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,,,,,,,<<if $codex201 neq true>><<run memorize('codex201', true)>><<set $codex201 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Clockwork<</notify>><<endif>>\
//Something is stirring.//
The thought comes to you unbidden, flitting across the forefront of your conscious mind like a dancer whirling from one partner to the next, uninterested in your attention. The casualness of it, the lack of need for you to understand why or how it is that you came to think such a thing… that worries you, even moreso than the thought itself. You grab onto that feeling, chase it down.
What, exactly, is stirring? And what does that mean? Why do you sense it?
You’re no stranger to intuition; in your line of work, not trusting your instincts can be a quick route into an early grave. But you don’t usually get feelings that are so… ethereal.
Metal grinds against metal somewhere above you, and you flinch - but it’s just the minute-hand of the clock in the centre of town, methodically shunting itself towards midnight.
The balmy sea breeze is damp, and you expect that a cool fog will blow in over the city by the time dawn comes. Laughter spills from open windows and streetfront doors nearby, while splashes of lantern-light cut cheerily through the darkness. The familiar sights and sounds of people partying as they celebrate the Wolven Empress’ diplomatic visit should put you at ease, but that one fleeting thought has you on edge instead. Like a rip current in the water, you feel it pulling at you. Where it wants you to go, however, you can’t be sure.
The clanking gears in the clockwork above you tell you that you’ve stood here frozen for a full minute already. At this time of night, you should probably head back to your accommodations, but you’re not really in the mood for it right now.
[[Maybe a walk will clear your head…|prlg02]]<<if $codex301 neq true>><<run memorize('codex301', true)>><<set $codex301 to true>><<run memorize('codex202', true)>><<set $codex202 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: Badjawarrah, Armour<</notify>><<endif>>\
The nighttime vista of Badjawarrah in spring extends before you, looking entirely unthreatening. The smell of the ocean mingles with the scent of lemon myrtle exulting in the evening’s rain, but the mundanity can’t quite put you at ease tonight.
The streets are cobbled in the region’s ubiquitous basalt, and the slick, uneven surfaces of the stones glimmer fiercely as they reflect the light of the full moon. A coach-and-pair goes skittering past on the wet road, the driver nodding at you in acknowledgement, and it’s swiftly followed by a clockwork palanquin.
If something really is stirring in the city tonight, it seems that its residents are largely none the wiser.
You let your feet carry you along the main avenue, pausing only to return the lamplighters’ polite gestures of greeting. Being as noticeable as you inevitably always are in your armour can sometimes be tiresome, but tonight the obvious faith that the townspeople have in you is galvanising. They walk taller after they see you out and about… they laugh louder, and they seem to feel safer.
It’s your job, after all, keeping people safe. It’s what you were called on to do when you joined your church.
Calmer now, you mull things over as you walk, hoping that you can uncover the source of your strange feeling. You sift through ideas and toss them aside like you’re searching for a book in a crowded attic - there’s not much you can do but examine what’s to hand.
Due to its position near the border with the Empire, and the comfortable wealth of its populace, Badjawarrah is always at least partially on alert for political upheaval. But political movements don’t pop up overnight, and there have been no discontented rumblings that you’ve noticed in your time here over the past few weeks. You consider briefly that it might have something to do with the Empress’ visit, but it seems like a lot of extra effort for her detractors to hunt her down here, instead of taking their chances at home.
Besides, it’s not as if she didn’t bring guards.
[[Perhaps it has something to do with the people who attacked you the other day?|prlg03]]<<set $codex101 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Enarra<</notify>>\
This particular thought stops you dead in your tracks. You can’t think why your feeling of dread //would// relate to the scuffle you’d stumbled into, but the niggling doubt that hangs over your thoughts on the matter is enough to make you wonder.
You suddenly feel a twinge of regret about wandering through the city’s streets alone, so close to midnight. Normally your partner, Enarra, would be with you - or more accurately, skulking somewhere behind you, his trained eyes watching for any movement in the shadows - but he had been injured in the exact skirmish that was now causing you so much concern, and so you’d told him to take it easy for a few days and recuperate.
You’re more than used to handling yourself in fights… but as the old saying goes, your enemies only need to be lucky once.
You consider going to find him, telling him about your concerns, but you brush the thought aside for now. The second you even mentioned it to him, he would insist on coming with you to investigate, and he shouldn’t be fighting while he’s injured. Like most thym’ani, he’s agile and strong, and he’s a damn good sniper, but he’s also impulsive and stubborn, and very good at not listening to things he doesn’t want to hear.
He’s also currently very grumpy about having taken bullets in two of his four arms, and would no doubt be even harder to argue with than usual for this reason.
[[The two of you are close, so the whole thing is weighing on you somewhat.|prlg04a]]
[[The two of you haven’t worked together for all that long, but dealing with injuries on the job is never pleasant.|prlg04b]]
[[The two of you have a relationship based strictly on work. You’re reluctant to drag him into something so… personal.|prlg04c][$enarra = 10, $enarrastatus = "zugzug"]]
[[The two of you don’t get along, so you’d rather not involve him if you can get away with it.|prlg04d][$turmoil += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Turmoil//]<<endif>>It was hard, seeing him get shot like that - it always is. The blood, the uncertainty, him swearing a blue streak while you turned your attention to your attackers… it’s all unpleasantly crisp in your memory, like a legal document you don’t want to read. Pure, unfiltered starch in experiential form.
Maybe //that’s// why you’re feeling off tonight, you muse, as your feet continue to carry you along the rain-slick streets. Maybe it has nothing to do with some sinister, shadowy business that you can somehow sense, and more to do with being disquieted by the fact that Enarra could very well have died a few days ago.
In your line of work, risking life and limb is simply part of the job, and it’s not the first time one of you has been wounded in the line of duty. But it never gets any easier; in fact, you think it might be getting worse. Each new bullet feels like a grim milestone, a new notch marked on some unseen score counter. How long before one or both of you runs out of space for notches?
You’d barely had time to react before the fight had started… and it could easily have gone differently.
[[You’d managed to spot your attackers pulling out their weapons, just in time to avoid their opening volley.|prlg05a][$vig += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Vigilance//]<<endif>>
[[Though you were just as taken by surprise as Enarra, your reflexes had been good enough to allow you to dodge out of the way.|prlg05b][$agi += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Agility//]<<endif>>
[[It was pure luck that you’d managed to avoid getting hit. Or maybe divine intervention.|prlg05c][$faith += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith//]<<endif>>You and he have been in your fair share of scrapes, of course, though thankfully you’ve managed to escape with only relatively minor injuries thus far. Even his current wounds are something that he can easily recover from, and if you hadn’t been taken by surprise, he probably wouldn’t even have ended up getting shot.
But you were, and he did, though. And that thought sits like lead in the pit of your stomach.
How much of this sudden feeling of fear is some instinctual sense of something being wrong, and how much is just anxiety about the fact that you know now that you won’t always be lucky? Puddles splash under your feet as you continue dutifully through the streets, and you’re forced to confront the fact that you don’t know exactly who else might be taking the night air and potentially lurking nearby.
You’re not afraid for yourself. You trust yourself, and your own abilities, at least to the degree that you know you’ll fight as hard as you can in any given situation. The terror of watching a comrade go down, though, and not knowing whether they’ll get back up, that’s…
You grit your teeth, and stamp your feet angrily on the cobbles. It’s sobering, how quickly a situation can turn bad. You’d barely had time to react before the fight had started… and it could easily have gone differently.
[[You’d managed to spot your attackers pulling out their weapons, just in time to avoid their opening volley.|prlg05a][$vig += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Vigilance//]<<endif>>
[[Though you were just as taken by surprise as Enarra, your reflexes had been good enough to allow you to dodge out of the way.|prlg05b][$agi += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Agility//]<<endif>>
[[It was pure luck that you’d managed to avoid getting hit. Or maybe divine intervention.|prlg05c][$faith += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith//]<<endif>>Enarra isn’t the most emotionally open man you’ve ever met, but that’s never particularly bothered you. The two of you aren’t the kind of partners who know each other’s every secret, or spend every second together, but you //are// the kind that gets the job done, so you figure that you must be doing something right.
Some teams can only work when supported by unwavering trust and emotional intimacy, but yours functions just fine running on professionalism.
The whole reason that you can’t tell him your suspicions that there might be something going on is the obvious one: that if you’re correct, it’s objectively a bad idea to be out here on your own. You suppose that maybe part of why you’re unwilling to give in to what you know to be the wisest course of action is because you’re reluctant to trust in this intangible, ominous feeling of vague dread.
If you went and collected Enarra and scoured the city only to find nothing, he would probably accept it and be glad nothing further had happened… but you, on the other hand, would likely feel like you’d made a fool of yourself.
Not to mention, the two of you being together hadn’t helped you the other day.
[[You’d managed to spot your attackers pulling out their weapons, just in time to avoid their opening volley.|prlg05a][$vig += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Vigilance//]<<endif>>
[[Though you were just as taken by surprise as Enarra, your reflexes had been good enough to allow you to dodge out of the way.|prlg05b][$agi += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Agility//]<<endif>>
[[It was pure luck that you’d managed to avoid getting hit. Or maybe divine intervention.|prlg05c][$faith += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith//]<<endif>>It’s irritating and inconvenient that you’re out here on your own because he’s injured, but even more irritating and inconvenient that it’s really not his fault. Some days, you’re just unlucky, and this time he happened to draw the short straw. Which means that on top of everything else, you can’t even get any satisfaction out of needling him about it.
You might needle him anyway, of course… it just won’t be as satisfying as if he’d brought this misfortune on himself.
The idea of going to tell him that you feel like something is off once again passes through your head, making you grimace. You can see the whole argument unfolding before you, like a priceless woven rug: he’ll be snide about you needing his help, you’ll be angry at him being snide and go to leave, he’ll get offended at the idea that you don’t need his help and insist on coming - before you know it, the two of you will be snarling at each other loud enough to scare off whatever trouble might be brewing. Or worse, loud enough to cause you to make mistakes.
Luckily that hadn’t been the cause of his injury the other day, or you might have to think about feeling a little bit guilty. You’d barely had time to react, before the fight started… it could easily have gone differently.
[[You’d managed to spot your attackers pulling out their weapons, just in time to avoid their opening volley.|prlg05a][$vig += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Vigilance//]<<endif>>
[[Though you were just as taken by surprise as Enarra, your reflexes had been good enough to allow you to dodge out of the way.|prlg05b][$agi += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Agility//]<<endif>>
[[It was pure luck that you’d managed to avoid getting hit. Or maybe divine intervention.|prlg05c][$faith += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith//]<<endif>>You’ve got pretty good eyes - so does Enarra, of course, but he’s a sniper by trade, and most in his element when he’s //watching// for trouble. Like many thym’ani, he can be easily distractible when he’s not ‘in the zone’; a second pair of eyes might seem like an unfair advantage to some people, but the huge amount of extra information that they transmit to the brain is evidently a lot to process.
You, on the other hand, spent a considerable amount of time in training honing your senses (not just sight, but hearing and smell as well). It wasn’t the most glamorous path you could have taken in developing your abilities, and required a lot of focus while not providing many tangible feelings of progress, but right now the lack of bullets in you makes you think that it probably paid off.
It’s part of why the two of you were assigned to work together, along with any other reasons… your skills complement each other.
Regardless, though, you’d find it hard to say that Enarra had dropped the ball in this instance. Anybody, whether thym’ani or not, would probably have been distracted while trying to sort out an argument between multiple crying children, as he had been doing at the time when the first shots were fired.
[[Amazingly, none of them had been hurt…|prlg06]]You’re pretty light on your feet, thanks in no small part to your training. Gymnastics, flexibility, climbing, balancing, several competitive sports and even dance had all been part of the regimen used to improve your reflexes and physical agility. You hadn’t exactly kept up with it all since passing your final exams, but muscle memory and a lot of practice at dodging your way through various deadly situations since then had helped to keep you sharp.
Your old instructors might have found you somewhat less than elegant this time, as you abruptly hurled yourself out of your attackers’ lines of sight, but it’s the not getting shot part that counts for the most, in the end.
You’d called out for Enarra to take cover, of course, but it had been a fairly unfortunate situation to be caught in. In the middle of a crowded market, in between several stalls… the odds were stacked against him, even leaving aside the fact that he’d been busy helping a few of the local children sort out a problem they were having.
[[Amazingly, none of them had been hurt…|prlg06]]The whole thing had happened at a speed that made it hard to analyse after the fact. Out of nowhere, guns had been fired, and your instincts had kicked into high gear as you immediately made to defend yourself and the nearby civilians. Why they had missed you or if they had even shot at you at all were questions that you didn’t have the omniscience to know the answers to.
Maybe they’d looked at you and Enarra and concluded that the man with the giant anti-materiel rifle strapped to his back was the bigger threat, or maybe luck had conspired to arrange things so that they just hadn’t seen you.
Of course, when you work in the church like you do, the line between chance and providence can be hard to define.
You could spend hours examining the situation; perhaps Enarra, who had been in the middle of resolving an argument between several crying children, had //had// to be shot, so that the children wouldn’t be, and perhaps you had //had// to not be shot so that you could subdue the attackers quickly. The will of the gods can move both mighty mountains, and small flickers in the eye of a gunman.
You suppose you’ll never truly know the answer as to what happened, but you have faith that it was for the best either way. And you know that Enarra, if he’d been given the choice, would rather take the bullets himself than risk the lives of the children he’d been speaking to.
[[Amazingly, none of them had been hurt…|prlg06]]<<if $codex102 neq true>><<run memorize('codex102', true)>><<set $codex102 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Empress Sorivinia Anghelescu <</notify>><<endif>>\
Their parents had been very grateful - enough to cause a fuss and get you noticed by a few of the city’s elite. You’re used to it to a certain degree of course; it comes with the job territory, particularly when you’re good at it. But usually people pass their praise on to your superiors in the church, rather than directly to your face.
One of your admirers in particular, a richly-dressed thym’ani in a charmingly rumpled three-piece suit, had invited the two of you to attend the opening ambassadorial dinner with Empress Sorivinia that was taking place tonight. You’re not sure whether they had thought that the two of you would be good at diplomacy, or whether your presence would make the empress think that Badjawarrah was well-defended and not an easy target, but you’d given it thorough consideration at the time.
So much of your work had centred around humanitarian efforts in the Wolven Empire this past six months… you’d only just gotten back, in fact. The idea that you could make your job easier by tackling the problem directly at the source had been incredibly tempting - but then again, you and Enarra might not exactly be the team best-suited for diplomacy in this particular matter. The two of you do //very specialised// work for the church, and it’s work that Empress Sorivinia might not care for.
You’d rather not cause a diplomatic incident just by being in town, if you can at all avoid it.
On the other hand, of the two of you, Enarra, as the sniper, is the less recognisable, and it had seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up, sending him to the dinner when he couldn’t go out on patrol. If there //were// any rumours twisting through the Empire about the two of you - it’s hard to tell, especially when you don’t get to interact with the populace much - they’d be about your duo together, and Enarra alone probably wouldn’t ring any warning bells for the empress or anyone in her entourage.
Hopefully.
It did rather unavoidably mean that you had been unable to attend the dinner alongside him, though. He’d been grumbling about having to “schmooze with the bigwigs without backup” all day.
[[You can take or leave the social side of things, but there’s always so much valuable information to be gathered at these kinds of events.|prlg07a][$cun += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Cunning//]<<endif>>
[[You’re not a huge fan of fancy high society parties; it’s all a bit manipulative and theatrical for your tastes. Too many lies and promises no one intends to keep.|prlg07b][$honesty += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Honesty//]<<endif>>
[[You’re a bit jealous of Enarra, actually… you LIKE to schmooze.|prlg07c][$prs += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Presence//]<<endif>>You don’t get a whole lot of opportunities these days, not since everything went belly-up in the Empire, but you know from experience that you can find out a whole range of things that people probably don’t want discovered at these kinds of dinners. Something about the veneer of civility and liberal provision of alcohol tends to make people give things away - though of course, your sharp mind and eye for secrets probably has something to do with it as well.
Your job necessitates that you travel around a lot, and often a party like the one Enarra is at right now is an excellent way to get a finger on the pulse of whatever you might have been sent somewhere to investigate. Whether it affects them or not, the upper echelons of society like to be aware of what’s going on below them, most likely due to fear of the issue spreading upwards.
It’s more true of some places than others, of course. But right now, given the current climate… you hope that Enarra can find out a few things about what’s going on in the empress’ head in your absence.
He doesn’t particularly share your proclivity for ferreting out secrets, but he’s not exactly a slouch in that department either - and at the very least you don’t have to worry about him being too preoccupied with partying to find anything out. Parties and Enarra do not easily mix. He’d probably be all too eager to abandon the ambassadorial dinner and come help you on your patrol tonight, whether or not it would be a good idea.
If one of you can be in a room with Empress Sorivinia for any reason, though, it feels like you should seize the opportunity.
[[Let’s hope it pays off…|prlg08]]You attend them nonetheless, occasionally; it’s a part of the job, like many other parts of the job that you’d prefer to be able to avoid. Sometimes people want to gain your church’s opinion on certain matters, sometimes they think that you will add a stabilising element to the event, and sometimes the party itself is being thrown in your honour.
You tend to find all of these options equally taxing, and Enarra feels pretty much the same way. For some probably unknowable reason, people continue to invite you both.
While Enarra is most offput by the seeming abandonment of boundaries, with people thinking that his attendance is an invitation to ask personal questions that he isn’t ready to answer, you yourself are most offended by the dishonest nature of the whole thing. Even when the party is being thrown for you - //especially// when the party is being thrown for you - your attendance is never actually //about// any of your deeds.
They invite you as a show of status, to parade the pretty new bauble in their collection, but they pretend that it’s about something else. Maybe you’d be more willing to go if they were actually honest about it; it’s hard to say, since it’s unlikely it’ll ever happen. Then you add in all the lies that the socialites tell each other, and it becomes a distasteful cesspool.
As it is, the whole thing makes you bristle with indignation on principle, and you feel like all of the verbal fencing people will no doubt be doing with the empress would be absolutely unbearable to sit through if you had the misfortune to be there.
[[You just hope that Enarra can get something out of attending…|prlg08]]If he wasn’t injured, and there was no danger of you being recognised, you’d absolutely love to swap places with him right now. How many chances does one get to converse with an empress over dinner?
Sure, she seems like she might not be the most… pleasant of people, but that’s what being charming is for! Think of all the terrible positions she’s taken that you could try to convince her to walk back on! All the things that she might not know that you could casually tell her about! You could actually make a difference!
Well, you //could//. You can’t guarantee it, of course… but the possibility is always there.
Enarra, you know, is unlikely to be making much of an effort towards that sort of thing - mostly because it’s probably quite unwise. The actual diplomats who will be there likely have a very strict set of topics to avoid, to make sure that things don’t become heated, and he’s not exactly one to break rules just because they’re there. Not to mention he often finds these kinds of parties uncomfortably personal, not liking to volunteer a lot of information about himself until he knows people quite well.
You feel like sometimes positive change calls for a nice, bold schmoozing, though. Who knows what good could come of it, if you were given the chance?
But you can grit your teeth and bear it, despite your envy. If tonight goes well, even if only because nobody rocks any boats, it could lead to more diplomatic visits from Empress Sorivinia in the future, which can only lead to more opportunities.
[[Hopefully your chance to attend dinner with the empress will come someday…|prlg08]]You let your feet carry you onwards, going through the motions of a duty that you’ve performed a thousand times before, aiming to keep the streets safe with your presence. You walk from one end of the city to the other, circling through the outer limits and then working your way back through the centre of town.
Eventually, you stop at the end of the wide thoroughfare that forms the main street, having found or sensed nothing that would explain your creeping feeling of unease. The full moon gleams feebly in the sky above you, its light shrouded by layers of cloud and fog, while the damp air clings to your skin, clammy and cold. The soles of your boots squelch, having taken in enough water from the slick pavement to become soaked through.
You find yourself wishing that you had worn your more sturdy travel gear, but it had seemed like a waste in such a bustling city. This kind of weather isn’t exactly normal for this time of year in Badjawarrah, after all.
Maybe it’s just the unseasonal cold that’s getting to you. But somehow it doesn’t feel like it.
You sigh, weighing up your options. You could return to your accommodations without having found anything, and probably toss and turn all night until Enarra comes back. Or you could wander around a little more until the dinner ends, and go and find him yourself then. The latter certainly feels less stagnant than the former, even if they both achieve roughly the same end.
Perhaps you should give up on projecting the appearance of a regular patrol, though, and just try and find somewhere to sit with your thoughts for a bit. Dutiful as what you’re currently doing might be, it doesn’t exactly seem to be helping solve your problem.
Besides… it might also be safer than hunting down trouble on your own. And less wet.
[[Explore the nearby botanical gardens.|prlg09a]]
[[Walk down to the sea.|prlg09b]]
[[Climb to the top of the Astronomer’s Needle.|prlg09c]]
[[Find your way to the town square.|prlg09d]]The carefully-tended gardens are not too far away - you passed by them on your way here - and contain many benches for you to sit on and contemplate things in the midst of nature. They’re closed to the public at this hour of the day, of course, but you technically have free rein to go wherever you want in the city, and it’s not as if you’d be doing anything untoward in there, so why not?
Maybe the scent of flowers and fragrant gum tree bark will help you relax.
The gate is closed, and locked, but there’s enough of a space between it and the tall lilly pilly hedges that make up the fence for you to slip through easily. You cringe momentarily as you brush against the wet, mauve-tipped leaves, but your armour and the layers underneath manage to keep any of the water from getting through to your skin.
You find yourself standing amidst a carpet of grevillea, with flowers the same pinkish-red colour as the lilly pilly leaves. An avenue of ghostly white gum trees leads further into the gardens, their rough, peeling bark looking for all the world like uneven drops of moonlight that have fallen from the sky to slither down the trees’ trunks. You follow the path marked out for you by the gums, passing by floral centrepieces and small ponds, banksias and waratahs, and an eerily-shaped kangaroo paw bush that looks like the silhouette of some grasping tendril monster in the near-dark.
It’s beautiful, and just as peaceful as you were hoping for.
[[You should come back and visit again during daylight hours sometime.|prlg09a1]]You can taste the distant tang of saltwater on the air, even from here. Badjawarrah’s economy is, of course, tied closely to the ocean, but you know that many of the people who live here see it as more than that. The sea is their recreation, their refuge during the summer heat, and their inspiration for art and progress.
You might not be from here, but you definitely understand the sentiment. The thought of standing on the shoreline and listening to the waves seems like the most peaceful thing that you can think of right now.
You make your way through the city, following the smell of the ocean, until the neatly-cobbled streets turn into a rickety wooden boardwalk that zigzags through the swampy mangrove estuary before heading down towards the sandy edges of the beach. A thousand tiny living things croak and chirrup in the wet dark under the tall red mangroves, but you tune them all out, focussing on the nearby pulsing roar of the sea.
The wet sand is crisp under your boots, bone-white in the full moon’s light. It’s the first time you’ve seen any stretch of the beach here fully deserted - though the distant glow of firelight on the horizon seems to indicate that there may be parties of people further west of where you’re standing. You don’t particularly see any point in seeking them out, though. You came here to think, after all.
You stand there motionless for a few minutes, doing nothing but observing the rhythmic majesty of the crashing waves.
[[You could stand here for hours…|prlg09b1]]<<if $codex203 neq true>><<run memorize('codex203', true)>><<set $codex203 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Astronomy<</notify>><<endif>>\
The tower is one of the few things in town that is sure to still be open - what with its primary function being a night-time activity and all. You don’t know how many astronomers will be up there on this particular night instead of partying, but you’re perfectly capable of looking at the stars on your own.
From what you’ve seen over your time in Badjawarrah, the Needle sees a decent amount of traffic, despite being on the outskirts of town; they take their astronomy seriously, in this part of the world. The guides at the top can tell you the names of more constellations than you can count, ten times as many as you could name yourself: like most people, you can pick out the Emu in the Sky, the Canoe, the Seven Sisters, and perhaps the Crow and his wife on a clear night, but there are vast charts in the observatory documenting up to a hundred more.
Sometimes, just being able to get an uninterrupted view of them all is all you need, though.
The guards at the base of the tower nod phlegmatically at you as you pass, the same as they would do on any other night. You start the long climb up the interior stairs, wondering if they’re annoyed at not being able to attend any of the festivities… but then again, it’s likely a well-paid position, and the tower probably could have been closed for the night if enough of the guards had insisted on it.
When you reach the top at last, you ignore all of the information posted inside and walk straight out onto the balcony, interested only in the cold night sky.
[[The stars shine bright, even through the clouds.|prlg09c1]]While you most likely won’t be able to join in any of the festivities - the automatic respect that your armour would afford you would almost certainly make the atmosphere turn overly formal if you tried - there’s nothing stopping you from watching other people enjoy themselves. Lurking on the fringes… always standing on the outside looking in on regular life… it’s a familiar concept to you, by now.
Though it’s a depressing thought, you don’t know if you’re really capable of finding an alternative; after all, you could have simply come to one of the parties tonight by yourself while Enarra was at the ambassadorial dinner. But no, you had consciously made the choice to go on patrol instead.
…maybe you should work on that.
You march dutifully through the streets, ignoring your own ruminations and following the sounds of people partying, muffled as they are by the thickening curtain of fog.
The whole central square of Badjawarrah has been turned into an impromptu feast area; dozens of tables are laden with food and drink, locally-grown fruit and imported meats arranged side-by-side for any of the attendees to sample, and yet more tables are laid out for people to sit at and talk. A rough dancefloor has been set out along the right side of the square, beside a dedicated-seeming orchestra, still playing even at this time of night, and many people are taking up their invitation to dance.
The party has somehow managed not to turn rowdy despite the late hour, but you suppose the unobtrusive local wardens stationed around the edges of the square may have something to do with that.
A few of them nod stoically at you as you pass, a nod borne of understanding: they, like you, are stationed on the outside of the party looking in.
[[Not that you’re here in any official capacity, of course…|prlg09d1]]<<set $codex103 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Dassine ult Sidi<</notify>>\
You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk, trying to keep a brisker pace than usual as the air turns even colder than before. You briefly wonder, as you try to wipe some of the chilly condensation off your face, if Enarra is having a better night than you… but given his feelings about social events, you really doubt it.
At least you didn’t get shot, you suppose.
You pull yourself up to your full height when you spot a group of people coming towards you from the opposite end of the alley you’re in. Given the odd feeling you’ve been dealing with all night, you can’t blame yourself for feeling wary suddenly, but you quickly relax when you realise that it’s just <<if visited ("prlg09d") > 0>>a few more of<<else>>a group of<<endif>> Badjawarrah’s wardens.
There’s about half a dozen of them, clumped together to fit into the small alleyway. You stand aside to let them walk past - it’s their turf, after all.
Just as they’re about to pass by, the one that seems to be their leader holds up a single slender hand, calling for a halt; looking more closely, you realise that you’ve met her before, briefly, when you were investigating the people who had attacked you and Enarra. She’s from out of town, just like the two of you: her name is Dassine ult Sidi, the Judicar of the whole region.
“Well met, Judicar,” you greet her, inclining your head politely, and she returns the gesture.
She’s dressed a little more warmly for the weather than you are, wrapped in a swath of indigo-coloured robes, but you can hear the jingling of mail rings underneath her loose outer layers as she moves as well, so you doubt she’s out here at this time of night on a social call. The steel plates of armour on her shoulders and upper arms, and the array of blunt weapons strapped to her person, reinforce that idea.
She looks you up and down for a moment, chewing on her lip, and eventually seems to come to some kind of decision, fixing her gaze on your face.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
You startle slightly at her words, not exactly sure how to feel; foremost on the list of emotions clamouring to be heard in your head right now definitely seems to be relief that you’re not imagining things, though.
“I couldn’t tell you what ‘//it//’ is, exactly, but… yes. I do.”
[[You don’t know whether you should be more worried now or less…|prlg10a]]<<if $codex208 neq true>><<run memorize('codex208', true)>><<set $codex208 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Telepathy<</notify>><<endif>>\
//I NEED YOUR AID. PLEASE.//
You jolt to a halt immediately, hand instinctively reaching for your weapon. You swivel back and forth in what probably seems like a highly undignified manner, looking for the source of the voice you had just heard… but you don’t see anybody.
Maybe you just imagined it?
//PLEASE. ''HURRY!''//
Without any conscious input on your part, you begin running. By the time you’ve crossed the square you had been standing in and barrelled through an alleyway, footsteps crashing more than loudly enough to wake up anyone unfortunate enough to be sleeping nearby, you find yourself wondering exactly where you’re going.
Somehow, your body seems to know the answer. You wonder if that should concern you… but something about the undertones of terror you could hear in the voice calling out to you seems to override any caution you might otherwise have felt. You’re almost positive that it wasn’t words spoken out loud - not least because you’ve easily sprinted further now than any distance anyone could shout across and be heard clearly - so maybe that’s how you seem to have some idea of where to go. Thoughts can contain a lot more information than they seem to on the surface, especially if the telepath sending them is skilled.
A grim fear seizes you at that realisation, and you redouble your efforts, barely pausing in your stride to leap over a small wall and crash through somebody’s garden, the clock finishing its signalling of midnight somewhere behind you.
It must be Dassine.
Technically you suppose it could be any of the wardens, as telepathy isn’t uncommon in their ranks… but given the relative inexperience of the others that had been with her, she certainly seems like the most likely candidate. And anything that can put a Judicar in //that// state of fear is nothing to sneeze at.
You grit your teeth, put your head down, and //run//, wishing you hadn’t had the time to get so far away.
[[At least the direction you’re heading in is likely to be relatively clear of civilians…|prlg12]]You bolt round a corner mindlessly, still following directions that you can’t consciously access. Suddenly, you skid to a stop on the slippery cobblestones, your lungs burning, and stand stock still for a moment while your brain catches up on processing what your eyes are looking at.
Bodies. Bodies in //armour.//
They seem to be wardens, though you can’t tell for sure if they’re from Dassine’s party or not.
There are at least four of them across the street from you, scattered haphazardly under the garish orange glow of a streetlamp. You practically float across the rest of the distance between you and them, barely cognizant of your movement, but you can tell already that you got here too late. They’re all dead.
<<if visited ("prlg09a") > 0>>
You know they are, because they’re burning. The frontage of the building behind them is covered in scorchmarks, but the flames obviously couldn’t find the kind of purchase on the damp brickwork that they did on the poor wardens. You can tell from a glance that you’re not going to have any luck trying to identify them by their faces, but you can at least glean from a quick visual inventory of their armour that none of them is Dassine.
<<if $cun eq 12>>
You frown briefly, looking critically at the scene before you. The way they’re lying is random, but not particularly chaotic. They look like they could all have just been knocked down by a powerful wind. But fire has a tendency to make people flail and panic… and run around in an attempt to put it out.
These wardens were dead before they hit the ground. What could even do that?
<<endif>>
You wonder grimly how it is that the fire is still smouldering so cheerfully in the wet. Some kind of oil, maybe?
<<elseif visited ("prlg09b") > 0>>
You know they are, because they’ve been torn apart. It looks like the aftermath of an explosion; you’re regretfully familiar with the sight after your time in the Empire. You don’t understand how you could have missed hearing it, but their injuries, and the various pieces of metal shrapnel scattered around the street, confirm your suspicions. It would be difficult enough to identify the victims by sight even if you knew them particularly well… though an inspection of what remains doesn’t reveal any armour that looks like Dassine’s, at least.
<<if $cun eq 12>>
You frown briefly, looking critically at the scene before you. Aside from the question of how you managed not to hear the explosion, you also find yourself wondering how a group of wardens could be taken by surprise either by someone with a bomb or one that had been left lying around - especially since as locals they would have a much better idea of what was out of the ordinary for Badjawarrah than you.
<<endif>>
You wonder grimly if this was an ambush, a deliberate attempt to keep the wardens from investigating something. People don’t set off bombs on the street for no reason…
<<elseif visited ("prlg09c") > 0>>
You know they are, because there’s too much blood on the ground underneath them for them not to be. You see a variety of different wounds, including a scattering of what looks like grapeshot and several long slashes as if from a sabre or some such, but every one of them has also had their throat slit. Whatever scuffle took place here, the victors made sure to leave none of the wardens in any state where they could be saved.
They’re all young… practically children. Dassine isn’t among them - so the odds are that she’s still alive, at least.
<<if $cun eq 12>>
You frown briefly, looking critically at the scene before you. Though there are a few defensive wounds here and there, you get the impression that they were taken by surprise. The gunshot wounds are mostly concentrated on the wardens’ backs, and some of them don’t even seem to have had time to draw weapons. Whoever did this was skilled… professional, perhaps.
<<endif>>
You wonder grimly if this was an ambush, a deliberate attempt to keep the wardens from investigating something. People don’t usually target wardens for no reason…
<<else>>
You know they are, because alive people don’t have holes like that. There’s only one type of weapon that punches right through flesh and leaves smoking cauterised holes like these… the perpetrators must have used laser weapons, which narrows down your list of suspects pretty neatly to just thym’ani.
Looking at what remains of the wardens’ faces, you don’t see Dassine among their number. She must still be out there, somewhere.
<<if $cun eq 12>>
You frown briefly, looking critically at the scene before you. Though there are a few defensive wounds here and there, you largely get the impression that they were taken by surprise. Several lie on their stomachs, having been shot from behind, and most of them don’t even seem to have had time to draw weapons. Whoever did this acted fast… and probably had quite a few friends.
<<endif>>
You wonder grimly if this was an ambush, a deliberate attempt to keep the wardens from investigating something. People don’t usually target wardens for no reason…
<<endif>>
You also wonder if this was supposed to be your and Enarra’s fates, too. It doesn’t seem like much of a stretch to conclude that the group that attacked you might also be behind this. You just wish you knew what they //wanted.//
Without warning, one of the shadows among the many cast by the shrouded outline of the full moon shifts slightly along the wall in front of you, catching your attention. You swing around abruptly to find what’s casting it, and see them immediately: a hooded figure standing on the rooftop of the building opposite you, a rifle in their hands.
[[They’re watching you.|prlg12a]]Attracting attention on the battlefield is something of a forte of yours - it’s at least partially why you and Enarra were assigned to work together. When your partner is a sniper, making sure that the enemy is looking anywhere but at him is how you turn any number of bad situations in your favour. Of course, you don’t have Enarra to back you up right now… but if Dassine is still alive in there, you’re confident that she’ll be able to take advantage of your attempts at distraction.
And anyway, what other choice do you have?
<<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>
You cautiously take hold of the doorknob, hoping to keep your presence hidden for as long as possible. It squeaks a little bit as you turn it, but the voices that you can hear don’t seem to break from their chanting. You’re not sure whether you consider that to be a good sign or a bad one for the safety of Dassine and any other wardens who may be down there.
The door swings open towards you soundlessly, revealing what looks like a well-used staircase leading down.
The voices that you can hear are coming from a room off to the right of the bottom of the stairs; the door down there appears to be open already. You can’t see into the room properly from up here because of the angle, but the flickering of firelight playing across the wall is enough to illuminate the solid stone floor.
<<else>>
You slam into the door again, grunting. The wood splinters, but the door holds, even if only just. You think maybe you can hear voices on the other side, but they don’t seem to be crying out in alarm, so you can’t tell if they’re aware of your attempts to enter. You could be mistaken… but you think they might be //chanting.//
That’s never a good sign, in your experience.
You take a deep breath, and ram the door again. This time the wood gives, ripping the lock free from the doorframe to clatter on the stone floor. You leap inside, weapon at the ready, but it seems there’s nothing inside this particular room but a few piles of boxes. The voices that you could hear - yep, they’re definitely chanting - are coming from behind another door across the room.
<<endif>>
You’re fairly sure that the dark stains visible on the threshold are blood.
On most days you’d probably be more cautious than this… but then again, on most days you don’t see nearly half a dozen wardens murdered for no apparent reason. If you’re going to save any of the others, you have to act //now.//
You <<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>clamber down the stairs, dreading what you’ll find at the bottom<<else>>kick the door open, dreading what you’ll find inside.<<endif>>
[[And then, suddenly, everything goes black.|ch1tc]]No one ever accused you of being subtle, at least not in a fight. It’s part of why you and Enarra were assigned to work together - and also a big part of why the two of you were sent to the frontlines of the conflict in the Empire. Enarra’s rifle will take the engine out of a clockwork tank with one shot, and you tend to enact the equivalent effect on unit commanders if you can find them. Of course, you don’t have Enarra to back you up right now, but the old adage still holds true: when you cut the head off a snake, the body dies.
And anyway, what other choice do you have?
<<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>
You cautiously take hold of the doorknob, hoping to keep your presence hidden for as long as possible. It squeaks a little bit as you turn it, but the voices that you can hear don’t seem to break from their chanting. You’re not sure whether you consider that to be a good sign or a bad one for the safety of Dassine and any other wardens who may be down there.
The door swings open towards you soundlessly, revealing what looks like a well-used staircase leading down.
The voices that you can hear are coming from a room off to the right of the bottom of the stairs; the door down there appears to be open already. You can’t see into the room properly from up here because of the angle, but the flickering of firelight playing across the wall is enough to illuminate the solid stone floor.
<<else>>
You slam into the door again, grunting. The wood splinters, but the door holds, even if only just. You think maybe you can hear voices on the other side, but they don’t seem to be crying out in alarm, so you can’t tell if they’re aware of your attempts to enter. You could be mistaken… but you think they might be //chanting.//
That’s never a good sign, in your experience.
You take a deep breath, and ram the door again. This time the wood gives, ripping the lock free from the doorframe to clatter on the stone floor. You leap inside, weapon at the ready, but it seems there’s nothing inside this particular room but a few piles of boxes. The voices that you could hear - yep, they’re definitely chanting - are coming from behind another door across the room.
<<endif>>
You’re fairly sure that the dark stains visible on the threshold are blood.
On most days you’d probably be more cautious than this… but then again, on most days you don’t see nearly half a dozen wardens murdered for no apparent reason. If you’re going to save any of the others, you have to act //now.//
You <<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>clamber down the stairs, dreading what you’ll find at the bottom<<else>>kick the door open, dreading what you’ll find inside.<<endif>>
[[And then, suddenly, everything goes black.|ch1tc]]You do your best work when your enemies don’t see you coming - it’s at least partially why you and Enarra were assigned to work together. Between your utilisation of stealth ambush tactics, and the absurd range on his sniper rifle, your foes are often left wondering who they’re even fighting. Of course, you don’t have Enarra to back you up right now, but you’d still much rather get the drop on anyone skilled enough to be a threat to a Judicar like Dassine.
And anyway, what other choice do you have?
