Springs Eternal

CHAPTER 1. WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The sun has all but set. There is mist, dense and white, swirling in the fields beyond the lopsided wicker fence that marks the village border. And as the shepherd brings the goats and cows home, it looks like he is wading through the same warm milk that has made their udders heavy over the day of grazing. The cattle's owners are mostly human women, with an occasional talking, sarafan-clad she-cat, or she-wolf, or she-fox: some of the many different beastfolk that ventured out from their grand city of Zvergrad and wound up living among the "furless ones", where they are treated as respectable neighbors. As capable of reasonable thought and good manners and kind deeds as any human (sometimes more so). Here, they are all Guests, or descendants of Guests: which is what the people of Rodina call all those who are not originally from this kingdom. The women, Guests and otherwise, have all gathered by the fence, to wait for their Zorkas and Mashkas to come home. Resting their arms on top of it— large arms, broad from hard work in the farmyards, and good for both hugs and scooping off unruly children and wandering chickens — they gaze out into the milky waves that lap against the hazy lilac horizon. This is their chance to give their feet, so busy throughout the day, a little rest. So they chatter idly until they hear the familiar mooing and bleating and clamoring of the bells, which is their cue to part from the crowd and pick up their four-legged charges from the herd. At one point, however, the ones who are still waiting have to step aside, making way for a man. Lean, with sharp angles all over, from his jutting cheekbones to the corners of his jaw to the shadows cast by his collarbones, he is dressed in a long, loose flaxen blouse, tucked carelessly into the patchwork breeches that hug his gangly, grasshopper-like legs. The women bend their sturdy backs in a respectful bow as he passes, and exchange a few hushed whispers of approval. Which makes the man's ears flush a flustered crimson through his greying black hair. It always does. And yet the villagers still keep doing it. And always will. This man, instantly recognizable by his long nose and long limbs and long pale fingers, is Simeon. One of the most highly respected people in the village (much as that flusters him). He was born with a current of sila — magic — flowing through his veins. Most people with sila would vie for power at the royal court in Svetloyar, the far-off capital of Rodina. Try become ferocious warlords or cunning politicians. But not Simeon. He has stayed in this little village, lost among the fragrant wild meadows. All his life, he has been casting his spells to help his neighbors. To fuse cracks in broken bones; to breathe life into wilting gourd stalks; to slow down time just a fraction so that the midwife can bring a new babe into the world with patient, measured care. Pity he was away helping put out the fire at the smithy, when the rickety old bridge over the stream snapped, and his wife fell into the water. He could have slowed those rapids before she was pulled under. Such a pity. [[Next->Ch1 P2]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} There is a new bridge in that spot, just outside the village fence, where the stream cuts into the meadows and makes a gleaming, dark-lead curve. It is broad and sturdy. Nothing like the moss-covered, rotting planks that used to span the rolling waters. It is there that Simeon hurries, in long-legged strides, with the warm evening breeze washing over his face; filling his hair, now tousled by his brisk pace, with a heady floral scent. He does not care for any of that, though; not like he usually does. He keeps pushing forward, past the waiting women, through the confused, bleating herd. He barely even acknowledges the fact that the shepherd has placed two fingers at the rim of his broad, slightly sagging hat in greeting. Until finally, he is there. At the bend in the stream, near the bridge. Where in the tall grass, a small girl sits, absentmindedly picking at a wilted flower in her hands and staring at the water. "Mila!" Simeon calls to her, nearly stumbling when he spots her. His eyebrows arch over his widened, dark-blue eyes, and his thin lips twist into a brief grimace of pain. "I have been looking all over for you!" The girl looks up at him. She does not share the blood of her father, or of her late mother. Her hazel eyes, her round freckled face, her reddish-chestnut hair: everything about her is very much unlike Simeon. The only thing they appear to have in common, as far as looks go, is how deep their eyes sit. Haggard, encricled in a bruised shadow. Apparently, neither of them has been getting enough sleep. "I am sorry, papa," Mila says, in a small, hoarse voice (nonetheless not getting up). "I keep having these dreams... Of coming to the bridge. Of looking deep, deep in there." She nods at the stream. 'I don't think I really want to, though. This is where mama died, isn't it?" The pained look returns to Simeon's face, and lingers. "Yes," he breathes out quietly, lowering himself into the grass next to her. "You were too small to remember, but —" With one arm around Mila's round little shoulders, he glances up at the sky. The mist has melted away into the twilight by now, and the soft lilac overhead has deepened into a rich purple. The moons have come out, too, making specks of glitter dance over the water. [[Next->Ch1 P3]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} All three of them are out tonight. One full, the other two melted into thin crescents, overlapping with one another so that they almost appear to be a single body. A large amethyst orb, with a curved stroke of silver, and then pearly white along its left side. Rodina's tradition refers to the three moons — amethyst, silver, and white — as the Sestritsy. The sun's three younger sisters. Children like Mila hear stories about how the Sestritsy live far beyond Rodina, and the rest of the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, somewhere at the edges of the farthest sea. Each moon, the stories say, has her own glimmering palace, where she welcomes weary souls to the afterlife. One palace is built of amethyst, one of silver, and one of mother-of-pearl. Adults, scholars and wayfarers, farmers and clerks — while they still venerate the moons and their golden brother, leaving the offerings at the temple whenever they can — also have stories of their own. More grounded in everyday life. Stories about how you can watch the waxing and waning of the moons to chart calendars... and mark the ebb and flow of sila. "The Sestritsy were in the exact same position that night," he murmurs, the liquid glow of the moons dancing in his eyes. "Maybe... Maybe that's what's causing your dreams..." "Ah. Clever as always, Simeon." Suddenly, the rapids' constant rushing noise stops. As if someone had clapped an unseen hand over the stream's babbling mouth. The water, already dark in the dusk, condenses to pure tar, swallowing up the specks of reflected moonlight. And out of that tar, which gurgles and swells into black bubbles, a figure rises. A woman, pale as gnawed-down, sun-bleached bone; with long hair plastered all oved her back, and shoulders, and bared chest. Once blonde, it is now tinged a swampy shade of green; and its ends tangle and blend with the soggy, rotten threads of underwater grass, which cling to the woman's sunken stomach and jutting hip bones like a tattered skirt. Slowly, in broken motions, she straightens up and stares ahead. At Simeon, who has turned nearly as pallid as her, brow creased and jaw hardened; and at Mila, who has buried her face in Simeon's chest with a tiny squeak. "It has been years since the Sestritsy have last shone like this," she goes on. Her voice is garbled in her throat, splitting into half a dozen echoes, deep and rumbling, and shrill all at once. "Since you are obviously unfit to have a family — how could you be, when you let me die! — I have come back for our daughter. A child's place is with their mother." "No!" Simeon splutters, clutching Mila closer until his knuckles turn white. The corners of his lips are sagging down, and the crease between his eyebrows has turned deep like a knife cut. The woman's words have burrowed under his skin. Painfully. "No?" the woman echoes, tilting her head at an inhumanly sharp angle with a splitting crackle. "Why not? Why not let me have her? Why not let the water take her? You won't even care to watch. You never came to watch when the water took me..." "No, Lyubava, this isn't you!" Simeon screams, over and over again, wrapping his whole being around Mila. "This isn't you! And I... I did care! I came running as soon as I could! I... I buried you! The whole village searched for your body, and we found it downstream! I — I buried you! So this can't... can't be..." "Can it?" she leers... And lunges forward. [[Next->Ch1 P4]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Mila has chosen her spot in the grass close to the water's edge. Far too close. Lyubava's fingers close around the girl's ankle; she tugs at her with enough force to rip her out of Simeon's embrace. Mila shrieks, digging her nails desperately into the soil, grasping at green grass tufts, which do nothing but slip out of her grasp, slicing at her fingers; or remain stuck to her sweaty palms, uprooted. Lyubava laughs, mouth stretching wide, too wide, her teeth sharp as a fish's, tinted with something dark. Maybe silt, or maybe blood. "Mila!" Simeon soars to his feet. His eyes have grown a few shades lighter, and then a few more, and his whites and pupils have vanished. Nothing remains but a searing glow, blue at first, paler and paler, till it burns the purest white, and spills out of his eyes in trails of smoke. His sila surges and crackles, filling his veins till they protrude, pulsing, through his skin. He throws his arm forward, and a crescent—shaped flash of light — the same blinding white as the fire and smoke in his eyes — leaps off his forearm, slicing through the air like a scythe through grass. In an instant, it reaches Lyubava — or the creature that was once Lyubava — and passes right through her clammy flesh, making a deep cut that starts oozing the same sickly dark substance that stains her teeth. With its job done, the shining crescent dissolves in the night. The creature's twitching fingers release Mila's ankle, and the arm that was pulling at Mila drops into the creature's side, looking limp and brittle as a wilted reed. The creature herself wheezes, perhaps more in helpless rage than in pain. She attempts another grasp at the girl with her uninjured hand, but is met with a volley of light bolts, like shooting stars bursting from Simeon's fingertips. With a farewell snap of her fish teeth, she lowers herself back into the water. The heavy tar swirls around the place where she dove in, a few times — but eventually dissipates. And the night air fills with the rush of the stream again. Exhaling shakily, Simeon sinks to his knees in the grass. His forehead is glistening with exertion, and a droplet of sweat is dangling off his long nose. Mila scoots over and presses, kitten-like, against his arm. "Mama wasn't this mean in life, was she?" she whispers; and Simeon shakes his head. "She was protective of you, yes — but not... Not like that." His throat contracts, as if he finds it hard to swallow. "That wasn't really her, sweetie. It was a rusalka; a dark spirit woven from the memories of how she drowned. I guess I have to tell Elder Bogdan that the stream has been... tainted. So that no—one comes to swim or wash their clothes under the bridge." "You are so brave and kind, papa," Mila says. "I try to be, for your sake," Simeon responds, with a soft smile that does not quite reach his eyes. Neither of them has yet noticed that a dark, green—tinged bruise has formed on Mila's ankle, where the rusalka touched her. [[Next->Ch1 P5]]

CHAPTER 2. TO THE PALACE {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The cart rolls forth at an unhurried pace, one creaky inch at a time. It is loaded to the brim with all kinds of household odds and ends, from polished saucepans that flare blindingly in the midday sun, to bristling rooms and bright, heavy rolls of quilted blankets. Clinging on to this wobbly pile of clutter, is a large family. The head of the family, in a (either: "dainty", "patched—up", "well—sewn") (either: "floral", "scarlet", "green", "white", "maroon") tunic, has perched (either: "himself", "herself", "themself") in the front of the cart, pulling at the reins of the huge, wooly—legged horse. The spouse, in a (either: "baggy", "padded", "carefully ironed") shirt and a (either: "conical", "droopy", "slightly crumpled") hat, is sitting at the back, keeping (either: "her", "his", "their") eye on the clutter mound, to make sure that nothing breaks or topples. And their many, many children, one tinier than the next, are clambering all over the place: dangling their legs over the dusty road, or ducking into the depths of the clutter pile in search of a forgotten ragdoll, or starting play fights until they almost fall off and one of their parents has to pull them back. Sometimes, as they tussle with one another and explore the cart, you get a little bit in their way — so they clamber across your lap, and their parents cry fretfully, "(either: "Alyosha", "Kostik", "Manya", "Petya")! Stop bothering the nice traveler. Also — [[Tell her you are sorry!"->Pronouns F]] [[Tell him you are sorry!"->Pronouns M]] [[Tell them you are sorry!"->Pronouns NB]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $PronounNom to "she") (set: $PronounGen to "her") (set: $PronounPos to "her") (set: $PronounVerbPresent to "is") (set: $PronounVerbPast to "was") (set: $InnKeeperAddress to "lady") The child usually mumbles something incoherent, in too much in a hurry to continue their mischief. And you accept their "apology"... [[With an indulgent smile->Likes Kids]] [[With barely contained annoyance->Dislikes Kids]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $PronounNom to "he") (set: $PronounGen to "him") (set: $PronounPos to "his") (set: $PronounVerbPresent to "is") (set: $PronounVerbPast to "was") (set: $InnKeeperAddress to "gentleman") The child usually mumbles something incoherent, in too much in a hurry to continue their mischief. And you accept their "apology"... [[With an indulgent smile->Likes Kids]] [[With barely contained annoyance->Dislikes Kids]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $PronounNom to "they") (set: $PronounGen to "them") (set: $PronounPos to "their") (set: $PronounVerbPresent to "are") (set: $PronounVerbPast to "were") (set: $InnKeeperAddress to "individual") The child usually mumbles something incoherent, in too much in a hurry to continue their mischief. And you accept their "apology"... [[With an indulgent smile->Likes Kids]] [[With barely contained annoyance->Dislikes Kids]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $LikesKids to true) You have always had a soft spot for children. The innocent joy that colors this part of a person's life is so bittersweet to remember, and adorable to watch. And these chattering little bundles of energy have grown on you really fast. You might end up missing them when your cart ride ends. [[Next->Beast Family Reveal]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $LikesKids to false) You never had much patience for children. They are loud, messy, and altogether exhausting to be around. This screeching bunch in particular. But you also know that it is not their fault, and that some day, they will grow into adults, hopefully as genial as their parents. So all you can do is wait until the cart ride ends. [[Next->Beast Family Reveal]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} All in all, your companions are a family like any other. On their way to move into Svetloyar. Maybe they want to earn themselves some coins (lunkas, the common folk call them, little moons — because they bear the image of the three Sestritsy on the reverse side), by starting an artisan workshop in one of the many slobodas, craftspeople's districts. As you were all settling into the cart, you spotted traces of clay, caked deep into the hands of the head of the family. And the belongings that the helpful spouse guards the most vigilantly of all seem to be an assortment of colorful pots with swirly patterns. Yes, they are a family like any other. And they also happen to be (either: "foxes", "cats", "squirrels", "stoats"). With sharp, clever faces and sleek (either: "black", "gray", "brown", "red") fur; ears standing upright through the special slits in their headwear; and bushy tails peeking from under their clothes. And you, the wandering stranger that has asked for a lift on their noisy, laden cart, are... [[A beast person, just like them.->Beastfolk Backstory]] [[A human, someone they'd call a "furless one". ->Human Backstory]] [[Neither human nor beast person: if anything, you'd say you resemble a talking tree.->Dryad Backstory]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Race to "Beastfolk") Like your travelling companions, you have fur and claws and a tail. And yet you also possess thoughts and emotions that set you apart from the four—legged forest critters that may, perhaps, have a passing resemblance to you and your kin. They say that thousands of years ago, a stream of shooting stars rained down upon the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms. Bright blue stars: shards of purest sila. And whenever they fell, hitting the ground and letting their power spill all around in sizzling, glowing waves, certain animals suddenly stood upright on two legs and gained the power of reason. Eventually, such star—touched beastfolk banded together, building their own bustling city states. There is at least one neighboring upon almost every Kingdom. The one near Rodina is called Zvergrad. Beastfolk are not confined to their cities, however. Many of them mingle with humans far beyond Zvergrad. Including your family. They have settled in the small town of Bulochkin, named so for its famous pastries — much beloved both by the humans of Rodina and the lead—skinned, white—haired, pointy—eared Alfr from another nearby Kingdom, Alfrland. Bulochkin is in the west of Rodina, much closer to the human capital, Svetloyar, than to Zvergrad. So it is to Svetloyar that you are headed, with some very urgent news for the human Princess. It's a good thing that the potter family agreed to take you along. Slow as their cart is, getting there on foot would have been even slower. [[Next->Face Beast Options]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Race to "Human") These friendly potters may chuckle at your lack of proper fur and wonder to themselves how on earth you manage to stay warm (maybe even wrap you in a couple of downy shawls, just in case, regardless of weather). But well. Here you are. A human. Your kin have settled this land far and wide, founding most of the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, each vastly different than the next. You are a native of Rodina. Born and raised on a sleepy, out—of—the way farmstead to the west, not far from the border of Rodina and another one of the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, Alfrland: home of the lead-skinned, white-haired, pointy-eared Alfr. Your farmstead nestles amid rippling golden fields of wheat — which have given it its name, Zolotoye — and cloud—like white and pink orchards. It's a lovely place to call home, and you've never ventured far beyond it, except for a market fair... Until now. Now, you are further from your farm than you have ever been. Your destination is the capital, Svetloyar; and you have some very urgent news for your Princess. It's a good thing that the potter family agreed to take you along. Slow as their cart is, getting there on foot would have been even slower. [[Next->Face Options Human]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Race to "Dryad") You can tell from the wide-eyed looks that the little children give you — even as their parents scold them, (either: "Dusya", "Aglasha", "Fedya")! (either: "Anya!", "Pasha", "Vasya")! (either: "Vova", "Tosya", "Tishko")! It is rude to stare!" — that someone like you is a rare sight in these parts. No wonder. Your kin, dryads — humanlike, in a way, yet with bark—like skin, sometimes with patches of moss, and curly green stalks for hair — are reclusive. They prefer the dappled cool shade of the woodlands to the blaring sun and dust of the open road. Dryads live in clans all across the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms: as diverse as the trees that grow there. Each clan tends to favour a particular forest, protecting it in exchange for the shelter it provides. The clan that you belong to is known as the Listvichi to the few locals who have heard of it. Notable for the dark crosswise stripes on their bark, your family members watch over a vast birch grove that stretches in the west of Rodina, marking its border with Alfrland, another kingdom, whose people have pointy ears, white hair and skin the color of lead. You and your clan make sure that any humans or beastfolk or Alfr, or other strangers of all shapes and sizes that venture under the grove's light-green, sun-kissed canopy, do not bear ill intent, and only take from the birches what they need. Some sap for drinking, some old bark for scrolls, some branches for the sauna. No more than that. The elders of your clan, with gnarly faces and nearly barren hair crowns, tell stories about punishing intruders that sought to abuse the grove, but nothing like that has happened in your memory. It has been an orderly, calm existence. Up until now. The time has come to step out of the trees' protective shadow. And to travel to what you believe is the local humans' main city, Svetloyar. With some very urgent news for the human Princess. It's a good thing that the potter family agreed to take you along. Slow as their cart is, getting there on foot would have been even slower. [[Next->Face Options Dryad]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You gaze ahead, lost in thought, trying to figure out how long you yet have to travel before you arrive in Svetloyar... When something shifts underneath the clutter nearest to you. The corner of what looks like a table cloth bulges and wiggles. And, sneezing and muttering, out comes the tiniest old man, no bigger than the palm of your hand. He is wearing a long coat, cut from a slightly fraying snatch of bright blue fabric. His face is almost completely obscured by a mop of long, shaggy hair, as red as the fur of the potter family, and an equally shaggy beard: the only things that peek out are the tips of his pointy ears and large, bulbous nose. His eyes, too, glint somewhere in the shadow of his hair mop and triangular eyebrows. They are amber—yellow, with vertical slit pupils, like a snake's. (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You do not recognize this creature, but you can sense an intangible bond tying it to all these household objects. Much like the bond between your clan and the grove. Perhaps he is some kind of hearth spirit. A guardian of the potter family.] (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You realize that this little man is a domovik: the hearth spirit of the potter family. There is one just like him living inside the chimney of your house — well, not just like him; his beard matches your grandfather's, and your own, $Fur $FurColor fur. He always keeps himself busy: making sure that all the door hinges work smoothly, or inspecting the pantry to make sure it stays full at all times. Or sweeping and scrubbing the floors when the family is too tired to do chores... And occasionally turning into a snake to bite an unwelcome guest. Or smashing a vase or two when the family members fight and forget to apologize to one another — which is what upsets him the most. This domovik must have come along with the potter family on their move, to protect their new house in the capital.] (if:$Race is "Human")[You realize that this little man is a domovik: a hearth spirit. There is one just like him — well, not just like him; his beard matches the $HairTexture $HairColor hair most common in your family — living at your farmstead. He helps out with cleaning and cooking, and especially likes to hang around the barn, where he brushes the coats of the cows and horses and comforts them if they get startled by some sudden noise in the night... Or on the contrary, places burrs on their necks and backs if someone in the family displeases him by being rude to him, or each other. Once, someone tried to steal your apples, and your domovik turned into a snake and chased them off, coiling and hissing. All the other human families that you know have hearth guardians of their own. It stands to reason that the Beastfolk would have them living in their houses too. This domovik must have come along with the potter family on their move, to protect their new house in the capital. ] [[Next->Whats Your Name]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The little man regards you for a few moments with his snake—like eyes, not blinking all the while. "Long journey, isn't it?" he asks, in a voice that sounds like the creak of old floorboards. He addresses you by your name. You did introduce yourself to the potter family when asking for a ride, but you are not quite sure if he overhead it, or just... knows. Either way, your name is... (input-box:2bind $Name,"=XX=","Erase this text and enter your name") [[Next->Water Backstory]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Quite a long journey, young $Name". "Well, uh, not really," you point out, peering down at the little man in quite a bit of confusion. It can't count as that long, can it? It's barely a day's ride one way. And thank the moons for that! Your news for the Princess is really something that she must learn about as quickly as possible. It has to do with the kingdom's most precious, most vital resource... Water. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Your grandfather owns a watermill that supplies Bulochkin's renowned bakeries with fine, soft flour. Never has he ever had any major snags in his work, or any complaints, not even about fur accidentally getting into the flour... Until the other day, when the mill wheel began screeching and lagging, and he went down to investigate, grousing into his whiskers... And found something in the water. Something quite unlike any silt or mold or the usual muck you would expect in a river that passes through a town. It was like tar, dark and viscous — but with no smell. And when your grandfather lowered a pole to knead the water, trying to get that long, undulating stain to hurry up and float off downstream, the streaks of darkness raced up the pole, like black veins. Until they hit your grandfather's hand. He yelped in pain when that happened, and dropped the pole — which was swallowed up by the water with nary a splash. The darkness bleached his fur of all color where she touched him, and he has had trouble using that hand ever since]. (if:$Race is "Human")[Just the other day, some of your family's farmhands — good friends of yours — came running, dripping with sweat and crying something incoherent, from the cows' watering hole. As they dragged you with them to investigate, you were met with the pained moos of one of your cows, the precious Buryonka. One of her front legs, perfectly healthy just that morning, now seemed much fewer than the others, bending heavily with every step Buryonka attempted to take. Its hoof and coat of fur, up to the knee, had turned from glossy brown to an odd greyish—white, as if drained of all color. "She had just stepped in there to drink!" one of the farmhands cried, pointing at the water. Which had turned... different. Stagnant, but not in the usual way; not like water gets after a long, hot summer, filling with squelchy green slime. No, it was dark now, as pitch, and the grass along the watering hole's edges had wilted, as colorless as Buryonka's leg.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[A short while ago, you were accompanying an elder from your clan on a daily walk through the grove. Learning the ways of the forest. Deciphering the looping threads of the animal tracks. Watching the woodland flowers unfold their petals, reaching towards the sun. Ensuring that every part of the forest was healthy and hearty and well in its place. ...Until it wasn't. On your rounds, you came across a patch of ground where there was... nothing. No moss, no grass, not even a bare layer of raw, black, life—giving soil. Instead, where was a large, elongated plaque of rock—hard, bone—white substance, like dust caked solid. At either end of this plaque, grass was wilting, brown and limp with rot; and the stream of water that ran across it, cutting it in two, was dense and so dark that it did not reflect any sunlight. This used to be a regular stream once, you were certain; something had polluted it — something that not even the most aggressive intruders in the grove would be capable of. As you and your elder leaned over the darkened water, frozen in shock, a deer came prancing by. Not one of the Beastfolk, with language and reason: a regular deer. With very little reason at all, apparently, as (perhaps out of habit, from coming here before) it dipped its head towards the stream, preparing to drink. "No, shoo! That's poison!" your elder cried, waving their branch—like arms with as much rustling as possible, to scare the deer off. That worked, and the deer stared at you for a moment before bounding off into the thicket. But the elder's foot — bare and covered in harmless, root—like growths, which wrap around the dryads' lower limbs with age — slipped on the white ground, and, with a nearly inaudible "Plonk!", submerged in the water. They yanked their foot out, of course; but it emerged brittle like dead wood, sucked dry of all the warm colors of bark and earth and moss. They have been limping ever since.] Troubled by that discovery, your family sent one of its youngest, nimblest members — you — to report it to the Princess. Personally. And here you are. [[Next->Music Offer]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your journey to Svetloyar will soon be done — and yet this little man seems to think otherwise. "Ah!" he says, shaking his mop—like head. "You think so now, young $Name: you think that your journey won't be long... But just you wait!" You respond with a long, long blink. Someone certainly likes talking in riddles... The little man chuckles at your ever-growing confusion. "Don't trouble yourself with that now. Trouble is yet to come!" (You certainly hope not! That is the whole point of you leaving home!) "For now, let's do something to fill the silence of the road." In an abrupt motion, the little man raises his sharp—elbowed little arm and digs deep into his beard, with a curious assortment of clamoring and crashing noises. As if there were a second mountain of clutter concealed in there. Finally, he fishes out a triangular string instrument — a balalaika, as tiny as he is — rests it against his small round tummy, and hovers his hand over it, preparing to strum the strings. His gaze, still unblinking, is yet to leave your face. He is clearly waiting for you to react. [[Firmly refuse to listen to his music->No Music]] [[Let him play his music by remaining politely silent->Eh Music]] [[Show vocal enthusiasm for his music->Yes Music]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $KickedOff to true)(set: $Hungry to true)"Ugh, no!" you cry out, waving your hands at the little man, while a shudder runs down your spine at the very thought of the sounds he is going to produce on that wretched instrument. First cryptic, roundabout talk, and now this! There is a limit to your patience! "Not balalaika music! Anything but that!" "So you say, young $Name. Very well," the little man knits his eyebrows and speaks with a particularly slow, gnawing sort of creak in his voice that indicates that things could not be further from being well. The potter's spouse gasps softly, and the mischievous children fall silent. And then, the little man stomps his foot. An unseen force hits you in the chest, knocking the wind out of you. The cart lurches somewhere out of your field of view; the sky flashes, bright and pale, before your eyes; and suddenly, you wind up with a grating mouthful of dust. By the time you spit it all out, the cart is long—gone, and so are your traveling companions. You are left stranded in the middle of the road, all on your own. Sitting square on your bottom, in a very undignified way. Looks like you will have to make the rest of the way to Svetloyar on foot. [[Next->Ch3 P1]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $KickedOff to false)(set: $GotComb to false) (set: $PotterAttitude to "Neutral")You are not exactly... thrilled by the prospect of hearing a string tune, but perhaps it is best not to anger the little man. You are a guest at his household, after all... Even if it is currently in the middle of the road. You give him a rather stiff nod and even manage to plaster a sort of a smile across your lips. His eyebrows twitch, like two small shrubs in the wind, as he makes a quick succession of little grimaces. Eventually, he seems to accept your silence as a "Yes", and hits the balalaika. The tune rings out over the road, loud and cheery, and then leaps to the cloudless blue sky. The children huddle around the little man, nodding their heads in tune, as does their parent at the back of the cart; while the potter up front looks at them over the shoulder, smiling. This may not be your most favorite type of music, but it does help pass the time. It is not long before the massive wooden gates of Svetloyar loom up ahead, crowned with the carved images of the sun and moons. [[Next->Ch3 P1]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $PotterAttitude to "Warm")You meet the little man's amber eyes with an open, genuine smile. He could not have thought of a better way to liven up this trip! "Are you going to play?" you ask, already bouncing your leg in anticipation. "Yes please!" The little man's beard seems to grow broader and fluffier — and is suddenly split by a smile to mirror yours. He does not have a lot of teeth, but the smile makes up for it in width. His tiny hand dances over the string, and soon, the air is filled with music. Its rapid rhythm beckons to dance, though you do not risk it — for fear of upheaving the cart. The children, however, are smaller and lighter on their feet, so they do not hesitate to bounce around the little man, resting their hands at their hips and kicking their feet. One of them even starts a breathlessly fast, upbeat little song that they probably made up on the spot, We are going on our way, To sell pots made out of clay, And if someone hates them all, They can shove them up their — The potter's spouse gasps at that point, hurrying to silence the little singer with a clap of the hand over their mouth, while the others squeal with laughter. The little man laughs as well, with that same floorboard creak, and sets his balalaika down to dive into his beard again. After some rummaging, as clamorous as before, he pulls out a long comb, which is somehow as tall as he is. "You have much running ahead of you, young $Name, after you get to the big city," he croaks, sizing you up with his glassy snake eyes again. "Here is a little something for you to use when the things you run from turn... Dark. Go on. Take it." There is something about his words that makes an uncomfortable feeling scrape at the inside of your chest. Now, much running you can get: Svetloyar is quite a city, encircling a tall green hill in several tiers, and you will need to climb to the very top to reach the Princess' palace. But... Running from dark things? Where did that come from, and how can a comb, of all things, help with that? Is it some sort of bizarre premonition, or just a load of nonsense — a prank, maybe, for the family's amusement? You frown, regarding the comb uncertainly. [[Reject the comb politely->No Comb Polite]] [[Reject the comb bluntly->No Comb Rude]] [[Accept the comb->Yes Comb]]

CHAPTER 3. MURAL DEEDS {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Up there, on the hill, which $Name is yet to reach, almost all the walls the royal palace — laid out of plaster-coated stone, and curving into vaults, like within a natural cavern — are covered in murals. In some rooms, the murals are abstract: curling ferns and ripe berries, scattered against a background of lush green or earthy brown. In others, they depict scenes from everyday life: fishing, tilling the fields, getting unruly cows or sheep inside the fence gate, or sometimes glugging down nearly person-sized goblets at a feast or going on a jolly hunt. There are also images of fantastical creatures, like serpents the size of trees, or whales that burrow into the sand or molten rock instead of diving into the sea, or leeches with human limbs. Some of them really do dwell in the crystal-encrusted caverns of Alfrland, or in the turquoise undersea trenches of Loz, or in the fiery bowels of Volcanica, or in the deepest, most tangled forest thickets of Rodina and Züdemark and other kingdoms. And some were borne out of the artists' imagination. It is hard to tell which are which at first glance. There are scenes from the life of the royal family, too, from the very first Princess of Svetloyar, the mighty warrior Usonsha, to her descendant of today. The murals also adorn this particular corridor, where a group of tiny children is trotting on in pairs, moving their tiny legs as fast as they can, and clasping their neighbors' tiny hands with a very serious look on their faces. A school class, here on tour: having a lesson like any other, unaware of the somber news that $Name is to bring under these very vaults. The column is flanked by the school master. He is not human, though Guest or not, it is impossible to say: his kind are very long-lived, and he could have easily come to Rodina several human lifetimes ago. His skin, pale in the shadow, and glittering like finest salt or sugar under the light of the lamps that line the corridor, is the hallmark of a Dayen. His people, originally from the Kingdom of the Isles — countless shards of earth floating high in the sky where the rainbows are born — are the cousins of the Alfr, and their inverted reflection. Pale where the Alfr are dark as lead; favoring the element of the sky where the Alfr explore the subterranean caves; with inky, pupilless eyes where the eyes of the Alfr (just as their hair) are white as milk. On top of it all, unlike the Alfr, the Dayen have wings, soaked in the colors of the rainbow; though the school master has tucked his away under his cloak. Long ago, when the humans from the Three Score and Nine Kingdoms first met these two races, they assumed that the Dayen, the children of the sky, were good, while their underground antipodes were evil. But that is far from the truth: there are as many good and evil people among the Alfr and the Dayen as among the humans, (if:$Race is "Human")[$Name's kin, ]or the Beastfolk,(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ $Name's kin,] or the reclusive dryads,(if:$Race is "Dryad")[ $Name's kin,] or anyone else. In fact, while the Dayen school master is watching over the children from the back of the column, the person guiding them from the front, in a gentle, soothing voice, is an Alfr. Or, well, half-Alfr. Her ears are much smaller than the school master's. And her eyes are human, with dark—brown irises and long black lashes, dense just as her eyebrows, which arch on her heart—shaped gray face like two broad strokes of ink, bridging over her nose. Her hair, gathered into many braids that cascade over the soft folds of her back, is also black. With just a single strand of white in front of her face, which she keeps brushing back absentmindedly as she points at the murals and answers the children's questions. [[Next->Ch3 P2]]

CHAPTER 4. GHOSTS AND THE CITY {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Ghost to "Willem")It feels like an eternity has passed, filled with nothing but dragging your sore, tired feet through the dense dust, and staring ahead into nothingness with bleary eyes. The sky overhead has gone from pale-blue to petal-pink to blaring orange, before drowning in ink. It is only then, in the dark, that you nearly ram into the gates of Svetloyar. Their silhouette, crowned with the carved images of the sun and the moons, almost entirely blends with the sky. As do the figures of the two guards, in rounded helmets with a sharp spike on top. One of them — the taller one; massively taller one — appears to be of the Beastfolk kin. Their eyes glint in the night like two gold coins, the way no human's eyes do. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[The Beastfolk have great night vision, and you and the guard can see each other quite well. You clearly make out the massive antler and long, broad nose of a moose. In their hand, the moose is holding a lantern — which burns pale-blue, meaning that it's powered by sila, not by kindling. That must be for the benefit of their much smaller partner, a (either: "rather underfed—looking", "portly", "square-built") human with a (either: "black", "blond", "ginger", "mousey") (either: "handlebar moustache", "fringe over his eyes", "pointy beard", "braid"), who has his hands full with a sword and a shield.] (if:$Race is "Human")[And true enough. They suddenly swing a lantern in front of your face — likely, for the benefit of their much smaller partner, a (either: "rather underfed-looking", "portly", "square-built") human with a (either: "black", "blond", "ginger", "mousey") (either: "handlebar moustache", "fringe over his eyes", "pointy beard", "braid"), who has his hands full with a sword and a shield. The Beastfolk have great night vision, and the bigger guard would not need a lantern for themself. The lantern splashes a bit of light over their form (pale-blue light, which means that the lantern is powered by sila, not kindling), and you manage to make out the massive antler and long, broad nose of a moose.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[And true enough. They suddenly swing a lantern in front of your face — likely, for the benefit of their much smaller partner, a (either: "rather underfed-looking", "portly", "square-built") human with a (either: "black", "blond", "ginger", "mousey") (either: "handlebar moustache", "fringe over his eyes", "pointy beard", "braid"), who has his hands full with a sword and a shield. The Beastfolk have great night vision, and the bigger guard would not need a lantern for themself. The lantern splashes a bit of light over their form (pale-blue light, which means that the lantern is powered by sila, not kindling), and you manage to make out the massive antler and long, broad nose of a moose.] "Who are you?" the moose guard booms. "Why are you skulking about at this hour, when all honest folk are asleep?" [[Next->Gate Guard Convo]]

