a book, open and with words dripping off its pages. Your eyes fly open. The runes are static, there is no green hue and the image is gone. Your lips purse together as you back away slowly from the altar, moving towards the staircase, eager to leave the room. [[You climb down the staircase]] <<set $feldirtether to true>>

Drawn to the purple crystal you watch as your hand moves across the altar, settling on top of it. The crystal hums beneath your palm, the corners of the lead glass vibrating and digging into your hand as it tries to burrow into your hand, yet you can’t bring yourself to lift it. Instead you stare, transfixed, as the other crystals on the altar dull, their colour lost. Meanwhile, the crystal beneath your palm steadily grows brighter. //“Take it”// Your fingers flex around the crystal. //“TAKE IT”// A shudder wracks your frame as hunger like you’ve never experienced carves into you. A ravenous craving that claws at your fraying threads of control. Your nails dig into your stomach, pressing down against your scar, as if to suppress the hunger. But the ache remains. It continues to whisper in your ear. //"₮₳₭Ɇ ł₮"// <fieldset>\ [[• Take the crystal]] [[• Refuse to take the purple crystal]] </fieldset>\

“No!” You roar, slamming your hand down, forcibly pushing the purple crystal further into the altar. There is a loud click and the room shakes, your body falling forward as the ground shifts beneath you. Sprawled across the top of the altar, you watch as the ground in front of it splits open. Stone grinds against stone as slowly a staircase is revealed, the stairs leading into a dark and narrow tunnel. The staircase disappears behind the altar as you step back, your mind racing as you try to process its sudden appearance. However, you are distracted by the crystals, or what were once the crystals. The crystals have disappeared, replaced by strange engravings. You frown, running your hand across the engravings, your fingertips dipping into the perfectly even and smooth grooves and dents that make up the rune-like markings. You press your hand against the altar’s surface, throwing your weight behind it, yet it remains solid. The runes are unlike anything you’ve seen before. There are no recognisable symbols and you struggle to match it to any language you’ve studied before. While staring, the runes flicker, a purple hue settling around the edges of the engravings. You blink, bringing your hand to your eyes to rub them. Behind your eyelids you see a coin with a laughing fox on it. The fox is mid jump, its body twisting in the air above an outstretched hand. Your eyes fly open. The runes are static, there is no purple hue and the image is gone. Your lips purse together as you back away slowly from the altar, moving towards the staircase, eager to leave the room. [[You climb down the staircase]] <<set $ukmistether to true>>

While trying to make sense of everything, there is a loud click, and the room begins violently shaking. Your body falls forward as the ground shifts beneath you. Sprawled across the top of the altar, you watch as the ground in front of it splits open. Stone grinds against stone as slowly a staircase is revealed, the stairs leading into a dark and narrow tunnel. The staircase disappears behind the altar as you step back, your mind racing as you try to process its sudden appearance. //Was taking the crystal part of the test? Was the voice…// You run your hands over the altar, trying to find a hidden compartment or switch. Your hands brush past the remaining crystals and you notice that the crystals no longer glow. All colour has been drained away, and the white clouds within them have dissipated. Your hand lingers on one of the crystals, your fingertips tracing the small stress fractures on the surface. With great restraint, you pull yourself away from the altar, unable to find anything. You move towards the staircase, your feet feeling heavy as you leave the room. You purse your lips, //If I can’t get answers here, I will have to get them outside//, an expression of grim determination on your face. [[You climb down the staircase]]

Forcing your head off the ground, you are greeted by the sight of a man sitting back on his haunches just a few feet away. He sits in front of a small military-grade helicopter; smaller because it focuses on carrying smaller squadrons and prioritising stealth. The doors are open, and if you squint, you can make out an open box of beer on one of the seats. The man tilts his beer towards you, “Congratulations $surname, you’ve passed.” He laughs, the pink scar tissue around his mouth pulling as he throws his head back. The scar is one of many on his face. However, the scar around his mouth is the most eye-catching. It looks like a claw took a chunk of flesh from his cheek and chin, the skin tight and pink. The smaller ones are white and barely visible. Scattered around his nose bridge and cheeks. Shrapnel perhaps? If he is uncomfortable with your staring, he says nothing, his grey eyes watching you while he sips from his beer. He has long, red hair with streaks of grey in the front, and it is held back by a black cap that matches his grey and black camo fatigues. He has a headset hanging loosely around his neck and aviators perched precariously at the edge of his nose. “Want a beer?” <fieldset>\ [[• Give him a thumbs up, too tired to speak]] [[• “I need more than one,” You groan]] [[• “No, I don’t drink,” You decline politely]] [[• Shake your head, too tired to speak]] [[• “I want answers,” You demand]] </fieldset>\