<<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>
You cautiously take hold of the doorknob, hoping to keep your presence hidden for as long as possible. It squeaks a little bit as you turn it, but the voices that you can hear don’t seem to break from their chanting. You’re not sure whether you consider that to be a good sign or a bad one for the safety of Dassine and any other wardens who may be down there.
The door swings open towards you soundlessly, revealing what looks like a well-used staircase leading down.
The voices that you can hear are coming from a room off to the right of the bottom of the stairs; the door down there appears to be open already. You can’t see into the room properly from up here because of the angle, but the flickering of firelight playing across the wall is enough to illuminate the solid stone floor.
<<else>>
You slam into the door again, grunting. The wood splinters, but the door holds, even if only just. You think maybe you can hear voices on the other side, but they don’t seem to be crying out in alarm, so you can’t tell if they’re aware of your attempts to enter. You could be mistaken… but you think they might be //chanting.//
That’s never a good sign, in your experience.
You take a deep breath, and ram the door again. This time the wood gives, ripping the lock free from the doorframe to clatter on the stone floor. You leap inside, weapon at the ready, but it seems there’s nothing inside this particular room but a few piles of boxes. The voices that you could hear - yep, they’re definitely chanting - are coming from behind another door across the room.
<<endif>>
You’re fairly sure that the dark stains visible on the threshold are blood.
On most days you’d probably be more cautious than this… but then again, on most days you don’t see nearly half a dozen wardens murdered for no apparent reason. If you’re going to save any of the others, you have to act //now.//
You <<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>clamber down the stairs, dreading what you’ll find at the bottom<<else>>kick the door open, dreading what you’ll find inside.<<endif>>
[[And then, suddenly, everything goes black.|ch1tc]]Having the high ground doesn’t automatically mean that you’ll win, of course, but when you know how to exploit it, you can use it to make your enemies hurt. And you //do// know how to use it - it’s at least partially why you and Enarra were assigned to work together. When your partner is a sniper, engagements with the enemy can very rapidly turn into an extremely high-stakes game of Ruler of the Hill, so being able to make them regret playing is a good skillset to have. Of course, you don’t have Enarra to back you up right now, but you can do worse in a battle than using your skills to exploit vertical space.
And anyway, what other choice do you have?
<<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>
You cautiously take hold of the doorknob, hoping to keep your presence hidden for as long as possible. It squeaks a little bit as you turn it, but the voices that you can hear don’t seem to break from their chanting. You’re not sure whether you consider that to be a good sign or a bad one for the safety of Dassine and any other wardens who may be down there.
The door swings open towards you soundlessly, revealing what looks like a well-used staircase leading down.
The voices that you can hear are coming from a room off to the right of the bottom of the stairs; the door down there appears to be open already. You can’t see into the room properly from up here because of the angle, but the flickering of firelight playing across the wall is enough to illuminate the solid stone floor.
<<else>>
You slam into the door again, grunting. The wood splinters, but the door holds, even if only just. You think maybe you can hear voices on the other side, but they don’t seem to be crying out in alarm, so you can’t tell if they’re aware of your attempts to enter. You could be mistaken… but you think they might be //chanting.//
That’s never a good sign, in your experience.
You take a deep breath, and ram the door again. This time the wood gives, ripping the lock free from the doorframe to clatter on the stone floor. You leap inside, weapon at the ready, but it seems there’s nothing inside this particular room but a few piles of boxes. The voices that you could hear - yep, they’re definitely chanting - are coming from behind another door across the room.
<<endif>>
You’re fairly sure that the dark stains visible on the threshold are blood.
On most days you’d probably be more cautious than this… but then again, on most days you don’t see nearly half a dozen wardens murdered for no apparent reason. If you’re going to save any of the others, you have to act //now.//
You <<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>clamber down the stairs, dreading what you’ll find at the bottom<<else>>kick the door open, dreading what you’ll find inside.<<endif>>
[[And then, suddenly, everything goes black.|ch1tc]]It’s one of the most universally accepted truths concerning battle that numbers will win out over many other factors given half a chance. It’s why the church assigns people to work in pairs or small groups instead of sending them out on their own. It can be tough with a sniper like Enarra for a partner, but you excel at bringing out the best in your allies, watching their backs and keeping them fighting. Of course, you don’t have Enarra to back you up right now, but Dassine and a few other wardens are most likely down there; you’re not alone.
And anyway, what other choice do you have?
<<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>
You cautiously take hold of the doorknob, hoping to keep your presence hidden for as long as possible. It squeaks a little bit as you turn it, but the voices that you can hear don’t seem to break from their chanting. You’re not sure whether you consider that to be a good sign or a bad one for the safety of Dassine and any other wardens who may be down there.
The door swings open towards you soundlessly, revealing what looks like a well-used staircase leading down.
The voices that you can hear are coming from a room off to the right of the bottom of the stairs; the door down there appears to be open already. You can’t see into the room properly from up here because of the angle, but the flickering of firelight playing across the wall is enough to illuminate the solid stone floor.
<<else>>
You slam into the door again, grunting. The wood splinters, but the door holds, even if only just. You think maybe you can hear voices on the other side, but they don’t seem to be crying out in alarm, so you can’t tell if they’re aware of your attempts to enter. You could be mistaken… but you think they might be //chanting.//
That’s never a good sign, in your experience.
You take a deep breath, and ram the door again. This time the wood gives, ripping the lock free from the doorframe to clatter on the stone floor. You leap inside, weapon at the ready, but it seems there’s nothing inside this particular room but a few piles of boxes. The voices that you could hear - yep, they’re definitely chanting - are coming from behind another door across the room.
<<endif>>
You’re fairly sure that the dark stains visible on the threshold are blood.
On most days you’d probably be more cautious than this… but then again, on most days you don’t see nearly half a dozen wardens murdered for no apparent reason. If you’re going to save any of the others, you have to act //now.//
You <<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>clamber down the stairs, dreading what you’ll find at the bottom<<else>>kick the door open, dreading what you’ll find inside.<<endif>>
[[And then, suddenly, everything goes black.|ch1tc]]When you know how to set your enemies up, knocking them down becomes infinitely easier. And you //do// know how - it’s at least partially why you and Enarra were assigned to work together. When your partner is a sniper, and particularly one with a rifle like Enarra has, creating an opening for them to exploit is often all you need to do. Of course, you don’t have Enarra to back you up right now, but you have more than enough practice at making use of the opportunities you create yourself, when you have to.
And anyway, what other choice do you have?
<<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>
You cautiously take hold of the doorknob, hoping to keep your presence hidden for as long as possible. It squeaks a little bit as you turn it, but the voices that you can hear don’t seem to break from their chanting. You’re not sure whether you consider that to be a good sign or a bad one for the safety of Dassine and any other wardens who may be down there.
The door swings open towards you soundlessly, revealing what looks like a well-used staircase leading down.
The voices that you can hear are coming from a room off to the right of the bottom of the stairs; the door down there appears to be open already. You can’t see into the room properly from up here because of the angle, but the flickering of firelight playing across the wall is enough to illuminate the solid stone floor.
<<else>>
You slam into the door again, grunting. The wood splinters, but the door holds, even if only just. You think maybe you can hear voices on the other side, but they don’t seem to be crying out in alarm, so you can’t tell if they’re aware of your attempts to enter. You could be mistaken… but you think they might be //chanting.//
That’s never a good sign, in your experience.
You take a deep breath, and ram the door again. This time the wood gives, ripping the lock free from the doorframe to clatter on the stone floor. You leap inside, weapon at the ready, but it seems there’s nothing inside this particular room but a few piles of boxes. The voices that you could hear - yep, they’re definitely chanting - are coming from behind another door across the room.
<<endif>>
You’re fairly sure that the dark stains visible on the threshold are blood.
On most days you’d probably be more cautious than this… but then again, on most days you don’t see nearly half a dozen wardens murdered for no apparent reason. If you’re going to save any of the others, you have to act //now.//
You <<if visited ("prlg13c") > 0>>clamber down the stairs, dreading what you’ll find at the bottom<<else>>kick the door open, dreading what you’ll find inside.<<endif>>
[[And then, suddenly, everything goes black.|ch1tc]][[Chapter One: The Curtain Rises|ch101]]<<if $codex104 neq true>><<run memorize('codex104', true)>><<set $codex104 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Cults<</notify>><<endif>>\
You shake your head in confusion, and then instantly regret it as a sharp pain shoots through your temples. Gingerly, you ease yourself into a sitting position, leaning against some wooden surface that’s positioned conveniently behind you, and settle in to wait for your head to stop spinning.
//-you scream in frustration, straining against the chains that secure your wrists. Your right hand is sticky and warm, trapped in an expanding pool of blood that threatens to ooze under your clothing and run down your arm. To your left, you hear somebody crying.//
//The cultists’ chanting drones on, heedless of the noise you and the other sacrifices are making. You grit your teeth and struggle harder, determined to break free, but you feel your strength drain away as a figure appears before you. They laugh at your exertions, eyes glowing red in the firelight, and hold up a wicked, serrated knife-//
The scrap of memory fades as abruptly as it arrived, and you clutch your head, feeling nauseated. If this if what you can’t remember, then maybe it’s better to forget. But the image of that knife coming towards your face fills your gut with a terrible sense of fear…
Are you dead? Is that why you can’t remember what happened? Is this… the afterlife? But waking up alone and confused isn’t how the journey to the afterlife is supposed to go… even though you’re not sure why you’re so confident of that fact.
You lower your hands slowly, taking in your surroundings properly for the first time.
[[…where are you?|ch103]]You’re seated - somehow - on the lower deck of a ship, you realise, as you look around. The wooden surface behind you is the bulwark of the port bow, and you appear to have been laid against the inadequate-but-potentially-better-than-nothing pillow of some rolled up sailcloth. Who put you there remains a mystery, however, as there doesn’t appear to be anyone around.
The timbers beneath you are a dull black colour, not as though tarred or singed, but seemingly made from some exotic tree. The similarly-black sails are furled, and though you can feel the gentle rocking of the ship on some body of water, you do not appear to be moving.
//Are we moored somewhere?// you wonder, as you carefully pull yourself to your feet using the bulwark as a handhold. But that question only raises more questions: how did you get onto this ship in the first place? Where //is// here? And how did you escape from… whatever that memory was?
The scenery that awaits you beyond the bow is unlike any you’ve ever seen before. Spindly trees with ghost-white bark, their branches stripped bare of leaves, stretch as far as your eyes can see into the distance, punctuated occasionally by stone statues in bizarre and twisted shapes. The ship itself is afloat on a great river whose waters are so dark as to be even more black than the ship’s timbers.
You start to feel dizzy as you stare at these strange sights, noticing that everything seems to be tinted grey, like you have lost the ability to see in colour somehow. You rub your eyes, hoping the sensation will go away, and then realise that neither the ship nor your own hands have that odd colourless pall, only the alien-looking landscape.
You take a deep breath, trying to decide what to do.
[[Check yourself for injuries.|ch104a]]
[[Call out to see if anyone is around.|ch104b]]
[[Wrack your brains to see if you can remember anything more.|ch104c][$turmoil += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Turmoil//]<<endif>>
[[Look around for something to defend yourself with.|ch104d][$weapon = "club"]]The memory of that awful knife makes you shudder, and you find your hands patting everywhere that hurts, checking for wounds. Luckily - //or perhaps not//, you think, wincing - you don’t seem to be bleeding anywhere that you can see, as everything that aches is just bruised. You might have some broken ribs, judging by the sting, but your legs, arms, jaw, hands and feet all seem to be in working order, which is something at least.
You hear a series of thuds behind you, like something being dropped, and turn in the direction of the prow to see a face appear out from behind a mast.
“You’re finally awake, I see. Well, if you need answers, I’m your man! Within reason, of course.”
The person that the face belongs to emerges fully, grinning at you, and you feel yourself relax a little. He clearly doesn’t seem hostile, despite the rapier on his hip; his posture and expression radiate “amusement” more than anything else.
“Have I been unconscious for a while?” you ask, because it seems like the easiest question right at this moment.
His grin widens, somehow, and you begin to wonder if he has any other facial expressions at all. “Nearly two whole days, by my count - or what passes for day down here, anyway. The captain probably would have had you moved down into the surgery if not for all the others.”
You take a deep, calming breath, telling yourself that he’s probably not deliberately //trying// to be confusing. He might not even know you have amnesia. If there really are others - the people who were chained beside you, maybe? - and they don’t have memory problems, there would be no reason for him to assume you’d be any different.
You inspect him for a moment, taking in his height and the broad set of his shoulders. He has tightly-curled black hair, a wide, flat nose, and a carefully-groomed moustache and goatee, with deep-set eyes that twinkle whenever he smiles. The flowing blouse he wears, and the round golden earring in one ear, make him look like a pirate… which would probably make sense, given where you both are.
He has black skin, you //think// - but you notice upon observing him for a few seconds that he has that same strange greyish pallor that colours the landscape, and it confuses your eyes a little. He also seems slightly blurry, like his body can’t decide if he’s really there or not, and it makes you inspect your own hands again to make sure that you don’t look the same way.
You suddenly realise that you’ve been staring at him in silence for a growing amount of time, and clear your throat awkwardly, wondering where on earth to start.
[[“Have we… met?” you ask him, hoping he can tell you how on earth you got here.|ch105]]You don’t know how you got here, but it must have involved someone bringing you up onto the ship. Part of you wants to be wary, considering the horror of the last thing you can remember, but the undeniable fact remains that you are not exactly restrained here. If your chest didn’t ache at the thought of it, you could jump right over the bow and swim away. The chains from your memory are nowhere to be found. So, odds are that anyone who brought you here is friendly, right?
“Hello?” you call out, your voice hoarse.
You hear a series of thuds behind you, like something being dropped, and turn in the direction of the prow to see a face appear out from behind a mast.
“You’re finally awake, I see. Well, if you need answers, I’m your man! Within reason, of course.”
The person that the face belongs to emerges fully, grinning at you, and you feel yourself relax a little. He clearly doesn’t seem hostile, despite the rapier on his hip; his posture and expression radiate “amusement” more than anything else.
“Have I been unconscious for a while?” you ask, because it seems like the easiest question right at this moment.
His grin widens, somehow, and you begin to wonder if he has any other facial expressions at all. “Nearly two whole days, by my count - or what passes for day down here, anyway. The captain probably would have had you moved down into the surgery if not for all the others.”
You take a deep, calming breath, telling yourself that he’s probably not deliberately //trying// to be confusing. He might not even know you have amnesia. If there really are others - the people who were chained beside you, maybe? - and they don’t have memory problems, there would be no reason for him to assume you’d be any different.
You inspect him for a moment, taking in his height and the broad set of his shoulders. He has tightly-curled black hair, a wide, flat nose, and a carefully-groomed moustache and goatee, with deep-set eyes that twinkle whenever he smiles. The flowing blouse he wears, and the round golden earring in one ear, make him look like a pirate… which would probably make sense, given where you both are.
He has black skin, you //think// - but you notice upon observing him for a few seconds that he has that same strange greyish pallor that colours the landscape, and it confuses your eyes a little. He also seems slightly blurry, like his body can’t decide if he’s really there or not, and it makes you inspect your own hands again to make sure that you don’t look the same way.
You suddenly realise that you’ve been staring at him in silence for a growing amount of time, and clear your throat awkwardly, wondering where on earth to start.
[[“Have we… met?” you ask him, hoping he can tell you how on earth you got here.|ch105]]You purse your lips, irritated. There //has// to be more that you can recall. If that first memory is still there in your head, then you must surely be able to remember everything else, too. You just need to //think//.
You close your eyes, determined, and will the darkness in your mind to produce something. You sit there fruitlessly for a few seconds, and are just about to give up when-
//You feel a terrible sense of vertigo. You try to cry out, but the breath is sucked violently out of your lungs as you plummet downwards, wind howling around you. You scream wordlessly as you plunge down through a fathomless darkness.//
You yelp loudly, your eyes slamming open again, and you have to take a moment to steady yourself, leaning against the bulwark.
You hear a series of thuds behind you, like something being dropped, and turn in the direction of the prow to see a face appear out from behind a mast.
“You’re finally awake, I see. Well, if you need answers, I’m your man! Within reason, of course.”
The person that the face belongs to emerges fully, grinning at you, and you feel yourself relax a little. He clearly doesn’t seem hostile, despite the rapier on his hip; his posture and expression radiate “amusement” more than anything else.
“Have I been unconscious for a while?” you ask, because it seems like the easiest question right at this moment.
His grin widens, somehow, and you begin to wonder if he has any other facial expressions at all. “Nearly two whole days, by my count - or what passes for day down here, anyway. The captain probably would have had you moved down into the surgery if not for all the others.”
You take a deep, calming breath, telling yourself that he’s probably not deliberately //trying// to be confusing. He might not even know you have amnesia. If there really are others - the people who were chained beside you, maybe? - and they don’t have memory problems, there would be no reason for him to assume you’d be any different.
You inspect him for a moment, taking in his height and the broad set of his shoulders. He has tightly-curled black hair, a wide, flat nose, and a carefully-groomed moustache and goatee, with deep-set eyes that twinkle whenever he smiles. The flowing blouse he wears, and the round golden earring in one ear, make him look like a pirate… which would probably make sense, given where you both are.
He has black skin, you //think// - but you notice upon observing him for a few seconds that he has that same strange greyish pallor that colours the landscape, and it confuses your eyes a little. He also seems slightly blurry, like his body can’t decide if he’s really there or not, and it makes you inspect your own hands again to make sure that you don’t look the same way.
You suddenly realise that you’ve been staring at him in silence for a growing amount of time, and clear your throat awkwardly, wondering where on earth to start.
[[“Have we… met?” you ask him, hoping he can tell you how on earth you got here.|ch105]]You have your bearings together enough by now to notice that your weapons and armour are gone. You’re not quite sure how you know that you //should// have weapons and armour, but you seem to feel their absence keenly. You aren’t going to question your instincts at a time like this, especially given what little you can actually remember, so you look around for something that you could potentially arm yourself with.
In amongst the folds of the sailcloth you were lying on, you find a long belaying pin, and heft it in one hand experimentally. It’s not fancy, but if you need to hit somebody with something, it’ll do the job.
You hear a series of thuds behind you, like something being dropped, and turn in the direction of the prow to see a face appear out from behind a mast.
“You’re finally awake, I see. Well, if you need answers, I’m your man! Within reason, of course.”
The person that the face belongs to emerges fully, grinning at you, and you feel yourself relax a little. He clearly doesn’t seem hostile, despite the rapier on his hip; his posture and expression radiate “amusement” more than anything else.
“Have I been unconscious for a while?” you ask, because it seems like the easiest question right at this moment.
His grin widens, somehow, and you begin to wonder if he has any other facial expressions at all. “Nearly two whole days, by my count - or what passes for day down here, anyway. The captain probably would have had you moved down into the surgery if not for all the others.”
You take a deep, calming breath, telling yourself that he’s probably not deliberately //trying// to be confusing. He might not even know you have amnesia. If there really are others - the people who were chained beside you, maybe? - and they don’t have memory problems, there would be no reason for him to assume you’d be any different.
You inspect him for a moment, taking in his height and the broad set of his shoulders. He has tightly-curled black hair, a wide, flat nose, and a carefully-groomed moustache and goatee, with deep-set eyes that twinkle whenever he smiles. The flowing blouse he wears, and the round golden earring in one ear, make him look like a pirate… which would probably make sense, given where you both are.
He has black skin, you //think// - but you notice upon observing him for a few seconds that he has that same strange greyish pallor that colours the landscape, and it confuses your eyes a little. He also seems slightly blurry, like his body can’t decide if he’s really there or not, and it makes you inspect your own hands again to make sure that you don’t look the same way.
You suddenly realise that you’ve been staring at him in silence for a growing amount of time, and clear your throat awkwardly, wondering where on earth to start.
[[“Have we… met?” you ask him, hoping he can tell you how on earth you got here.|ch105]]<<set $pcname to "">>
<<set $famname to "">>
<<set $fullname to "fullname">>
<<set $faction to "faction">>
<<set $deity to "deity">>
<<set $title to "title">>
<<set $class to "class">>
<<set $fightstyle to "fightstyle">>
<<set $role to "role">>
<<set $nation to "nation">>
<<set $race to "race">>
<<set $weapon to "unarmed">>
<<set $melee to "unarmed">>
<<set $armour to 0>>
<<set $frc to 10>>
<<set $end to 10>>
<<set $agi to 10>>
<<set $vig to 10>>
<<set $cun to 10>>
<<set $prs to 10>>
<<set $hit to 10>>
<<set $defence to 10>>
<<set $prof to 3>>
<<set $primarystat to "stat">>
<<set $wound to 0>>
<<set $ourlady to 25>>
<<set $ourladyflirt to 0>>
<<set $vanator to 25>>
<<set $vanatorflirt to 0>>
<<set $namsun to 25>>
<<set $namsunflirt to 0>>
<<set $kebisa to 25>>
<<set $kebisaflirt to 0>>
<<set $annos to 25>>
<<set $annosflirt to 0>>
<<set $tehemia to 25>>
<<set $tehemiaflirt to 0>>
<<set $tehemiaromo to 0>>
<<set $ia to 25>>
<<set $iaflirt to 0>>
<<set $gervaise to 25>>
<<set $gervaiseflirt to 0>>
<<set $bettina to 25>>
<<set $soillere to 25>>
<<set $barthelemy to 25>>
<<set $barthelemyflirt to 0>>
<<set $dassine to 25>>
<<set $luminita to 25>>
<<set $luminitaflirt to 0>>
<<set $enarra to 0>>
<<set $omilitis to 0>>
<<set $lacrima to 0>>
<<set $enfys to 0>>
<<set $giaan to 15>>
<<set $flirt to "">>
<<set $romo to "">>
<<set $statlabel to false>>
<<set $skillcheckexplain to false>>
<<set $unselectableexplain to false>>
<<set $ingametw to false>>
<<set $touchaverse to false>>
<<set $amnesia to false>>
<<set $relationship to "none">>
<<set $flirted to false>>
<<set $polyam to false>>
<<set $ace to false>>
<<set $hair to "haircolour">>
<<set $hairstyle to "hairstyle">>
<<set $hairtexture to "hairtexture">>
<<set $eye to "eyecolour">>
<<set $skin to "skincolour">>
<<set $fhair to "facialhair">>
<<set $clothing to "clothing">>
<<set $room to "room">>
<<set $fur to "none">>
<<set $height to "height">>
<<set $tattoo to "none">>
<<set $wolvenform to false>>
<<set $faith to 50>>
<<set $honesty to 50>>
<<set $decency to 50>>
<<set $turmoil to 50>>
<<set $enarrastatus to "enarrastatus">>
<<set $soillereascend to 5>>
<<set $bettinaascend to 5>>
<<set $barthelemyascend to 5>>
<<set $gervaiseascend to 15>>
<<set $ourladyharden to 25>>
<<set $vturmoil to 40>>
<<set $annosharden to 10>>
<<set $tehemiaopenness to 5>>
<<set $namsunselfcare to 25>>
<<set $kebisasupport to 10>>
<<set $iaconfidence to 15>>
<<set $dassinetrust to 40>>
<<set $luminitatrust to 25>>
<<set $omilitisstatus to "off">>
<<set $lacrimastatus to "lacrimastatus">>
<<set $enfysstatus to "enemies">>
<<set $gender1 to "f">>
<<set $gender2 to "f">>
<<set $gender3 to "f">>
<<set $xhe1 to "she">>
<<set $xhe2 to "she">>
<<set $xhe3 to "she">>
<<set $xir1 to "her">>
<<set $xir2 to "her">>
<<set $xir3 to "her">>
<<set $xirs1 to "her">>
<<set $xirs2 to "her">>
<<set $xirs3 to "her">>
<<set $xim1 to "hers">>
<<set $xim2 to "hers">>
<<set $xim3 to "hers">>
<<set $ximself1 to "herself">>
<<set $ximself2 to "herself">>
<<set $ximself3 to "herself">>
<<set $verb_s1 to "">>
<<set $verb_s2 to "">>
<<set $verb_s3 to "">>
<<set $verb_es1 to "">>
<<set $verb_es2 to "">>
<<set $verb_es3 to "">>
<<set $verb_re1 to "’s">>
<<set $verb_re2 to "’s">>
<<set $verb_re3 to "’s">>
<<set $verb_ve1 to "’s">>
<<set $verb_ve2 to "’s">>
<<set $verb_ve3 to "’s">>
<<set $lady to "lady">>
<<set $woman to "woman">>
<<set $mistress to "mistress">>
<<set $madam to "madam">>
<<set $daughter to "daughter">>
<<set $sister to "sister">>
<<set $them to false>>
<<set $dgender to "f">>
<<set $dxhe to "She">>
<<set $dxir to "Her">>
<<set $dxirs to "Her">>
<<set $dxim to "Hers">>
<<set $dximself to "Herself">>
<<set $mother to "mother">>
<<set $goddess to "goddess">>
<<set $dlady to "lady">>
<<set $familiar to "none">>
<<set $ftype to "none">>
<<set $fname to "none">>
<<set $fgender to "none">>
<<set $fxhe to "she">>
<<set $fxir to "her">>
<<set $fxirs to "her">>
<<set $fxim to "hers">>
<<set $fximself to "herself">>
<<set $girl to "girl">>
<<set $skillcheckpass to 0>>
<<set $vname to "Vanator">>
<<set $olname to "Our Lady">>
<<set $light to "a">>
<<set $mind to "n">>
<<set $blood to "u">>
<<set $dark to "o">>
<<set $destination to "surface">>
<<set $priority to "survival">>
<<set $codex201 to recall('codex201')>>
<<set $codex301 to recall('codex301')>>
<<set $codex202 to recall('codex202')>>
<<set $codex101 to false>>
<<set $codex102 to recall('codex102')>>
<<set $codex203 to recall('codex203')>>
<<set $codex204 to recall('codex204')>>
<<set $codex205 to recall('codex205')>>
<<set $codex206 to recall('codex206')>>
<<set $codex103 to false>>
<<set $codex207 to recall('codex207')>>
<<set $codex208 to recall('codex208')>>
<<set $codex104 to recall('codex104')>>
<<set $codex302 to recall('codex302')>>
<<set $codex303 to recall('codex303')>>
<<set $codex105 to false>>
<<set $codex106 to false>>
<<set $codex304 to recall('codex304')>>
<<set $codex107 to false>>
<<set $codex209 to recall('codex209')>>
<<set $codex108 to recall('codex108')>>
<<set $codex109 to recall('codex109')>>
<<set $codex110 to recall('codex110')>>
<<set $codex111 to recall('codex111')>>
<<set $codex305 to recall('codex305')>>
<<set $codex306 to recall('codex306')>>
<<set $codex307 to recall('codex307')>>
<<set $codex308 to recall('codex308')>>
<<set $codex309 to recall('codex309')>>
<<set $codex310 to recall('codex310')>>
<<set $codex210 to recall('codex210')>>
<<set $codex211 to recall('codex211')>>
<<set $codex212 to recall('codex212')>>
<<set $codex213 to recall('codex213')>>
<<set $codex112 to recall('codex112')>>
<<set $codex113 to recall('codex113')>>
<<set $codex114 to recall('codex114')>>
<<set $codex115 to recall('codex115')>>
<<set $codex214 to recall('codex214')>>
<<set $codex116 to false>>
<<set $codex215 to recall('codex215')>>
<<set $codex117 to false>>
<<set $codex216 to recall('codex216')>>
<<set $codex118 to recall('codex118')>>
<<set $codex119 to false>>
<<set $codex311 to recall('codex311')>>
<<set $codex217 to recall('codex217')>>
<<set $codex218 to false>>
<<set $codex312 to recall('codex312')>>
<<set $codex313 to recall('codex313')>>
<<set $codex314 to recall('codex314')>>
<<set $codex315 to recall('codex315')>>
<<set $codex316 to recall('codex316')>>
<<set $codex317 to recall('codex317')>>
<<set $codex318 to recall('codex318')>>
<<set $codex319 to recall('codex319')>><<if $codex302 neq true>><<run memorize('codex302', true)>><<run memorize('codex303', true)>><<set $codex302 to true>><<set $codex303 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: the Underworld, the Will-o’-wisp<</notify>><<endif>>\
He raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Before just now, you mean? Not that I recall.”
“I don’t remember how I got here,” you admit, slightly embarrassed. “I was hoping you could fill me in.”
He frowns for a moment, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Damn… you too? It seems nobody knows what happened. All I can tell you is that we fished you out of the river, along with four or five others. Our best guess was that you fell through //that//.”
He points directly upwards, and as you follow the direction of his finger, you feel your blood turn to ice. The image of a normal, if grey, sky is shattered by what seems to be a hole cut into it, so high up that you can’t even guess at how big it would be. You watch, dry-mouthed, as a wisp of cloud drifts towards the yawning gap, and rather than being sucked up into the space, disappears, only to reappear on the other side as though the hole wasn’t there at all.
//The sky here is some kind of magical illusion//, you think to yourself, shakily. //That’s certainly new.//
“Where are we?” you ask your companion, tearing your eyes away from the illusory ceiling with difficulty.
He gives you a pointed look, grinning again, and you almost don’t need him to answer. “This is the Underworld, champ. I don’t advise trying to settle down here.”
“You… live here?” you ask him, confused, and he laughs.
“That’s not exactly the word I would use, but yes, more or less. Welcome aboard the //Will-o’-Wisp//! We sailed the high seas in life, and here we are sailing the Black River in death. There are worse ways to spend eternity - probably, anyway.”
[[This is definitely all fine.|ch106]]<<set $codex105 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Soillere Dujardin<</notify>>\
You look around at what you can see of the //Will-o’-Wisp//, noting that it does indeed look old… maybe antique, even. You’re not sure why the ship looks so much more solid than he does, but nothing about what you see gives you any reason to disbelieve him, even though at this point you might almost be looking for one.
As you inspect the aft of the ship, a flash of movement catches your eye, and another person disappears quickly out of sight before you can get a good look at them.
“I’m Soillere, by the way,” your new friend says, drawing your attention back and offering you a hand to shake. “Soillere Dujardin.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>You hesistate for a second before answering. “Uh, I don't shake hands, but pleased to meet you.”
You’re pretty used to deflecting handshakes, but this time you can’t help but blink in confusion at his name.<<else>>You take his hand and shake it, but can’t help but blink in confusion at his name.<<endif>> It sounds antiquated and alien, which you suppose is to be expected of residents of the afterlife. It still might take a bit of getting used to, though.
He gives you a somewhat concerned look, which you can’t really blame him for, and then clears his throat. “I should probably take you to the captain. Unless you have any other questions?”
[[“So… you’re dead, then?”|ch107a]]
[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]His grin returns, doubling in intensity, and you think wryly that dying hasn’t seemed to dim his spirit at all.
“Happens to the best of us,” he jokes, before winking slyly. “And the worst!”
You look around at the //Will-o’-Wisp// again, trying to gauge how old it might be exactly. You’re no historian, at least judging by what you can remember, but some of the ship’s equipment seems outdated by quite a while - more than a century, even. There’s no steam technology, and the capstans look as though they have to be wound by hand. The armaments look like the kind that used to fire //cannonballs//.
Soillere watches you appraising the ship and folds his arms across his chest. “You’re about to say something cruel about my lovely lady, aren’t you?”
There’s a note of huffiness in his voice that makes you feel bad, even if momentarily. “I’m sure she was fearsome… in her day.”
He rolls his eyes, scoffing. “That’s what everyone says. But //heart// is far more important than technology. You live on her for a while and you’ll start to hear her heartbeat in the thrumming of the sails and her breathing in the creaking of the wood. She’s a sweet old girl, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
There’s a passion in his eyes like a dancing flame, enough that you can almost forget that he’s no longer alive. It seems like he’s had this argument before - with other sailors who have been dead for less time than him, perhaps - and the strength of his conviction is both clear and somewhat surprising to you.
“She must be, if this is how you’re choosing to spend your afterlife,” you say, and then wonder if there’s anything that //you// would deliberately choose to do for eternity.
He laughs in response, patting the mast beside him fondly as though it’s an old friend. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
You’re not quite sure what to say as a reply.
[[“You know what they say: do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your afterlife.”|ch107a1][$soillere += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>
[[“I suppose there would be no point to a rewarding afterlife if it didn’t cater to a wide range of different desires.”|ch107a2]]
[[“It seems like quite a sad existence, to be honest. Shouldn’t you be trying to move on?”|ch107a3][$soillere -= 2, $decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>He gives you a strange look that seems to be loaded with a lot of different emotions: sympathy, and pity, mixed with a tinge of envy, perhaps. Maybe even a little wry amusement.
“Look at your hands, and then look at mine,” he tells you, holding out one calloused palm.
Alongside his pallid-looking, almost incorporeal, hand, yours looks alarmingly solid and full of life. You clear your throat in embarrassment, wondering if people down here get that sort of question a lot.
“Sorry,” you say, quickly. “It seems obvious now in retrospect… but I’ve never heard of anyone living journeying to the Underworld before. I thought I’d better make sure.”
He shrugs<<if $soillere >= 25>> genially<<endif>>, retracting his hand in order to hook his thumb through one of his belt loops. “It’s all right. I remember what it was like being alive - distantly, anyway. Everything was uncertain and confusing. I can’t really blame you for having questions.”
You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You think things down here aren’t confusing?”
He laughs<<if $soillere < 25>> somewhat bitterly<<endif>>, waving his free hand towards the hole in the sky. “Well, it wasn’t us that opened that thing up. You brought the confusion down here with you!”
Despite his<<if $soillere < 25>> frustrated attempt at a joke<<else>> joviality<<endif>>, his words sober you. The idea that the hole wasn’t caused by something down here seems to indicate that it was opened by someone //alive//. You don’t even want to //think// about what that could mean.
You look down at your hands once more, opening and closing them a few times as though your brain wants reassurance that they still work properly. They do, of course, and their solidity is a reminder that nothing is over yet. You’re still alive, and with luck you can find a way out of this situation - without ending up joining the crew of this ship.
“Any other pressing questions?” Soillere asks, drawing your attention back to him.
<<if visited ("ch107a") eq 0>>[[“So… you’re dead, then?”|ch107a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Soillere looks over his shoulder in the direction you indicate, seemingly also curious, but the mysterious person is nowhere to be seen anymore.
“The rest of the crew are all around somewhere,” he replies, shrugging, and then frowns for a brief moment. “Although- well, I suppose it might have been Vanator. He’s made himself a bit scarce ever since we came across you lot… I don’t think he likes people very much.”
“He’s not a part of the crew?” you ask, and Soillere grins<<if $soillere < 25>> somewhat ruefully<<endif>> in response.
“You’d know straight away if you got a good look at him. He’s not dead - though he didn’t appear in the river the way you did. We picked him up at a quay temple when we made a supply stop a few months ago.”
You blink at Soillere a few times, your mind full of questions. Quay temple? Someone alive in the Underworld? //Supply stop?// What on earth would the dead need supplies for?
As if in answer to your mental questions, another crew member, washed out and faded-looking just like Soillere, scurries by carrying a stack of rope, and then begins replacing a line that had been tied off against a nearby mast. The ship, it seems, still suffers the regular wear and tear that any vessel in the living world would face; they must need tar and ropes and hammers and nails just like any other crew of sailors. And if there’s one ship still sailing on the rivers of the Underworld, it follows that there could be many, so it makes some degree of sense for there to be ports set up to service them.
Not a //large// degree of sense, but some. You sigh resignedly, thinking that you’ll have to hold on to whatever sense you can grasp down here. It isn’t much, but one answer is at least a start.
“I wonder if this Vanator has any idea what’s going on,” you muse idly, since he seems as likely to be of help as anyone right now.
Soillere shrugs again, not looking all that interested. “If he does, he hasn’t said so… though he’s a reticent one, like I said. You can ask him about it later, if you like. You should still see the captain first, though.”
You nod, filing Soillere’s advice away carefully in your head. It can’t hurt to try, of course, and the idea of any living person in the Underworld is still intriguing, but there are more pressing matters to deal with first.
<<if visited ("ch107a") eq 0>>[[“So… you’re dead, then?”|ch107a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Soillere walks purposefully towards the aft of the ship, weaving nimbly between various pieces of equipment and beneath overhanging lines. You do your best to follow closely in his effortless wake, though your body is not particularly happy with you about it. You duck under a rope and feel a heavy, stabbing twinge in your ribs that makes you regret the movement, a pained hiss escaping from between your lips.
<<if $turmoil > 50>>
Then, straightening up, you sway unsteadily as stars dance in front of your vision. You work hard to get some moisture back into your suddenly dry mouth, struck by the thought of how embarrassing it would be to collapse again just after having woken up. Eventually, after a few deep breaths, you bring yourself nominally back under control. You try to ignore Soillere’s concerned expression as you return to following him.
<<endif>>
You find yourself wondering what kind of medical facilities they have in the afterlife… if any. The cheery thought that you might have to treat your injuries yourself makes you sigh, but you decide you can deal with that later. After everything else also teetering on your growing pile of things to deal with later.
You pass by a few more members of the ship’s crew on your way, but they seem reluctant to meet your eyes, scuttling away under your gaze. You suppose you must be something of a strange sight to them - and perhaps an unwelcome one, depending on how they found their way here. It would surely be hard to be reminded of the living world after a violent death, you muse, watching one crewmember hide behind a staircase as you approach.
On the other hand, you’re not sure what you could be doing differently. If your memories are any indication, you’re not exactly here by choice.
The dark timbers of the //Will-o’-wisp// creak musically beneath your feet as you make your way up to a higher deck, your destination now visible: a tall, black door, covered in ornate scrollwork and swirling carvings, chipped or scorched in a few places from what seems to be battle damage. Soillere knocks twice quickly, barely pausing to wait for an answer, and turns the polished brass handle to open the way into the cabin beyond.
[[Time to meet the captain…|ch109]]Luckily, strength happens to be one of your… well, strengths. It tends to come in handy in your line of work, and not just for fighting. At times like this, a judicial application of force can get you past any number of annoying obstacles.
A quick inspection tells you that the weakest point of the whole apparatus securing the ladder is the hook and peg affixing the chains to the brickwork. You jerk the chains back and forth a bit, and push downwards on them with your foot, trying to ease a bit of slack into the end you’re planning to rip out. That done, you take hold of the chain with both of your hands, brace yourself, and //heave.//
You keep pulling until little dots appear, floating in your vision, and then you wrap the chain more firmly around your dominant hand and pull again.
With a horrific scraping sound, the peg comes whipping out of the bricks, sending you stumbling backwards. Unwilling to waste any time, you quickly free the ladder from the remainder of the chains and let it down. You can’t help but feel slightly smug as you clamber down the ladder, but you try to keep your mind on the task at hand.