CHAPTER 4. GHOSTS AND THE CITY {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Ghost to "Grusha")The potter family has arrived at their destination, and you with them. After a brief exchange with the guards that keep watch over the city gates — "What is your business in Svetloyar? Ah, yes, good; all in order" — the cart rolls through, and it is time for you to part ways. (if:$PotterAttitude is "Neutral")[Your farewells are a bit stiff and awkward, and the little balalaika player never emerges again. You are rather relieved when the cart swerves into the sloboda the potter family must have been looking for, and vanishes from view.] (if:$PotterAttitude is "Warm")[You share a warm farewell with the adult members of the family.(if:$LikesKids is true)[ And some of the children have to be pried off your legs as they wrap themselves around them in a hug.] The sweet, fond feeling still lingers, like the aftertaste of a honeyed treat, when the cart swerves into the sloboda the potter family must have been looking for, and vanishes from view. The little balalaika player has scaled the top of the clutter mountain, and does not stop looking at you, and waving, until you can no longer see one another. The wonders of sharing a journey and songs!] Your journey, in turn, will now take you to the very summit of the hill, high above all the city neighborhoods: motley and colorful like the patches on the potters' quilt. [[Next->Market]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $PotterAttitude to "Neutral")(set: $GotComb to false)(set: $KickedOff to false)"That is... Very thoughtful of you, but I don't think that would be much help," you say, clearing your throat. The little man narrows his snake eyes and grumbles wordlessly, before he withdraws under the tablecloth, balalaika and all. The children let out an Awww of disappointment when they realize there will not be any more music; and the rest of the ride passes in silence. You go back to watching the road, all those fields and meadows floating by. There is some lingering unease clinging to the walls of your stomach; but you try not to dwell on that. And at long last, you can exhale in relief when the massive wooden gates of Svetloyar loom up ahead, crowned with the carved images of the sun and moons. [[Next->Ch3 P1]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GotComb to false)(set: $KickedOff to true)(set: $Hungry to true)Unable to contain how baffled you are by the ridiculousness of the offer, you roll your eyes. "Seriously, a comb? That's what you think will help me against... what was that... Dark things? That doesn't make any sense! Keep it; by the looks of you, you will find more use for it anyway." The potter's spouse gasps softly, and the mischievous children fall silent. The tiny man knits his eyebrows together and stomps his foot. An unseen force hits you in the chest, knocking the wind out of you. The cart lurches somewhere out of your field of view; the sky flashes, bright and pale, before your eyes; and suddenly, you wind up with a grating mouthful of dust. By the time you spit it all out, the cart is long—gone, and so are your traveling companions. You are left stranded in the middle of the road, all on your own. Sitting square on your bottom, in a very undignified way. Looks like you will have to make the rest of the way to Svetloyar on foot. [[Next->Ch3 P1]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GotComb to true)(set: $KickedOff to false)You reach forward slowly and take the comb from the little man. It rests lightly in your palm, with nothing particularly extraordinary about it. It is carved out of some sort of dark wood, and the patterns running along its surface depict long, thorny plant tendrils. Peering closer, you realize that there are tiny human figures entangled among the thorns here and there, with their arms raised pitifully. In some places, the thorns are shown to have pierced their bodies — a chest here, a leg calf there, and even a throat, in the case of one unfortunate soul. The gashes made by the thorns are rendered very lovingly, in deep jagged lines, with droplets of blood raining down in long curving jets. Not... Not at all disturbing. You glance around, seeking someone who might explain what this means. But the little man has already snatched up his balalaika again and bounded to the other side of the cart, starting a new song with the potter, who is trying very hard to both sing along and watch the road. The potter's spouse, in turn, just shrugs when you display the comb with a questioning look on your face (it's a very cautious shrug, so as not to disturb the pots). "I really cannot say much, esteemed $Name. Domoviks do sometimes bring you odd gifts when they are pleased with you," the spouse notes, squinting at the twisting thorns and their writhing captives. "They always prove useful later, in really unexpected ways, too... (either: "Dusya!", "Grishko", "Tasha"), let go of your (either: "sister's", "brother's", "sibling's") tail!" Thus, the fretful parent's attention snaps back to the children, and you have nothing left to do but tuck the comb away into your travel clothes and let your mind float off along the waves of the song. It is slower now, sadder, something about a young he—wolf that recently got married and feels awkward because his wife's family is so tightly knit that he doesn't quite fit in. (if:$LikesKids is true)["It's okay," whispers one of the children, shifting closer to you. "Our parents were not like that. They just like this song because it makes their voices sound all pretty." And that is quite true. ]The head of the the potter family especially can hold the longest, clearest notes, and as you listen, time flies by in a heartbeat. It is not long before the massive wooden gates of Svetloyar loom up ahead, crowned with the carved images of the sun and moons. [[Next->Ch3 P1]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You blink in the lantern light(if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[ and feel your tail swish in anguish](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[and press your tail between your legs]. It has been such a long day that the reason why you came here has rolled to the back of your mind, like a pebble kicked by a careless foot. But now it has returned, massive, heavy as a boulder. "I am $Name, from the town of Bulochkin," you say to the guard, struggling to steady your breath as you think back to your grandfather. Hopefully, he hasn't gotten worse.] (if:$Race is "Human")[You raise your hand to your eyes to block out the blue glare, and bite your lips, trying to contain your agitation. It has been such a long day that the reason why you came here has rolled to the back of your mind, like a pebble kicked by a careless foot. But now it has returned, massive, heavy as a boulder. "I am $Name, from the Zolotoye farmstead," you say to the guard, struggling to steady your breath as you think back to the folk at your farm, hoping that they have been staying away from that cursed hole.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[The $DryadHead on your head rustle in anguish as you flinch in the lantern light, trying to gather your thoughts. It has been such a long day that the reason why you came here has rolled to the back of your mind, like a pebble kicked by a careless foot. But now it has returned, massive, heavy as a boulder. "I am $Name, from the Great Birch Grove," you say to the guard, struggling to steady your breath as you think back to your elder, and all the other living things in the grove. What if that barren patch, and that odd tainted stream, has been spreading further?] "We found some odd... blight in our water. The Princess needs to hear of this. Personally." The guard does not appear too convinced. They loom over you, impossibly tall with or without their antler. Their partner draws closer as well, pressing at you from the other side. The tension brews, dense like a rich potato soup — but you are not going to boil in it forever! You have things to do! There has to be some way to make these two budge, so you can see the Princess already. [[You have a sword, and won't hesitate to use it->Attack with Sword Night]] [[You have a bow, and won't hesitate to use it->Attack with Bow Night]] [[You have a walking stick, and won't hesitate to use it->Attack with Stick Night]] [[You have a sword, but you would rather not use it->Peace with Sword Night]] [[You have a bow, but you would rather not use it->Peace with Bow Night]] [[You have a walking stick, but you would rather not use it->Peace with Stick Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Sword")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty sword. (if:$Race is "Human")[It's a family heirloom, left behind from a great—great—uncle or some such, who used to adventure with the pointy—eared Alfr in his youth, venturing through the Great Birch Grove and beyond. The family set it aside in case bandits attacked the farmstead — and now it is in your hands. ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You asked a neighbor of your grandfather's, one of the many master bakers of Bulochkin, and the daughter of Guests, to lend it to you. She was hesitant at first, a brown touching her usually kindly dark—brown face. That sword used to be on display in the pride of place in her living room, polished to mirror perfection at all times... And she sure did love telling the story of how a passing soldier had so fallen in love with her fish kulebyaka that he traded his sword for a recipe. But in the end, she caved. "I saw how that water hurt your poor grandpappy," she told you. "I suppose you need this more than I do. Good luck on your journey!" So now, the sword is in your hands. ] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Metal weapons are hard to come by in the grove, but miraculously, another one of your elders, whose trunk—like body hard grown twice a human's height over her three—and—something centuries walking the earth, still had a blade lodged somewhere in her side. A souvenir from a grand battle she had taken part in as a sapling about your age. It did not particularly bother her, and she even showed it off to youngsters, like one would show off a scar. But the elder that had gotten injured in the black stream is a dear friend of hers, and she did not hesitate for a moment before turning her mossy back to you and allowing you to pull the "that old iron splinter" out. After much tugging and grunting and huffing and puffing, the sword passed to you.] Spreading your legs apart, bent in the knee in an aggressive stance, (if:$Race is "Dryad")[while the green tendrils on your head writhe and bristle, ]you (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[feel your hackles rise. You ]are ready to whip the sword out its sheathe and show this moose and their pal what for if they don't let you pass! The moose guard huffs a long breath through their large nostrils, and shoves their lantern into the human guard's arms, sword and shield all forgotten. Then, they flex their shoulders and reach for their halberd, resting against one of the gate pillars. You cry out and lunge forward — but the moose's free hand, five—fingered like the hands of all Beastfolk(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ (yourself included)], closes around the crown of your head(if:$Race is "Dryad")[, crumpling your $DryadHead in its grip]. They lift you off the ground effortlessly, leaving you hanging in suspense. Figuratively and literally. [[Next->Post-Attack Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Bow")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty bow. (if:$Race is "Human")[Back on the farm, you did not use it for much except trying to scare away the crows that had made it their life's mission to mess with your crops. Or maybe going on an occasional rabbit chase with your friends in the little aspen copse behind the homestead. It is a plaything more than a weapon, really — but nonetheless, you thought that grabbing it on your way to Svetloyar would not hurt. And now, cornered by the guards, you reach for the bow and the little makeshift quiver that comes with it.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[...Well, you hope that it's trusty, at least. It came into your possession entirely by accident. Just after discovering the taint in the water, you and your grandfather bumped into some noisy passersby in the street. A motley bunch: a couple of humans, a lynx person, even a pointy-eared Alfr with a glistening, dark-grey face and messy white hair. On their belts, they carried bows and arrows and snares; in their hands, they were clutching wineskins; and none of them was fully sober. They had to be hunters, coming to Bulochkin to sell their catch to bakers that wanted to make mince pies... And throw a hearty celebration with the lunkas they'd earned. One of the hunters, a human with a flush across their face, spotted your grandfather's injured hand and practically shoved their bow against his chest. "Go shh..." they slurred, raising an emphatic finger. "Go shoot whom—mev.. who—ev... whomst did this to you!" The other hunters cried "Hear hear!" and then staggered all together down the street. You do not know if that human ever regretted giving away their bow once they sobered up, but regardless. You have it now, and are in a good mind to use it.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You fashioned it, along with a few arrows to match, out of the branches you took from the trees in the grove, thanking them for their sacrifice as the elders taught you. Crafting a bow is usually a lengthy process, but a clan member kindly sped it up for you, knowing that you were leaving the shelter of the grove for the greater, more confusing, often treacherous world. That clan member has been touched by sila. So all he had to do was hover his hand over the largest branch in the little heap you'd gathered, and threads of pale blue light spun around it, faster and faster, each as fine as the edge of a blade: chiseling, polishing, carving. In a few moments, a finished bow emerged; you took it with you for protection — and now it seems that the time has come to use it.] It quickly dawns on you, however, that you won't even be able to draw the string properly at such close range. So instead, you just have to wave the arrow threateningly, clasped in your fist... In hopes that, perhaps, you might jab either guard somewhere — in the knee, maybe, or in the eye if you are feeling particularly bloodthirsty — and make them back off. The moose guard is not impressed with your flailing. They huff a long breath through their large nostrils, and shove their lantern into the human guard's arms, sword and shield all forgotten. Then, they flex their shoulders and reach for their halberd, resting against one of the gate pillars. You cry out and lunge forward — but the moose's free hand, five—fingered like the hands of all Beastfolk(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ (yourself included)], closes around the crown of your head(if:$Race is "Dryad")[, crumpling your $DryadHead in its grip]. They lift you off the ground effortlessly, leaving you hanging in suspense. Figuratively and literally. [[Next->Post-Attack Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Stick")You are no fighter; never have been. On your travels, you have not brought along any weapons. Just a trusty walking stick. And to be entirely honest, it's not even a proper walking stick. It's just a fallen wood branch that you picked up on the side of the road as you were leaving (if:$Race is "Human")[the farmstead](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[your hometown](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the grove]. But it proved sturdy and reliable as you were dragging your hapless feet along the endless road, after being so unceremoniously tossed off the potters' cart. Perhaps it might also suit another purpose... Like kicking a certain bothersome guard in the shins. You take a breath, set your aim as best you can, and slam your walking stick into the moose guard's long legs. ...On second thoughts, you should probably have gone for (if:$Race is "Human")[your fellow](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[the](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the] human. The moose does not even flinch. They only huff a long breath through their large nostrils, and shove their lantern into the human guard's arms, sword and shield all forgotten. Then, they flex their shoulders and reach for their halberd, resting against one of the gate pillars. You cry out and lunge forward — but the moose's free hand, five—fingered like the hands of all Beastfolk(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ (yourself included)], closes around the crown of your head(if:$Race is "Dryad")[, crumpling your $DryadHead in its grip]. They lift you off the ground effortlessly, leaving you hanging in suspense. Figuratively and literally. [[Next->Post-Attack Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Sword")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty sword. (if:$Race is "Human")[It's a family heirloom, left behind from a great—great—uncle or some such, who used to adventure with the pointy—eared Alfr in his youth, venturing through the Great Birch Grove and beyond. The family set it aside in case bandits attacked the farmstead — and now it is in your hands. ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You asked a neighbor of your grandfather's, one of the many master bakers of Bulochkin, and the daughter of Guests, to lend it to you. She was hesitant at first, a brown touching her usually kindly dark—brown face. That sword used to be on display in the pride of place in her living room, polished to mirror perfection at all times... And she sure did love telling the story of how a passing soldier had so fallen in love with her fish kulebyaka that he traded his sword for a recipe. But in the end, she caved. "I saw how that water hurt your poor grandpappy," she told you. "I suppose you need this more than I do. Good luck on your journey!" So now, the sword is in your hands. ] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Metal weapons are hard to come by in the grove, but miraculously, another one of your elders, whose trunk—like body hard grown twice a human's height over her three—and—something centuries walking the earth, still had a blade lodged somewhere in her side. A souvenir from a grand battle she had taken part in as a sapling about your age. It did not particularly bother her, and she even showed it off to youngsters, like one would show off a scar. But the elder that had gotten injured in the black stream is a dear friend of hers, and she did not hesitate for a moment before turning her mossy back to you and allowing you to pull the "that old iron splinter" out. After much tugging and grunting and huffing and puffing, the sword passed to you.] But the reason why you armed yourself before setting out was to defend yourself from bandits, or wild beasts, or some of those creatures that lurk in the night and drag away unwary travelers to drain them of blood. You have no quarrel with these guards — and even though your fingers brush momentarily over your sword's hilt, you instead raise your hand and say, "Please. I am telling the truth. Let me into the city. I have to see the Princess!" The moose guard rests their lantern—free hand on their hip, still not particularly keen on believing you. [[Next->Post-Peace Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Bow")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty bow. (if:$Race is "Human")[Back on the farm, you did not use it for much except trying to scare away the crows that had made it their life's mission to mess with your crops. Or maybe going on an occasional rabbit chase with your friends in the little aspen copse behind the homestead. It is a plaything more than a weapon, really — but nonetheless, you thought that grabbing it on your way to Svetloyar would not hurt.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[...Well, you hope that it's trusty, at least. It came into your possession entirely by accident. Just after discovering the taint in the water, you and your grandfather bumped into some noisy passersby in the street. A motley bunch: a couple of humans, a lynx person, even a pointy-eared Alfr with a glistening, dark-grey face and messy white hair. On their belts, they carried bows and arrows and snares; in their hands, they were clutching wineskins; and none of them was fully sober. They had to be hunters, coming to Bulochkin to sell their catch to bakers that wanted to make mince pies... And throw a hearty celebration with the lunkas they'd earned. One of the hunters, a human with a flush across their face, spotted your grandfather's injured hand and practically shoved their bow against his chest. "Go shh..." they slurred, raising an emphatic finger. "Go shoot whom—mev.. who—ev... whomst did this to you!" The other hunters cried "Hear hear!" and then staggered all together down the street. You do not know if that human ever regretted giving away their bow once they sobered up, but regardless. You have it now.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You fashioned it, along with a few arrows to match, out of the branches you took from the trees in the grove, thanking them for their sacrifice as the elders taught you. Crafting a bow is usually a lengthy process, but a clan member kindly sped it up for you, knowing that you were leaving the shelter of the grove for the greater, more confusing, often treacherous world. That clan member has been touched by sila. So all he had to do was hover his hand over the largest branch in the little heap you'd gathered, and threads of pale blue light spun around it, faster and faster, each as fine as the edge of a blade: chiseling, polishing, carving. In a few moments, a finished bow emerged; and it has been your companion ever since.] But the reason you did so was to defend yourself from bandits, or wild beasts, or some of those creatures that lurk in the night and drag away unwary travelers to drain them of blood. You have no quarrel with these guards — and even though your fingers brush momentarily over your quiver, you instead raise your hand and say, "Please. I am telling the truth. Let me into the city. I have to see the Princess!" The moose guard rests their lantern—free hand on their hip, still not particularly keen on believing you. [[Next->Post-Peace Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Wait!" the human guard cries out, wobbling a bit as he tries to balance both the lantern and his weapon. "Please don't do anything brash! Maybe this traveler is just desperate! I would be if I found blight in the water!" The moose huffs, and clenches your head just a tiny bit tighter. "Are you saying we should trust $PronounGen?" "M—maybe you can go to the place together?" the human suggests. "You can watch over $PronounGen in case of any funny business, and... and grab $PronounGen like that again if the Princess is threatened? I will handle the rest of the watch!" The moose scrapes at the ground with their hoof. While the Beastfolk's / your kin's upper limbs look a lot like human arms, except with fur, their legs usually end in claws or hooves. And apparently, the guard has not found any boots to pack their hooves in. "I suppose if there really is some sort of blight, we can't risk the Princess not knowing. All right, I will take this little lunatic to her. Do not fall asleep on the post." They set you down, but the halberd still remains in their grasp. They motion you with it to move through the gates, and there is little choice but to go where they point. [[Next->Walk at Night with Guard]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Um," the human guard pipes in, eyes huge and round. "I kind of believe this traveler... Maybe we should let $PronounGen pass?" The moose sighs, all their gigantic being radiating reluctance. "I mean, $PronounNom did say please?" the other guard insists, a bit bolder this time. "Have you ever heard of a robber say please?" "An assassin can say please and then sneak in and stab the Princess," the moose points out. "But fine. I hope the palace guards are not too drunk after the feast yet. And even if they are, the Princess' druzhina will squash you like a melon if you as much as look at the her funny. Go on in." They set you down and add through their teeth, "Welcome to Svetloyar." "Yay," the human guard finishes, rather weakly. You give the two of them a side—eye and amble through the gates, in a hurry to leave it as far behind you as possible before the guards change their mind. [[Next->Walk by Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The city greets you with a waft of smells, so strong after the grass and dust of the road. Some pleasant, some not so much. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ With your keen senses, you can discern so many different notes: someone's stew, and garbage waiting for city cleaners, and potted flowers on a windowsill, and body odor, and rotting straw. You toss your head from side to side, trying to focus, and set your eyes on your goal: the top of the hill, where the royal palace awaits.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[They wash over you like a murky, very questionable broth, but you try not to let the sensation distract you. Your eyes travel up, to your ultimate goal: the top of the hill, where the royal palace awaits. So off you set, moving ever up, through the city districts that cling to the sides of the hill in colorful clusters, like mushrooms clinging to the trunk of a tree... Or to the body of an elderly dryad. There are many wooden buildings here, much more than you have ever seen in your life, or imagined existing in a single place. Some have so many storeys that you wonder how they have not collapsed under their own weight. You do hope that the trees that gave their lives to make building this city possible were treated with due respect.] (if:$Race is "Human")[They wash over you like a murky, very questionable broth, but you try not to let the sensation distract you. Your eyes travel up, to your ultimate goal: the top of the hill, where the royal palace awaits. So off you set, moving ever up, through the city districts that cling to the sides of the hill in colorful clusters, like mushrooms clinging to the trunk of a tree.] You expected the streets to be darker — but all of them, starting from the lowest slobodas and all the way uphill, are lit by the same magical lanterns as the one you saw in the hands of the moose guard. Hovering in mid—air, help up by nothing but sila alone, they paint a picture of the city in strokes of white and azure and black, and highlight paths — streets and narrow little alleys — that cut through the never-ending mass of buildings. These passages, which you duck into, one after the other, are paved with long, sturdy planks of wood — or cobblestones, more and more frequently the further you climb. You stride past the people's homes, linked overhead by cloth lines, with shirts and linen flapping against the moons like dark flags. You maneuver between market stalls — or rather, their empty carcasses, cleared of goods and silent and dark — and little stores, bolted down for the night. Perhaps one of them belongs to the potter family you traveled with... for a bit. Sometimes you stop and gawk for a moment or two, if only to give your legs a bit of reprieve after a day of walking. But there is nothing much to see: the doors are shut, and the curtains are drawn whenever you look, and the muffled conversations and laughter coming from behind them are not meant for you. Even the great temple, one of the city's main sights, which you have heard about even (if:$Race is "Human")[on your remote farm](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[in your little town](if:$Race is "Dryad")[in your faraway grove], is dark and quiet. Its five huge, round domes — one for the sun, three for his sister moons, and one for the most important being of all, the life—giving Mother Earth — glint faintly in the light of the stars and the lanterns, which float all around them like fireflies. And you can only imagine how they must shine by day. The only places that still remain open at this hour are the inns. Time and again, you find yourself stunned by a burst of ruckus out the burning golden square of an inn door or window, sudden as a thunderclap. You also have to dodge a patron or two that emerge into the street, unsteady on their legs and carrying a waft of warmth with them from indoors. More often than not, they come out to relieve themselves, so speed is of the essence when you dash out of their way... Until you come across a late—night drunk that is nothing like the others. [[Next->Knight Ghost]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $AttackWillem to false)Knees buckling, limbs suddenly cold and heavy, you choke on a shrill outcry. The ghost turns his head almost full—circle to look at you, which only makes the cold, numb feeling spread further through your body. But thankfully, he does not do anything else. With his head still set backwards on his shoulders, he continues what he was doing before you stumbled into him. Namely, pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. They make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. You can definitely imagine what they must be feeling. At some point, the ghost swivels his neck in a more natural position and starts threshing his fists with even greater determination. Soon, the ornate wooden shutters of the window nearest to the door slip open, and a human's face pokes through cautiously. A very haggard, sleep—deprived face, with hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw. The human stares at the ghost at first, his eyes bulging like two peeled boiled eggs, with tiny grains of pepper in the middle. But then, his gaze darts to you. Before you can make a run for it, and leave him to deal with his problems, he cries out, his cheeks burning crimson with agitation, "Kind stranger, please help! He does that every night! This is my third door, I think! He just keeps breaking them! And scaring my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager that this buckethead was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele...! Please, since you happen to be here — could you deal with him?" [[Next->Willem's Lament]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $AttackWillem to false)Holding your breath till it feels like your chest is caving in on itself, you tiptoe back, into the shadow between two lanterns. The ghost does not seem to notice you. Perhaps your sneakiness worked, or perhaps he is just far too preoccupied by what he was doing before you stumbled into him. Namely, pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. They make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. Perhaps they hold their breath and keep to remote, hidden corners just as you are. At long last, the ornate wooden shutters of the window nearest to the door slip open, and a human's face pokes through cautiously. A very haggard, sleep—deprived face, with hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw. The human stares at the ghost, his eyes bulging like two peeled boiled eggs, with tiny grains of pepper in the middle. You decide that, while the two of them are busy being noisy and terrified respectively, it is the perfect time for you to make your leave. But as you begin to back even further away, you step into the light of a lantern, and the man in the window spots you. He cries out, his cheeks burning crimson with agitation, "Kind stranger, please help! He does that every night! This is my third door, I think! He just keeps breaking them! And scaring my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager this buckethead was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele...! Please, since you happen to be here — could you deal with him?" [[Next->Willem's Lament]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $AttackWillem to false)When you stumbled into the ghost, he was busy pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. And he still keeps doing it, with no intention to stop. His fists make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. Well, maybe... They won't stay trapped there for good. Ghosts do not just crop up for no reason. This armored stranger probably has some sort of unfinished business at the inn. If only you could try and help him resolve it... You steady yourself, clear your throat, and call to the ghost, "Hello? Who are you... uh... Spirit?" The ghost, still in the middle of assailing the door, turns his head almost full—circle to look at you, but you do not falter, disturbed as you are. "What is your purpose here?" you ask through the racket. The ornate wooden shutters of the window nearest to the door slip suddenly fly wide open, and a human's face pokes through. A very haggard, sleep—deprived face, with hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw, and cheeks burning crimson with agitation. "I will tell you what his purpose is!" he says, nearly in tears. "To ruin my business! Every night, he shows up at the door and terrifies my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager that this buckethead was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele! Kind stranger — if you, somehow, send him back where he came from, I will be very grateful!" [[Next->Willem's Lament]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} For all of the innkeeper's pleas, you are not at all certain that you will ever get the ghost to cooperate. But just as you think that, the apparition finally speaks — leaving the door alone and taking a step towards you, with his hands raised in a piteous, wringing gesture. "I am Ser Willem, knight from the glorious realm of Züdemark," he says, in a thick accent. "I was slain in battle under the banner of my King, and I could not have asked for a worthier end... But before I headed into the fray, I made myself a promise that, once it was all over, I would treat myself to a nice drink. A fine stout, mayhap; or a goblet of wine... Alack!" He wrings his hands even more intensely. You are half-prepared to see him tear his ghostly fingers off, and then probably plonk them back on. "Twas this promise that doomed me to haunt this mortal plane! For four hundred years, I have been wandering the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, far beyond my beloved home, seeking to quench my thirst... But no publican in any land, from Züdemark to Rodina, has ever opened their doors to me!" "Damn right they didn't!" the innkeeper spits, growing bolder by the second. "You are nothing but a public hazard! I am sure this fine $InnKeeperAddress will agree with me! You... You saw how he assaulted my inn!" You frown at his tirade, thinking. [[Let the ghost have a drink->Offer Drink]] [[Rebuke the ghost->Shoo Willem]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $AttackWillem to true)When you stumbled into the ghost, he was busy pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. And he still keeps doing it, with no intention to stop. His fists make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. But you, out here, are armed.(if:$Weapon is "Stick")[ Well, more or less. ] It is up to you to banish this noisy specter. To ensure those poor people's safety... Or perhaps earn a reward, for the valuable time you spent defending them instead of continuing on your way to the palace. (if:$Weapon is "Sword")[Filling your lungs with the slightly stale backstreet air, you charge at the ghost. Your sword/stick passes right through his chestplate, as if it were made out of jelly. You pull it back, and it slides free, with the kind of noise your foot would make, if you stepped into wet moss and then lifted your sole. Ectoplasm trickles down the blade's edge like tree sap, pulsing with faint glow. In the meanwhile, the gash you made stitches itself together in blinding white; and then even that white mark does linger, blending into the shiny golden background. As if it you had not even scratched that armor! The ghost pauses his vicious knocking, and makes a muffled, mooing sort of sound through his visor, while pushing one arm forward, as if to shove at you. You do not even feel his touch, but something invisible and very powerful sends you flying head over heels, for the second time this day. Your back rams, rather painfully, into the corner of the building across the alley — and as you straighten your shaky legs, you see the ornate wooden shutters of an inn window, the one nearest to the door, fly wide open. A human's face pokes through: a very haggard, sleep—deprived face. With hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw, and cheeks burning crimson with agitation... and maybe anger?](if:$Weapon is "Stick")[Filling your lungs with the slightly stale backstreet air, you charge at the ghost. Your sword/stick passes right through his chestplate, as if it were made out of jelly. You pull it back, and it slides free, with the kind of noise your foot would make, if you stepped into wet moss and then lifted your sole. Ectoplasm oozes down the poor stick like tree sap, pulsing with faint glow. In the meanwhile, the gash you made stitches itself together in blinding white; and then even that white mark does linger, blending into the shiny golden background. As if it you had not even scratched that armor! The ghost pauses his vicious knocking, and makes a muffled, mooing sort of sound through his visor, while pushing one arm forward, as if to shove at you. You do not even feel his touch, but something invisible and very powerful sends you flying head over heels, for the second time this day. Your back rams, rather painfully, into the corner of the building across the alley — and as you straighten your shaky legs, you see the ornate wooden shutters of an inn window, the one nearest to the door, fly wide open. A human's face pokes through: a very haggard, sleep—deprived face. With hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw, and cheeks burning crimson with agitation... and maybe anger?](if:$Weapon is "Bow")[You notch an arrow and take aim. The ghost is hard to miss, a glaring golden blob against the inky blue of the alley where the inn stands. And when you release the string with a sharp "Twanng!", your arrow does seem to strike true: right through the ghost's helmet. But a split second after it sinks into the visor, it slips further down, traveling through the ghost's body like a knife cutting through pork salo. The ghost gets distracted from the inn's door for a moment, and as he stands still, you can clearly observe the arrow passing down, down, down (with a sickly spasm in your throat as you cannot help but imagine how this arrow would have pierced a living person the same way). From where his eyes should be, the arrow journeys along his windpipe, and into the chest; then veers a bit to the left and slithers through the ghost's arm, before finally poking its tip out of his thumb and thunking to the ground. You are still reeling from what you have seen, when the ornate wooden shutters of an inn window, the one nearest to the door, fly wide open. A human's face pokes through: a very haggard, sleep—deprived face. With hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw, and cheeks burning crimson with agitation... and maybe anger?] "Kind stranger, please don't stop now!" he cries breathlessly. "Get rid of that buckethead! Every night, he shows up at the door and terrifies my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager he was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele! So please, please, send him back where he came from!" [[Next->Willem's Lament]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "If you want him gone," you say at length, "Perhaps you should offer him a drink? Maybe that will calm him down, and he will leave you be?" The innkeeper runs his fingers through his straw—colored hair. You can almost hear the clink—clink—clink of coins as, inside his sweat—drenched head, he weighs the cost of a single drink against the damage the ghost keeps causing. Once the clinking seems to arrive at the bottom line, he gulps loudly and announces his decision. "Very well. No harm in trying, I suppose. Give me a moment to fetch you a pint of... something." (if:$AttackWillem is true)["Ah! At last!" the ghost cries — but then he remembers your presence. "Never you mind, good publican," he huffs, wiggling in his armor like a rooster ruffling his feathers. "I would rather keep on wandering than accept any refreshments in a place where I was so rudely assaulted!" "But I was the one who told him to get you a drink!" you protest, gesturing from the ghost to the innkeeper. But all the ghost does in response is huff again, and storm off into the night, marching with his back stiff and his knees nearly unbending until he hits the wall of a nearby building. Without the slightest pause, he submerges into the solid wood as if it were a pile of soft sawdust, and vanishes without a trace. (set: $GhostStatus to "Hostile") "Well, at least he is gone," the innkeeper sighs. "I suppose a reward is in order."] (if:$AttackWillem is false)["Ah! At last!" the ghost cries, throwing his glowing arms upwards in glee. The innkeeper gives him a wordless side—eye, but does back away indoors, vanishing from view in a sea of clanking and sizzling noises. "This is what you get for actually having a conversation, instead of battering at people's doors!" you point out, as both you and the ghost wait for the innkeeper to re—emerge. "No—one ever offered me a conversation, my young friend," the ghost responds, with a faint note of wistfulness in his voice. "There you go! Hope that is... sufficient." The innkeeper has returned. Still wary of stepping out into the street, he passes the drink — a long, frothing flagon of something beer—like — through the window. The knight reaches for it, without touching. When the tips of his fingers are just a couple of inches away from the flagon, an outline of golden glow, similar to the one emitted by his whole being, springs up around it. It slips from the stunned, gawping innkeeper's grasp, and floats, much like enchanted lanterns, towards the ghost. The flagon inserts itself into the ghost's hand, as though he were always meant to hold it. And with his other hand, he raises the visor of his helmet, revealing an aged face, with puffy cheeks and an even puffier nose, shaped like a bolete cap. Below that nose, is a short moustache, dense as the brush you would clean shoes with. It twitches in excitement as the ghost extends his lips like a duck beak and slurps up the glowing beer. Tall as the flagon is, he is done with it in just a few long, greedy draughts. Finishing off with a burp of appreciation, he wipes his moustache and beams in contentment. "Finally... I can be at peace... I can leave... beyond the seas... to the palaces Der Drei Schwestern..." Before he has even finished speaking, his body — starting with the legs — begins to evaporate, diffusing into fine golden dust, which is then swept away by the wind. The dust consumes more and more: his chestplate, his fingers, which let go of the flagon, so that it drops to the ground, its glow extinguished... His throat, too, and finally, his head, which nods at you in gratitude before it melts and nothing remains but a few lingering specks of dust.(set: $GhostStatus to "MovedOn") The innkeeper scratches his head. "Well. That is that, then. Good riddance! I... I suppose a reward is in order. "] [[Accept reward->Willem Reward Yes]] [[Reject reward->Willem Reward No]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "Friend")After giving it a little thought, you fold your arms on your chest(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ and bare your teeth slightly].(if:$Race is "Dryad")[ and rustle your $DryadHead in disapproval.] "I agree with the innkeeper. Nobody has let you in because you act too terrifying. You do not deserve that drink." The ghost rattles his glowy visor, affronted. You cautiously flex your fingers, prepared to grab your weapon at the slightest provocation... But, after holding a very tense pause, Ser Willem merely sighs, shoulders sagging. "Ah. Mayhap you are right. 'This unbecoming of me. No—one ever dared tell me that to my face for all these years... They must have been afraid. Much to think on. Much to think on..." With that, still slouching dejectedly till his hands almost scrape against the ground, he trundles away — until he hits the wall of a nearby building. Without stopping, he submerges into the solid wood as if it were a pile of soft sawdust, and vanishes, nary a trace of him left. "Well, at least he is gone," the innkeeper mutters. "I suppose a reward is in order. " [[Accept reward->Willem Reward Yes]] [[Reject reward->Willem Reward No]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GotReward to true)(set: $Reward to "purse")"Yes it is!" you agree, with much emphasis. The innkeeper vanishes indoors. After a moment of quiet, almost alien after all of the ghost's hammering, there is a sudden burst of applause from the people inside. A hoarse voice even cries out, (either: "We love you, kind stranger!", "Kind stranger, you are our hero!", " Kind stranger, let me marry you!", "Finally, some peace! Thank you, kind stranger!"). And presently, the innkeeper pops back out again, handing you a sizable purse. "Quite a few folks pitched in," he says, looking very pleased that he did not have to fund your whole reward by himself.(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ You never thought a human would look so... cat-like.] With the coins in hand, you can finally proceed on the final stretch of your way to the palace.(if:$GhostStatus is "Hostile")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.](if:$GhostStatus is "Friend")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.] [[Next->Night Palace]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GotReward to false)"No, thank you, I do not need anything! Take care now!" you say, trying your best to give him a smile. The innkeeper seems rather relieved that he will not be parting with any of his lunkas. He gives you a silent thumbs-up of farewell, and then vanishes, slamming the shutters behind him — no doubt eager to tell everyone at the inn the good news. With that done, you can finally proceed on the final stretch of your way to the palace.(if:$GhostStatus is "Hostile")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.](if:$GhostStatus is "Friend")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.] [[Next->Night Palace]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The city greets the two of you with a waft of smells, so strong after the grass and dust of the road. Some pleasant, so not so much. The moose guard flinches sometimes, as a gust of something particularly... poignant hits their keen Beastfolk senses, and you sympathize (sort of; they are, after all shepherding you about with a weapon on the ready). (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You, too, can discern so many different notes: someone's stew, and garbage waiting for city cleaners, and potted flowers on a windowsill, and body odor, and rotting straw. You toss your head from side to side, trying to focus, and set your eyes on your goal: the top of the hill, where the royal palace awaits.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[They wash over you like a murky, very questionable broth, but you try not to let the sensation distract you. Your eyes travel up, to your ultimate goal: the top of the hill, where the royal palace awaits. So off you set, trotting beside the mosse guard. Moving ever up, through the city districts that cling to the sides of the hill in colorful clusters, like mushrooms clinging to the trunk of a tree... Or to the body of an elderly dryad. There are many wooden buildings here, much more than you have ever seen in your life, or imagined existing in a single place. Some have so many storeys that you wonder how they have not collapsed under their own weight. You do hope that the trees that gave their lives to make building this city possible were treated with due respect.] (if:$Race is "Human")[They wash over you like a murky, very questionable broth, but you try not to let the sensation distract you. Your eyes travel up, to your ultimate goal: the top of the hill, where the royal palace awaits. So off you set, trotting beside the mosse guard. Moving ever up, through the city districts that cling to the sides of the hill in colorful clusters, like mushrooms clinging to the trunk of a tree.] You expected the streets to be darker — but all of them, starting from the lowest slobodas and all the way uphill, are lit by the same magical lanterns as the one that your companion left with their timid human watch partner. Hovering in mid—air, help up by nothing but sila alone, the lanterns paint a picture of the city in strokes of white and azure and black, and highlight paths — streets and narrow little alleys — that cut through the never-ending mass of buildings. These passages, which you the moose, gruff as ever, motions you to duck into, one after the other, are paved with long, sturdy planks of wood — or cobblestones, more and more frequently the further you walk climb. You stride past the people's homes, linked overhead by cloth lines, with shirts and linen flapping against the moons like dark flags. You maneuver between market stalls — or rather, their empty carcasses, cleared of goods and silent and dark — and little stores, bolted down for the night. Perhaps one of them belongs to the potter family you traveled with... for a bit. Sometimes, lagging discreetly behind the moose, you stop and gawk for a moment or two, if only to give your legs a bit of reprieve after a day of walking. But your chaperone always realizes that you have fallen back, and whips their head around to glare at you (and even hoists their halberd meaningfully) until you pick up pace again. And either way, there is nothing much to see: the doors are shut, and the curtains are drawn whenever you look, and the muffled conversations and laughter coming from behind them are not meant for you. Even the great temple, one of the city's main sights, which you have heard about even (if:$Race is "Human")[on your remote farm](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[in your little town](if:$Race is "Dryad")[in your faraway grove], is dark and quiet. Its five huge, round domes — one for the sun, three for his sister moons, and one for the most important being of all, the life—giving Mother Earth — glint faintly in the light of the stars and the lanterns, which float all around them like fireflies. And you can only imagine how they must shine by day. The only places that still remain open at this hour are the inns. Time and again, you find yourself stunned by a burst of ruckus out the burning golden square of an inn door or window, sudden as a thunderclap. The moose by your side grows tense, alert — perhaps drawing up a whole strategy inside their head, with arrows and cross marks and all, in case they have to apprehend someone particularly disorderly. You even have to dodge a patron or two when they emerge into the street, unsteady on their legs and carrying a waft of warmth with them from indoors. More often than not, they come out to relieve themselves, so speed is of the essence when you dash out of their way. Some times, you also have to clear the way because the moose leans down from their colossal height, grabs the drunk by the collar, and gives him, or sometimes her, a good shake before coaxing out a slurred, gurgling promise to go home and sleep it off. And so you and your guard escort keep moving forward... Until you come across a late—night drunk that is nothing like the others. [[Next->Knight with Moose]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} He is clad from head to toe in an armor suit from solid metal, face hidden behind a grated visor. Like the magical lanterns overhead, the metal emits a steady golden glow, as if it were fresh from a forge. Or perhaps enchanted with some fire spell. But when you and the guard, who is just as wary of the glowing knight as you are, approach a bit closer, you feel no heat emanating from this odd stranger. More than that, you realize that his armour is not entirely opaque. You can see the half—blurred outlines of the buildings behind him, right through his chestplate. He is a ghost. You slant your eyes at the guard. They have frozen up, uncertain how to proceed. You are not sure how common hauntings are in big cities like Svetloyar — but apparently, less common than noisy crowds in inns and weird travelers pestering guards at the city gates. Speaking of which. When you try to reach for your weapon, the guard breaks out of their petrified state, somewhat, to snort at you under their breath. You are still on probation, then. If that ghost turns out to be hostile, the stubborn moose won't even let you defend yourself. Tension grips at you. [[Cry out->Cry with Moose]] [[Back away slowly->Back Away with Moose]] [[Start a conversation with the ghost->Talk to Ghost with Moose]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Knees buckling, limbs suddenly cold and heavy, you cannot hold back on an abrupt, incoherent outcry: anxiety and frustration. The ghost turns his head almost full—circle to look at you and the moose. Which only makes the cold, numb feeling spread further through your body. But thankfully, he does not do anything else. With his head still set backwards on his shoulders, he continues what he was doing before the two of you stumbled into him. Namely, pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. They make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. You can definitely imagine what they must be feeling. At some point, the ghost swivels his neck in a more natural position and starts threshing his fists with even greater determination. Soon, the ornate wooden shutters of the window nearest to the door slip open, and a human's face pokes through cautiously. A very haggard, sleep—deprived face, with hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw. The human stares at the ghost at first, his eyes bulging like two peeled boiled eggs, with tiny grains of pepper in the middle. But then, his gaze darts to you, and to the moose. His cheeks burn up crimson with agitation, and he yelps, "Oh, finally! A guard that hasn't dismissed my complaints... yet. Please help! He does that every night! This is my third door, I think! He just keeps breaking them! And scaring my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager that this buckethead was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele...! Maybe you could fine him, after you deal with this... nuisance?" [[Next->Willem's Lament with Moose]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Holding your breath till it feels like your chest is caving in on itself, you tiptoe back, into the shadow between two lanterns. The moose spots your movement: and unexpectedly, follows suit. The ghost does not seem to notice you. Perhaps your sneakiness worked... Though that would be hard to imagine in the moose's case, much as they try to squish their antlered head into their shoulders. Or perhaps he is just far too preoccupied by what he was doing before you stumbled into him. Namely, pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. They make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. Perhaps they hold their breath and keep to remote, hidden corners just as you are. At long last, the ornate wooden shutters of the window nearest to the door slip open, and a human's face pokes through cautiously. A very haggard, sleep—deprived face, with hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw. The human stares at the ghost, his eyes bulging like two peeled boiled eggs, with tiny grains of pepper in the middle. But then, the eggs roll to the side a little, and he manages to make out the silhouette of the moose's antler, peeking out on either side of a telltale pointy guard helmet. His cheeks burn up crimson with agitation, and he yelps, "Oh, finally! A guard that hasn't dismissed my complaints... yet. Please help! He does that every night! This is my third door, I think! He just keeps breaking them! And scaring my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager that this buckethead was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele...! Maybe you could fine him, after you deal with this... nuisance?" [[Next->Willem's Lament with Moose]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} When you and your chaperone stumbled into the ghost, he was busy pounding his armored fists against the door of an inn. And he still keeps doing it, with no intention to stop. His fists make an awful lot of noise, considering that his fingers do not have any flesh or bone left on them. The door quakes and rattles in its frame, and each of those quakes and rattles is met with a chorus of hushed whispers from the other side. The inn's guests must be trapped in there, besieged by an angry ghost. Well, maybe... They won't stay trapped there for good. Ghosts do not just crop up for no reason. This armored stranger probably has some sort of unfinished business at the inn. If only you could try and help him resolve it... Preferably before the moose finally makes up their mind and charges at him... You steady yourself, clear your throat, and call to the ghost, "Hello? Who are you... uh... Spirit?" The ghost, still in the middle of assailing the door, turns his head almost full—circle to look at you, but you do not falter, disturbed as you are. "What is your purpose here?" you ask through the racket. The ornate wooden shutters of the window nearest to the door slip suddenly fly wide open, and a human's face pokes through. A very haggard, sleep—deprived face, with hair and sideburns standing on end like three handfuls of bristly straw, and cheeks burning crimson with agitation. "I will tell you what his purpose is!" he says, nearly in tears. "To ruin my business! Every night, he shows up at the door and terrifies my guests — those who haven't scattered off to drink at other places! Oh, I would wager that this buckethead was sent by Potapych, that talking bear with the supposedly best mead in the city! The big boor always coveted my clientele! Kind stranger — if you, somehow, send him back where he came from, I will be very grateful! And I see you brought a guard too! Finally!" [[Next->Willem's Lament with Moose]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} For all of the innkeeper's pleas, you are not at all certain that you will ever get the ghost to cooperate. But just as you think that, the apparition finally speaks — leaving the door alone and taking a step towards you and the moose guard, with his hands raised in a piteous, wringing gesture. "I am Ser Willem, knight from the glorious realm of Züdemark," he says, in a thick accent. "I was slain in battle under the banner of my King, and I could not have asked for a worthier end... But before I headed into the fray, I made myself a promise that, once it was all over, I would treat myself to a nice drink. A fine stout, mayhap; or a goblet of wine... Alack!" He wrings his hands even more intensely. You are half-prepared to see him tear his ghostly fingers off, and then probably plonk them back on. "Twas this promise that doomed me to haunt this mortal plane! For four hundred years, I have been wandering the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, far beyond my beloved home, seeking to quench my thirst... But no publican in any land, from Züdemark to Rodina, has ever opened their doors to me!" "Damn right they didn't!" the innkeeper spits, growing bolder by the second. "You are nothing but a public hazard! I am sure this good guard and their associate will agree with me! You... You saw how he assaulted my inn!" You frown at his tirade, thinking. [[Let the ghost have a drink->Drink with Moose]] [[Rebuke the ghost->Shoo with Moose]] [[Let the guard deal with the ghost->Moose Arrests Willem]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "If you want him gone," you say at length, "Perhaps you should offer him a drink? Maybe that will calm him down, and he will leave you be?" The innkeeper runs his fingers through his straw—colored hair. You can almost hear the clink—clink—clink of coins as, inside his sweat—drenched head, he weighs the cost of a single drink against the damage the ghost keeps causing. Once the clinking seems to arrive at the bottom line, he gulps loudly and announces his decision. "Very well. No harm in trying, I suppose. Give me a moment to fetch you a pint of... something." "Ah! Forsooth, mine wait is over!" the ghost cries, throwing his glowing arms upwards in glee. The innkeeper gives him a wordless side—eye, but does back away indoors, vanishing from view in a sea of clanking and sizzling noises. "This is what you get for actually having a conversation, instead of battering at people's doors!" you point out, left waiting for the innkeeper to re—emerge. The moose guard huffs disdainfully. "You did not think about having a conversation when you flailed your silly little... $Weapon at me," they point out. "You did not offer me much of a conversation," you snap back, for the first time during your trek uphill. Well, they started it. "No—one ever offered me a conversation either," the ghost pipes in, with a faint note of wistfulness in his voice. "Your drink! Hope that is... sufficient." The innkeeper has returned. Still wary of stepping out into the street, he passes the drink — a long, frothing flagon of something beer-like — through the window. The knight reaches for it, without touching. When the tips of his fingers are just a couple of inches away from the flagon, an outline of golden glow, similar to the one emitted by his whole being, springs up around it. It slips from the stunned, gawping innkeeper's grasp, and floats, much like enchanted lanterns, towards the ghost. The flagon inserts itself into the ghost's hand, as though he were always meant to hold it. And with his other hand, he raises the visor of his helmet, revealing an aged face, with puffy cheeks and an even puffier nose, shaped like a bolete cap. Below that nose, is a short moustache, dense as the brush you would clean shoes with. It twitches in excitement as the ghost extends his lips like a duck beak and slurps up the glowing beer. Tall as the flagon is, he is done with it in just a few long, greedy draughts. Finishing off with a burp of appreciation, he wipes his moustache and beams in contentment. "Finally... I can be at peace..." Before he has even finished speaking, his body — starting with the legs — begins to evaporate, diffusing into fine golden dust, which is then swept away by the wind. The dust consumes more and more: his chestplate, his fingers, which let go of the flagon, so that it drops to the ground, its glow extinguished... His throat, too, and finally, his head, which nods at you in gratitude before it melts and nothing remains but a few lingering specks of dust. (set: $GhostStatus to "MovedOn") The innkeeper scratches his head. "Well. That is that, then. Good riddance! I... I suppose a reward is in order." You open your mouth to respond — but before you can either accept or reject the innkeeper's offer, the moose guard intercedes, thrusting their arm forward with an open palm. "No need. I get plenty of lunkas as salary, from the taxes you pay the Princess. And this traveler is under my supervision."(set: $GotReward to false) "Ah," says the innkeeper, looking very pleased that he did not actually have to share a reward with you. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You never thought a human would look so... cat-like.] "Then I thank you for your service." He gives the two of you one last silent thumbs-up of farewell, and then vanishes, slamming the shutters behind him — no doubt eager to tell everyone at the inn the good news. It is time to move on — but the moose still lingers in the same spot, scratching their chin. "I have never actually encountered a haunting before..." they murmur. Their gaze is still burning into the shutters as though they were trying to peel the patterns off them with sheer force of thought. "Maybe I should go in there, question the public... Write a report..." They inhale resolutely and turn to you. "I think I will part ways with you now. You... You dealt with that ghost well, and I suppose I can finally trust you to deliver this news of yours to the Princess." [["You could have let me have my reward!"->Moose Option 1]] [["I told you you could trust me!"->Moose Option 2]] [["Thank you"->Moose Option 3]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} After giving it a little thought, you fold your arms on your chest(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ and ruffle your fur,(if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[baring your teeth slightly](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[flattening your ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[tilting your head to prime your horns for attack](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[tilting your head to prime your antler for attack]](if:$Race is "Dryad")[ and rustle your $DryadHead in disapproval]. "I agree with the innkeeper. Nobody has let you in because you act too terrifying. You do not deserve that drink." The moose strikes the ground with the dull end of their halberd, in enthusiastic agreement. "I don't know how things were four hundred years ago, but now there are laws about being drunk and disorderly. So either you leave, or I arrest you." You question the wisdom of trying to arrest a ghost... But surprisingly, either your rebuke or the guard's threat seems to work. After holding a very tense pause, Ser Willem merely sighs, shoulders sagging. "Ah. Mayhap you are right. 'This unbecoming of me. No-one ever dared tell me that to my face for all these years... They must have been afraid. Much to think on. Much to think on..." (set: $GhostStatus to "Friend") With that, still slouching dejectedly till his hands almost scrape against the ground, he trundles away — until he hits the wall of a nearby building. Without stopping, he submerges into the solid wood as if it were a pile of soft sawdust, and vanishes, nary a trace of him left. "Well, at least he is gone," the innkeeper mutters. "I suppose a reward is in order. " You open your mouth to respond — but before you can either accept or reject the innkeeper's offer, the moose guard intercedes, thrusting their arm forward with an open palm. "No need. I get plenty of lunkas as salary, from the taxes you pay the Princess. And this traveler is under my supervision."(set: $GotReward to false) "Ah," says the innkeeper, looking very pleased that he did not actually have to share a reward with you. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You never thought a human would look so... cat-like.] "Then I thank you for your service." He gives the two of you one last silent thumbs-up of farewell, and then vanishes, slamming the shutters behind him — no doubt eager to tell everyone at the inn the good news. It is time to move on — but the moose still lingers in the same spot, scratching their chin. "I have never actually encountered a haunting before..." they murmur. Their gaze is still burning into the shutters as though they were trying to peel the patterns off them with sheer force of thought. "Maybe I should go in there, question the public... Write a report..." They inhale resolutely and turn to you. "I think I will part ways with you now. You... You dealt with that ghost well, and I suppose I can finally trust you to deliver this news of yours to the Princess." [["You could have let me have my reward!"->Moose Option 1]] [["I told you you could trust me!"->Moose Option 2]] [["Thank you"->Moose Option 3]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "Friend") The innkeeper seems to be addressing the moose rather than you. So, upon quick consideration, you step aside. It's the guard's job to deal with things like these. So let them do their job. Grab someone else instead of you for a change. The moose takes the cue all too well. With their halberd on the ready, they stride up to the ghost and say, "So you have been harassing good townspeople like this for four hundred years? I wonder how much bounty you've racked up, and in how many kingdoms." The ghost scratches his chin, without taking off his helmet. "Hmm... The doors of most dwellings I encountered fell to these hands of mine with ease... And I may have induced a weakness of the heart, with groans and redness in the face and falls to the ground, in some people that beheld me..." "Are you saying you caused innocent citizens to have a heart attack?" the moose rephrases his lofty language, loudly, brusquely, and with very little patience. The ghost places a hand on his heart, realization falling upon his shoulders like an unseen weight. "Oh blessed moons... In my determination to fulfill my promise, I have become naught but a base vandal!" he cries out — and suddenly bends his rigid armored spine in a bow before the moose. "Oh noble guard! Do escort me to the nearest jail in this beautateous city, so that I can be punished for the damage I caused!" The innkeeper lets out a rather gloating "Whoop—whoop!" from his window. The moose attempts to grab the ghost by the shoulder, but their fingers merely sink into his glowing golden pauldron, as if they had dipped them in a jar of honey. "Wait..." they frown, jerking their hand back with their face squished in distaste. "If you can do this... How will I lock you up? Won't you just walk right back through the prison wall?" "I shall endeavor not to," the ghost says solemnly. "A knight's word of honor!" "Hrmph. We'll see about that. I'll be watching you. And as for you — " The moose dips their head to regard you suspiciously from their height. Again. "I guess we will have to part ways. I hope the palace guards are not too drunk after the feast yet. And even if they are, the Princess' druzhina will squash you like a melon if you as much as look at the her funny." "That's not what I am here for," you assure them, and with a final resigned huff, they turn and leave, the ghost gliding obediently in their wake. The innkeeper's eyes, no longer bulging in anguish, travel slowly from these two figures, ever smaller and smaller in the distance, back to you. "Well now. You probably think a reward is in order, right?" [[Accept reward->Willem Reward Yes]] [[Reject reward->Willem Reward No]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "You could have let me have my reward," you say, planting your hands on your waist. "Since you are no longer supervising me and all. You may make do with your salary, but I am an independent adventurer, aren't I?" "Don't push it," the moose guard points their finger at you warningly. "I may just change my mind again!" They say something else, or so you think — but by the time they finish, you are already out of earshot. Let the moose deal with their business, while you continue on with yours.(if:$GhostStatus is "Hostile")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.](if:$GhostStatus is "Friend")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.] [[Next->Night Palace]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "I told you you could trust me!" you exclaim, unable to hold back your frustration. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Honestly, it makes your whiskers bristle.] The moose guard's ears droop a little, but then perk up again. "All right, don't try to guilt me. My job is to watch out for troublemakers. Besides, I never would have actually hurt you." They give their halberd a little twirl. "This thing is mostly for show anyway." Somehow, you are not too inclined to believe them. So you shake your head and roll your eyes... And amble off into an alley before the moose can lose their temper and grab you again. Finally, they are out of your way. You huff a breath of relief and look to the top of the hill again. It is much closer now. Let the moose deal with their business, while you continue on with yours. With that settled, you can finally proceed on the final stretch of your way to the palace.(if:$GhostStatus is "Hostile")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.](if:$GhostStatus is "Friend")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.] [[Next->Night Palace]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Thank you," you say, extending your hand in reconciliation. Gruff as this guard is, you cannot really fault them for being wary of random travelers that go around blathering about taint in the water. The moose takes your hand, and shakes it with a vigor that nearly dislodges your shoulder. "Best of luck to you," they say. "The Princess was supposed to have a feast today. She and her druzhina ought to still be up." "Got it. Best of luck to you too, rounding up those drunks." "Yeah..." the moose breathes out, shaking their head. They enter the inn then, to deal with their business, while you move on to deal with yours. With that settled, you can finally proceed on the final stretch of your way to the palace.(if:$GhostStatus is "Hostile")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.](if:$GhostStatus is "Friend")[.. Though a part of you does wonder if you will ever see the ghost again.][[Next->Night Palace]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The peak of the Svetloyar hill is guarded by another wall, thick and sturdy, made of pure white stone. You can just see the palace towerlets. Also white, and seemingly emitting a hazy glow under the moons, they have imposing, rectangular outlines, and are crowned by elongated wooden roofs with slanting sides. At their great height, it's hard to make out the shape of the carved adornments that crown the peak of each roof. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ But your keen night vision allows you to discern a figure of a warrior in a suit of chainmail, wrestling with a giant serpent. At a guess, this motif probably has something to do with the legendary Usonsha, mighty warrior of yore and the first Princess of Svetloyar.] (if:$Race is "Human")[You think you can discern a human figure, and something like... a worm... a giant snake?... coiling around it.](if:$Race is "Dryad")[You think you can discern a human figure, and something like... a worm... a giant snake?... coiling around it.] But lofty as the palace is, the noises coming from within are very much similar to the rowdiness in the inns in the more modest parts of the city. There is clearly a feast in full swing. The in the white wall are thrown wide open, and the palace guards are either too busy parting the feisty crowds of late—night drinkers that come stumbling in and out. more often than not, really well— dressed. Some guards are half—dozing themselves, cradling a mug of mead as if it were a stuffed animal. Frankly, you are quite a bit relieved that you won't have to suffer through a repetition of your confrontation with the guards at the city gates. Instead, you just covertly duck under the halberd of some snoring bearded fellow, take a short march across the cobbled inner courtyard, and step inside the palace’s entry hall. Now you just have to follow the voices — which echo throughout the palace, under the brightly lit vaults, covered in colorful murals of lush green vines and frolicking gryphons. Straight to the feast chamber. [[Next->Ch 5 Night]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Caressed by the slanting rays of the setting sun, pinkish like sugared berry syrup, the city thrives. (if:$Race is "Dryad")[There are many wooden buildings here, much more than you have ever seen in your life, or imagined existing in a single place. Some have so many storeys that you wonder how they have not collapsed under their own weight. You do hope that the trees that gave their lives to make building this city possible were treated with due respect.] Trying not to get too confused by all the sounds and the noises — so unlike what you were used to (if:$Race is "Human")[on your farm](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[in your small town](if:$Race is "Dryad")[in your grove], you decide to stick to a broad street that, as far as common sense tells you, should take you uphill. And apparently, it cuts across a market square. All around you, there are people hurrying to complete their daily chores. A (either: "bulky", "round little", "towering", "tiny and bony", "long—legged") (either: "young", "old") (either: "man", "woman", "person") dressed all in (either: "brown and green", "yellow, with red patterns", "almost oddly pristine white", "earthy colors"), shoves past you, nearly knocking you off your feet. And as you backtrack, trying to keep out of the way, your heart skips a beat as you come dangerously close to stepping on the (either: "bushy", "silky", "fluffy", "rather matted") tail of a (either: "dog", "cat", "ferret", "wolf") person that has been trotting your way, with (either: "his", "her", "their") nose buried deep in a birch bark scroll with a shopping list. You think you can make out the words "Buy (either: "fish", "seasoning", "jar of pickles", "beets", "cottage cheese", "eggs") " at the top. Neither of them has time to say anything to you, though; nor you to them. In a blink, they are already gone from view, replaced by different passersby. Such is the ebb and flow of living waves in the market. And the shores that these waves crush against are the merchants' stalls. As you push, as best you can, towards the other end of the square, where the street snakes its way past the rows of buildings and further uphill, you get fragmented glimpses of the lively, rapid—fire trade exchanges. A (either: "robust", "curvy", "big—boned", "soft—looking", "slender") woman, in a bell—like (either: "dark—green", "sky—blue", "cherry—red", "polka—dotted") frock and a triangular headscarf with a bright pattern of (either: "daisies", "poppies", "drop—shaped swirls", "ripe berries", "forget—me—nots"), has raised her arms up high, demonstrating her customers a string of (either: "dried mushrooms", "dried fennel tufts", "ring—shaped crackers", "garlic clusters"). A (either: "spindly", "broad", "small") man with tightly coiled black curls and a (either: "sharp", "spade—like", "neat little", "roundly trimmed") beard, perhaps a Guest merchant, is beaming at someone who has gotten interested in one of the finely carved wooden game boards he has laid out at his stall: with chequered fields and little figurines representing tiny soldiers and kings. A talking (either: "squirrel", "hare", "beaver", "rat", "hamster") teenager — nearly human—sized, even though his non—sentient cousins are much smaller — is doing his best, calling to the good people to come look at his mother's prizewinning (either: "pumpkins", "cucumbers", "apples", "sweet peas", "gooseberries"). Another Guest merchant, an Alfr, is eagerly counting the lunkas they just earned from selling a (either: "goblet", "pendant", "ring", "set of tableware", "knife sheathe") inlaid with (either: "vivid", "shimmering", "pulsating", "swirly") (either: "purple", "turquoise", "pink", "azure", "rainbow—tinted", "amber—like") crystals, found in the deep caverns of Alfrland, where only the master Alfr jewellers and miners know the way. You scan the merchants' wares with an idle, wandering eye, and keep moving... Although at some point, you are a bit tempted. There is a stall piled high with vatrushkas: delicious, puffy sweet flatbreads with a circle of soft cottage cheese in the middle. You find yourself dragging your feet in front of it, as your stomach makes a small noise of curiosity and appreciation. You are not particularly hungry yet, but who knows how long you will stay in the city. (if:$Race is "Dryad")[And besides, you have not had much experience with human baked goods, and these vatrushka things do appear... Intriguing.] The vatrushka seller, a young woman with large (either: "blue", "gray", "hazel", "black", "brown", "green") eyes and (either: "curly", "slicked—back", "elaborately braided", "carelessly braided", "coiled") hair just barely peeking from under a shawl (either: "wrapped around her head", "tied under her chin", "spreading down to her shoulders"), notices your hesitation and peeks her head from behind the pile. "Hungry, good friend?" she asks in a singsong voice. You make a noncommittal sort of hum and reach into your pocket. (if:$GotComb is false)[Unfortunately, your search yields nothing of value but a bit of stray change and a ball of lint. You did not really intend for this to be a long journey, and did not bring any extra spending money.(if:$Race is "Dryad")[ Not that any human money at all was easy to come by at the grove; you had to borrow some from a clan member who once went to market, out of curiosity rather than necessity, to trade away some birch bark crafts he'd made in his spare time.] There are some lunkas tucked away into a hidden pouch on the inner side of your clothing. But they are for return fare, and you would rather not spend them. You sigh and shake your head. The seller responds with an understanding smile and draws away. No vatrushka for you, it seems. (set: $Hungry to true)(set: $Vatrushka to false) [[Next->Temple]]] (if:$GotComb is true)[In truth, you did not really intend for this to be a long journey, and did not bring any extra spending money. (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Not that any human money at all was easy to come by at the grove; you had to borrow some from a clan member who once went to market, out of curiosity rather than necessity, to trade away some birch bark crafts he'd made in his spare time.] There are some lunkas tucked away into a hidden pouch on the inner side of your clothing. But they are for return fare, and you would rather not spend them. Otherwise, your search yields nothing worth trading for, except... That oddly carved comb that the little man with the balalaika gave you for listening to his music. The potter's spouse did say that it might come in handy at some... vague point in the future. But you really do not see how it is relevant to the blight in the water. You can't just comb that malignant black tar away, can you? [[Barter the comb away->Barter Comb]] [[Keep the comb->Keep Comb]] ]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Still (if:$Vatrushka is false)[thinking sadly of the delicious snack you could have had,](if:$Vatrushka is true)[munching blissfully at your vatrushka,] you pass underneath the walls of the great temple. This is of the city's main sights, which you have heard about even (if:$Race is "Human")[on your remote farm](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[in your little town](if:$Race is "Dryad")[in your faraway grove]. Seeing it in real life, up close, makes your heart freeze for a beat or two(if:$Vatrushka is true)[ (and you hurry to swallow your last mouthful, so as not to spoil your impression with loud nom—noming)]. The temple's five huge, round domes — one for the sun, three for his sister moons, and one for the most important being of all, the life—giving Mother Earth — burn in the last rays of the sun. Like five beacons: fiery gold, sparkling amethyst, glowing pearl, shimmering silver, and richest green. You throw back your head to take them in. Your vision goes blurred, as you begin to tear up in their reflective haze... Or perhaps there is a touch of reverence? [[Ask for a blessing from Mother Earth and the Celestial Siblings->Blessing]] [[Do not ask for a blessing. You do not believe in such things->No Blessing]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Hungry to false)(set: $Vatrushka to true)(set: $GotComb to false) You squint at the comb for one last time and then nearly slam it down into the stall. Time to put this creepy thing at least to some use. "I don't have much money, but I can trade you for this." The seller leans forward, picks up the comb, and twirls it in her hands. The carvings with the bleeding people trapped in vines appear to startle her: she squashes her chin and rounds her eyes, nearly tossing the comb aside. But its teeth are sturdy and the wood is hale and well—polished — so in the end, she does accept. "Very well. You have a deal. Pick one vatrushka and, um... Have a good day!" You grasp you prize and, with relish that only seems to grow the more you bite off, sink your teeth into the sweet dough. The seller smiles, a bit thinly, as you "Ooh" at her in enthusiasm, through a mouth full of cottage cheese. Walking away, you can still see her turning the comb over and over again. Well, this puzzle is hers to solve now. At least you got a snack out of it. [[Next->Temple]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You still have not figured out the comb's secret, but it could be imbued with sila. If not, you could always look past its... creepiness (if:$Race is "Human")[and use it for combing your hair.