You roll over, resting on your back, and stare up at the early evening sky. Light pink bleeds into purple above you - the curtain of night yet to creep past the mountain horizon. The tunnel seemed to have led you to a plateau. The wind was stronger higher up than it ever was on the ground. It tugs at your clothes and playfully tosses red sand over you. Raising your arm, you send a shaky thumbs up to the man, dropping your arm quickly once your message is sent. Fatigue settles deep within your bones. The events of the cave hit you all at once. “Rest up,” Cold glass is pressed against your cheek, the beer bottle’s chill welcomed. “We still have some time until the final group enters and the test ends. I won’t be answering any questions until everyone arrives. I don’t fancy repeating myself.” With a groan, you sit up, taking the beer from the man with a grateful nod. Sitting up, you can see over the edge of the plateau. Craning your neck, you see an endless expanse of land stretched out before you, but no tents. //Am I on the other side of the mountain?// You wonder, straining your eyes to try to pick out further details. Some time passes before you give up, unable to find any familiar landmarks, convinced that you journeyed to the other side. Looking towards the man, you see him slumped against the helicopter, his cap pulled over his eyes and hands resting on his stomach. His legs are sprawled out in front, and his beer sits next to him, within arm's reach. You resign yourself to waiting and shuffle towards the nearest wall, slumping against it. The quiet howl of the wind and the faint scratching of insects and bugs were the only sounds to be heard. [[In the last twenty minutes, the final people slowly arrive]]

“I need more than one,” You groan as you force yourself to sit up, your muscles protesting the action. The events of the cave hit you all at once. A low chuckle is your answer, followed by the sound of feet shuffling towards you. A cold glass bottle is pressed into your hands, “The best I can do is one. Gotta make sure we have for others.” “If there are others…” You reply, thinking about how three hundred and sixty students failed before you even entered the cave. You bring the beer to your lips and take a long pull, a pensive expression on your face. The man smacks his lips together as he peers down at you, his beer in hand. “You can drink the others if no one else shows up, deal?” He grins, and you notice his jaw is slightly crooked. “Deal.” The two of you raise your beers in a silent toast. Looking up, you stare out at the early evening sky. Light pink bleeds into purple above you - the curtain of night yet to creep past the mountain horizon. The tunnel seemed to have led you to a plateau. The wind was stronger higher up than it ever was on the ground. Craning your neck, you peer over the edge of the plateau. You see an endless expanse of land stretched out before you, but no tents. //Am I on the other side of the mountain?// You wonder, straining your eyes to try to pick out further details. Some time passes before you give up, unable to find any familiar landmarks, convinced that you journeyed to the other side. Looking towards the man, you see him slumped against the helicopter, his cap pulled over his eyes and hands resting on his stomach. His legs are sprawled out in front, and his beer sits next to him, within arm's reach. You resign yourself to waiting and shuffle towards the nearest wall, slumping against it. The quiet howl of the wind and the faint scratching of insects and bugs were the only sounds to be heard. [[In the last twenty minutes, the final people slowly arrive]]

Slowly you sit up, your muscles protesting the action. With a grimace on your face you reply, “No, I don’t drink.” Your tone is polite even as you struggle to sit up. “Your loss,” The man shrugs, “More for the others.” You purse your lips at his comment, skeptical that anyone would be joining you. Before you entered the cave, three hundred and sixty students failed. The soulforge order would be lucky if one other person joined you. Looking around, you take in the early evening sky. Light pink bleeds into purple above you - the curtain of night yet to creep past the mountain horizon. The tunnel seemed to have led you to a plateau. The wind was stronger higher up than it ever was on the ground. Craning your neck, you peer over the edge of the plateau. You see an endless expanse of land stretched out before you, but no tents. //Am I on the other side of the mountain?// You wonder, straining your eyes to try to pick out further details. “What happens next?” You ask, turning to face the man. You see him slumped against the helicopter, his cap pulled over his eyes and hands resting on his stomach. His legs are sprawled out in front, and his beer sits next to him, within arm's reach. “We wait. I’ll explain once everyone is here.” Seeing that you aren’t going to get any information you sigh, resigning yourself to waiting. The quiet howl of the wind and the faint scratching of insects and bugs were the only sounds to be heard. [[In the last twenty minutes, the final people slowly arrive]]