After the chains, the locked door into the basement is comparatively simple; it’s just plain wood, after all. Knowing that you’ll probably attract a fair amount of attention doing this, you hold your weapon at the ready and ram your shoulder heavily into the wooden surface. You feel it budge slightly, judging that a few more attempts should be enough to get you inside, and steel yourself, making mental preparations for what’s to come.
[[You’re going to bust in there and command as much attention as possible, to give anyone in danger a chance to flee or hide.|prlg14a][$fightstyle = "tank"]]
[[Your usual strategy is to find whomever looks like the leader and then put them down, hard and fast.|prlg14b][$fightstyle = "assault"]]
[[The element of surprise is your best, most reliable weapon.|prlg14c][$fightstyle = "ambush"]]
[[You prefer to use your environment against your enemies, letting the high ground do some of the work for you.|prlg14d][$fightstyle = "exploit"]]
[[More than anything else, your priority is to help anyone in there who is injured or in danger.|prlg14e][$fightstyle = "support"]]
[[You are adept at controlling the flow of the battlefield to your advantage.|prlg14f][$fightstyle = "cc"]]You’re no stranger to scrapes and bruises - broken bones, even, on a bad day. What your armour doesn’t protect you from, you need to be able to endure. You’d rather not risk injuries if they’re not necessary, of course, but putting your life and body on the line to protect others is literally in your job description.
In this case, as with many others in the past, gravity always knows the quickest way down from somewhere. You do one last quick inspection of what you can see of the floor down there, trying to make sure there’s nothing sharp in your way, and take a deep, steadying breath.
You leap boldly, confident in your ability to walk away from a fall like this. The feeling of freefall isn’t the most pleasant in the world, but it doesn’t last too long. The second you touch the ground, your curl yourself up and roll to lessen the impact on any one part of your body. There’s a few seconds where everything feels a bit like it’s been hit by a sledgehammer, but you grunt and pull yourself to your feet anyway.
Your ankles and knees won’t exactly thank you for this, but depending on what’s going on, Dassine and some of the wardens might do.
The basement access door is made of plain wood, but it is, unfortunately, locked. You’re going to have to force it.
Knowing that you’ll probably attract a fair amount of attention doing this, you hold your weapon at the ready and ram your shoulder heavily into the wooden surface. You feel it budge slightly, judging that a few more attempts should be enough to get you inside, and steel yourself, making mental preparations for what’s to come.
[[You’re going to bust in there and command as much attention as possible, to give anyone in danger a chance to flee or hide.|prlg14a][$fightstyle = "tank"]]
[[Your usual strategy is to find whomever looks like the leader and then put them down, hard and fast.|prlg14b][$fightstyle = "assault"]]
[[The element of surprise is your best, most reliable weapon.|prlg14c][$fightstyle = "ambush"]]
[[You prefer to use your environment against your enemies, letting the high ground do some of the work for you.|prlg14d][$fightstyle = "exploit"]]
[[More than anything else, your priority is to help anyone in there who is injured or in danger.|prlg14e][$fightstyle = "support"]]
[[You are adept at controlling the flow of the battlefield to your advantage.|prlg14f][$fightstyle = "cc"]]There’s a reason your superiors have a budget for this sort of thing, after all - and anyway, there’s also at least a one-in-three chance that the window you’re about to break belongs to the people who killed those wardens.
You duck around to the front of the building, and head for the nearest window; you figure that the store nearest to the side with the basement access is the most likely to have an interior entryway. You take a quick look through it to make sure that there’s no one inside, and then shatter the glass easily with your weapon.
You take some time to briefly clear out as much of the glass as you can from the edges of the window frame, but it’s a large enough window that you don’t exactly have to squeeze to get in, which is a relief at least. Your boots scrunch on the glass on the floor as you step inside, but thankfully the noise you made doesn’t seem to have attracted anyone - not yet, anyway.
The interior of the store is dark, but far from silent. You can hear noises coming from below, even more clearly than you could outside, to the degree that you can almost make out a few words. You move past the shelves (you don’t even bother registering what’s on them) and head towards the back of the shop, looking for a way down into the basement.
The door labelled “Basement” is probably a safe bet.
You sidle up to it and quietly try the doorknob; it’s unlocked. You can hear indistinct voices on the other side, below you… from what you can tell, they seem to have devolved into a kind of low, droning chant. You take a deep breath, holding your weapon at the ready, and steel yourself, making mental preparations for what’s to come.
[[You’re going to bust in there and command as much attention as possible, to give anyone in danger a chance to flee or hide.|prlg14a][$fightstyle = "tank"]]
[[Your usual strategy is to find whomever looks like the leader and then put them down, hard and fast.|prlg14b][$fightstyle = "assault"]]
[[The element of surprise is your best, most reliable weapon.|prlg14c][$fightstyle = "ambush"]]
[[You prefer to use your environment against your enemies, letting the high ground do some of the work for you.|prlg14d][$fightstyle = "exploit"]]
[[More than anything else, your priority is to help anyone in there who is injured or in danger.|prlg14e][$fightstyle = "support"]]
[[You are adept at controlling the flow of the battlefield to your advantage.|prlg14f][$fightstyle = "cc"]]He smiles easily at you, and seems to relax a little bit. You wonder if he was expecting more criticism, or maybe even a full-blown argument.
“You’d be surprised how many people don’t see it that way,” he replies, as if reading your mind.
“Even down here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs.
“When you’ve been dead for as long as I have, some people start to think you’re outstaying your welcome. I’m sick of being asked why I’m not trying to shed my former life and return to the gods.”
You shake your head slightly in disbelief, thinking that you shouldn’t be surprised that people can be just as judgemental when dead as they are while alive.
“I figure that if it was really a problem, the gods Themselves would have told me to cut it out,” he continues, grinning once more. “So I won’t be leaving the //Wisp// anytime soon except on Their explicit orders.”
You notice him watching you carefully, despite his appearance of nonchalance. He’s obviously curious about what your response will be.
[[“The gods clearly trust that you know what is best for yourself. It’s not for me to question Their decisions.”|ch107a1a][$faith += 2, $decency += 2, $soillereascend += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith, +2 to Decency, +1 to Soillere’s Ascension stat//]<<endif>>
[[“Well, I haven’t met many dead people, obviously, but I wouldn’t be questioning your choices if you were alive, so why should I do it now?”|ch107a1b][$decency += 1, $soillere += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +1 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>
[[“People get too caught up worrying about what the gods might or might not want. We choose our own path.”|ch107a1c][$faith -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Faith//]<<endif>>“That’s what I’ve always said!” he declares, waving his arms expansively. “Nobody niggles at the people who want to spend their time in the afterlife weaving or writing books! But somehow when it comes to sailing it becomes a problem.”
You find it somewhat difficult not to laugh at him; he’s very animated for a dead person. You wonder what he must have been like while alive… and then quickly banish that thought. If your conversation with him has taught you anything, aside from all the new things that you have to worry about, it’s that people who are dead are basically the same as those who are alive.
“There are people who spend their afterlife weaving?” you ask, and he snorts in derision.
“Sounds boring, right? Apparently some people find it relaxing. I suppose I should be glad that they don’t mind making rope.”
“Is there some reason that sailing is considered worse?” you press, curious. “It just seems odd for it to be looked down on, if it’s not disallowed.”
He shrugs exasperatedly, though his expression tells you that the reason isn’t as nonsensical as he’s making out. “Well… the weavers and the writers and such stay in towns near the temples, and so they don’t tend to linger as long as those of us who travel. Some people believe that it goes against the gods’ plan. Not sure whether or not you’d agree.”
You notice him watching you carefully, despite his appearance of nonchalance. He’s obviously curious about what your response will be.
[[“The gods are wise… we’re lucky that They’ve given us so much, and that we’re taken care of even after death. If They had a problem with sailing, I’m sure you would know.”|ch107a2a][$faith += 2, $decency += 1, $soillereascend += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith, +1 to Decency, +1 to Soillere’s Ascension stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I honestly don’t know how to go about dealing with all of this new knowledge. But thank you for giving me the answers to puzzle over.”|ch107a2b][$soillere += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>
[[“I don’t even know what I believe anymore. If the gods really do have a plan then it must be a strange one, to bring living people down into the Underworld.”|ch107a2c][$faith -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Faith//]<<endif>>His mouth hardens instantly into a thin, firm line, making it clear that he isn’t happy with your comment. He folds his arms across his chest, and his easy-going demeanour is replaced with a surprising kind of obstinacy, like a housecat that turns out to be made of stone.
“Well, if we had, there would have been no one here to fish you out of the river,” he points out, and then tilts his head in the direction of the water as though inviting you to leave if you have a problem.
His body language has shut down completely, and his earlier friendliness is gone - it seems that this particular topic of conversation is a sore spot for him, for whatever reason. He doesn’t look any more corporeal like this, but you know he’s solid enough to be able to touch you from shaking his hand before. It’s hard to tell if he’d be any kind of danger to you if you angered him further, and even harder to tell if it’s worth finding out.
It seems that if the conversation is going to continue, you’re going to have to be the one to do it.
[[“I’m sorry… that was rude of me. I just don’t know how to process any of what’s going on right now. It’s overwhelming.”|ch107a3a][$soillere += 2, $decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>
[[“I suppose I couldn’t say what I would choose in your place… and the gods made the afterlife this way for a reason. I shouldn’t make judgements.”|ch107a3b][$soillere += 1, $faith += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Faith, +1 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>
[[“Holding onto earthly desires just seems so selfish. Our souls can’t return to the gods while we continue clinging to our memories of life.”|ch107a3c][$soillere -= 1, $faith += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith, -1 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>“The gods saw fit to grant us the choice as to what we do down here - if we live a good life - because They love us just as we are. We should all aim to be as accepting as They are.”
Your words surprise you a little; you don’t know where in particular the conviction behind them comes from, but even as they exit your mouth, they feel right. True. You’re glad that statements like that have found a home in your heart, even if you don’t yet remember why.
Soillere, for his part, also seems comforted by your words, though maybe not for the same reason. For a moment, there’s a faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s lost in memories, but then he shakes it off.
“You a priest?” he asks flippantly, though something in his tone doesn’t sound quite as dismissive as he is acting. “The priests back home used to say things like that when I was a boy…”
He falls silent, and you ponder his question, thinking that that would probably at least explain where your apparent faith comes from. The silence lingers, and you notice him looking at you with an expression that seems a little bit like fear.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with you giving me lectures,” he jokes eventually, and then goes quiet again, fidgeting.
You clear your throat, thinking that you should get back to business - you can talk to him about whatever is bothering him in regards to religion later. Maybe after a nap.
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]"Besides, it seems to be turning out well for you."
He grins at you appreciatively, running a hand through his hair. “Now that’s the kind of attitude I could stand to see more of. Live and let live, I always say - or I would, if I was still alive!”
You laugh, and then wonder if you should feel bad for doing so. Soillere, on the other hand, seems unbothered, his eyes gleaming brightly as he breathes what seems to be a sigh of relief.
“At least you don’t have to deal with people questioning you here on the ship, though, right?” you ask, wondering why it affects him so much. “All of the rest of the crew must feel the same way as you, surely.”
His mood dims just a little as he shrugs. “There’s not much of the original crew left, to be honest. Down here, people return to the gods when they feel ready, and that’s just a fact of - well, not life, but, you know. Most of the new folk join the crew just for a little more time before they move on… and they usually expect me to be the same way.”
“The afterlife is definitely more complicated than I’d ever imagined,” you say, shaking your head, and he laughs once more.
“People make everything complicated. But speaking of complicated, are you ready to go and talk to the captain to figure out what the fuck is going on?”
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Soillere clicks his tongue in response, giving you a somewhat sideways look. “It’s probably easier to feel that way when you don’t live in Their domain. I’m happy to do as They wish - but They’ve never asked me to pick up the pace, so I’m going to take anyone else’s words on the matter with a grain of salt.”
You shrug, thinking that the first part of his statement is likely true. You don’t know in particular where the conviction behind your words came from, but it might find itself challenged if you had been through the Judging and met the gods in person. But then again, it might not; at this point all you have is questions and not a lot of a certain answers. Maybe falling through the sky is just what happens to you when you are less devout than everyone else.
“I do appreciate that you’re not going to attempt to convince me to disappear, of course,” he adds, after your contemplation causes a pause to develop between the two of you.
You wave a hand, trying to put him at ease. “You don’t have anything to worry about from me on that front. Your choices are your own. I mean, direction would probably be nice, but sometimes you just have to go with your gut.”
“I feel like you could say that about our current predicament as well,” he answers, grinning, and you laugh. “Speaking of which, any more questions? Or shall we go and see the captain?”
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Your words surprise you a little; you don’t know where in particular the conviction behind them comes from, but even as they exit your mouth, they feel true. You don’t remember why, but they resonate with you on a level you don’t quite understand.
Soillere, for his part, also seems comforted by your words, though maybe not for the same reason. For a moment, there’s a faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s lost in memories, but then he shakes it off.
“You a priest?” he asks flippantly, though something in his tone doesn’t sound quite as dismissive as he is acting. “The priests back home used to say things like that when I was a boy…”
He falls silent, and you ponder his question, thinking that that would probably at least explain where your apparent faith comes from. The silence lingers, and you notice him looking at you with an expression that seems a little bit like fear.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with you giving me lectures,” he jokes eventually, and then goes quiet again, fidgeting.
You clear your throat, thinking that you should get back to business - you can talk to him about whatever is bothering him in regards to religion later. Maybe after a nap.
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]“They probably seem glaringly obvious to you, on top of everything else.”
He waves a hand magnanimously, looking just slightly embarrassed by your gratitude. “Don’t mention it. Most people have questions when they first arrive, so I’m used to being an informal tour guide by now.”
You smile at the mental image of him handing out little pamphlets, partially because it’s something that you could totally imagine him doing if he had the chance.
“Do you get a lot of newcomers on board?” you ask, curious, after a short pause. “Why is that? How many crewmembers can a ship in the afterlife need?”
His mood dims just a little as he shrugs. “There’s not much of the original crew left, to be honest. Down here, people return to the gods when they feel ready, and that’s just a fact of - well, not life, but, you know. Most of the new folk join the crew just for a little more time before they move on… and they usually expect me to be the same way.”
“The afterlife is definitely more complicated than I’d ever imagined,” you say, shaking your head, and he laughs once more.
“People make everything complicated. But speaking of complicated, are you ready to go and talk to the captain to figure out what the fuck is going on?”
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Soillere clicks his tongue in response, giving you a somewhat sideways look. “It’s probably easier to feel that way when you don’t live in Their domain.”
You shrug, thinking that his statement is likely true. The doubt that this strange situation has raised in your mind might have trouble sticking around if you had been through the Judging and met the gods in person. But then again, it might not; at this point all you have is questions and not a lot of a certain answers.
“I do appreciate that you’re not going to attempt to convince me to disappear, of course,” he adds, after your contemplation causes a pause to develop between the two of you.
You wave a hand, trying to put him at ease. “You don’t have anything to worry about from me on that front. I mean, instructions would probably be nice, but sometimes you just have to go with your gut, especially if none seem to be forthcoming.”
“I feel like you could say that about our current predicament as well,” he answers, grinning, and you laugh. “Speaking of which, any more questions? Or shall we go and see the captain?”
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Soillere takes a deep breath in and then lets it out slowly, visibly coaxing himself to relax. The sincerity of your words no doubt helped him make the decision to let it go, since you really are sorry. You hope that you can keep a tighter grip on your tongue in future before saying anything else that might offend any of the locals - especially because you have no idea what you’ll do if you they end up not wanting to help you.
“Can we just… pretend I didn’t say that? And then start over once I’ve had some rest?” you ask, your voice sounding as tired as you feel.
He observes you for a second, and then nods, seeming to find whatever he was looking for on your face. “I think we can do that.”
“Right,” you say, sighing in relief. “Let’s get to it, then.”
“Do you have any more questions?” he asks, the tone of his voice kept carefully even.
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Your words surprise you a little; you don’t know where in particular the conviction behind them comes from, but even as they exit your mouth, they feel true. It feels a little strange, like you’re unfamiliar with having to remind yourself of these kinds of sentiments, but you suppose that amnesia is a better reason than most to lapse in your usual morals.
Soillere’s eyes are hard, but he nods at you in seeming acceptance. “As long as you don’t try to tell me what to do, it’s no business of mine what you believe.”
The flatness of his voice tells you that you are probably not the first person to say this sort of thing to him, but it’s too late to change that now. All you can do now is remind yourself to live by the ideals of the gods and leave judgement in Their hands.
“Should we get back on track?” you ask him, politely.
He nods again, more curtly this time. “Do you have any more questions?”
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]Your words surprise you a little; you don’t know where in particular the conviction behind them comes from, but even as they exit your mouth, they feel like something that you needed to say. Like if no one had spoken out about Soillere’s behaviour it would have been an affront.
The flat, displeased look that he gives you tells you that you are probably not the first person to speak up, but it’s too late to change that now. You’ve said what your faith compelled you to say, and now the rest is up to him.
“Should we get back on track?” you ask him, mildly, and he gives you a black look.
He exhales sharply, like a snorting horse, and uncurls himself from his defensive pose only with what seems like considerable effort.
“Do you have any more questions?” he asks, making a not entirely successful attempt to keep his tone from sounding irritated.
<<if visited ("ch107b") eq 0>>[[“Am I still alive?”|ch107b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch107c") eq 0>>[[“Who was that other person over there?”|ch107c]]
<<endif>>\
[[“No more questions for now. I’m ready to meet the captain.”|ch108]]There are two people inside the cabin when you enter; Soillere nods at them both and then ducks back outside, shutting the door again behind him. You take a deep breath, not sure how you feel about the sudden absence of the one familiar face you have in this place, and busy yourself inspecting these new strangers.
Of the two, it’s easy to tell who the captain is - only one of them is wearing an elaborately-embroidered naval coat in midnight blue and epaulettes that could probably block a decent sword-stroke with all their braid, after all. The extravagant feathered hat sitting on the desk beside them is probably a good clue as well. As is the fact that they have that same wavering, only-half-there physical presence that Soillere did.
The other person in the room isn’t dressed like a pirate at all. If anything, you think, looking at what they’re wearing, they might be a scholar of some kind… or a librarian? Unlike the ship’s crew, this newcomer appears to be alive, their warm brown skin suffering no loss of colour.
//Soillere did say that four or five people had fallen through the hole in the sky//, you think to yourself, trying to guess at a time period for their clothing - something that is strangely hard to do. //Are they one of the others?//
The clothing in question is a high-necked coat of burgundy velvet, over a set of long, thick black skirts… a riding habit perhaps? It looks old-fashioned, but not quite as old-fashioned as the ship, or the crew’s outfits.
More mysteries. How very appropriate.
The captain purses their lips impatiently, seeming to just barely tolerate your inspection of them. “I hope you’re here to give me some damned answers.”
It’s a statement rather than a question. You clear your throat awkwardly, wondering what they’ll say when they find out that you can’t answer anything.
[[This is going great so far.|ch110]]“Actually, Soillere kind of implied that //you// might have answers for //me//…”
The captain groans, letting their fist drop to the desk with a thud. “I’ve had it up to here with all this shit!”
They heave themselves up out of their chair and cross the room to a decorated cabinet, opening it to extract a fluted decanter of some amber-coloured liquid. The other person in the room watches in slight amusement as the captain proceeds to ignore all of the glasses inside the cabinet and take a massive swig of what you assume is liquor right from the decanter.
“Tell us something you //do// know, then,” the captain demands, turning back to face you. “Who are you?”
Your mouth falls open in mild surprise at the blunt question and lack of introductory preamble, but the other person with you makes a small noise of disapproval and folds their arms, catching the captain’s attention.
“Oh… right. Pronouns first. That’s how they do it these days, yes?”
You frown in confusion at the captain’s words, but they make you realise that Soillere never offered his pronouns in his introduction either. It’s lucky he’d referred to himself as a man while talking to you, or you might have had no idea what to call him by.
“You’ll have to excuse the captain,” the studious-looking newcomer says to you, their voice full of scarcely-veiled amusement. “Habits can be hard to change after you’re dead. We both use she/her pronouns.”
You raise an eyebrow, interest piqued. “What did people do in the past if not specify their pronouns?”
The captain snorts, returning to her seat. “Guess, mostly.”
There’s a brief pause.
“Yes, I know, this way is clearly better. So how about it? How shall we refer to you?”
[[“I use she/her pronouns.”|ch111a][$verb_s1 = "s", $verb_s2 = "s", $verb_s3 = "s", $verb_es1 = "es", $verb_es2 = "es", $verb_es3 = "es"]]
[[“I use they/them pronouns.”|ch111b][$gender1 = "n", $gender2 = "n", $gender3 = "n", $xhe1 = "they", $xhe2 = "they", $xhe3 = "they", $xir1 = "them", $xir2 = "them", $xir3 = "them", $xirs1 = "their", $xirs2 = "their", $xirs3 = "their", $xim1 = "theirs", $xim2 = "theirs", $xim3 = "theirs", $ximself1 = "themself", $ximself2 = "themself", $ximself3 = "themself", $verb_re1 = "’re", $verb_re2 = "’re", $verb_re3 = "’re", $verb_ve1 = "’ve", $verb_ve2 = "’ve", $verb_ve3 = "’ve", $them = true]]
[[“I use he/him pronouns.”|ch111c][$gender1 = "m", $gender2 = "m", $gender3 = "m", $xhe1 = "he", $xhe2 = "he", $xhe3 = "he", $xir1 = "him", $xir2 = "him", $xir3 = "him", $xirs1 = "his", $xirs2 = "his", $xirs3 = "his", $xim1 = "his", $xim2 = "his", $xim3 = "him", $ximself1 = "himself", $ximself2 = "himself", $ximself3 = "himself", $verb_s1 = "s", $verb_s2 = "s", $verb_s3 = "s", $verb_es1 = "es", $verb_es2 = "es", $verb_es3 = "es"]]
[[“I use she/they pronouns.”|ch111e][$gender1 = "n", $gender3 = "n", $xhe1 = "they", $xhe3 = "they", $xir1 = "them", $xir3 = "them", $xirs1 = "their", $xirs3 = "their", $xim1 = "theirs", $xim3 = "theirs", $ximself1 = "themself", $ximself3 = "themself", $verb_re1 = "’re", $verb_s2 = "s", $verb_re3 = "’re", $verb_ve1 = "’ve", $verb_es2 = "es", $verb_ve3 = "’ve", $them = true]]
[[“I use he/they pronouns.”|ch111f][$gender1 = "n", $gender2 = "m", $gender3 = "n", $xhe1 = "they", $xhe2 = "he", $xhe3 = "they", $xir1 = "them", $xir2 = "him", $xir3 = "them", $xirs1 = "their", $xirs2 = "his", $xirs3 = "their", $xim1 = "theirs", $xim2 = "his", $xim3 = "theirs", $ximself1 = "themself", $ximself2 = "himself", $ximself3 = "themself", $verb_re1 = "’re", $verb_s2 = "s", $verb_re3 = "’re", $verb_ve1 = "’ve", $verb_es2 = "es", $verb_ve3 = "’ve", $them = true]]
[[“I use any pronouns.”|ch111g][$gender2 = "m", $gender3 = "n", $xhe2 = "he", $xhe3 = "they", $xir2 = "him", $xir3 = "them", $xirs2 = "his", $xirs3 = "their", $xim2 = "his", $xim3 = "theirs", $ximself2 = "himself", $ximself3 = "themself", $verb_s1 = "s", $verb_s2 = "s", $verb_re3 = "’re", $verb_es1 = "es", $verb_es2 = "es", $verb_ve3 = "’ve", $them = true]]
[[Manually input your own pronouns.|ch111d][$gender = "custom"]]The other woman smiles at your response. “And are you comfortable being referred to by terms like ‘woman’?”
[[“Yes, feminine terms are good.”|ch112]]
[[“No, I prefer gender-neutral terms like ‘person’.”|ch112][$woman = "person", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "serrah", $madam = "ser", $daughter = "child", $sister = "sibling"]]
[[“No, I prefer masculine terms like ‘man’.”|ch112][$woman = "man", $lady = "guy", $mistress = "master", $madam = "mister", $daughter = "son", $sister = "brother"]]The other woman smiles at your response. “And are you comfortable being referred to by terms like ‘person’?”
[[“Yes, gender-neutral terms are good.”|ch112][$woman = "person", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "serrah", $madam = "ser", $daughter = "child", $sister = "sibling"]]
[[“No, I prefer feminine terms like ‘woman’.”|ch112]]
[[“No, I prefer masculine terms like ‘man’.”|ch112][$woman = "man", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "master", $madam = "mister", $daughter = "son", $sister = "brother"]]The other woman smiles at your response. “And are you comfortable being referred to by terms like ‘man’?”
[[“Yes, masculine terms are good.”|ch112][$woman = "man", $lady = "guy", $mistress = "master", $madam = "mister", $daughter = "son", $sister = "brother"]]
[[“No, I prefer feminine terms like ‘woman’.”|ch112]]
[[“No, I prefer gender-neutral terms like ‘person’.”|ch112][$woman = "person", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "serrah", $madam = "ser", $daughter = "child", $sister = "sibling"]]
The captain nods firmly, leaning back in her chair. “Understood. If you tell the crew, they’ll make sure to use the correct pronouns, even if they forget to ask.”
“I hadn’t realised that there would be such a culture difference between the living and the, uh-” you begin, and then take a deep breath, deciding to finish the thought, “the dead.”
The captain shrugs, though you can see by the frown on her face that she’s not entirely indifferent to the topic. “Time moves on. People live again. It’s the way things are.”
The other woman smiles, though you notice that it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. “You’ll find that the crew of the //Wisp// are much more exposed to the ways of the living than most long-term inhabitants of the Underworld. They’ve had to put up with a few of us before.”
Despite the seeming coldness of her eyes, there’s no hostility in her words. You find yourself wondering if the way she acts is a side effect of spending too much time among the dead… and then suppress a shudder, firmly shoving that thought away. There’s no time or space to contemplate things like that, not right now. And anyway, if you have anything to say about it, you won’t be here for any protracted length of time.
“I suppose it’s lucky that you were around to find me then,” you say, to break the silence, and the captain snorts in response.
“//Very//. But we’ll get to that later. Do you have a name?”
[[See a pre-suggested list of feminine-leaning names.|ch112a]]
[[See a pre-suggested list of more gender-neutral names.|ch112b]]
[[See a pre-suggested list of masculine-leaning names.|ch112c]]
Enter your own name: <<textbox "$pcname" "">>\
<<button "Confirm">>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.trim()>>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.toUpperFirst()>>
<<goto ch113>>
<</button>>Choose a name from the list below…
<div class="gc">[[Wirriwirri|ch113][$pcname = "Wirriwirri"]]
[[Niabi|ch113][$pcname = "Niabi"]]
[[Yanti|ch113][$pcname = "Yanti"]]
[[Tidir|ch113][$pcname = "Tidir"]]
[[Hassana|ch113][$pcname = "Hassana"]]
[[Aonani|ch113][$pcname = "Aonani"]]
[[Enkhtuya|ch113][$pcname = "Enkhtuya"]]
[[Nyota|ch113][$pcname = "Nyota"]]
[[Phoolan|ch113][$pcname = "Phoolan"]]
[[Zyanya|ch113][$pcname = "Zyanya"]]
[[Shifra|ch113][$pcname = "Shifra"]]
[[Brighde|ch113][$pcname = "Brighde"]]
[[Phaidra|ch113][$pcname = "Phaidra"]]
[[Sorina|ch113][$pcname = "Sorina"]]</div>
Or, enter your own name: <<textbox "$pcname" "">>
<<button "Confirm">>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.trim()>>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.toUpperFirst()>>
<<goto ch113>>
<</button>>
<br>
<br>
You can view a list of pre-suggested [[gender-neutral|ch112b]] or [[masculine|ch112c]] names here.Choose a name from the list below…
<div class="gc">[[Iluka|ch113][$pcname = "Iluka"]]
[[Shikoba|ch113][$pcname = "Shikoba"]]
[[Taman|ch113][$pcname = "Taman"]]
[[Ayyur|ch113][$pcname = "Ayyur"]]
[[Nour|ch113][$pcname = "Nour"]]
[[Akahi|ch113][$pcname = "Akahi"]]
[[Nergüi|ch113][$pcname = "Nergüi"]]
[[Penha|ch113][$pcname = "Penha"]]
[[Chaitanya|ch113][$pcname = "Chaitanya"]]
[[Xipil|ch113][$pcname = "Xipil"]]
[[Liron|ch113][$pcname = "Liron"]]
[[Dáire|ch113][$pcname = "Dáire"]]
[[Galinthias|ch113][$pcname = "Galinthias"]]
[[Marian|ch113][$pcname = "Marian"]]</div>
Or, enter your own name: <<textbox "$pcname" "">>
<<button "Confirm">>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.trim()>>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.toUpperFirst()>>
<<goto ch113>>
<</button>>
<br>
<br>
You can view a list of pre-suggested [[feminine|ch112a]] or [[masculine|ch112c]] names here.Choose a name from the list below…
<div class="gc">[[Ngarra|ch113][$pcname = "Ngarra"]]
[[Matoskah|ch113][$pcname = "Matoskah"]]
[[Irwan|ch113][$pcname = "Irwan"]]
[[Daliz|ch113][$pcname = "Daliz"]]
[[Youssef|ch113][$pcname = "Youssef"]]
[[Kahawai|ch113][$pcname = "Kahawai"]]
[[Batbayar|ch113][$pcname = "Batbayar"]]
[[Zawadi|ch113][$pcname = "Zawadi"]]
[[Chatur|ch113][$pcname = "Chatur"]]
[[Matlal|ch113][$pcname = "Matlal"]]
[[Talmai|ch113][$pcname = "Talmai"]]
[[Cailean|ch113][$pcname = "Cailean"]]
[[Lysander|ch113][$pcname = "Lysander"]]
[[Codrin|ch113][$pcname = "Codrin"]]</div>
Or, enter your own name: <<textbox "$pcname" "">>
<<button "Confirm">>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.trim()>>
<<set $pcname to $pcname.toUpperFirst()>>
<<goto ch113>>
<</button>>
<br>
<br>
You can view a list of pre-suggested [[gender-neutral|ch112b]] or [[feminine|ch112a]] names here.<<set $codex106 to true>><<if $codex304 neq true>><<run memorize('codex304', true)>><<set $codex304 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: Captain Bettina d’Arlesce, Autreme<</notify>><<else>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Captain Bettina d’Arlesce<</notify>><<endif>>\
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>“You can call me $pcname,” you say, ducking your head politely in greeting.
She folds her arms, grinning, and inclines her head in response.<<else>>“You can call me $pcname,” you say, extending a hand in her direction for her to shake.
She takes it without hesitation, and her hand is just as solid as Soillere’s was, if a little bonier.<<endif>> “Pleased to meet you. I’m Captain Elisabettina Laurene Katharina Ylvara d’Arlesce, of the Autremian Royal Navy. You can call me ‘captain’.”
The other woman’s lips twist into a wry grin. “Or Bettina.”
“If you must, I suppose,” the captain replies, sighing.
You look at her again, taking in more than just the rather dramatic naval uniform this time. She looks to be in her early-to-mid-forties - to //have been// in her early-to-mid-forties when she died, you suppose - with wrinkles showing around the edges of her face when she frowns. Her skin, from what you can tell through the colourless pall, is fair, though it carries the warm flush of someone who spends - //spent// - a lot of time outside in the sun. She has a prominent nose and flat, round cheeks, with small brown eyes peeking out from under thick brows.
She stands about six feet tall, and cuts an imposing figure; her body, especially her torso, is solid and well-muscled, and you imagine that she must have been inspiring to see in action. Her thick, curly black hair is pulled back into a clasp at the base of her neck (the better to fit under that splendid hat, obviously) before continuing on to cascade down her back, and she moves with an assuredness and poise that speaks of confidence and experience.
“Uh… Autremian?” you ask, as your brain catches up with you, not recognising the name.
She sighs heavily. “It’s not surprising that you don’t know. Autreme is gone now, of course. But it will always be my home regardless.”
To break the somewhat heavy moment, you turn your attention to the other woman<<if $touchaverse eq true>>.<<else>> and hold out a hand for her to shake as well.<<endif>>
[[“And you?”|ch114]]<<set $codex107 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Our Lady<</notify>>\
<<if $touchaverse eq false>>To your surprise, she stares at your outstretched hand hesitantly for a moment before taking it. You immediately realise the likely reason why, as soon as her skin touches yours - it doesn’t feel like any skin you’ve ever touched before.
She’s cold, much like how you might have imagined the inhabitants of the Underworld would feel-before today, anyway-and her skin has none of the pliancy you’re used to, especially for the skin on a hand. She feels stiff, almost solid, and it takes some degree of effort to keep your shock from showing on your face as you shake her hand politely.
You’ve known people with prosthetic limbs before, but those are usually either very similar to the limb in question in texture, or very obviously made of metal. You don’t really know what to make of this information, but you can tell by the look on her face that she is keenly interested in your attempts to process it.
“It’s complicated,” she says softly, in response to the thoughts that must have flashed across your face.
<<endif>>\
She has hair the same ebony colour as the captain, though hers is finer, and left loose to drape over her shoulders and soften the edges of her face. She has wide, almond-shaped eyes that are a breathtaking golden colour, another oddity. Her cheekbones, nose and jawline are all very straight and sharp, giving her a stunning profile, but it’s still her eyes that capture your attention the most.
“You can call me-” she begins, and then stops to take a breath, seeming to turn the words over in her mind before being ready to say them. “Our Lady. All the others do.”
The captain shrugs once more. “It’s as good a name as any.”
Our Lady, on the other hand, seems to have noticed your eyebrows shoot upwards in curiosity.
“<<if $touchaverse eq true>>It’s complicated<<else>>That’s complicated too<<endif>>,” she says, in a voice that is quiet, but firm in its finality.
“And we don’t have time right now to deal with any extra complications,” the captain breaks in, her earlier irritation returning. “We can tell our life stories once we figure out what’s going on with the hole in the damned sky!”
That’s certainly a statement that you find it hard to argue with.
“So you don’t know what’s going on either?” you ask, addressing the question to both of them.
[[The lack of answers is beginning to grate on you.|ch115]]<<if $codex209 neq true>><<run memorize('codex209', true)>><<set $codex209 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: the Black River<</notify>><<endif>>\
The captain takes a deep breath in and seems to very deliberately swallow down her frustration, as though she knows that it’s no good being angry with you. You get the feeling that whatever is happening, it must be very stressful for everyone who lives in the Underworld as well as for you. Well, “lives.”
“Two days ago, we were sailing the Black River as usual, no indication that anything out of the ordinary was about to happen,” she says, much more calmly. “Then, out of nowhere, that- that //thing// in the sky opened up. And before we could even process what was happening, there were things falling through it. //People//.”
She frowns, observing you closely. “I don’t know what’s going on up there in your world. But I suspect it’s something bad.”
Unbidden, the image of the vicious, jagged knife arises in your mind once more, and you fail to hold back a shudder at the memory.
“I think you’re right,” you say, reluctantly. “But I only remember very small snippets of things happening. I can’t think of anything useful. I don’t even remember what I do for a living.”
The captain sighs, but Our Lady waves a hand, seemingly less perturbed. “Unfortunately, that’s to be expected, $pcname. The waters of the Black River strip the memories of life from souls who wish to forget. The hole in the sky is directly over the river; we did everything we could to reach you, but you were still in the water for a minute or two.”
A horrible chill feeling settles over you like a funeral shroud, and you feel sick to your stomach suddenly. “You mean… I won’t ever get those memories back?”
The two of them exchange a grim look.
“We aren’t sure,” the captain answers, eventually. “We’ve never seen anything like this before. Especially not with one of the living. But you were in the river for less time than some of the others. We were hoping- well. We hoped that you wouldn’t have forgotten quite as much.”
[[…quite as much?|ch116]]You force yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. Your headache throbs in your temples like the beating of a drum, and you have to work hard not to sway on the spot.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Our Lady offers, pulling out a chair from by the wall, and you gratefully collapse into it.
“There were others who forgot more?” you ask, once you feel you have yourself under slightly better control.
“We made it here in time to collect four of you in total,” the captain explains, after a weighty pause. “And we saw another hit the water, though we couldn’t get to them in time. That person experienced what people who come to the Black River to forget their lives undergo: once all their memories had been washed away, their body disappeared, and their soul returned to the gods.”
You swallow hard, gripping the arms of your chair a little tighter, as if to remind yourself that it’s real. That //you’re// real.
“Another was in the water for so long that they seemed to have forgotten… most things,” the captain continues, ignoring your reaction. “They were essentially catatonic. With no knowledge of whether the process was reversible or not, we thought it was kinder to return them to the waters and leave them in the gods’ hands.”
You nod faintly, and pass your hand over your eyes, a terrifying maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you. You ignore them all, for now, though you have a feeling you won’t be able to do so indefinitely.
[[More things to deal with later… if you even can.|ch117]]<<if $codex108 neq true>><<run memorize('codex108', true)>><<run memorize('codex109', true)>><<run memorize('codex110', true)>><<run memorize('codex111', true)>><<run memorize('codex305', true)>><<run memorize('codex306', true)>><<run memorize('codex307', true)>><<run memorize('codex308', true)>><<run memorize('codex309', true)>><<set $codex108 to true>><<set $codex109 to true>><<set $codex110 to true>><<set $codex111 to true>><<set $codex305 to true>><<set $codex306 to true>><<set $codex307 to true>><<set $codex308 to true>><<set $codex309 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: the nations, national history<</notify>><<endif>>\
“And the other two people you rescued?”
“Both had more stab wounds than you did,” the captain answers, leaning back in her chair. “One hasn’t woken up yet… they’re still in the surgery, healing. The other seems to be in roughly the same position as you.”
You nod again, staring blankly at a spot on the wall opposite you.
“Are you all right?” Our Lady asks, a note of concern in her voice.
“Just wondering what else I might have forgotten,” you manage to croak out.
Our Lady makes a small noise of sympathy, her golden eyes fixed on yours, but the captain just waves her hands in the air in a gesture of helplessness, as if to say “look at all this shit we have to deal with!”
“It could be worse,” she says, sighing. “You remember your name. That’s something. What about where you’re from, do you remember that?”