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ and use it for combing your fur.](if:$Race is "Dryad")[ And even if you don't have "hair" to be combed, a tree must have given away a bit of itself for a reason.] You give the trapped, writhing little figures one last look, and then put the comb away again, sighing and shaking your head. The seller responds with an understanding smile and draws away. No vatrushka for you, it seems.(set: $Hungry to true)(set: $Vatrushka to false) [[Next->Temple]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} As many people living in Rodina, you honor the forces of nature that shaped this land. (if:$Race is "Human")[As a human, you venerate the sun the most. It is his rays that chase away the dark of the winter, his warmth that awakens the land, his endless journey through the sky that marks the seasons: the time for sowing and for plowing, for stepping under the bright sky to embrace the day, and hiding away from the night, or from the lifeless cold, or from the scorching rage of the summer. You turn your thoughts to him, and ask him to bless your quest. May the Princess heed your warning, and may the great warriors and wise advisors and sila wielders at her court find a way to cleanse the water, before that strange taint spreads from your farm to all of Rodina, and maybe the other kingdoms as well.] (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[As Beastfolk, your foremost guardians are the Sestritsy, the sun's three sisters and the guardians of the night sky. It is their phases that affect certain types of sila, and it is from their velvet—dark plane that the shooting stars fell, touching the minds of your ancestors. You turn your thoughts to them, to the Sestritsy, and ask them to bless your quest. May the Princess heed your warning, and may the great warriors and wise advisors and sila wielders at her court find a way to cleanse the water, before that strange taint spreads from your farm to all of Rodina, and maybe the other kingdoms as well.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[As a dryad, you are sustained by Mother Earth. Her soil, black and rich, gives sustenance to all that grows, from the tiniest wild strawberry on its little sprig, hiding away under a lace—like leaf, to the mightiest oak tree. And the Great Birch Grove, which you are lucky enough to call home, truly has to be one of her greatest creations. You turn your thoughts to her, and ask her to bless your quest. May the Princess heed your warning, and may the great warriors and wise advisors and sila wielders at her court find a way to cleanse the water, before that strange taint spreads from your farm to all of Rodina, and maybe the other kingdoms as well.] And with this renewed hope, you leave the temple behind you. [[Next->Guards on Hill]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} It is true that a lot of people around Rodina — and quite further beyond, you imagine — bow to the forces of nature. But mighty as they are, you highly doubt that they ever listen. So you leave the temple behind you, passing it by as you would any other building. Though, admittedly, it is quite pretty. [[Next->Guards on Hill]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} From here, it's just a short climb to the peak of the Svetloyar hill. It is guarded by another wall, thick and sturdy, made of pure white stone. You can just see the palace towerlets. Also white, and seemingly emitting a hazy glow, they have imposing, rectangular outlines, and are crowned by elongated wooden roofs with slanting sides. At their great height, it's hard to make out the shape of the carved adornments that crown the peak of each roof. You think you can discern a human figure, and something like... a worm... a giant snake?... coiling around it.(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ But your keen vision allows you to discern a figure of a warrior in a suit of chainmail, wrestling with a giant serpent. At a guess, this motif probably has something to do with the legendary Usonsha, mighty warrior of yore and the first Princess of Svetloyar.] As you step into the shadow of those towerlets, you find your way barred by two crossed halberds. The gate in the white wall is manned — or womanned, rather — by a pair guards in chainmail helmets, pointy at the top,a little bit like the towers behind their back. The taller guard (much, much taller) is a snow leopard, built perfectly for her job: her muscles bulge through her sleek, dappled coat like overripe apples. The other guard, almost cub—sized by comparison, is a (either: "plump", "lean", "stocky", "bony") human with (either: "dark blond", "chestnut", "jet—black", "vivid ginger") (either: "hair", "pigtails", "curls", "braid loops") and (either: "a strong jaw", "freckles all over her face", "a small moustache over her upper lip", "a scar across her cheek", "a deep dimple on her chin", "a reddish birthmark on her forehead"). "Who are you?" the leopard demands, gripping her halberd so tightly that you wonder if it will fall apart into splinters if she lets it go. "Do you have good reason to seek audience with the Princess?" (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You inhale, (if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[ feeling your tail swish in anguish](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[pressing your tail between your legs]. It has been such a long day that the reason why you came here has rolled to the back of your mind, like a pebble kicked by a careless foot. But now it has returned, massive, heavy as a boulder. "I am $Name, from the town of Bulochkin," you say to the guard, struggling to steady your breath as you think back to your grandfather. Hopefully, he hasn't gotten worse.] (if:$Race is "Human")[You tilt your head to look into the leopard's unyielding yellow eyes, and purse your lips, trying to contain your agitation. It has been such a long day that the reason why you came here has rolled to the back of your mind, like a pebble kicked by a careless foot. But now it has returned, massive, heavy as a boulder. "I am $Name, from the Zolotoye farmstead," you say to the guard, struggling to steady your breath as you think back to the folk at your farm, hoping that they have been staying away from that cursed watering hole.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[The $DryadHead on your head rustle in anguish. It has been such a long day that the reason why you came here has rolled to the back of your mind, like a pebble kicked by a careless foot. But now it has returned, massive, heavy as a boulder. "I am $Name, from the Great Birch Grove," you say to the guard, struggling to steady your breath as you think back to your elder, and all the other living things in the grove. What if that barren patch, and that odd tainted stream, has been spreading further?] "We found some odd... blight in our water. The Princess needs to hear of this. Personally." The guard does not appear too convinced. She readjusts her halberd, no longer blocking your path, but tilting it in your direction. Her partner tries to mirror the motion as well, though her attempt to keep the weapon balanced turns a bit wobbly. The tension brews, dense like a rich potato soup — but you are not going to boil in it forever! You have things to do! There has to be some way to make these two budge, so you can see the Princess already. [[You have a sword, and won't hesitate to use it->Attack with Sword Day]] [[You have a bow, and won't hesitate to use it->Attack with Bow Day]] [[You have a walking stick, and won't hesitate to use it->Attack with Stick Day]] [[You have a sword, but you would rather not use it->Peace with Sword Day]] [[You have a bow, but you would rather not use it->Peace with Bow Day]] [[You have a walking stick, but you would rather not use it->Peace with Stick Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Sword")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty sword. (if:$Race is "Human")[It's a family heirloom, left behind from a great—great—uncle or some such, who used to adventure with the pointy—eared Alfr in his youth, venturing through the Great Birch Grove and beyond. The family set it aside in case bandits attacked the farmstead — and now it is in your hands. ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You asked a neighbor of your grandfather's, one of the many master bakers of Bulochkin, and the daughter of Guests, to lend it to you. She was hesitant at first, a brown touching her usually kindly dark—brown face. That sword used to be on display in the pride of place in her living room, polished to mirror perfection at all times... And she sure did love telling the story of how a passing soldier had so fallen in love with her fish kulebyaka that he traded his sword for a recipe. But in the end, she caved. "I saw how that water hurt your poor grandpappy," she told you. "I suppose you need this more than I do. Good luck on your journey!" So now, the sword is in your hands. ] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Metal weapons are hard to come by in the grove, but miraculously, another one of your elders, whose trunk—like body hard grown twice a human's height over her three—and—something centuries walking the earth, still had a blade lodged somewhere in her side. A souvenir from a grand battle she had taken part in as a sapling about your age. It did not particularly bother her, and she even showed it off to youngsters, like one would show off a scar. But the elder that had gotten injured in the black stream is a dear friend of hers, and she did not hesitate for a moment before turning her mossy back to you and allowing you to pull the "that old iron splinter" out. After much tugging and grunting and huffing and puffing, the sword passed to you.] Spreading your legs apart, bent in the knee in an aggressive stance, (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[and feeling your hackles rise, ](if:$Race is "Dryad")[while the green tendrils on your head writhe and bristle,] you are ready to whip the sword out its sheathe and show this leopard and her pal what for if they don't let you pass! Deciding to focus on the leopard, as the bigger, more formidable obstacle, you cry out and lunge at her — but she parries your blow easily, with just one hand. Your blade digs into the halberd's shaft, making it bristle with splinters. It is stuck fast, no matter how viciously you tug at it, helping yourself with your knees. And while you are busy trying to dislodge your blade, the leopard flashes the claws of her free hand, catching at the front of your clothes. Granted, the claws do not even graze your body — but hooking them, steely hard and unyielding, within the fabric allows the leopard to lift you off the floor. She hoists you up, so that your face is level with her snarl, and leaves you hanging in suspense. Figuratively and literally. [[Next->Post-Attack Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Bow")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty bow. (if:$Race is "Human")[Back on the farm, you did not use it for much except trying to scare away the crows that had made it their life's mission to mess with your crops. Or maybe going on an occasional rabbit chase with your friends in the little aspen copse behind the homestead. It is a plaything more than a weapon, really — but nonetheless, you thought that grabbing it on your way to Svetloyar would not hurt. And now, cornered by the guards, you reach for the bow and the little makeshift quiver that comes with it.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[...Well, you hope that it's trusty, at least. It came into your possession entirely by accident. Just after discovering the taint in the water, you and your grandfather bumped into some noisy passersby in the street. A motley bunch: a couple of humans, a lynx person, even a pointy-eared Alfr with a glistening, dark-grey face and messy white hair. On their belts, they carried bows and arrows and snares; in their hands, they were clutching wineskins; and none of them was fully sober. They had to be hunters, coming to Bulochkin to sell their catch to bakers that wanted to make mince pies... And throw a hearty celebration with the lunkas they'd earned. One of the hunters, a human with a flush across their face, spotted your grandfather's injured hand and practically shoved their bow against his chest. "Go shh..." they slurred, raising an emphatic finger. "Go shoot whom—mev.. who—ev... whomst did this to you!" The other hunters cried "Hear hear!" and then staggered all together down the street. You do not know if that human ever regretted giving away their bow once they sobered up, but regardless. You have it now, and are in a good mind to use it.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You fashioned it, along with a few arrows to match, out of the branches you took from the trees in the grove, thanking them for their sacrifice as the elders taught you. Crafting a bow is usually a lengthy process, but a clan member kindly sped it up for you, knowing that you were leaving the shelter of the grove for the greater, more confusing, often treacherous world. That clan member has been touched by sila. So all he had to do was hover his hand over the largest branch in the little heap you'd gathered, and threads of pale blue light spun around it, faster and faster, each as fine as the edge of a blade: chiseling, polishing, carving. In a few moments, a finished bow emerged; you took it with you for protection — and now it seems that the time has come to use it.] It quickly dawns on you, however, that you won't even be able to draw the string properly at such close range. So instead, you just have to wave the arrow threateningly, clasped in your fist... In hopes that, perhaps, you might jab either guard somewhere — in the knee, maybe, or in the eye if you are feeling particularly bloodthirsty — and make them back off. The leopard guard is not impressed with your flailing. She draws a long, rumbling breath at the back of her throat, and, without the tiniest bit of strain in her massive muscles, simply flicks the arrow out of your grasp with the pointy metal spike attached to the front end of her halberd. As you watch your arrow hurtle into the grass somewhere, the leopard flashes the claws on her free hand. A single, blurry lunge of her arm — and you feel her grip tighten around the folds in the front of your clothes. Granted, the claws do not even graze your body — but hooking them, steely hard and unyielding, within the fabric allows the leopard to lift you off the floor. She hoists you up, so that your face is level with her snarl, and leaves you hanging in suspense. Figuratively and literally [[Next->Post-Attack Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Stick")You are no fighter; never have been. On your travels, you have not brought along any weapons. Just a trusty walking stick. And to be entirely honest, it's not even a proper walking stick. It's just a fallen wood branch that you picked up on the side of the road as you were leaving (if:$Race is "Human")[the farmstead](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[your hometown](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the grove]. You are not sure how well it will fare against a halberd — it will probably splinter apart within half a second — but perhaps it will pack enough damage if you use it for a kick in the shins. You take a breath, set your aim as best you can, and, dodging the halberd, slam your walking stick into the leopard guard's fuzzy, chunky lower legs where they peek from under the chainmail. While (if:$Race is "Human")[the Beastfolk's ](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the Beastfolk's ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[your kin's ]upper limbs look a lot like human arms, except with fur, their legs usually end in claws or hooves. And apparently, the guard has not found any boots to pack her claws in, which could make her vulnerable... Or not. ...On second thoughts, you should probably have gone for your fellow human. When your walking stick hits her, the leopard does not even flinch. She only huffs a long breath, her whiskers stiffening, and flashes the long, also claw—like, nails on her free hand. A single, blurry lunge of her arm — and you feel her grip tighten around the folds in the front of your clothes. So suddenly that you let go of your walking stick. Granted, the claws do not even graze your body — but hooking them, steely hard and unyielding, within the fabric allows the leopard to lift you off the floor. She hoists you up, so that your face is level with her snarl, and leaves you hanging in suspense. Figuratively and literally. [[Next->Post-Attack Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Sword")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty sword. (if:$Race is "Human")[It's a family heirloom, left behind from a great—great—uncle or some such, who used to adventure with the pointy—eared Alfr in his youth, venturing through the Great Birch Grove and beyond. The family set it aside in case bandits attacked the farmstead — and now it is in your hands. ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You asked a neighbor of your grandfather's, one of the many master bakers of Bulochkin, and the daughter of Guests, to lend it to you. She was hesitant at first, a brown touching her usually kindly dark—brown face. That sword used to be on display in the pride of place in her living room, polished to mirror perfection at all times... And she sure did love telling the story of how a passing soldier had so fallen in love with her fish kulebyaka that he traded his sword for a recipe. But in the end, she caved. "I saw how that water hurt your poor grandpappy," she told you. "I suppose you need this more than I do. Good luck on your journey!" So now, the sword is in your hands. ] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Metal weapons are hard to come by in the grove, but miraculously, another one of your elders, whose trunk—like body hard grown twice a human's height over her three—and—something centuries walking the earth, still had a blade lodged somewhere in her side. A souvenir from a grand battle she had taken part in as a sapling about your age. It did not particularly bother her, and she even showed it off to youngsters, like one would show off a scar. But the elder that had gotten injured in the black stream is a dear friend of hers, and she did not hesitate for a moment before turning her mossy back to you and allowing you to pull the "that old iron splinter" out. After much tugging and grunting and huffing and puffing, the sword passed to you.] But the reason why you armed yourself before setting out was to defend yourself from bandits, or wild beasts, or some of those creatures that lurk in the night and drag away unwary travelers to drain them of blood. You have no quarrel with these guards — and even though your fingers brush momentarily over your sword's hilt, you instead raise your hand and say, "Please. I am telling the truth. Let me into the city. I have to see the Princess!" The leopard deigns to set her halberd aside and folds her massive arms on her chest. She still seems not particularly keen on believing you — and the rounded, fluffy black—and—white tip of her tail nigh hammers against the floor. [[Next->Post-Peace Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Weapon to "Bow")On your travels, you have brought along a trusty bow. (if:$Race is "Human")[Back on the farm, you did not use it for much except trying to scare away the crows that had made it their life's mission to mess with your crops. Or maybe going on an occasional rabbit chase with your friends in the little aspen copse behind the homestead. It is a plaything more than a weapon, really — but nonetheless, you thought that grabbing it on your way to Svetloyar would not hurt.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[...Well, you hope that it's trusty, at least. It came into your possession entirely by accident. Just after discovering the taint in the water, you and your grandfather bumped into some noisy passersby in the street. A motley bunch: a couple of humans, a lynx person, even a pointy-eared Alfr with a glistening, dark-grey face and messy white hair. On their belts, they carried bows and arrows and snares; in their hands, they were clutching wineskins; and none of them was fully sober. They had to be hunters, coming to Bulochkin to sell their catch to bakers that wanted to make mince pies... And throw a hearty celebration with the lunkas they'd earned. One of the hunters, a human with a flush across their face, spotted your grandfather's injured hand and practically shoved their bow against his chest. "Go shh..." they slurred, raising an emphatic finger. "Go shoot whom—mev.. who—ev... whomst did this to you!" The other hunters cried "Hear hear!" and then staggered all together down the street. You do not know if that human ever regretted giving away their bow once they sobered up, but regardless. You have it now.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You fashioned it, along with a few arrows to match, out of the branches you took from the trees in the grove, thanking them for their sacrifice as the elders taught you. Crafting a bow is usually a lengthy process, but a clan member kindly sped it up for you, knowing that you were leaving the shelter of the grove for the greater, more confusing, often treacherous world. That clan member has been touched by sila. So all he had to do was hover his hand over the largest branch in the little heap you'd gathered, and threads of pale blue light spun around it, faster and faster, each as fine as the edge of a blade: chiseling, polishing, carving. In a few moments, a finished bow emerged; and it has been your companion ever since.] But the reason you did so was to defend yourself from bandits, or wild beasts, or some of those creatures that lurk in the night and drag away unwary travelers to drain them of blood. You have no quarrel with these guards — and even though your fingers brush momentarily over your quiver, you instead raise your hand and say, "Please. I am telling the truth. Let me into the city. I have to see the Princess!" The leopard deigns to set her halberd aside and folds her massive arms on her chest. She still seems not particularly keen on believing you — and the rounded, fluffy black—and—white tip of her tail nigh hammers against the floor. [[Next->Post-Peace Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Wait!" the human guard cries out. "Please don't do anything brash! Maybe this traveler is just desperate! I would be if I found blight in the water!" The leopard growls, and clenches your clothes just a tiny bit tighter. "Are you saying we should trust $PronounGen?" "M-maybe you can head inside together?" the human suggests. "You can watch over $PronounGen in case of any funny business, and... and grab $PronounGen like that again if the Princess is threatened? I will handle the rest of the watch!" The leopard scrapes at the ground with her clawed, bootless foot. "I suppose if there really is some sort of blight, we can't risk the Princess not knowing. All right, I will take this little lunatic to her. Do not get distracted." She sets you down, but the halberd still remains in her grasp. She motions you with it to move through the gates, and there is little choice but to go where she points. [[Next->Corridor With Leo]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Um," the human guard pipes in, her eyes huge and round. "I kind of believe this traveler... Maybe we should let $PronounGen pass?" The leopard hisses to herself, all of her gigantic being radiating reluctance. "I mean, $PronounNom did say please?" the other guard insists, a bit bolder this time. "Have you ever heard a... I don't know... a robber after the royal riches... say please?" "An assassin can say please and then sneak in and stab the Princess," the leopard points out, tail lashing more forcefully than ever. "But fine. The Princess' druzhina has been out and about all day, getting ready for that feast to welcome the new member..." "I am sure you will be accepted in the druzhina soon!" the human squeaks, so obsequiously that listening to hear sounds like nails against glass. "You just need... Your own dragon to slay! Which you will! You are the strongest of us all!" The leopard rolls her eyes — though she cannot contain a quiet purr at the flattery. "Anyway. As I was saying." She sets you down and shoves your sword/arrow/walking stick back into your arms, nearly knocking you over. "The druzhina is out and about, and they will squash you like a melon if you as much as look at the her funny. So. Remember that. Welcome to the royal palace." "Yay," the human guard finishes, rather weakly. You give the two of them a side—eye and amble through the gates and across the inner courtyard, determined to dive inside the palace as quickly as possible, before the guards change their mind. [[Next->Corridor]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} So, you tell yourself when you step under the roof of the entrance hall and realize that there are several corridors branching out under the palace's brightly lit vaults — all covered in colorful murals of lush green vines and frolicking gryphons. The leopard said there was a feast about to happen? Which means that you just have to find the... feast chamber. Shouldn't be too hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot other guards, trotting back and forth along the corridors, with their chainmail jingling faintly. But you would rather not ask them for directions. Each new confrontation with them will only slow you down. The most sensible route to take, you decide, is the broadest, most lavishly decorated passageway. Lined with a red carpet, no less. So off you go, your feet sinking into muffling softness, while the figures in the murals gaze upon you from either side. Instead of gryphons, there are now humans: you spot a scene with a young girl, ruddy—cheeked and with light blonde braided hair, almost the color of buttercups, standing on a balcony with carved wooden railing, probably somewhere at this very palace. She is looking over the vivid green foothills of Svetloyar, and the tiny clusters of log houses with smoke that rises from the chimneys in silver threads, and the golden stripes and squares of the fields beyond. This has to be the Princess herself, when she was younger. There is an inscription over her head, black like the ink that traces the general outline of her figure, and the railing, and pretty much everything except for the background. It says, Zabava, which is the Princess' first name. And the man standing behind the Princess, making a broad gesture in the direction of the distant fields, must be her uncle, the late Prince that held the throne before her. You glance at his face, neatly framed by a beard and shoulder-length curls, and hurry on further... Not much further, though. There is a small crowd gathered right in front of you, filling up the corridor with no space to eel past. And hardly any space to think even, with all the clamor of raised voices and agitated arm-flapping. [[Next->Servant Encounter]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Under the leopard's watchful eye, you step under the roof of the entrance hall. There are several corridors branching out under the palace's brightly lit vaults — all covered in colorful murals of lush green vines and frolicking gryphons. You hover in place for a second, and an irrational fear of getting lost, when you are so close, pounds against the aching, pulsing lining of your stomach. You quickly snap out of it, though, when you hear the jingle of the leopard's chainmail. "The feast chamber is that way," she says curtly, jabbing a clawed finger at the broadest, most lavishly decorated passageway. Lined with a red carpet, no less. So down that passageway you go, slanting your eyes at the leopard's halberd now and again, wary of being skewered on its pointy end, or slashed at with its axe blade. But at least this giant toothy woman is useful for one thing. There are other guards, trotting back and forth along the corridors. They give you dark looks when they spot you, scowling under their helmets — but the leopard assuages their suspicions. "It's all right, $PronounNom $PronounVerbPresent with me!" she says, and they nod and proceed with their rounds. Thank the moons. Each new confrontation with them would have only slowed you down. You walk on and on, in the leopard's shadow, your feet sinking into muffling softness, while the figures in the murals gaze upon you from either side. Instead of gryphons, there are now humans: you spot a scene with a young girl, ruddy—cheeked and with light blonde braided hair, almost the color of buttercups, standing on a balcony with carved wooden railing, probably somewhere at this very palace. She is looking over the vivid green foothills of Svetloyar, and the tiny clusters of log houses with smoke that rises from the chimneys in silver threads, and the golden stripes and squares of the fields beyond. This has to be the Princess herself, when she was younger. There is an inscription over her head, black like the ink that traces the general outline of her figure, and the railing, and pretty much everything except for the background. It says, Zabava, which is the Princess' first name. And the man standing behind the Princess, making a broad gesture in the direction of the distant fields, must be her uncle, the late Prince that held the throne before her. You glance at his face, neatly framed by a beard and shoulder—length curls, and hurry on further (especially since the leopard snaps at you, "I thought you were here with an urgent message, not for sightseeing!”). Not much further, though. [[Next->Servants with Leo]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} As far as you can tell, all the people that have crammed in here — humans for the most part, with quite a few Beastfolk as well — are dressed in similar berry-red sarafans and shirts. With headbands to match. Palace servants in uniform, maybe. And in the midst of them all, is a figure that stands out in a most... unsettling way. For one thing, it radiates a bright honey—gold glow, making it look like a blob of flower pollen, surrounded by the servants in red as petals of a giant blossom. And here's another thing: you can see the servants at the back through the golden figure. Not too clearly, true, but nonetheless. On top of it all, as you stand on tiptoe and attempt to make out more of the figure's features — it's a woman, as far as you can tell, in a many—layered patchwork dress and a sizeable kokoshnik on her head — you realize that her feet, or, for that matter, the ruffles along the rim of her dress, are touching the ground. And there can only be one explanation, can there? It's a ghost. The palace servants are being haunted by a ghost. More than that, you will likely be unable to continue on your way until it (she?) is dealt with. [[Draw your weapon->Attack Grusha]] [[Listen to the conversation->Listen to Grusha]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "Hostile")Well, there is one sure way to banish a ghost. And to save these poor people from... whatever grizzly fate that floating woman is plotting for them. "Stand aside!" you cry out, (if:$Weapon is "Sword")[pulling your sword from its sheathe with a loud whoosh](if:$Weapon is "Bow")[taking a few steps back to fire your bow](if:$Weapon is "Stick")[twirling your walking stick in your grip... with what you really hope looks like deadly elegance]. The servants fall quiet, and a few of them do try to shuffle off. You could get a chance to strike at the ghost now, and you break into a run, sword/stick on the ready/draw back the string. Except one particular servant seems to have different plans. They are a short, feisty, bristly—haired human that looks like they caught gender stealing eggs in the chicken coop and chased it off with a broom. When they realize what you are about to do, they fling their arms up and scream at the top of their lungs, "What are you doing, you damn horseradish?! That's Auntie Grusha!" With that, they toss themself in front of the glowing woman, shielding her from your blade/arrow/stick. You had no intent to cause them any harm — but it is too late. You have already gained momentum / your fingers have already uncurled, releasing the arrow. Before you know it, your blade slices at the servant's shoulder, ripping through their smart red shirt and leaving a thread—thin scratch. Before you know it, your arrow whooshes past the servant, grazing their ear and leaving a shallow, yet bleeding mark. Before you know it, your stick traces an arch through the air, socking the servant in the eye. The ghost woman, Auntie Grusha, seems as protective of the servant as they are of her. To put it mildly. Seeing them injured — even though they brush her off with "Hey, hey, I am fine" — she draws herself up to her full height... Which, somehow, keeps growing. And growing. And growing. Till her head touches the ceiling, and her round wrinkled face looms over the servants' heads like a second sun... A wrathful sun, like during the hottest summer months. Split crosswise by a broad, snarling mouth, full of razor—sharp teeth. "You hurt Motya!" Grusha wails, her eyes flashing red. "Motenka! Motyushka! Motyushechka!" These are meant to be endearing pet names (and like any pet names coming from an old lady, they make Motya the servant cringe in embarrassment). But they cut through the air like whip lashes, as the ghost reaches for you past the servants. Like her face, her golden hands have transformed: the gnarly, callused fingers have elongated beyond all human proportion, and sprouted claws. She almost grabs you, almost pierces you — but another servant, a (either: "human", "rabbit", "doe", "sheep") girl, intervenes, pulling shyly at the rim of her sleeve. "Please, Auntie Grusha! It was an accident! This stranger probably did not know you were a nice ghost! He/she/they must have wanted to protect Motya, not hurt them!" "I did!" you cry, desperately, out of space to back away from the ghost's claws. "I really did! I am sorry I poked at you/gave you a black eye!" "And I am sorry I called you a horseradish," Motya sighs, running their hand through their hair to smooth down the bristles. "It's just... Auntie Grusha is very important to us, see? She used to be the royal klyuchnitsa — housekeeper — and she has stayed on to help us after... you know..." The ghost shrinks a couple of sizes, drawing her claws back. "You see, Auntie?" the girl says. "It's all right! Come on, Motya, I will get something for your bruise/that scratch." The servants begin to disperse. Some of them keep squinting at you with unspoken, but very tangible, displeasure, which seems to grip at your throat. You cannot help but mouth a few more awkward apologies. The ghost, now back to her initial form, still glares at you. "I need to calm down," she says finally. "But I will remember this!" Her eyes, no longer red, but disapproving, are still boring deep into you when her ruffles begin to fade away, tier by tier, like the square of golden sunlight on the floor when you begin to draw the curtains. Her now disembodied head hovers for a bit in front of you, scowling, but gradually follows suit. Your path is clear now — and judging by the hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery, the feast chamber is straight ahead. You can finally see the Princess — even though you are pretty sure that there quite a few people in the palace that dislike you now. Including the late klyuchnitsa. [[Next->Ch 5 Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your first idea is to charge in, maybe with a war cry, and banish the ghost by any means possible. But you push it out of your mind, biting down your tongue. The ghost doesn't seem to be attacking the servants; maybe it is not a haunting, but more like... a visitation. For now, you decide to listen and observe. As you focus your attention, you manage to snatch a couple of distinct voices out of this tangled mess of noise. One of them seems to belong to a short, feisty, bristly—haired human servant, who looks like they caught gender stealing eggs in the chicken coop and chased it off with a broom. They are flailing their arms the most actively out of this bunch. "Come on!" they cry, pointing at the ghost. "Auntie Grusha has been kind enough to stay on after... you know... and help us! We aren't seriously gonna refuse her? Don't we have your hands full with the feast and all?" "Thank you, Motya," the ghost (whose name is apparently Auntie Grusha) coos, the wrinkles on her glowing face gathering into a smile. "You were always so appreciative of me." "B-but..." another servant, a (either: "human", "rabbit", "doe", "sheep") girl, points out, playing with the rim of her sleeve. " Isn't it wrong to use a ghost like this?" "It isn't using if she refuses to move on!" Motya argues. "Either we accept her help, or make her miserable! And who knows what will happen then!" Auntie Grusha gasps, her many skirt layers ruffling in anguish. "I hear miserable ghosts can turn into horrid, corrupted wraiths! I don't want that to happen to me! Please sweeties, let me stay in the palace, as I always did! Didn't I make a good housekeeper? A good klyuchnitsa? I can still do that! Look!" She makes a strained grimace — and with a sudden pop, several new arms spring up from under her ruffles on her right side, each laden with the paraphernalia a housekeeper would need to do her work. A duster here, a tray with wine goblets there; a ring of many—sized keys; a mop; a ladle; a long pole with a cap at the end, for putting out candles. All of these objects appear molded from the same golden glow as Auntie Grusha herself. Her left arm, now asymmetrically lonesome compared to the cluster of right arms, rests over her chest. She clenches her left fist, pleading. "I kind of agree with Motya," a voice from the crowd says — and another voice argues, "Well I don't! This world is not a place for ghosts! She should move on, beyond the seas, to the Sestritsy's chambers!" The girl that first spoke up after Motya sighs deeply. "We are arguing in circles," she murmurs. Her voice is quiet, nearly drowned out by the others. She hangs her head, for a moment or two — but when she lifts her gaze again, her eyes meet yours. "Please, kind stranger!" she calls out, straining her lungs to bursting point to be heard. "Help us decide on this! We need an outside voice!" Well, of all things you were getting ready to do at the palace, you certainly did not expect to mediate an argument on whether or not a dead housekeeper should be allowed to... housekeep on. But this lot probably won't budge until you say something, so you have no choice but to accept your sudden new role. [[Persuade Grusha to move on->Grusha Move On]] [[Allow Grusha to stay->Grusha Stay]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "MovedOn") "Well..." you say slowly, eyeing the ghost's multiple arms. "Auntie Grusha probably worked really hard during her life, didn't she?" "You bet!" Motya chuckles. "The Princess herself said once that without Auntie Grusha, the palace would never have become as majestic as it is now! And Auntie taught us everything we know, too! Some of us, she took in from the streets after we lost our homes in that big fire what, fifteen years back? The Princess' druzhina kept pulling us out from the smoke and sending us to Grusha! You remember that, right?" "I sure do!" a bulky (either: "human", "bull", "bear", "wolf") servant booms in the deepest bass voice... Before fishing out a tiny lacey handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes. "Then the palace is in good hands," you declare firmly, suddenly finding inspiration when your eyes travel over Motya and their friends. "Look at all these fine young people you raised! I am sure they know how to keep things running! You can rest now!" The housekeeping tools vanish, bursting into clouds of golden sparks one after the other. Auntie Grusha's extra arms retract back into the ruffles, and her remaining right hand comes to rest over her chest too, interlacing with the left. Her golden eyes, huge and sparkling now, gaze at Motya. Then at the soft girl, who has gone back to fiddling with her sleeve. Then at the still sniffling gentle giant. Then at the (either: "chubby", "skinny", "dainty") chambermaid with a (either: "bun", "long braid", "short, stiff braid", "coiled braid crown") of (either: "black", "ginger", "ash—blond", "straw—colored", "chestnut") hair. And at the (either: "tall", "scrawny", "pot—bellied", "pint—sized") person with a (either "fluffy", "curling", "trimmed") moustache: the palace cook, in a grease—splattered apron over their red uniform. And at the wine—pourer, clutching a huge, deep scoop under their arm. And, and, and... There really are so many of them. And each must have personal history with this ghost. No wonder she is so reluctant to move on. Still, at long last, Auntie Grusha finishes taking in them all. Smile lines spread from the corners of her eyes like golden beams, and a glittering tear rolls down her glowing cheek. "You really are all grown—up, my little birds, aren't you? So good at what you do... I am sorry if I raised too much of a fuss... I will... Go hug the Princess now... You know I was there already, at her uncle's court, when she was a little girl... Goodbye, sweeties..." Her shining hand reaches out to ruffle Motya's hair — and then fades. As does the rest of her. Her dress unravels, inch by inch, leaving nothing behind but a few sparkles floating in thin air. The giant servant bawls even louder, and Motya bumps their fist awkwardly into his arm to comfort him (they have to stand on tiptoe for that). The soft girl smiles at you. "Thank you, kind stranger. I hope she finds peace beyond the seas". [[Next->Corals]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "Friend") "Well..." you say slowly, eyeing the ghost's multiple arms. "Does Auntie Grusha like her job?" "Doesn't she just!" Motya rolls their eyes indulgently. "You'd think the palace was her baby, the way she fawns over it. She's always been like that, in life too. Always the fussy Auntie." "Auntie to everyone," points out yet another servant, a teenage (either: "hound", "cat", "kid (as in, goat-like Beast person)", "weasel", "hamster") with a silky, diligently combed (either: "milky—white", "dappled", "molasses-colored", "inky-black") coat. "To us, to the druzhina, and to the Princess too. I'm pretty sure that the Princess will be passing laws and things all over the place if Auntie Grusha asks her nicely." "Didn't that 'No taxes for the poorest farmers' become a thing because Auntie Grusha said 'The poor sweetie's need to eat in peace'?" weighs in an Alfr in the crowd. She is wearing her white hair in a (either: "ponytail", "a pair of pigtails", "two pointy buns", " carelessly cut wave"). And while the onesie she is wearing is still red, like the servants' garb, it has random colorful patches sewn into it: green and yellow and purple and polka—dotted white; while her collar is adorned with a row of tiny bells. She must be a skomorokh: one of the countless jesters, acrobats, and actors of all creeds and colors that wander from Kingdom to Kingdom, entertaining the common folk and the nobility alike. She makes such a convincing imitation of Auntie Grusha that everyone snickers: including the ghost. And yourself. The verdict is in, then. "If Auntie Grusha is such a useful, even influential, figure around the palace, and she still wants to keep helping," you say, "Let her stay. She will probably be bored in the afterlife." Motya snorts. "Sounds about right." The housekeeping tools vanish, bursting into clouds of golden sparks one after the other. Auntie Grusha's extra arms retract back into the ruffles, and her remaining right hand comes to rest over her chest too, interlacing with the left, as she gives you a long, low bow. "Thank you for letting me stay. My home is here, not in some glimmery place at the end of the earth. And I will keep my home clean and orderly, and everyone in it happy!" She straightens her back, looking over the servants with a proud smile. "Let me check on the kitchens then; see how the feast is coming along!" Without further ado, she pops off. Literally. Dissolving into sparkles just as her extra arms did. The soft girl frowns, but still decides to thank you as well. "I... I hope she is happy at least. Thank you for helping us all decide." [[Next->Corals]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GotReward to true)(set: $Reward to "corals") You gather the beads in your fist and clutch it tight, bowing to the girl. "What a beautiful gift. I will be sure to cherish it!" The soft girl beams at you, as does Motya. The two of them join the other servants as the crowd begins to disperse. Your path is clear now — and judging by the hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery, the feast chamber is straight ahead. You can finally see the Princess. [[Next->Ch 5 Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GotReward to false) "No, no!" you wave the girl away. "I couldn't possibly! You are very kind,but I don't need a reward, really!" "Oh." She seems slightly disappointed, arching her eyebrows as she gropes around the back of her neck and secures the clasp again. "I hope you know that you did help us a lot!" "Yeah, that was grand of you!" Motya agrees, before two of them join the other servants. The crowd begins to disperse. Your path is clear now — and judging by the hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery, the feast chamber is straight ahead. You can finally see the Princess. [[Next->Ch 5 Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} There is a small crowd gathered right in front of the two of you, filling up the corridor with no space to eel past. And hardly any space to think even, with all the clamor of raised voices and agitated arm—flapping. "Huh," says the leopard, curling her lips ever so slightly. "Servants. Wonder what they are up to." You crane your neck to observe the crowd. Most of the servants (humans, primarily, with quite a few Beastfolk as well) are dressed in similar berry-red sarafans and shirts. With headbands to match. The official uniform, you guess. And in the midst of them all, is a figure that stands out in a most... unsettling way. For one thing, it radiates a bright honey—gold glow, making it look like a blob of flower pollen, surrounded by the servants in red as petals of a giant blossom. And here's another thing: you can see the servants at the back through the golden figure. Not too clearly, true, but nonetheless. On top of it all, as you stand on tiptoe and attempt to make out more of the figure's features — it's a woman, as far as you can tell, in a many—layered patchwork dress and a sizeable kokoshnik on her head — you realize that her feet, or, for that matter, the ruffles along the rim of her dress, are touching the ground. And there can only be one explanation, can there? It's a ghost. The palace servants are being haunted by a ghost. More than that, you will likely be unable to continue on your way until it (she?) is dealt with. You grasp instinctively at your weapon — but the leopard gives you a warning hiss. "No, not yet!" she whispers through her teeth. "I know that woman! Everyone at the palace does! That's Auntie Grusha! The royal housekeeper, klyuchnitsa... Always stick-up towards us guards. I didn't know she stayed on after she died. I want listen and figure out what she wants; and if someone is gonna punch her for it, it will be me." You sulk a little, incensed by the thought that the ghost is given the benefit of the doubt, while you weren't. But you do comply. As you focus your attention, you manage to snatch a couple of distinct voices out of this tangled mess of noise. One of them seems to belong to a short, feisty, bristly—haired human servant, who looks like they caught gender stealing eggs in the chicken coop and chased it off with a broom. They are flailing their arms the most actively out of this bunch. "Come on!" they cry, pointing at the ghost. "Auntie Grusha has been kind enough to stay behind and help us! We aren't seriously gonna refuse her? Don't we have your hands full with the feast and all?" "Thank you, Motya," the ghost coos, the wrinkles on her glowing face gathering into a smile. "You were always so appreciative of me." "B—but..." another servant, a (either: "human", "rabbit", "doe", "sheep") girl, points out, playing with the rim of her sleeve. " Isn't it wrong to use a ghost like this?" "It isn't using if she refuses to move on!" Motya argues. "Either we accept her help, or make her miserable! And who knows what will happen then!" Auntie Grusha gasps, her many skirt layers ruffling in anguish. "I hear miserable ghosts can turn into horrid, corrupted wraiths! I don't want that to happen to me! Please sweeties, let me stay in the palace, as I always did! Didn't I make a good klyuchnitsa? I can still do that! Look!" She makes a strained grimace — and with a sudden pop, several new arms spring up from under her ruffles on her right side, each laden with the paraphernalia a housekeeper would need to do her work. A duster here, a tray with wine goblets there; a ring of many—sized keys; a mop; a ladle; a long pole with a cap at the end, for putting out candles. All of these objects appear molded from the same golden glow as Auntie Grusha herself. Her left arm, now asymmetrically lonesome compared to the cluster of right arms, rests over her chest. She clenches her left fist, pleading. "I kind of agree with Motya," a voice from the crowd says — and another voice argues, "Well I don't! This world is not a place for ghosts! She should move on, beyond the seas, to the Sestritsy's chambers!" The girl that first spoke up after Motya sighs deeply. "We are arguing in circles," she murmurs. Her voice is quiet, nearly drowned out by the others. She hangs her head, for a moment or two — but when she lifts her gaze again, she spots you and the guard. "Oh... Oh hello!" she calls out, straining her lungs to bursting point to be heard. "Help us decide on this! We need an outside voice!" You glance up at the leopard, a silent question in your eyes. She shrugs her vast shoulders, evidently out of ideas. So it's up to you to mediate this... ghost situation, is it? [[Persuade Grusha to move on->Grusha Move On with Leo]] [[Allow Grusha to stay->Grusha Stay with Leo]] [[Let the guard handle this->Leo Attack Grusha]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "MovedOn") "Well..." you say slowly, eyes snapping from the guard to the ghost's multiple arms. "Auntie Grusha probably worked really hard during her life, didn't she?" "You bet!" Motya chuckles. "The Princess herself said once that without Auntie Grusha, the palace would never have become as majestic as it is now! And Auntie taught us everything we know, too! Some of us, she took in from the streets after we lost our homes in that big fire what, fifteen years back? The Princess' druzhina kept pulling us out from the smoke and sending us to Grusha! You remember that, right?" "I sure do!" a bulky (either: "human", "bull", "bear", "wolf") servant booms in the deepest bass voice... Before fishing out a tiny lacey handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes. (The leopard turns away, miming retching). "Then the palace is in good hands," you declare firmly, suddenly finding inspiration when your eyes travel over Motya and their friends. "Look at all these fine young people you raised! I am sure they know how to keep things running! You can rest now!" The housekeeping tools vanish, bursting into clouds of golden sparks one after the other. Auntie Grusha's extra arms retract back into the ruffles, and her remaining right hand comes to rest over her chest too, interlacing with the left. Her golden eyes, huge and sparkling now, gaze at Motya. Then at the soft girl, who has gone back to fiddling with her sleeve. Then at the still sniffling gentle giant. Then at the (either: "chubby", "skinny", "dainty") chambermaid with a (either: "bun", "long braid", "short, stiff braid", "coiled braid crown") of (either: "black", "ginger", "ash—blond", "straw—colored", "chestnut") hair. And at the (either: "tall", "scrawny", "pot—bellied", "pint—sized") person with a (either "fluffy", "curling", "trimmed") moustache: the palace cook, in a grease—splattered apron over their red uniform. And at the wine—pourer, clutching a huge, deep scoop under their arm. And, and, and... There really are so many of them. And each must have personal history with this ghost. No wonder she is so reluctant to move on. Still, at long last, Auntie Grusha finishes taking in them all. Smile lines spread from the corners of her eyes like golden beams, and a glittering tear rolls down her glowing cheek. "You really are all grown-up, my little birds, aren't you? So good at what you do... I am sorry if I raised too much of a fuss... I will... Go hug the Princess now... You know I was there already, at her uncle's court, when she was a little girl... Goodbye, sweeties..." Her shining hand reaches out to ruffle Motya's hair — and then fades. As does the rest of her. Her dress unravels, inch by inch, leaving nothing behind but a few sparkles floating in thin air. The giant servant bawls even louder, and Motya bumps their fist awkwardly into his arm to comfort him (they have to stand on tiptoe for that). The soft girl smiles at you and the leopard. "Thank you. I hope she finds peace beyond the seas". [[Next->Coral Offer Rejected]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "Friend")"Well..." you say slowly, eyes snapping from the guard to the ghost's multiple arms. "Does Auntie Grusha like her job?" "Doesn't she just!" Motya rolls their eyes indulgently. "You'd think the palace was her baby, the way she fawns over it. She's always been like that, in life too. Always the fussy Auntie." "Auntie to everyone," points out yet another servant, a teenage (either: "hound", "cat", "kid (as in, goat—like Beast person)", "weasel", "hamster") with a silky, diligently combed (either: "milky—white", "dappled", "molasses—colored", "inky—black") coat. "To us, to the druzhina, and to the Princess too. I'm pretty sure that the Princess will be passing laws and things all over the place if Auntie Grusha asks her nicely." "The guards don't count apparently," the leopard grouses. "All she ever did was call us bullies." She wasn't wrong, you note to herself. In the meanwhile, the sole Alfr in the crowd weighs in too. "Didn't that 'No taxes for the poorest farmers' become a thing because Auntie Grusha said 'The poor sweetie's need to eat in peace'?" She is wearing her white hair in a (either: "ponytail", "a pair of pigtails", "two pointy buns", " carelessly cut wave"). And while the onesie she is wearing is still red, like the servants' garb, it has random colorful patches sewn into it: green and yellow and purple and polka—dotted white; while her collar is adorned with a row of tiny bells. She must be a skomorokh: one of the countless jesters, acrobats, and actors of all creeds and colors that wander from Kingdom to Kingdom, entertaining the common folk and the nobility alike. She makes such a convincing imitation of Auntie Grusha that everyone snickers: including the ghost. And yourself. (Not the leopard, though; she is wincing so hard that her face has turned wrinkly and flattered like a lap dog's). The verdict is in, then. "If Auntie Grusha is such a useful, even influential, figure around the palace, and she still wants to keep helping," you say, "Let her stay. She will probably be bored in the afterlife." Motya snorts. "Sounds about right." The housekeeping tools vanish, bursting into clouds of golden sparks one after the other. Auntie Grusha's extra arms retract back into the ruffles, and her remaining right hand comes to rest over her chest too, interlacing with the left, as she bends in a long, low bow. The bow is addressed to you specifically; as for the leopard, Auntie Grusha acts as though there were a blank spot where she is standing. "Thank you for letting me stay. My home is here, not in some glimmery place at the end of the earth. And I will keep my home clean and orderly, and everyone in it happy!" She straightens her back, looking over the servants with a proud smile. "Let me check on the kitchens then; see how the feast is coming along!" Without further ado, she pops off. Literally. Dissolving into sparkles just as her extra arms did. The soft girl frowns, but still decides to thank you as well. "I... I hope she is happy at least. Thank you for helping us all decide." [[Next->Coral Offer Rejected]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $GhostStatus to "Hostile")Frankly, you don't care if the leopard can't come up with anything. This is a palace matter, and she is a palace guard. It's her job to deal with this haunting: she can't be lording that halberd over you all day, can she? So you step aside and lean against the wall, arms folded and legs crossed. Letting your whole look say, loud and clear, "Handle this yourself." To the leopard's credit, she gets the message. Slowly, threateningly, she carries her muscular bulk forward, stepping into the circle of servants with her halberd on the ready. "All right, Grusha," she intones. "Dead people should stay dead!" Auntie Grusha gasps and draws herself up to her full height... Which, somehow, keeps growing. And growing. And growing. Till her head touches the ceiling, and her round wrinkled face looms over the servants' heads like a second sun... A wrathful sun, like during the hottest summer months. Split crosswise by a broad, snarling mouth, full of razor—sharp teeth. "Leave us alone, you bully!" she screeches. "I never liked you guards: always slacking off on your job, pestering my sweeties with stupid nitpicky rules! You don't have the guts to fight dragons and dark spirits and save people like the druzhina, so you get up to nonsense! Away with you!" The leopard's fur stands on end, and she clicks her bared fangs in a rapid rhythm. "Oh I am ready to find the biggest, fattest dragon and bring the Princess its head on a platter!" she roars, thrusting her halberd forward... Though she might as well have tried to stab a slab of jelly. The metal spike enters and exits the glowing ruffles, somewhere in the middle of Auntie Grusha's skirt, with equal ease. And with the kind of noise your foot would make, if you stepped into wet moss and then lifted your sole. Ectoplasm oozes down the halberd like tree sap when the leopard pulls it back, pulsing with faint glow. In the meanwhile, the gash she made stitches itself together in blinding white; and then even that white mark does linger, blending into the shiny golden background. As if the leopard had never even laid a claw on Auntie Grusha. She is determined to persist, though. "Maybe if I banish you, that will be enough of a feat for me to join the druzhina!" she cries, tail seining like a pendulum. Auntie Grusha grins wickedly. "Catch me first, you nasty little kitty!" she taunts, before vanishing into thin air before the leopard's eyes. The only trace of her that remains is a swirl of golden sparks, which floats off into a side corridor. Ears perking up, whiskers pointing forward, the leopard takes off after it, and is soon gone from sight. The soft—spoken girl, the one who asked you and the guard to intervene, stares in the leopard's wake, eyes welling up with tears. "I hope they don't hurt each other," she says weakly. "They won't," Motya reassures her, laying their hand on her shoulder. "You know Auntie... Guards have always bothered her, and she bothers them in return. But that big cat is still part of the palace, and Auntie is loyal to the palace, above all. Let's go. There is nothing we can do until they both come back." "Thanks for nothing, friend," they add derisively, shooting a farewell glare at you over their shoulder. The servants begin to disperse. Most of them still appear shaken by the confrontation that just happened, keep squinting at you with unspoken, but very tangible, displeasure, which seems to grip at your throat. Your path is clear now — and judging by the hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery, the feast chamber is straight ahead. You can finally see the Princess — even though you are pretty sure that there quite a few people in the palace that dislike you now. Including the late klyuchnitsa. [[Next->Ch 5 Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} With that, she suddenly unclasps the necklace that she is wearing, and hands it to you. "As a token of gratitude. Your counsel really, really means a lot." The beads are round, pastel red in color. Made from coral, you guess, from the distant coastal kingdom of Loz, where red, cream, and pink corals and dappled conches and peculiar glowy pearls are polished by jewelers that trade with the merpeople. (if:$Race is "Human")[Your family once let one such merchant spend the night at your farm, on the long journey from Loz to Svetloyar.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[The parents of one of your neighbors sailed all over the seas, before settling in Bulochkin.](if:$Race is "Dryad")[One of the dryads from your grove married a cypress wood guardian from Loz.] (if:$Race is "Human")[He](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[They](if:$Race is "Dryad")[She] told you about all sorts of treasures brought from the sunless depths by that underwater folk, with skin all shades of blue and green, webs between their fingers, and vivid spiney fins instead of hair. Loz corals can be pricey even for the high and mighty. And for the servant girl, this necklace is probably the most precious thing she owns. And yet she is willing to part with it. ...Before you can make up your mind whether or not to accept this generous gift, however, the leopard intervenes.(set: $GotReward to false) "I will be taking that, thank you! This stranger here is under my supervision, so $PronounPos reward is my reward!" "But you do not even wear necklaces — " the soft girl tries to protest. But leopard seems to have grown mysteriously deaf all of a sudden. "All right, all right!" she yells at the servants (giving you a pretty good explanation why Auntie Grusha, who so cherished her "sweeties", gave her a cold shoulder). "You dealt with your ghost problem, now stop blocking the corridor! Away with you! Shoo, shoo!" "Whoah, don't get your whiskers in a twist, you oversized horseradish," Motya mutters, before they shuffle off, joining the other servants. The crowd begins to disperse. The leopard, too, leans against the halberd, her mouth curling in a sense of accomplishment... Even though you were the one who handled most of the diplomatic talking. "You can head off, too," she tells you. "The feast chamber is right ahead (you guessed as much yourself, judging by the hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery). "I with be here. If you stir trouble up there, I will come running." "That won't be necessary," you snap over your shoulder, all too eager to put as much distance between yourself and that halberd as possible. Finally. You are about to see the Princess. [[Next->Ch 5 Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The little students are particularly mesmerized by the wide, vibrantly yellow strip of painted steppe, with delicate stalks of dry grasses lovingly rendered in the foreground. Across that steppe, on the back of a chunky, woolly-legged little brown horse, rides a woman. Short and lithe, with black eyes and a tawny face that seems to consist almost entirely of cheekbones. The mural is divided in two by a stark vertical black line. And while the left half, the one with the rider, is bright, as if flooded in sunlight, the right half is murky blue. It shows an old man, with features very similar to the woman's, hugging his knees on the floor of a prison cell, with no source of light save a tiny rectangle of white at the very top, slashed crosswise by window bars. "Did she save him?" asks one of the children, a little (either: "mouse", "fawn", "hare", "kitten"), pressing her little palms against the painted plaster and looking up with enormous eyes. "She did," the guide reassures her, bending her slightly curved waist to lean to the child's height and gently pry her hands away from the mural (the little thing was, after all, eating a greasy pirozhok recently). "That is Vassa. This mural shows something that happened to her many years ago. Her father was wrongly imprisoned, and she rode all the way to Svetloyar to free him. To duel people for him if need be. Our Princess, who was young back then, was greatly impressed by her because, uh..." She minces her words for a moment, blushing darkly. "...Because she fights very good. And they have been inseparable ever since. Vassa heads the Princess' druzhina now." "Does anyone know who the druzhina are?" the school master asks in a cheery, encouraging tone. A human child with (either: "unruly blonde curls", "a single swirl of ginger hair on his forehead", "a round bowl cut", "a mop of black hair") raises his hand with most heroic effort. "They are the Princess' best warriors! They fight dragons and things!" "That is absolutely correct, (either: "Avdey", "Aleko", "Filipok", "Danilko", "Vitya") ", the guide nods. "The druzhina, the Friends of the People, train to protect Rodina, and sometimes beyond, from creatures that an ordinary warrior might have trouble defeating. This mural shows them in action, but it may be a little... gorey for you — " She hesitates, but the children have already turned their heads in unison, to "Ooh" and "Aah" at a painting of a frothing sea: snow—like clusters of bubbles crowning gigantic waves, which blend in color from vivid blue to nearly black. There are streaks of red in the water, too: snaky lines ending in bleary plumes. The guide and the school master exchange worried glances when they see the children study the blood in the sea. But the little students, as it often happens at their age, delight in the carnage, and squeal at the sight of the blood's source. Those red trails are gushing from the severed tentacles of a giant sea monster, which has half-sunk into the waves, hitting at the water with its remaining boneless, slimy appendages in dying desperation. Against the rose-tinted sunset sky over the monster's head, there are figures of two people, forever suspended in mid-leap. One is a man, broad and hearty, with a bit of chub softening the muscles of his stomach. He is not wearing anything save for a pair of tattered pants, and is pictured half—way between transforming from human to bird. His thick arms end with long wing feathers, and he has claws for feet, thrust forward and primed to sink into the monster's glistening, venomously yellow only eye. By his side, there is a woman, pale as the sea froth, with light-blue undertones shading her heavy jaw and wiry arms. She has long, pointy ears, clearly visible because her periwinkle-tinted hair has all been shaved down, save for a long fringe that is streaming in the wind in front of her face. She appears to be a Dayen, but her eyes are gray, not black. Nor does she have wings: instead, she is carried up by an arch of ice, shaped exactly like the waves around her. She has frozen the water with ice sila, which is still coiling around her fists in wisps of white and blue. "These are Okomir and Lumi," the guide comments. There is a hushed softness in her voice, her gaze trawling wistfully from the bird man to the ice woman and back again. "From the time when they traveled to the kingdom of Loz to help the local humans and merpeople fight this vicious creature... Oh, they have had so many adventures... Vanquished so many monsters... I am so lucky they talk to me..." The school master clears his throat, forcing her out of her reverie. "Miss Bazhena, perhaps you could... move on with the exposition?" "What? Ah, yes, of course!" [[Next->Ch3 P3]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The guide's cheeks darken again, and she even presses her hands against them, feeling how warm they've grown. She beckons the children to the next mural — and its contents make her forget all about her embarrassment and beam with pride. "Oh, this mural is one of my favorites!" she declares. "It shows the deeds of my parents!" The children whisper and giggle amongst themselves, the pairs shoving one another to take a closer look at the mural. A tiny chubby bear in a (either: "cherry red", "white and gold", "pea-green", "sky-blue") (either: "shirt", "jacket", "belted tunic", "sarafan"), retorts to Bazhena, "My daddy says his mead is the best in Svetloyar, and the honey for the mead is the best this side of the Great Grove! Can you top that?" Bazhena laughs: a soft, low sound, coming deep from her chest. "Well, not when it comes to mead making, maybe... Look. This is my father." Just like in the mural with Vassa, the image is split in two. In the right half, which Bazhena is currently pointing at, the colors are cool: deep blues and grays, with streaks of white and purple and black. The scene is taking place at night. A man in a long, embroidered coat with trailing overleeves, sinched in the middle by the glittering cord of a belt, is standing in the street, releasing a floating blue lantern. Some of his features do resemble Bazhena's: they both have the same dark eyes, and dense, glossy black hair, and striking eyebrows joined in the middle. "His name is Nour," says Bazhena. "He came here as a Guest from the kingdom of Wa'Atan, and stayed behind at the Svetloyar court. He is an inventor!" It would have been impossible to imagine her smile grow even broader, and yet it does. "You may have noticed the enchanted lanterns that appear in the streets after sunset; that was his idea, a mix of sila and science... And the mural honors him for it. Some day, he hopes to set such lanterns flying over every town and village, both in Rodina and in his motherland..." The story of invention seems to interest the children much less than the stories of the druzhina. Bazhena's loving tribute to her father is mostly met with silence, interrupted by a few scratches and the hushed voice of the school master, who is telling someone not to pick their nose. Bazhena inhales and claps her hands together, trying to draw her little listeners' attention again. "Um, if you please look at the mural's other half, you will see my mother!" The children obey, after some fidgeting — and liven up with "Oohs" and "Aahs" again. To the left of the image of nocturnal streets, the colors turn crisp and light. The countless wavy paint strokes — white, and blue mixed with white — merge together in a vast ice field, perhaps a frozen lake. And in the middle of that lake, two huge groups of people, humans on one side and Alfr on the other, have collided into one another. They appear to have marched from their respective banks on the lake shoulder to shoulder, and the tails of those orderly lines are still visible in the background. But in the foreground, the ranks have broken up into pairs or groups, locked in a writhing, chaotic ball of limbs, as they try to wrestle one another down to the ice, which has begun to crackle under their weight. The wrestler closest to the viewers is an Alfr woman, with her hair undone, vapor gushing out of her wide-open mouth, and blood trickling from a cut across her cheek. "Whoah," whispers one of the few little Alfr in the class: a (either: "girl", "boy", "child") wrapped in several layers of (either: "dark-gray", "white", "black", "cream", "light-gray") downy shawls. "That's the Great Stenka!" "Indeed it is!" the school master nods vigorously, giving Bazhena a questioning look. When she inclines her head, allowing him to cut into her commentary, he continues, "A grand fight that the kingdoms of Rodina and Alfrland hold every few years to test the mettle of their finest warriors! The last two left standing, one from each side, are exchanged by their kingdoms: the Alfr warrior goes to serve the rulers of Rodina, and vice versa. That's how your mother, the Lady Ditte, joined the druzhina too, correct?" "Yes, absolutely! That's her in the mural, screaming!" The school master clicks his tongue. "A genius inventor and a formidable warrior. Quite a legacy to uphold, hm?" "Yes, I... I am just the humble palace art historian... Doing some silly art in my spare time... But — but I try to catch up." While talking, Bazhena seems to shrink a few sizes. And when she falls silent, she breathes in, rolls her jaw, and digs with her fingers into the skin around her thumbnails, struggling against something unspoken, yet crushingly heavy. Who knows how long she would have stood frozen like that — if it were not for a (either: "freckled", "gap—toothed", "huge—eared") human child that tugs demandingly at her sleeve. "What is that?" she asks in a squeaky, utterly awestruck voice. "Is that a dragon? Is that you? Did you kill a dragon?" "Well um — " Bazhena's weak protests are drowned out by the chorus of children. Like a tidal wave in the painting with Okomir and Lumi, they clash against the opposite wall, leaping excitedly in front of the final mural in the corridor. [[Next->Ch3 P4]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The paint here is still fresh, and the colors are so saturated that it almost seems like they will bleed into the real world at any moment. In a forest clearing, in front of a gaping dark cavern, and with beams of sunlight in the background, stands a small, fat woman with pointy ears and braided black hair. A tiny painted twin of Bazhena. She has placed one hand on her hip, and the other, on the giant head of a dead dragon that lies beside her, so huge that the rest of its body has melted away into mist somewhere outside the mural's frame. The beast is still leering, yellow teeth glinting in the sun and long lumpy tongue lolling out of its mouth. There is another figure kneeling in front of the dragon's head: a full-blooded Alfr in ornate but horribly singed clothes, who is waggling his arms wildly in the direction of Bazhena, probably to show how grateful he is. "Did you save him?" the children demand, more and more little hands reaching for Bazhena's clothes, and for the mural. Pointing. Prodding. Pulling. Desperate to get her attention, and her answers. "You did, you did, you did! You are a hero! Like Vassa! Like Okomir and Lumi! Why aren't you a druzhina warrior?" "Oh she is. Or she's supposed to be at any rate," says a voice, gruff and gravelly. And a woman steps into the corridor — making Bazhena shrink even more, pulling nervously at the high collar of her dress. One look at the newcomer, and the children nearly burst for lack of air, breathless with awe. She looks just like her mural, with the same angular silhouette — except in real life, many years after the rescue of her father, she has threads of gray in her hair, cropped closely to her skull, and lines around her sharp black eyes. "V-Vassa!" Bazhena stutters. "What a p-pleasant surprise! Are you here for the tour or...?" Vassa gives her a long, wordless look. Bazhena is not particularly tall, and Vassa is even less so — but the latter's presence overwhelms the former till she trails off into a shaky giggle. "You know perfectly well that I am here for you. You don't want to serve in the druzhina full time — fine. The most worthwhile warrior in your family is Ditte anyway." Bazhena hangs her head at that — but Vassa is far from finished. "That said. Zabava..." Vassa pauses, an oddly smile-like tick dancing in the corners of her thin lips, and corrects the familiar address. "Her Highness has appointed you honorary druzhina member for killing that dragon. It is disrespectful to ignore her decree. The very least you can do is take part in the feast in your honor. So wrap up whatever it is you are doing and come with me to your ceremonial armor fitting." "I... Very well. I guess this concludes our tour. Goodbye children," Bazhena says, her voice even and colorless and her eyes lingering on the mural of her dragon slaying. Some hidden protest leaves an imprint on her furrowed brow: as if what is shown in the mural is... wrong. "Finally!" Vassa watches the school master shepherd the children away, and then beckons Bazhena after her impatiently. "Sun willing, we'll be done with the preparations before your parents return from that trip of theirs." [[Next->Ch3 P5]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "… Oh, I hope we return in time for Bazhena's feast!" says Nour, glancing over his shoulder and up at the sky. That's where he and his wife descended onto the bank of the river, which stretches, nearly boundless, until the very horizon. The couple's means of transport — a dark-red carpet with green and white and yellow crosswise stripes of different thickness — is hovering a few inches above the flat, sandy bank. Such enchanted carpets are woven both in Rodina and Wa'Atan. And Nour and Ditte own one each. This time around, they took Ditte's carpet. It has done its job as reliably as always, carrying them from Svetloyar to this river. In response to the call for help from the local vodniks: the Princess's subjects in need of a druzhina warrior. The vodniks themselves — round-bellied, the size of a human child, with long frog-like legs and enormous (also frog-like) mouths and dark-green hair — are huddled on the beach, hugging one another and watching Nour in a mix of wonderment and apprehension. While the gaze of the inventor — who, like Vassa, is touched by more gray than in his mural — may wander, his hands are still doing his work. He is fitting his wife into a full-body suit, made out of planks of wood with accordion-like joints at the knees and elbows. Inlaid in the chest of that suit, is a huge azure gem. Every time Ditte — restless amid all of her husband's tinkering — presses down at it impatiently, it makes a soft click, and a huge, wobbly bubble forms over Ditte's head. "We will miss the feast for sure if you keep fiddling with that thing! If that merfolk crystal is what will help me breathe underwater, why bother with the suit? I could have just worn it around my neck or something!" Nour gasps, turning to stare at his wife in sheer anguish. "You are going in to fight an underwater monster!" "A very scary one! I barely escaped with my life!" one of the vodniks, (either: "young", "old", "a child almost") pipes up. And (either: "he has", "she has", "they have") the injuries to show for it. The poor soul's (either: "left", "right") arm, for which Nour has fashioned a makeshift sling, looks limp and sickly, with the healthy (either: "salad-green", "green and yellow", "blueish green", "dappled brown", "striped, green and brown", "yellow-dotted brown", "fir-green") skin bleached to dirty-white. That is where the monster bit, the vodniks whisper. And this particular vodnik is not the only one in this condition. "Your usual armor will only weigh you down," Nour goes on, after a sympathetic glance at his webby-limbed patient. "But I cannot let you just... skinny-dip in there!" Ditte bites her lip. "Oh, I would. For you." Nour lets go of the wooden suit and presses his hands against his burning cheeks, much like his daughter does when flustered. "Beloved, please, not in front of the vodniks!" Ditte laughs. Her face, unlike Nour's, has been barely changed by the passing of the years, for the Alfr as as long-lived as the Dayen from the sky. But the one place where she does have fine lines is at the corners of her eyes. Nour makes her laugh often. "I do love your invention, my heart. I am sure it will help protect me." She rolls her shoulders, bares her sword (the only piece of her warrior gear she's taking with her), and makes a cautious, slightly stilted first step towards the water. And then another. And one more. And more. "Very well then. Let's go! Not as glamorous as those youngsters, Lumi and Okomir, but I will get that water monster!" [[Next->Ch3 P6]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The river is as deep as it is vast. When its glassy dome closes over Ditte's head, she summons the bubble with the merfolk crystal and plunges down, into nothingness, her wood-clad body cutting deep into the mass of water. In the silt-tinged, green-brown murk, Ditte's leaden skin pulses with thread-thin, swirly trails of glowing white dots. These markings are the special trait of her kind. An indispensable ability for miners in the Alfrland caverns... And apparently, for warriors looking for a monster that has scared the vodniks out of house and home. The monster does not take too long to reveal itself. It looks just as the vodniks described, whimpering and hugging their young. A black, shapeless, faceless blob. Lurking. Waiting. Eating away any living flesh it touches. Ditte expects it to move, to hunt, to dart back and forth in the corner of her eye. But instead, it just... floats, like an underwater storm cloud. Swaying in the river's slow current. Her gaze locked on her target, Ditte relaxes her muscles and lets the river carry her further down, until her knees finally hit the soft bed of silt. The little bump raises a cloud of dirt specks, which float up, dancing and spiraling... Into the same shape as the monster. Just on a smaller scale. Ditte's narrowed eyes fly wide open under the protective visor of her bubble. "You are no living thing, are you..." she whispers, in a warped, echoing voice. "You are no monster; Just... Something in the water... Poison maybe... And the vodniks were too terrified of your effects to figure this out... Moons, not that I blame them..." She churns the water a bit with her sword, setting off tiny ripples that hit the cloud of poison, dent it a little bit, and then are swallowed by it. "Bit out of my depth here," Ditte says to herself, snorting at her own pun. "Got to go up and tell Nour about this. He will think of — " And then, in a numbing flash, it dawns on her. The cloud is not just there, polluting the water. It is growing. It has been growing the whole time she was inspecting it, making her little deductions. And now it has encroached on her like a dark wall; like one of those sandstorms she saw when she and Nour took his carpet to visit his elderly parents in Wa'Atan. It gathers around her, undulating. Bubbling. Spreading. She kicks her feet to start swimming upwards — but the sole of her wood-armored foot touches the cloud. If she were bare-footed, she would probably have suffered the same fate as the injured vodniks. As it is, though, the darkness seeps into the wood, turning it into rotted mush that slips uncomfortably down Ditte's leg. And from her leg, a crack runs through the suit, jagged and swift like dark lightning. Until it reaches her chest and hits the crystal. In slow, suspended motion, the crystal bursts into shards, which float away, carried by the river into advancing blackness. The bubble pops. (if:$KickedOff is true)[[[Next->Night City]]] (if:$KickedOff is false)[[[Next->Day City]]]