You roll over, resting on your back, and stare up at the early evening sky. Light pink bleeds into purple above you - the curtain of night yet to creep past the mountain horizon. The tunnel seemed to have led you to a plateau. The wind was stronger higher up than it ever was on the ground. It tugs at your clothes and playfully tosses red sand over you. You shake your head, declining the man’s offer. Fatigue settles deep within your bones. The events of the cave hit you all at once. Your limbs are sprawled out, small pebbles and stones digging into the small of your back. “Suit yourself! Just means more for the others,” The man chuckles to himself. A comfortable silence settles between you. The man slumps against the helicopter, his cap pulled over his eyes and hands resting on his stomach. His legs are sprawled out in front, and his beer sits next to him, within arm's reach. Seemingly content to wait on others to show before sharing anything. //If there are others//, You think, your lips pursed. Sitting up, ignoring your protesting muscles, you shuffle closer to the edge of the plateau. Craning your neck, you peer over the edge of the plateau. You see an endless expanse of land stretched out before you, but no tents. //Am I on the other side of the mountain?// You wonder, straining your eyes to try to pick out further details. Some time passes before you give up, unable to find any familiar landmarks, convinced that you journeyed to the other side. Resigning yourself to waiting, you lay back down. [[In the last twenty minutes, the final people slowly arrive]]

“What I want are answers,” You demand, frustration clear. You struggle to push yourself into an upright position, your muscles protesting the action. The man watches you with a bemused expression, sipping from his beer. “Answers, huh?” He replies, his head cocked in contemplation. “What was that last room? Was it technology that made me see all those weird things? Why did-” Question after question leaves your mouth in a rush, spewing out as fast as you could think. The man holds a hand up, the cold glint in his eye stopping you from speaking further. “I don’t have the answer to those questions.” Before you can protest he continues, “I’m simply the transportation. I wait here to shepherd those who pass the test to the base. You’ll have to wait for Sergeant Rothman to get those answers.” You eye him with a frown, “So what? We just wait?” The man grins, “Yup,” he pops the ‘p’. With a huff you turn away, glaring out at the landscape ahead. The tunnel seemed to have led you to a plateau. You see an endless expanse of land stretched out before you, but no tents. //Am I on the other side of the mountain?// You wonder, straining your eyes to try to pick out further details. While searching the landscape, the man has made himself comfortable. He is slumped against the helicopter, his cap pulled over his eyes and hands resting on his stomach. His legs are sprawled out in front, and his beer sits next to him, within arm's reach. You resign yourself to waiting and shuffle towards the nearest wall, slumping against it. The quiet howl of the wind and the faint scratching of insects and bugs were the only sounds to be heard. [[In the last twenty minutes, the final people slowly arrive]]

“$name $surname, Theodore Gumede, Mei-Ling Wu and Chih-Cheng Wu,” The man says your names with a crooked smile, “Welcome to the Soulforge Order.” Nico stands with his chest puffed out, a look of pride on his face, a direct contrast to Theo’s more timid demeanour. The taller man’s face was apprehensive. “My name’s Greyson and I will be taking you to your new home. If you have any questions, save them for Sergeant Rothman. I’m just a glorified taxi,” He laughs at his own joke while pushing his sunglasses up, hiding his mischievous grey eyes behind the aviators. “What about our stuff, Sir?” Nico questions, his eyebrows furrowing. Greyson waves his concerns away, “Sergeant Rothman will have someone collect your bags and send them to base. Don’t worry your pretty little heads.” You see a muscle in Nico’s jaw jump as he actively fights back a retort. He claps his hands together, “Let's get moving! I’m sure the commander can’t wait to see his latest batch of recruits.” At his words you all move towards the helicopter, strapping in and bracing yourselves for takeoff. If Nico and Astrid are nervous, they don’t show it. Both sitting with perfect posture in their seats. Astrid staring out the window with a blank expression, her clothes covered in red dust and a small cut on her forehead. Nico has his arms crossed and his eyes are closed as he leans back, he appears to be meditating. His hair is tousled and his left pants leg is almost completely gone. The two look to have struggled through the cave, perhaps having a similar experience to your own. Theo was the only person who came out of the cave relatively unscathed. He had no visible injuries and there was minimal dirt on his fatigues. You all sit in silence, looking towards the horizon where your new home lies. [[End of Demo]] <<if $haveMetTheo is false>><<set $haveMetTheo to true>><</if>> <<if $haveMetTheo is true>><<notify 3s 'inventory-update'>>Character Profile Updated - Theo added<</notify>><</if>>\

Thank you for playing! If you want to learn more about the game or keep up to date with my progress then please follow me on tumblr or join The Soulforge Order discord. Tumblr: https://thesoulforgeorder.tumblr.com Discord: https://discord.gg/pbnHnMYz