Thankfully, this is another question you know the answer to. It seems that your memories of your childhood are mostly intact - or as intact as anyone’s childhood memories, anyway. You don’t even need to hesitate before answering; you hail from…
[[…the Umnassian Coalition|ch118a][$race = "human", $nation = "the Umnassian Coalition", $prs += 2, $end += 2, $frc -= 2]], a group of allied nations whose territory stretches into the easternmost reaches of the continent. Though people of all races live in the Coalition, humans are the most numerous. [//Human characters gain a +2 to Endurance and Presence, and a -2 to Force.//]
[[…the seaside nation of Lamerra|ch118b][$race = "lamerran", $nation = "Lamerra", $vig += 2, $cun += 2, $end -= 2]]. The lamerrans were human several millennia ago, but in order to survive a geological catastrophe, they were magically altered so that part of their soul lives outside of their bodies in the form of an animal familiar. These soul-familiars often reflect the personality or fate of the lamerran that they belong to. [//Lamerran characters gain a +2 to Vigilance and Cunning, and a -2 to Endurance.//]
[[…the Wolven Empire|ch118c][$race = "wolven", $nation = "the Wolven Empire", $frc += 2, $end += 2, $prs -= 2]]. Just over a century ago, a virulent plague swept through the closely-packed kingdoms on the western side of the continent, a lycanthropy plague that killed many and transformed the rest into what are known as werewolves. Continuing violent political upheaval in the region and lingering fear of the plague give the wolven a poor reputation with the other nations, though in reality they are rarely dangerous unless they choose to be. [//Wolven characters gain a +2 to Force and Endurance, and a -2 to Presence.//]
[[…the mountain kingdom of Thym’an|ch118d][$race = "thym’ani", $nation = "Thym’an", $frc += 2, $agi += 2, $vig -= 2]]. The enigmatic thym’ani originally came from far away, but were stranded on the continent and created a new home for themselves in the mountains to the north. They have greatly advanced technology compared to the other nations, and are physically distinct from humans and the other humanoid races, having four arms and four eyes each. [//Thym’ani characters gain a +2 to Force and Agility, and a -2 to Vigilance.//]<<if $codex310 neq true>><<run memorize('codex310', true)>><<set $codex310 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: the southern islands<</notify>><<endif>>\
“I grew up in Coalition lands,” you say, and then raise an eyebrow at the blank look that the captain gives you. “The… Umnassian Coalition?”
She turns to face Our Lady, obviously still not understanding, and you find yourself wondering just how long the //Wisp// and her crew have been here in the Underworld. The peace brought about by the signing of the accords at Umnassus has lasted centuries already.
The ghost of a smirk crosses Our Lady’s face, but she seems to do her best to hide it. “All of the human nations not directly west of the Great Bay created an economic and military compact in order to avoid war, Bettina. I do recall mentioning it to you once or twice before.”
“Probably,” the captain mutters in response, waving a hand dismissively. “The important thing is that $pcname remembers, not that I understand $xirs3 socioeconomic background.”
Silence falls, and you watch thoughts flit across the captain’s face for a moment before she groans loudly and leans back in her chair.
“Gods, but I wish we could find even //one// answer,” she grumbles, rubbing at her eyes with her hands and tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling.
Our Lady closes her eyes for a moment and then turns away, moving to look out one of the windows along the wall next to her. “I can’t see any particularly obvious link between $pcname and the others that we managed to save. If none of you remember what happened, there may be no way to find out other than returning to the surface.”
“Where are the other survivors from?” you ask, wondering if any details will jog your memory.
“The one who hasn’t woken up yet is a thym’ani, one who lived underground by the looks of their skin,” the captain responds, fiddling idly with the cuffs of her sleeves. “The other is a human, from the southern islands.”
“The three of you make a strange group,” Our Lady muses, frowning. “Even disregarding anyone else that might have been there.”
[[How did you get tangled up in all this?|ch119]]<<if $codex310 neq true>><<run memorize('codex310', true)>><<set $codex310 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: the southern islands<</notify>><<endif>>\
“I grew up in Lamerra,” you say, wringing your hands briefly. “I don’t suppose… you didn’t see my soul-familiar anywhere, did you?”
The captain takes a deep breath, frowning. “No, none. We didn’t even see any fall into the river. Does that mean that yours is still somewhere up above?”
“Well, I hope so,” you say, nervous suddenly. “I mean, what’s the alternative? That coming to the Underworld makes your soul-familiar vanish instantly?”
“Don’t worry,” Our Lady interjects, her voice taking on a soothing tone. “Lamerran souls that die and come to the Underworld keep their soul-familiars with them. Yours is probably just back in the living world, worrying about you.”
You sigh, telling yourself that you’ll have to accept that for now. Even if the scraps of memory you have, of chains and knives and cultists, make you worry that your soul-familiar might be less-than-safe as well.
“At least you remember them,” the captain says, kindly, and you nod in response.
Silence falls, and you watch thoughts flit across the captain’s face for a moment before she groans loudly and leans back in her chair.
“Gods, but I wish we could find even //one// answer,” she grumbles, rubbing at her eyes with her hands and tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling.
Our Lady closes her eyes for a moment and then turns away, moving to look out one of the windows along the wall next to her. “I can’t see any particularly obvious link between $pcname and the others that we managed to save. If none of you remember what happened, there may be no way to find out other than returning to the surface.”
“Where are the other survivors from?” you ask, wondering if any details will jog your memory.
“The one who hasn’t woken up yet is a thym’ani, one who lived underground by the looks of their skin,” the captain responds, fiddling idly with the cuffs of her sleeves. “The other is a human, from the southern islands.”
“The three of you make a strange group,” Our Lady muses, frowning. “Even disregarding anyone else that might have been there.”
[[How did you get tangled up in all this?|ch119]]<<if $codex310 neq true>><<run memorize('codex310', true)>><<set $codex310 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: the southern islands<</notify>><<endif>>\
“I come from the Empire,” you say, and then raise an eyebrow at the blank look that the captain gives you. “The… Wolven Empire?”
She turns to face Our Lady, obviously still not understanding, and you remember the antiquity of the ship, realising that the //Wisp// and her crew must have already found their way to the Underworld by the time that the lycanthropy plague emerged.
A sad expression crosses Our Lady’s face, and she clasps her hands together in front of her. “<<print $xhe3.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re3 talking about what became of the lands west of the Great Bay, Bettina. Where Autreme used to be.”
You inhale sharply, remembering the grisly fates of many of those in the nations that had existed before the onset of the plague. The captain might be considered lucky to have been dead before then.
“Oh,” she says flatly, tensing in her chair. “Well. At least you remember.”
Silence falls, and you watch thoughts flit across the captain’s face for a moment before she groans loudly and leans back in her chair.
“Gods, but I wish we could find even //one// answer,” she grumbles, rubbing at her eyes with her hands and tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling.
Our Lady closes her eyes for a moment and then turns away, moving to look out one of the windows along the wall next to her. “I can’t see any particularly obvious link between $pcname and the others that we managed to save. If none of you remember what happened, there may be no way to find out other than returning to the surface.”
“Where are the other survivors from?” you ask, wondering if any details will jog your memory.
“The one who hasn’t woken up yet is a thym’ani, one who lived underground by the looks of their skin,” the captain responds, fiddling idly with the cuffs of her sleeves. “The other is a human, from the southern islands.”
“The three of you make a strange group,” Our Lady muses, frowning. “Even disregarding anyone else that might have been there.”
[[How did you get tangled up in all this?|ch119]]<<if $codex310 neq true>><<run memorize('codex310', true)>><<set $codex310 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: the southern islands<</notify>><<endif>>\
You hold up your arms - all four of them. “Are you seriously not able to tell?”
The captain laughs, the first time you’ve seen her do so genuinely. “Hey, I’m not the one with amnesia. It’s more important for you to remember than it is for me to know.”
“Besides, the thym’ani aren’t so sheltered from the rest of the world as they used to be,” Our Lady adds, smiling thinly. “There’s no reason to assume that you come from Thym’an.”
You shrug. “I suppose you’re right. I did grow up in the capital though… I still remember the first time that I saw the sun. It was quite an event.”
The captain fixes you with a lingering, slightly morose gaze. “The conditions down here probably won’t take as much adjusting for you, then. That’s something to be grateful for, at least.”
Silence falls, and you watch thoughts flit across the captain’s face for a moment before she groans loudly and leans back in her chair.
“Gods, but I wish we could find even //one// answer,” she grumbles, rubbing at her eyes with her hands and tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling.
Our Lady closes her eyes for a moment and then turns away, moving to look out one of the windows along the wall next to her. “I can’t see any particularly obvious link between $pcname and the others that we managed to save. If none of you remember what happened, there may be no way to find out other than returning to the surface.”
“Where are the other survivors from?” you ask, wondering if any details will jog your memory.
“The one who hasn’t woken up yet is another thym’ani, one who lived underground by the looks of their skin,” the captain responds, fiddling idly with the cuffs of her sleeves. “The other is a human, from the southern islands.”
“The three of you make a strange group,” Our Lady muses, frowning. “Even disregarding anyone else that might have been there.”
[[How did you get tangled up in all this?|ch119]]You close your eyes, staring at the blackness inside your eyelids for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably in your chair as the dark brings memories swimming up to the forefront of your consciousness again, like a corpse bobbing in a river. You frown involuntarily as you remember the chains and the chanting and the figure with the knife, so deeply that you feel like it might leave a mark.
Our Lady’s suggestion that the only way to understand what’s going on may be to return to the surface suddenly doesn’t sound like a very good idea at all.
“What is it?” the captain asks, and you open your eyes to find her staring intently at you.
You lean forward in your chair, resting your elbows on your knees, and take a deep, steadying breath before relaying what you saw and felt in the scrap of memory. Our Lady listens with interest; the captain listens with growing disgust.
The latter stands abruptly when you’re done, breath hissing between her teeth, and returns to her liquor cabinet.
“A ritual, perhaps?” Our Lady offers, twisting her fingers together as her mind turns the idea over. “To open a hole - a //gate//, I suppose, in a way - into the Underworld? A spell that required… specific components?”
You just barely manage to swallow down the bile that rises in your throat at her use of the word ‘components.’
“You think we were chosen to use as sacrifices for a reason?” you manage to ask, your voice sounding distant to your ears.
[[This just keeps getting better and better…|ch120]]<<if $codex112 neq true>><<run memorize('codex112', true)>><<run memorize('codex113', true)>><<run memorize('codex114', true)>><<run memorize('codex115', true)>><<run memorize('codex210', true)>><<run memorize('codex211', true)>><<run memorize('codex212', true)>><<run memorize('codex213', true)>><<set $codex112 to true>><<set $codex113 to true>><<set $codex114 to true>><<set $codex115 to true>><<set $codex210 to true>><<set $codex211 to true>><<set $codex212 to true>><<set $codex213 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: the factions, the gods<</notify>><<endif>>\
She fixes you with a calm stare that makes your blood roil. How can she be so casual about all this?
“A spell of the kind of magnitude that could breach the barrier between worlds would have incredibly specific requirements,” she says matter-of-factly, seemingly oblivious to your reaction. “To cast it would take years of planning. Perhaps a //decade// or more of research. Nothing would be left to chance, not if the person casting it wanted it to succeed. For whatever reason, you were integral to the spell’s ability to function. As were the others.”
“Why?” the captain demands, juggling several decanters, and Our Lady lifts her shoulders slightly in a shrug.
“Impossible to say without more information. Do you remember //anything// else about your life?” She returns her attention to you. “Even something abstract may provide a clue.”
You stare at her for a second, head aching. You almost don’t even want to try remembering anything else… but it’s true that you’ve mostly been searching for complete memories so far. Maybe smaller snatches of information will be more accessible.
You fix your gaze firmly on the blackened timbers beneath your feet, trying not to think too hard about anything in particular, and attempt to relax. After a few deep breaths, your focus wavers slightly…
[//Your faction choice will not affect your raw stats, but it will affect which class choices are available to you, as well as thematic and story elements.//]
You remember… vaulted ceilings… freshly-turned earth… apiaries and butterfly houses… rows of almond trees in the sun… brown, white and orange… daffodils blooming in the springtime… lambs frolicking in the fields and light streaming through intricately-carved arches… the symbolism of the goddess [[Accharina|ch121a][$faction = "Hallowed Heart", $deity = "Accharina", $dgender = "f", $title = "steward"]]…
You remember… austere marble columns… clear mountain air… owls hooting in their roosts… carpets of ivy across the stone walls… silver, purple and black… dainty violets in the weak winter sun… bats chittering under the eaves as the healers do their work… the symbolism of the god [[Uchenqe|ch121b][$faction = "Spectral Court", $deity = "Uchenqe", $dgender = "m", $dxhe = "he", $dxir = "him", $dxirs = "his", $dxim = "his", $dximself = "himself", $mother = "father", $goddess = "god", $dlady = "lord", $title = "keeper"]]…
You remember… stone gazebos… canals of water… herons wading in amongst the fish… reeds whispering in the breeze… blue, green and pink… water lilies bursting in the summer… cats lounging on the stonework while initiates meditate nearby… the symbolism of the goddess [[Nabhuti|ch121c][$faction = "Judiciary", $deity = "Nabhuti", $dgender = "f", $title = "warden"]]…
You remember… tall stone monoliths… bonfires burning through the night… ravens darting among the trees… endless fields of rustling heather… grey, yellow and red… flaming chrysanthemums in the autumn… dogs howling across the moors in the dark… the symbolism of the god [[Osnach|ch121d][$faction = "Gatherers", $deity = "Osnach", $dgender = "m", $dxhe = "he", $dxir = "him", $dxirs = "his", $dxim = "his", $dximself = "himself", $mother = "father", $goddess = "god", $dlady = "lord", $title = "seeker"]]…
[[Lie and tell them that you can’t remember anything.|ch121e][$honesty -= 5]] [//You will still be able to choose your faction if you select this option.//]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-5 to Honesty//]<<endif>>
[[You really can’t remember anything else… it’s all just blank.|ch121f][$amnesia = true]] [//Your faction will be chosen randomly if you select this option.//]// - bees buzz lazily between the avenues of flowering citrus trees, stopping occasionally to inspect a particularly tempting bloom. All around you, a group of novitiates is busy tending the earth; some are digging furrows for herbs along the sides of the path, while others are piling mulch at the feet of the ardently-blossoming fruit trees, and yet more are turning over the soil in nearby garden beds, preparing it for the planting of seeds.//
//You pass them all by, nodding respectfully to the tutor who is overseeing them, and continue through the gardens until you come to the rotunda where the Preceptor is waiting. Sunlight does its best to break through the fragrant drapery of honeysuckle clinging to the rotunda’s cedar frame, the dappled light playing across the Preceptor’s modest white habit like a gambolling fawn. They look up from their book to see you, and smile in greeting - //
You blink a few times, shocked, as the rest of the memory fades into obscurity, slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers.
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain watching you closely, and feel your cheeks heat up briefly in embarrassment as you wonder just how obvious it was that you were experiencing that flashback.
“I, um,” you begin, and then clear your throat in order to stop your voice from wavering. “I think I used to serve the $faction.”
The captain raises her eyebrows at Our Lady in an unspoken question, and Our Lady taps one finger against her lips, her golden eyes lost in thought.
“Maybe servants of the gods were a necessary part of the ritual? One or two for each god, perhaps. We’ll have to see if either of the other two survivors are also dedicated to a particular faith.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]<<if $codex214 neq true>><<run memorize('codex214', true)>><<set $codex214 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Witchlights<</notify>><<endif>>\
// - you pause in the middle of the gently swaying rope bridge to raise your eyes to the skies, marvelling in the pristine blackness sprinkled with stars, unmarred out here by the lights that fill every city. Aside from the faint purple glow of witchlights dotting the temple complex and painting the buildings in muted shades of violet and midnight blue, all there is to see by is the silver glow of the moon.//
//A cold evening breeze whispers by you as you stand there, catching on your clothing like a playful child. You take a moment to savour it, breathing it in; you’ve been gone for far too long. It’s not exactly unusual for your duties to take you away from your home here in the mountains, but you briefly consider asking the Magistrate to allow you some leeway on not having to be away for so long a period of time. You’re starting to - //
You blink a few times, shocked, as the rest of the memory fades into obscurity, slipping away like you’re trying to hold on to the wind.
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain watching you closely, and feel your cheeks heat up briefly in embarrassment as you wonder just how obvious it was that you were experiencing that flashback.
“I, um,” you begin, and then clear your throat in order to stop your voice from wavering. “I think I used to serve the $faction.”
The captain raises her eyebrows at Our Lady in an unspoken question, and Our Lady taps one finger against her lips, her golden eyes lost in thought.
“Maybe servants of the gods were a necessary part of the ritual? One or two for each god, perhaps. We’ll have to see if either of the other two survivors are also dedicated to a particular faith.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]// - the flat-bottomed boat glides gently through the water of the canal, barely disturbing the fragrant carpet of lotuses all around you on its way. Careful to keep your motions delicate, you dip your oar back into the water and propel yourself forwards again, listening to the jabirus squawk and squabble in the distance. If you weren’t so late, you might be tempted to stay awhile…//
//The pastel tapestry of sunrise is already hung prominently in the sky by the time your boat brings you to the steps of the main temple complex, and you spring out onto the stone stairs with practiced ease. The two wardens stationed at either end of the arched doorway bow low as you approach, but you can barely manage to slow your rushed pace in order to acknowledge the gesture. You don’t want to know what the Judicar will do if you - //
You blink a few times, shocked, as the rest of the memory fades into obscurity, slipping away like you’re trying to grasp water in your hand.
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain watching you closely, and feel your cheeks heat up briefly in embarrassment as you wonder just how obvious it was that you were experiencing that flashback.
“I, um,” you begin, and then clear your throat in order to stop your voice from wavering. “I think I used to serve the $faction.”
The captain raises her eyebrows at Our Lady in an unspoken question, and Our Lady taps one finger against her lips, her golden eyes lost in thought.
“Maybe servants of the gods were a necessary part of the ritual? One or two for each god, perhaps. We’ll have to see if either of the other two survivors are also dedicated to a particular faith.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]// - you purse your lips impatiently and begin to bounce up and down on the balls of your feet as you look out over the field of gorse before you. The heat of the fire at your back is comforting, almost like a physical presence. Sighing, you lean heavily against the standing stone beside you and try to calm down. Your eyes return to constantly scanning the horizon, watching for any sign of your huntmaster; she should be back by now, you know it.//
//The lurid colours of sunset stain the sky like dyes swirling in water, slowly draining away as time ticks on. The unending gorse flowers seem to glow in the light of the dying sun, the little pinpricks of yellow glinting like each one holds a tiny flame of its own, a sea of little beacons. You wait until night falls, until no light remains but your bonfire, and then gather your things to leave. The Sentinel is going to have a fit - //
You blink a few times, shocked, as the rest of the memory fades into obscurity, slipping away like you’re trying to capture smoke in your grasp.
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain watching you closely, and feel your cheeks heat up briefly in embarrassment as you wonder just how obvious it was that you were experiencing that flashback.
“I, um,” you begin, and then clear your throat in order to stop your voice from wavering. “I think I used to serve the $faction.”
The captain raises her eyebrows at Our Lady in an unspoken question, and Our Lady taps one finger against her lips, her golden eyes lost in thought.
“Maybe servants of the gods were a necessary part of the ritual? One or two for each god, perhaps. We’ll have to see if either of the other two survivors are also dedicated to a particular faith.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]You find yourself wondering exactly how much you trust either of the women in the room with you. Granted, the strange scenery outside, and the obvious otherworldliness of the ship’s crew, would be difficult and probably pointless to go to the trouble of producing just to fool you. But you only have their word that they pulled you from the river in an attempt to save your life.
Who’s to say that the gate between the living world and the Underworld wasn’t created from down here? Our Lady certainly seems quick to speculate about it…
It seems safer, for now at least, to keep anything else that you might remember to yourself. If you get your memories back and it becomes clear that no one on board the //Wisp// had anything to do with what happened, you can just tell them later.
To your surprise, while musing on this thought, a few memories surface lazily in the back of your mind…
You remember… vaulted ceilings… freshly-turned earth… apiaries and butterfly houses… rows of almond trees in the sun… brown, white and orange… daffodils blooming in the springtime… lambs frolicking in the fields and light streaming through intricately-carved arches… the symbolism of the goddess [[Accharina|ch121e1][$faction = "Hallowed Heart", $deity = "Accharina", $dgender = "f", $title = "steward"]]…
You remember… austere marble columns… clear mountain air… owls hooting in their roosts… carpets of ivy across the stone walls… silver, purple and black… dainty violets in the weak winter sun… bats chittering under the eaves as the healers do their work… the symbolism of the god [[Uchenqe|ch121e2][$faction = "Spectral Court", $deity = "Uchenqe", $dgender = "m", $dxhe = "he", $dxir = "him", $dxirs = "his", $dxim = "his", $dximself = "himself", $mother = "father", $goddess = "god", $dlady = "lord", $title = "keeper"]]…
You remember… stone gazebos… canals of water… herons wading in amongst the fish… reeds whispering in the breeze… blue, green and pink… water lilies bursting in the summer… cats lounging on the stonework while initiates meditate nearby… the symbolism of the goddess [[Nabhuti|ch121e3][$faction = "Judiciary", $deity = "Nabhuti", $dgender = "f", $title = "warden"]]…
You remember… tall stone monoliths… bonfires burning through the night… ravens darting among the trees… endless fields of rustling heather… grey, yellow and red… flaming chrysanthemums in the autumn… dogs howling across the moors in the dark… the symbolism of the god [[Osnach|ch121e4][$faction = "Gatherers", $deity = "Osnach", $dgender = "m", $dxhe = "he", $dxir = "him", $dxirs = "his", $dxim = "his", $dximself = "himself", $mother = "father", $goddess = "god", $dlady = "lord", $title = "seeker"]]…<<nobr>>
<<set $deity to either("Accharina", "Uchenqe", "Nabhuti", "Osnach")>>
<<if ($deity eq "Uchenqe") or ($deity eq "Osnach")>>
<<set $dgender to "m">>
<<set $dxhe to "he">>
<<set $dxir to "him">>
<<set $dxirs to "his">>
<<set $dxim to "his">>
<<set $dximself to "himself">>
<<set $mother to "father">>
<<set $goddess to "god">>
<<set $dlady to "lord">>
<<else>>
<<set $dgender to "f">>
<<endif>>
<<endnobr>>\
A dull throbbing pain anchors itself somewhere behind your eyes as you stare fruitlessly at the floor, blocking out anything else that you might be able to think about.
After attempting to tolerate the awful sensation for nearly a minute, you eventually give up and cover your eyes with your hands, groaning in defeat.
“I really don’t think I can come up with anything right now,” you say wearily, returning your focus to Our Lady.
She frowns slightly, though she doesn’t press you to try harder. “Your memories may still come back, if you give them some time. We don’t really understand what effect the waters of the Black River will have on the living yet.”
The captain takes another swig from one of her decanters, exhaling sharply. “I suppose it was too much to ask for clarity about something like this.”
Our Lady gingerly touches a fingertip to her forehead, almost as if she’s trying to extract her thoughts from inside by hand. “I believe our next step should be to introduce $pcname to the other survivors, particularly the one who is awake already. Given the emergence of the flash of memory regarding the ritual that $xhe3 described earlier, perhaps the sight of other people who were there will trigger more memories to come to the surface.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]A grateful smile spreads over Our Lady’s face, her golden eyes glinting. “Thank you, $pcname. The sooner we find out what’s going on, the quicker we can help you return to your regular life.”
You give a weak smile in response. “I have to admit, the idea of putting all of this mess behind me is a very tempting one.”
“To you and me both,” the captain mutters, returning to her seat. “Well, good luck, then. Let me know if you figure out how to make it all go away.”
You nod, and Our Lady motions delicately with one hand towards the door. “I will lead you to them. They’re staying in the crews’ quarters for now.”
She follows close behind you as you exit back out onto the deck of the //Wisp//, and you notice to your surprise that there isn’t much more airflow out here than there was in the cabin. Among the Underworld’s many quirks, you’re not sure that a lack of strong winds should be the most jarring to you, but it still feels odd to realise. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to the conditions down here.
Maybe if you’re lucky, you won’t have to.
“This way,” Our Lady says quietly, lifting the hem of her skirts just a little as she makes her way down the stairs nearby.
You trail after her, thankful that she moves at least a little slower than Soillere. Idly, you glance around as you walk, looking for him, but the //Will-o’-Wisp// truly is a grand old thing, with three masts that you can see from here and multiple decks on various levels obscuring your view. All in all, you think she must be nearly fifty metres long; crewing her must have been a logistical nightmare to manage when she was in her prime.
You descend another level and then cross over to a small hatch in the floor, with a ladder peeking out of the top of it. Our Lady barely hesitates before beginning the climb down, but you regretfully place a hand over your sore ribs, already dreading your own turn on the ladder. A horrible stabbing pain accosts you as you bend down to grab hold of the top rung, but to your surprise, it isn’t enough to cause you to need to stop.
Whatever it is you do while you’re not having amnesia, it apparently seems to have prepared you to handle taking a beating.
[[You’re not sure if that’s encouraging or not.|ch1tol02]]“I don’t know if I have the mental faculties for any more bewildering conversations at the moment… but I might still recognise one or both survivors. And I’d like to do what I can.”
Both women inspect you for a moment, and you wonder briefly if Our Lady is going to object to your suggestion. Eventually, however, she smiles thinly at you, and turns back to face the captain.
“I suppose I will speak to the other survivor on my own, then.”
The captain grunts in response, picking up her hat from the table and settling it on her head. “Let me know if they tell you anything that can help untangle this mess.”
She moves past you, motioning for you to follow as she opens the door. You return to the deck of the //Wisp//, and you notice to your surprise that there isn’t much more airflow out here than there was in the cabin. Among the Underworld’s many quirks, you’re not sure that a lack of strong winds should be the most jarring to you, but it still feels odd to realise. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to the conditions down here.
“Come on,” the captain says brusquely, as she makes her way down the stairs nearby.
You hurry after her, wincing, as you find that she moves even faster than Soillere. Idly, you glance around as you walk, looking for him, but the //Will-o’-Wisp// truly is a grand old thing, with three masts that you can see from here and multiple decks on various levels obscuring your view. All in all, you think she must be nearly fifty metres long; crewing her must have been a logistical nightmare to manage when she was in her prime.
Thankfully, it doesn’t seem as though you have all that much further to go to reach your destination. Once down the stairs, the captain leads you directly towards a door behind them, taking you into the midships area that supports the deck above you.
“In here,” she says curtly, waving an arm at a nearby door; it doesn’t seem like she plans to stay with you.
[[In fairness, it’s not as though you’re likely to be doing anything exciting.|ch1a102]]You figure that while you’re getting your bearings, you should probably meet everyone that you can. You’ll no doubt spend a lot of time consulting with the survivors, especially once the second one wakes up, but if you don’t talk to the person you managed to glimpse watching you earlier, you might not remember to get around to it.
The captain frowns, seeming confused by your question. “Who, Vanator? Yeah, he’s around. He doesn’t have anything to do with any of this, though.”
“I’m feeling pretty rough, but I’d like to get as many of the introductions out of the way as possible,” you tell her, rubbing a hand over your face wearily. “So that I don’t forget.”
Both women inspect you for a moment, and you wonder briefly if Our Lady is going to object to your suggestion. Eventually, however, she smiles thinly at you, and turns back to face the captain.
“I suppose I will speak to the other survivor on my own, then.”
The captain grunts in response, picking up her hat from the table and settling it on her head. “Let me know if they tell you anything that can help untangle this mess.”
She moves past you, motioning for you to follow as she opens the door. You return to the deck of the //Wisp//, and you notice to your surprise that there isn’t much more airflow out here than there was in the cabin. Among the Underworld’s many quirks, you’re not sure that a lack of strong winds should be the most jarring to you, but it still feels odd to realise. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to the conditions down here.
“Come on,” the captain says brusquely, as she makes her way down the stairs nearby.
You hurry after her, wincing, as you find that she moves even faster than Soillere. Idly, you glance around as you walk, looking for him, but the //Will-o’-Wisp// truly is a grand old thing, with three masts that you can see from here and multiple decks on various levels obscuring your view. All in all, you think she must be nearly fifty metres long; crewing her must have been a logistical nightmare to manage when she was in her prime.
You follow along behind the captain as she walks determinedly towards the prow, propelled mostly by the thought that eventually, when you get where you’re going, you’ll be able to stop.
[[Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…|ch1v101a]]Both women inspect you for a moment, and you wonder briefly if Our Lady is going to object to your suggestion. Eventually, however, she smiles thinly at you, and turns back to face the captain.
“I suppose I will speak to the other survivor on my own, then.”
The captain grunts in response, picking up her hat from the table and settling it on her head. “Let me know if they tell you anything that can help untangle this mess.”
She moves past you, motioning for you to follow as she opens the door. You return to the deck of the //Wisp//, Our Lady filing out behind you, and you notice to your surprise that there isn’t much more airflow out here than there was in the cabin. Among the Underworld’s many quirks, you’re not sure that a lack of strong winds should be the most jarring to you, but it still feels odd to realise. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to the conditions down here.
“Come on,” the captain says brusquely, as she makes her way down the stairs nearby.
You go to hurry after her, but pause for a second before heading down the stairs, feeling something strange in the air. It’s like a kind of pressure is building… as if you’re sensing the distant prickle of lightning in the prelude to a storm, only without the damp smell of rain.
Suddenly, you hear someone cry out, from towards the bow of the ship. “Captain! It’s happening again!”
Bettina’s head snaps up in alarm at the words, and she spins to face the hole in the sky, grabbing onto her hat to keep it on. You follow her gaze, but barely have time to notice a shimmer of light on the illusory ceiling before the loudest sound you’ve ever heard erupts above you, bringing you to your knees. It sounds a bit like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half… if the thunderclap was going off an inch above your head and the piece of paper was inside your skull.
Even though you know it’s no use, you clap<<if $race eq "thym’ani">> two of<<endif>> your hands over your ears - you can’t help it. Dimly, you think that behind the clamour, you might be able to hear someone screaming.
It’s possible that it’s you.
<<if ($amnesia eq true) or ($turmoil > 50)>>
Your head is swimming… it feels like your entire nervous system is attempting to leave via your ears despite your best efforts. You can barely see anything, black dots circling your vision like a flock of crows, and even kneeling seems to be too much for you. The //Wisp’s// blackened timbers are starting to look pretty inviting…
<<endif>>
[[Gods, what you wouldn’t give for some rest right about now…|ch123]]// - bees buzz lazily between the avenues of flowering citrus trees, stopping occasionally to inspect a particularly tempting bloom. All around you, a group of novitiates is busy tending the earth; some are digging furrows for herbs along the sides of the path, while others are piling mulch at the feet of the ardently-blossoming fruit trees, and yet more are turning over the soil in nearby garden beds, preparing it for the planting of seeds.//
//You pass them all by, nodding respectfully to the tutor who is overseeing them, and continue through the gardens until you come to the rotunda where the Preceptor is waiting. Sunlight does its best to break through the fragrant drapery of honeysuckle clinging to the rotunda’s cedar frame, the dappled light playing across the Preceptor’s modest white habit like a gambolling fawn. They look up from their book to see you, and smile in greeting - //
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain inspecting you closely, but you just shrug, leaning back in your chair.
“I remember visiting an orchard once?” you offer, your voice full of feigned apology, as Our Lady watches you carefully.
She frowns slightly, though she doesn’t press you to try harder. “Your memories may still come back, if you give them some time. We don’t really understand what effect the waters of the Black River will have on the living yet.”
The captain takes another swig from one of her decanters, exhaling sharply. “I suppose it was too much to ask for clarity about something like this.”
Our Lady gingerly touches a fingertip to her forehead, almost as if she’s trying to extract her thoughts from inside by hand. “I believe our next step should be to introduce $pcname to the other survivors, particularly the one who is awake already. Given the emergence of the flash of memory regarding the ritual that $xhe3 described earlier, perhaps the sight of other people who were there will trigger more memories to come to the surface.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]// - you pause in the middle of the gently swaying rope bridge to raise your eyes to the skies, marvelling in the pristine blackness sprinkled with stars, unmarred out here by the lights that fill every city. Aside from the faint purple glow of witchlights dotting the temple complex and painting the buildings in muted shades of violet and midnight blue, all there is to see by is the silver glow of the moon.//
//A cold evening breeze whispers by you as you stand there, catching on your clothing like a playful child. You take a moment to savour it, breathing it in; you’ve been gone for far too long. It’s not exactly unusual for your duties to take you away from your home here in the mountains, but you briefly consider asking the Magistrate to allow you some leeway on not having to be away for so long a period of time. You’re starting to - //
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain inspecting you closely, but you just shrug, leaning back in your chair.
“I remember visiting the mountains once?” you offer, your voice full of feigned apology, as Our Lady watches you carefully.
She frowns slightly, though she doesn’t press you to try harder. “Your memories may still come back, if you give them some time. We don’t really understand what effect the waters of the Black River will have on the living yet.”
The captain takes another swig from one of her decanters, exhaling sharply. “I suppose it was too much to ask for clarity about something like this.”
Our Lady gingerly touches a fingertip to her forehead, almost as if she’s trying to extract her thoughts from inside by hand. “I believe our next step should be to introduce $pcname to the other survivors, particularly the one who is awake already. Given the emergence of the flash of memory regarding the ritual that $xhe3 described earlier, perhaps the sight of other people who were there will trigger more memories to come to the surface.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]// - the flat-bottomed boat glides gently through the water of the canal, barely disturbing the fragrant carpet of lotuses all around you on its way. Careful to keep your motions delicate, you dip your oar back into the water and propel yourself forwards again, listening to the jabirus squawk and squabble in the distance. If you weren’t so late, you might be tempted to stay awhile…//
//The pastel tapestry of sunrise is already hung prominently in the sky by the time your boat brings you to the steps of the main temple complex, and you spring out onto the stone stairs with practiced ease. The two wardens stationed at either end of the arched doorway bow low as you approach, but you can barely manage to slow your rushed pace in order to acknowledge the gesture. You don’t want to know what the Judicar will do if you - //
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain inspecting you closely, but you just shrug, leaning back in your chair.
“I remember visiting the wetlands once?” you offer, your voice full of feigned apology, as Our Lady watches you carefully.
She frowns slightly, though she doesn’t press you to try harder. “Your memories may still come back, if you give them some time. We don’t really understand what effect the waters of the Black River will have on the living yet.”
The captain takes another swig from one of her decanters, exhaling sharply. “I suppose it was too much to ask for clarity about something like this.”
Our Lady gingerly touches a fingertip to her forehead, almost as if she’s trying to extract her thoughts from inside by hand. “I believe our next step should be to introduce $pcname to the other survivors, particularly the one who is awake already. Given the emergence of the flash of memory regarding the ritual that $xhe3 described earlier, perhaps the sight of other people who were there will trigger more memories to come to the surface.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]// - you purse your lips impatiently and begin to bounce up and down on the balls of your feet as you look out over the field of gorse before you. The heat of the fire at your back is comforting, almost like a physical presence. Sighing, you lean heavily against the standing stone beside you and try to calm down. Your eyes return to constantly scanning the horizon, watching for any sign of your huntmaster; she should be back by now, you know it.//
//The lurid colours of sunset stain the sky like dyes swirling in water, slowly draining away as time ticks on. The unending gorse flowers seem to glow in the light of the dying sun, the little pinpricks of yellow glinting like each one holds a tiny flame of its own, a sea of little beacons. You wait until night falls, until no light remains but your bonfire, and then gather your things to leave. The Sentinel is going to have a fit - //
You look up to find Our Lady and the captain inspecting you closely, but you just shrug, leaning back in your chair.
“I remember visiting the moors once?” you offer, your voice full of feigned apology, as Our Lady watches you carefully.
She frowns slightly, though she doesn’t press you to try harder. “Your memories may still come back, if you give them some time. We don’t really understand what effect the waters of the Black River will have on the living yet.”
The captain takes another swig from one of her decanters, exhaling sharply. “I suppose it was too much to ask for clarity about something like this.”
Our Lady gingerly touches a fingertip to her forehead, almost as if she’s trying to extract her thoughts from inside by hand. “I believe our next step should be to introduce $pcname to the other survivors, particularly the one who is awake already. Given the emergence of the flash of memory regarding the ritual that $xhe3 described earlier, perhaps the sight of other people who were there will trigger more memories to come to the surface.”
“That may have to wait,” the captain interrupts, looking you over critically. “<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>$verb_re1 looking a bit the worse for wear right now - no offence.”
You can’t really decide whether you take any or not.
Our Lady, on the other hand, shifts somewhat uncomfortably on the spot. “<<print $xhe2.toUpperFirst()>> only just woke up. We should be consulting with the other survivor who has awoken, at the very least, before doing anything else. We can’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Not everybody has no need of sleep,” the captain mutters under her breath, but she stands up anyway, brushing down her coat. “It’s up to you, $pcname. Do you want to keep picking at the puzzle, or would you rather I call Soillere and have him find you a room?”
You mull the question over for a few moments.
[[“I wouldn’t mind seeing if the survivor who is awake can provide us any answers.”|ch1tol01]]
[[“Actually, I would rather check on the survivor who hasn’t woken up yet.”|ch1a101]]
[[“There’s another living person on the ship, isn’t there? I think I saw them earlier.”|ch1v101]]
[[“I think I would appreciate being able to lie down, honestly.”|ch122]]<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia leads the way, which you are grateful for, and then clambers up the ladder ahead of you<<if $touchaverse eq false>>, holding out a hand to help you up after them<<endif>>. You emerge onto the deck in the midst of a large group of incorporeal crewmen, more than you would have thought were even on board. Tehemia, making a displeased face, fights their way through the crowd towards the bow, trying to find out what everyone is looking at.
“Have there been any others?” you hear one of them asking, and you realise that it’s the hole in the sky that is the focus of their attention.
<<elseif visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>By the time the two of you make it out to the deck, it’s clear that everyone else has also had the same idea. There’s dozens of incorporeal crewmen crowding along the bow, hustling each other out of the way in an attempt to get a look at something; Annos, seeing them for the first time, makes a faint noise that seems to convey an emotion exactly halfway between disbelief and concern.
You know the feeling.
“Have there been any others?” you hear one of the crew asking, and you realise that what they’re staring at is the hole in the sky.
<<elseif visited ("ch122") > 0>>The sound ends as abruptly as it started, but it’s replaced immediately by the thudding of feet and shouting of voices. By the time your ears have stopped ringing, the deck is packed with people, dozens of incorporeal crewmen hustling each other out of the way in an attempt to get a look at the sky.
“Have there been any others?” you hear one of them asking, as you try to pull all the pieces of your mind back together.
They must think that more people are about to fall through… you should probably try and help, if you can.