CHAPTER 5. PARTY CRASHING {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Your Highness! Call not for my execution, but have me spared!" Out of breath, with a nervous pulse battering at your stomach, you burst into the feast chamber and recite the traditional address to the Rodina royals. People first started using this plea long ago, during the reign of one of the Princess's more tyrannical ancestors. Thankfully, that ancestor was overthrown in favor of a more clement relative; and since then, this has become just a figure of speech. At least, you hope so. With the words out of your mouth, ending in a hoarse huff, you freeze, grabbing tight at the door frame with both hands, on either side. You are not entirely sure if you have made a proper impression... [[...Especially since you are wearing your regular, modest clothes->Modest Clothes Day]] [[...Even though you are wearing your best clothes->Fancy Clothes Day]] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[[[...Especially since your "clothes" are just random human items cobbled together->Dryad Clothes Day]]]

CHAPTER 5. PARTY-CRASHING {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Your Highness! Call not for my execution, but have me spared!" Out of breath, with a nervous pulse battering at your stomach, you burst into the feast chamber and recite the traditional address to the Rodina royals. People first started using this plea long ago, during the reign of one of the Princess's more tyrannical ancestors. Thankfully, that ancestor was overthrown in favor of a more clement relative; and since then, this has become just a figure of speech. At least, you hope so. With the words out of your mouth, ending in a hoarse huff, you freeze, grabbing tight at the door frame with both hands, on either side. You are not entirely sure if you have made a proper impression... [[...Especially since you are wearing your regular, modest clothes->Modest Clothes Night]] [[...Even though you are wearing your best clothes->Fancy Clothes Night]] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[[[...Especially since your "clothes" are just random human items cobbled together->Dryad Clothes Night]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Among the whatsits piled up on the potter family's cart, is a polished samovar. In its curving brass side, you catch a reflection of your... [[...Round face.->Chose Face 1 Human]] [[...Long, sharp face.->Chose Face 2 Human]] [[...Broad, heavy face.->Chose Face 3 Human]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FaceShape to "round")Suddenly, a sun beam bounces off the samovar, and you squint your... [[...Black eyes.->Chose Eyes Black H]] [[...Dark-brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Dark-Brown H]] [[...Light-brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Light-Brown H]] [[...Hazel eyes.->Chose Eyes Hazel H]] [[...Green eyes.->Chose Eyes Green H]] [[...Gray eyes.->Chose Eyes Gray H]] [[...Blue eyes.->Chose Eyes Blue H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FaceShape to "long")Suddenly, a sun beam bounces off the samovar, and you squint your... [[...Black eyes.->Chose Eyes Black H]] [[...Dark-brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Dark-Brown H]] [[...Light-brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Light-Brown H]] [[...Hazel eyes.->Chose Eyes Hazel H]] [[...Green eyes.->Chose Eyes Green H]] [[...Gray eyes.->Chose Eyes Gray H]] [[...Blue eyes.->Chose Eyes Blue H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FaceShape to "broad")Suddenly, a sun beam bounces off the samovar, and you squint your... [[...Black eyes.->Chose Eyes Black H]] [[...Dark-brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Dark-Brown H]] [[...Light-brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Light-Brown H]] [[...Hazel eyes.->Chose Eyes Hazel H]] [[...Green eyes.->Chose Eyes Green H]] [[...Gray eyes.->Chose Eyes Gray H]] [[...Blue eyes.->Chose Eyes Blue H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "black")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "dark-brown")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Medium-brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "light-brown")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "hazel")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "green")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "gray")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "blue")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant sensation of warmth on your... [[...Pale skin.->Chose Skin Pale H]] [[...Rosy skin.->Chose Skin Rosy H]] [[...Tanned skin.->Chose Skin S Tan H]] [[...Deeply tanned skin.->Chose Skin D Tan H]] [[...Light-brown skin.->Chose Skin L Brown H]] [[...Golden-brown skin.->Chose Skin G Brown H]] [[...Brown skin.->Chose Skin M Brown H]] [[...Dark-brown skin.->Chose Skin D Brown H]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "pale")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "rosy")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "tanned")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "deeply tanned")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "light-brown")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to brown")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "dark-brown")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairLength to "short")In color, your $HairLength hair is... [[...Blond->Chose Hair Blond]] [[...White->Chose Hair White]] [[...Gray->Chose Hair Gray]] [[...Black->Chose Hair Black]] [[...Chestnut->Chose Hair Chestnut]] [[...Dark-red->Chose Hair Dark-Red]] [[...Bright-red->Chose Hair Bright-Red]] [[...Light-brown->Chose Hair Light-Brown]]

(set: $HairLength to "shoulder-length")In color, your $HairLength hair is... [[...Blond->Chose Hair Blond]] [[...White->Chose Hair White]] [[...Gray->Chose Hair Gray]] [[...Black->Chose Hair Black]] [[...Chestnut->Chose Hair Chestnut]] [[...Dark-red->Chose Hair Dark-Red]] [[...Bright-red->Chose Hair Bright-Red]] [[...Light-brown->Chose Hair Light-Brown]]

(set: $HairLength to "waist-length")In color, your $HairLength hair is... [[...Blond->Chose Hair Blond]] [[...White->Chose Hair White]] [[...Gray->Chose Hair Gray]] [[...Black->Chose Hair Black]] [[...Chestnut->Chose Hair Chestnut]] [[...Dark-red->Chose Hair Dark-Red]] [[...Bright-red->Chose Hair Bright-Red]] [[...Light-brown->Chose Hair Light-Brown]]

(set: $HairLength to "long")In color, your $HairLength hair is... [[...Blond->Chose Hair Blond]] [[...White->Chose Hair White]] [[...Gray->Chose Hair Gray]] [[...Black->Chose Hair Black]] [[...Chestnut->Chose Hair Chestnut]] [[...Dark-red->Chose Hair Dark-Red]] [[...Bright-red->Chose Hair Bright-Red]] [[...Light-brown->Chose Hair Light-Brown]]

(set: $HairLength to "very long")In color, your $HairLength hair is... [[...Blond->Chose Hair Blond]] [[...White->Chose Hair White]] [[...Gray->Chose Hair Gray]] [[...Black->Chose Hair Black]] [[...Chestnut->Chose Hair Chestnut]] [[...Dark-red->Chose Hair Dark-Red]] [[...Bright-red->Chose Hair Bright-Red]] [[...Light-brown->Chose Hair Light-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "blond")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "white")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "gray")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "black")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "chestnut")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

D{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "dark-red")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "bright-red")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairColor to "light-brown")You brush the loose $HairColor strands absentmindedly out of your eyes, feeling their texture. Your hair is.. [[...Straight.->Chose Texture Straight]] [[...Wavy.->Chose Texture Wavy]] [[...Curly.->Chose Texture Curly]] [[...Coiled.->Chose Texture Coiled]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairTexture to "straight")Washed over by the breeze, you turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairTexture to "wavy")Washed over by the breeze, you turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairTexture to "curly")Washed over by the breeze, you turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $HairTexture to "coiled")Washed over by the breeze, you turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Among the whatsits piled up on the potter family's cart, is a polished samovar. In its curving brass side, you catch a reflection of your face. If you compared yourself to a species of your mute forest cousins, it would be... [[...A feline species.->Chose Feline]] [[...A canine species.->Chose Canine]] [[...A cervine species.->Chose Cervine]] [[...A bovine species.->Chose Bovine]] [[...An ursine species.->Chose Ursine]] [[...A rodent species.->Chose Rodent]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BeastSpecies to "feline")The wind whistles past the cart, washing over your $BeastSpecies form and playing with your... [[...Long, straight fur.->Chose Fur Long]] [[...Long, wavy fur.->Chose Fur Wavy]] [[...Short, bristly fur.->Chose Fur Bristly]] [[...Short, sleek fur.->Chose Fur Sleek]] [[...Poofy, fluffy fur.->Chose Fur Fluffy]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BeastSpecies to "canine")The wind whistles past the cart, washing over your $BeastSpecies form and playing with your... [[...Long, straight fur.->Chose Fur Long]] [[...Long, wavy fur.->Chose Fur Wavy]] [[...Short, bristly fur.->Chose Fur Bristly]] [[...Short, sleek fur.->Chose Fur Sleek]] [[...Poofy, fluffy fur.->Chose Fur Fluffy]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BeastSpecies to "cervine")The wind whistles past the cart, washing over your $BeastSpecies form and playing with your... [[...Long, straight fur.->Chose Fur Long]] [[...Long, wavy fur.->Chose Fur Wavy]] [[...Short, bristly fur.->Chose Fur Bristly]] [[...Short, sleek fur.->Chose Fur Sleek]] [[...Poofy, fluffy fur.->Chose Fur Fluffy]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BeastSpecies to "bovine")The wind whistles past the cart, washing over your $BeastSpecies form and playing with your... [[...Long, straight fur.->Chose Fur Long]] [[...Long, wavy fur.->Chose Fur Wavy]] [[...Short, bristly fur.->Chose Fur Bristly]] [[...Short, sleek fur.->Chose Fur Sleek]] [[...Poofy, fluffy fur.->Chose Fur Fluffy]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BeastSpecies to "ursine")The wind whistles past the cart, washing over your $BeastSpecies form and playing with your... [[...Long, straight fur.->Chose Fur Long]] [[...Long, wavy fur.->Chose Fur Wavy]] [[...Short, bristly fur.->Chose Fur Bristly]] [[...Short, sleek fur.->Chose Fur Sleek]] [[...Poofy, fluffy fur.->Chose Fur Fluffy]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BeastSpecies to "rodent")The wind whistles past the cart, washing over your $BeastSpecies form and playing with your... [[...Long, straight fur.->Chose Fur Long]] [[...Long, wavy fur.->Chose Fur Wavy]] [[...Short, bristly fur.->Chose Fur Bristly]] [[...Short, sleek fur.->Chose Fur Sleek]] [[...Poofy, fluffy fur.->Chose Fur Fluffy]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Fur to "long")The color of your $Fur fur is... [[...Red.->Chose Fur Red]] [[...Light-brown.->Chose Fur Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown.->Chose Fur Dark-Brown]] [[...Creamy.->Chose Fur Creamy]] [[...Pure white.->Chose Fur White]] [[...Gray.->Chose Fur Gray]] [[...Dappled.->Chose Fur Dappled]] [[...Striped.->Chose Fur Striped]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Fur to "wavy")The color of your $Fur fur is... [[...Red.->Chose Fur Red]] [[...Light-brown.->Chose Fur Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown.->Chose Fur Dark-Brown]] [[...Creamy.->Chose Fur Creamy]] [[...Pure white.->Chose Fur White]] [[...Gray.->Chose Fur Gray]] [[...Dappled.->Chose Fur Dappled]] [[...Striped.->Chose Fur Striped]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Fur to "bristly")The color of your $Fur fur is... [[...Red.->Chose Fur Red]] [[...Light-brown.->Chose Fur Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown.->Chose Fur Dark-Brown]] [[...Creamy.->Chose Fur Creamy]] [[...Pure white.->Chose Fur White]] [[...Gray.->Chose Fur Gray]] [[...Dappled.->Chose Fur Dappled]] [[...Striped.->Chose Fur Striped]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Fur to "sleek")The color of your $Fur fur is... [[...Red.->Chose Fur Red]] [[...Light-brown.->Chose Fur Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown.->Chose Fur Dark-Brown]] [[...Creamy.->Chose Fur Creamy]] [[...Pure white.->Chose Fur White]] [[...Gray.->Chose Fur Gray]] [[...Dappled.->Chose Fur Dappled]] [[...Striped.->Chose Fur Striped]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Fur to "fluffy")The color of your $Fur fur is... [[...Red.->Chose Fur Red]] [[...Light-brown.->Chose Fur Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown.->Chose Fur Dark-Brown]] [[...Creamy.->Chose Fur Creamy]] [[...Pure white.->Chose Fur White]] [[...Gray.->Chose Fur Gray]] [[...Dappled.->Chose Fur Dappled]] [[...Striped.->Chose Fur Striped]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "red")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "light-brown")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "dark-brown")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "creamy")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "white")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "gray")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "dappled")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FurColor to "striped")The pleasant breezy sensation ripples all the way to the tip of your... [[...Short, stumpy tail.->Chose Tail Short]] [[...Mid-length tail.->Chose Tail Mid]] [[...Long tail.->Chose Tail Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Tail to "short") Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Tail to "long") Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Among the whatsits piled up on the potter family's cart, is a polished samovar. In its curving brass side, you catch a reflection of your... [[...Round face.->Chose Face 1 Dryad]] [[...Long, sharp face.->Chose Face 2 Dryad]] [[...Broad, heavy face.->Chose Face 3 Dryad]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FaceShape to "round")Suddenly, a sun beam bounces off the samovar, and you squint your... [[...Dark-green eyes.->Chose Eyes DGreen D]] [[...Vivid turquoise eyes.->Chose Eyes Turquoise D]] [[...Brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Brown D]] [[...Yellow eyes.->Chose Eyes Yellow D]] [[...Copper eyes.->Chose Eyes Copper D]] [[...Milky white eyes.->Chose Eyes White D]] [[...Solid black eyes.->Chose Eyes Black D]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FaceShape to "long")Suddenly, a sun beam bounces off the samovar, and you squint your... [[...Dark-green eyes.->Chose Eyes DGreen D]] [[...Vivid turquoise eyes.->Chose Eyes Turquoise D]] [[...Brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Brown D]] [[...Yellow eyes.->Chose Eyes Yellow D]] [[...Copper eyes.->Chose Eyes Copper D]] [[...Milky white eyes.->Chose Eyes White D]] [[...Solid black eyes.->Chose Eyes Black D]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $FaceShape to "broad")Suddenly, a sun beam bounces off the samovar, and you squint your... [[...Dark-green eyes.->Chose Eyes DGreen D]] [[...Vivid turquoise eyes.->Chose Eyes Turquoise D]] [[...Brown eyes.->Chose Eyes Brown D]] [[...Yellow eyes.->Chose Eyes Yellow D]] [[...Copper eyes.->Chose Eyes Copper D]] [[...Milky white eyes.->Chose Eyes White D]] [[...Solid black eyes.->Chose Eyes Black D]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "dark-green")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "turquoise")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "brown")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "yellow")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "copper")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "milky")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $EyeColor to "black")The beam glides on, and the blinding flare gives way to a pleasant warmth that caresses your... [[...White, birch-like bark.->Chose Bark White]] [[...Silvery-gray bark.->Chose Bark Silvery]] [[...Olive-green bark.->Chose Bark Olive]] [[...Mossy-green bark.->Chose Bark Mossy]] [[...Light-brown bark.->Chose Bark Light-Brown]] [[...Dark-brown bark.->Chose Bark Dark-Brown]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BarkColor to "white")A gentle breeze rises as well, playing with the branches on your head, which are covered in... [[...Salad-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Green]] [[...Dark-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Dark-Green]] [[...Pine needles and cones.->Chose Needles]] [[...White blossoms.->Chose Blossoms White]] [[...Pink blossoms.->Chose Blossoms Pink]] [[...Red leaves.->Chose Leaves Red]] [[...Golden leaves.->Chose Leave Golden]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BarkColor to "silvery")A gentle breeze rises as well, playing with the branches on your head, which are covered in... [[...Salad-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Green]] [[...Dark-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Dark-Green]] [[...Pine needles and cones.->Chose Needles]] [[...White blossoms.->Chose Blossoms White]] [[...Pink blossoms.->Chose Blossoms Pink]] [[...Red leaves.->Chose Leaves Red]] [[...Golden leaves.->Chose Leave Golden]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BarkColor to "olive-green")A gentle breeze rises as well, playing with the branches on your head, which are covered in... [[...Salad-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Green]] [[...Dark-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Dark-Green]] [[...Pine needles and cones.->Chose Needles]] [[...White blossoms.->Chose Blossoms White]] [[...Pink blossoms.->Chose Blossoms Pink]] [[...Red leaves.->Chose Leaves Red]] [[...Golden leaves.->Chose Leave Golden]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BarkColor to "mossy")A gentle breeze rises as well, playing with the branches on your head, which are covered in... [[...Salad-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Green]] [[...Dark-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Dark-Green]] [[...Pine needles and cones.->Chose Needles]] [[...White blossoms.->Chose Blossoms White]] [[...Pink blossoms.->Chose Blossoms Pink]] [[...Red leaves.->Chose Leaves Red]] [[...Golden leaves.->Chose Leave Golden]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BarkColor to "light-brown")A gentle breeze rises as well, playing with the branches on your head, which are covered in... [[...Salad-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Green]] [[...Dark-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Dark-Green]] [[...Pine needles and cones.->Chose Needles]] [[...White blossoms.->Chose Blossoms White]] [[...Pink blossoms.->Chose Blossoms Pink]] [[...Red leaves.->Chose Leaves Red]] [[...Golden leaves.->Chose Leave Golden]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $BarkColor to "dark-brown")A gentle breeze rises as well, playing with the branches on your head, which are covered in... [[...Salad-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Green]] [[...Dark-green leaves.->Chose Leaves Dark-Green]] [[...Pine needles and cones.->Chose Needles]] [[...White blossoms.->Chose Blossoms White]] [[...Pink blossoms.->Chose Blossoms Pink]] [[...Red leaves.->Chose Leaves Red]] [[...Golden leaves.->Chose Leave Golden]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "leaves")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "green")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "leaves")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "dark-green")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "needles")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "pine-green")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "blossoms")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "white")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "blossoms")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "pink")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "leaves")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "red")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $DryadHead to "leaves")(set: $DryadHeadColor to "golden")Your close your eyes, basking in the moment, and then open them again turn your attention back to the road. [[Next->Domovik Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $SkinColor to "golden-brown")The hair that frames your $SkinColor face is... [[...Short->Chose Hair Short]] [[...Shoulder-length->Chose Hair Shoulder]] [[...Waist-length->Chose Hair Waist]] [[...Long->Chose Hair Long]] [[...Very long->Chose Hair V Long]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} A few weeks later, on the other end of Rodina, where its green meadows blend into pale-yellow dunes, a battle takes place, over the rising, dry waves of sand and brittle grass. A giant bird of prey with enormous yellow eyes tosses itself, with the force of a stone hurtling from a catapult, down and down again, at a creature that prances on the ground, raising dusty clouds. The creature was once a horse, but then perished in the dunes. Perhaps from the cruel sun, who does not always listen to the pleas of his three sisters not to overdo his fire magic, especially in the summer. Or perhaps from an unfortunate meeting with the wild wolves, so much more voracious than their talking cousins. And now, this horse, stripped down to bare bone, walks again. Its cracking ribs and spine and fleshless legs all float in mid-air, knocking dryly against one another. The way they have reassembled is not entirely accurate, and the horse's overturned ribcage rises over its back like spikes. What has glued the skeleton together, and is holding up the horse's skull (also not quite properly aligned, and far too full of teeth), is a clot of energy. It weaves and snakes endlessly between the floating bones like rivulets of red dust. Or perhaps like every so many tiniest red ants, running, running, running in circles; keeping the horse upright. Some of the misplaced teeth are way too sharp, like they have been drawn into the skeleton from the skull of a predator; and some of them frame the horse's eye sockets. And almost each is stained red; there are a few tufts of human hair lodged in between them as well. The horse hungers. Now, the teeth are snapping at the bird's claws. Thwarting each new attempt to grab hold of the skull. And even if the bird does hook its claws in the sockets, in between the protruding teeth, and does rip the skull off - the rest of the bones lurch forward, chiming an eerie melody, and reattach themselves to it. All the while, the bony legs — a bit longer, a bit sharper, than a living horse's, sinking into the sand like stilts — slash through the air. Aiming to pin the bird down. To trample its feathers. To tear out its tail. [[Next->Ch 1 P6]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The bird dodges each time, but just barely... Until it finally lets out a very human huff of frustration and, whizzing up in a spiral out of the horse's reach, and calls out in a man's voice, "Lumi! Freeze and snatch!" "Right away, Okomir," a female voice answers, down from the ground. Even and calm, almost emotionless, despite the heated clash going on. A tall figure hurries through the dry grass, wrapped into billowing white fabrics for protection from the sun. There is no rhyme or reason to their arrangement — not like the veils worn by many people in Wa'Atan or Samarsarai. The approaching figure looks more like a messy cocoon of some giant silkworm, than anything else. The only parts of it that are visible is the tip of a blue fringe of hair, hanging from underneath a broad white hood; and a pale arm, which wriggles free of the cocoon, and shoots... No, not a thread of silk: a beam of sila, blue and crackling. Hitting the horse from behind, it condenses into enchanted ice. A dense, hardened block of shining blue, which encases the horse's hind legs faster than the sun can melt it. The block grows, reaching the middle of the spiny ribcage in two or three fleeting seconds. It weighs the horse down like an anchor, keeping it in place so that it cannot follow the skull when Okomir the bird pries it free again. This gives Okomir a chance to soar up, higher than he has ever tried to carry the skull before. His eyes scan the dunes — and as soon as he finds a big enough rock jutting from the sand, he tilts his wings and plummets down, hitting the rock with full force. The skull shatters — and the red dust swirls to nothing. Those bones that were not yet caught by the ice roll to the ground, harmless; and the rest will surely follow suit when the sun does its job. [[Next->Ch 1 P 7]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Okomir slants his yellow eyes at the unmoving skeleton. "I think that's the last of them. The caravans to Samarsarai shouldn't be bothered by bitey dead horses now." Lumi wants to say something in response, but cannot. The cocoon quakes, in the throes of a rattling, wet cough. Okomir tilts his head, raising the feathers that cover his ears. "Are you melting in the sun? Or having emotions?" The question, odd as it sounds, is entirely sincere, with not a note of mockery. "I keep telling you: you should tell Rynne about it! They have powerful sila! Maybe they could - " Lumi shoos Okomir off, still wheezing. "I will be fine. I have always been fine. You know that; you've known since I was a girl. I will just speak in my most mo — monotone voice, and cast ice spells on myself. My parent will not hear about this." Okomir narrows his bird eyes. "You are lucky the ground here isn't solid enough for me to change back into a human. Or I'd give you a good shake... And... And myself too! But all right. Let's head back and report to Vassa." As they set off, the cocoon trudging through the sand and the bird flying overhead, Okomir turns back to examine the bones one last time. "Did you find it odd that these critters are so... active all of a sudden? Usually, there is one sighting every ten years or so, but we've had to fight so many in just a couple of days!.. No, no. Don't answer that. You might have another emotion." The two companions leave, pondering. This, of course, has nothing to do with the little misadventure of young Mila and the rusalka that wore her mother's face. Nothing at all. Truly. [[Next->Ch2 Intro]]

[[New Game->Ch1 P1]] {(link: "Resume")[(load-game: "1")]}

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You were in such a hurry to bring your news to the palace that you did not give much thought to what you were going to wear. (if:$Race is "Human")[Your simple garments, sewn from rough, undyed fabric, are something you'd wear while working around the farmstead. Pitchfork in hand; ready to hoist up crisp, fragrant, recently dried hay to the upper level of the barn, for keeping the cattle fed over the cold months. You appreciate these clothes for how sturdy they are, able to withstand most wear and tear. But this is no courtly dress: not a thread of burgundy in sight.] (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Your simple garments, thin and lightweight, and haphazardly patched in places, are something you'd wear while helping out your grandfather. Hauling sacks of grain and flour for your baker customers; running back and forth with carpenter tools to keep the mill running. That sort of thing. Your clothes allow you freedom of movement, and do not overheat you on top of your fur, and do not pinch your tail (which is very important). But this is no courtly dress; not a thread of burdundy in sight.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Your garments, sewn from crumpled, off-white linen, are from your clan elders' storage coffers (hollow logs, really, with fancy little trap doors attached on either end). And Mother Earth knows how long they've been lying in there. Such supplies come in handy, in case one of the dryads needs to go out and mingle with humans (who are apparently not too keen on seeing your people's natural form, covered by naught but a few leafy vines). But the clothes in the coffers are mostly very, very simple.] Not something expected from a newcomer to the Princess's grand feast. [[Next->Ignored Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (if:$Race is "Human")[Knowing how important it is to look your best in front of the Princess, you dressed in the traditional outfit you usually wear to the midsummer festival, where young folk from Zolotoye and beyond gather to dance and play games in the silky-green meadows, framed by the Great Birch Grove. It's certainly not a bad outfit, with bright-red embroidery along the sleeves, and a nice vest and everything... But it's not gilded or jeweled or padded with fur.] (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Knowing how important it is to look your best in front of the Princess, you rolled your grandfather's mattress aside and took a deep dive into the massive, broad oaken chest he uses as a bed. You certainly did find quite a few dusty old knickknacks, like a drinking flask rolled from birch bark, or a long, matted hat with mysterious arrow holes in it, or a torn page from a book that contained nothing but an elaborate, carefully inked illustration of human warriors righting giant snails... or perhaps pixie warriors fighting regular snails. It's a mystery lost to time. And among all of that, you uncovered an old, relatively fancy doublet. Emphasis on "relatively". It looks like Züdemark fashion (you are not quite sure whether it's meant to be men's or women's or someone else's fashion, though), with puffy sleeves. Maybe you do cut a dashing figure from a distance... But up close, it becomes clear that the moths have snacked quite heartily on the doublet in that chest. And it pinches your tail too.] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You found your, uh, palace wear in your clan elders' supply coffers (hollow logs, really, with fancy little trap doors attached on either end). Such supplies do come in handy, in case one of the dryads needs to go out and mingle with humans (who are apparently not too keen on seeing your people's natural form, covered by naught but a few leafy vines). The clothes in the coffers are usually quite simple, but this time around, you managed to rummage about a bit and pull out a long, dark—blue plush robe with remnants of embroidery along the hem. The plush has not been preserved much better: it sports worn—down patches, like the fur of a beast with mange, and the sharp edges of your bark keep poking holes in it]. Not something expected from a newcomer to the Princess's grand feast. [[Next->Ignored Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} When you realized that you needed human clothes for your journey, you came to look in your clan elders' storage coffers (hollow logs, really, with fancy little trap doors attached on either end). These coffers hold supplies that in handy in case one of the dryads needs to go out and mingle with humans (who are apparently not too keen on seeing your people's natural form, covered by naught but a few leafy vines). But your hasty, messy search — which most amounted to digging your hands into the log and sending its contents flying all around you, like a flock of misshapen, musty-smelling birds — yielded only a bundle of different scarves and belts that you secured as best you could on your shoulders and hips, which seem to be the parts humans tend to cover the most often. Not something expected from a newcomer to the Princess's grand feast. [[Next->Ignored Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} A few moments pass, measured by your frantic heartbeat. And then you realize that you have, indeed, failed to make a proper impression. More than that. You have not made any impression at all. No-one in the chamber has even noticed you. To your left, there is a large balcony with fancifully carved railing — which you recognize from the mural of the Princess and her uncle. And in front of you, is a huge empty space: the feast tables have been arranged into a giant bracket at the opposite end of the room. They are laden with long trays and deep bowls and overflowing baskets. The people are reaching, pouring, cutting, and calling to each other and laughing. The red-dressed servants are flitting back and forth with new goblets, new plates, new servings of something that is shaped like giant swans... Cake maybe? Or — or actual swans? Roasted under all the feathers? With an anxious jolt, you do make out the Princess. Sitting in the middle of the main table. (if:$Race is "Human")[You have to squint to make out all the details](if:$Race is "Dryad")[You have to squint to make out all the details](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Even from across the vast chamber, you can clearly see all the details] of her ceremonial wear. Nothing like your silly clothes for sure. Her broad-sleeved overdress — the topmost of what looks like several layers of crispy white and plum-purple fabric, just barely poking from underneath — burns like pure gold in the chamber's blaring firelight. On her head, is an enormous kika: a two-horned headdress, wrapped in gold and scarlet fabric and supporting five colorful disks, representing the same great forces as the five onion-like domes of the temple. Mother Earth's green disk is closest to the Princess's head, resting directly on the kika's horns. On top of it, are three smaller disks, arranged in a row: pearly-white, silver, and amethyst. And the final, crowning tier, is the sun. A golden disk, framed by wavy rays. The kika rests on a skull cap, which is adorned with a veil of beads in the front. It is impossible to see her face(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[, keen senses or no]. But it is still clear that she has turned her head to talk to the woman to her right, their fingers just barely touching over the tablecloth. The woman, tawny-skinned and sharp-cheekboned, has also dressed for the occasion: in golden armor, with five disks inlaid into the chest plate; a red cape; and a polished helm with a long red plume to match. To either side of the Princess and her companion, sits a row of warriors. Their armor bears similar designs, but is wrought from a silvery-white metal, while their capes and plumes are sky-blue. The druzhina, you guess. Too busy talking, eating, and drinking to pay attention to you. You fill your chest with air again, preparing to screen if you have to... But then someone steps on your foot. [[Next->OLM Meeting]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} At the druzhina table, three seats are empty. Three warriors seem to have sneaked off, and are now moving stealthily towards the exit, or maybe the balcony. One of them remains completely silent, stumbling ahead like in a daze, his broad back slightly hunched and hands pressed over his ears. The two others, walking on either side of him, are talking in agitated whispers. Or rather, one is agitated, and the other responds in a quiet monotone. "Lady Lumi! It... It was an honor, really, but I really must be going!" "Why are you sneaking off, Bazhena? This is your feast. Enjoy it. You deserve it." "I... Lady Lumi, please... I have my reasons to be... unsettled by all of this!" "You do? All right. I understand. Okomir here gets overwhelmed in noisy crowds too. That's why I am leading him away." "It's not that; I just... Oh no, I am so so sorry!" That is when one of the sneaky warriors nearly crushes your foot with her silver heel, instantly erupting into a torrent of apologies. She gradually babbles off into silence — noticing that her silent companion has winced and mumbled something incoherent but very discomforted at even more noise. As the pause settles, easing the awkward tension, the four of you relax, giving each other an inquisitive look. You can't help but notice that these three are quite colorful characters, each in their own right... And rather attractive too. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Even if they lack proper glossy fur. ](if:$Race is "Dryad")[Even if they lack proper green branches.] You find yourself especially drawn to... [[Bazhena, the woman that stepped on your foot->Heart Eyes Bazhena Day]] [[Lumi, the woman that was talking to Bazhena->Heart Eyes Lumi Day]] [[Okomir, the silent man->Heart Eyes Okomir Day]] [[None of them in particular ->End OLM Meeting]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Heey you there! Yer new! Sit down! Have a snack!" You turn to one of the two side tables, to see a (either: "human", "wolf", "rat", "hound", "boar", "deer", "sable") (either: "man", "woman", "person") sprawled across at least two seats. Beckoning you. You might have ignored the invitation — after all, you only just recently had to deal with that disturbance at the inn — but your stomach whimpers piteously. You haven't really eaten anything most of the day, and it shows. So you humor the drunk, and lean uncertainly over the table. At this end of the feast chamber, most of the nicer morsels have been either scraped off, or snatched up, or carved apart. You do notice three more or less untouched bowls with simpler cold snacks. One is filled with kasha — a grainy, beady buckwheat porridge slathered in melted butter. The other still holds some salad: boiled beets grated into fine strips and mixed with leeks and sour cream. And the final bowl, as you pull it closer, sloshes with turya — lumpy cubes of bread floating in cold milk. You ponder your choices, and your empty stomach screams for you to hurry up. [[Have kasha->Kasha]] [[Have salad->Salad]] [[Have turya->Turya]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your eyes linger on Bazhena's Alfr-gray face. She meets your gaze with a smile, from under her silver—touched fringe of hair. The smile is apologetic at first, with her broad eyebrows raised till they almost meet her hairline; but then it turns soft and genial, dimples appearing on her round cheeks. Like the druzhina at the table, she is wearing ceremonial armor, crafted perfectly for to her small, full figure. Her many braids are rushing down from under her helmet, and over her cape, like gleaming black rivulets. You think of the black water you discovered, for a moment, but the metaphor does not fit: Bazhena's whole being radiates warmth and comfort. Especially her large, deep brown eyes. [[Next->End OLM Meeting]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your gaze travels to Lady Lumi, taking in her silver armor (which fits her lean, muscular form perfectly), and her impressive height, and her jawline, and her blue-shaded cheeks. All chiseled in bold, square angles, as if out of ice. Her eyes, so light-gray that they appear transparent, dart down to meet yours with a hint of interest... Or perhaps you are imagining it. After all, her snow-white face, with specks of glitter at the cheekbones, like the face of any Dayen from the stories you've heard, is very hard to read. A chill runs up your spine, the stronger the more you look at her... But you do not find that at all unpleasant. [[Next->End OLM Meeting]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You feel rather guilty gawking at Okomir, when he is clearly in distress. But then he draws a few measured breaths, and slowly straightens up, dropping one hand off his ear. When you look into his vivid, bird-yellow eyes with a silent question (which takes a bit of tiptoeing, as he is quite tall; almost as tall as Lumi), he averts his gaze, focusing on your (if:$Race is "Human")[hairline](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "rodent")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "ursine")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[horns](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[antler](if:$Race is "Dryad")[$DryadHead] instead. Still, he gives you a tentative thumbs-up, and then gestures at his mouth. As if to say, "I am feeling a bit better, I just cannot speak at the moment." You nod, and allow yourself a quick glance at his face. It is broad, like all of him, with a generous sprinkling of freckles over his prominent hook of a nose. His hair and beard — brown, with a few touches of gold — bristle in all directions, like the feathers of a bird that puffs itself up when it's brightened. In fact, the texture looks much more like feathers than hair: a hallmark of the Erzi, sky—dwelling shapeshifters. (if:$Race is "Human")[One of your farmhands is Erzi, just as tall and beaky as Okomir. She has always said that her kin themselves don't know if they are birds that can turn into people, or people that can turn into birds.] (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[An Erzi family sometimes come swooping down on Bulochkin to buy snacks: the parents are tall and beaky as Okomir, and the children are covered in gray and white fuzz. They keep saying that their kin themselves don't know if they are birds that can turn into people, or people that can turn into birds. ] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[An Erzi, tall and beaky as Okomir, once descended into your grove, for a pit stop in a long flight. In a conversation with the dryads, he confessed that his kin themselves don't know if they are birds that can turn into people, or people that can turn into birds.] [[Next->End OLM Meeting]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The moment hangs in the air, fluttering on unseen butterfly wings, and then passes. Okomir rolls his shoulders, and suddenly throws himself against the floor. When his chest touches solid ground, his light-brown skin sprouts feathers, starting with the arms, which expand into massive wings. His nose, now solid and yellow, becomes a literal beak, and his freckles and the gold streaks in his hair and beard become patterns on the feathers that cover his face and neck, pressing tight against the holes of his ears. Which must really help block out the noises of the crowd. Okomir and Lumi exchange a curt nod, and the giant bird takes off, flying from the palace balcony into the evening sky. Lumi watches him disappear in the clouds with her clear, pale gray eyes. Something bubbles at the back of her throat, like she is gargling water. She swallows forcefully and comments, still in a monotone voice, "Flying has always made him calm down. Since we were children together." "That's great, Lady Lumi!" Bazhena blurts out. "Frankly, I was getting a bit worried for him! If... If that is allowed. I mean, you are great veteran warriors, and I am — " Lumi's pale gaze snaps to her. "Of course it is allowed. You are one of us now. And please do not address me like this. I am no lady. I never have been. I am a weapon of the Princess. I slay monsters for her, and for the people. As do you." Seeing as the conversation has turned to matters you are not privy to, you withdraw from the two women, set to approach the Princess's table. Maybe she'll notice you if you are hovering right in front of her face. And not get... particularly outraged by it? (if:$Hungry is true)[[[Next->Hungry Passage]]] (if:$Hungry is false)[[[Next->No Hungry Passage]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You hardly make two steps, however, when your stomach, denied a vatrushka earlier today, lets out a long growl. Bazhena's warm dark eyes snap to you, pupils dilating. "You are hungry, good friend!" she cries. "Hurry up and eat!" "I am actually here to see the Princess for a different reason; I have a message — " you point out, but a plump gray hand already grasps yours. "You ought to eat next to the Princess then! Come, I will show you the best treats! If this is supposed to be my feast, seeing to new guests is the least I can do!" She drags you across the chamber, all her previous unease with the feast forgotten for now. In fact, there is gratitude in her eyes: you must have provided a welcome distraction. Lumi also returns to the table, now that Okomir has been taken care of. She even suggests that you have his seat. Her voice and eyes are as colorless as before, but she does press her lips into a smile. If only to be polite. And before you know it, you find yourself perched on a very broad, very tall chair — probably crafted especially to accommodate someone as large as Okomir — while Bazhena fusses over you. It dawns on you suddenly how close you are to the Princess. Close enough to see that her overdress is not actually solid gold, but covered in embossed, endlessly intertwining images of sunflowers with thick stalks and leaves swirling into shapes that you are pretty sure do not occur in real life. You could actually touch those flowers, if you were feeling particularly reckless. Just reach over those overstuffed plates, and... "Bazhena, who is this (if:$PronounNom is "he")[man](if:$PronounNom is "she")[woman](if:$PronounNom is "they")[person]? I don't remember $PronounGen being on the list of guests," the sharp-cheekboned warrior at the Princess' right hand whips her head in your direction. "How did $PronounNom get in here? How can you let $PronounGen sit at the royal table?" She nearly leaps from her seat; you are willing to bet that she has a weapon hidden somewhere, and try desperately to remember there you placed your $Weapon. It's... Probably behind the chair somewhere. Yes. Right. When you finally locate it, you pull it closer to yourself. Just in case. "Oh, uh, Vassa..." Bazhena stutters, pulling at her braids. "This is — " "$Name," you offer quietly, also feeling yourself shrivel somewhat under Vassa's unrelenting eyes. No wonder women like her and Lumi are on the druzhina; they could decimate armies with a glare alone. "$Name! Yes, uh, $PronounNom has an urgent message for Her Highness, but $PronounNom looked hungry after $PronounPos journey, so I told $PronounGen to eat first!" Vassa frowns. (set: $VassaApproves to false)"If $PronounNom $PronounVerbPresent stopping to eat, is $PronounPos message all that urgent?" "Now, Vassa. Don't be too harsh." You start, realizing that the Princess has turned to you too. "Young Bazhena did good," she goes on, in a voice deepened by age, from behind her bead veil. "She upheld the laws of hospitality. Eat, $Name. I will wait." [[Next->Food Offer Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You brave the feast room and, vaguely astonished by your own audacity somewhere at the back of your head, plant yourself directly opposite the Princess. "Your Highness," you begin again, bowing so low that you nearly hit the table with your forehead(if:$Race is "Dryad")[ and branches](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[ and antler](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[ and horns]. "I am your humble subject, $Name. And I have come to you with an important message." The sharp-cheekboned warrior at the Princess' right hand lifts herself slowly from her seat. "You have a lot of nerve, $Name," she says. "That's how I know your message is serious." (set: $VassaApproves to true) "Ah. You certainly had a lot of nerve bursting in here to save your father, back in the day — didn't you, Vassa?" chuckles a voice deepened by age, from behind the bead veil. The Princess has her attention on you. At last. "My family and I found something in the water," you say, bowing again, and scrambling inside your head to find vocabulary fitting an audience with the Princess. "A corruption of sorts. A blight. Like nothing we have ever seen before. It seems to... weaken any living flesh it touches. And it drains color from its... surroundings". Vassa frowns, and the Princess mirrors her motion to stand up. "Come," she says, gesturing at the balcony. "Let us talk there, away from drunken eavesdroppers." She leads the way, her long, graying blond braid snaking across the floor after her. Vassa marches close by. And you, too, hurry after. As you step out of the feast chamber, you are greeted with the final splash of color, before the sunset begins to fade into slate-blue. As the sky darkens, tiny dots of blue begin to rise over the maze of streets underneath the palace. Like fireflies circling in the mist. The Princess leans over the railing, watching the city just as she did in the mural that you saw. Except as a grown woman now. Aged, and maybe slightly tired. "Tell me everything you can think of, $Name. And you, Vassa, listen closely: the druzhina will need a plan for dealing with this." "Understood," Vassa stands on ceremony, armor rattling. You take a long breath, reeling in your scattering memories. All things considered, this has turned out to be easy. ...Too easy. [[Next->Carpet From Balcony]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} It is hard to refuse. What with the Princess herself inviting you to eat. And with your stomach screeching for food more and more demandingly, nigh caving in on itself. And with Bazhena snatching up different dishes from all over the table and piling them up in front of you. Lumi helps with her antics as well, and actually smiles, a fraction less stiffly this time, while also dabbing absentmindedly at the corner of her mouth to wipe something off. Maybe her mouth is watering at the sight of all the food. Yours definitely is! Just as you think that, Lumi — done with wiping her mouth — makes a wave-like motion with her hand: to cast a cloud of magical snowflakes over herself. When the cloud settles, fuzzy and glittering, on her face and caped shoulders, her smile fades. Her face is cast in ice again. But at least she nods at you when the snack pile is complete. You feel an overwhelming compulsion... yes, obviously to dig in — but also to thank your hosts, who drew you in so easily into a royal feast. You especially want to thank... [[Bazhena->Thank Bazhena]] [[Lumi->Thank Lumi]] [[Both->Thank Both]] [[Neither->Thank Neither]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Thank you, Lady Bazhena!" you blurt out. She chuckles, and lovely sparkles dance in her brown eyes. Like miniature stars. "If you have important news, you are an important guest! No, forget that. You are an important guest just because you are here!" "That is correct," the Princess agrees graciously. [[Next->Snacks Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Thank you, Lady Lumi!" you say, a little breathlessly. She inclines her head even deeper, her long blue undercut falling over her eyes. Its shadow makes such a stark contrast with her snowy skin. "You cannot deliver your news if you collapse from starvation, can you?" she points out. There is not a shade of emotion in her voice now — but you could have sworn that, before she used that ice sila, there was... Something. "You were very kind nonetheless." Suddenly, Lumi breaks into a small, flustered cough, and has to summon her snowflake cloud once again. What is with this woman and ice spells, you wonder. [[Next->Snacks Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Thank you!" you beam at them sincerely. "Both of you! You are incredibly kind!" Bazhena beams right back at you, while Lumi suddenly breaks into a small, flustered cough, and has to summon her snowflake cloud once again. What is with this woman and ice spells, you wonder. [[Next->Snacks Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} ...On second thoughts, you are just too hungry to formulate any coherent thanks. So the only sound you make is yet another stomach growl. [[Next->Snacks Day]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You settle a touch more comfortably in Okomir's chair, and eye the treats that Bazhena has pushed the closest to you. There is a plate piled high with potato pancakes, draniki; and another with crisply fried patties, made of carrot mixed with egg. You also catch sight of a kurnik: a round pie stuffed with minced chicken, adorned with decorations sculpted out of dough. More stuffed baked goods, pirozhki, beckon you with their chubby, oven—flushed sides; judging by the faint scent, they have crispy cabbage stuffing. And finally, you see a deep bowl of steaming dumplings, vareniki, probably with something like sweet cherry jam inside; or maybe there are more savory, mushroom ones in there too. Your stomach weeps in agonizing anticipation. [[Have draniki->Draniki]] [[Have carrot patties->Carrot]] [[Have kurnik->Kurnik]] [[Have pirozhki->Pirozhki]] [[Have vareniki->Vareniki]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You reach out for the draniki pancakes, dipping them generously into the jar of sour cream that Bazhena has thoughtfully passed to you. You think you catch a note of onion mixed into the dough, which goes wonderfully with the cool, soothing cream. [[Next->Carpet From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You grab a patty and sink your teeth into it, savoring the rich taste under the slightly charred upper crust. [[Next->Carpet From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You cut yourself a slice of kurnik, and shove it, rather hastily, into your mouth. Not even taking a proper look at the ornaments that you destroy. The juicy chicken stuffing and the still warm dough are just what you need to soothe your stomach's pleas for food. [[Next->Carpet From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You scoop up a couple of pirozhki, greasy and warm, with a good helping of cabbage within. Each lasts for no more than a couple of bites, and you feel like you might just hoard them all. [[Next->Carpet From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Spotting the direction of your greedy gaze, Lumi hands you a sizeable spoon. And with it, you plop down a good scoop of sour cream from the jar that Bazhena has thoughtfully passed to you, till the vareniki swim in it. After that, all you have to do is fish them out, one by one, and bite into them. They are with cherry filling, after all; the jam is hot inside, and the sour cream comes in handy to soothe your mouth. [[Next->Carpet From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (if:$Race is "Human")[You have always been told that ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You have always been told that ](if:$Race is "Dryad")[You have heard that among humans and Beastfolk, ]it is good manners to make loud munching noises to show how much you are enjoying the food. And after Vassa's withering glare, you make sure you munch extra hard. Bazhena cannot but "Aww" softly at your efforts; and Lumi snorts to herself, or so you think. The Princess, thankfully, seems pleased as well: she inclines her head in your direction, beads clinking together. You are prepared to make the final swallow and start talking about the blight you found... But yet another distraction comes along. Your gaze wanders to the balcony. From the royal table, you can watch the sunset fade into slate—blue over the city skyline. And against that patch of sky, a whole silhouette drama plays out, like in a shadow theater. You see a flat, rectangular shape — a flying carpet? — float above the city, carrying two passengers, one of whom is hugging the shoulders of the other. Beside them, there is a heap of... something that you cannot identify, as it is outlined in solid black, just as the two figures. They seem to be... carrying some cargo maybe? Bazhena and Lumi look up from all the snacks they brought you as well. "Are those Lady Ditte and Lord Nour?" Lumi asks, flatly. "Yes!" Bazhena sings. "Mother and Father are finally here!" But her elated expression soon darkens; just as the stern face of Vassa, who, once again, half-stands up — and this time, the Princess does not stop her. Even Lumi frowns, that gargling noise rippling in her ice-pale throat. The carpet lurches, arching like the back of an angry cat. The male passenger — Nour? — tries to regain control of it, by grasping at its front corners. But there is little he can do, with Ditte slumped against him. A bit... too lifelessly. The carpet's corners leap out of his grasp, and the whole silhouetted group — magical transport, passengers, and cargo — careens downwards. Both the Princess and Vassa are now standing, hands interwoven in an anxious clasp. Bazhena has covered her mouth, as if about to retch. And Lumi, after studying Bazhena's face for a moment with a seemingly impassive expression, suddenly wraps her arm around her shoulder, coughing again. The carpet is just about to plummet out of sight, crashing into the ground somewhere far, far, much too painfully far down below... But a new silhouette bursts into the sky. A giant bird with wings so broad that they block out the carpet for a moment. That has to be Okomir. Back in his own element. The entire royal table exhales in relief. As you watch the rest of the scene... [[...You feel rather flustered.->Flustered From Supper]] [[...You do not feel flustered.->Not Flustered From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You know he is in bird form now, but your mind returns to what Okomir looked like as a human. The carpet riders will soon be safe in his strong, broad arms... You wonder if he is comfortable with hugs. With having his hand held. [[Next->Rescue From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You are only focused on what will happen to the carpet, and whether or not Okomir will swoop in on time. [[Next->Rescue From Supper]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} In the sky, the silhouettes whirl in dangerous dance. Okomir glides near the carpet, giving Nour his shoulder — so the human can clamber onto his back, and then pull Ditte in. The carpet, abandoned, shoots down, littering fragments of whatever Nour and Ditte were carrying in its wake. The bird hurtles onto the balcony, the floor screeching under his claws as he slows to a halt. Nour nearly tumbles over his feathered rescuer's head — but Okomir slams his chest into the floor again, and straightens up in human form... With a soft "Ouch" as his head hits a chandelier. "Rescue by bird," Okomir announces, a bit hoarsely. "Highly effective. Ask Lumi some time, about those folks I pulled out of a volcano." Both Nour and Ditte nestle safely in his giant arms. Up close, you realize that they are both soaking wet. Ditte must have been once wearing a one-piece cotton set of undergarments, but now it looks like several holes have been burned in it, mostly around her calves. The holes are black around the edges. An oily, familiar black. Bazhena flails her arms and skirts towards them, cape billowing. Most of the others follow. Okomir, probably beginning to feel overwhelmed again, sets Nour down (while Ditte sags by his side, her legs unable to hold her). Then, he steps into the shadows, eyes glinting. "Mom! Dad!" Bazhena mouths helplessly, with such a lost look that you wonder if she can even hear her own voice. Lumi pats Bazhena's back, her throat contracting. Even Okomir draws closer. He does not quite look at anyone in particular — you notice that direct eye contact, at least in human form, makes him disconcerted — but he bends his arms into stiff hooks on either side of his body. As if unsure if a hug is called for. [[Express your sympathy->Comfort Bazhena]] [[Continue watching the scene->No Comfort Bazhena]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "I am sorry," you tell her, reaching out to rather awkwardly pat the air some inches away from her arm. Your chest aches, and you force out the words that have been clawing at you ever since you saw Ditte's ruined clothing. "...I think I know what happened. Your parents found a sort of... black tar in the water. Causing sickness." Bazhena looks at you with unspoken gratitude, suppressing a small sniffle. Lumi and Okomir also seem pleased that you chose to comfort her — the latter especially, as the former soon erases all traces of approval (or any other expression) with a new gust of snowflakes. And when Bazhena hears about the black tar, her eyes turn enormous, as do Nour's. Under a nearly identical arch of joined eyebrows. Vassa and the Princess stiffen, listening to your conversation intently. Finally. Oh finally. "Yes, yes!" Nour cries out. "This is exactly it! We came to help some vodniks, who thought it was a monster, but it was inanimate — and yet malignant! It... It nearly tainted Ditte." "I am... fine!" Ditte slurs, noticing pain flash across her husband's face, and obstinately trying to shape her limp fingers into a thumbs-up. "Just kind of weak... In the bones... The wooden... suit... over my undies... took most of the damage..." "I... I am no swimmer," Nour goes on, after a pause. "B—but the vodniks helped me pull her out before... Before I lost her." "Shh," Ditte whispers, managing to nuzzle against his cheek. "You were adorable, flailing about in the river... Screeching like a parrot... Among all those vodniks..." He clears his throat. "Yes. Well. I fished out the scant splinters that remained from the diving suit... But the taint dripped from them and ate through our carpet till it became unusable. I... I rather hoped to study them. There is clearly some dark magic at work, and we have to know more!" "We do!" you join in. "We do! (if:$Race is "Human")[Zolotoye farmstead](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Bulochkin](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the Great Birch Grove] has been affected too!" "I need a map," Vassa cuts in, decisive like the strike of a blade. "If we mark the locations where the taint was spotted, perhaps we can track the source — " [[Next->Baba Yaga Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} As you remain silent, Bazhena keeps trying to ask her parents a question — so many questions, which come out all jumbled. "What... Why is..." "I am... fine!" Ditte slurs, obstinately trying to shape her limp fingers into a thumbs-up. "Just kind of weak... In the bones... The wooden... suit... over my undies... took most of the damage..." "I... I am no swimmer," Nour stutters, scanning the crowd around him from under a panicked arch of his joined eyebrows. Much like his daughter's. "B—but the vodniks helped me pull her out before... Before I lost her." "Shh," Ditte whispers, managing to nuzzle against his cheek. "You were adorable, flailing about in the river... Screeching like a parrot... Among all those vodniks..." A pause seeps in, and you dare voice a question that has been clawing at you ever since you saw Ditte's ruined clothing. "Pardon me," you tail after Nour as he and Bazhena begin to steer Ditte to the nearest seat. "My name is $Name. And i really want to ask... Did the thing that... caused this damage... Look like some sort of odd black tar in the water? Carrying sickness?" Nour's eyes turn enormous. Vassa and the Princess stiffen, listening to your conversation intently. Finally. Oh finally. "Yes, yes, good $Name!" Nour cries. "This is exactly it! The vodniks thought it was a monster, but it was inanimate — and yet malignant! I fished out the scant splinters that remained from the diving suit... But the taint dripped from them and ate through our carpet till it became unusable. I... I rather hoped to study them. There is clearly some dark magic at work, and we have to know more!" "We do!" you join in. "We do! (if:$Race is "Human")[Zolotoye farmstead](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Bulochkin](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the Great Birch Grove] has been affected too!" "I need a map," Vassa cuts in, decisive like the strike of a blade. "If we mark the locations where the taint was spotted, perhaps we can track the source — " [[Next->Baba Yaga Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Vassa is interrupted by a deep rumble that rolls under the very foundation of the palace, making the floor wobble like a single, freshly cut plank of wood. Fearful that the balcony might collapse, everyone takes off in a miniature stampede, pushing as deep into the feast chamber as possible. And in there, the crowd is greeted by a burst of light. Like many, many thunderbolts melted into one. So searing that you feel like your eyeballs have been sliced in two. Gradually, the aching dark before your eyes dissolves into grainy floating spots, and then to nothing. When your vision swirls back to normal, you see that... Something very odd has landed in the middle of the chamber. It looks like a giant butter churner that has been left out in the deep woods for a couple dozen years. Its sides are fuzzy with thick, moist moss, and trails of tiny, jelly-like white mushrooms run in between the soft tufts. Sometimes, the mushroom caps are bigger — bright red in color, with speckles of white. The same mushrooms, and the same moss, cover the knotty limbs of the butter churner's occupant. An ancient hag, with a nose and chin so long and sharp that their tips almost touch; and with a single yellow tooth sticking out from her bottom jaw. (if:$Race is "Human")[This can't be Baba Yaga, can it? You've heard of her; everyone has, if they have been remotely naughty as a child. But you thought her make—believe — a cautionary tale that parents scare their children with. "If you misbehave, Baba Yaga will show up in her flying butter churner, and add your bone marrow to your soup!" ...Fair enough, in the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, it can be hard to tell make—believe from fact. You did just meet a ghost, after all! But still, you always assumed...](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[This can't be Baba Yaga, can it? You've heard of her; everyone has, if they have been remotely naughty as a child. But you thought her make—believe — a cautionary tale that parents scare their cubs with. "If you misbehave, Baba Yaga will show up in her flying butter churner, and add your bone marrow to your soup!" ...Fair enough, in the Three Score And Nine Kingdoms, it can be hard to tell make—believe from fact. You did just meet a ghost, after all! But still, you always assumed...] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You gasp, recognizing the hag. That is Baba Yaga! She watches over a verdant swamp, just as your kin watch over the Grove. She even visited your elders once, when you were a sapling. An adult clan member caught you gawping at her butter churner, which she left in a clearing before heading to see the elders. You may have... tried to climb inside. "Caution with Baba Yaga," the adult told you, yanking you back. "She may be sister to us nature guardians — but her wrath is as dangerous as her swamp." What... What could she be doing here?] [[Next->Turned to Stone]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You hardly get another word out, when you are interrupted. Something flat and rectangular zooms past the balcony, cast in a pastel blue glow by the floating lights. It's a carpet, floating magically in the air. At this distance, you can see it quite clearly(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[, even making out its stripy patterns]. It is carrying two passengers. A human man with graying black curls, and an Alfr woman, who is resting in his arms, ragdoll-like, with her head rolling onto her chest. They both look absolutely bedraggled: the man's hair is sticking to his forehead, and his robe, to his back; while the woman is wearing a one-piece cotton set of undergarments, once white, now gray with muddy water. More than that, there have been several holes burned into her underthings, mostly around her calves. The holes are black around the edges. An oily, familiar black. The same substance is oozing in heavy, slow streaks down the pile of splinters that the many and the woman are carrying with them on the carpet for some reason. Burning the same holes in the enchanted fabric. Vassa stands on tiptoe next to the much taller (with kika of otherwise) Princess. "Are those... Nour and Ditte? Something's wrong." Something's very wrong. Before the man — Nour? — can steer the carpet to the safety of the palace by pulling at its front corners, they jerk out of his grasp, and the carpet careens dangerously downwards. It slips rapidly from your field of view, passengers, splinters and all. On its way to hit the ground somewhere far, far, much too painfully far down below. Vassa leans over the railing, spreading her fingers apart, reaching desperately for Nour's hand. But the distance is still too great. She grasps at nothing but air, grinding her teeth with the strain and helpless frustration. The Princess wraps her arms around Vassa's waist, pulling the small woman back and turning her head away mournfully. But then, a new figure bursts into the sky. A giant bird with shining copper wings: so broad that they block out the carpet for a moment. That has to be Okomir. Back in his own element. Vassa and the Princess exhale in relief. As you watch the rest of the scene... [[...You feel rather flustered.->Flustered From Balcony]] [[...You do not feel flustered.->Not Flustered From Balcony]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} In the sky, the carpet and the bird whirl in dangerous dance. Okomir glides up to Nour — so the human can clamber onto his back, and then pull Ditte in. Not a moment later, the carpet, abandoned, shoots down, littering fragments of whatever Nour and Ditte were carrying in its wake. The bird hurtles onto the balcony, the floor screeching under his claws as he slows to a halt. Nour nearly tumbles over his feathered rescuer's head — but Okomir slams his chest into the floor again, and straightens up in human form... With a soft "Ouch" as his head hits a chandelier. "Rescue by bird," Okomir announces, a bit hoarsely. "Highly effective. Ask Lumi some time, about those folks I pulled out of a volcano." He sets Nour and Ditte down, and the latter instantly sags beside the former, her legs unable to hold her. Probably still rather overwhelmed by the feast, Okomir gives Nour and Ditte space, and steps into the shadows, eyes glinting. At this exact moment, the feast chamber's door creaks open again. Bazhena pokes her head in, Lumi towering behind her back. "Um, hello?" she ventures, rolling her head left and right. "I was esca... I mean, catching some air, and then I saw some sort of commotion in the sky, from the gallery?" Her words still hang in the air when she realizes who has arrived. "Mom! Dad!" she cries out — and skirts to the balcony, cape billowing. Lumi strides after her, eyebrows knotted, undercut lying. So these two are Bazhena's parents. You can see the resemblance, certainly. After stumbling onto the balcony with Lumi in her wake, Bazhena glances from Nour to Ditte, repeating her "Mom" and "Dad" over and over again, with such a lost look that you wonder if she can even hear her own voice. Lumi pats Bazhena's back, her throat contracting. Even Okomir draws closer. He does not quite look at anyone in particular — you notice that direct eye contact, at least in human form, makes him disconcerted — but he bends his arms into stiff hooks on either side of his body. As if unsure if a hug is called for. [[Express your sympathy->Comfort Bazhena Balcony]] [[Continue watching the scene->No Comfort Bazhena Balcony]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "I am sorry," you tell Bazhena, reaching out to rather awkwardly pat the air some inches away from her arm. Your chest aches, and you force out the words that have been clawing at you ever since you saw what happened to the carpet. And Ditte. "...I think I know what happened. Your parents found a sort of... black tar in the water. Causing sickness." Bazhena looks at you with unspoken gratitude, suppressing a small sniffle. Lumi and Okomir also seem pleased that you chose to comfort her — the latter especially, as the former soon erases all traces of approval (or any other expression) with a new gust of snowflakes. And when Bazhena hears about the black tar, her eyes turn enormous, as do Nour's. Under a nearly identical arch of joined eyebrows. "Yes, yes!" Nour cries out. "This is exactly it! We came to help some vodniks, who thought it was a monster, but it was inanimate — and yet malignant! It... It nearly tainted Ditte." "I am... fine!" Ditte slurs, noticing pain flash across her husband's face, and obstinately trying to shape her limp fingers into a thumbs-up. "Just kind of weak... In the bones... The wooden... suit... over my undies... took most of the damage..." "I... I am no swimmer," Nour goes on, after a pause. "B—but the vodniks helped me pull her out before... Before I lost her." "Shh," Ditte whispers, managing to nuzzle against his cheek. "You were adorable, flailing about in the river... Screeching like a parrot... Among all those vodniks..." He clears his throat. "Yes. Well. I fished out the scant splinters that remained from the diving suit... But the taint dripped from them and ate through our carpet till it became unusable. I... I rather hoped to study them. There is clearly some dark magic at work, and we have to know more!" "We do!" you join in. "We do! I was just telling her Highness about the blight I found! It looked just like what you described!" "So it's spreading..." Ditte murmurs. "What is that stuff even?" "I need a map," Vassa cuts in, decisive like the strike of a blade. "If we mark the locations where the taint was spotted, perhaps we can track the source — " [[Next->Baba Yaga Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} As you remain silent, Bazhena keeps trying to ask her parents a question — so many questions, which come out all jumbled. "What... Why is..." "I am... fine!" Ditte slurs, obstinately trying to shape her limp fingers into a thumbs-up. "Just kind of weak... In the bones... The wooden... suit... over my undies... took most of the damage..." "I... I am no swimmer," Nour stutters, scanning the crowd around him from under a panicked arch of his joined eyebrows. Much like his daughter's. "B—but the vodniks helped me pull her out before... Before I lost her." "Shh," Ditte whispers, managing to nuzzle against his cheek. "You were adorable, flailing about in the river... Screeching like a parrot... Among all those vodniks..." A pause seeps in, and you dare voice a question that has been clawing at you ever since you saw what happened to the carpet. And Ditte. "Pardon me," you tail after Nour as he and Bazhena begin to steer Ditte to the nearest seat. "My name is $Name. And i really want to ask... Did the thing that... caused this damage... Look like some sort of odd black tar in the water? Carrying sickness?" Nour's eyes turn enormous. Vassa and the Princess stiffen, listening to your conversation intently. Finally. Oh finally. "Yes, yes, good $Name!" Nour cries. "This is exactly it! The vodniks thought it was a monster, but it was inanimate — and yet malignant! I fished out the scant splinters that remained from the diving suit... But the taint dripped from them and ate through our carpet till it became unusable. I... I rather hoped to study them. There is clearly some dark magic at work, and we have to know more!" "So it's spreading..." Ditte murmurs. "What is that stuff even?" "I need a map," Vassa cuts in, decisive like the strike of a blade. "If we mark the locations where the taint was spotted, perhaps we can track the source — " [[Next->Baba Yaga Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You settle on kasha. Finding a spoon that looks more or less sanitary, you scrape together the buttered grains and stuff as much of them as you can into your mouth. The kasha is not too fancy, flavor-wise, but filling. Definitely better than scraping dust against your teeth during an endless day on the road. [[Next->Drunk Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You grab a spoon, examine it suspiciously, and after finding it sort of clean, dig into the salad. The beets in sour cream have a smooth texture, with a little bite from the leeks. A simple, filling flavor. Much better than having to crunch on dust after you were kicked off the cart and left on the road. [[Next->Drunk Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (if:$Race is "Human")[You are rather surprised to find turya here, on the royal feast table. It's usually served to small children, or elderly people with very teeth. But you can't complain. Nor will you.](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[You are rather surprised to find turya here, on the royal feast table. It's usually served to small children, or elderly people with very teeth. But you can't complain. Nor will you.] Miraculously, you manage to locate a reasonably clean spoon. With it firm in your grasp, you dig into the turya. The soggy bread and the dregs of milk may not look too appealing, but they are easy to swallow, and soothe your hinder quickly. A lovely snack after so many hours swallowing dust on the road. [[Next->Drunk Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} After you gulp down your last morsel, you dare to probe the soil, and address the drunk — who has been watching you all the while, apparently very pleased that you accepted the invitation; with hand on chin. "So uh... Where is the Princess? I kind of need to talk to her?" The drunk perks up. Itching to tell you a story, apparently. "Oooh she is on the blackony... ball-cone-ey... palace shelf." The drunk gestures broadly... And then suddenly grabs a few crumbs off the table and shoves them into your face, pantomiming exactly what happened. "So we were just getting started right, and then this carpet flies in..." The drunk wobbles a beet leaf past your nose, making whirring noises. "You know, a flying carpet! Lady Ditte is on there, one of us — great fighter, best battle cry — in a pretty bad shape. Her man is holding her, all sad-faced. There's holes in the carpet, like from a fire... but not... And it can't fly like this, so it begins to fall..." The drunk dips the leaf down and guides it towards the tabletop, in dramatic spiraling motions. "But wait! Another fellow, also one of us, comes to save them!" The drunk propels a bed crumb with the other hand, till it bumps into the beet leaf. "It's Ok—mir... Ooohmir... The bird guy! You know!" You don't know, but you go on watching politely, hoping to see the point some time soon. "He sneaked off earlier... Cuz he doesn't like crowds, poor sod... But now he's back! And he pulls Ditte and her man onto the... shelf, before the carpet falls! And the Princess is all worried, because hey... Ditte is one of the best; and her man does clever stuff too... So she runs to them; and boss Vassa runs too; and some of the others... But me and some boys here, we stay on and party! Do you know how little we get to party? After kicking the arises of so many freaky things? Did you know what I saw last week? A cursed tree with people stuck in it! Still alive! Bleeding! Trees aren't supposed to eat people!" (if:$Race is "Dryad")[No, they truly aren't. You have not seen cursed trees yourself, but you heard stories. It's no wonder the poor soul decided to get so drunk afterwards.] You nod at the drunk sympathetically, and, amid farewell wails about cursed trees, get up and head for the balcony. [[Next->Balcony Crowd]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You really should have noticed the crowd that has gathered here before you came in. There is a whole shining circle of armored warriors (much more sober than the ones in the feast chamber), surrounding two people, who are sitting on the floor and holding on to each other. One is a human man with graying black curls. The other is an Alfr woman — Ditte, you assume. She rests in "her man's" arms, ragdoll-like, with her head rolling onto her chest — but is still making stilted attempts at pressing her hand into a thumbs-up gesture, or into a fist for a playful shove. Anything to let "her man" — Nour, she calls him, in a muffled, slow voice — know that she is still alive. They both look absolutely bedraggled: Nour's hair is sticking to his forehead, and his robe, to his back; while Ditte is wearing a one-piece cotton set of undergarments, once white, now gray with muddy water. More than that, there have been several holes burned into her underthings, mostly around her calves. The holes are black around the edges. An oily, familiar black. You shift even closer, a realization thrumming within you: a nauseatingly fast pulse that almost makes you wish you hadn't eaten anything off the royal table. For a moment, your gaze meets that of the three warriors that are standing closest to Ditte and Nour, trying to comfort them as best they can. Despite the tension of the moment, you note to yourself that they look quite... Striking. (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[Even if they lack proper glossy fur. ](if:$Race is "Dryad")[Even if they lack proper green branches.] Your gaze especially lingers on... [[...The small, fat woman who is clasping Nour's hand->Heart Eyes Bazhena Night]] [[...The tall, lean woman who is patting the small woman's shoulder->Heart Eyes Lumi Night]] [[...The big, beefy man who has his arms around them both->Heart Eyes Okomir Night]] [[None of the three in particular->Spotted Princess]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} This woman seems the most distressed about what happened to Ditte, and it's easy to guess why. These two must be her parents. She has Ditte's lead-gray skin, and her ears are slightly pointed. But her brown eyes — and her very expression, with broad, arched eyebrows — are just like Nour's. Same goes for her hair. The only trace of Alfr is the white fringe over her eyes; but her many braids are rushing down from under her helmet, and over her cape, are gleaming black. Like little dark rivulets. You think of the black water you discovered, for a moment, but the metaphor does not fit: even through her anguish, the small woman's whole being radiates warmth. When you meet her eyes, you try your best to smile. Even if it is a meaningless comfort from a stranger, you still try your best. And, unexpectedly, incredibly, she smiles back, little dimples appearing on her cheeks. [[Next->Spotted Princess]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your gaze travels to the pale warrior — a Dayen, you think — that is standing behind Nour, Ditte, and the small woman with gray skin and brown eyes, who has to be the daughter of those two. The warrior is silent, yet protective, like the statue-esque guardian of the little family. You take in her silver armor (which fits her lean, muscular form perfectly), and her impressive height, and her jawline, and her blue-shaded cheeks. All carved in bold, square angles, as if out of ice. Her eyes, so light-gray that they appear transparent, dart down to meet yours with a hint of curiosity... Or perhaps you are imagining it. After all, her snow-white face, which has specks of glitter at the cheekbones, like the face of any Dayen from the stories you've heard, is very hard to read. At one point, her expression does crack; she grips the smaller woman's shoulder tighter, and mutters something sympathetic... But that very instant, a hacking cough ploughs through her chest. She falls back, pressing her hand against her mouth — and soothes her cough in very unexpected way. By casting a cloud of magical snowflakes over herself. When the cloud settles, fuzzy and glittering, on her face and caped shoulders, her features settle into a mask again. Chiseled to frosty perfection. A chill runs up your spine, the stronger the more you look at her... But you do not find that at all unpleasant. [[Next->Spotted Princess]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You cannot but gawk at the massive warrior that has placed one hand on the taller woman's shoulder, and the other on the smaller woman's. Keeping them grounded in a kind of silent, very loose hug. As you meet his vivid, bird-yellow eyes, he averts his gaze, focusing on your (if:$Race is "Human")[hairline](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "rodent")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "ursine")[ears](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[horns](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[antler](if:$Race is "Dryad")[$DryadHead] instead. Seeing how he struggles with direct eye contact, you also switch your attention to studying the rest of his face. It is broad, like all of him, with a generous sprinkling of freckles over his prominent hook of a nose. His hair and beard — brown, with a few touches of gold — bristle in all directions, like the feathers of a bird that puffs itself up when it's brightened. In fact, the texture looks much more like feathers than hair. You guess that he is the one that the drunk described as the "bird guy". One of the Erzi, sky-dwelling shapeshifters. (if:$Race is "Human")[One of your farmhands is Erzi, just as tall and beaky as Okomir. She has always said that her kin themselves don't know if they are birds that can turn into people, or people that can turn into birds.] (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[An Erzi family sometimes come swooping down on Bulochkin to buy snacks: the parents are tall and beaky as Okomir, and the children are covered in gray and white fuzz. They keep saying that their kin themselves don't know if they are birds that can turn into people, or people that can turn into birds. ] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[An Erzi, tall and beaky as Okomir, once descended into your grove, for a pit stop in a long flight. In a conversation with the dryads, he confessed that his kin themselves don't know if they are birds that can turn into people, or people that can turn into birds.] [[Next->Spotted Princess]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The moment hangs in the air, fluttering on unseen butterfly wings, and then passes. You give the little group some privacy — and turn away to find the Princess in the crowd. At last. She is easy to spot among her caped warriors. By attire alone. On her head, is an enormous kika: a two-horned headdress, wrapped in gold and scarlet fabric and supporting five colorful disks, representing the same great forces as the five onion-like domes of the temple. Mother Earth's green disk is closest to the Princess's head, resting directly on the kika's horns. On top of it, are three smaller disks, arranged in a row: pearly-white, silver, and amethyst. And the final, crowning tier, is the sun. A golden disk, framed by wavy rays. The kika rests on a skull cap, which is adorned with a veil of beads in the front. It is impossible to see her face,(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ keen senses or no]. But it is still clear that she is giving her full attention to the woman by her side. That woman, tawny-skinned and sharp-cheekboned, also rather stands out among the other warriors. Her armor is gold, not silver, with five disks inlaid into the chest plate; and her cape and helm plume are gold. If anyone looks like the "boss", that would be her. You remember the drunk calling her Vassa. In her hands, Vassa is holding a quill and a map, where she is scribbling furiously on the margins. "So, once again," she asks Ditte, in a sharp, let's-get-down-to-business tone. "You had your strength drained by... black water in the vodniks' river? Right... here?" She jabs her quill at the map, and Ditte nods. "The wooden... suit... over my undies... took most of the damage... Nour really saved me there... And fished me out too..." "I... I am no swimmer," Nour laughs nervously. With not a shred of merriment. "B—but the vodniks helped me pull her out before... Before I lost her." "Shh," Ditte whispers, managing to nuzzle against his cheek. "You were adorable, flailing about in the river... Screeching like a parrot... Among all those vodniks..." A pause seeps in, and you dare barge into the crowd, to voice a question that has been clawing at you ever since you saw what happened to the carpet. And Ditte. [[Next->Explains Blight]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Hello!" you announce, squirming a little as so many helmeted heads snap to you in unison. You hope you won't have to poke at anyone with your $Weapon. "My name is $Name. I came all the way here from (if:$Race is "Human")[Zolotoye farmstead](if:$Beastfolk is "")[Bulochkin](if:$Race is "Dryad")[the Great Birch Grove]. To bring Her Highness news of the blight we found in the water. It looks a lot like what you are talking about. Black as tar; and sort of... Life-sapping." Vassa points her quill at you, like the tip of a blade. You stiffen, ready to get arrested for breaching probably some half a dozen royal protocols... But instead she just says, "You have a lot nerve, $Name of Zolotoye/Bulochkin/the Grove. Good. That's how you save your home, and your family."(set: $VassaApproves to true) "Ah. You certainly had a lot of nerve bursting in here to save your father, back in the day — didn't you, Vassa?" The Princess sighs wistfully, before extending her arm to trace a semi—circle between herself and you. A gesture of hospitality. "Welcome to my palace, $Name. I wish I could have greeted you under better circumstances. This is Vassa; these are two of my best druzhina warriors, Lumi and Okomir..." She nods at the icy Dayen and the Erzi, respectively. They both bow to you; Okomir's bow is slightly more enthusiastic. "And this is our latest arrival, Bazhena." She turns to the daughter of Ditte and Nour, who suddenly shrinks her head into her shoulders. "Join us, as we investigate this odd blight." "Yes," says Vassa. "Let us mark the place where you found the black water on the map too. Maybe this way, we will trace the source, and — " [[Next->Baba Yaga Appears]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} With an agility you would never have expected from someone literally covered in moss, the hag leaps out of the butter churner and lands on the floor. Her gown and apron, and even the scarf she has lied over her forehead, are tightly woven from the springs of dry plants... You think you can smell nettles? Her tattered skirt rises unevenly over one of her legs — revealing that it, too, has been bleached to the lifeless color of bone. She limps towards the Princess, leaning over a gnarled staff (which is also coated in plenty of moss). "You!" she croaks, snapping her fingers right in the Princess' face. The snap crackles through the air with an unnatural force. It hits the Princess like an unseen whip, making her kika tilt to the side. Vassa is about to leap to the Princess' defense — but she catches her feisty warrior by the wrist. "What has angered you, honored swamp grandmother?" the Princess asks, swallowing down the quiver in her voice. "You!" Baba Yaga repeats. "You frolic and you feast in your hilltop palace, while the water runs black with poison, and the land in your care withers and dies! Shame on you, Princess Zabava! Shame on you and yours! And may this shame hold you in binds until the water is cleansed!" With that, she knocks at the floor with her staff. Where its tip comes hammering down, a streak of gray appears. Hard and grainy, like a sliver of rock. Springing alive — and yet still flat, trapped within the surface of the floor — it races off from the staff, fast as a striking viper. Then, another snake just like it wiggles from under the staff. And another. They spread through the floor, towards the Princess, towards Ditte, towards the warriors standing or sitting throughout the feast chamber. And whomever they find, whomever they bite, gets dipped into the same grainy gray. From the feet up, in a matter of seconds. As soon as the gray consumes the last hair, the last helm plume, on the tip of the quarry's head, their whole body freezes. In whichever pose they had when the little snake caught up with them — relentless, unstoppable, hungry. They turn to stone. [[Next->Ch 6]]