<<if ($amnesia eq true) or ($turmoil > 50)>>
Our Lady appears before you suddenly, holding out a hand to help you up; she’s the only one on the deck not looking at the sky right now.<<if $touchaverse eq true>> Grateful as you are for her offer of assistance, you’re happier to heave yourself to your feet with the aid of a nearby barrel. She honestly looks a little relieved as she retracts her hand, and you realise that she must feel roughly the same about physical contact as you do.<<else>> Grateful, you take her hand - you’re less surprised by the unique texture of her skin this time - and feel your mouth drop open in surprise as she effortlessly lifts you onto your feet as though you’re as light as a feather.<<endif>><<endif>>
<<else>>The sound ends as abruptly as it started, but it’s replaced immediately by the thudding of feet and shouting of voices. <<if ($amnesia eq true) or ($turmoil > 50)>><<if $touchaverse eq true>>You hear <<if $vanator > 26>>Vanator<<else>>Soillere<<endif>> swearing under his breath somewhere above you, and you swallow thickly, managing to get some moisture back into your throat.
“I’m okay,” you tell him, croakily, and though he makes a noise like he doesn’t believe you for a second, he does seem to take your word for it, leaving quietly.
You take a few deep breaths, gathering your strength, and haul yourself to your feet. <<else>>You gather your strength enough to clench a fist in the fabric of <<if $vanator > 26>>Vanator’s coat<<else>>Soillere’s shirt<<endif>>, taking a deep breath.
“I’m okay,” you manage to say, as he helps you to your feet.
<<if $vanator > 26>>“You are //not//,” he replies sharply, guiding you towards a nearby barrel. “Stay here and try not to fall over again.”
<<else>>“If you say so,” he replies, sounding like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “Try not to fall over again, would you?”
<<endif>>
<<endif>><<endif>>By the time your ears have stopped ringing, the deck is packed with people, dozens of incorporeal crewmen hustling each other out of the way in an attempt to get a look at the sky.
“Have there been any others?” you hear one of them asking, as you try to pull all the pieces of your mind back together.
They must think that more people are about to fall through… you should probably try and help, if you can.
<<endif>>
Like everyone else, you turn your eyes to the illusory sky. You can’t really see any obvious differences from when you last looked at it, but then again, you don’t know what it’s //supposed// to look like in the first place. The more you stare at it, though, the more you get the feeling that something //is// slightly off. It doesn’t seem as… dormant as it did before. It feels… hungry.
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>
Suddenly, Vanator cries out wordlessly, in what seems like horror.
He’s<<else>>
Suddenly, you hear someone cry out wordlessly, in what seems like horror. They’re alive, whoever they are - even in the middle of a crowd of dead crewmembers, the solidity and colour of a living person is unmistakeable. You think it looks like the person you saw watching you earlier, when you were talking with Soillere… but they’re wearing all black, and their face is covered by a cloth mask, so you can’t tell much else about them.
They’re<<endif>> pointing at something off the bow, not in the sky but nearer to the ground. Squinting, you can just about manage to see a long, odd, smudgy kind of blob, as grey and colourless as practically everything else around you, being pulled upwards from among the strange trees, straight towards the hole.
You feel the bottom drop out of your stomach when you realise, as the object ascends higher into the sky, that it’s //person-shaped//. It’s somebody’s //soul//.
It disappears upwards, pulled back up into the living world. Soon, another one follows.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
Beside you, Annos is trembling, seemingly overcome with shock.
“What…” he manages to gasp out, collapsing back against the railing of the stairs behind him. “What is this?”
<<endif>><<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>
“This can’t be happening!” Tehemia exclaims, as more and more souls from across the horizon begin winding their way through the sky. “They- it’s impossible! No one can remove souls from the Underworld! It’s //sacrilege//!”
You can tell from the cracking in their voice that they’re extremely upset, moreso than you would have expected from them based on your impression of them so far.
<<else>>
“This can’t be happening!” someone<<if visited ("ch1v101") eq 0>> else<<endif>> exclaims, as more and more souls from across the horizon begin winding their way through the sky. “They- it’s impossible! No one can remove souls from the Underworld! It’s //sacrilege//!”
They seem to<<if visited ("ch1v101") eq 0>> also<<endif>> be alive, but you’ve never seen clothing like what they’re wearing before. You think maybe that they’re the other survivor that the captain and Our Lady mentioned; whoever they are, from the cracking in their voice, you can tell that they’re extremely upset.
<<endif>>
Given what’s going on, though, it’s hard to say that it’s unjustified.
[[You feel the same-creating a hole into the Underworld is bad enough, but this is spitting in the face of the entire cycle of life and death. This is truly blasphemous.|ch124a][$faith += 4, $priority = "justice"]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+4 to Faith//]<<endif>>
[[The terrible damage that this could do to untold souls fills your heart with dread. There must be something that you can do to help!|ch124e][$decency += 2, $priority = "peace"]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[Right now the “why”s and the “how”s and the “what could they possibly hope to accomplish”es are weighing on you a lot more heavily than the “how dare they”s.|ch124b][$turmoil += 2, $priority = "answers"]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Turmoil//]<<endif>>
[[Aren’t the gods supposed to keep this sort of thing from happening? Do they actually even do anything, if they can’t prevent something like this?|ch124c][$faith -= 4, $priority = "intervention"]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-4 to Faith//]<<endif>>
[[You’ve got to get out of here. You’ve GOT to get out of this fucking place, before it’s too late.|ch124d][$turmoil += 4, $priority = "escape"]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+4 to Turmoil//]<<endif>>
[[This looks like a whole heapload of somebody else’s problem. You just want to get yourself home safely and put this all behind you.|ch124f][$decency -= 2, $priority = "muggins"]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency//]<<endif>>By the time you reach the bottom of the ladder, the dim light granted by the sky above has been obscured, and almost everything is in darkness. You think at first that Our Lady must have lit a lantern, judging by the gentle golden glow you can see against the wall, until you turn to face her and realise that the light is being given off by her luminescent eyes.
You try your best not to look shocked, but the apologetic smile she gives you makes it seem like you didn’t do that great of a job. You can’t really blame yourself, though; you’ve never heard of //anyone// with eyes that give off their own light.
<<if $faction eq "Hallowed Heart">>
Down here, with the shadows softening the edges of her face, and her ochre skin burnished by the amber light, a very strange thought seizes you. Maybe it’s some kind of a quirk of your amnesia, but… a memory flashes in your mind of the cathedral you served at, where a vast portrait of your goddess Accharina was hung, taking up almost the entirety of one stone wall. There was a thin veil covering Her face in the portrait, but - you’re almost scared to think the words - Our Lady’s face bears a striking resemblance to the face of Accharina in that painting.
Our Lady seems to notice you staring at her, and turns away in seeming embarrassment, the lamplight glow of her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
<<endif>>
She begins walking in the direction of the midships, and you’re left with little choice but to follow her again, as she takes the only light down here with her.
“You seem to be handling all of this quite well,” you say, your thoughts returning to the matter at hand.
She laughs. “How so? I don’t have any answers or advice to offer anyone… not even enough to make a plan.”
“You’re handling things better than me and the captain,” you retort, shrugging, and she snorts good-naturedly.
“Perhaps. But Bettina thrives in situations where decisive action of any kind can produce a positive outcome. I’m sure she’ll seem like she’s handling things much better than I am if this somehow gets any worse.”
“How could it possibly be any worse?” you ask, incredulous. “There’s a hole in the world leading to the Underworld and a bunch of people fell through it!”
She turns to face you for a moment, a wry smile on her lips. “Hopefully we will never find out.”
“Still,” you continue, sighing. “I’m impressed with the way that you manage to discuss the kind of horrifying sacrificial ritual that we seem to be dealing with and keep from descending into panic.”
She pauses in her stride, golden light playing over the walls ahead of you as her eyes flit back and forth.
“It isn’t always possible,” she admits, after a brief, but heavy, silence. “I’ve never seen anything precisely like this, but similar things - blood rituals, using people as sacrifices - I’ve dealt with some before. Enough to know that if I allow myself to feel //anything// about everything that’s going on, I’ll be rendered completely unable to function. My lack of reaction isn’t a feat borne of skill or experience, but one of necessity.”
[[“As long as it helps. Though we’re all in the same boat here, if you ever need to talk.”|ch1tol03a][$ourlady += 2, $decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>
[[“I can hardly blame you. I don’t know that there’s any right or wrong way to respond to all this.”|ch1tol03b][$ourlady += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>
[[“It’s a bit cold of you, to be honest. It makes you come across as though you don’t care.”|ch1tol03c][$ourlady -= 2, $honesty += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Honesty, -2 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>She turns to face you fully, mirth shining in the depths of her eyes. “The same //boat//, hm?”
“Oh-” you splutter, embarrassed. “Oh, that… that was completely unintentional, I assure you. I would never make that bad of a joke willingly. At least not that I’m admitting.”
She laughs at you, her luminous eyes soft despite all the darkness around you both. “Terrible pun or not, I appreciate the offer. I’m just not sure that it will help as of yet. Maybe when all of this is over…”
Her voice trails off and she turns to look at the wall once more, and you see, for the first time, a crack in the façade of the calm mask that she always seems to wear. In the brief moment before she regains her composure, you see all manner of emotions come tumbling out; everything from fear and doubt to regret and weariness seems to flicker across her face, all in a single instant.
She turns back to face you and smiles, everything in place again. Strangely, or perhaps not, she doesn’t seem all that bothered by her fleeting lapse in serenity - you wonder if that momentary glimpse into everything churning under the surface of her calm demeanour was all she needed. Or perhaps all that she felt she could allow herself.
“I feel like it should be me making this offer to you,” she says lightly, amused. “You are the one most affected, after all.”
[[She looks beautiful when she smiles…|ch1tol03a1][$ourladyflirt += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt
[[It’s hard not to be touched by her compassion, especially given what you know she’s feeling right now…|ch1tol03a2][$ourladyflirt += 1, $ourlady += 1, $ourladyharden -= 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady, -1 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I think we’re all going to need each other’s help to get through this. There’s no point in keeping score.”|ch1tol03a3][$ourladyharden -= 2, $decency += 1, $ourlady += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Our Lady, -2 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“‘Most affected’ is kind of a hard term to quantify when you’re dealing with something like a hole in the world.”|ch1tol03a4][$ourlady += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>
[[“I suppose I understand where you’re coming from, now that the offer is turned back on me. I don’t know what I would really say about anything either.”|ch1tol03a5][$ourladyharden += 1, $ourlady += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady, +1 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>She lets out a regretful sigh, nodding in agreement. “I feel the same way… none of the obvious courses of action to take seem like they will help much. I’m left to believe that the best thing any of us can do right now is simply to respond, and discern what the right way to do so would have been later, when things become more clear.”
“In the absence of any real direction, doing whatever you can to look busy is always a good option in my experience,” you reply, grinning.
She laughs at you, her luminous eyes soft despite all the darkness around you both. “If there were anyone in a position to judge our actions but the gods, I might agree with you.”
You shrug as her eyes return to the path ahead of you, the golden light slipping away. “I mean, They’re down here too, aren’t They? If we really need information, maybe we should just go and get it.”
She pauses mid-stride, mouth hanging open in shock. She turns to face the wall, still unmoving, and you become acutely aware for the first time that the unwavering calm that she has been projecting almost the entire time you’ve known her is nothing but a mask. You watch as she attempts to hold it in place, though surprise, confusion and curiosity all fighting at once seem like they might almost be enough to cause a crack in its surface.
After a long moment, she turns back to face you and smiles, the mask firmly settled once more. “Honestly? If neither of the other survivors can remember anything, that may indeed be the wisest course of action to take. People down here don’t usually ask Them to intercede directly, but… this may be something of a special case. I’ll certainly keep the idea in mind.”
[[She looks beautiful when she smiles…|ch1tol03b1][$ourladyflirt += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt
[[You have to admire her ability to roll with all the punches…|ch1tol03b2][$ourladyflirt += 1, $ourlady += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>
[[“I’d be more than happy to put all of this in Their hands so that we can get on with processing it emotionally. Somewhere very far away.”|ch1tol03b3][$ourladyharden -= 1, $ourlady += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady, -1 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m sure They know what They’re doing, but I’d give anything for a bit of guidance right now.”|ch1tol03b4][$faith += 1, $turmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Turmoil, +1 to Faith//]<<endif>>
[[“It would be nice if SOMEONE had answers. At this point I don’t even care who.”|ch1tol03b5][$ourladyharden += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>She stiffens immediately, to an almost comical degree; you’re given the brief, surreal impression that she may have been turned to stone, before she clasps her hands together tightly in front of her, breaking the illusion.
“That’s more or less what I was worried you were going to say when you brought up this topic of conversation,” she answers, her voice carefully kept even.
You stand there in silence for a few seconds, wondering how to respond to that, while Our Lady’s amber gaze focusses determinedly on the floor at your feet, wavering back and forth a little as she seems to do the same thing as you. You notice that her hands are trembling slightly despite their firm grasp on each other, and you become acutely aware for the first time that the unwavering calm that she has been projecting almost the entire time you’ve known her is nothing but a mask. You watch as she attempts to hold it in place, but your words seem like they may have been enough to cause a crack in its surface.
“I’m- it’s just that I’m going to be much more help like this than if I go to pieces,” she adds eventually, her eyes returning to your face.
Her expression is more defiant now - it’s different than the subdued emotions you’ve seen from her previously, but it’s also clear that she’s displeased with your remark.
[[“I’m sorry. I know everyone copes differently… I guess I’m just a bit sensitive right now.”|ch1tol03c1][$ourladyharden -= 1, $ourlady += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Our Lady, -1 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“It just makes it a little harder to deal with everything, having to wonder if you think I’m overreacting since you’re so calm.”|ch1tol03c2][$ourlady -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>
[[“I don’t mean necessarily that I think you don’t care, just that it’s the impression you’re giving off. Thought you might want to know.”|ch1tol03c3][$ourladyharden += 2, $ourlady -= 2, $decency -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Our Lady, +2 to Our Lady’s Harden stat//]<<endif>>You almost don’t manage to process her words, you’re so caught off-guard in the sight of her. There’s warmth in the depths of her strange golden eyes, and the curve of her smile seems to soften all the sharp edges of her face. She doesn’t look like a different person, exactly, but she looks… younger, perhaps. Less weighed down by something.
Whatever it is, it’s impossible not to notice how beautiful she is.
She seems to notice you admiring her, judging by the way her eyebrows raise slightly as she returns your gaze.
“I’m managing so far,” you say eventually, returning her smile. “But I’ll keep your offer in mind if I ever find myself getting overwhelmed.”
Her eyes linger on your face for another second or two, and the strange sensation of light focussed on your features makes you feel a bit like a moth being drawn towards a flame.
“Perhaps we should continue on to speak to the human survivor,” she suggests eventually, looking away and breaking the moment for you.
You take a deep breath, trying to gather up all your senses again. “Lead the way.”
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]The memory of all that turmoil on her face is fresh in your mind, but her statement nevertheless seems sincere, rather than just being a deflection. However much trouble she’s personally having dealing with everything that’s going on… she’s still more concerned about you.
“I’m managing so far,” you reply, smiling back at her. “It helps to have people around who are so willing to do whatever they can to aid me.”
Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, and you hold her gaze for a moment, hoping that she understands that you’re talking about her. Silence reigns for a few seconds, and you’re treated to another tiny crack in her tranquil veneer; this time, however, the emotions that come spilling out are less burdensome ones. Surprise seems foremost, though you also spot embarrassment, relief, and the most ephemeral flash of a shy smile that you’ve ever seen in your life.
“I’m glad that we can be of help,” she says finally, eyes darting away to play over the floor ahead of you.
You wonder how conscious she is of the obviousness of where her attention lies as you watch the golden lights dance like fireflies in the darkness.
“Shall we?” you ask, motioning with one arm to continue, and she nods silently, seeming grateful.
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She meets your gaze for a few seconds, several more emotions flickering across her face too fast for you to catch.
“You’re right. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had anyone to really confide in. I suppose I will have to get used to having the option available again.”
You raise an eyebrow as the two of you resume walking. “You don’t confide in the captain?”
She smiles softly. “Bettina has her own problems to deal with. I trust her, certainly, but she doesn’t always cope well with change, particularly when it comes to what is going on in the world above. It feels wrong to burden her with my troubles, considering everything she’s been through.”
“Hopefully between the three of us survivors, we’ll be able to help both of you,” you say, and she turns to look at you again, gratitude shining in her golden eyes.
“And we you, of course.”
“We’re already exceedingly lucky that the //Wisp// was even here to catch us,” you point out, grinning. “But I’m sure none of us will turn away any extra aid.”
She motions towards the door you’re approaching, seeming far more relaxed than before. “Let’s see what we can find out, then, shall we?”
You’re grateful that it seems you’ll be able to stop walking soon, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She laughs lightly, the sound echoing in the long hallway. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”
“If anything, I think we both should probably be deferring the title to the still-unconscious survivor in the surgery,” you add, and she resumes walking, her lips still curled into a smile.
“No doubt. I have to admit that I’m anxious to find out what, if anything, they remember. The ship’s doctor seems confident that they will indeed wake up, but after the one we pulled from the river who could barely remember how to breathe… I’m trying to keep my expectations realistic.”
You shudder, trying not to think about how easily that could have been you, before your brain catches up with your emotions in processing her words.
“The ship has a doctor?”
She smiles again, turning her gaze on you for a moment. “Oh, yes. He was part of the original crew, as I understand it. I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime soon.”
You let out a sigh of relief, thinking of your aching rib. “That’s one piece of good news, at least.”
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She smiles thinly as you both continue walking. “Certainly nothing comes to mind that will be of any help. I’ll leave screaming at the sky for answers to other people, while I focus on doing what I can to try and fix things.”
You nod, amused by the mental image. “I don’t begrudge people their ways of coping, but while the fire is raging it’s my instinct to run for a bucket of water, rather than stand around talking about it.”
“It’s nice to know that you understand,” she replies, seeming to relax slightly. “I sometimes worry that I must come off as cold. I have just learned that it helps to put my emotions aside, in order to deal with whatever needs to be done.”
You find yourself wondering what she must have been through, to develop such a closed-off response to catastrophe as a learned behaviour… but, like everything else, it’s hardly the time to ask such questions. Especially when you have to wonder the same thing about yourself.
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]While you’re pondering that, you take a brief moment to inspect the dingy interior of the room, which does indeed look as far from lavish as you could conceivably imagine. For something labelled “quarters” it looks a lot more like a collection of hammocks hung from whatever poles they could be safely attached to.
Before you can comment on this, however, a diminutive, curly-haired head appears over the side of one of the hammocks, watching you. You can tell clearly by the bloom of colour in their sandy brown skin that the person peering at you inquisitively from beneath those chin-length curls is the survivor that you came here to speak to.
“Oh!” they exclaim, seeming to realise the same thing about you, before scrambling hurriedly out of their hammock. “You’re awake!”
With their feet on the ground, their short stature is even more obvious - they’re not much more than a metre and a half tall - but their arms are muscular enough to make the idea of teasing them about their height seem unwise. They have a wide, flat nose, and very forward-set brown eyes that disappear under their tumble of thick black curls as they cross their arms to inspect you just like you’re inspecting them.
Much of their bulk seems to be centred in their torso and arms, particularly the shoulders, but they seem solid enough all over, at least from what you can see. Their build looks a little like that of a swimmer, though the many scars that decorate their body tell you that swimming probably isn’t //all// they do.
Their clothing is unlike both what the antiquated crew of the //Wisp// is wearing and anything you remember from everyday life.
[[Do all people from the southern islands dress like this?|ch1tol05]]You almost don’t manage to process her words, you’re so caught off-guard by the sight of her. There’s warmth in the depths of her strange golden eyes, and the curve of her smile seems to soften all the sharp edges of her face. She doesn’t look like a different person, exactly, but she looks… younger, perhaps. Less weighed down by something.
Whatever it is, it’s impossible not to notice how beautiful she is.
She seems to notice you admiring her, judging by the way her eyebrows raise slightly as she returns your gaze.
“Glad I could be of assistance,” you respond finally, smiling back at her. “I’m always happy to offer zany solutions if you need them.”
Her eyes linger on your face for another second or two, and the strange sensation of light focussed on your features makes you feel a bit like a moth being drawn towards a flame.
“Perhaps we should continue on to speak to the human survivor,” she suggests eventually, looking away and breaking the moment.
You take a deep breath, trying to gather up all your senses again. “Lead the way.”
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]“See, this is exactly what I meant by you coping better than me,” you reply drily.
She raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s a good idea. It’s just also a terrifying one,” you answer with a shrug. “I feel like I’m going to need some time to prepare if I’m going to actually //meet// the gods //in person//. And maybe also a haircut.”
She laughs, golden light dancing across the walls around you as you feel her eyes sweep over your face in inspection. Whether for good reasons or bad, she seems to choose not to comment on the current state of your hair - at least for now.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that we’re lucky you’re around to handle this sort of thing for us,” you press, hoping to sell the compliment a little better this time. “Me in particular.”
Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, and you hold her gaze, smiling. Silence reigns for a few seconds, and you’re treated to the tiniest, briefest crack in her tranquil veneer; the shy smile that graces her lips momentarily is gone so quickly that you almost don’t believe you saw it.
“I’m glad to be of help,” she says finally, eyes dipping down to focus on the floor.
“Shall we?” you ask, after a short pause, motioning with one arm to continue, and she nods silently, seeming grateful.
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She laughs at the idea, her eyes distant, as though she’s imagining doing the same thing. “Given the circumstances, that would be one of the better outcomes for this situation that I could imagine.”
Your brain begins the task of idly running down a few of the other outcomes you can think of before you cut it off, firmly ignoring how bleak some of them seem at first glance. “Agreed. Though I’m not sure that I’m quite at the stage where I hope that the other two survivors have amnesia just to give us an excuse to pass this up the chain of command. Not yet, anyway.”
“I’m sure they both appreciate your concern,” she replies, sounding highly amused.
You shrug. “If not, I’m sure they will when we’re sitting on a beach somewhere, drinking the captain’s liquor- I mean, talking about our feelings like adults.”
She smiles as she begins walking again, seeming more relaxed than before, and you think fleetingly that while you haven’t exactly seen her composed mask //crack//, it definitely seems like she lets it drop a little sometimes. You wonder if it would be worth trying to encourage her to let it slip more often.
“Let’s go and find out whether you need to find us a beach, then,” she says, motioning to the door that you’re approaching.
You’re grateful that it seems you’ll be able to stop walking soon, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She smiles softly, motioning for the two of you to continue walking. “I’m sure They’re working on a solution as we speak. But if you feel your need for guidance is pressing enough, there is a small altar in the ship’s surgery that you could use. I’m sure the doctor wouldn’t mind your presence.”
A heavy wave of relief washes over you at her words, almost enough to make you keel over, before your brain catches up with your emotions in processing her words.
“The ship has a doctor?”
She smiles again, turning her gaze on you for a moment. “Oh, yes. He was part of the original crew, as I understand it. I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime soon.”
You rest a hand over your aching rib, feeling relieved once more. “That’s a few pieces of good news, at least.”
Galvanised by the thought of seeking guidance from the gods, you find yourself standing a little straighter as you follow her down the hallway towards a tall, thick door.
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She smiles thinly as you both continue walking. “I must admit, though I understand your desire for this to be over, I don’t think I’m capable of letting go of the chance to find what answers I can. I’d like to know what’s going on… even if the gods, or someone else, solve everything for us.”
You sigh, trying valiantly not to think about it all. “All I really want is to return to the world of the living, no worse for wear. I’m perfectly fine never knowing what caused all of this or how it was reversed.”
“I understand,” she replies, not unkindly. “Gathering information from those who were present when everything occurred is our best course of action for now, but I’m sure you’ll be able to concentrate on regaining your memories and returning home soon.”
Silence falls as you continue your walk down the corridor towards your destination, and she doesn’t seem inclined to break it. It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She takes a deep breath in, seeming to collect herself, and by the time she breathes out, the defiance on her face has been replaced by something that looks a little more like regret.
“I apologise as well,” she says, sighing. “I’m not… the best… at dealing with emotions. But given what you and the other survivors are surely also going through, I will try to be less closed-off, if I can.”
You smile at her, both glad that she accepted your apology, and grateful for the concession. “And I’ll keep your difficulties in mind in future, as well. I hope we can work together to sort out this mess regardless of our differences.”
She returns the smile, though hers is a little faint, and gestures for you to resume walking. “I don’t see why not.”
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]She takes a deep breath in, seeming to collect herself, and by the time she breathes out, the defiance that had been on her face is now gone, the mask firmly back in place.
“That wasn’t my intention,” she replies smoothly, turning away from you to resume walking. “I have nothing but sympathy for the situation that you and the other survivors find yourselves in. I’m merely trying to be of as much help as I can possibly be. Rest assured that I consider myself in no position to judge you.”
Though her words do reassure you a little, you can’t help but notice that she doesn’t seem to exactly be pleased with you after this topic of conversation. Maybe you can change that in the future, if you feel like reaching out to her… now that you know that she’s not judging you, it would certainly be easier on your end.
For now, however, it seems as though the discussion is over.
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]Her golden eyes flash in obvious irritation, but she draws in a deep breath, seeming to collect herself. By the time she breathes out again, the unemotional mask is firmly back in place, her every feature a perfect picture of serenity.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” she replies calmly, as she turns away to resume walking, and that appears to be the end of the discussion, as far as you can tell.
You’re unsure exactly how you feel about that; judging by her reaction, you can’t really be sure that she’ll change her demeanour at all. On the other hand, she’s not exactly picking a fight with you about it, so it’s hard to feel like you didn’t win in at least some fashion.
//Maybe she’ll just take some getting used to//, you think to yourself idly, as you follow her towards the door that seems to be your destination.
It doesn’t take much longer to get to where you’re going, which you can appreciate, given all of your bruises.
“The crew’s quarters are in here,” she informs you, as she knocks sharply on the door twice before opening it. “Those who sleep in here are usually new arrivals - the people who have been on the //Wisp// since her days in the living world all have their own rooms. Any crewmembers in here should still be able to help you if you need to find anything in particular on the ship, though.”
“Is this where I’ll be staying?” you ask, as she motions for you to enter ahead of her.
She shrugs. “That will be up to you and the captain to decide, I believe. The survivor we’re coming to see specifically requested quarters that were as ‘un-lavish’ as possible.”
[[An odd request…|ch1tol04]]<<set $codex116 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Tehemia Wawatai<</notify>>\
The survivor’s clothes seem to largely be made of a thick, almost waterproof-looking fabric, finely-woven and dyed in varying sheens of brown and gold. A skirt the colour of tree bark falls to their knees, over which rests a woven belt of cloth and hide, decorated with tokens and discs carved from bone and shell, while a loose, shapeless garment in a shimmering golden colour adorns their upper torso. Their thick stomach is bare, but layered strips of chestnut-coloured fabric have been tied onto their calves and forearms with leather thongs, creating leggings and bracers. Their feet are left bare also, sporting even more scars than the entire rest of their body.
Once they’re done looking you over, they rock back on their heels for a moment, eyeing Our Lady with what seems to be some degree of suspicion<<if $touchaverse eq false>>, before extending their hand towards you to shake<<endif>>.
“I’m Tehemia. Tehemia Wawatai. I use they/them pronouns.”
“Pleased to meet you,” you respond,<<if $touchaverse eq false>> shaking their offered hand and<<endif>> trying not to raise your eyebrows at their striking accent. “Call me $pcname.<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> Any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> She/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> He/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns for me.”
You glance inquiringly at Our Lady for a moment, but she just averts her gaze, shrugging. “I introduced myself earlier.”
Her specific wording, along with Tehemia’s attitude towards her, gives you pause for a moment. Did they not introduce themself to Our Lady and the captain? You wonder why… but the look in their eyes makes you think that you won’t get an answer while Our Lady is here with you.
“Do you have amnesia as well?” you ask them instead, and watch the muscles in their shoulders and upper chest slacken a little in relief at the question.
“A bit, yeah. I don’t remember how I got down here, but I can remember some things that I think are //fairly// recent. A few days ago, maybe.”
[[Well, at least it’s not just you…|ch1tol06]]“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” Our Lady tells them, politely. “$pcname has remembered a snippet of what we think is the event that caused the hole into the Underworld. We were wondering if perhaps you remembered something similar, or if seeing $xir3 would jog your memory about anything.”
“Haven’t remembered anything new so far,” Tehemia answers blithely, their eyes flashing over you in inspection once more. “What’s this event you remember, then?”
You dutifully recount the sliver of memory, which doesn’t get any less concerning with each retelling. At the mention of cultists, Tehemia’s eyes narrow, and their mouth pulls down into a hard frown. You almost think they’re going to say something, but they only gesture for you to continue.
“We think a ritual may have taken place,” Our Lady adds, once you are finished. “One that involved… live sacrifices.”
Somehow, Tehemia’s frown manages to deepen even more.
“Are you accusing us of-”
“No, not at all,” Our Lady interjects, holding up one hand in a placating gesture. “Given your injuries, and what $pcname remembers, there can be no doubt that you were the victims. We only wished to know if you remembered anything else that could be of help.”
Tehemia hesitates for a moment, fingers fidgeting with one of the shells attached to their belt. “The chanting… as soon as $pcname described the chanting, I could hear it in my head, like an echo. But it wasn’t in any language I could understand, so I doubt that’s any good to you.”
<<if ($amnesia eq true) or ($honesty < 50)>>
“It’s good to get confirmation of details in any case,” Our Lady replies, seeming unbothered. “Though I am curious to know… your short-term memory seems to be more intact than <<print $pcname>>’s. Can you think of anything about yourself personally that might be something that a cult member wishing to open a hole into the Underworld would seek in a sacrificial victim? Did you cross paths with any unsavoury characters, or study a particular type of magic, for example?”
Tehemia hums quietly, rocking back on their heels again, as their gaze flits between you and Our Lady. “I can’t say I know how much of a draw it would be for someone like that, but I do serve Osnach. The version of His temple that exists in the southern islands isn’t //exactly// the same as the one on the mainland, but I still technically have standing with the Gatherers.”
“Interesting…” Our Lady answers, golden light dancing across the ceiling as she leans her head back, her eyes lost in thought. “Servants of the gods as sacrifices? I could believe that such a ritual could require something like that… or that someone willing to commit such an atrocity might seek some out as part of a message they meant to send.”
Tehemia shudders at her words, and you have to admit that the thought doesn’t exactly make you feel warm inside, either.
<<else>>
“It’s good to get confirmation of details in any case,” Our Lady replies, seeming unbothered. “But on to the next question: $pcname has also remembered that they belong to the $faction, and we’re considering the idea that servants of the gods may have been deliberately targeted for… use… in the ritual. Do you by any chance serve one of the temples as well?”
Tehemia seems to perk up a little at that, pushing their hair back out of their eyes. “We don’t have the same organised version of the temples where I come from, but I serve Osnach!”
<<if $faction eq "Gatherers">>
You smile warmly at them, despite your surprise. “Well met, honoured sibling. Our paths cross in dark times.”
“I //thought// I saw fire in your eyes,” Tehemia replies, teeth flashing in a wide grin.
Our Lady, meanwhile, makes a thoughtful noise in her throat, tapping idly on her chin with one finger. “Hm. Perhaps it isn’t all of the gods, but merely Osnach? We will have to investigate further, I suppose.”
<<else>>
You incline your head gracefully in their direction. “Well met, seeker. I hope that our gods will grant us a swift resolution to this mess.”
They grin in response, tipping their head on the side slightly to get a better look at your face. “I could almost guess, you know! You have that look about you. I can practically see it in your eyes!”
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” you respond, laughing.
<<endif>><<endif>>
You don’t know how much it’s worth, but it is one more piece of the puzzle, at least.
“Please excuse me,” Our Lady says, after a brief pause, inclining her head at you both. “I should pass this information to the captain.”
[[Let’s hope it will help…|ch1tol07]]<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>>
“ and ” and ‘ and ’
<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Vigilance//]<<endif>>
@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too low<<endif>>.@@
<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>><<if $frc >= 10>> [//You have enough Force to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<else>> [//You do not have enough Force to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>><<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>>
@@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
"thym’ani"
<<message '+/-'>>
<<else>>@@.hidden;__Thym’an__@@
run memorize('codex201', true)
<<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Clockwork<</notify>>\
<<set $ending_1 to recall('ending_1')>>
/* comment */
pronoun counter: the next variable should be xhe1
it's >= and <= you moron
-------
CODING NOTES TO MYSELF, AN IDIOT WHO WILL FORGET
- i've deliberately held off on setting the $faction of amnesiacs so as not to mess with the character sheet info page. it needs to be set when the amnesiac finds out who they work for and not before. use $deity for faction-related programmingYou feel Tehemia bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet beside you as Our Lady leaves, obviously eager for her to go.
“Is something wrong?” you ask them, curious, once she’s closed the door behind her.
A multitude of emotions seem to flash across their face within just a few moments, but they apparently settle on smiling in as friendly a manner as they can muster. “So, cultists, then? Is that something that happens often here on the mainland? Or, well… up there, I suppose.”
You notice their obvious deflection of your question, but you aren’t quite sure what to do about it. You suppose that if they don’t feel comfortable opening up, it would be a bit of a lost cause to try and press them on the issue, especially considering that the two of you only just met.
“I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a cult before,” you say, in response to their inquiry. “Not that I remember, at least.”
Their eyes fix on your face for a few seconds, searching for something. When they look away, you’re not sure whether or not they found whatever it was that they were looking for.
“There was one that sailed out to our islands to live, when I was a child,” they say eventually, their voice soft. “Not this one that we’re talking about now, of course. The ones I remember are all gone. And while they were destructive, I don’t think they were organised enough to pull off something like this.”
“What happened to them?” you ask, your interest piqued.
It’s illegal to travel to the southern islands without being accompanied by a willing indigenous inhabitant… and that…s just travel, let alone trying to //live// there.
[[What did this cult think that they would accomplish?|ch1tol08]]“Our elders told them to leave,” Tehemia replies, shrugging. “They were destroying our forests, and hunting our game. They insisted that they had to be allowed to stay so that they could escape all of the temples on the mainland and ‘be free from the gods,’ but they wouldn’t abide by our laws either. When they refused to leave, we made sure that they did.”
You shake your head, thinking that it was no wonder you hadn’t heard of them. “They sound more like a bunch of entitled nuisances than what we’re dealing with here.”
“I never understood them, even when I was little,” Tehemia continues, leaning back against the pole behind them, their eyes faraway. “Osnach has always been - //is// - one of the most important people in my life. The only one I can truly be myself with.”
You look them over for a moment, trying to discern their age. They don’t seem to be much older than somewhere in their early twenties, but they also don’t look lacking in life experience, if their myriad of scars is any indication.
“Did you join the Gatherers young?” you ask, after a pause.
They flash you another grin, although this one is somewhat rueful. “As soon as I was old enough to be allowed out wandering by myself. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. I’m used to being on my own by now.”
The life of a Gatherer can often be lonely, you know - traversing through remote and dangerous areas, searching for lost souls who haven’t been able to find their way to the next life. You can only imagine that it would be even moreso than usual in the southern islands.
[[“You must have been proud, to be chosen so young. Very few can claim that honour.”|ch1tol09a][$tehemiaopenness += 1, $tehemia += 2, $faith += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Faith, +2 to your relationship with Tehemia, +1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m not sure I could have handled something like that. It seems to have worked out well for you, though.”|ch1tol09b][$tehemia += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>
[[“It’s a pity that you never got to experience a normal life. Don’t you ever miss it?”|ch1tol09c][$tehemia -= 1, $faith -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Faith, -1 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>They seem pleased by your statement, deep brown eyes sparkling as they smile. “I’m not sure about proud… it’s just the way it is. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though, that’s for sure.”
“Even so,” you press, hoping they might open up a little. “Your parents must have been proud, right? Or your elders?”
Their smile turns a little sad, but they only hesitate briefly before answering. “All of the adults in my hometown were proud, yeah… they all worried about me, after my parents died. But He was always there for me.”
You take a sharp breath in, meaning to apologise for prying, but they seem to read your intentions, merely waving a hand and shrugging in response.
“It’s all right. It was a long time ago now. Though I don’t often talk about it.”
“I suppose I got carried away admiring your devotion,” you reply, and the effect your words have on them is transformational.
All of the wariness that was present on their face while Our Lady was here has been banished, replaced by a genuine smile that seems to split their face in half and bring giant dimples to their cheeks. They shift all of their weight to one leg as they lean back against the pole once more, tucking their other foot behind their knee, and you see their toes wiggling a little as they sway slightly with the movement of the ship.
You know enough to recognise the fact that they’re consciously letting their guard down by shifting from a ready stance - though you’re not really sure how exactly you know that.
“That’s not the reaction I usually get,” they tell you, and even their voice sounds less tense than before.
“Other people don’t approve?” you ask, raising your eyebrows, and they shrug again.
“Most people’s faith tends to stay as a background element in their life, I’ve found. Usually nobody understands when I talk about how important He is to me. And that just means I end up with even less people I feel comfortable around. It’s a vicious cycle!”
You laugh as they wave their arms around to punctuate their point, almost causing them to slip off the pole.
[[They sure are hard to look away from…|ch1tol09a1][$tehemiaflirt += 1, $tehemia += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>
<<if $honesty >= 50>> [[“Given what’s going on, I’m sure everyone on board is glad that someone with such strong faith is here.”|ch1tol09a2][$tehemiaopenness += 1, $tehemia += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Tehemia, +1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
[[“I’m sure they’re all just jealous - I mean, you’re already capable, clearly, and now this?”|ch1tol09a3][$tehemia += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>
[[“I feel the same way quite a bit. It’s easier to be on your own than around people who don’t understand.”|ch1tol09a4][$tehemiaopenness -= 1, $tehemia += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia, -1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>>They give you a speculative look that lasts for a few seconds, as if they’re waiting for you to follow that comment up with something else. What it might be, you’re not sure, as you hadn’t meant anything other than what you’d said - but you’re spared having to ask what’s wrong when they finally relax, seeming to come to the same conclusion.
“I do all right,” they say in response, teeth flashing in a grin that’s still somewhat wary.
“That’s what matters,” you reply, nonchalant, and they smile more naturally this time.
“I’m used to people trying to convince me that I’ve missed out on all the important things in life,” they explain, sighing, and you raise an eyebrow.
“They don’t approve of your faith?” you ask, and they shrug again.
“Most people’s faith tends to stay as a background element in their life, I’ve found. Usually nobody understands when I talk about how important Osnach is to me. They’re always convinced that I’ve been broken or wasted on this life or something. When you said that you didn’t know if you could handle it, I thought you were going to- but… never mind. You didn’t give me a hard time about it, and I appreciate that.”
You snort. “People would have to be pretty brave to give //you// a hard time, surely? Matters of faith notwithstanding, you seem like you could handle a lot of things that other people couldn’t.”
Their grin is much wider this time, and a pleased hum escapes from their throat as they lift their arms to show off their muscles. “Noticed these, did you?”