CHAPTER 6. YAGA'S LESSON {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The snakes of gray, unleashed by the strike of Baba Yaga's staff, are still fanning out from one end of the feast chamber to another. Every few moments, they leave a new statue in their wake. Some try to dodge them, scattering, stumbling — but that only means that some of the stone prisoners freeze up on their hands and knees, or reaching desperately for the door, with one leg bent in the knee and raised high in the air. You have escaped the snakes so far — as have your three new acquaintances from the druzhina: Okomir, Lumi, and Bazhena. Nour has avoided evaded the snakes as well. Somehow. In truth, he might as well have gotten petrified already: the way he stands, speechless, with both hands over his heart, staring blankly at the motionless, silent Alfr that, a moment ago, was his wife. Bazhena, whom Okomir has helped clamber onto a table (before grabbing Nour under his arm next), is not faring much better. "Well, at least we got the idea for a new game! The floor is snakes!" Okomir jokes, to lighten the father's and daughter's mood. He sounds out of breath, and not very convincing. "Very appropriate, Okomir," says Lumi, in between ever-mounting spikes of coughing. Okomir narrows his yellow eyes. "You are being sarcastic, aren't you? You do like being sarcastic." "Yes..." she croaks — leaping over the snakes all the while. "I'd have loved to be icy and deadpan, but I can't... Not in the middle of... This." And finally, there is Vassa. She, too, is still in her flesh-and-blood for. Shaking in helpless rage. For the tall, regally poised statue of the Princess, has failed to respond to any of her hoarse "Zabava! Zabava! Zabava!!!". (if:$Race is "Human")[[[Next->Yaga Battle]]](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[[[Next->Yaga Battle]]] (if:$Race is "Dryad")[Something needs to be done before the entire chamber, and then the palace beyond it, falls to these stone snakes. And as a dryad, you wonder if you can appeal to the ancient swamp grandmother. If she is doing this because she thinks this will protect her home, you might have common ground. ...Or maybe not. She did not care to listen to the Princess; why should she ever listen to you? [[Try to reason with Baba Yaga->Yaga Persuasion]] [[Hold your tongue->Yaga Battle]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (if:$Race is "Dryad")[You keep silent, and the snakes continue to spread. ]Among the people around you, Lumi is the first to try to act. Even as her chest is heaving with the loudest, most devastating cough yet; and there is... No, not blood: water, streaming out of her contorted mouth. She ignores these symptoms, much as she can. Instead of using snowy sila to heal herself, she summons a glinting, deep-blue ice spike under her feet. It propels her forward, without the risk of touching the floor and being bitten by one of the flat stone snakes. "Okomir, freeze and snatch!" she exclaims. "On it!" Okomir responds. Finding a snake-free spot on the floor, he throws himself down against it. When his chest hits the solid surface, his human form melts away into that of a giant bird. He soars towards the ceiling; and down below, Lumi unleashes a broad ray of dazzling blue light. It hits Baba Yaga, who is too startled by Lumi's retaliation to as much as sidestep out of the way. A coat of rime builds up over the nettle skirt; and Baba Yaga's feet, clad into lapti shoes (also woven from nettles) turn to blocks of ice. Heavy as anchors; pinning her into place. While Baba Yaga writhes, grinding her jutting tooth against the (probably few) ones inside her mouth, Okomir plummets at her from above, locking his claws over her staff and tugging it free. The snakes vanish. The handful of people that have not yet been petrified (yourself included) release a husky, trapped breath. But Baba Yaga does not take too long to come to her senses. While her feet may still be shackled by ice, but her mossy arms are free. And if she has sila within her (which you assume is brimming over her ancient body, like soup in a cauldron), she does not need a staff to unleash some terrible spell on Lumi. Or Okomir. Or Bazhena and Nour. All of whom are within her reach. As are you, for that matter. [[Protect Lumi->Protect Lumi]] [[Protect Okomir->Protect Okomir]] [[Protect Bazhena->Protect Bazhena]] [[Duck out of sight->Hide from Yaga]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} It's worth a try, at least, you decide. With an agitated rustle of your $DryadHead, you step forward, as far as the snakes allow you. "O... O great Baba Yaga! I understand your anger! I was taught to do whatever it takes to protect my Grove, too! But maybe you are... Overreacting?" For a moment, Baba Yaga lifts her staff off the ground, which puts the snakes to rest. Her long nose twitches, sucking in your scent with a faint whistle. (if:$GotComb is false)[ "Bleurgh!" she flaps her long tongue, disgusted. "Your $DryadHead smell of disrespect, little sapling. You reject the gifts offered to you by beings of sila! Why should I care what you have to say?" She brings her staff down once more. And sends the snakes crawling to and fro all over again. [[Next->Yaga Battle]]] (if:$GotComb is true)["Hmmm... I smell respect upon your $DryadHead, little sapling. Respect towards the gifts offered to you by beings of sila." She sniffs again. "Now, what about the souls of the dead... You had a run-in with the old (if:$Ghost is "Willem")[knight](if:$Ghost is "Grusha")[klyuchnitsa] recently, didn't you..." You blink rapidly, scarcely believing that she can deduce that much from your scent alone. (if:$GhostStatus is "Hostile")["Bleurgh!" Baba Yaga flaps her long tongue, disgusted. "You caused the ghost nothing but anguish! Your bark reeks of it! Why should I care what you have to say?" She brings her staff down once more. And sends the snakes crawling to and fro all over again. [[Next->Yaga Battle]]] (if:$GhostStatus is "MovedOn")["Hmm..." Baba Yaga strokes her long chin with her mushroom-covered hand. "The ghost moved on in peace, it seems. Very well. Speak." "You said that the Princess was feasting and frolicking..." you venture carefully, giving a very wary side-eye to Baba Yaga's staff. (Set: $ProtectLumi to false) (Set: $ProtectOkomir to false) (Set: $ProtectBazhena to false) "...But she just started looking into the poison in the water! We figured out that there are at least two places where it has seeped in: the vodniks' river and..." The hag laughs. A bitter, howling laugh that makes the chandeliers on the ceiling rattle. "Two places! Two places! You know nothing, sapling! You and your little friends need a new lesson, then!" [[Next->Butter Churner]]] (if:$GhostStatus is "Friend")["Hmm..." Baba Yaga strokes her long chin with her mushroom-covered hand. "The ghost remained to wander this world, but I sense no anguish. Very well. Speak." "You said that the Princess was feasting and frolicking..." you venture carefully, giving a very wary side-eye to Baba Yaga's staff. (Set: $ProtectLumi to false) (Set: $ProtectOkomir to false) (Set: $ProtectBazhena to false) "...But she just started looking into the poison in the water! We figured out that there are at least two places where it has seeped in: the vodniks' river and..." The hag laughs. A bitter, howling laugh that makes the chandeliers on the ceiling rattle. "Two places! Two places! You know nothing, sapling! You and your little friends need a new lesson, then!" [[Next->Butter Churner]]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (Set: $ProtectLumi to true) (Set: $ProtectOkomir to false) (Set: $ProtectBazhena to false)Lumi has unsummoned her ice spike, sinking heavily to the floor. And still coughing. Her outburst of sila must have taken a lot out of her. When Baba Yaga notices that, her eyes, watery and sunken under her scarf, spring alight with a predatory flash. She flexes the fingers of one mossy hand, and thorns, long, hard, reddish in color, push out of her palm. She then extends her arm, palm facing Lumi. Your limbs turn as icy-cold as Lumi's skin. You have guessed that Baba Yaga is getting ready to shoot those thorns forth. To puncture Lumi's throat with them. Or maybe her eyes. Without second thought, you leap in front of Lumi, brandishing your $Weapon.... And hear a reckless scream burst from your mouth. Just as sharp, as biting, as the thorns would have been. "Stop this, Baba Yaga! Stop punishing us! We only just learned about the poison! We were trying to figure out what to do with it!" [[Next->Yaga Response]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (Set: $ProtectLumi to false) (Set: $ProtectOkomir to true) (Set: $ProtectBazhena to false)Okomir, still in bird form, is circling under the ceiling with the staff in his claws. The look in his yellow eyes (which you remember not to look into directly, just in case) is nearly mischievous. And it is driving Baba Yaga angry beyond all reason. She rolls her jowls, her lips curling a loop — like an overturned bean. Then, she spits somewhere in the bird's direction, and plucks a green thread from her nettle gown. Her gnarly fingers roll and chafe the thread; and in her grasp, it grows longer, thicker, sprouting green barbs. Soon, she will be able to wield it like a whip: to sling it over one of Okomir's feet and reel him in. Tie him down. Possibly sink those barbs under his feathers, rupturing his flesh. Without second thought, you leap in front of Okomir, brandishing your $Weapon... And hear a reckless scream burst from your mouth. Just as biting as the whip would have been. "Stop this, Baba Yaga! Stop punishing us! We only just learned about the poison! We were trying to figure out what to do with it! [[Next->Yaga Response]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (Set: $ProtectLumi to false) (Set: $ProtectOkomir to false) (Set: $ProtectBazhena to true)Nour and Bazhena are still standing on the table, hugging each other and staring down at Ditte. But presently, Bazhena gently slips from under her father's arm, and jumps down to the floor. "Please!" she calls to the hag, approaching her with open arms and an open, sincere, warm gaze. "None of these people did anything to deserve... This!" "Didn't they now!" Baba Yaga carves into Bazhena's soft form with her angry glare's dagger. Bazhena is standing close enough for her to reach — and reach she does. Her nails are dark and hard with age, and there is a silky, glowing thread weaving between them, conjured by sila. Thin s gossamer, yet seemingly as hard as a bow string. All that the hag needs is one lunge. And then the thread will cut into Bazhena's throat, choking her. Without second thought, you leap in front of Bazhena, brandishing your $Weapon... And hear a reckless scream burst from your mouth. Just as cutting as the thread would have been. "Stop this, Baba Yaga! Stop punishing us! We only just learned about the poison! We were trying to figure out what to do with it!" [[Next->Yaga Response]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (Set: $ProtectLumi to false) (Set: $ProtectOkomir to false) (Set: $ProtectBazhena to false) ...You would have loved to charge in and help, but panic overtakes you at the very last moment. So you slink away, hiding behind the broad, caped back of the nearest statue: a (either: "human", "bear", "badger", "wolverine", "reindeer", "lynx", "dog") warrior that has evidently been petrified in the middle of making off with a pile of provisions in (either: "his", "her", "their") arms. Also turned to stone: a perfectly sculpted loaf of bread and wheel of cheese and trail of sausages, frozen in mid—air. From your hiding spot, you observe what unfolds next. Baba Yaga's eyes dart from Okomir to Lumi to Bazhena; and the air around her almost audibly thrums with the turning of the cogs and gears in her grotesque head. She just cannot make up her mind. But in the end, she settles on Okomir. Still in bird form, he is circling under the ceiling with the staff in his claws. Appearing almost... mischievous. And it is driving Baba Yaga angry beyond all reason. She rolls her jowls, her lips curling a loop — like an overturned bean. Then, she spits somewhere in the bird's direction, and plucks a green thread from her nettle gown. Her gnarly fingers roll and chafe the thread; and in her grasp, it grows longer, thicker, sprouting green barbs. Soon, she will be able to yield it like a whip: to sling it over one of Okomir's feet and reel him in. Tie him down. Possibly sink those barbs under his feathers, rupturing his flesh. Lumi wheezes in anguish, nearly vomiting water by now. Her sila has crushed her entirely, it seems. But she still staggers forward, knees bent at odd angles, soles scraping against the floor. Bazhena, back on the table, looks up from soothing her father, and nearly tosses herself to the floor. "I've got you, I've got you!" she cries, inserting her small round shoulder right under Lumi's dangling, listless arm before she collapses. "You... With all due respect to your... swamp grandmother duties..." she tells Baba Yaga, frowning, "You are not being fair to us. We were quite literally just talking about the poisoned water! In the vodniks' river, and in that place where... $Name found it..." She glances around. "Wherever $PronounNom $PronounVerbPresent..." While you are frantically figuring out whether or not you should step out into the open, the hag laughs. A bitter, howling laugh that makes the chandeliers on the ceiling rattle. "That's just two places! Two places! You know nothing, little... dragon slayer!" For some reason, that title sounds like a derisive taunt. And Bazhena winces, accordingly. "You and your friends need a new lesson, then!" [[Next->Butter Churner]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The hag snaps her fingers again. Your vision blurs into bright, smeared stripes. The stripes do break back down into shapes and colors in a few moments: but you realize that you have been somehow transported into Baba Yaga's butter churner. Stuffed in there like... like butter, you suppose, side by side with Lumi, Bazhena... And Okomir, whose bird eyes have turned glassy with confusion, and whose wings have been crammed tightly against his body. "Hey!" Vassa calls out, back in the feast chamber. "If this lesson is over, how about you turn everyone back?" "No," Baba Yaga snaps. "The spell is cast. None of them will move again until the water is cleansed." "Oh for crying out — " Vassa protests... But her voice is silenced, and her face blocked out, by another rumble, and another flash. Next thing you know, the butter churner is rushing through the sky, higher than even Ditte's carpet traveled. Lumi purses her lips into a line as deep and narrow as a crack in ice. Her fists clench, pulsating with sila, and the cloud of snowflakes whirls around her, restoring her strength. "You must set us down," she demands, her voice monotonous yet loud. "No," Baba Yaga says again. She has been using her staff to propel the butter churner through the air — rowing with it as if it were an oar, and her odd vessel were sailing over water. But she does raise it momentarily to bonk Lumi over the head. "Not until you get where I need you to be. And don't even try to tamper with the butter churner! Unless you want to sploosh against the ground and go back to being snow!" You eye Lumi, who has stiffened but otherwise appears unhurt by the bonk. Is she... Is she really made of literal snow? Or is that the hag's way of insulting her? In the meanwhile, the butter churner keeps flying. The palace roofs float somewhere far below, falling into nothing. The city is whisked away as well. You are soaring above the fields now: they look like splashes of silver in the night, and the rivers that cut across them look like bands of black silk, embroidered with glittering gemstones. "Wow... This thing is really fast..." Okomir mutters. "Maybe I should get one of those... Spare myself the wing strain..." "It's one of a kind, birdie," Baba Yaga cuts him off. "Stop chattering; how did your mother raise you?" Like Lumi, Okomir grows stiff, hugging himself with his wings. But Baba Yaga is not finished. "You'd better take a good, long look down. All of you. What do you see?" [[Next->Flying Over Swamp]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You honestly did not know what you expected. Being flayed alive by a raging hag, probably. But the burst of agony never comes. Baba Yaga's sila simmers down, and she regards you from head to toe. Her tiny black pupils dig into your face like bloodsucking mites. "Well, Princess' messenger! Aren't you a brave, persistent little (if:$Race is "Human")[child](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[kitten ](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[puppy ](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[calf ](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[fawn ](if:$BeastSpecies is "rodent")[mousey ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[critter](if:$Race is "Dryad")[sapling]!" she jeers. "And what is it you learned about the poison?" You squish your face in confusion. "What... You learned too, I guess? There are at least two places where is has seeped into the water: the vodniks' river and..." The hag laughs. A bitter, howling laugh that makes the chandeliers on the ceiling rattle. "Two places! Two places! You know nothing, (if:$Race is "Human")[child](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[kitten ](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[puppy ](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[calf ](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[fawn ](if:$BeastSpecies is "rodent")[mousey ](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[critter](if:$Race is "Dryad")[sapling]! You and your little friends need a new lesson, then!" [[Next->Butter Churner]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Still a bit uneasy after the mention of his mother, Okomir slowly rolls his head to one shoulder, looking. You and the others mirror the motion. The butter churner begins to slow down. A long, long way below, you see an enormous marshland. Spreading as far as eye can see. Puddles of water glisten in the night. Like countless, freshly minted lunkas, scattered amid fuzzy low banks. As the butter churner begins a slow, smooth descend, you take a better look at the lush willow trees that rise from the grassland, here and there. Their slender branches lean down and soak up the water: long ropes of silver melting into black silk. Some of the willows are taller than any tree you have ever seen (even in the Great Birch Grove). The butter churner still has quite a way to go before it skims the water surface, or even brushes over the tips of grass; and yet it is already parting the rustling curtains of willow leaves as it glides on and on. Whenever that happens, it's like you are showered in streaming silver. Nothing but streaming silver, all around. The leaves nearly smother you; at one point, despite the gravity of being abducted by a hag and having their friends and loved ones turn to stone, Okomir and Bazhena snicker at the look on Lumi's face. Expressionless; cast in ice; and yet with a couple of willow leaves stuck under her nose, like a comical moustache. Whenever you glance up or down amid these willow showers, trying to make out either the roots or the canopy, you see nothing but a soft haze. Cushions upon cushions of it. Radiant with the glow of the moons. The deer (four-legged forest deer; not Beastfolk) that stride past the willows are just as colossal in size. No, you wouldn't even say they stride: they float, like majestic ships, slender legs lost in the mist. Their antler are easily the size of trees themselves. And if you were jump out of the butter churner and land on the back of any such deer, it would be like becoming stranded in the middle of a rolling meadow of brown grass. When the butter churner finally dips down, maneuvering between the deer's ankles, you also spot clusters of mushrooms towering over the still dark waters. They are as tall as an average human, at the very least; and underneath their frilly caps, round windows have been carved out, winking with welcoming lights. And everywhere — between the mushrooms, and among the willow branches, and over the tree—sized crowns of the giant deer — there are fireflies. Countless hovering flakes of crisp green and pure gold, flashing into being and then going dark again, and flashing, and going dark. As if singing a song in silent voices, to an unwritten melody: measuring the rhythm in flickers of light. [[Next->Left in Swamp]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Whoah..." Bazhena breathes, leaning over the edge of the butter churner, her braids trailing in the breeze. "This place is so beautiful..." "Was beautiful, little dragon slayer," Baba Yaga barks. And then slaps Bazhena's hand away when she reaches to trail her fingers through the water (the butter churner has descended enough for that, by now). "This is not the real thing. Just memories I pulled from what water still survives. Water can hold memories, don't you know; and with enough sila, you can reel them in. Like fish." "What do you mean, what water still survives?" Okomir squawks anxiously, eyes round and beak wide—open. "I told you to look, didn't I?" Baba Yaga moves the palm of her free hand in front of her, palm facing down, as though wiping something off. And with each such motion, more and more of the enchanted swamp peels away. Stripped bare of the glowing memories, the swamp gurgles and bubbles and seethes. The substance sloshing among the islets of grass is still black — but is not water. And the grass itself has either wilted, turning brittle and bone-white, or crumbled off to dust completely. And that dust, in turn, has solidified into a solid plaque. Not soil, not rock, not... anything. Just entirely white patches, completely devoid of life. This is the swamp's landscape now: dense black streams and barren white banks. The regal willows, almost to the very last one, have been reduced to dry pale trunks with naked branches. And past those willows, back arching, ribs stabbing the ground like cracked sabers, lies the skeleton of a giant deer. The butter churner lands, hitting the white ground with a soft bump. "Now it's time for your lesson." With that, Baba Yaga shoves the four of you out of her butter churner... And vanishes. [[Next->Ch 7]]

CHAPTER 7. RUIN AND ROT {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} It has been many long weeks since Simeon, the wizard from the little village by the stream, tore his daughter out of the rusalka's clutches. Many long weeks. The man that answers Simeon's name now, and looks out of Simeon's eyes — more bruised, more scorched by sleeplessness, than ever before — might as well be a different person. Gone is the gentle, endearingly awkward miracle worker that healed broken bones and revived failing crops and helped deliver babies. Gone is the kind neighbor that laughed softly in his little corner at village gatherings, and humored the children that pestered him with questions about his sila. Gone, first and foremost, is his long salt-and-pepper hair. He has shorn it down, leaving nothing but bristles clinging close to his skull — and the skull is, in fact, what mostly remains of his features. He kept forgetting to eat on... Yes, he has forgotten the number of days when that happened too. His cheekbones and the edges of his eye sockets rise, blade-sharp, through his skin; the only part of his face that has not sunk through is his nose, seemingly longer and sharper than before. Most of him — his life force, his sleep, and his hair, too; for hair is one of the most potent components of spellcasting — was consumed during the endless stifling days, and nightmarish nights, and feverish hours in between. When he was trying, and failing, and failing, and failing yet again, to find a way to help his daughter. That bruise the rusalka gave her — a dark, greenish circle over her ankle, which father and daughter paid heed at first — grew in size rapidly. Crawling up her leg. Seeping through her stomach and blossoming, like heavy, dark growths on a venomous vine, all over the branches of her ribs. Climbing higher and higher every time Simeon asked his daughter to "roll up your shirt, sweetie, I want to see how well you are feeling! I am sure my potion worked this time!". In a more and more crackling, more and more fake cheery voice that fooled neither him nor Mila. By now, the bruise covers most of Mila's body. There is not an inch of her skin that is not green and yellow and black; blotchy and swollen; sore to the touch... And throbbing with a steady, unrelenting fever. This dark heat has poured into Mila's bones and sinews like molten lead, making them too heavy to move. And even if she does try to awkwardly shift an arm or a leg, her tightly boiled skin splits at the joints. The lesions that gnaw through her knees and elbows only ever heal halfway. No matter how much sila Simeon pours into them, losing his sight and his breath in the clutches of a dense, teary fog. They bleed thick and dark, instantly changing the color of any bandages that Simeon wraps Mila in, with quaking, pale, twig-thin fingers. And sometimes, little patches of flesh fall off at the corners of the lesions. Dead flesh. There is nothing Mila can do in this state except lay very, very still, eyes darting left and right under her bruised eyelids while she drifts into uneasy sleep. And there is nothing that Simeon can do is watch over her, and cast the same useless, pointless spells to ease her suffering. Because he has done everything else. [[Next->Ch 7 P2]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} He went through every ritual, every application of sila known to him. He emptied his cupboards and jars of rare herbs and mushrooms and even ground Alfr crystal dust. He wove intricate, lace-like patterns of light over Mila's body till his fingertips bled with the overflow of sila. And finally, when none of that helped, he gathered his books — his precious collection, carefully assembled over the years — and dumped them into a single heap at the feet of the trader he knew in the nearby town. A rotund human with a curling moustache and a brush-like sideburns. A purveyor of rare antiques. "Savva," Simeon told him breathlessly, sinking to his knees beside the book pile. "Here's everything I own. My entire collection. I want to trade it in exchange for the rarest, most obscure book you have on healing sila. Mine is... Not enough." Nothing about him is enough, it turned out. Savva, after running about all flabbergasted and worried, and trying to stuff vatrushka after vatrushka into the half-starved Simeon's mouth, eventually did give away that obscure book. At first glance, it is quite an unremarkable little tome... It was an unremarkable little tome, because Simeon tossed it off a cliff, into the toothy maw of a precipice, when it proved as useless as everything else he has gotten his hands on. Because they are his hands — the most useless, cursed hands in existence. The book was chunky, bound into dark leather, and had a half—legible design etched into its cover. The shallow grooves, with the last specks of long-gone gilding, traced the outlines of several triangular mountain tops, and wavy lines running down from their peaks. The book was called Springs Eternal. Volume Six. Out of thirty-something. There is a magical mountain with a mystical spring in almost every Kingdom; each with its own enchanted properties, apparently. And Savva's book, written in a painfully roundabout, archaic language, talked about the one in Rodina. A font of two streams, flowing in perfect parallel like two halves of the same river. Balanced to the last drop. Before they mix and merge in the bottomless basin of a giant lake, from where all the rivers of Rodina are supposed to be born. One stream is... was... babbling and glittering. Colored a rich, translucent blue, with little orbs of white and turquoise light floating in it; washing against a lush green bank amid clouds of purple, golden, scarlet blossoms. The other is black and viscous and unnaturally still; and its bank is bare as bone, and blinding white. With no other colors to be seen. One stream is... was... meant to grant life. To heal. And the other, to grant death. Whatever the book meant by that (oh, now Simeon knows what the book meant by that). And it is to these two streams that Simeon has brought Mila. The book was a slog to decipher (or maybe Simeon's brain has begun to grow numb from lack of sleep); but at least it had a map. And a warning. Mother Earth made the magical mountains difficult, nigh impossible, to scale, lest the springs fall into the wrong hands. The sides of this mountain are smooth as glass; and where the glass crackles into various ledges and cliffs, the jagged edge is sharp as a butcher's blade. Thus, before Simeon set out from his village — leaving behind an empty house, with shelves gaping like dark pits, windows thrown wide, door wailing on its hinges in the wind — he visited the blacksmith. The very same blacksmith whom he had been helping when his wife died. The big, fuzzy she-bear has been feeling rather guilty about it — though she is not to blame. Only Simeon is to blame. And it had to be because of that guilt that she asked no questions, and charged no money, when Simeon requested some very... specific gear for his journey. A pair of boots — or sandals rather; like the ones worn by the people of Volcanica. Wrought from strips of iron, and with several rows of thick spikes for soles. Enough to gain traction on the glass slopes... Moons, the noise that they made. At least Mila was asleep most of the way: Simeon secured her on his back with blankets, and carried her up the mountain, scarcely stopping, scarcely resting. Just putting one iron-clad foot in front of the other. With that ceaseless noise. The screeching and scraping carved through Simeon's skull, just as the metal bands carved through his flesh. His right foot has been sliced up so badly that he might have a permanent limp now. Not that it matters. Not that anything matters. [[Next->Ch7 P3]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} It did not work. Just like everything else. Simeon gingerly lowered Mila into the clear blue half of the spring. Several times. Apologizing profusely whenever he pressed too hard at her bruises. He bathed her in the life-giving water. And had her drink it. And attempted to use it in a potion. And cast sila on it, coaxing the intertwining, ribbon-like jets upwards and twisting them into arcane symbols. Nothing. The water has yielded nothing. Has been reduced to nothing. The blue half is gone, save for a few shallow puddles. Barely enough to breathe life into a handful of tadpoles. And the black half has expanded, flooding over, filling the lake to the brim with its oily, reflectionless waves. The balance has been disrupted. Down below, in Rodina, the rivers are probably running black, with water replaced by poison. And Simeon was the one who caused this. He did try to make it right. He did race along the green bank, even as its blossoms wilted and melted to nothing, baring the bone—like ground. And he did release all of his sila, till he felt like his guts were turning inside out, to conjure some sort of dam. A ghostly barrier, rippling and oozing streaks of color as if it were made from soap. He intended for it to cut the stream in two again, to keep the black water from seeping in until it was time, until perfect balance was achieved... But his barrier never held up for more than a few seconds. The dead stream would just eat through it, silently, with neither a splash nor a sizzle. Again and again. And now it flows free, past Simeon, who is watching blankly with burning, bloodshot eyes, while his daughter lies in his embrace. As weak as ever. And as if that were not enough, there are... creatures coming to drink from the black stream. Unnatural. Undead. Simeon has seen a herd of skeletal horses, woven together by hovering grains of blood-red sand. Fresh out of the tall tales about the haunted dunes along the road from Rodina to Samarsarai. He has seen walking trees, with dead faces lodged in their bark, framed by thick clots of dried-up blood and viscera like gruesome portraits. He has seen ghosts, pulsing with unearthly golden light, passing through the glassy rock face like through a veil of smoke. He has seen waking horrors that his lore books have filed under "Rumor" or "Exaggeration" or "Legend"; creatures that were supposed to be extinct or dwindling in number, after the heroic efforts of warriors like the Princess' druzhina to lay them to rest. And yet they are all here — so many of them. All trudging, gliding, crawling and otherwise shambling towards the tainted stream. And leaning down to drink. [[Next->Ch7 P4]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} When the dark sludge laps against their bared gums or half-fused lips or fleshless, leering skeletal jaws, they... transform. Some grow in size; some gain an extra row of teeth. And some, like the horse carcasses, sprout sleek black spikes along their spines and tails. And they always, always tear away from the water with a new, twisted, aggressive expression on... whichever semblance of a face they have. And the hollow of their eyes fills with the same lightless tar as the banks of the dead stream. With no thought, no emotion, except hunger. Oddly enough, not all of them seem to drink willingly. Sometimes, a confused-looking skeleton shuffles in place on the bank, as if walking against a strong wind. But in the end, the wind always prevails. The creature always gives up: stops struggling, and takes the first draught, after which there is no turning away. No turning back. There is a very specific source to this compulsion: the sila that first beckons the undead to the stream, from far across the land if need be, and then pushes them to the dead water's edge. The ensnaring spell has been cast by a tall figure that appears sometimes on the glassy clifftop. This sorcerer is even more gaunt than Simeon. He lacks a nose, and his sallow skin bears morbid blotches, not unlike Mila's bruises. He is wrapped in a long, trailing inky cloak, which he clasps over his chest with a hand that is about one third flesh and two thirds bare bone, phalanges sticking out of dry, peeled—back skin like peas from their pod. And his tall, bulging forehead is clasped within a broad circlet of blackened silver, with a milky white gem. He glances down from his glass perch sometimes, grinning at Simeon with long, yellow teeth. "Look at all these beautiful beings accepting my invitation," he says, in a voice woven from hazy echoes. Like the voice of the rusalka. "They will be ferocious warriors soon — all thanks to you." He usually vanishes after that, in a whirl of smoke. And Simeon is left on the bank. To cradle his daughter. To watch the undead. To hate all this ruin and rot. And to hate himself, for the part he played in bringing it upon Rodina. Maybe even the whole world, if that sorcerer's appetites grow enough. [[Next->Ch 8]]