[[Maybe a little…|ch1tol09b1][$tehemiaflirt += 1, $tehemia += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>
<<if $honesty >= 50>>[[Laugh. “Well, I meant that you seem resilient, which I feel like everyone on the ship could use a bit of help with right now.”|ch1tol09b2][$tehemiaopenness += 1, $tehemia += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia, +1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
[[“Noticed them? I’m here to inquire if you have a permit to carry them!”|ch1tol09b3][$tehemia += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>
[[“I would have thought they would encourage people to do a better job keeping their opinions to themselves.”|ch1tol09b4][$decency -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency//]<<endif>>Their eyes flash with irritation momentarily, and you realise that you’ve said the wrong thing. The tension that they held in their body while Our Lady was here earlier has returned to some degree, though they also look more tired, as if they’d been hoping that the conversation wouldn’t take this turn.
“A lot of people ask that,” they tell you, sounding exasperated, and you smile apologetically.
“Sorry. We can change the subject if you’d like?”
They relax a little, looking slightly surprised. “Thank you for not pressing the issue.”
You shrug, still feeling bad. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I guess I’m just not doing a great job at avoiding it so far.”
“You might still be able to turn things around,” they reply, their voice non-committal, though their eyes as they look you over are somewhat critical.
<<if $honesty >= 50>>[[“I hope so. I feel like all of us need to stick together while we’re down here if we want to get home.”|ch1tol09c1][$tehemiaopenness += 1, $tehemia += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia, +1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
[[“I get the feeling that no one on board the ship has really been living up to your expectations.”|ch1tol09c2]]
[[“My people skills are a bit rusty, I suppose. I’m not used to being around many people either.”|ch1tol09c3][$tehemia += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>Something about them seems to capture your eyes as you stand there… and before you know it, you’ve already stared past the bounds of what would be considered polite, captivated by the sight of them. You’re not sure whether it’s their muscular figure, their winsome smile, or their seemingly effortless confidence, or maybe a combination of all three.
It only takes them a second to notice your attention, and you feel your cheeks heat up a little as they tip their head back and lean to display their body against the pole behind them, showing off.
“Like what you see?” they ask you, their eyes twinkling mischievously.
You open your mouth to answer, though you have no idea what you’re about to say.
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]Their smile turns a little strained, but you consider it a minor victory that their body language remains open instead of instantly shutting down. “You don’t just mean you. You’re talking about the crew and that strange lady, aren’t you?”
“They’re trying to help,” you reply, gently, and they sigh.
“Yeah, I know. I just… don’t open up easily. But I’ll give it a go, I suppose - if you think it’s worth trying.”
You try to give them an encouraging smile. “I’d rather trust the people I have to rely on to guide me through a place I’m not supposed to be in than not trust them. And the only way to trust them is to get to know them.”
They grin at you. “Your approach is so different than mine. The first thing I did was ask them if they had a rope long enough to reach the top so I could just climb right back out of the hole!”
You can’t help but laugh, picturing it. “Admittedly, if that was an option, I’d probably be right there with you.”
“If you have any plans for how to raise the rope up to the top, I’m all ears,” they retort, still grinning.
“I’ll work on it.”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]Tehemia dissolves into undignified snickering, a little to your surprise. “I wish that’s all it was. Then I could dispel their jealousy just by attempting to solve equations in front of them.”
You grin at the mental image of them whipping out a book full of mathematics any time they try to make friends. “Ah, sums, the great equaliser. That which vexes all people.”
“We all need to have //some// weaknesses,” they reply in feigned haughtiness, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off their shoulder.
“Joking aside, I’m surprised to hear that people give you a hard time for your faith,” you say, meaning it. “I’d like to hope that you won’t always have that problem.”
Their eyes drift back to meet yours, and they smile easily. “We’ll see. I have a good feeling about you, at least.”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]A degree of seriousness returns to their face, though they don’t move from their relaxed posture against the pole. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s draining, to have to explain yourself constantly… and then it becomes draining to worry about whether or not you’ll have to do it every time as well.”
You smile to hear your exact thoughts echoed back at you. “I’ve been assured quite a lot that people mean well. It’s more difficult to believe at some times than others.”
They snort, though their disdain isn’t for you. “People don’t know //how// to mean well. They just look sideways at anything that doesn’t seem to fit into their definition of normal.”
“You must get that a lot here on the mainland,” you say, sympathetically, but they just shrug.
“Back home as well. It’s always ‘shouldn’t you be more careful?’ and ‘don’t you think you depend on Osnach a bit too much?’ At least over here people have the excuse of being unfamiliar.”
Their eyes drift away to focus on the floor, and you find yourself wondering how long they’ve been away from home.
They look up at you suddenly and then grin sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. You’re easy to talk to, though.”
You lift your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t mind. You-”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]You can’t deny that their physique is… eye-catching. And it’s not just their toned arms (although those help); something about the way they carry themself, with such easy confidence, makes them more difficult to look away from than you’d like to admit.
The knowing grin that they’re sporting as they watch you flounder to try and answer probably doesn’t help either.
“Want a closer look?” they tease, holding one arm out towards you.
You try to force your voice to work, your mouth opening soundlessly for a moment as you wrack your brains to try and come up with something even vaguely suave to say.
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]Their face falls slightly at your comment, though you’re fairly certain that it’s not because of you moving the conversation away from their physique.
“I mean, I //am// resilient,” they reply, lowering their arms again. “It’s my job as a Gatherer, of course. But the way you say that makes me think you’re not just talking about you.”
You shrug, trying to keep your voice light. “We’re going to need the crew’s help to get out of here, no matter what else happens. It’s easier to know you can depend on them if they also know that they can depend on you.”
Tehemia sighs, fiddling idly with the ornaments on their belt for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t exactly open up easily, but… I guess I should give it a go.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re just as keen for us to be gone as we are,” you add, trying to be encouraging, and receive what seems like a genuine grin in response.
“Not sure they could be //that// keen. Maybe close, though.”
You laugh at them. “Lucky this is a team event and not a competition, then.”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]Tehemia dissolves into an undignified combination of escaped giggles and barely-stifled chortling, to your surprise and satisfaction.
It’s always good to know whether your terrible jokes will provoke laughter or fury… not so that you can avoid the latter, of course, just so that you can call your shots for maximum carnage.
“Is that a real thing?” they ask, when they’ve mostly composed themself again.
You raise an eyebrow. “Weapon permits, you mean? I, uh… I think so? Depends on the weapon. A lot of the thym’ani ones are illegal to sell.”
There’s a short beat of silence.
“Not for bicep muscles, though, as far as I know.”
“Oh,” they reply, their eyes still shining with mirth… but you can’t help noticing that they sound slightly disappointed.
“You could be the first!” you tell them, grinning, and they burst out laughing again.
“You know, I like you.”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]Tehemia shifts on the spot, looking slightly uncomfortable for a moment. “It depends. For that sort of thing to work, you usually have to be willing to back up the implied threat with a real one. I’m not really that sort of person.”
You shrug diplomatically. “I’m not saying you have to follow through on anything. Sometimes just the rumour that you might is enough.”
They grin weakly, not seeming very convinced. “I’ve never tried it, but if it really gets people to keep their mouths shut, I might just have to.”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]They take a deep breath in, eyelashes fluttering as they close their eyes for a moment. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You don’t seem particularly keen on the idea, if you don’t mind me saying,” you continue, carefully, but they look more amused by your comment than anything.
“Noticed, did you?” they ask, grinning. “I can work in a group if I have to, but I’m definitely more comfortable being on my own.”
Despite the admission, they don’t seem all that uncomfortable now - certainly not compared to earlier when Our Lady was here. You’re not sure what that means; maybe they’re more trusting of you because you’re in the same situation as they are, or maybe Our Lady said something to them before you woke up that put them on edge. Either way, you’re glad that you don’t seem to have started off on too bad a foot with them.
“I’m sure we can find a way to all pull together without being too much of a bother to you,” you respond, eventually, and they smile at you.
“Don’t worry about it too much, all right? Putting aside my own comfort for the sake of the mission is basically my job description.”
You find yourself frowning. “I don’t know if-”
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]“I don’t fit in in most places,” they reply, sounding unconcerned. “I’m used to it.”
Silence falls as you consider what to say next, wondering if their problem with Our Lady has to do with the same mistake that you made just now. Our Lady hadn’t asked you any questions about your childhood or home life, but then again, you do seem to have worse memory loss problems than Tehemia.
“I really hope we can get this all sorted out quickly,” you settle on saying, once you’re done thinking. “I want to go home.”
They nod firmly. “We’re agreed on that point. It’s not natural, us being down here.”
You open your mouth to respond, wondering what they mean by that, but close it again abruptly.
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]They relax a bit, leaning their weight against the pole behind them. “It’s good to know that you understand. I’ve been feeling a lot more… scrutiny… since coming on board than I’m used to.”
You nod in understanding, remembering your conversation with the captain from earlier.
//“Tell us something you ''do'' know, then.”//
You sigh. “I know everyone just wants to know what’s going on, but… it’s definitely pushing a few of my buttons. I don’t understand exactly //which// buttons, but it’s some of them.”
They grin at you in response, seeming charmed by the analogy. “Exactly! Like being poked and prodded by a doctor, but in places that don’t really exist. But you can still feel them poking!”
You nod again, more resigned this time. “I really hope we can figure out how to resolve this quickly. I’d like to get out of here.”
“Agreed,” they reply, their face falling somewhat, though it seems to be in worry rather than in anger.
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly rips through the conversation you’ve been having. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere above you in the ship, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
You turn to Tehemia, hoping they might know what’s going on, but they look just as shocked and off-balance as you feel.
“Let’s go,” you manage to say, and both of you break into a run, heading for the door.
You may not be able to make out the words being shouted on deck, but the tone of the voices doing the shouting carries a distinct undertone of fear.
[[This isn’t exactly good for your injured ribs…|ch123]]<<if $codex215 neq true>><<run memorize('codex215', true)>><<set $codex215 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Medicine<</notify>><<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch127a1") eq 0>>You nod at her, figuring that she probably has quite a bit to do, even if most of it is just wondering what on earth is going on and drinking hard liquor with desperate fervour. You can find your way back to her easily enough if you discover anything useful.
<<endif>>\
You open the door and are immediately greeted by a cocktail of varying uncomfortable smells: the artificially-sweet odour of ether, a sharp medley of multiple other chemicals, and the underpinning coppery scent of blood. <<if visited ("ch127a1") eq 0>>This is obviously the ship’s surgery, though you find yourself wondering why it would have needed a functional one<<else>>You find yourself wondering why the ship would have needed a functional surgery<<endif>> before the hole in the sky opened up and you and the other survivors arrived. They can’t have kept it stocked purely for the benefit of Our Lady, surely? Or do the dead also need medical aid?
All your questions about the nature of life in the Underworld are forgotten when you see the person lying on a rough bed in the corner of the room.
//-you plummet helplessly into a strange grey landscape, arms windmilling as you fight against the fall. Nearby, almost close enough to touch, someone else is falling alongside you; their eyes are closed, head lolling to one side, and they’re offering no struggle against gravity as they plunge downwards. You think they might be dead already, or at the very least close to it.//
//You struggle to regain your breath, trying to make some sense out of your surroundings in the unexpected light, and you realise that what you’re falling towards is a body of water. You grit your teeth, trying to think how best to fall to survive the landing, but your eyes are drawn back to the person beside you, a thym’ani. If the surface tension of the water doesn’t kill them… falling unconscious into the water almost certainly will.//
//You angle yourself towards them and reach out, managing to catch the sleeve of one of their lower arms between your fingers, and pull them towards you-//
[[Another flashback…|ch1a103]]You gasp as the sudden memory fades, clutching at the doorframe beside you. You think that out of everything you’ve forgotten, the memory of the actual fall is something that you would have been happy not to remember.
Feeling a little weak, you move over to the stool beside the bed and lower yourself onto it gingerly. If this person is going to go giving you pieces of your memory back, and any more of them are like that, you’d prefer to be sitting, thank you very much.
They seem oblivious to your troubles, no more conscious now than they were in your memory.
You look them over, wondering if you knew them before all of this happened, but there’s nothing particularly familiar about their face - at least as far as you can tell given the amnesia. Their skin is the burnished silver colour of a thym’ani who has spent a great deal of time underground, almost glittering in the dark, and their chest is bare save for a mess of bandages covering their stomach.
Recalling what the captain said about stab wounds on the other survivors, you suppose that explains the unconsciousness adequately enough.
Their face is round and open, with a thin, sharp nose and a smooth, defined jawline. Loose hair, the colour of brass, has been pushed out of their face to fan across the pillow underneath them; it’s straight and fine, and probably long enough to reach their shoulders, at a guess.
Beside you on a table there is a collection of items, which you assume were probably found on or near the survivor; there’s no shirt, as that was presumably ruined by blood, but a heavy black coat has been folded up as much as possible, and there’s two pairs of black leather gloves, along with several knives of varying lengths, all sheathed, and a pair of holstered pistols. Thankfully, none of the blades look like the knife from your scrap of memory with the grinning cultist.
The clothes are roughly-made, not luxurious at all. Is this person a worker… a miner of some kind perhaps? And their skin… were you taken into Thym’an, underground, for the ritual? Or was this thym’ani brought out to wherever you were? If either of those things is true, then why? And what were they-
Your musings are interrupted suddenly by a protracted groan. You turn back to the survivor, shocked, only to see their eyes begin to flutter open.
<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>[[Should I fetch the captain, or…?|ch1a104a]]<<else>>[[Should I fetch the captain, or…?|ch1a104b]]<<endif>><<set $codex117 to true>><<if $codex216 neq true>><<run memorize('codex216', true)>><<set $codex216 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: Annos, thym’ani skyships<</notify>><<else>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Annos<</notify>><<endif>>\
You freeze, unsure of what to do. If you were to leave, they would have to wake up and deal with everything that’s going on alone. But you also feel like they should probably have a doctor nearby… and unfortunately you have no idea where to find one, if there isn’t one in the surgery itself.
Before you can decide either way, the survivor’s top set of eyes focusses on you, while the lower pair flicks around the room.
“Who are you?” they manage to ask, sounding pained.
“Oh, uh… I’m $pcname,” you reply, wondering how you’re possibly going to explain anything that’s happened. “I use<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns. And you are?”
There’s a brief pause as all four of the survivor’s eyes inspect your face carefully. The vivid pale green colour reminds you of beryl gemstones… or maybe the sea in certain lights.
“Annos,” comes the reply, eventually. “He/him pronouns.”
He reaches up with his top right hand to cover his eyes, groaning again, and you turn and cast a glance around the rest of the room.
“I think there’s probably some water around here, if you want some…?” you suggest, spotting a jug sitting on a bench on the opposite wall.
“Yes. Please.”
It takes a bit of searching for you to uncover a cup, and you make sure to sniff the jug beforehand to be certain that is in fact water (it is), but as soon as you hand it to him, he gulps down the entire thing so fast you haven’t even had time to put the jug back down.
“Do you want some more?” you offer, raising an eyebrow.
He holds the cup out towards you. “Where are we? I don’t recognise this place.”
You busy yourself with refilling his water, taking a deep breath in. Now comes the part that you’ve been dreading.
“We’re on a ship,” you begin, thankful that his first question was at least relatively easy to answer. “In the surgery, to be exact.”
He lifts his head off the pillow for a second, eyes narrowing in confusion as he looks around. “…a ship? Did they manage to dig one up finally? It doesn’t look how I expected…”
Dig one up…? Does he think you’re talking about one of the wrecked thym’ani ships that crash-landed on the continent all those centuries ago?
“Not one of //our// ships,” you clarify hastily, waving a few of your hands. “A boat, I suppose. On a river.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before sighing, seeming very confused. “That explains the lack of technology, at least. But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here.”
You hesitate again before answering.
[[Try and break things to him gently.|ch1a104a1][$decency +=2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[Just go for broke.|ch1a104a2][$annosharden += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>You freeze, unsure of what to do. If you were to leave, they would have to wake up and deal with everything that’s going on alone. But you also feel like they should probably have a doctor nearby… and unfortunately you have no idea where to find one, if there isn’t one in the surgery itself.
Before you can decide either way, the survivor’s top set of eyes focusses on you, while the lower pair flicks around the room.
“Who are you?” they manage to ask, sounding pained.
“Oh, uh… I’m $pcname,” you reply, wondering how you’re possibly going to explain anything that’s happened. “I use<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns. And you are?”
There’s a brief pause as all four of the survivor’s eyes inspect your face carefully. The vivid pale green colour reminds you of beryl gemstones… or maybe the sea in certain lights.
You’re not entirely sure what his eyes are searching for, but you get a vague sense that he didn’t find it, whatever it was.
“I use he/him pronouns,” he responds eventually, very pointedly not telling you his name. “What am I doing here?”
You open your mouth for a second and then close it again, trying to figure out how best to proceed. This seems like the sort of situation that would almost certainly go over better with someone who doesn’t have amnesia present - especially if the person is someone who is very obviously dead and can lend credence to the whole ‘Underworld’ business.
“Uh, listen…” you begin, shifting awkwardly on your stool. “I should probably fetch someone who-”
The second you turn away from him to see if you can spot any sign of where it might be a good idea to search for a doctor, there’s a flurry of movement behind you. You turn back to see him on his feet, somewhat miraculously, though he looks as though he greatly regrets pushing himself so far so soon after waking up. His two bottom arms are wrapped around the wound on his stomach, which is obviously causing him pain, and one of the remaining two arms is braced against the wall beside him, likely to help him stay upright.
The fourth arm is busy holding up one of his knives - unsheathed, and pointing directly at you.
“Where am I? What’s going on?” he demands, his breathing laboured.
[[“Listen - you’re not a prisoner or anything, I swear. I’m not the best person to explain, but I’ll tell you what I can, if you put down the knife.”|ch1a104b1][$annos += 1, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“I’d love to explain, but you look like you could use some help escaping. Would you like me to give you a hand?”|ch1a104b2][$annos += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[He doesn’t scare you. “You won’t get answers that way, and you won’t get far in that state. Why don’t you lay back down, and we’ll talk?”|ch1a104b3][$annosharden += 2, $decency -= 1, $annos -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Annos, +2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>
<<if $weapon eq "club">>[[Heft your belaying pin. “I don’t think you’re really in a state to be threatening people right now, do you?”|ch1a104b4][$annos -= 8, $decency -= 4, $annosharden += 4]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-4 to Decency, -8 to your relationship with Annos, +4 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this response<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because you do not have a weapon<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>You take a breath, wondering where the best place to start would even be. “So… everything I’m about to say is going to sound totally outlandish. Part of that might be because everyone else affected by what happened to you has amnesia, and we think that you probably will as well.”
He blinks a few times, eyes unfocusing as he clearly thinks it over. “I guess it would explain why I have no idea how I could have gotten here. I haven’t been topside in years, let alone on a river.”
He briefly covers his eyes with a hand, fingers pressed gingerly against his temples. You remember how it felt when you first woke up, and<<if ($race eq "thym’ani") or (visited ("ch1a104b1") > 0)>> refill his water cup again<<else>> silently wait for him to compose himself<<endif>>.
“Sorry,” he mutters, when it becomes obvious that you’re waiting for him, but you just shrug.
“I think you’re dealing with this all about as well as can be expected, to be honest.”
He gives you a grateful look. “Okay… what’s this outlandish stuff you have to tell me, then?”
You sigh, wrestling with the half-formed sentences your brain is producing in an attempt to explain for a few seconds. “Well, we still don’t have all the information ourselves, but…”
You start by telling him what you and Our Lady and the captain have managed to puzzle out regarding how this mess started; he doesn’t seem as perturbed by your mention of cultists with sharp knives as you would have expected, but then again, you suppose it makes sense that the pistols he carries wouldn’t be just for show. He listens to the bulk of your explanations with a distant, confused look on his face, pausing only to frown occasionally.
It makes you realise what you must have looked like while trying to recall things earlier.
“There’s worse parts still to come,” you continue, smiling ruefully. “But I figure we can work our way up to those.”
You still have no idea how to explain about the fact that you’re in the Underworld.
“Worse than what you’ve already told me?” he asks incredulously, and then makes a very sour face when he sees your answering expression of sympathy. “Gods… all right, then.”
<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>[[You can relate…|ch1a104a3]]<<else>>[[You can relate…|ch1a104d]]<<endif>>You clear your throat, trying to find a good place to start. “Something very bad has happened. But unfortunately we don’t know exactly what except that it involved weird magic and live sacrifices. And everyone involved has amnesia, on top of everything else, so that’s about all the information we have to go off.”
His green eyes bore into you, and the expression on his face tells you that he’s having trouble processing what you just said. You can’t really blame him; you feel like his expression is a pretty good mirror of how you’re feeling right now.
“Amnesia?” he asks, finally, and you nod. “I suppose that explains why none of what you just said means anything to me, then.”
“You had it worse than me and the other survivor,” you continue, gesturing to the wounds on his stomach. “But we don’t remember why, of course. After the ritual - or whatever the sacrifices were for - happened, we ended up in a river, and were fished out by a passing ship. And here we are.”
You steer clear of bringing up the Underworld for now, thinking that the last thing you need is for him to get the idea that you’re either lying to him or an unreliable source of information. He’ll find out about it all soon enough, anyway - and at least you’ve given him the basic gist of what you’ve puzzled out with the captain and Our Lady.
He lies there, completely still, for a long moment, staring at the ceiling. “There’s so much fog in my head that I find it hard to argue with you. But it doesn’t exactly make any sense, either.”
<<if $annos >= 25>>
“I’m afraid it doesn’t get any easier,” you reply, drily, and he snorts in seeming amusement before grimacing and pressing two hands tenderly to his injured torso.
“Ouch.”
<<endif>>
“Sorry for the blunt explanation,” you say eventually, after he falls silent again, but he just shrugs in response.
“How would you even go about sugar-coating any of this?”
<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>[[You truly couldn’t even begin to guess.|ch1a104a3]]<<else>>[[You truly couldn’t even begin to guess.|ch1a104d]]<<endif>><<if $codex118 neq true>><<run memorize('codex118', true)>><<set $codex118 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Queen Damya<</notify>><<endif>>\
“Is there anything at all that you can remember about what happened?” you ask him, though you feel a bit pushy asking him this early after he’s woken up. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but… we’re all in the dark unless someone remembers something.”
He gives you a hesitant look, but then screws his eyes shut for a few seconds, pain written plainly on his face. You give him some time, knowing what he must be dealing with.
“I remember… um, snippets? Some faces, a flash of light. I think there was a party?”
“A party?” you press, perking up.
“Yeah… after the election. I remember everyone getting really drunk toasting the new queen.”
Your mouth goes dry at his words, and you press two of your hands together tightly. “Annos… Queen Damya was elected //over five years ago//.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth you wish you hadn’t said them. More than that, you wish they weren’t true; the sudden realisation that nearly half a decade of his life is gone is… bleak. Thym’an’s elected monarchy appoints a ruler for life, so you can’t even cling to the hope that you and he are talking about different elections - especially since you said the queen’s name and he seemed to recognise it.
It puts your own memory loss into harsh perspective, at the very least. You think about everything that you’ve done in the past five years that you still remember… not least the aftermath of the celebrations he’s talking about. <<if $amnesia eq false>>It was the last time you had managed to return to Thym’an before getting called back by your superiors in the $faction; y<<else>>Y<<endif>>ou can’t imagine just how much more empty you would feel if those memories were also missing.
There’s a long, long silence. You avoid looking at his face, not knowing what to say.
“Oh,” he responds, after what feels like an eternity, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Do you know if I’ll ever get those memories back?”
[[“I’m sorry to tell you this, but… we don’t know yet. If it helps, I’m in a similar position. I’ve forgotten things that I wish I could remember, too.”|ch1a104a3a][$decency += 2, $annos += 1, $annosharden -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +1 to your relationship with Annos, -1 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“Oh… you probably don’t want them back. It was a weird five years. Flying pink elephants, that sort of thing. You’re better off, really.”|ch1a104a3b][$annos += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[Lie. “Of course! Don’t worry. Just concentrate on resting and healing from your wounds for now.”|ch1a104a3c][$honesty -= 2, $annosharden += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Honesty, +1 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“We don’t know if any of us will. And right now none of us have time to waste on worrying about it.”|ch1a104a3d][$decency -= 1, $annosharden += 8]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency, +8 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>His eyes bore into you for a second; there’s a million different emotions swirling inside them, fighting each other for his attention. You realise just how intensely vulnerable he must be feeling - while he doesn’t exactly have any choice but to trust you, you haven’t really been as empathetic as you could be. You’ve been too focussed on holding yourself together to really reach out to him.
“But you remember the election?” he prompts you, after the silence becomes oppressive.
You nod, sighing heavily. “I guess it affected us differently. While the memories you lost seem to be based on time, mine are… more centred on facts about myself?<<if $amnesia eq true>> I don’t remember how I could possibly have gotten here, or anything about what I do for a living. I just have strange little facts and abstract feelings to go off, without much context. I remember some of my colleagues, distantly, but… I wouldn’t know where to find them<<else>> I don’t remember how I got here, or what I do for the $faction that could have led to me getting mixed up in whatever happened. I remember some of my colleagues, but I have no idea how many of them I may have forgotten<<endif>>.”
You lapse into silence again, idly fidgeting the fingers of two of your hands as you clasp them together, while Annos takes a deep breath in and then slowly lets it out, his gaze returning to the ceiling.
“Is it bad that I feel a little bit better knowing it’s not just me?” he asks quietly, but you just smile.
“I wouldn’t say so. It’s the whole reason I brought it up, anyway, so that you would know you’re not alone.”
He closes his eyes, mirroring your earlier sigh with one of his own. “I appreciate it, $pcname. Really… thank you.”
You clear your throat, embarrassed. “It’s not just me that’s around, you know. I can fetch the captain for you… or see if I can find the doctor, if you prefer.”
He thinks it over for a second, and then makes a face. “Not yet, if you don’t mind. I want to pretend there’s not a hundred other things that I have to confront for a little while longer. I’ll manage without a doctor for a bit.”
[[Even though it’s probably not the best time… you can’t help noticing how good he looks in profile.|ch1a105a][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[He sure is taking this all in stride, given the circumstances. You’re impressed…|ch1a105b][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m glad you woke up and are adjusting okay. Some of the others were worried about you, so I’m relieved you’re doing as well as you are.”|ch1a105c][$annos += 2, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“There’s a lot of people you’ll need to meet sooner or later, so I can sympathise. I don’t even think I’ve met them all yet.”|ch1a105d]]
[[“You won’t be able to make everything go away by pretending. You might as well face up to it now, because we don’t have time to wait for you to join us when you feel like it.”|ch1a105e][$annosharden += 2, $annos -= 2, decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Annos, +2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>To your mild surprise, he laughs at your comment, though the way he clutches at his stomach afterwards makes it seem like he regrets it.
“Don’t make me laugh,” he groans, covering his eyes with one of his free hands, and you grin.
“Oh, so you don’t want to hear about the furry purple penguins, then?”
“Damn it,” he manages to say, between attempts to keep himself from chuckling again. “You’re cruel, you know that?”
This time, you laugh at him. “I don’t think a few jokes will hurt you too badly. They might even help a little.”
He sighs loudly, his mind obviously returning to all the business at hand, but he nonetheless gives you a reluctant grin. “Maybe a bit. I just hope you’ve got a steady supply of them.”
“Of course!” you respond breezily, waving two of your hands expansively. “I am a humble but dedicated purveyor of comedic wares! Well… maybe, anyway. I don’t exactly remember.”
He pauses for a moment at that, not meeting your eyes, but eventually he sighs again, less despondently this time.
“I suppose it’s good to know that it’s not just me who’s forgotten things.”
“There’s apparently another survivor as well,” you tell him, still trying to skirt around the topic of the Underworld and the Black River - for now, anyway. “Not sure how much they’ve forgotten yet, though. I was actually trying to //avoid// difficult conversations about amnesia by coming to see you instead of them.”
He gives you a sideways look. “I can’t say I blame you… though I don’t know what would have happened if I’d woken up and no one had been here.”
You shrug. “You’d have gotten the crew’s attention somehow. Do you want me to go and fetch any of them, by the way? The doctor, maybe?”
He thinks it over for a second, and then makes a face. “Not yet, if you don’t mind. I want to pretend there’s not a hundred other things that I have to confront for a little while longer.”
[[Even though it’s probably not the best time… you can’t help noticing how good he looks in profile.|ch1a105a][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[He sure is taking this all in stride, given the circumstances. You’re impressed…|ch1a105b][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m glad you woke up and are adjusting okay. Some of the others were worried about you, so I’m relieved you’re doing as well as you are.”|ch1a105c][$annos += 2, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“There’s a lot of people you’ll need to meet sooner or later, so I can sympathise. I don’t even think I’ve met them all yet.”|ch1a105d]]
[[“You won’t be able to make everything go away by pretending. You might as well face up to it now, because we don’t have time to wait for you to join us when you feel like it.”|ch1a105e][$annosharden += 2, $annos -= 2, decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Annos, +2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>He lets his arms drop onto the bed beneath him, exhaling sharply in relief.
“Thank the gods for that,” he mutters, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.
You sit there for a while, watching him, acutely aware of the fact that you’re deceiving him. But you don’t know what else to do - more than five years of his life have essentially been //stolen//. What could you even have told him? ‘Oh, we have no idea and possibly not but hey, at least you didn’t get turned to dust like that one guy’? Somehow that doesn’t seem particularly comforting.
And anyway… you might be right. If he does start to remember things within the next few days, he might not even find out that you lied at all, and if that does end up being the case then you’ve just saved him from having to worry about it in between now and then.
Of course, it’s also possible that he won’t get those memories back and you’ll be proven wrong. But there’s nothing you can do about that right now; you can only wait and find out.
Annos looks a lot less stressed, at least, which is basically what you had been hoping for.
“Would you like me to fetch the captain for you?” you ask him, breaking the silence. “Or the doctor, for that matter?”
He thinks it over for a second, and then makes a face. “Not yet, if you don’t mind. I want to pretend there’s not a hundred other things that I have to confront for a little while longer.”
[[Even though it’s probably not the best time… you can’t help noticing how good he looks in profile.|ch1a105a][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[He sure is taking this all in stride, given the circumstances. You’re impressed…|ch1a105b][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m glad you woke up and are adjusting okay. Some of the others were worried about you, so I’m relieved you’re doing as well as you are.”|ch1a105c][$annos += 2, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“There’s a lot of people you’ll need to meet sooner or later, so I can sympathise. I don’t even think I’ve met them all yet.”|ch1a105d]]
[[“You won’t be able to make everything go away by pretending. You might as well face up to it now, because we don’t have time to wait for you to join us when you feel like it.”|ch1a105e][$annosharden += 2, $annos -= 2, decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Annos, +2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>He stares at you wordlessly for a long moment. There’s a //lot// going on behind his eyes, and most of it is far too turbulent for you to decipher. Perhaps most surprisingly, he doesn’t seem angry, or particularly upset - just tired.
You can relate.
“What do you mean, ‘right now’?” he asks stolidly, finally breaking the silence. “Are we still in danger?”
You shrug. “I’m not willing to discount it, not while we can’t remember what happened. The people who did this to us could easily still be out there. And even if not, there’s work to be done figuring out what’s going on.”
He lies there for a few more seconds, barely moving a muscle as he stares at the ceiling this time. You open your mouth to say something, thinking that maybe he’d be better off talking to someone else about all of this, but he just sighs deeply, returning his attention to you.
“You’re right.”
You blink a few times, surprised, but then when you stop to think about it for a second, you’re not entirely sure why. Nothing about his clothing - or the weapons he carries - would point to him being a particularly soft person. And you can’t really blame him for being somewhat out of it after just waking up from what the two of you have been through.
Still… the feeling lingers, somehow, that you’ve been talking to two very different people. That the man who is lying calmly on the bed with all four of his hands folded on his chest isn’t the same man that you met when you walked in.
“There’ll be plenty of time to sort out all this memory stuff when we’re done,” you add, mostly in an attempt to allay your odd surge of insight. “I’ll be happy to meet you at the bar when we’re free and clear.”
He gives you a lopsided grin. “Only if you’re buying.”
“Would you like me to fetch the captain for you?” you ask him, satisfied that he seems to be holding himself together. “Or the doctor, for that matter?”
“In a while, maybe,” he replies, seeming unconcerned. “I think I’d rather finish getting my bearings first. Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
[[Even though it’s probably not the best time… you can’t help noticing how good he looks in profile.|ch1a105a][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[He sure is taking this all in stride, given the circumstances. You’re impressed…|ch1a105b][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m glad you woke up and are adjusting okay. Some of the others were worried about you, so I’m relieved you’re doing as well as you are.”|ch1a105c][$annos += 2, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“There’s a lot of people you’ll need to meet sooner or later, so I can sympathise. I don’t even think I’ve met them all yet.”|ch1a105d]]It’s easier to see, now that he’s awake, and especially now that you seem to be done having unsettling flashbacks about him, but he really is very handsome. It’s rare to see thym’ani with skin quite as metallic as his - you find yourself wondering if he’s //ever// seen the sun - but combined with the sparkling green of his eyes, it makes him undeniably striking. He almost looks like a statue, like metal come to life.
<<if $annosharden eq 20>>
The expression on his face tells you that he’s noticed you noticing him; he raises an eyebrow at you in response, but he seems more curious than particularly interested. You clear your throat, thinking that you should move on.
<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>
He seems to notice that you’re looking at him, if the way his eyes keep flicking to your face and back away again is any indication. It’s a little hard to gauge what he’s thinking from his reaction; he doesn’t seem bothered, but he does look slightly sheepish. You clear your throat after a few seconds, thinking that you should move on.
<<else>>
He seems to notice that you’re looking at him, if the way he averts his gaze sheepishly to the wall on the other side of him is any indication. You almost think you should apologise for making him uncomfortable, but there’s a slight twist to his lips that looks a bit like a smile… maybe the best and least awkward thing to do is just to move on.
<<endif>>
Unfortunately, the only place to move on to is the bit you’ve really been trying to avoid.
“I’ve saved the least believable part of all this for last,” you tell him, even though you know that prefacing it that way won’t help.
He opens his mouth to say something, looking quizzical, and you know what he’s going to say before he can even get a chance to say it.
“What could possibly-”
“We’re in the Underworld,” you answer, giving him an apologetic look. “We… fell down here. That’s what the ritual, or whatever it was, did - it opened a gate, or something.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds again, wrestling with that… but once again, you can hardly blame him.
“Are-” he begins, and then falls silent instead. “Is there… uh… I mean, how do you know?”
“You’d understand, if you saw what it looked like out there,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “It doesn’t look… right.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before covering his eyes, groaning. You can’t tell whether or not he believes you.
“I could probably… help you get out there and have a look?” you offer, after a few more moments pass. “It’s not too far to walk. And the captain will probably want to meet you, anyway.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You’re not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of so much physical contact, but it’s pretty clear that he shouldn’t be walking on his own… if he even can.
<<endif>>
[[This is probably one of those things you just have to see to believe…|ch1a106]]You lean back on your stool for a second, struck suddenly by just how incredible it is that he’s coping as well as he is. Considering how he was in your flashback, and what must have happened for him to get that way, not to mention all of the memory loss… you’re not sure you’d be nearly as coherent or steady as he is now if it was you.
He seems to notice you looking at him, blinking a few times and raising one of his hands to his face like he thinks there might be something stuck to it. “What?”
You smile at him, charmed. “Just admiring your resilience.”
<<if $annosharden eq 20>>
He gives you a loaded look in response, something knowing and resigned and slightly embarrassed all at once. You clear your throat when the look lingers for a few seconds, thinking that you should move on.
<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>
He looks surprised for a moment, though you’re not sure why; it’s hard to gauge exactly what he’s thinking, but you think he might be slightly embarrassed, judging by the way he turns his gaze away from you to stare at the ceiling.
“I wouldn’t exactly describe myself as ‘resilient’,” he replies, sounding somewhat amused. “But I’ll take any compliment I can get at a time like this.”
The moment lingers between the two of you for a few seconds before you clear your throat, thinking that you should move on.
<<else>>
For a brief moment, the only expression visible on his face is undisguised surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a mixture of shyness and embarrassment.
“I mean… if you say so,” he mumbles, averting his gaze sheepishly.
It might be best to move on.
<<endif>>
Unfortunately, the only place to move on to is the bit you’ve really been trying to avoid.
“I’ve saved the least believable part of all this for last,” you tell him, even though you know that prefacing it that way won’t help.
He opens his mouth to say something, looking quizzical, and you know what he’s going to say before he can even get a chance to say it.
“What could possibly-”
“We’re in the Underworld,” you answer, giving him an apologetic look. “We… fell down here. That’s what the ritual, or whatever it was, did - it opened a gate, or something.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds again, wrestling with that… but once again, you can hardly blame him.
“Are-” he begins, and then falls silent instead. “Is there… uh… I mean, how do you know?”
“You’d understand, if you saw what it looked like out there,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “It doesn’t look… right.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before covering his eyes, groaning. You can’t tell whether or not he believes you.
“I could probably… help you get out there and have a look?” you offer, after a few more moments pass. “It’s not too far to walk. And the captain will probably want to meet you, anyway.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You’re not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of so much physical contact, but it’s pretty clear that he shouldn’t be walking on his own… if he even can.
<<endif>>
[[This is probably one of those things you just have to see to believe…|ch1a106]]<<if $annosharden > 10>>He’s silent for a few seconds, eyes roving over the ceiling. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll manage fine, especially when all this heals.”
He indicates the wounds on his stomach with one of his hands, and there’s an intense, impatient note to his voice, as though the waiting for them to heal is the biggest problem plaguing him right now.
It’s the most emotion he’s showed in a while… you wonder if he would have simply gotten up and left by now if he wasn’t injured. If leaving was an option, maybe you would have joined him.
“I’m glad you’re still with us,” you tell him, meaning it, and he gives you a small, thin smile.
“I’m hard to kill, I think.”
<<else>>
He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a self-deprecating scoff and a pleased hum. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll pull myself together somehow.”
You give him a look, and he smiles sheepishly at you.
“Really… I appreciate it, but it seems to me like everyone is going through a bit of a rough patch right now.”
You shrug. “Where I come from, the person with the most stab wounds usually gets the most sympathy by rule of thumb.”
He starts to laugh, and then tries to stop himself, clutching at his stomach and wheezing. “That’s probably fair.”
“I’m glad you’re still with us,” you tell him, meaning it, and he smiles again, this time more brightly.
“So am I.”
<<endif>>
A comfortable silence falls between the two of you for a short while, and although you’re reluctant to break it, you know that you’re eventually going to have to move on.
Unfortunately, the only place to move on to is the bit you’ve really been trying to avoid.
“I’ve saved the least believable part of all this for last,” you tell him, even though you know that prefacing it that way won’t help.
He opens his mouth to say something, looking quizzical, and you know what he’s going to say before he can even get a chance to say it.
“What could possibly-”
“We’re in the Underworld,” you answer, giving him an apologetic look. “We… fell down here. That’s what the ritual, or whatever it was, did - it opened a gate, or something.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds again, wrestling with that… but once again, you can hardly blame him.
“Are-” he begins, and then falls silent instead. “Is there… uh… I mean, how do you know?”
“You’d understand, if you saw what it looked like out there,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “It doesn’t look… right.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before covering his eyes, groaning. You can’t tell whether or not he believes you.
“I could probably… help you get out there and have a look?” you offer, after a few more moments pass. “It’s not too far to walk. And the captain will probably want to meet you, anyway.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You’re not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of so much physical contact, but it’s pretty clear that he shouldn’t be walking on his own… if he even can.
<<endif>>
[[This is probably one of those things you just have to see to believe…|ch1a106]]He makes a non-committal noise, leaning back against his pillows and closing his eyes. “Who, the crew of the ship we’re on? What are they like?”
He seems vaguely relieved that the conversation is turning to new, less taxing topics, though you know that you probably shouldn’t let him get too comfortable. You still have to tell him about where the both of you have ended up, after all.
You hum briefly, trying to think of how to sum up those of the //Wisp’s// crew that you’ve met so far. “Well, the captain is… self-assured. Fiery, I suppose you might say. Then there’s Our Lady, she’s… mysterious? Seems to know a lot. And Soillere is <<if $soillere >= 25>>pretty friendly, you’ll probably get along fine with him<<else>>all right. Bit stiff if you talk about religion, though<<endif>>.”
“Odd names,” he comments absently, turning back towards you and raising an eyebrow.
You clear your throat, searching vainly for another topic to move on to. Unfortunately, the only topic you can think of to move on to is the one you’ve really been trying to avoid.
“I’ve saved the least believable part of all this for last,” you tell him, even though you know that prefacing it that way won’t help.
He opens his mouth to say something, looking quizzical, and you know what he’s going to say before he can even get a chance to say it.
“What could possibly-”
“We’re in the Underworld,” you answer, giving him an apologetic look. “We… fell down here. That’s what the ritual, or whatever it was, did - it opened a gate, or something.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds again, wrestling with that… but once again, you can hardly blame him.
“Are-” he begins, and then falls silent instead. “Is there… uh… I mean, how do you know?”
“You’d understand, if you saw what it looked like out there,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “It doesn’t look… right.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before covering his eyes, groaning. You can’t tell whether or not he believes you.
“I could probably… help you get out there and have a look?” you offer, after a few more moments pass. “It’s not too far to walk. And the captain will probably want to meet you, anyway.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You’re not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of so much physical contact, but it’s pretty clear that he shouldn’t be walking on his own… if he even can.
<<endif>>
[[This is probably one of those things you just have to see to believe…|ch1a106]]The words are harsh, but something about his handwave dismissal of the idea of dealing with things seems to have brought them out of you. Boy, wouldn’t you //love// to simply pretend than none of this is really happening - if anybody had offered you the chance.
Why aren’t the captain and Our Lady in here breaking things to him about as gently as a rampaging rhinoceros? Why is it your responsibility to do the opposite?
He’s quiet for a moment, and you can see from the look on his face that he’s a little taken aback.
“All right,” he finally replies, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “If you want to hand me off to the captain, you can.”
You sigh heavily, disgruntled. “There are some other things I need to explain first.”
Unfortunately, this is the bit you’ve really been trying to avoid.
“I’ve saved the least believable part of all this for last,” you tell him, even though you know that prefacing it that way won’t help.
He opens his mouth to say something, looking quizzical, and you know what he’s going to say before he can even get a chance to say it.
“What could possibly-”
“We’re in the Underworld,” you answer, bluntly. “We… fell down here. That’s what the ritual, or whatever it was, did - it opened a gate, or something.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds again, wrestling with that… but once again, you can hardly blame him-for that, at least.
“Are-” he begins, and then falls silent instead. “Is there… uh… I mean, how do you know?”
“You’d understand, if you saw what it looked like out there,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “It doesn’t look… right.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before covering his eyes, groaning. You can’t tell whether or not he believes you.
“I could probably… help you get out there and have a look?” you offer, after a few more moments pass. “It’s not too far to walk. And the captain will probably want to meet you, anyway.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You’re not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of so much physical contact, but it’s pretty clear that he shouldn’t be walking on his own… if he even can.
<<endif>>
[[This is probably one of those things you just have to see to believe…|ch1a106]]He’s quiet for a second, staring at the ceiling, but it’s a little hard to blame him, really. On top of everything else that he has to deal with, he probably could have done without you acting like a bully.
Sometimes it’s easier to be cold and distant and aloof… but you don’t really want to be, if you can help it.
Eventually, he sighs, looking extremely tired. “I get it, I suppose. Given everything that’s going on… I’m not feeling the best, either. And I did threaten you, which I’m also sorry for.”
You give him a small smile, grateful. “Yeah, it’s all a bit of a mess. Hopefully if we stick together, things will get easier with time.”
He nods in what seems to be some degree of resignation, but you’re glad that you made the apology and he accepted it. The sensible thing to do now would be to move on; unfortunately, the only place to move on to is the bit you’ve really been trying to avoid.
“I’ve saved the least believable part of all this for last,” you tell him, even though you know that prefacing it that way won’t help.
He opens his mouth to say something, looking quizzical, and you know what he’s going to say before he can even get a chance to say it.
“What could possibly-”
“We’re in the Underworld,” you answer, giving him an apologetic look. “We… fell down here. That’s what the ritual, or whatever it was, did - it opened a gate, or something.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds again, wrestling with that… but once again, you can hardly blame him.
“Are-” he begins, and then falls silent instead. “Is there… uh… I mean, how do you know?”
“You’d understand, if you saw what it looked like out there,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “It doesn’t look… right.”
He stares at you for a few seconds before covering his eyes, groaning. You can’t tell whether or not he believes you.
“I could probably… help you get out there and have a look?” you offer, after a few more moments pass. “It’s not too far to walk. And the captain will probably want to meet you, anyway.”
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You’re not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of so much physical contact, but it’s pretty clear that he shouldn’t be walking on his own… if he even can.
<<endif>>
[[This is probably one of those things you just have to see to believe…|ch1a106]]You hold your hands out in front of you, open, with your palms facing towards him, showing him that you’re not holding any weapons. You’re dimly amazed by how calm you feel; even though you can tell that he’s just disoriented and scared, the fact that someone is pointing a knife at you feels like it should probably cause you at least a //little// worry.
Instead, you just feel sorry for him. Given everything that’s going on, it’s hard to say his reaction isn’t justified.
He stares at you for a few more seconds, wide-eyed and shaking from the strain of standing, before dropping the knife. It clatters on the floor as he collapses ungracefully back onto the bed, and you retrieve and sheath it carefully.
“Are you all right?” you ask him, but he just whimpers in response.
Standing up clearly hasn’t done his wounds any favours.
“I think there’s probably some water around here, if you want some…?” you suggest, spotting a jug sitting on a bench on the opposite wall.
“Yes. Please.”
It takes a bit of searching for you to uncover a cup, and you make sure to sniff the jug beforehand to be certain that is in fact water (it is), but as soon as you hand it to him, he gulps down the entire thing so fast you haven’t even had time to put the jug back down.
“Where are we?” he asks, weakly. “I don’t recognise this place.”
You busy yourself with setting the water jug down somewhere safe, taking a deep breath in. Now comes the part that you’ve been dreading.
“We’re on a ship,” you begin, thankful that his first question was at least relatively easy to answer. “In the surgery, to be exact.”
He lifts his head off the pillow for a second, eyes narrowing in confusion as he looks around. “…a ship? You mean we //are// topside?”
You blink a few times at that question, before realising that ‘topside’ means above ground, as opposed to where he clearly usually lives given the colour of his skin, in the underground caverns of Thym’an.
“We’re not under the mountains, that’s correct,” you clarify for him, ignoring the fact that you’re committing quite a large lie of omission for now.
He stares at you for a few seconds before sighing, seeming very confused. “That explains the lack of technology, at least. But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here.”
You hesitate again before answering.
[[Try and break things to him gently.|ch1a104a1][$decency +=2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[Just go for broke.|ch1a104a2][$annosharden += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>He stands there frozen for a few seconds, like he’s having trouble comprehending your words. You would have hoped that the heavy sardonic undertone to your voice would carry through obviously enough, but then again, you suppose he probably isn’t functioning at his best right now. He seems to rally after a few seconds, and begins edging away from you slowly, though he does tighten his grip on his knife.
“No, thank you,” he replies, from between gritted teeth. “I can escape just fine on my own.”
You politely wave a hand towards the door and remain sitting on your stool as he stumbles his way over towards the door and opens it.
He pauses in the doorway, breathing hard, and still clutching at his stomach. “There’s no guards. I’m not actually a prisoner, am I?”
You suppress the urge to laugh at him. “No, but I figured it’d be hard to convince you.”
Groaning in what seems to be a combination of pain and despair, he hobbles his way back to the bed and collapses onto it, his breathing shallow. Standing up clearly hasn’t done his wounds any favours.
“Where are we?” he asks, weakly. “I don’t recognise this place.”
You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself. Now comes the part that you’ve been dreading.
“We’re on a ship,” you begin, thankful that his first question was at least relatively easy to answer. “In the surgery, to be exact.”
He lifts his head off the pillow for a second, eyes narrowing in confusion as he looks around. “…a ship? You mean we //are// topside?”
You blink a few times at that question, before realising that ‘topside’ means above ground, as opposed to where he clearly usually lives given the colour of his skin, in the underground caverns of Thym’an.
“We’re not under the mountains, that’s correct,” you clarify for him, ignoring the fact that you’re committing quite a large lie of omission for now.
He stares at you for a few seconds before sighing, seeming very confused. “That explains the lack of technology, at least. But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here.”
You hesitate again before answering.
[[Try and break things to him gently.|ch1a104a1][$decency +=2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[Just go for broke.|ch1a104a2][$annosharden += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>You’re dimly amazed by how calm you feel; even though you can tell that he’s disoriented and unsteady, the fact that someone is pointing a knife at you feels like it should probably cause you at least a //little// worry.
Instead, your senses barely register him as a threat. You’re confident that you could remove the knife from his hand if you needed to - confident enough that you don’t even feel the need to get up from your stool.
He stares at you for a few more seconds, wide-eyed and shaking from the strain of standing, before dropping the knife. It clatters on the floor as he collapses ungracefully back onto the bed, and you retrieve and sheath it carefully.
Standing up clearly hasn’t done his wounds any favours.
“Are you ready to talk now?” you ask him, but the noise he makes back at you sounds like it’s attempting to be a defiant scoff.
Unfortunately for him, you’re happy to sit here in silence and avoid giving explanations if that’s how he’s going to be.
“Where are we?” he asks, eventually, sounding defeated. “I don’t recognise this place.”
You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself. Now comes the part that you’ve been dreading.
“We’re on a ship,” you begin, thankful that his first question was at least relatively easy to answer. “In the surgery, to be exact.”
He lifts his head off the pillow for a second, eyes narrowing in confusion as he looks around. “…a ship? You mean we //are// topside?”
You blink a few times at that question, before realising that ‘topside’ means above ground, as opposed to where he clearly usually lives given the colour of his skin, in the underground caverns of Thym’an.
“We’re not under the mountains, that’s correct,” you clarify for him, ignoring the fact that you’re committing quite a large lie of omission for now.
He stares at you for a few seconds before sighing, seeming very confused. “That explains the lack of technology, at least. But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here.”
You hesitate again before answering.
[[Try and break things to him gently.|ch1a104a1][$decency +=2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[Just go for broke.|ch1a104a2][$annosharden += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>You’re dimly amazed by how calm you feel; even though you can tell that he’s disoriented and unsteady, the fact that someone is pointing a knife at you feels like it should probably cause you at least a //little// worry.
Instead, your senses barely register him as a threat. You’re far more of a danger to him right now than he is to you, even though his weapon has an edge. You’re hoping that you won’t have to do anything to him, mostly because in his state any kind of fighting could end up doing him serious damage, but ‘sometimes when you point knives at people, they don’t appreciate it’ is a life lesson that it seems like he could maybe stand to learn.
He stares at you for a few more seconds, wide-eyed and shaking from the strain of standing, before dropping the knife. It clatters on the floor as he collapses ungracefully back onto the bed, and you retrieve and sheath it carefully.
Standing up clearly hasn’t done his wounds any favours.
“Are you ready to talk now?” you ask him, but the noise he makes back at you sounds like it’s attempting to be a defiant scoff.
Unfortunately for him, you’re happy to sit here in silence and avoid giving explanations if that’s how he’s going to be.
“Where are we?” he asks, eventually, sounding defeated. “I don’t recognise this place.”
You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself. Now comes the part that you’ve been dreading.
“We’re on a ship,” you begin, thankful that his first question was at least relatively easy to answer. “In the surgery, to be exact.”
He lifts his head off the pillow for a second, eyes narrowing in confusion as he looks around. “…a ship? You mean we //are// topside?”
You blink a few times at that question, before realising that ‘topside’ means above ground, as opposed to where he clearly usually lives given the colour of his skin, in the underground caverns of Thym’an.
“We’re not under the mountains, that’s correct,” you clarify for him, ignoring the fact that you’re committing quite a large lie of omission for now.
He stares at you for a few seconds before sighing, seeming very confused. “That explains the lack of technology, at least. But I still don’t understand what I’m doing here.”
You hesitate again before answering.
@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this response<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Decency is too low<<endif>>.@@
[[Just go for broke.|ch1a104a2][$annosharden += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>He hesitates for a few seconds before answering, going very still. “What kind of question is that?”
You’re taken aback by the sudden sharpness of his response; there’s nothing overtly aggressive about his body language, but he definitely seems //tense//, frozen like a deer caught in the gaze of a wolf. You don’t really understand why… surely it’s a fairly obvious question to ask, unless there are more living people in the Underworld than you had previously thought?
“Well…” you start, shifting a little awkwardly as you try to explain your thought process. “You’re alive, but you’re down here in the Underworld. And I thought there must be a reason you’re here if you didn’t come down the way we did…?”
He grunts, seeming to accept your explanation, and unfolds his arms, though somewhat stiffly. “What happened to you all is nothing to do with me. I’d rather not talk about how I got here.”
You blink at him a few times, perplexed. “You found your way into the Underworld while alive… and you don’t want to talk about it?”
He returns your gaze stubbornly, not budging. “That’s correct.”
You don’t really know what to say in response to that.
“I’m only- curious as to whether there’s an easy way back to the living world, I suppose,” you manage to say, trying valiantly to continue the conversation.
“I’ll let you know if I find one,” he replies, and to your surprise his voice has a note of quiet desperation in it, along with an undertone of bitterness.
“You can’t return the way you came?” you ask him, and he huffs at you in obvious irritation.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
[[“All right, I’m sorry. I have no idea what’s going on around here, but if you say it’s nothing to do with you then I suppose I’ll have to trust you.”|ch1v102a1][$decency += 1, $vanator += 2, $vturmoil -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Vanator, -1 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>
[[“Hey, I’m not looking for a fight. Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to, but just know I’m only asking because I don’t know the answers.”|ch1v102a2][$vanator += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Vanator//]<<endif>>
[[“The world is torn in half and you want me to just take your word that how you ended up somewhere you shouldn’t be is unrelated? While dressed like that? Really?”|ch1v102a3][$turmoil += 2, $decency -= 1, $vanator -= 4, $vturmoil += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Turmoil, -1 to Decency, -4 to your relationship with Vanator, +2 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>
<<if $amnesia eq true>>[[“Look, I’m not trying to be an annoyance, but they had to fish me out of the river. The river that removes memories? I’ll never figure out exactly what I’ve forgotten unless I ask about things.”|ch1v102a4][$vanator += 2, $vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Vanator, -2 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because you do not have amnesia<<endif>>.@@<<endif>><<if $codex311 neq true>><<run memorize('codex311', true)>><<set $codex311 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: the standard calendar<</notify>><<endif>>\
He makes a pensive noise, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “I don’t know exactly.”
You raise your eyebrows, not expecting that answer at all. “You didn’t take note of how long you’ve been in the Underworld?”
“It’s hard to keep track of time down here,” he retorts, sounding disgruntled. “You try marking the days without a sun.”
You raise your eyes to look at the illusory sky, still shrouded in scudding grey clouds. You hadn’t really given it a whole lot of thought previously, but the lack of sun seems very obvious now that he’s pointed it out. <<if $race eq "thym’ani">>The underground settlements in Thym’an have artificial lighting that dims for ten hours each night, and every hour is marked with special chimes, but you still understand how easy it is to lose track of time when you’re out in the silent, unending darkness under the mountains. Presumably it must be even harder for those who’ve never experienced it before.
<<if ($faction eq "Hallowed Heart") and ($amnesia eq false)>>
It’s always strange, being away from the sun - it was easier when you were young, before you joined the church, but the sun is one of the most visible and ubiquitous signs of Accharina’s presence. You miss it already.
<<endif>><<else>>The idea of there being no sunlight at all almost makes you shudder; suddenly you understand his vagueness perfectly. How long has it even been since you woke up? How would you tell? The captain said that it’s been two days since the hole in the sky opened, but is she right? Could she even prove it?
<<if ($faction eq "Hallowed Heart") and ($amnesia eq false)>>
The sun is one of the most visible and ubiquitous signs of Accharina’s presence… it feels wrong to be without it, even if you know it must still be shining back in the living world. You already miss it keenly, despite only just realising that it was gone.
<<endif>><<endif>>
“Do you have any guesses as to the timeframe?” you ask him, returning to the original question. “More than a month? Less?”
He’s silent for a while, eyes boring into you, like he’s trying to gauge something about you. You have no idea what it would be, though.
“I don’t think it’s been a year yet,” he responds, eventually, though the words feel like they’re being dragged begrudgingly from his lips.
//Long enough that he’s not sure whether or not it’s been a year. Damn…//
<<if $vanator >= 25>>
“It must have been hard, to spend so much time down here,” you say, wondering how he’s managed to keep himself together for so long.
“It’s-” he begins, and then seems to pull himself back, sighing. “I’m fine. The environment is the least of my worries. And it’s probably the least of yours, too, I would wager.”
It’s hard to argue with his logic, you have to admit.
<<endif>>
“Well… what day was it when you left the living world?” you ask him, wondering if that will be easier. “Do you even know?”
He goes very still, his eyes flickering to your face and away again a few times. “It was… some time after First Fruits, I think.”
You frown, thinking about it. First Fruits - the colloquial name for the festival that marks the beginning of the harvest season, celebrated across most of the continent - was nearly eight months ago now by your count. He really //has// been down here a while.
“Can we talk about something else?” he asks abruptly, sounding agitated.
<<if visited ("ch1v102a") eq 0>>[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if (visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0) and (visited ("ch1v201") eq 0)>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]He turns to look at it, over his shoulder, and makes a low, displeased kind of rumbling noise as he does so. The sound seems to come from right down in his diaphragm rather than just his throat; it’s a very forceful noise for a man who has been, from what you’ve seen so far, fairly soft-spoken.
“I wasn’t looking right at it when it happened, but I definitely heard it,” he replies, once he’s turned back to face you, his eyes dark.
“It was loud?” you press, trying to imagine what it could possibly have sounded like.
He grunts sourly, remembering. “Like thunder in reverse, almost. Thunder if all the sound and lightning was being sucked out of the air. And there was a prickle in the air beforehand, like that feeling when a laser weapon is charging right before it fires.”
Somehow, as he describes it, you seem to feel it, too - or something like a memory of it, a remembered sensation. You wonder if you’re remembering the moment that the gate between the living world and the Underworld was opened… or the feeling he explicitly described, of the moment before a laser weapon discharges.
You’d think that would be something that would be hard to forget. Or you would have, before today, anyway.
“There was a minute or so between the hole opening up and people starting to fall down through it,” he continues, seemingly not bothered by your silence.
You raise an eyebrow. “The captain said that there was no time to process what was going on before we fell through.”
He shrugs, though he also doesn’t seem bothered by your questioning him. “She wasn’t on deck when it first happened. She had less time to come to grips with it.”
You sigh wearily, wondering what this tells you. Nothing that you can think of right now - maybe it’s an indication that the hole wasn’t directly underneath you when it opened? Or maybe there was just a minute’s worth of falling before you reached the Underworld, it’s hard to say.
He gives you a somewhat amused look, clearly sensing that none of this is really helping.
“Anything else you want to ask? Or can I go yet?”
<<if visited ("ch1v102a") eq 0>>[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if (visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0) and (visited ("ch1v201") eq 0)>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]There’s a muffled noise from under his mask that sounds suspiciously like “ugh,” but rather than elaborating, he just rolls his eyes.
“You don’t have anything you want to say?” you press him, intrigued, and he makes an irritated tutting noise.
“Why do you care?”
You shrug. “Just trying to get the lay of the land down here. Is there something I should avoid doing around the captain to keep from pissing her off? Or is it just, uh. You?”
To your surprise, he actually chuckles at that last question. “You could say that, I suppose.”
You stand there, waiting expectantly for him to continue, for a good few seconds before he eventually sighs heavily and gives in.
“She means well. Or, at least, she’s not actively trying to be malicious. But she reminds me of-”
He breaks off suddenly, folding his arms across his chest and grunting in annoyance.
“You two just clash?” you suggest, mildly, and he hesitates for a moment before nodding sharply.
“I don’t think you have to worry about her. She’s dependable, as far as the running of the ship goes.”
You hum thoughtfully, glad about that, at least. Things are difficult enough already; the idea of having to worry about the captain on top of everything else feels like it could easily have ended up being the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“I’ve met Soillere already,” you tell him, returning your thoughts to the conversation at hand, and Vanator nods again.
“He’s good, if chatty,” comes the reply, followed by a pointed look. “Although that may not be a problem in your opinion.”
This time //you// roll your eyes at //him//. “Anyone else in the crew I should watch out for?”
He thinks about it for a second, clicking his tongue underneath the mask. “Well… the doctor’s got a tongue on him. Most of the others don’t talk much - except Gervaise, but I can’t imagine anyone taking exception with //them//.”
“I did notice some of the crew avoiding me earlier,” you muse, remembering. “Do you know why that is?”
He just shrugs. “Wouldn’t you treat them the same way in our world?”
It’s admittedly hard to really say no to that.
“Anything other burning questions?” he asks you, brusquely.
<<if visited ("ch1v102a") eq 0>>[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]As soon as the words leave your mouth, you get the feeling that you might have touched a nerve. His eyes first flash, and then narrow, and he stares at you in silence for a few seconds, seeming to try and find the right words for whatever he wants to say.
“What could //possibly// justify you asking me that kind of question?” he demands, finally.
You flounder for a moment, put on the defensive by his vehemence. “I don’t mean anything //weird//. She’s alive - you’re alive - I thought maybe the two of you might have known each other or something. I didn’t realise I was crossing some kind of boundary by asking.”
He turns away from you, placing one hand on the railing beside him and looking out over the ship towards the stern. You wonder if he’s looking for Our Lady, to make sure she’s not within earshot; you’ll have to remember in future that he seems to be quite set against gossiping about people.
“She was here before me,” he says, flatly, after a long pause.
“And I take it you two aren’t here for the same reason…?” you continue, not sure if he’ll even answer.
He gives you a long look. “I wouldn’t know.”
Judging from his reaction to your question, you believe him. This doesn’t seem like the kind of situation where he’s just keeping information from you… you’d absolutely believe that he would just never have asked her how she ended up in the Underworld.
It’s not a point of view that you really find easy to understand, but then again, he didn’t exactly fall through the magical ceiling to get down here. Before you arrived, he might not have had any reason to assume that there was more than one way to reach the Underworld while still alive - what seem like extremely obvious questions to you might not have even mattered to him.
“I might ask her myself at some point,” you tell him, and he snorts, waving a hand in the direction of the stern like he’s shooing you towards her.
“Go ahead. Unless there’s something else you want to badger me about.”
<<if visited ("ch1v102a") eq 0>>[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if (visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0) and (visited ("ch1v201") eq 0)>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]He meets your gaze solemnly for a few moments - assessing something, as far as you can tell.
“I don’t have //secrets//,” he says, eventually. “I just don’t want to talk about some things.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, amused. “Isn’t that basically the same thing?”
“Not really,” he replies, but rather than irritated, he sounds almost regretful, his voice very quiet. “If it was a secret, I would have made something up to get you to stop asking questions. I just don’t want to discuss it, that’s all.”
You fall silent for a few seconds, contemplating that. It’s true that he could easily have told you just about anything and you wouldn’t have been in a position to doubt him; he’s actually created more of an annoyance for himself by simply telling you to drop it with no further elaboration.
Unlike you, who lied<<if visited ("ch121e") > 0>> to the captain and Our Lady<<else>> to Annos<<endif>> directly.
<<if $vanator >= 25>>
“It must be something very painful, for you to be so unwilling to talk about it,” you suggest, hoping you can skirt around the edges of whatever he’s trying to avoid.
He gives you a knowing look, shrugging in resignation. “It is what it is.”
<<endif>>
You sigh, recognising that you probably won’t get any further with this line of questioning. “Is there anything you //do// want to tell me about life in the Underworld?”
<<if $vanator < 25>>
He fixes you with a displeased stare. “Nope.”
You growl in annoyance, thinking that you should have expected nothing less.
<<else>>
He makes a thoughtful noise, drumming his fingers on his arm. “My advice? Avoid the attendants when we put in at quay temples if you can. They’re always too curious… and you never know which might have telepathy or a particularly close connection with their god.”
The thought of running into telepaths down here hadn’t even really crossed your mind, so you can’t really deny that it’s solid advice - particularly if you end up continuing to keep your background a secret from those on board the ship.
“Thanks,” you tell him, sincerely, but he just shrugs again.
<<endif>>
“Are we done now?”<<if $vanator < 25>> he asks, sounding weary.<<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch1v102a") eq 0>>[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if (visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0) and (visited ("ch1v201") eq 0)>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]He seems to hold his breath for a few moments, before finally sighing and passing a hand over his eyes. He looks strangely tired… you wonder if //anyone// on board the //Wisp// has been getting enough sleep lately.
“No, I’m sorry,” he replies, sounding just as exhausted as he looks. “I know I’m being a little… overly guarded. It’s just that-”
He trails off mid-sentence, eyes fixed on the timbers beneath you both, and you wonder if he’s trying to find some way to fit the things he doesn’t want to say into a palatable enough form to deal with them. It actually makes you feel slightly guilty - he shouldn’t //have// to talk about it, after all.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, then you don’t want to talk about it,” you tell him, and he gives you a grateful look.
“It really wouldn’t be of any use to you, anyway. But I’m sure that must be hard to accept after waking up unexpectedly in the Underworld.”
“With amnesia!” you add, jauntily, and he laughs.
“I’m impressed that you’re coping as well as you are,” he says, seeming to relax slightly, and you shrug with just a little more nonchalance than you really feel.
“I’m sure it’ll catch up with me sooner or later.”
He gives you a look that’s loaded with a mixture of different emotions - sympathy and regret, and possibly a tiny hint of envy. “I suppose you just have to move forward when you can.”
You’re a little surprised by this softer side of him<<if visited ("ch1v201") eq 0>> after how aggravated he was by the captain earlier; maybe she’s just not particularly good at respecting his boundaries. Or maybe it’s an authority thing, it’s hard to say<<else>> after the relative standoffishness of his introductions; maybe it’s just that today isn’t exactly his best day. Or maybe he’s always a little prickly, it’s hard to say<<endif>>. Either way, this seems like the more natural version of him somehow… the version of him without a thousand walls up.
Or, fewer walls, at least. It’s hard to say how many remain when you’ve only just met him.
“Anything else you want to know?” he asks, after a pause, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Or was that it?”
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]He merely grunts moodily in response at first, but then a second later sighs, visibly putting some degree of effort into reining in his emotions.
“I’m not looking for a fight either, believe me,” he says, sounding tired. “Sometimes it just seems like it’s all that’s on offer in this place.”
<<if visited ("ch1v201") eq 0>>
You resist the urge to smirk, remembering his confrontation with the captain earlier. “I’m going to be honest with you… I think it might just be this crew in particular.”
That gets a laugh from him, but it swiftly turns into a groan as he rubs at his eyes with a hand. “You have no idea. I swear the captain is even more argumentative when she’s stressed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tell him drily, trying to imagine either a less or more argumentative version of the captain and failing.
<<else>>
You resist the urge to immediately ask what he’s talking about, thinking that it probably wouldn’t do much other than annoy him all over again.
<<endif>>
After a few seconds he sighs again, looking out over the bow at the view of the strange Underworld landscape beyond. “I’ll do my best not to be too defensive going forward, but there are still things that I just don’t want to get into.”
You shrug, accepting that. “I don’t need to know unrelated personal stuff, that’s fine. Just thought I would point out that I can’t always tell what’s unrelated and what isn’t without asking.”
He nods solemnly, returning his attention to you. “I understand… and I’ll tell you what I can. So, is there anything else you want to ask about? Or was that it?”
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]For a few seconds, his only response to your belligerent questions is to narrow his eyes; eventually, though, he folds his arms across his chest defiantly, and you see a flash of <<if visited ("ch1v201") eq 0>>that same snappish short temper that he displayed while the captain was here once again<<else>>a snappier, more fiery kind of temper than his seemingly constant grumpiness<<endif>>.
“If my choice of attire offends you, please feel free to leave,” he grates, voice dripping with feigned politeness.
You thrust your jaw out pugnaciously, unimpressed by the way he sidestepped the entire content of your complaint. “Do you often hide your face? It seems to me like someone with a reason to keep their face hidden might not be considered all that trustworthy, don’t you think?”
He exhales sharply, almost growling. “Ah, yes, because the person who’s been here since long before weird shit started happening is //obviously// the most suspicious. And not, for example, a peculiarly unharmed $woman directly tied to the event.<<if visited ("ch1v102e") > 0>> A $woman going around asking oh-so-innocent questions about other people on board the ship, for no doubt harmless reasons.<<endif>>”
You glare back at him, feeling your<<if $race eq "wolven">> hackles raising<<else>> blood boiling<<endif>>. “You think //I// had something to do with this?”
He gives you a withering look, seeming to compose himself. “The fact that you can’t even imagine why I might find you suspicious is truly astounding. Why don’t we just both agree to mutual distrust and get on with more important things?”
“You think I threw myself down a hole into the Underworld?” you demand, ignoring him. “That’s what you think happened?”
He rolls his eyes, exasperated. “More than I think I magically had something to do with it, yes.”
You grit your teeth, his sarcasm grating on you. “Maybe you’re just clever.”
“Gods,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose between two of his fingers. “Why did I even bother…”
You resist the urge to feel smug about upsetting him. “Mutual distrust, then?”
He stares beadily at you for a few moments. “Please tell me we’re done here.”
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“We are. But I might be back.”|ch1v103]]Silence reigns for a few seconds as he watches you, his eyes surprisingly soft.
“I did wonder how much you might have forgotten,” he says finally, his gaze drifting over your shoulder - to the river, you presume. “You seemed much closer to unscathed than some of the others, so I thought- but I suppose there’s a lot of things a person can forget before they… forget //everything//.”
You realise, somewhat distantly, that he’s talking about the person that the captain mentioned earlier - the one who had been in the river so long that they were catatonic. It’s a distant realisation only, however, because apparently the slightest mention of how bad things could have been has set your blood pounding in your ears, and you instantly begin to feel faint, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Are you… all right?” Vanator asks, concerned suddenly, as you struggle to maintain your composure.
“Yeah,” you say faintly, trying to swallow down the rising tide of pressure in your lungs. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look particularly convinced.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he mutters, apologetically. “I- I didn’t really think about how difficult it must be.”
You take a few deep breaths, managing to get your body back under control. “I suppose everyone down here has their fair share of problems.”
“And nobody wants to talk about any of them,” he replies, though you can hear the amusement in his voice. “I imagine it makes things unnecessarily tough for you, trying to get your bearings.”
You give him a long-suffering look, and he actually somehow has the audacity to laugh.
“I promise I’ll answer any of your questions if there’s anything useful that I can tell you - it’s just that most of what I could tell you has nothing to do with what happened, and would only make things more confusing.”
<<if visited ("ch1v102b") eq 0>>[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") eq 0>>[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102d") eq 0>>[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102e") eq 0>>[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v102f") eq 0>><<if $honesty < 50>>[[“Look… you obviously have your secrets, and I’m no different. I’m not asking for any information you don’t want to share, but I don’t know ANYTHING about what it’s like down here.”|ch1v102f][$vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Vanator's Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Honesty is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[“All right, I’ll leave you be.”|ch1v103]]He practically sags in relief, an almost comical sight. It does make you realise just how tense he’s been through basically your whole conversation, though; it’s strange, to think that he’s so on edge about just a few questions.<<if $honesty < 50>> Though in fairness, you’re not really any better.<<elseif $vanator < 25>> Then again, your argument with him probably didn’t help. <<else>> Maybe he’ll warm up to you with time… it’s hard to tell.<<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch123") > 0>>
“Let’s hope this is over soon and we can all go home,” you say, in what was supposed to be nothing more than a closing remark, but to your surprise Vanator instead turns back to face you, his eyes hooded.
“I… hadn’t thought about… leaving. Are you going to try and find a way out?”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
“Once everything has been sorted out and the world isn’t falling apart, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re bewildered by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "intervention">>
“Once we can rouse the gods and get them to put everything back in order, absolutely,” you answer. “They might even be able to help us leave, if we’re lucky.”
You have to admit, you find yourself bewildered by his statement, though. He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "answers">>
“Once we figure out what on earth is going on, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re bewildered by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<else>>
You raise an eyebrow at him, baffled by his statement. “Of course! What else would I be interested in doing down here?”
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<endif>>
He lingers for a few seconds longer, eyes stuck firmly to the timbers beneath his feet; you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about.
<<if $vanator >= 25>>
“You’re obviously welcome to come along,” you suggest, mildly. “I wouldn’t leave you behind if you wanted to come, of course.”
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I-” he begins haltingly, and then seems to catch himself, turning away to look out at the river once again. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll think about it.”
<<else>>
“You should come along,” you suggest, grinning viciously. “Surely not even you are so stubborn that you’ll stay in the Underworld just to avoid me.”
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I’ll think about it,” he responds eventually, though his longsuffering tone conveys pretty much the opposite message.
<<endif>>
And with that, he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs with a speed that you feel it’s not worth trying to match, what with your sore ribs and all.
You feel like you’ve been left with a dozen more questions than you had before coming to talk to him… it’s truly impressive that he can manage to be such a confounding mystery when you’re in the middle of some kind of terrible cataclysm that has torn the world asunder.
[[You suppose there’s not much else to do but go back to Soillere and find somewhere to sleep.|ch128]]<<else>>
You give him one final nod and then turn to leave, unsure whether to try and find the captain again or just go and get Soillere in order to find a place to sleep instead. You pause for a second before heading back down the stairs, however, feeling something strange in the air. It’s like a kind of pressure is accumulating… as if you’re sensing the prelude to a storm, only without the damp smell of rain and the billowing clouds.
There’s an odd prickle in the air, like a static charge building up somewhere distant.
<<if visited ("ch1v102c") > 0>>
You swing around to face Vanator abruptly, remembering the description he gave earlier. “Do you-?”
The panic in his eyes instantly tells you everything you need to know.
Before you can react, he takes off running, vaulting boldly over the railing beside you to land on the deck below, and doesn’t stop there, dashing off astern faster than you could possibly follow in your condition.
<<else>>
Suddenly, before you can really process what’s going on, there’s a burst of movement from behind you. Vanator, apparently knowing something you don’t, dramatically vaults over the railing beside you to land on the deck below, hitting the ground running as he dashes off astern faster than you could possibly follow in your condition.
<<endif>>
“Captain!” you hear him bellow, as you make a (for you) valiant attempt at following. “It’s happening again!”
//Well… shit.//
That statement alone is enough to spur you into a run, despite the ache in your ribs. You don’t get far, however, before the loudest sound you’ve ever heard splits through the fake sky and brings you to your knees. It sounds a bit like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half… if the thunderclap was going off an inch above your head and the piece of paper was inside your skull.
Even though you know it’s no use, you clap<<if $race eq "thym’ani">> two of<<endif>> your hands over your ears - you can’t help it. Distantly, you think that behind the clamour, you might be able to hear someone screaming.
It’s possible that it’s you.
<<if ($amnesia eq true) or ($turmoil > 50)>>
Your head is swimming… it feels like your entire nervous system is attempting to leave via your ears despite your best efforts. You can barely see anything, black dots circling your vision like a flock of crows, and even kneeling seems to be too much for you. The //Wisp’s// blackened timbers are starting to look pretty inviting…
<<if $vanator > 26>>
Before you can keel over completely, a pair of boots appears in the periphery of your vision - Vanator’s, you realise. He must have come back to find you.
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You dimly register the expression on his face as concern, and he reaches out a hand towards you, but you shake your head as firmly as you can manage, hoping he’ll get the message.
The last thing you need is to add physical contact to the list of your worries right now.
He backs off, to your relief, disappearing for a second, and comes back dragging a wooden barrel with him, which he leaves beside you. Grateful, you press your face against the smooth, resin-scented wood, and let it take your weight.
<<else>>
Unable to keep yourself upright any longer, you pitch forward, but he lunges to catch you before you hit the deck, grabbing you just in time. Dimly, as he takes your weight, you realise that he’s checking for a pulse, but you can’t seem to muster the ability to tell him that you’re all right.
It’s a bit unnerving that he’s not sure whether you’re alive or not, though, you won’t lie.
<<endif>><<elseif $touchaverse eq true>>
Before you can keel over completely, a pair of hazy, incorporeal boots appears in the periphery of your vision - Soillere’s, you realise. He must have spotted you and come over to help.
You dimly register the expression on his face as concern, and he reaches out a hand towards you, but you shake your head as firmly as you can manage, hoping he’ll get the message.
The last thing you need is to add physical contact to the list of your worries right now.
He backs off, to your relief, disappearing for a second, and comes back dragging a wooden barrel with him, which he leaves beside you. Grateful, you press your face against the smooth, resin-scented wood, and let it take your weight.
<<else>>
Before you can keel over completely, a pair of hazy, incorporeal boots appears in the periphery of your vision - Soillere’s, you realise. He must have spotted you and come over to help.
Unable to keep yourself upright any longer, you pitch forward, but he lunges to catch you before you hit the deck, grabbing you just in time. Dimly, as he takes your weight, you realise that he’s checking for a pulse, but you can’t seem to muster the ability to tell him that you’re all right.