CHAPTER 8. A NIGHT IN THE SWAMP {(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Well now," Okomir flaps his wings: to stretch them out, after being packed into the butter churner. "This is quite a pickle. Not — not literally. I would never pickle anything in... there." He flashes a wary yellow eye at the black slush that wobbles in between the islets of bone-white. Lumi presses her hand against her forehead. Okomir squeaks nervously, probably assuming that she is exasperated with his humor — but it turns out that she just wants to slide her fingers across her face, magical snowflakes raining down into the dark. "I think we have seen enough," she says, straightening up. "If the hag wanted to teach us a lesson, the lesson has been learned. This water blight is worse than we thought. We must return to the palace and regroup. Send the druzhina out to find more places like this; ask Nour how we can stop the poison from spreading." "I don't know..." Okomir makes a few circles over Lumi's head, scanning the shadowed banks. "Remember Vassa said we had to look for the source, right? What if this swamp is the source? What if our lesson is... to find clues right here? That deer skeleton looks especially promising." "Even if we do find clues, what then?" Lumi objects. Well, as much as she can object, with her face and voice frozen again. "The Princess got turned to stone; Svetloyar is probably falling apart in panic. The longer we spend solving the hag's riddles, the worse the situation is going to get. We know the full scope of the danger; that ought to be enough." "Um..." Bazhena tucks her hair behind her ears and presses her palms together under her chin, bracing herself to speak. "This is probably silly, but Lady... but Lumi did say is was one of you now, so..." "No, no, go ahead!" Okomir whirls through the air and hangs upside down in front of Bazhena, lifting his feathery ear flaps to show that she has his full attention. "I am rather concerned about that mushroom settlement we saw from above. What happened to its people? Did they escape? Or did they end up like..." She gulps. "Like my mother, or worse, that giant deer?" "That's a good point," Lumi intones, her voice lifeless. "I really mean it; I approve. I just do not want to deal with another emotion right now." "She starts thawing whenever she feels anything," Okomir comments helpfully. "Approval included." "I... I noticed." Bazhena arches her eyebrows and hesitantly pats Lumi's icy hand. "If I may ask, is that a curse, or..." "No, I was born this way. Do you require backstory commentary?" "Y-yes? If that is no trouble?" [[Next->Lumi Backstory]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Very well. I will be brief. My parent is a Dayen wizard of considerable power. They always wanted a family, but had no desire for romance, not like I..." She stiffens and forcefully, almost aggressively, slaps a renewed wave of sila onto herself, subduing any emotions that might have cracked through. "They tried adopting a child, but the other Dayen would not let them. Their floating wizard tower was found a hazard. So in the end, they took matters in their own hands. And made me and my brother Pilvi in their magical laboratory. Pilvi was made from clouds, and I from snow. That's why I have no wings. They kept either turning out to thick and clumsy, or falling off..." "Like adding wings to a snowman!" Okomir cuts in again. Lumi nods. "...So my parent did without." "Does that... trouble you?" Bazhena asks, resting her hand on her chest in sympathy. "Not really. I have ice sila to lift myself up. My nature does come with some difficulties, but..." Lumi purses her lips. "I think that is sufficient backstory. Now we must decide where we should go; we cannot spend all night standing and talking." Her gray eyes snap to you. "$Name. The hag kidnapped (if:$Race is "Dryad")[("Tree-napped?" Okomir suggests)](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[("...Cat-napped?" Okomir suggests)](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[("...Deer-napped?" Okomir suggests)](if:$BeastSpecies is "ursine")[("...Bear-napped?" Okomir suggests)] you as well. You should get a say in what we do next. What do you think?" The question comes unexpectedly. You hold the pause for a few moments, letting the thought sink in: you, a modest messenger, just got your opinion asked by monster—slaying warriors from the royal palace. Asked, and apparently listened to. Time to give your answer. [[Investigate the deer skeleton->Skeleton Route]] [[Look for survivors in the mushroom village->Mushroom Route]] [[Try to find a way out of the swamp->Exit Route]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "I think that skeleton is really worth looking at," you say, and Okomir responds with more somersaults in the air and a squawk of delight. "Let me lead the way! I will watch out for any nasty puddles from up high!" With that, he zooms ahead — and off you set. The druzhina warriors and the lost messenger. Charting your path through a dying swamp. Just as the bone-like banks are devoid of color, the air that hangs over the swamp, dark and hazy and stagnant, is devoid of sound. Not a single peep from a frog, or a chirp from some nocturnal bird, or even the faint hum of insect wings. Just the occasional slosh of heavy black fluid, as it slowly overtakes more and more of the islets. And your footsteps. Dry and echoing. As if the white slopes you are walking on were hollow underneath. Well, perhaps they are. Perhaps all that lies beneath the topmost soil: the rich, dark, life-giving earth; the flesh of the great Mother — has all wasted away. Sometimes you think you can hear something else, vague and indefinable, seeping into your ear like swamp water. You whip your head around, heart clenching, mouth dry... But it turns out that it is just the branch of a dead willow, breaking off and falling into the tar, which gobbles it up without a trace. Okomir is very diligent about his self-appointed guide duties. Now and again, it is his warning "Squawk!" that keeps Bazhena, or Lumi, or yourself, from mis-stepping and winding up waist-deep in the mass of life-draining tar. But after a while of flying in silence, he turns back and calls... To you, of all people. "Hey $Name! Walk with me? I wanted to tell you something." An odd jolt shoots through you. You cannot quite tell if you are anxious — after all, there are few things more worrying than an iteration of "We need to talk" — or pleased by Okomir's attention. You pick up pace until you walk, and Okomir flies in parallel. The giant bird glides so close that the tips of his wing feathers almost tickle your face. His yellow eyes study your expression — carefully, unobtrusively, never locking in with yours directly. "You... You are nervous, aren't you? Please don't be nervous! Hold on, let me go back to human form! Reassure you with my cuddly presence!" You suddenly feel yourself smiling. The bird hits his chest against the solid white ground, and stands beside you as a human. Broad-shouldered and freckled and, indeed, rather cuddly. [[Next->Talk with Okomir]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "I've seen first-hand what this cursed water can do," you say with a shudder. "I wouldn't want that to happen in the mushroom village. Let's head there!" Bazhena looks up to you in gratitude, eyes dark and sweet as raw honey. "I memorized where the village was. I can lead the way. And maybe..." She removes her gauntlets (which Okomir helpfully takes from her), shuts her eyes, and pinches the fingers on both hands together. "Maybe I can do that Alfr thing my mother did... does. Does. This will help us find our way in the dark. I just need... To focus. It doesn't come as naturally to me as to a full Alfr. Sorry in advance." "I am a Dayen that cannot fly," Lumi cuts in. "Do not apologize." Bazhena smiles, and then inhales, her dense eyelashes fluttering over her round cheeks. For a moment or two, nothing happens — but just as you open your mouth to voice your confusion, the skin on her bared forearms ripples. Like pools of silver where someone tossed a little pebble. When the ripples smooth over, they give way to swirls of condensed, saturates blue. Like tattoos, except glowing. They give off just enough light to snatch a narrow thread of a path out of the night's clutches. Bazhena opens her eyes, gasping — and off you set. The druzhina warriors and the lost messenger. Charting your path through a dying swamp. After walking for a while ahead of you, Okomir, and Lumi, Bazhena looks over her shoulder. At you. Her face is now covered in glowing markings as well, and her eyebrows are raised uncertainly. "Umm $Name? Could you come here for a bit? I wanted to talk to you." An odd jolt shoots through you. You cannot quite tell if you are anxious — after all, there are few things more worrying than an iteration of "We need to talk" — or pleased by Bazhena's attention. You pick up pace until you are by Bazhena's side, all your being a silent question mark. She notices the worry in your eyes, and waves it away. This little gesture, together with the deep warmth in her brown eyes, and the soft glow that emanates from her small, round self, is enough to put you at ease. She really is quite pretty. "No, no, please don't be so nervous!" she tells you. "Moons know I am nervous myself... I just wanted to ask you: are you feeling all right? After all that has happened? All you wanted was to warn the Princess, and now... Well." [["I miss my home"->Miss Home Bazhena]] [["Are you joking? I am having an adventure!"->Adventure Bazhena]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "You know what," you announce at length, looking your companions over. "I think I have seen enough here. I don't need to wander deep into the swamp to figure out that... things are bad. Really bad." You pause, pressing your hands into your stomach as if that could rid of you of the sickly, gnawing pain deep inside. Please let the people back at the palace be all right. Please let your family be all right. "Let's get out of here." Lumi gives you a swift, businesslike nod. "Let's indeed. I think I know the way. Follow me. And do not be afraid." You wonder why she'd say that — a question that is answered before you even begin to put it into words. Lumi stands on the bleached, hardened swamp bank, facing roughly in the direction where the hag's butter churner came from. With her soles planted flat and firm into the barren whiteness, she stretches one arm forward, parallel to the ground, and then bends her elbow in a choppy, cutting motion, and clenches her fist. At her command, a chunk of glittering crystalline substance — like snow, pressed into a brick — appears out of thin air. Then another, on top of it. And another. And another. The bricks add up, and slide, and stick together, with trails of dark-blue, smoky sila holding them in place like mortar. Inch by inch, they form the arch of a bridge, high above the swamp's slurping tar. "There," Lumi comments, using the first few tiers of snow bricks as a little ladder to step onto the bridge. All the while, she continues to cast, so that this suspended pathway extends endlessly under her feet. Ever upward and ever forward, into the night. "This way, we will be safe from the blight. Follow me." Bazhena tentatively climbs up the snow step after her, while Okomir prefers to fly above the bridge in bird form. You step onto the bridge as well. As they have been conjured from snow, not ice, the bricks under your feet are not slippery. Treading on them is like walking down a crunchy white path in between fluffy, pillowy hillocks on a crisp winter morning. The only thing that makes you a bit wary is that the bridge is fairly narrow, just enough for maybe two people to walk abreast — and has no railing. But when Bazhena missteps and loses balance up in front, you see Lumi knead the air with the fingers of her free hand, condensing it into a net of shimmering frosty threads to pull her back. Lumi did tell you not to be afraid. If something happens, she will catch you. Or Okomir will: look how vigilantly he is watching over the bridge from up high. Either of them will. They ought to. You are not afraid of falling down, in there, into the darkness. Not at all. And so, off you set. The druzhina warriors and the lost messenger. Charting your path through a dying swamp, high above the waves of poison. [[Next->Swamp Description]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} While he does have silver greaves and gauntlets, similar in design to those Lumi and Bazhena are wearing, Okomir's ceremonial armor is missing a chest piece. Maybe none could fit his vast, pillowy form; maybe it's easier for him to transform into a bird and back this way; or maybe he just dislikes the rub of armor, or clothing, against his upper body. Whatever the reason, without armor in the way, you can truly appreciate how soft he looks, with muscles underneath. How strong and protective he is. "I just wanted to apologize," he tells you sincerely, running his fingers through his feather-like hair. "You... You were just passing by, weren't you? And now you are stuck here with us. Like... Like a chicken going from the coop to the soup. And what a nasty, inky soup it is!" [["Yes, I do miss my home..."->Miss Home Okomir]] [["Are you joking? I am having an adventure!"->Adventure Okomir]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Yes, I do miss my home," you admit. "I thought I would be back by now, boasting to my family that I saw the Princess!" "...But you are not," Okomir sighs, his huge shoulders sagging. "I am sorry. I... I don't even know what it feels like, not really... I haven't thought of my home — my first home, before the druzhina — for so long." [[Next->Okomir Backstory]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Are you joking?" you exclaim, tossing up your arms. "I am having an adventure! This is the most excitement I have had in my whole life! Sure beats(if:$Race is "Human")[ doing farm chores](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[doing mill chores](if:$Race is "Dryad")[doing rounds along the same forest path] every day!" Okomir chuckles, his huge shoulders rising and then relaxing. "Well, that's one way of looking at it! You are in good company then! I haven't had an unexciting day since I left home!" [[Next->Okomir Backstory]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Your home in the Erzi kingdom?" you ask, interest piqued. "Oh no!" Okomir shakes his head with a small smile. "I don't even remember what it looks like! I mean, I know where it is — way up in the mountains, above the villages of the human highlanders... But whenever I try to picture it in my head, it's like someone sneaks up on me behind a corner and hits me with a dusty, heavy ole flour sack…! No, I grew up on the floating Isles. With the Dayen." A deep wince skews his genial expression. "My Dayen mother went through a lot of trouble for my sake. First finding me, then taking me in, then raising me. Especially since my best childhood friend was Lumi... The daughter of my mother's rival..." He shakes his head with a mirthless little laugh. "Mother always wanted to be a better wizard than them, so when they made Lumi and Pilvi, she tried to replicate the experiment... That did not work, so she had to find a foster child the old-fashioned way. And ended up with me. Not a particularly, uh, perfect specimen. I felt awful burdening her, so when I was old enough, I left to seek adventure among the humans down below." It is rather hard to imagine someone like Okomir being a burden. You open your mouth to say something to that effect, but are nearly pushed off-balance by the tide of sounds that suddenly rushes from the direction of the skeleton. And there certainly are... A lot of them. Resounding owl-like hoots, and the rattling and knocking of giant bones, and worst of all, the scraping of claws against something smooth and dry. The latter makes Okomir gag. Pushing down his sickness, he tugs at the back of your clothes to pull you further away from the edge of a tar puddle. After looking you over to make sure you won't lose your footing, he hurries to change back into a bird and shoot into the air, ears covered. Lumi and Bazhena catch up with you. The latter is winded and anxious; the former has coated her fists into diamond-hard orbs of ice sila, ready to fight. [[Next->Something in the Bones]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The sounds continue: a screeching cacophony, enough to make ear drums bleed. Yet the deer skeleton does not move. It looms above the slurping blackness, still and hazy-pale in the moonlight. Its spine curves like a bridge between two willows, and its broad, blade-edge ribs carve into the night dark. Then, suddenly, something dashes inside the deer's ribcage, leaping from one giant white blade to the other. The something is dark and smudged, like living, and very fast, tuft of smoke. Each time the smoke hits one of the ribs, the air ripples with an eruption of scratching and hammering. And sometimes, the little moving clot freezes in place, hooting and stomping. "There's something among the bones!" Bazhena cries. "Do you think we can coax it out? Maybe announce that we come in peace?" "Let me just fly in there and grab it," says Okomir, who must have read her lips, for his feathery ear flaps are still closed tightly. "Then we can ask questions about what's driving it so crazy. Maybe it also experienced the joys of being creature-napped and stuffed in a butter churner." "Or we could just attack," Lumi notes curtly. "I highly doubt it's friendly." As before, they turn their eyes to you. Expecting you to join one of them. [[Join Bazhena in appealing to the creature->Appeal to Creature]] [[Join Okomir in catching the creature->Catch Creature]] [[Join Lumi in attacking the creature->Attack Creature]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You give Bazhena a silent nod. She runs her fingers along her braids, smoothing down some stray fuzz, and steps forward. With you by her side. You are almost inside the skeleton now.(if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[ Not the most pleasant thought, considering that in life, this being almost used to be kin to you.] Its antlered skull wobbles over you on a creaking neck. Big enough to cover you both, should it fall. "Hello!" Bazhena calls into the rattling dark. "We mean you no harm!" "Hello!" you echo after her. "What are you? Why are you making so much noise?" The hammering quietens down. After a couple of moments of silence, you hear a long, spitting, livid hiss. And a voice. Croaky, and like Lumi said, very much not friendly. "Scary noises go psh, psh, chase strangers away! Go on! Be scared! Strangers not wanted!" "We understand how you feel!" Bazhena pleads, arms outstretched into the dark. "But we only wanted to examine this deer carcass to find clues about what happened in the swamp!" "Swamp dead, is what happened!" the voice spits, while the fuzzy, smoky something climbs nimbly up the deer's ribs to its spine and perches on it, like a Wa'Atan monkey in the tree top. "Swamp dead! Home gone! Me stay here now! Strangers not wanted!" "Do you know how — " Bazhena begins her next question, but never finishes. "Not wanted!" the creature bellows for one last time... And then pushes against the deer skull with all its might. A terrible dry crack whips at your ears. The skull plummets to the ground; and with it, the entire carcass comes crashing down. The creature yelps somewhere up above, realizing that it (metaphorically) has chopped down the very branch it was sitting on. But you care little for that: not when an oversized skull, with sharp prongs sticking out in all directions, is about to squash you and Bazhena into paste. And the other bones, each the size of a log, might just finish you off. With a split second to act, Bazhena gasps and bounces on you, knocking you out of harm's way. The skull rolls by, speeding up — with no grass or moss or soil to stop it — until it sinks into a tainted tar pit. The thundering hail of bones ceases as well, after a couple of moments. This leaves you in a rather... interesting pose. Pinned to the ground with Bazhena on top of you. [[This is awkward but enjoyable->Heart Moment Bazhena Skeleton]] [[Actually, this is just awkward->Awk Moment Bazhena Skeleton]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You nod to the giant bird, and step under the shaded arch of the skeleton's spine.(if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[ A chill runs through you, as it feels like you are disturbing the remains of your own dead kin. And the remains disturb you right back.] The bones rattle with renewed vigor. The carcass wobbles as the unseen creature shakes it, outraged by your intrusion. You worry that the deer's spine might cave in, and the skeleton might collapse, burying you underneath. Still, you do not turn back. You delve deeper and deeper, slowly creeping inside the skeletal deer. Meanwhile, Okomir flies overhead, scanning the gaps between the ribs with his yellow eyes and lunging down whenever he spots something. For your own part, there is little you can see in between the slanting rays of moonlight that slip into the gaps in the ribcage.(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ Just the pale outlines of the bones ahead.] But you still do your best: you grope and grasp ahead of you in the dark... Occasionally, your heart pushing into your mouth, you feel something bump into your legs. It skitters off each time, before you can as much as scrape against its coarse... coat? The hooting intensifies whenever that happens. And then, come... words? Hissing and jumbled and, like Lumi said, very much not friendly. "Away! Away! Not wanted here!" The voice is shrill enough to reach even Okomir's covered ears. The repeated "Not wanted! Not wanted!" gives Okomir pause. He perches on the deer's ribs, with his head cocked to the side so that his eyes are almost upside-down. "Sounds like we are making this critter anxious, huh... Maybe we shouldn't have tried to catch it..." "Me catch you!" the creature barks. "Me catch you, and toss you out! Away! Away! Not wanted!" You think you see a fuzzy silhouette leap up against the moon beam, aiming to grab at Okomir's bird feet from below. You lunge after it... Want to grab it, pin it down, keep it away from Okomir. But too late. The creature's tiny hands lock over Okomir's feet before he can as much as squawk. Then, the creature jumps downwards, pulling him with it, through the gap between the ribs. Okomir screeches and spreads his wings over the deer's ribcage, refusing to budge, like a feathery cork stuck fast in the neck of a bottle. But the creature keeps pulling... All you can think of doing, to get it to let go of Okomir, is to grab its tail — textured like harsh dry scales — and yank at it. As if you were a fancy noble, summoning a servant by pulling a bell rope.(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ And then you bite it for good measure.] The creature screeches and bounds off, kicking you in the chest as it propels somewhere into the dark. You stagger, with a muffled "Oof"... Which you cannot actually hear, as your little scuffle has unbalanced the skeleton, and a cascade of bones comes hammering down all around you. Deafened, disoriented, you crouch and wrap your arms over your head. A bird screeches — a sound you half-hear, half-imagine. Then something large and soft strikes the ground by your side and wraps its... his limbs around you, pushing you gently to curl up on the ground. After you blink off the confusion, you realize that Okomir has shielded you from harm. And now you are lying, in a ball of tangled limbs, surrounded by scattered bones that once made up the deer skeleton. [[This is awkward but enjoyable->Heart Moment Okomir Skeleton]] [[Actually, this is just awkward->Awk Moment Okomir Skeleton]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You meet Lumi's pale gaze and place your hand, in a very deliberate gesture, over the $Weapon that has miraculously survived the flight in the butter churner. She maintains an unperturbed, frozen countenance. You know now that approving of you too strongly will cause her to thaw. So instead, she put her thoughts in toneless, evenly spoken words. "I see you held on to your $Weapon. This is very good. Especially if you can run fast." "I... I don't follow?" you frown. "No," Lumi agrees, just as tonelessly. "Let me explain further. I cast sila from this end of the carcass," she nods swiftly at the gaping, cave-like opening in the front of the deer's ribcage, right underneath its skull. "And you run along the spine from the outside. When the creature, escaping my sila, emerges from the other end, underneath the tail..." Okomir snickers, but Lumi's blank stare(if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[ (and maybe the realization that you are a bit of a deer yourself, and mocking the deer remains is not the best idea)] quickly shuts him down. "You intercept it. And corner it with your $Weapon. This will make it easy to interrogate. Do you understand?" You nod. She nods back; and you both take your stances. Lumi under the skull, you a bit to the side. "Ready," she intones, raising her voice a little but not breaking out of the monotony. "Set. Go." [[Next->Attack Creature 2]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your pulse quickens, and a sweet warmth spreads its quivering butterfly wings in your chest and stomach. You take a long draught of air to recover your lost breath, and grin up at Bazhena's darkly flushed heart-shaped face. She bites her lower lip, allowing herself a moment longer with her hands touching yours and her braids tickling your face. Then, she pulls the both of you to your feet... Just in time, too: Okomir, a human again, has fished the noisy creature from under a pile of bones. [[Next->Creature Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You and Bazhena blurt of a mess of half-finished apologies and scramble to your feet, with not a moment to waste. And shortly after you do that, Okomir, a human again, emerges from under a pile of bones as well. Holding the noisy creature up by its hackles. [[Next->Creature Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} And what a curious creature it is. Its body, just as its long tail, are covered in flat, dry brown scales that look very much like those of a pine cone. In fact, the silhouette of its torso is very cone-like, with tiny hands and feet stuck in between the scales in front and at the bottom. Its head is like an overturned cone as well. Where it joins the creature's shoulders — two cones stacked on top one another — it casts a shadow. And deep in that shadow, two yellow-green, pupilless dots burn. Very angrily. "Away!" it spits, glaring at each of you in turn. "Away! Me die alone here! In peace! Quiet!" "Wait — " Okomir cries. "Did you come here to die?" Well. That certainly explains the creature's erratic behavior. It's been driven to desperation. "Nothing left but die," it grumbles. "Leaf hut gone; juicy bugs gone; even deer gone! Big, fat deer, used to hunt fleas on deer... Big, fat deer with big, fat fleas... Stuck in darkness, twitching, want free — but no!" It gestures with its little hands dramatically. "Darkness spread, eat deer, fleas and all! Eat swamp too!" "You poor thing," Bazhena whispers. Lumi, though, is more business-like. "Did you notice where the darkness came from? Or when?" "Spread from there," the creature points at the horizon. The dawn has crept in while you were wandering in the swamp, watering down the night gloom. Against the first tints of greenish yellow where the sun ought to rise, you make out the sharp triangle a mountain. It is quite a bit... smoother than the usual craggy peaks you have seen. Almost as if it were made from... Glass? And there are clouds swirling around its peak — darker and denser than the feathery stripes that trail across the sky. As odd and artificial as the mountain itself. "Instead of dying," Lumi continues bluntly, "Have you considered putting as much distance between you and the mountain as possible? This darkness has started seeping into other lands. But there still are places where you could be safe." The creature blinks. "Me... Go? Leave swamp? But... Born in swamp.... Grew in swamp... Thought... Die in swamp?" "You don't have to tie yourself down to a place just because you grew up there," Okomir points out; and Lumi nods. The creature twiddles its tiny fingers, considering. "But... Where go? Where safe?" You scratch your head. You might have an idea... [[Tell the creature to head to Svetloyar->Send Creature to City]] [[Tell the creature to head to your home->Send Creature Home]] [[Tell the creature it doesn't matter where it goes, so long as it leaves->Send Creature Wherever]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You allow yourself to nestle for a moment against Okomir's large warm chest. He does not seem to mind: in fact, he smiles, eyes bright as gold, and softly touches your (if:$Race is "Human")[$HairTexture hair](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[fur](if:$Race is "Dryad")[$DryadHead]. The touch does not linger, however. Discomforted by crowds, and loud noises, Okomir does not seem to like prolonging his embraces too much either. He shapes his lips into a smile again, and then sweeps you off the ground back to your feet. Just in time for Lumi to march up to the two of you, dragging along the creature: captured at last. [[Next->Creature Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You clear your throat, as much as you can in your squished-up pose. Okomir raises an eyebrow. "Oh! You want me to get off! Right away, $Name! Next time I'll try to save you more gracefully!" Spine cracking a little, he straightens up — and places you on your feet as well, with the ease of a child readjusting a toy that has toppled over. You look over the scattered bones — and soon spot Lumi. She is marching up to the two of you, dragging along the creature: captured at last. [[Next->Creature Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} And off you charge, clop-clop-clopping along the barren, bone-dry ground. It is quite a run from the deer's head to its tail, and you strain to the last to outrace the sila. Lumi has released it in a gust of frozen wind, which she keeps feeding, with her palms thrust forward and her soles planted on the ground... As firmly as she could do that, with no soil to sink her feet in; she keeps skidding from time to time and needs to readjust her stance like a beginner dancer. The wind is visible, tangible, woven from threads of glittering blue. It rushes deeper and deeper into the skeleton, filling the ribcage from within. You watch its stark azure glow take over the carcass out of the corner of your eye, and run faster, and faster, to always keep it a couple of inches behind you. The creature runs as well, spitting and hissing as the cold nips at its heels. You spot it now and again — still a smoky blur, nearly overtaken by the advancing wave of blue. You are approaching the deer's hind legs now. Soon, you will be able to swerve around and greet the escaping creature with open arms... And a $Weapon on the ready. But, as you prepare for that maneuver, you move too close to the skeleton — giving the creature a chance to suddenly stop running, toss itself against the ribs, and grab at your leg with tiny, but very clingy fingers. "You want hurt me?" a voice croaks, from the other side of the ribcage. "Me hurt you too!" You struggle to break free, but the creature will not let go, giggling wickedly to itself. All the while, the frost sila spreads on, spilling through the bones and touching the dead ground where you stand. You can feel the rime layer crackling. Building up. Threatening to overtake both the creature and yourself with its constricting numbness. A sharp cough rings out from the other end of the carcass. "$Name?" Lumi cries, emotional now. Worried. "$Name, are you all right? I will stop casting now!" With a deep, rumbling whoosh, the wave of frost sila withdraws from the skeleton. The air grows quite a bit warmer, in just a second or so. But this sharp shift seems to upheave something within the giant carcass: with a splitting crack, the rib arch collapses. Bits of the dead deer begin raining to the ground all around you, bouncing off with no grass or moss to cushion their fall. The creature lets you go, yelping. You dash off in chaotic zigzags, covering your head... Until you hit the icy chest of Lumi herself. She must have raced to check on you — and when you bump into her, she wraps her wiry, muscular arms around you and flings herself down, her whole body an icy shield for yours. [[This is awkward but enjoyable->Heart Moment Lumi Skeleton]] [[Actually, this is just awkward->Awk Moment Lumi Skeleton]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Lumi is still coughing a little bit, water rising in her throat. You stroke her forearm, as gently as you can, feeling concerned... And rather touched. She's shown, time and again, that she is ready to risk thawing when she feels protective of her friends. And the fact that you, a random messenger that stumbled into the Princess' palace, are also included... Well, that makes you thaw away as well. In a way. When she looks down, studying your flustered face, Lumi smiles through her coughing. And for a moment, her frosty pale eyes soften, sparks swirling in them like flakes of snow in the sunlight. It's a very fleeting moment, though. She has to get up, to harden her frozen shell with sila... She helps you stagger upright along the way, at least. The dust from the falling bones, in the meanwhile, has settled. Bazhena has found the unfriendly creature among the wreckage, and is now struggling to cradle it in her arms, while it twitches and scratches at her, grumbling. [[Next->Creature Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The pose you've landed in is not the most comfortable. And as soon as the rattling and hammering all around you dies down, you wriggle out of Lumi's icy arms. She stands up as well, silencing her cough with icy sila, as usual. You stand side by side in the center of a whole battlefield's worth of scattered bones. And across that battlefield, Bazhena trots up to you. She has found the unfriendly creature among the wreckage, and is now struggling to cradle it in her arms, while it twitches and scratches at her, grumbling. [[Next->Creature Explains]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "The place I come from is mostly untouched by the darkness," you muse slowly. "Or it was, before I left. At the very least, you could try asking for help from the (if:$Race is "Human")[people](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[humans and Beastfolk](if:$Race is "Dryad")[dryads] who live there. Tell them that $Name sent you... And that..." Your throat feels tight and scratchy for a moment. "That $PronounNom $PronounVerbPresent safe." [[Next->Monies for Creature]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "You should just get out of the swamp," you insist. "Walk on and on until the ground stops bring white. You'll figure out what to do from there." [[Next->Monies for Creature]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Good words, stranger," the creature croaks. You think that its tail even wags a little. "Me leave now. Stop dying!" "That's the spirit!" While cheering the creature on, you reach where you keep your emergency money. Perhaps you could share some with the creature, in case it wanders into a market or an inn. Beyond these wilds, you can hardly pay for room and board with hisses. (if:$GotReward is false)[All you can find is the return fare you saved up when you thought your trip to Svetloyar would be short. Now that you are stuck in this swamp, you are not sure if you will even need this; there are not exactly too many inns and carriages out here, are there? But then again, nothing is stopping Baba Yaga from flying in another time and dumping you in some unknown city. [[Give the creature your last money->Money for Creature]] [[Keep the money->No Money for Creature]]] (if:$GotReward is true)[You still have the (if:$Reward is "purse")[pouch of gold from the innkeeper](if:$Reward is "corals")[the servant girl's coral necklace]. There is more than enough here for the creature to order itself a platter of crunchiest, meatiest bugs, and a bubble bath for its pine cone scales. ...That is, if it even knows how to trade for things, and won't end up conned at the nearest road stop. [[Give the creature your reward->Reward for Creature]] [[Keep the reward->No Reward for Creature]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to true)"Here," you reach to the creature with a palm full of lunkas. "People trade them for food and shelter. You might want to take them." "And here is something from us as well," says Lumi, taking off her gauntlets. "They are made of silver. Very valuable in the world out there." Okomir and Bazhena follow suit. The creature sniffs at this treasure trove distrustfully, but eventually accepts, tucking the whole heap into its scales and bounding off somewhere into the swamp. "Not so much as a thank you," Lumi comments flatly. "I guess it didn't learn any politeness rules out here," Okomir says. "Lucky critter. Those things can be a brain-breaker." [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)All things considered, having money will probably do the creature more harm than good. It's best to hold on to it, for yourself. It seems that Lumi disagrees, however. She takes off her gauntlets and hands them to the creature. "No, these are not food," she says tonelessly as the creature tries to take a bite out of the silver. "You can trade them away if you need food, however." Bazhena and Okomir follow suit, and the creature ends up with a whole pile of silver, which it tucks away into its scales — and then gives all of you a final sniff and bounds off into the swamp. "It could have thanked us," Lumi comments flatly. "I guess it didn't learn any politeness rules out here," Okomir says. "Lucky critter. Those things can be a brain-breaker." [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)(set: $GotReward to false)"Here," you try to hand the creature the $Reward. (if:$Reward is "purse")[It sniffs at the coins, fingering them through the pouch. "What this? Sack of bugs?"] (if:$Reward is "corals")[It grabs the corals and shoves them into the shade that covers its face. As if trying to take a bite. "What this? Weird berries." ] "Oh no! (if:$Reward is "purse")[This is money](if:$Reward is "corals")[It's a necklace]. It's very valuable. You can trade it away if people ask you payment for food and shelter. Handy for a traveler." "And here is something from us as well," says Lumi, taking off her gauntlets. "They are made of silver. Also valuable." Okomir and Bazhena follow suit. The creature ponders over this treasure trove for a moment, grumbling something to itself. But eventually, it accepts, tucking the whole heap into its scales, and bounds off somewhere into the swamp. "Not so much as a thank you," Lumi comments flatly. "I guess it didn't learn any politeness rules out here," Okomir says. "Lucky critter. Those things can be a brain-breaker." [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)All things considered, possessing such treasures will probably do the creature more harm than good. It's best to hold on to your reward a little longer, for yourself. It seems that Lumi disagrees, however. She takes off her gauntlets and hands them to the creature. "No, these are not food," she says tonelessly as the creature tries to take a bite out of the silver. "You can trade them away if you need food, however." Bazhena and Okomir follow suit, and the creature ends up with a whole pile of silver, which it tucks away into its scales — and then gives all of you a final sniff and bounds off into the swamp. "It could have thanked us," Lumi comments flatly. "I guess it didn't learn any politeness rules out here," Okomir says. "Lucky critter. Those things can be a brain-breaker." [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Well, well," an already familiar voice comments, out of nowhere. "You've helped out here — but what will you do when this rot swallows all of Rodina? Will you keep fishing poor stupid sods, one by one? I've been doing that, and what did it get me? A dead leg and a dead swamp!" Oh joy. The hag has arrived again. [[Next->Ch 9]]

CHAPTER 9 is currently a work in progress. The hiatus been extended due to the author's various commitments such as day job, involvement in online community events, personal life, etc. Nonetheless, the outline for the future chapters is in place, and the future plot development is clearly decided. It just may take a while to actually... Get there. In the meanwhile, you can restart the story and try some other choices, or visit its blog and share your impressions at https://springs-eternal.tumblr.com/ Thank you for your patience! [[Back to Main Menu->Main Menu]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "I miss my home," you confess. "I..." Bazhena still has not taken her eyes off you, and something about her makes you feel like you could confide anything in her. "I left behind people, kin, that I worry about, and want to be safe," you blurt out. "Especially since we now know the... the actual scale of this blight! I... I do not want my (if:$Race is "Human")[farm](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[hometown](if:$Race is "Dryad")[Grove] to turn into something like..." You gesture wildly around you. "...Like this swamp!" "Oh $Name," Bazhena breathes out, stopping for a moment and giving you a hug. She is even softer than you imagined, looking at her, and smells faintly of lavender. "I understand," she draws away, heaving a shaky breath. "I do not want my mother to remain a stone statue either. I hope there is an easy answer to all of this... Something that will allow us to cleanse the water, and keep your home safe, and lift Yaga's curse. And I hope that I... will do enough to make it happen." [[Next->Bazhena Enough]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Are you joking?" you cry out, tossing up your arms. "I am having an adventure! This is the most excitement I have had in my whole life!" Bazhena frowns, just a tiny bit — but the expression looks so alien on her usually sweet, kind face that you realize that you must have been rather tone-deaf. Bazhena did have her mother turned to stone, after all. [[Try to explain what you meant->Explain Convo]] [[Wrap up the conversation->Wrap Up Convo]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Of course you will do enough!" You blink your wide-open eyes, puzzled by her insecurity — which cannot help but express out loud. "Didn't you slay a dragon?" Without warning, or any reason you can deduce, the warm light dies in Bazhena's gaze. "So everyone reminds me," she sighs. And says little else. You make a few attempts to trot beside her and make rather... obsequious small talk. But Bazhena turns you down gently. "I am not angry with you, $Name, I swear. I just need to think." So you leave her to it — not without wondering to herself why she is so sore about her dragon-slaying feat. Instead, you turn your attention to the swamp. ...Not that there is much to experience. Just as the bone-like banks are devoid of color, the air that hangs over the swamp, dark and hazy and stagnant beyond Bazhena's guiding blue aura, is devoid of sound. Not a single peep from a frog, or a chirp from some nocturnal bird, or even the faint hum of insect wings. Just the occasional slosh of heavy black fluid, as it slowly overtakes more and more of the islets. And your footsteps. Dry and echoing. As if the white slopes you are walking on were hollow underneath. Well, perhaps they are. Perhaps all that lies beneath the topmost soil: the rich, dark, life-giving earth; the flesh of the great Mother — has all wasted away. Sometimes you think you can hear something else, vague and indefinable, seeping into your ear like swamp water. You whip your head around, heart clenching, mouth dry... But it turns out that it's one of the giant mushrooms: rotten in the middle, it collapses under its own weight, sinking into a black pool with no trace. Not even a last dying breath of spores. You are on the village's outskirts now. Most of the houses are gone. Swallowed up. Reduced to wobbly, spongy ruins. And the inhabitants themselves — or at least, the handful that is left — have crowded into what must have once been the village square. [[Next->Mushroom Villagers]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "That is, uh..." You cough awkwardly, and the confused look in your face is enough to make Bazhena's expression soften a little again. "I am sorry about your mother! I have kin that may be endangered by this blight! What I mean is... Traveling here, to a mysterious swamp, walking side by side with druzhina warriors — it kind of takes your mind off such things, doesn't it?" Bazhena chuckles wistfully. "I suppose you are right. I will need to remind myself that this is an adventure. And what is the purpose of an adventure if not to save people? Your kin; my mother; everyone at the palace... Oh, I just hope I do enough to make that... actually happen." [[Next->Bazhena Enough]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Sorry, I... I said too much." "It's all right, $Name," Bazhena says sadly. "I... I am glad that you are so enthusiastic. I just wish I... I was doing enough to help my mother. And everyone." [[Next->Bazhena Enough]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} They look jumpy and sleep-deprived: you guess that their homes must have fallen apart just as they had gotten cozy for the night. Some are even trying to catch up on their stolen nap, on top of the pile of belongings they managed to salvage. The rest are shuffling about restlessly, with a lot of desperate hand-wringing. Their appearance matches their once-cozy mushroom homes. They have chunky, pear-shaped bodies in different shades of gray and cream, with an occasional splash of orange. Some have their faces framed by various frills: long and flat, or broad and curly. And each and every one of them wears a cap... Or perhaps these are simply natural parts of their heads. In Bazhena's light, you see that there are huge pancake caps and near little conical caps. Chalice-shaped caps, probably with a lot of dew gathered in them, and perfectly round orb caps. Yellow caps, scarlet caps, bright-blue caps, black-and-purple caps... And finally, the dome-shaped, velvety-brown cap, which crowns the head of a portly mushroom man that is leaning over one of the smaller tar puddles. Almost every other mushroom person in the square (those who are not asleep, that is) has their attention on him. "You know how your kin absorb and cleanse all the rot in the soil..." he hrmph's into his thick, ribbed moustache. "Maybe I could absorb this... goo, and then all this nonsense will be over and we will be back to business as usual." "That... does not sound like a good idea, Boris," says one of the mushroom people from the crowd, raising (either: "his", "her", "their") shoulders as if to hide underneath the (either: "tall", "broad", "floppy", "skewed", "bulbous"), (either: "luminous", "glossy", "dotted", "coarse", "lacy") (either: "red", "plum-colored", "white", "greenish", "pale-lemon") cap. "All of Boris' ideas are good! Always!" argues another mushroom person, with a stomp of (either: "his", "her", "their") (either: "tiny", "flat", "large", "pudgy") foot in a (either: "slate-gray", "black", "bright-green", "maroon", "dark-blue", "swirly pink") (either: "boot", "shoe", "slipper") (to match the cap color). "Let him absorb!" "Yes, let Boris absorb!" more voices chime in. Boris himself nods resolutely, and before any of you four newcomers can stop him, sinks his arms elbow-deep into the black mass. The agitated crowd falls silent. You feel your heart shrink into a tight little ball of ice; while Bazhena whispers "Oh no" by your side. This cannot end well. Nor does it. [[Next->Boris No]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The tainted black fluid soaks through the poor mushroom man's flesh like through a sponge. But instead of draining it of color and vitality, like you've seen it happen to other beings, it does something different. Probably because these mushroom folk are... built different. With a deep, warped, unpleasant sort of gargle, Boris transforms. His chubby mushroom body melts like a marshmallow in a hot drink. And in its place, sticky tar boils and gathers. Long, ribbon—like clots of it ooze from the tips of the new, vaguely Boris-shaped creature's fingers, elongating them to molten claws. And the same tar boils and frothes in the creature's mouth, too: it caves in to a gaping toothless pit, black strings quivering between the lips. The mushroom monster swells in size as well. To the chorus of shocked gasps from the crowd, it rises taller than some of the collapsed homes. Like a giant jet of tar, personified. Lumbering and vicious. "Uncle Boris?" whimpers one of the mushroom children, a (either: "puffy-cheeked", "stick-thin", "miniature") thing with a (either: "wavy-brimmed", "bucket-shaped", "vatrushka-like", "neat round") (either: "bronze", "lilac", "buttercup-colored", "silvery", "coral", "salad-green") cap. "Are you all right?" But the creature that was once Boris merely snarls, and slams its slimy limbs into the ground. Its claws scrape ferociously where the child stood. And if a terrified adult in a similar cap (a parent, or maybe an older sibling? who knows how the mushroom folk's families work) hadn't pulled (either: "him", "her", "them") back, the little one might have been reduced to spongy shreds. Shrieking, the mushroom people scatter, bumping into their own paraphernalia and trying to conceal themselves among the ruins of their homes. The... not—Boris staggers after them, toppling their hiding places over with a single sweep of gooey claws. "We must get these poor villagers to safety!" Bazhena narrows her eyes and sweeps her braids back decisively. "I... I will see to it!" Okomir's bird eyes, in turn, flash fiery-gold as he observes the tainted mushroom monster. "If this thing came from the blighted water, maybe we should chase it there!" he cries, soaring over the ravaged village on his bird form's wings. Bazhena looks up at him, frowning. He cocks his head. "Are you disapproving? This... This is a look of disapproval, isn't it?" "I just — " Bazhena's breath catches, and she has to spread her feet to keep balance after yet another earthquake strike by the mushroom monster. "What if that... Boris is still in there! We'll be killing him!" "Something tells me he is already dead!" Okomir responds, circling over the creature's head. "All we can do is put him to rest!" Bazhena is not entirely convinced, it seems, but there is no time to keep arguing. The creature is still raging, with no intention to stop. "I will cover you," Lumi says to both her companions, her blue sila springing alive in the clasp of her fists. Everyone has a role to play in the unfolding chaos. You just need to choose yours. [[Help Bazhena->Save Villagers]] [[Help Okomir->Lure Mushroom]] [[Help Lumi->Protect from Mushroom]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You decide to start rounding up the panicking villagers by Bazhena's side. Seeing you turn to her, she beams in gratitude. "That place looks secure," she points at a little... cave, of sorts, formed on the outskirts of the village by several dead willow trunks that have piled up on top of one another. Like the ground, the trunks seem to have hardened to the texture of gnawed white bone, and should withstand the assault of the gooey creature. At least for a little while. You nod in understanding, and the two of you step into the fray. Again and again, the mushroom monster lunges at the villagers that dart from under its oozing feet. Again and again, it overturns the last scant remnants of the ruined buildings, exposing the tiny, frightened mushroom folk that were cowering underneath, quivering from cap to toe. Again and again, it attempts to smash, to grab, to tear and consume. But before it can reach its prey, either you or Bazhena call out to the villagers. "Over here!" Bazhena cries, straining to make her Alfr markings glow even brighter. "Follow my light!" "Over here!" you join in, snatching the villagers' from under the dripping claws. "Go where the blue light is! Take shelter in the dead trees!" And the villagers follow. With some nudging and hand-grabbing (and even shaking, in the case of those who managed to still stay asleep in the middle of all this, and wake up to see a rampaging evil mushroom looming over their heads). But they follow. Eventually, all of them pack inside the log cave, hugging each other around the shoulders and covering the mouths of their young — lest the monster hear them sniffle. Bazhena stands guard in front of the cave's mouth — and extinguishes her light to draw less attention. You stand beside her, clutching your trusty $Weapon with one hand... While the other, Bazhena suddenly takes into hers. [[Next->Bazhena Takes Your Hand]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "All right then!" you declare, turning to Okomir. "Let's chase off this mushroom monster!" "Mushster!" Okomir offers, with an enthusiastic somersault on his bird wings. And off you set. Okomir pesters the... mushster from up above, much like he pestered Baba Yaga when he stole her staff. He flaps his wings in front of the creature's face; and snaps his claws and beak loudly with a silent, mischievous challenge in his glinting eyes; and ducks gracefully under the churning, massive arms when the mushster aims its slimy claws at his tail feathers. For your own part, you help out from the ground, teasing the creature to distract it from the villagers entirely, and lead it off on a chase after you and the cheeky bird. There is no denying that your heart jitters a little when you take in the mushster's sheer size. But you try very hard not to think about how its one disgusting wet sole, trailing with gooey footprints, is big enough to flatten your whole body into the ground. You just focus on waving your arms like you were holding a battle banner. (if:$Race is "Human")[And bellowing at the top of your lungs.](if:$Race is "Dryad")[And rustling your $DryadHead with such ferocity that one might think you were caught in a hailstorm.](if:$BeastSpecies is "feline")[And hissing, claws out and fangs bared.](if:$BeastSpecies is "canine")[And snarling aggressively.](if:$BeastSpecies is "bovine")[And even aiming to headbutt the mass of black slime with your horns (though getting any of that smile on your body would be a terrible idea).](if:$BeastSpecies is "cervine")[And even aiming to headbutt the mass of black slime with your santler (though getting any of that smile on your body would be a terrible idea).] Enraged by your pestering, the mushster moos something incoherent, and turns its dripping back on the village. Finally, you can lead it away. Far past the outskirts. Towards a larger tainted tar pit. Just the right size to swallow it whole. "Yes, yes!" Okomir eggs it on. "Here mushster, mushster, mushster! Almost got you!" He flies, and you trot, almost to the very edge of the tar pit. Now all you have to do is wait until the mushster lumbers right behind you, and dodge out of the way. You do just that the moment it catches up. But Okomir... "Dammit! Ughh! Nonono, gross! Gross!" Okomir is not fast enough. [[Next->Gross Slime]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Bazhena focuses on leading the villagers away from the mushroom wreckage in neat, organized little groups; and Okomir starts flying in swift, nearly playful circles, leading the mushroom monster off. Lumi's job, in turn, is to protect them. To make sure that no-one comes to harm. You decide to join her, asking permission with a quick, silent glance. She grants it, just as silently, and races off to do her part, undercut flying. You try your best to keep up, your heart rattling against your ribs. Whenever one of the creature's threshing fists comes too close to ramming into Bazhena, or Okomir, or a mushroom person, either of you has to act. Sometimes, Lumi encases the slimy claws into a block of ice. Or condenses the air in her cupped palms into curved shards of ice, which the flings at the monster like boomerangs. Or reshapes her sila into a glittering blue and white blade, as broad as she is tall, and jagged along the edge — perfect for carving a broad gash in the monster's squelching flesh. And sometimes, you (if:$Weapon is "bow")[shoot an arrow deep into the slurping dark.](if:$Weapon is "sword")[skid across the white ground and try to whack at the monster's shins with your sword.](if:$Weapon is "stick")[hit the bone-like ground with your stick: you worry that if you touch the beast directly, the wood will corrode like Ditte's diving suit(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ and the pole your grandfather used], but you can try creating a little rumble to disorient the creature and prevent an attack.] The marks you and Lumi leave never last. The ice melts, and the black tar fills up the monster's wounds, smoothing them over. But you meet your ultimate goal: the villagers have been safely evacuated, following the glow of Bazhena's markings like a guiding beacon; and Okomir has succeeded in luring the mushroom monster right to the very edge of a larger tainted tar pit. Just the right size to swallow it whole. You can relax now. Slow down. Stop being so acutely focused on your surroundings. Although... No, that last part was a bad idea. [[Next->Player Stumbles]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} A sudden, emotional gesture, brought on either by her appreciation of your help — or by the desire to smooth things over after your previous conversation. Or a bit of both. Her gauntlets have been lost somewhere in the chaos, and she does not seem particularly concerned about their fate. Her skin is bare, touching (if:$Race is "Human")[yours](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[your fur](if:$Race is "Dryad")[your bark]. Close and trusting. Intimate, even. [[You rather enjoy it->Heart Moment Bazhena Village]] [[You find it awkward, more than anything->Awk Moment Bazhena Village]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You savor the warmth of her touch, and squeeze her fingers a little bit. Your blood quickens, with a sweet tingle, and you prolong the sensation as much as you can. Up to the point when Okomir and Lumi — one in screeching, lightning-fast bird form, the other armed with conjured spikes of ice — follow through with their plan and chase the monster away from the village. Right into a larger tainted tar pit. Just the right size to swallow it whole. [[Next->End of Boris]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You give Bazhena a polite little smile and, after holding it there for a moment or two, let your hand slip out of her grasp. With a bit of friendly distance between the two of you, you watch Okomir and Lumi — one in screeching, lightning—fast bird form, the other armed with conjured spikes of ice — follow through with their plan and chase the monster away from the village. Right into a larger tainted tar pit. Just the right size to swallow it whole. [[Next->End of Boris]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Finally, the deed is done. The lumbering creature sways on the tar pit's edge, and topples down, into the embrace of sloshing poison. Despite its towering size, it makes no splash — scarcely a ripple, even — when it hits the tainted water. Instead, it dissolves, stretching into an oily black film. The film bubbles along the edges and blends in with the tar pit, until it is impossible to tell which part of this corrosive goo was once the mushroom monster, and which part was there originally. In their little shelter — the pile of fallen dead willow trunks where Bazhena has hidden them — the mushroom people let out a collective mournful sigh. Bazhena echoes them. "I wish we could have saved Boris..." Okomir, back as a human, saunters up to her and claps his hand encouragingly against the back of her shoulder. "Well, at least we saved all these fine people!" The mushroom people respond to that with a much livelier chorus of thanks. Okomir beams at each of them, and even indulges a few of the swooning mushroom youth by flexing his muscles. Lumi, in her frozen composure, is more business-like. "Is there anything you can tell us about this water blight?" she asks. "Like where it came from?" "We started noticing it around the swamp a while ago," says a lanky, melancholy-looking mushroom woman. She is pale as Lumi and has a peaky white cap with delicate lace trailing from under it, a bit like the Princess' bead veil. "But Boris told us that we shouldn't worry. That surely, the blight would never reach our village." "All of a sudden, his demise seems much less regrettable," Lumi declares, bluntly and tonelessly. Okomir bugs out his eyes. "I... I don't think that's a very considerate thing to say." "No," Lumi concedes. "Perhaps he wasn't fully aware of the danger. Like Her Highness. My apologies, Ms. ...?" "Amanita," the mushroom woman says, playing nervously with her white veil. You cannot tell if she is upset, or maybe a little bit overwhelmed by how attractive Lumi is. Both would be understandable. "And... And it's all right... Boris is — was — a little bit rude… and full of himself. Even if his ideas did mostly work. And, um... As for where the blight came from... It began spreading from that direction." She points at the horizon. [[Next->Amanita Talks]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Before Okomir can rocket off beyond the mushster's reach, and before Lumi can do anything to protect him, the creature thrashes its arms, and nearly grazes him with its sticky claws. Thankfully, the tainted slime does not actually get on Okomir's feathers — if it had, he might have risked losing a wing — but its slurping drops fly all around him, closer to his face than ever before. He chokes and gags, so overtaken by revulsion that he can scarcely sustain himself in flight. As he careens to the ground, you rush up to him to break his fall. He transforms back into a human in your arms, shaking all over and retching noiselessly every time he tries to get a word out. You slant your eyes furtively up the mushster's bulk. Thankfully, Lumi has arrived on the scene: wielding a shimmering whip of ice energy, which obeys her like a string of molten blue glass. With well-aimed lashes at the ground, she directs the mushster back to the tar pit whenever it attempts to abuse Okomir's vulnerability and reach down to finish both of you off. This gives you a chance to help Okomir up and steer him as far away from the nasty dark slime as you can. A few rattling gasps, a few tight-throat swallows — and Okomir calms down enough to speak. "Sorry," he mouths at you. "I... I handle disgust very poorly. I did once gouge a sea monster's eye out, but... I had to do it with my own eyes shut. Must have looked quite silly doing that, hah." You do not give any reply, overcome with a realization how close you are standing. Once again, Okomir's robust human form draws your eye. While he does have silver greaves and gauntlets, similar in design to those Lumi and Bazhena are wearing, his ceremonial armor is missing a chest piece. Maybe none could fit his broad, pillowy chest; maybe it's easier for him to transform into a bird and back this way. Or maybe — what with his acute senses — he just dislikes the rub of armor, or clothing, against his upper body. Either way. There he is. In all his glory. So, so near to you. [[You rather enjoy it->Heart Moment Okomir Village]] [[You find it awkward, more than anything->Awk Moment Okomir Village]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You linger by Okomir's side, unable to contain a smile as you marvel at how soft, yet strong he looks, with muscles underneath. Quite amazingly, he takes your own form in with the same unspoken interest. Ultimately, the only thing that distracts you from him — and him from you — is the sizzling burst of sila, as Lumi pushes the mushster in. [[Next->End of Boris]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Perhaps someone else would have gotten flustered by the proximity to such a hunk of a warrior. But you are only concerned by making sure that neither of you steps on the other's feet. In the end, you slowly edge away from Okomir. Just in time to hear the loud, sizzling burst of sila. Lumi has pushed the mushster in. [[Next->End of Boris]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} As your attention drifts, you stumble over... Something. Something that turns out to be the slice of a mushroom house's roof, broken off by a sweep of the mushroom monster's claws. You tumble to the bare, hardened white ground. It meets your knees with a splash of pain, like you had been scalded with boiling water. But the instant you make your flailing, graceless landing, a hand reaches out to pull you back. A firm, pale hand, cold as ice. "Come, $Name, you were doing so well a moment ago," says Lumi. Her expression is what she herself described as "deadpan", but a faint gargle creeps up the back of her throat. Is she... concerned for you? You take your time standing up. There is something to be considered about this pose you are in — on your knees before a beautiful woman. [[You rather enjoy it->Heart Moment Lumi Village]] [[You find it awkward, more than anything->Awk Moment Lumi Village]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} In fact, you feel a surge of wicked enjoyment pump through you. Lumi waits for you to take her hand, mostly impenetrable — save for the gargle, which now grows louder. You meet her eyes with a defiant grin, wondering what sort of emotions she is feeling now. Hopefully, you have not begun to annoy her... Ah, wait. Her thin, frosty lips press into a lopsided smirk. The sight of it a sharp tingle through your body. Not unlike being a little bit frostbitten yourself. You gaze up at her for as long as you can, before the emotions can overtake her again. When you finally clasp her fingers and get up, both of you turn to watch the mushroom monster collapse. [[Next->End of Boris]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} ...On second thought, this is just weird. You toss your head from side to side, shaking off your little fit of stupor, and grab Lumi's frozen fingers — with, perhaps, unnecessary force. She yanks you to your feet, with even more force. It is time to dust yourself off and focus on watching the mushroom monster collapse. [[Next->End of Boris]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The dawn has crept in while you were wandering in the swamp, watering down the night gloom. Against the first tints of greenish yellow where the sun ought to rise, you make out the sharp triangle a mountain. It is quite a bit... smoother than the usual craggy peaks you have seen. Almost as if it were made from... Glass? And there are clouds swirling around its peak — darker and denser than the feathery stripes that trail across the sky. As odd and artificial as the mountain itself. "Thank you, Amanita," Lumi inclines her head and courteously brings the mushroom woman's hand to her lips. "B-but..." Amanita blubbers, nearly turning to goo like Boris did. "What happens to us now? We lost our homes, and we... we don't have Boris with us to come up with ideas..." The four of you exchange looks, while the mushroom people huddle around you, eyes pleading. You scratch your head. You are no Boris, but you might have an idea... [[Tell the mushroom people to head to Svetloyar->Send Villagers to City]] [[Tell the mushroom people to head to your home->Send Villagers Home]] [[Tell the mushroom people it doesn't matter where they go, so long as they leave->Send Villagers Wherever]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Thank you," says Amanita, turning to cast a long, mournful look at the ravaged village. "For your help, and your counsel. There is nothing for us here now." Slowly, the mushroom people leave their shelter, and wander away in different directions. Searching the debris for something, anything, that might be useful for the journey ahead. As you look at them, it occurs to you that they might need some funds to buy themselves new supplies, and hopefully start a life out there, beyond the blighted swamp. You reach into the folds of your clothing, wondering if you have a stray lunka or two that might help. (if:$GotReward is false)[All you can find is the return fare you saved up when you thought your trip to Svetloyar would be short. Now that you are stuck in this swamp, you are not sure if you will even make use of it; there are not exactly too many inns and carriages out here, are there? And surely, these displaced villagers will need your fare more. But then again... Nothing is stopping Baba Yaga from flying in another time and dumping you in some unknown city. How will you survive if that happens? [[Give the mushroom people your last money->Money for Villagers]] [[Keep the money->No Money for Villagers]]] (if:$GotReward is true)[You still have the (if:$Reward is "purse")[pouch of gold from the innkeeper](if:$Reward is "corals")[servant girl's coral necklace]. You've been holding on to it all this time, just in case. Now is the right time to part with it. To give these mushroom folk something they can trade away for food and shelter, once they are in the great wide open. ...Though this will leave you with just a scant handful of lunkas you have saved up for your return trip from Svetloyar, and never ended up using. It is hard to decide. [[Give the mushroom people your reward->Reward for Villagers]] [[Keep the reward->No Reward for Villagers]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to true)After rubbing your fingers against the lunkas' engraved surface for a bit, to help you think, you settle on the answer. No matter where your future misadventures bring you, at least you can be certain that you'll have a home to return to. These poor people do not have that luxury. So you must help them. "Wait just a bit!" you run up to Amanita and thrust your last money into her hands. "It's not much, but it might help." Lumi follows after you, taking off her silver gauntlets. "Here is more," she announces, keeping herself in check with icy sila... Even though you could have sworn that the villagers' plight brought a tiny emotional twitch to her frozen face. Okomir gives up his gauntlets as well. Even Bazhena miraculously finds hers, which got lost amid the wreckage while everyone was trying to deal with the mushroom monster. And also passes them to Amanita. "Oh!" Amanita stutters. "Thank you again! You are very kind!" She rushes to show this treasure trove to the other villagers. And you — and your companions, who are giving you nods of approval — are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)After rubbing your fingers against the lunkas' engraved surface for a bit, to help you think, you settle on the answer. While your heart goes out to these villagers, you have been having some pretty wild misadventures yourself. The thought that you will be heading off into the unknown without a lunkas to your name, is not... Particularly comforting. So you keep silent, and tuck the lunkas away back where you carry them. At least... The villagers are not left entirely destitute. As you take a step back, it is Lumi who strides towards Amanita. "Here," she announces brashly. "Have my gauntlets. They are made from silver. You can sell them and buy food and board for your people." "Oh," Amanita squeaks, utterly weakened by Lumi's icy presence again. Okomir gives up his gauntlets as well. Even Bazhena miraculously finds hers, which got lost amid the wreckage while everyone was trying to deal with the mushroom monster. And also passes them to Amanita. "O good warriors!" Amanita stutters. "Thank you again! You are very kind!" She rushes to show this treasure trove to the other villagers. And you and your companions are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)(set: $GotReward to false)After weighing everyone's odds, you figure that yours are better than the mushroom people's. You are traveling with mighty druzhina warriors; they are left all on their own. Giving them a little something for the road is the least you can do. "Wait just a bit!" you run up to Amanita and thrust the $Reward into her hands. "(if:$Reward is "purse")[There is plenty of lunkas here](if:$Reward is "corals")[This ought to be worth plenty of lunkas]. Enough to help you on your journey." Lumi follows after you, taking off her silver gauntlets. "And here is more," she announces, keeping herself in check with icy sila... Even though you could have sworn that the villagers' plight brought a tiny emotional twitch to her frozen face. Okomir gives up his gauntlets as well. Even Bazhena miraculously finds hers, which got lost amid the wreckage while everyone was trying to deal with the mushroom monster. And also passes them to Amanita. "Oh!" Amanita stutters. "Thank you again! You are very kind!" She rushes to show this treasure trove to the other villagers. And you — and your companions, who are giving you nods of approval — are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)No, you decide. Something tells you that your misadventures are only just beginning. You will never know what your reward will come in handy. So you keep silent, and tuck the $Reward away back where you carry it. At least... The villagers are not left entirely destitute. As you take a step back, it is Lumi who strides towards Amanita. "Here," she announces brashly. "Have my gauntlets. They are made from silver. You can sell them and buy food and board for your people." "Oh," Amanita squeaks, utterly weakened by Lumi's icy presence again. Okomir gives up his gauntlets as well. Even Bazhena miraculously finds hers, which got lost amid the wreckage while everyone was trying to deal with the mushroom monster. And also passes them to Amanita. "O good warriors!" Amanita stutters. "Thank you again! You are very kind!" She rushes to show this treasure trove to the other villagers. And you and your companions are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Just as the bone-like banks are devoid of color, the air that hangs over the swamp, dark and hazy and stagnant, is devoid of sound. Not a single peep from a frog, or a chirp from some nocturnal bird, or even the faint hum of insect wings. Just the occasional slosh of heavy black fluid, as it slowly overtakes more and more of the islets down below. And the soft, barely audible crunch of your footsteps. Sometimes you think you can hear something else, vague and indefinable, seeping into your ear like swamp water. You slow down and glance over the bridge's edge, heart clenching, mouth dry... But all you see is the boundless black-and-white waste, which begins to wobble and undulate the longer you look, shifting closer and then dropping far, far down. You sway, unable to feel your limbs, with your windpipe blocked by vertigo like a crumbling chimney. But thankfully, just as you'd repeated obstinately to yourself when you just began crossing this unending bridge, your companions are there to catch you and set you firmly on your feet again. Where it's safe. Sometimes, Okomir descends with a warning squawk and grabs you by the shoulders, moving you away from the edge with remarkable ease. As though he were pushing a figure across the board in one of those Wa'Atan games. Sometimes, Bazhena grabs your hand and gently guides you to the middle of the bridge. "I got you, $Name," she smiles. "It's hard not to look down, isn't it? But we really should not do that." And sometimes, Lumi casts that net of hers and reels you in like a flailing fish. "You are safe now," she assures you in her flat, frozen voice. ...And then, at one point, just as she has dragged you from the brink again, she stares right at you and startles you with a curt, flat request, "$Name. Could you walk with me? I wanted to talk." [[Next->Talk with Lumi]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} An odd jolt shoots through you. You cannot quite tell if you are anxious — after all, there are few things more worrying than an iteration of "We need to talk", especially spoken by such a formidable woman of ice — or pleased by Lumi's attention. You walk side by side with Lumi, furtively watching her weave her complex spell work. She really uses her ice sila in most astounding ways, like nothing you have ever seen or heard stories about. Perhaps her... unusual origins had something to do with it. "Yes Lumi?" you finally manage to squeeze out of yourself. "Am... Am I in trouble?" She whips her head to look at you, fringe flying. "Why would you think that? Ah. Is it because I am currently emotionless? I apologize. I know it unsettles people. But it is either that, or coughing all the time until there is nothing left of me except a puddle of thaw water." You recollect what Lumi shared about her parent, and dare to ask, "You said your parent is a great wizard. Can't they do something to help you? So you won't thaw?" Suddenly, Lumi's pale-gray stare turns so intense that you feel like you are being impaled on a spear of ice. "My parent does not know about this. And they never will. These... coughing fits began when I was a teenager. Old enough to hide them. Everyone at home thinks I am just reserved. It is better this way." She tosses her fringe of side-shaved hair again. "And regardless. I wanted to talk about you, $Name. Not me." She adds another flurry of snowflakes to her hard frosty shell. As if to sustain her composure. "All this while, I have been worried — as far as I could feel worried — about dragging you into this. We are druzhina; myself and Okomir in particular. You are a civilian. By traveling with us, you are endangering yourself. So what I wanted to tell you was — I promise, swear even, that I will do what I can to protect you." [["Thank you. It is rather hard, being away from home"->Miss Home Lumi]] [["Are you joking? I am having an adventure!"->Adventure Lumi]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Thank you," you breathe out, with utmost sincerity. "It is rather hard, being far away from home. I... I feel so completely lost sometimes." Lumi nods earnestly. "I thought so. But you do not have to feel lost. Not with us. Not with me." [[Next->Found Exit]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "Are you joking?" you exclaim, tossing up your arms. "I am having an adventure! I mean... I appreciate that you want to protect me, but I am doing fine! This is the most excitement I have had in my whole life! Sure beats (if:$Race is "Human")[doing farm chores](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[doing mill chores](if:$Race is "Dryad")[doing rounds along the same forest path] every day!" "Hm." Lumi frowns. "I did not consider this. But if this... adventure leads you into the jaws of some hungry beast, you can count on me to get you out of there." [[Next->Found Exit]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Your mouth hangs open, just a tiny bit. You cannot quite figure out whether Lumi is being so protective because it's her duty — or because... maybe... she actually likes you? Nor can you be certain how you feel about this. And before you can make up your mind, both you and Lumi are distracted by the loud cries — "Look!" and then, "Looklooklook" in an excited, screeching bird voice — coming from Bazhena and Okomir. It turns out that the black and white of the dead swamp has finally been livened up by patches of green. As you take a new, very, very cautious, look down (with Lumi's hand, cold but reassuring, holding your shoulder to keep you from stumbling), you make out so much green. A bit ghostlike, cold in the glow of the bridge. But green nonetheless. Rolling pillows of grass. And huge, lush, ornate ferns. And flat, dewy water lily pads. And even a fine, dotty green film of duckweeds along the edge of the water. Actual water: clear and reflective and... Alive. You have reached the very edge of the swamp, where the blighted wastes end and thriving, yet untouched wilds begin. From here, you should be able to find a path, which will merge with a road, which will widen into a thoroughfare, which will take you back to Svetloyar. Back to the petrified court, where people need you. Lumi makes a motion as if to flex the muscles of the arm that she has been using to create the bridge (it does have to be rather stiff at this point). When she does that, the icy sila abruptly stops spreading through the air, and cascades down in steep steps that vanish in the grass, touching the edges of the green blades with crisp silvery lace. "Oh finally!" cries Okomir, tossing himself into the grass and turning back human when his chest hits the soil. It takes him a moment to transform: apparently, he needs a solid surface for that, the more so the better; and the forest floor is softer than the bone-like banks of the swamp. But when he does shed his feathers, his freckled face is split by the most blissful of grins. "All that black-and-white was making my eyes hurt! And oh, the smells! Water smelling like actual water! Imagine that...! And yes, I know that pure water has no smell, but all this soil, this greenery, it's coloring it up!" He babbles on excitedly for a bit longer, running his fingers through the grass. Bazhena joins him — in a little trot down the snow stairs. You and Lumi descend as well. The living, unblighted forest welcomes you into its fresh, fragrant, slightly moist embrace, swathing you in a bright patchwork blanket of sounds. There come those frogs, and early birds, and... Something else. A buzz, soft at first, but then stronger. Ever stronger, ever harsher, slicing at your ears and pounding at your skull. A whole swarm is approaching. And it's not insects. [[Next->Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Anyone who has ever meandered down a thread-like, overgrown path in the forest, or stepped out into a wide-open meadow, or even planted a little flower bed along their windowsill, has seen pixies. At least once. These tiny folk are commonplace in every kingdom, and in Rodina, the people have nicknamed them zhuzhi, buzzers. Because they flit about on bee-like wings, feasting on nectar and adorning their little dresses with pompoms of golden pollen. Usually, the pixies' wings — their main source of sila, which some less benevolent witches tear off and grind for potions — glow some soft, soothing color. Like blue or green or pale—yellow. But the wings of these pixies, which approach the four of you from the direction of the swamp, in a dense, thrumming cloud, glow blood-red. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. In a blink, the cloud descends. Upon instinct, both you and Bazhena (and even Okomir, still lounging in the grass) raise your arms over your faces, for protection. This proves a good idea, too: the pixies cling to you, scraping and chomping and trying to rip past your clothes. To find skin, flesh, blood. As the pixies' burning bites break through — sinking deep, lodging in your (if:$Race is "Dryad")[bark](if:$Race is "Human")[skin](if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[fur] like white—hot needles — you cower and try to shake off the ravenous little beasties. You catch a glimpse of a few of their faces: tiny vicious masks, so contorted that they look like they were cast from wax, and then half—melted. Okomir, overwhelmed by all the erratic movement and red glow and endless thrum of wings, scarcely manages to flop over on the ground: so that his chest touches the turf and he can transform back into a bird. "Well, that is new!" he splutters, closing his ears and shaking off a whole shower of pixies. "We've got to scare them off somehow!" "Or shield ourselves," says Lumi, who has been coating herself in so much ice that the pixies bounce off, nursing their jaws and saying "Ow, ow, ow!" in their little squeaky voices (which would have been funny if they were not so bloodthirsty). "I think we could hide!" Bazhena cuts in, pulling the pixies out of her braids. Yes neither of them acts. All three remain where they are, half—dazed by the loud, shrill, disorienting buzz of the pixies. Perhaps if you made a move first... [[Move towards Okomir->Okomir vs Pixies]] [[Move towards Lumi->Lumi vs Pixies]] [[Move towards Bazhena->Bazhena vs Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Stumbling, squinting your eyes, nearly spitting out pixie wings, you shift closer to Okomir. He slants his yellow eye at you and squawks, "All right, everyone, get ready for a pixie tornado! A pixienado!" Hovering in front of you, he begins to flap his wings, in a repetitive, choppy, forceful motion. Like the air were a kitchen carving board, and his wings were feathery knife blades. This creates a powerful gust of wind. More powerful than you expected — perhaps fueled by the same innate sila that lets the Erzi people do their shapeshifting. It hits the pixies in an unseen torrent — swirling, frothing stream over rapids — and carries them off, over the boundary between the green and the black-and-white. Back into the swamp. Most of the swarm gets rammed by the magic wind into a dead willow: one of the many you have seen around the wasteland. As they continue to glow, like scattered embers, you can make you them sliding down the bleached, bark-less trunk, wings crumpled and heads wobbly. Like ever so many tiny drunks slipping down the wall when their legs fail them. They will probably come back again once they recover — but for now, you can relax, and release your baited breath, and scratch at the pixie bites on your forearms. "Quite a pixienado, isn't it?" Okomir chuckles, after diving back into the grass and emerging as human. "The most pixienado to ever nado! Oof..." The scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. "Good thing I took care of them before their... ugh... noises and colors got the better of me. It was this close to happening!" "Thank you, Okomir," says Lumi, from a few paces' distance. "Eey, always a pleasure to use mine mighty wings! Oh — sorry $Name!" Okomir has turned to wave genially at Lumi... And bumped into you, as you have been sort of shuffling about in the way. For a moment, the two of you freeze. Silent. Uncertain what to say next. And very close to each other. [[This is awkward, but enjoyable->Heart Moment Okomir Pixies]] [[Actually, this is just awkward->Awk Moment Okomir Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Half-blinded by the swarm, you stagger to where you think Lumi stands. Seeking her protection. Just as she promised. She smiles at you when you draw closer — not with her eyes, those are icy and unfeeling; just with her thin-lipped mouth... But still. Bazhena and Okomir scurry to her as well. Standing in front of you three, facing the swarm, Lumi secures a firm foothold and rollz her toned shoulders. And begins weaving her ice magic anew. This time, her sila molds into a giant icy shield, which Lumi holds up in mid-air, without touching it, through sheer force of will. When it first condenses from thin air, crackling and raining miniscule orbs of blue light, the shield is just a flat slab of ice. About as broad as Lumi is tall. But it does not stop at that. It expands, to the left and to the right and upwards. Its edges curve and meet somewhere behind your back and over your head, fusing together with a crisp sizzle. You are now enclosed in a whole dome of ice, made out of several large, glinting facets that cast oval speckles of reflected moonlight onto your face, and limbs, and the ground enclosed inside the dome. Lumi has hidden you, and Bazhena, and Okomir, into a protective shell that the pixies cannot break through. And they do try. They smash into the half-transparent, silver-blue icy roof. Again and again. Splat, splat, splat, like glowing tomatoes tossed at you from the outside. Bazhena squirms every time, probably expecting the pixies to burst on impact. But they survive every onslaught. Battered and bruised, they tear themselves away from the ice, and try once more. They hiss noiselessly, and break their claws against the dome. But still they try — so Lumi decides to deter them further. Grunting slightly with the effort, she shuts her eyes and grinds her teeth and pours an even stronger charge of sila into the dome. In a matter of seconds, the polished, faceted surface sprouts long, glassy, needle-sharp spikes.(if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[ You suddenly remember how Master Feofan, the mayor of Bulochkin — a round-cheeked old cat with sideburns the size of shovels — came up with a rather dubious plan to add similar spikes, except made from metal, to the monuments in the town square. To keep pigeons from landing and, well... Befouling them.] The pixies have less space to lunge at the dome now. They maneuver for a little bit, trying to squeeze in between the spikes — but inevitably have to fall back, as new spikes push out of the gaps. Even longer. Even sharper. Packing tighter and tighter till there is no room to fly and bite at all. At long last, the swarm leaves, its hunger unquenched. Lumi exhales and stumbles back, drained by her intense spellcasting. As you are standing closest to her, she nearly falls into your arms. The mighty ice mage is now leaning on you for support. [[This is awkward, but enjoyable->Heart Moment Lumi Pixies]] [[Actually, this is just awkward->Awk Moment Lumi Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Hiding does seem like an excellent plan. Wincing and crying out every time a pixie manages to get to you, you rush towards Bazhena. Not mincing any words or wasting any time, she grabs your hand and pulls you after her — and also beckons energetically with her free hand for Okomir and Lumi to follow. Apparently, she has spotted a little patch ground carpeted in massive purple blossoms with a link swirl in the middle. They emit a dense, cloying scent. Sweet as an overflowing sugar bowl, and strong enough for Okomir, with his sharpened senses, to choke a little. "I am very sorry," Bazhena tells him breathlessly while your little group follows her cue and settles among the flowers. "They... They do have quite a smell, don't they? But these are also about the only flowers that repel zhuzhi — pixies — instead of attracting them. I once had to study a very... graphic drawing of a pixie vomiting at this smell. It kind of stuck with me." "You have good knowledge, Bazhena," Lumi tells her, watching the pixies circle around at a respectable distance and clench their tiny noses in disgust. "Very useful." "I... That's all I can hope for. Being useful to the druzhina." She casts her eyes down, flushing darkly... And then you realize that you have been holding her hand all this time. [[This is awkward, but enjoyable->Heart Moment Bazhena Pixies]] [[Actually, this is just awkward->Awk Moment Bazhena Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Flower to false)Your heart skips a bit as you take all of Okomir in. He is not meeting your eyes — that is hard for him, you know — but his whole being radiates a smile. While he does have silver greaves and gauntlets, similar in design to those Lumi and Bazhena are wearing, Okomir's ceremonial armor is missing a chest piece. Maybe none could fit his vast, pillowy form; maybe it's easier for him to transform into a bird and back this way; or maybe he just dislikes the rub of armor, or clothing, against his upper body. Whatever the reason, without armor in the way, you can truly appreciate how soft he looks, with muscles underneath. How strong and protective he is. How clever, too — the way he dealt with those pixies; joking all the while. Honestly, you could bask in his company much longer — but your reverie is interrupted, quite rudely, when a speck of red floats into your field of view. One pixie is still here. [[Next->Stray Pixie]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Flower to false)You are certain that bumping together is a great story trope and all, but right now, you are too preoccupied by the fate of that swarm. Or pixienado, you suppose. So you sidestep as far from Okomir as you can... And just as you do that, a speck of red floats into your field of view. One pixie is still here. [[Next->Stray Pixie]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} It looks confused rather than aggressive, wobbling about in mid-air away from her swarm. Okomir squints his bird eyes at her. "You know, when they are like this... on their own... It's hard to get angry at all that stinging." "Maybe the pixies lost control somehow?" Lumi chimes in — while still whipping up a gust of glowing frosty energy in her hand, as a precaution. "We could test it out?" Bazhena tilts her head, with the aura of the pixie reflected in her enormous dark eyes. "Reason with the poor thing? Let me try." "Be careful," says Lumi. While Okomir (who took the first chance he could to edge away from the overly fragrant blossoms) chuckles, "Hey, she did kill a dragon! What's one little bitey mite!" "This bitey mite can call an entire bitey family for help, Okomir." "Ouch. Well, in that case, we still have those stinky flowers, I suppose." Again, the mention of the dragon seems to make Bazhena wince. But she swallows her discomfort and cautiously tiptoes towards the pixie. (if:$Flower is true)[ Before reaching out, she takes the flower out of her hair and gives you an apologetic glance over her shoulder. "This was a lovely gesture, $Name, but I wouldn't want to make the poor thing sick."] The pixie does hiss faintly when the distance closes, but makes no attempts to bite. Bazhena cups her gingerly into her hands and coos to it, "Why are you like this, little friend? Did someone cast a spell on you? Do not be afraid. Maybe we can help. If you just... Calm down." The pixie hisses again, wings flapping weakly against the pillows of Bazhena's thumbs. And then, unexpectedly, almost impossibly, the red glow bleeds out of her tiny body. Droplet by droplet. Leaving behind a healthy, soothing, forestry green. Bazhena's eyebrows soar up, as if she herself was uncertain that this would work. The other three companions — Lumi, Okomir, and yourself — approach her, and the pixie splutters something slurred, and eyes you all. With the expression of someone who just woke up from an afternoon nap they expected to last for thirty minutes at most, but somehow plummeted into for three hours. "What... How..." she asks. "Is the red light gone?" "Only from you, friend," Bazhena says. "Your swarm is still affected. If you bring them over one by one, I could try soothing them just as I soothed you." "Oh! Yes, yes of course! The red light is a... horrid thing to happen!" The pixie flits through the air, and soon comes back with a struggling, teeth-snapping kinsman in tow. As before, Bazhena holds him in her hands, despite some wriggling (while Lumi and Okomir watch the woodland, for signs of the swarm returning). And as before, a few calming words make the pixie come to his senses. There are now two of them, free of the red glow. Together, they bring more kin to Bazhena — and even manage to soothe some on their own, by embracing them and whispering that they would be all right. Okomir and Lumi also do their part to help calm the pixies. Okomir is especially apt at that, soft and cuddly as he is. And Lumi speaks to the pixies in her emotionless, monotone voice: at a steady rhythm that drains the aggression right out of them. At one point, she places her cupped hands under your nose, inviting you to soothe the little critter that is twitching and thrashing in the little icy prison of her fingers. [[You accept, knowing that you can do it->Calm Success]] [[You accept, even though you doubt that you will be able to do it->Calm Fail]] [[You decline->Refuse Calm]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Flower to false)You gently help Lumi steady herself, and smile at her. Lingering with your arms around her while the dome begins to thaw away. "You told me you'd protect me, but I think I will be returning the favor now and again." "Please..." Lumi catches her breath and pushes her blue fringe out of her eyes. You know that she will need to freeze herself soon, and any emotions in these translucent gray depths will be wiped away... But for now, you try to commit to memory what you see in her gaze. Gratitude. Mischief. A hint of... softness? "Please do not tell me that you will be keeping a toll of who protects whom most. With Okomir, such things always become a contest." "You still owe me for that time I tangled the necks of the three-headed serpent together so you could escape!" Okomir pipes up from the background. "I might," you blurt out, consumed by her pale eyes. "I might even win!" She chortles at your boldness. As you expected, the sound soon turns into a cough, and Lumi subdues her own emotions with the now all too familiar spell. But you are going to hold on to the expression she just had. You are... Suddenly, in the middle of your daydreams, a speck of red floats into your field of view. One pixie is still here. [[Next->Stray Pixie]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Flower to false)You hold on to Lumi for as long as is necessary for her to regain strength. But not a moment more. Otherwise, this would have turned far,far too awkward. Meanwhile, the dome melts away, revealing a clear sky. Dark in what must be the pre—dawn hours already. And against that darkness, a speck of red floats into your field of view. One pixie is still here. [[Next->Stray Pixie]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Bazhena is wearing her ceremonial silver gauntlets, so you can't really sense her warmth, skin to skin — but the sheer proximity to her is enough to make you pulse quicken. A sweet warmth spreads its quivering wings in your chest and stomach (much, much more pleasant to feel than the buzz of the pixie swarm, that's for certain). With your free hand, you reach impulsively towards the purple flowers. Their scent may be rather... too much, but they do look pretty. You simply cannot resist its bubbling, tingling draw — the wish to pluck it and tuck it into Bazhena's hair.(set: $Flower to true) It probably looks a little different in the daytime, but right now, in the fading glow in the moons, it fits so well with Bazhena's glossy black braids, and gray Alfr skin, and the fringe of silver in front of her face. She touches the blossom with a small "Oh!" and lets out a gentle peel of laughter — which you join, sweetly, blissfully... Until a speck of red floats suddenly into your field of view. One pixie is still here. [[Next->Stray Pixie]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Flower to false)You pull your hand out of Bazhena's grasp, clearing your throat. A hint of awkward tension touches the air, like the frost conjured by Lumi. But thankfully (or not?), a distraction comes along: a speck of red that suddenly floats into your field of view. One pixie is still here. [[Next->Stray Pixie]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You eagerly accept Lumi's unspoken suggestion. You have always had a calming effect on people. You are certain that your skills will work on this bitey fellow as well. "Shh, you can relax now," you tell the pixie, cautiously stroking the crown of his tiny head. The fellow shuts his eyes into crescents, like a cat in the sun. And the redness ebbs away. "Good job," Lumi tells you. She is not in the right state to muster a properly approving intonation right now. But she still makes the point of praising you. Which is what matters most, isn't it? [[Next->Pixie Queen]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} After some hesitation, you accept. You are not particularly great at calming people down, but it doesn't hurt to try, does it? ...Actually, it kind of does. The moment you lean over and try to whisper something like "There there", the pixie leaps up and snaps angrily at the tip of your nose. "Ouch," you mumble, rubbing the sore spot. "Worth a try," Lumi comments flatly, and gently pries the pixie away from you. Well, at least she cannot feel disappointed in you right now. [[Next->Pixie Queen]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} You shake your head. You are not particularly great at calming people down, and you might do more harm than good. Can't have the pixie frothing at the mouth instead of regaining his senses, right? "Fair enough," Lumi tells you, her tone measured and rational and emotionless. And then resumes her own attempts to calm the critter. Well, at least she cannot feel disappointed in you right now. [[Next->Pixie Queen]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} Before long, the whole swarm is back. Back in this forest clearing, and back in their right minds. It is like the starry sky has descended to just inches above your head: twinkling gold, sometimes so pale that it becomes white, with some facets of emerald as well. One of the pixies from the swarm flies up to your companions and you and curtseys in mid—air, spreading her wings. She is taller than the others, and has a tiny crown on her head, with balls of pollen on the tips of the spikes. "Thank you, good strangers," she says. Very solemnly, you think — though it's hard to tell, what with how high-pitched her voice is. "We deeply regret attacking you. The red light took over our minds, pushing us to attack and maim — and if it were not for your calming voices..." "If I may," says Lumi, after returning the pixie queen's curtsey by standing on ceremony. "What caused this... red light?" The pixie queen hangs her crowned head wistfully. "One day, the marsh changed. Streams of black poison began seeping into our water. Destroying all life on their path. Starting from that direction." She points her tiny glowing hand at the horizon. The dawn has crept in while you were wandering in the swamp, watering down the night gloom. Against the first tints of greenish yellow where the sun ought to rise, you make out the sharp triangle a mountain. Far, far away, on the other edge of the swamp that you just escaped. It is quite a bit... smoother than the usual craggy peaks you have seen. Almost as if it were made from... Glass? And there are clouds swirling around its peak — darker and denser than the feathery stripes that trail across the sky. As odd and artificial as the mountain itself. "We lost everything," the pixie queen goes on. "Our flower homes. Our nectar. Even a few of our kin, who... Got the dead water on their wings, and crumbled to white dust." The entire swarm mirrors the queen's somber bow. The three druzhina warriors also incline their heads as a sign of respect... And you feel a nauseating coil of anxiety throb against your gut. Please don't let the same happen to (if:$Race is "Beastfolk")[your grandfather](if:$Race is "Human")[the people and livestock at your farm](if:$Race is "Dryad")[your clan kin]. "We felt so lost. Terrified and angry. Our sila got corrupted; we started seeing a red light before our eyes — and then, nothing." "Whoah. This blight is just a gift that keeps on giving." Okomir glances back at the swamp. "Well, at least you are back in control now," Lumi points out. "Self-control is important. You probably need a new home, though. Now that yours has been corrupted." "Yes!" the pixie queen squeaks. "We have no idea where we'd go!" The swarm buzzes in agitation, and you shudder a little. Maybe you should give the pixies some pointers before their anguish turns them red again. [[Tell the pixies to head to Svetloyar->Send Pixies to City]] [[Tell the pixies to head to your home->Send Pixies Home]] [[Tell the pixies it doesn't matter where they go, so long as they leave->Send Pixies Wherever]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "You could try the big city on the hill," you say. "It has walls and, uh, guards... There ought to be some place there for you to take shelter. There ought to be orchards and gardens on the city outskirts, too. And flowers in people's homes. Plenty of nectar to choose from." [[Next->Monies for Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "The place I come from is mostly untouched by the blight," you muse slowly. "Or it was, before I left. At the very least, you could try asking for help from the people / dryads who live there. Tell them that $Name sent you... And that..." Your throat feels tight and scratchy for a moment. "That $PronounNom $PronounVerbPresent safe." [[Next->Monies for Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} "You are out of the swamp now; and that's all that matters," you remind the queen. "Just... Fly on and on until you find a meadow or a garden. Far away from here. You'll figure out what to do from there." [[Next->Monies for Pixies]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} The queen gives you another curtsey. "Sound council, o friendly giant," she tells you. "We will do as you say. I hope there is a place for us out there, in the world of the big folk." Suddenly, it occurs to you that the "world of the big folk" is the world of trading. Of money. These little zhuzhi have probably never heard of such things in their wild swamp... But they might have to use them on the open road, where there are inns and the homesteads of people who might ask the swarm of pixies for rent in exchange for sheltering in their garden. You rummage in your pockets (or what passes for pockets in your attire, at any rate), trying to figure out how you can help. (if:$GotReward is false)[All you can find is the return fare you saved up when you thought your trip to Svetloyar would be short. Now that you are stuck in the wilds swamp, you are not sure if you will even need this; there are not exactly too many inns and carriages out here, are there? But then again, nothing is stopping Baba Yaga from flying in another time and dumping you in some unknown city. [[Give the pixies your last money->Money for Pixies]] [[Keep the money->No Money for Pixies]]] (if:$GotReward is true)[You still have the (if:$Reward is "purse")[pouch of gold from the innkeeper](if:$Reward is "corals")[servant girl's coral necklace]. There is more than enough here to satisfy even the stringiest landlord... Though you cannot be certain when you yourself might need this reward of yours to pay your way out of yet another misadventure. [[Give the pixies your reward->Reward for Pixies]] [[Keep the reward->No Reward for Pixies]]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to true)"Please take these," you arrange the lunkas in the palm of your hand and show them to the pixie queen. "The big folk trade them for food and board. You might find them useful." The queen flits above the lunkas, fascinated by the etchings in the metal — and then snaps her fingers. Several pixies from the swarm — muscular and broad-chested, like tiny overturned triangles — answer her summons and hoist the lunkas up into the air, wings working so strenuously that they appear blurred. Soon, even more muscular pixies have to be summoned: Okomir, Lumi, and Bazhena all take off their capes and hand the pixies the silver clasps that were holding them in place. "Great treasures indeed!" the queen sings. "Many thanks to you again!" With that, the swarm departs, melting into the dawn. And you — and your companions, who are giving you nods of approval — are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)After some consideration, though, you decide that you need these lunkas more. The pixies could always trade for their room and board by pollinating the flowers. Or maybe they will settle in a wild meadow, with no landlord to expect lunkas at all. Whereas you probably in for more adventures and misadventures. And it's best not to face them penniless. So you tuck your lunkas back into your clothes, and say nothing. Your companions, however, reason differently. After exchanging a meaningful look, they take off their capes and show the pixie queen the silver clasps that were holding them in place. "This metal is valuable among the big folk," says Lumi. "Please use it." The queen flits above the clasps, fascinated by the etchings in the metal — and then snaps her fingers. Several pixies from the swarm — muscular and broad-chested, like tiny overturned triangles — answer her summons and hoist the silver up into the air, wings working so strenuously that they appear blurred. "Great treasures indeed!" the queen sings. "Many thanks to you again!" With that, the swarm departs, melting into the dawn. And you and your companions are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)(set: $GotReward to false)"Here," you reach out, showing the $Reward to the pixie queen. “Among the big folk, these coins/corals are precious valuables. Something that will help you provide for your people.” The queen flits above the $Reward, utterly fascinated — and then snaps her fingers. Several pixies from the swarm — muscular and broad-chested, like tiny overturned triangles — answer her summons and hoist the $Reward up into the air, wings working so strenuously that they appear blurred. Soon, even more muscular pixies have to be summoned: Okomir, Lumi, and Bazhena all take off their capes and hand the pixies the silver clasps that were holding them in place. "Great treasures indeed!" the queen sings. "Many thanks to you again!" With that, the swarm departs, melting into the dawn. And you — and your companions, who are giving you nods of approval — are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]

{(link:"Save game")[(if:(save-game: "1"))[Game saved!]]} {(link: "Load game")[(load-game: "1")]} (set: $Broke to false)After some consideration, though, you decide that it is best to hold on to this reward a little longer. The pixies could always trade for their room and board by pollinating the flowers. Or maybe they will settle in a wild meadow, with no landlord to expect lunkas at all. Whereas you probably in for more adventures and misadventures. And it's best not to face them without a little bit of treasure. So you tuck your $Reward back into your clothes, and say nothing. Your companions, however, reason differently. After exchanging a meaningful look, they take off their capes and show the pixie queen the silver clasps that were holding them in place. "This metal is valuable among the big folk," says Lumi. "Please use it." The queen flits above the clasps, fascinated by the etchings in the metal — and then snaps her fingers. Several pixies from the swarm — muscular and broad-chested, like tiny overturned triangles — answer her summons and hoist the silver up into the air, wings working so strenuously that they appear blurred. "Great treasures indeed!" the queen sings. "Many thanks to you again!" With that, the swarm departs, melting into the dawn. And you and your companions are left to ponder what you have learned here. [[Next->Yaga Is Here Again]]