It’s a bit unnerving that he’s not sure whether you’re alive or not, though, you won’t lie.
<<endif>><<endif>>
[[You’ve had better days than this…|ch123]]<<endif>>Whoever is behind this //has// to be brought to justice. Nothing else is anywhere near as important.
Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind you, and you swing around only to watch in horror as one of the dead crewmen behind you is lifted off the deck and into the air, arms flailing wildly as they attempt to grab on to the mast. The rest of the crew immediately begins to panic; some of them try to get belowdecks, while others fumble for ropes, perhaps to try and tie themselves down.
You can still hear the crewman that was sucked away screaming for help distantly over the din.
“All hands!” the captain’s voice rings out, cutting through the hysteria - though you notice that she also looks wild-eyed and scared. “Weigh anchor! Loose the sails and run her about! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
You’re almost swept away by the instant tide of movement that erupts around you, the crewmen all hurrying off in different directions, obviously heading towards their various duties. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“Stay here,” you tell Annos, who just groans and leans back against the stair rail behind him, seemingly not needing to be told twice.
<<endif>>
You force yourself to climb up the staircase, ignoring every painful twinge in your chest, and head after the captain, hoping to catch her before she can make her way any further astern (and up any more damned stairs). Luckily, it seems like<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> has gotten to her in time to keep her from hurrying off; unluckily, however, it also seems like they’re in the middle of some kind of vicious argument.
“We //can’t// leave,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>> is saying, as you approach the two of them, just in time to hear the captain growl in response.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed what’s going on with us lowly dead folk, but members of my crew are being //sucked into the sky//!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> folds their arms stubbornly across their chest. “So? The souls are being taken from random places, not just here. You don’t know that leaving will be any safer!”
“Well staying nearby can’t //help//!” the captain snarls, jabbing a finger in their direction. “We don’t know how the souls are being chosen… what’s going to happen if it sucks the spirit right out of one of you? Or - gods forbid - Our Lady? What do we do then, eh?”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The survivor<<endif>> doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.
“If you don’t have answers, then I suggest you either help, or get out of my sight,” the captain finishes, coldly, before storming away.
[[You have to admit, she has a point. You’d rather not have your soul sucked out if you can help it.|ch125]]Your first priority needs to be figuring out exactly what in all the gods’ names is going on here. Everything else can wait.
Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind you, and you swing around only to watch in horror as one of the dead crewmen behind you is lifted off the deck and into the air, arms flailing wildly as they attempt to grab on to the mast. The rest of the crew immediately begins to panic; some of them try to get belowdecks, while others fumble for ropes, perhaps to try and tie themselves down.
You can still hear the crewman that was sucked away screaming for help distantly over the din.
“All hands!” the captain’s voice rings out, cutting through the hysteria - though you notice that she also looks wild-eyed and scared. “Weigh anchor! Loose the sails and run her about! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
You’re almost swept away by the instant tide of movement that erupts around you, the crewmen all hurrying off in different directions, obviously heading towards their various duties. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“Stay here,” you tell Annos, who just groans and leans back against the stair rail behind him, seemingly not needing to be told twice.
<<endif>>
You force yourself to climb up the staircase, ignoring every painful twinge in your chest, and head after the captain, hoping to catch her before she can make her way any further astern (and up any more damned stairs). Luckily, it seems like<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> has gotten to her in time to keep her from hurrying off; unluckily, however, it also seems like they’re in the middle of some kind of vicious argument.
“We //can’t// leave,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>> is saying, as you approach the two of them, just in time to hear the captain growl in response.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed what’s going on with us lowly dead folk, but members of my crew are being //sucked into the sky//!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> folds their arms stubbornly across their chest. “So? The souls are being taken from random places, not just here. You don’t know that leaving will be any safer!”
“Well staying nearby can’t //help//!” the captain snarls, jabbing a finger in their direction. “We don’t know how the souls are being chosen… what’s going to happen if it sucks the spirit right out of one of you? Or - gods forbid - Our Lady? What do we do then, eh?”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The survivor<<endif>> doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.
“If you don’t have answers, then I suggest you either help, or get out of my sight,” the captain finishes, coldly, before storming away.
[[You have to admit, she has a point. You’d rather not have your soul sucked out if you can help it.|ch125]]The very first thing that you need to do is get the gods to get off their arses and //do something// about this. Everything else is way above your paygrade.
Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind you, and you swing around only to watch in horror as one of the dead crewmen behind you is lifted off the deck and into the air, arms flailing wildly as they attempt to grab on to the mast. The rest of the crew immediately begins to panic; some of them try to get belowdecks, while others fumble for ropes, perhaps to try and tie themselves down.
You can still hear the crewman that was sucked away screaming for help distantly over the din.
“All hands!” the captain’s voice rings out, cutting through the hysteria - though you notice that she also looks wild-eyed and scared. “Weigh anchor! Loose the sails and run her about! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
You’re almost swept away by the instant tide of movement that erupts around you, the crewmen all hurrying off in different directions, obviously heading towards their various duties. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“Stay here,” you tell Annos, who just groans and leans back against the stair rail behind him, seemingly not needing to be told twice.
<<endif>>
You force yourself to climb up the staircase, ignoring every painful twinge in your chest, and head after the captain, hoping to catch her before she can make her way any further astern (and up any more damned stairs). Luckily, it seems like<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> has gotten to her in time to keep her from hurrying off; unluckily, however, it also seems like they’re in the middle of some kind of vicious argument.
“We //can’t// leave,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>> is saying, as you approach the two of them, just in time to hear the captain growl in response.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed what’s going on with us lowly dead folk, but members of my crew are being //sucked into the sky//!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> folds their arms stubbornly across their chest. “So? The souls are being taken from random places, not just here. You don’t know that leaving will be any safer!”
“Well staying nearby can’t //help//!” the captain snarls, jabbing a finger in their direction. “We don’t know how the souls are being chosen… what’s going to happen if it sucks the spirit right out of one of you? Or - gods forbid - Our Lady? What do we do then, eh?”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The survivor<<endif>> doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.
“If you don’t have answers, then I suggest you either help, or get out of my sight,” the captain finishes, coldly, before storming away.
[[You have to admit, she has a point. You’d rather not have your soul sucked out if you can help it.|ch125]]You’d never realised before just how loud and complicated everything on board one of these kinds of ships must have been. Everyone’s doing //something// except for you and<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>>, and there seems to be an infinite number of ropes involved in everything. Even the ship itself is making noise, creaking and groaning as the crew scurry across the deck and up through the rigging like ants.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
It occurs to you that leaving Annos on his own right now is probably not the best idea you’ve ever had. On top of everything else that’s going on, he doesn’t really know anybody but you yet.
You wince and endure your way back down the stairs, finding him basically where you’d left him; he’s watching the crew come and go around him in the way that someone might bewilderedly observe fish coming and going if they inexplicably gained the ability to breathe air and fly.
“So… the Underworld, huh?” he says weakly, once he notices you.
You<<if $annos >= 25>> resist the urge to<<endif>> smirk at him. “I told you you’d believe me if you saw it.”
<<elseif visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>
Tehemia, still loitering nearby, doesn’t look particularly pleased after their argument with the captain. They’re glaring fiercely at the hole in the sky, as though they’re hoping that it might close up and disappear if it gets the message that it’s not welcome.
“Are you-” you begin, meaning to ask them if they’re okay, but they just startle and turn away from you, switching to watching the crew go about their business.
“We should probably help them. They’re… short-handed.”
It’s an impersonal way of describing peoples’ spirits being sucked out of the Underworld right in front of you, but they’re certainly not wrong.
<<elseif visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>
You look around for Vanator, thinking that this is exactly the sort of thing that you could use a person with experience being alive on a ship in the Underworld to advise you about. Unfortunately, you can’t seem to spot him.
You’re briefly struck by the terrifying thought that maybe he was also grabbed by whatever is pulling people into the sky and you just didn’t see it… but you think that if nothing else, his solidity and vivid colours compared to the crew should help you notice something like that.
Hopefully.
You’re sure he’s around here somewhere. Sure of it.
<<else>>
The other survivor, still loitering nearby, doesn’t look particularly pleased after their argument with the captain. They’re glaring fiercely at the hole in the sky, as though they’re hoping that it might close up and disappear if it gets the message that it’s not welcome.
Before you can open your mouth to say anything, they storm away in the opposite direction to where the captain went, and you’re left standing there on your own; even Our Lady and the other living person you spotted earlier seem to be off helping the crew somewhere.
<<endif>><<if $decency > 53>>
You’re not sure how much help you’re actually going to be, but these people fished you out of the river and saved your life. The least you can do is attempt a little manual labour in return.
<<elseif $decency < 47>>
You’re not really overly fussed about the idea of helping out, given that it’s hardly your job, but anything that gets you away from the soul-stealing hole in the sky gets your vote even if only from a practicality standpoint.
<<else>>
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel out of your depth, but any effort to move further away from the soul-stealing hole in the sky is something you can get behind. You should probably try and find something you can do to help.
<<endif>>
You try to take stock of the situation. Ships these days are mostly powered by steam engines, or a combination of steam and sails in some rare cases, but you’ve at least //been// on some before. ‘Weigh anchor’ probably means the same thing as it does on modern ships, while ‘run her about’ as far as you’re aware means to turn the ship right the way around to sail in the opposite direction to where she’s currently facing. And ‘loose the sails,’ while probably requiring more technical skills than you really possess to execute properly, is at least an instruction that’s hard to misinterpret.
<<if $turmoil >= 55>>
The screams of the crewman who was lifted off the deck and into the sky echo in the back of your mind, as clear as if you could still hear them. (You can’t… right?) You take a deep, steadying breath, smoothing down the fabric of your shirt with <<if $race eq "thym’ani">>two of <<endif>>your palms, and try to focus.
You can’t help feeling that maybe those in the crew who were grabbing ropes to tie themselves down might have had the right idea. But there aren’t really any nearby for you to grab… maybe you can find some while you’re poking around the ship.
<<elseif ($amnesia eq true) or ($turmoil > 50)>>
There’s a throbbing pain in your head that isn’t being helped by all of this bustle. You swear that the little disc of agony seems to grow just a bit larger every time you take a step… but now really doesn’t seem like a good time to try and take a rest. You’ve got to keep yourself together for a while longer.<<endif>>
[[Use your physical strength to help secure the lines.|ch126a]]<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>><<if $frc >= 10>> [//You have enough Force to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<else>> [//You do not have enough Force to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>><<endif>>
[[Use your agility to climb the rigging and help let down the sails.|ch126b][$skillcheckpass += 1]]<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>> [//You have enough Agility to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>>
[[Use your fortitude to help wind the capstan to raise the anchor.|ch126c]]<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>><<if $end >= 10>> [//You have enough Endurance to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<else>> [//You do not have enough Endurance to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>><<endif>>
[[Use your quick thinking to tie the lines securely with the right knots.|ch126d][$skillcheckpass += 1]]<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>> [//You have enough Cunning to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>>
[[Use your keen eye to help make sure that the ship can make the turn safely.|ch126e]]<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>><<if $vig >= 10>> [//You have enough Vigilance to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<else>> [//You do not have enough Vigilance to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>><<endif>>
[[Use your people skills to help encourage the crew.|ch126f]]<<if $skillcheckexplain eq true>><<if $prs >= 10>> [//You have enough Presence to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<else>> [//You do not have enough Presence to succeed at this skillcheck.//]<<endif>><<endif>>You may not know a whole lot about sails, but you can see that there’s a lot of ropes involved. Ropes that are loose presumably need to be tied tightly, right? That’s a fairly unassailable application of common sense. You hope.
You spot Soillere over near the port bow, looking like he’s focussed on doing something important, and make your way over to him, feeling very out of your depth.
“<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>Two pairs<<else>>Pair<<endif>> of arms for hire,” you suggest, holding them out in front of you, when he glances up and gives you a quizzical look.
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” he replies, grinning, but you’re reasonably confident that he doesn’t mean anything by it.
He hands you some measure of a heavy length of rope that had been coiled up on the deck behind him, the other end of it attached to something high up on the mast, and then a few seconds later, a piece of sackcloth, about the size of an open book.
“Make sure you’re gripping that instead of the rope or you might end up getting your hands torn to shreds,” he tells you, seriously.
“What’re we doing?” you ask him, trying not to think about that possibility as you carefully wrap the sackcloth around the rope.
He gestures along the length of rope where it rises up into the rigging; there’s a thick knot tied about a metre or so above you, and above that it’s split into a loop that feeds through a pulley. “They’re going to let down the sails. The weight will drag the pulley all the way down to this knot, and then all the momentum will try and rip the rope out of our hands. We have to keep hold of it, and then pull it taut and tie it off to keep the sails from flapping loose.”
<<if $cun > 10>>
“Clever,” you mutter, looking more closely at the pulley system. “And when you have to shorten the sails, you pull the rope back through the pulley to hoist them upwards?”
He laughs, sounding impressed. “You catch on quick! Sadly, it takes more than just brainpower to actually make it work.”
<<endif>>
“Does this really require both of us?” you ask him, somewhat surprised, considering how much else there is that he could be doing instead while you take care of this grunt work.
He gives you a look that sits somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “We didn’t have a crew of three hundred for no reason! The sails are incredibly heavy; it’s too much for one person to wrangle on their own,<<if $frc eq 14>> even a hunk of muscle like you<<else>> even if they do know what they’re doing<<endif>>.”
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“I can help. You can go and see to something else while $pcname and I handle this.”
[[Is that…?|ch126a1]]<<else>>
“Fair enough,” you reply, shrugging, unwilling to argue.
[[You suppose he would know best, after all.|ch126a2]]<<endif>>You decide to take your chances with the sails, figuring that it’s best to go for the activity that you’re least likely to completely misunderstand. You go up; the sails come down - well, sort of. Easy.
In theory, anyway…
You make your way over to the bow where the nearest set of rigging is affixed, and try not to think about what will happen if you slip and fall off into the river… though it’s no worse than the idea of your soul being ripped out of your body and taken away, in fairness.
The ropes are more than taut enough to hold your weight, which is a relief, and within a few seconds your climb takes you away from the water, which is much more of one - it might still hurt to fall off and land on the deck, but at least it won’t mess with your memories.
By the time you reach the first crosstree, it occurs to you that despite already being quite high up, there’s still a lot of rigging left above you. Masts are //tall//. Luckily, it seems that you’re no longer alone; Soillere and a few other ghostly crewmen are making their way nimbly towards you, coming from the rigging attached to the opposite bow.
“Just climb out along the pole and undo the ropes holding the sails up,” Soillere instructs, as he draws even with you. “One of the crew on the deck will handle the pulleys to draw them full. Try not to cut the ropes if you can, but if you can’t puzzle out the knots, then it can’t be helped.”
<<if $agi >= 12>>
You nod, directing a calculating glance along the length of the crosstree - it’s quite long, but you’ve got good balance, and there’s a rope to grab onto, at least. You’re confident you can do it.
[[Let’s hope that confidence isn’t misplaced…|ch126b1][$soillere += 1]]<<else>>
You look out along the wide crosstree you’re currently level with, and wonder if you can maintain your balance along the whole of it.
“I might try one of the shorter ones further up,” you tell Soillere, and he grins, amused by your hesitance.
“Whatever you can manage! They all need to come down.”
[[Hopefully just the sails will come down, and not you…|ch126b2]]<<endif>>If there’s one single thing you know for sure about ships, it’s that a lot of the process of working on them involves no small amount of manual labour. The main upside to this as far as you’re concerned is that it’s hard to do it wrong; it might be backbreaking, but at least it’s simple.
Down on the main deck, you can see a handful of the ghostly crew slowly working to turn a capstan, and you figure that you probably can’t go wrong here in terms of assistance with the application of some good old-fashioned elbow grease.
You make your way down the stairs, dodging some other members of the crew as you go, and approach the capstan, thinking that it’s probably best to just find a free space and join in. They’re trying to raise the anchors - this process, at least, is similar enough on modern ships still - so they’re naturally in need of all of the manpower they can get.
You slip in between two of the spokes on the capstan and put your back into helping the crew push. <<if $frc >= 12>>It’s not as heavy as you expected it to be, all things considered; either the capstan itself must carry most of the anchors’ weight, or it’s lessened more than you would have thought by sharing it amongst the half-dozen of you turning the wheel.<<elseif $frc >= 10>>You can’t imagine doing this everyday as a part of your job; it’s not quite laborious enough to immediately make you regret your decision to join in, but you don’t think it would take more than a week of it being a regular chore for you to consider a career change. Your muscles are already protesting a little.<<else>>Within a few seconds, you’re already wondering why you thought this would be a good idea; every muscle from the back of your neck down to your calves has something quite loud to say about the matter, and forcing yourself to keep stepping forward is like trying to walk through tar. You can’t even conceive of doing this regularly as a part of your daily life… whatever it is you used to do before you lost your memories, you’re certain you weren’t a sailor.<<endif>> The other crewmen on the capstan are keeping to a particular rhythm as they push, timing their steps to make sure that everyone moves forward at the same time, so you put your head down, concentrate on your breathing, and try to match them.
One foot in front of the other… forward… forward… forward…
“Just a little more!”
You look up briefly, in between breaths, to see Our Lady standing in the forecastle, looking out over the bow towards the water - watching the progress of the anchor, it would seem. In her hands is a relatively short, though thick, piece of rope compared to most of the others on board, with a heavy metal hook on the end. The other end of the rope seems to be attached to something on the front of the ship; you can only guess that it must have something to do with raising the anchors, and even then only because she called out to you all.
[[You suppose they must have to do SOMETHING to keep the anchors from just falling back into the water…|ch126c1]]You’re not entirely convinced that you’ll be a huge amount of help when it comes to the various types of hauling heavy things or balancing precariously on ropes high in the air that most of the sailors you can see are doing right now, but where there’s a lot of rope, there’s always a need to make sure that it’s tied securely.
You’re not exactly an expert on knots - at least, not that you can remember - but you generally consider yourself pretty quick on the uptake. At worst, someone might have to demonstrate for you, but after that you think you’ll probably have a handle on how to tie some things at least.
You make your way over to where Soillere and<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> are working to secure a long, thick piece of rope - a line to hold the sails in place, you think. They drag the rope over to the bow, and then, after pulling it as taut as he can, Soillere deftly threads the loose end through and around a small metal object attached to the side of the ship, tying it off.
His hands were too quick to watch in detail, but you feel like you have a vague sense of the directions of the knot, at least.
“You’re probably strong enough to manage the topsail on your own, if you prefer,” he tells<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>>, as you approach. “I’ll just tie the knot.”
The look they’re giving him is decidedly cool - bordering on unfriendly, even. You suppose the two of them must not get along.
“I could do the knot for you,” you suggest, looking a little more closely at the one Soillere just tied.
The metal thing that he looped the rope around has two little… horns, for lack of a better word, pointing towards the aft and fore of the ship respectively. You’re pretty sure you can see how it all fits together.
He gives you a steady, somewhat calculating look. “You’re certain?”
You nod staidly, not sure whether or not you should be offended - then again, it //is// your first day on board, strictly speaking.
“All right,” he declares eventually, handing the smaller rope he’s holding now to<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>>. “Give us a yell if it all goes wrong, I suppose.”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> just snorts dismissively and then signals one of the other crewmen in the rigging.
[[Nothing like a trial by fire…|ch126d1]]You’ve seen the turning circle on some modern ships… the Black River may be wide, but it isn’t quite as wide as an ocean. Chances are that somebody’s going to need to watch to make sure that you don’t run aground, and you’re closer to being qualified for that than you are for anything the rest of the crew is doing.
Taking a deep breath, you press a hand firmly against your injured ribs in preparation and then laboriously make your way up the steps to the poop deck, where the captain is standing behind the ship’s wheel, supervising all the goings-on below. She looks almost like something out of a storybook, with her hands resting confidently on the wheel and her grand feathered hat swinging around majestically as she turns to look at you.
“Need something?” she asks, after giving you a critical glance.
“I thought I might watch the shoreline,” you tell her, shrugging slightly. “Make sure we don’t get too close, or something.”
She gives you an amused look, and you realise suddenly that this is probably part of her job; after a pause, though, she just jerks her head in the direction of the stern, seeming unbothered.
“All right, you can watch the rudder. The turn’s going to take a while, though. You might get bored.”
“How long, exactly?” you ask, moving over to the stern bulwark and peering over it into the black waters beneath.
“Maybe fifteen minutes before we’re facing the way we want to be,” she replies, sounding unconcerned, but the answer shocks you.
“Fifteen whole minutes?”
She snorts, amused. “Why do you think I was so insistent that we leave right away? It’s not as easy as just turning the wheel… we have to keep the wind in our sails wherever we’re pointed.”
<<if $cun >=12>>
You ponder her words for a second, and then realise something. “Hang on… what do you mean, ‘keep the wind in our sails?’ There’s no wind down here at all.”
You look down over the length of the //Wisp//, watching as the crew let down her sails and they fill and bellow noisily, lines thrumming as the breeze plucks at them. The nearby spanker yard rustles and swells greedily as it catches the wind, close enough that you should be able to feel whatever current is filling it.
But the air around you is deathly still. There’s //nothing// in those sails.
The captain gives you a sly look, a grin tweaking the sides of her mouth. “Now, don’t you worry about that, $pcname. We know what we’re doing.”
<<endif>>
There doesn’t seem to be much you can say in response to that, so you instead return your focus to the river below. “So, what am I watching for?”
“We’ll be angling away from the riverbank on the port side as we begin tacking,” the captain replies, matter-of-factly. “Keep an eye on the rudder and make sure it doesn’t scrape against anything, shoreline included.”
[[Sounds simple enough. Hopefully…|ch126e1]]You’re not sure how much good you would do trying to aid the crew with all the various sailing tasks they’re turning their attention to, but you’re not even sure that pitching in manually is the kind of help they need the most right now. Their world - and yours - has literally just been shattered. One of their own had their soul, their whole being, stolen and sucked up into the living world.
They’re terrified and uneasy. Of course they are.
You’re a little surprised, actually; you would have expected the captain to make some kind of speech galvanising them all… but then again, she seems to be in some amount of shock herself.
Maybe you can say something to reassure them. You feel like //someone// should.
You’re just pondering how you should go about this (trying to get them all to stop what they’re doing and pay attention seems like it would neither help nor go over very well) when you spot a group of about half a dozen of them clustered together at the base of one of the masts, talking amongst themselves and looking shaken. It seems like they just got done letting the sails down, but they’re not really moving on to working on anything else.
You wonder if they were close with the person who was pulled off the deck earlier.
Deciding there’s really nothing for it but to dive right in, you make your way over to them as fast as your injured ribs will allow. The group of them looks up at you as your approach, faces apprehensive; you suppose you can’t blame them for being scared of someone who fell through the sky.
<<if $prs >= 12>>
“Listen,” you begin, taking a deep breath, “<<if $priority eq "justice">>we’re not just going to let this stand. The other survivors and I must be here for a reason, and once the //Wisp// has managed to get away to safety, we’ll make sure that they’re brought to justice. Trust in your captain, and the gods, to keep you safe<<elseif $priority eq "peace">>we’re going to do everything we can to help you. Those of us who fell through the hole in the sky are committed to making sure that the crew is as safe as they can possibly be. We’re far stronger together than apart; none of you are alone<<elseif $priority eq "answers">>we’re going to find out what’s going on. I’ll be damned if I can guess, but somewhere around here there’s someone who knows. Trust in your captain to keep you safe, while the other survivors and I look for a way to set things right<<elseif $priority eq "intervention">>we’re seriously out of our depth here. Us regular people weren’t meant to mess around with the barriers between worlds, but that’s why we’re going to go and find the gods, and make sure They put things right. You won’t be in the firing line anymore once we can get Them into the fight<<elseif $priority eq "escape">>we’re all in this together. The most important thing right now is to concentrate on getting to safety, and that’s exactly what the captain’s plan is. We can make it out of this as long as we trust in her and watch each other’s backs<<else>>we’re not the ones who need to put our lives on the line here. Something like this will no doubt attract attention from every government in the world, and probably also the gods. All we need to focus on is keeping ourselves alive, and that’s exactly what the captain’s plan is. You can count on her<<endif>>.”
Your words seem to have the desired effect; the crewmen look less jittery, and a few of them even smile at you, albeit somewhat wanly. They begin to disperse, most of them going back to their tasks with what seems like renewed vigour.
“You a politician?” a voice drawls from behind you, sounding amused.
[[If it’s going to be helpful, you could pretend to be one for a while, you suppose…|ch126f1][$vanator += 1, $skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<elseif $prs >= 10>>
“Listen…” you begin, hoping that your message won’t come across as too trite. “I know there’s really no perfect way to handle all of this, but the captain is doing the best she can. She’s going to make sure we get away to safety - we just need to pull together, and watch each other’s backs.”
The look that one of the crewmen gives you tells you that you perhaps weren’t quite as convincing as you’d hoped, but most of the others seem at least a little less jittery.
“You a school teacher?” a voice drawls from behind you, sounding amused, as the spectral crew begin to disperse.
[[That’s not exactly the message you’d been aiming to convey, but if it helps…|ch126f1][$skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<else>>
“Listen…” you begin, raising your voice slightly in an effort to be heard more clearly. “<<if $turmoil <= 50>>I know this is difficult, but we can’t afford to waste time focussing on our emotions right now. Right now we need to act! We’ll make it through this, somehow, if we give it our all. We can worry about everything later<<elseif $turmoil >= 55>>I know we’re all reeling right now, so I’ll keep this short. We can fall apart later, if there’s time… right now we need to focus. We’re getting out of this, come fire or flood. We just need to pull ourselves together<<else>>I know we’re all on edge at the moment, but that’s why we have to focus. We can’t afford to give in to our emotions when there’s work that needs doing. We can go to pieces later, once we’re free and clear<<endif>>!”
You’re pretty sure that your words haven’t had the effect that you were hoping for, judging by the crewmen’s reactions; most of them don’t really look any less anxious than before, but some of them do at least look a little more determined.
“You new here?” a voice drawls from behind you, sounding amused, as the spectral crew begin to disperse.
[[What kind of question is that? Of course you are. Can’t everyone tell by looking?|ch126f1]]<<endif>>Sometime later - it //feels// like an hour, at least, but without the sun or any kind of natural light, it’s so hard to tell for sure - the ship finally feels like it’s running efficiently enough that you no longer have to wonder if the crew can even keep her afloat. You suppose it must have been easier, in her prime, with a full complement, but it seems that even the Underworld isn’t exactly teeming with people who’d like to spend their time wrestling with an antique ship.
The captain and Soillere, however, seem extremely devoted to her, difficulties involved in keeping her seaworthy and all.
<<if $soillereascend > 5>>
You find yourself wondering just how long the they plan to try and hold onto the //Wisp//. At some point, someday soon perhaps, will the two of them be the only ones left? What will they do on their own?
<<endif>>
You watch them talking for a while as they stand at the ship’s wheel - you’re too far away to hear any of what they’re saying, but their expressions are both grim and drawn. It’s probably the most serious you’ve ever seen Soillere look, and perhaps the most vulnerable you’ve seen the captain.
//To spend multiple centuries working alongside someone… they must know each other extraordinarily well//, you think to yourself, in some degree of awe, as she relinquishes the wheel to him. //Ten times longer in death than they probably knew each other while alive.//
She walks a short distance away from him to the railing and gazes out over the length of the //Wisp//, no doubt seeing the same thing you are; the eerie quietness of the ship, now that she’s been set in motion, drifting onwards down the Black River, her crew mostly belowdecks or slowly working on repetitive tasks like sweeping.
<<if (visited ("ch1a101") > 0) and (visited ("ch126a1") eq 0)>>
Annos has long since given up on trying to keep up with everyone else, returning to the surgery some time ago to get some rest and hopefully heal some more.
<<elseif (visited ("ch126a1") > 0) and ($skillcheckpass eq 1)>>
Annos has long since given up on trying to keep up with everyone else, returning to the surgery some time ago to get some rest and hopefully heal some more.
<<elseif (visited ("ch126a1") > 0) and ($skillcheckpass eq 0)>>
You haven’t heard anything from Annos since he went back to the surgery to lay down, but considering that he clearly needs to rest and recover, you can’t really fault him for that.
<<endif>>
You get the feeling that it’s probably easy to wind up feeling alone down here.
You shake off that feeling - no time for it, not now - and make your way up the steps towards her, the now-constant ache in your chest from your injured ribs twanging with every step.
“$pcname,” the captain says gruffly, nodding at you in acknowledgement as you approach. “You look like shit.”
You try not to take her comment personally, as Soillere guffaws behind you. “Well, I //would// have been resting, but…”
She gives you a long, steady look, as though daring you to say anything bad about the //Wisp//.
“Well, it seemed as though you guys could use the help,” you finish, eventually, being rewarded with a small, thin smile.
“Yes… ironically, we are quite the skeleton crew these days,” she answers, sounding distinctly melancholic.
[[You suppose it must be harder for her, being able to directly compare with how the ship once was.|ch127a]]It’s not all that difficult to find your way back to the surgery, thankfully, and the fact that it’s not that far away either is also nice. The midships is deathly quiet this time, other than the creaking of the timbers; the empty, gloomy hallways are almost unsettling when you’re alone. It puts you in mind of those legends of ‘ghost ships’ that continue to sail with no crew aboard, and you shudder, trying not to think that the //Wisp// probably does fit into that category under at least some definitions.
You knock politely on the door once you arrive, thinking that you should probably make sure that he’s not sleeping, <<if (visited ("ch126a1") > 0) and ($skillcheckpass eq 0)>>but although you wait for nearly half a minute, and knock once more just in case, you don’t receive an answer. Gravely, the sight of the blood on his hands the last time you saw him still fresh in your mind, you open the door as quietly as you possibly can.
You just want to make sure he’s-
You take a deep breath, trying not to finish that thought, but it lingers uncomfortably. Would you even be able to tell if he did die? What happens to someone alive if they die in the Underworld? Does anyone even //know//?
It’s dark inside the surgery, somehow even darker than the last time you were here - does the Underworld actually get darker during its ‘night?’ - but fortunately you can hear him breathing, at least. You risk stepping into the room anyway, partially because you can’t remember whether or not you’ve noticed Soillere or the captain breathing, and try to get a look at him, to see whether he looks corporeal or more transparent.
As your eyes adjust to the darkness, they parse some of the shadows in the corner of the room, and you see that Annos looks the same as he always has. Same metallic silvery sheen to his skin, same brassy hair. Same solid, alive presence. He’s just asleep.
Well… never mind, then.
You suppose that you should probably be doing the same thing, really. Your body will probably thank you to take your cue from him.
[[Time to go and find Soillere…|ch128]]
<<else>>but almost immediately there’s a reply.
“Come in.”
He’s sitting up when you enter, legs crossed, as he looks down at a small collection of items arranged in front of him on his bed. On the table beside him is a metallic, fist-sized object - a dodecahedron, you think - which is giving off an impressive amount of silver-coloured light, more than enough to illuminate the room. <<if $race eq "thym’ani">>You’ve seen similar things before, back in the capital, but none as small as this one… they’re usually the size of a painting, built into the walls. You wonder where he could have gotten it.<<endif>>
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” you ask, giving him a look, and he shrugs sheepishly.
“I mean, how could I? After what happened…”
You sigh, rubbing at your eyes for what feels like the thousandth time that day. He’s got a point.
“What are you looking at?” you ask, changing the subject as you move to sit on the stool beside the bed again.
He makes a face, picking up a few of the objects - there’s what looks like a complicated wrench, some kind of small baton, a set of heavy-duty keys, and a collection of other things that you don’t really recognise - and holding them up next to each other as though they’re pieces of a puzzle that he’s trying to make fit together.
“These were in my pockets,” he says, eventually, giving up and dropping them back on the bed. ”I’m trying to… to figure out why I had them. What they can tell me about what happened to me, if anything.”
<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>
You pick up one of the items, a small kind of depressible button on a little block of metal. “Is this… a detonator?”
He just shrugs, waving all four of his hands around helplessly. “I have no idea!”
<<endif>>
You sigh again, considering it all idly for a few seconds. The wrench is the easiest to understand, and also the least helpful - you already thought he might be some kind of miner or manual labourer. The keys could be for //anything//. And for all you know, the baton is just for self-defence.
“I might be able to tell you a few more things, if you have specific questions,” you tell him, finally, since there’s not much else you can do. “Now that we’ve established that this is definitely the Underworld.”
He laughs, not from amusement so much as at the ridiculousness of the situation, you think. “Provided this isn’t all a dream, you mean.”
[[You have to admit, that WOULD explain a lot of things.|ch1a201a]]<<endif>>You make your way gingerly down the stairs towards the captain’s quarters, glad that they’re at least as close by as they are. The door, with its scorchmarks and battle damage, is of course still firmly shut, and you can’t imagine that the captain would be appreciative of you just walking in, so you knock a few times on the hardwood surface, wondering if she’ll even let you in.
“Come!” is the only response you get from inside; her voice is clear and she sounds in control of herself, but the undertone of anger isn’t exactly //gone//.
She isn’t in the forward cabin where you spoke with her and Our Lady earlier, so you follow her voice towards another door in the back wall, this one left open.
“I’m back here!”
You pass through the door into what must be where she sleeps - the grand bed along one wall gives it away, though the scattering of personal possessions is also a pretty good indicator. There are books and charts stacked haphazardly all over the room, maps in varying states of completion littering tables and bookcases and pinned on the walls.
The captain herself is facing away from you when you enter, looking out through the opened stern windows to the river beyond. In one hand, resting against the windowsill, she’s holding another glass of liquor; the other hand is restlessly worrying at a necklace that she’s wearing, one that you hadn’t noticed previously. She startles when she sees you, and hastily tucks it back inside her shirt, hiding it away.
“Didn’t realise it was you,” she says gruffly, turning towards the windows and taking a sip from her drink. “I assumed it would be Soillere.”
“You seemed-” you begin, and then frantically search around for a description that you think she won’t take offence to. “//Out of sorts//, after that discussion with <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the other survivor<<endif>>. I thought maybe I might see if there was anything you needed.”
“I’m fine,” she replies briskly, though her words are somewhat undermined by the giant gulp of her drink that she takes directly afterwards.
You hesitate for a second, before shrugging. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you be, then.”
[[You’re not sure exactly what you were hoping to get out of this…|ch1c101a]]You ask Soillere for directions to where he thinks Our Lady might be found, since you don’t really feel like it’s worth making him step away from the ship’s wheel for; he seems mildly curious about your desire to speak with her, but to his credit, he doesn’t ask, letting you know where her room is and leaving it at that. You definitely notice his raised eyebrows about the matter, though.
It’s not all that difficult to find your way based on Soillere’s instructions, thankfully, although you and he do have somewhat different opinions on what constitutes ‘nearby.’ All of the corridors and doors that you’re supposed to go through seem to appear just after you’ve reached the point where you’re wondering if you’re going in the right direction or not.
Luckily, you’re saved having to count doors by the fact that Our Lady seems to be just returning to her room at the same time as you arrive, coming from the opposite direction.
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") eq 0>>
It’s gloomy down here belowdecks, without the dim light granted by the sky above, and almost everything is in darkness. You think at first that Our Lady must have lit a lantern, judging by the gentle golden glow you can see against the wall in front of her, until she turns to face you, and you realise that the light is being given off by her luminescent eyes.
You try your best not to look shocked, but the apologetic smile she gives you makes it seem like you didn’t do that great of a job. You can’t really blame yourself, though; you’ve never heard of //anyone// with eyes that give off their own light.
“Goodnight, $pcname,” she says politely, barely pausing in the act of opening her door.
You’re slightly surprised by the abruptness of the statement and attempt to leave - but then again, you couldn’t blame anybody for being tired tonight, and it’s not as if the two of you are particularly close.
“Do you… have a minute?” you ask, unsure now if this was a good idea.
She stops then, turning back to look at you with some degree of hesitation.
<<if visited ("ch126c") > 0>>[[Maybe she’s worried you want to ask about the thing with the anchor…|ch1ol101a]]<<else>>[[Maybe she’s worried you want to ask her about her eyes…|ch1ol101a]]<<endif>><<else>>
Her glowing eyes once again provide a soft golden beacon in the darkness belowdecks; somehow, in the frantic mess of everything that had happened since she first took you to talk to Tehemia, you had almost forgotten all of Our Lady’s more mundane mystery.
She looks almost nervous when she sees you… maybe she’s worried that you’re going to want to try and get answers to all of the questions that she poses. Fortunately for her, you suppose, while answers would be nice, they weren’t your primary reason for coming to see her.
“Do you have a minute?” you ask politely, aware that she’s probably just as tired as you, and might have been planning on heading straight to bed before you showed up.
<<if $ourlady > 28>>
“Of course,” she replies instantly, smiling gently, and then steps away from her door to join you.
You’re standing at the junction where two corridors meet; her eyes turn the space into a strangely well-lit little nook as she approaches.
“The ship can be very difficult to navigate, at first,” she adds, once she’s reached you. “But don’t worry, I’m sure you can adjust to it, given some time.”
<<elseif $ourlady < 25>>
She hesitates for a moment, tipping her head to one side slightly, as though weighing whether or not she should say yes. You suppose, after your last conversation, that she’s probably well within her rights to simply go to bed.
“Is there something you need help with?” she asks eventually, taking a few steps away from her door. “I know the ship can be difficult to navigate. Are you lost?”
<<else>>
She tilts her head to the side for a second, seemingly considering it, before stepping away from her door, joining you where you’re standing at the junction of two corridors.
“Is there something you need? Are you lost? The ship can be difficult to navigate at first, but I’m sure you can adjust, given time.”
<<endif>>
“Actually, I was looking for you, specifically. To talk,” you tell her, and then watch surprise <<if $ourlady < 25>>and wariness<<endif>> flash across her face briefly.
[[For someone who puts so much effort into seeming calm and collected all the time, she’s surprisingly easy to read…|ch1ol101b]]<<endif>>He’s still manning the ship’s wheel, of course - you’re not sure how many of the people on board the captain would even consider qualified to do so other than him - but he nods <<if $soillere >= 26>>cheerfully<<endif>> at you in acknowledgement as you approach, so you’re hopeful that he won’t end up being too busy to want you hanging around.
<<if $skillpasscheck > 0>>
He gives you a look as you come closer; it’s something vaguely appreciative and <<if $soillere < 25>>slightly miffed, as though something about you impresses him despite his best efforts<<else>>warm, as though he’s happy to see you<<endif>>.
“You did pretty well, earlier,” he says, presumably referring to your helping out with the //Wisp//.<<if $soillere >= 26>> “I’m glad we fished you out of the river, you know.”
“Me too,” you tell him, smiling, and he grins.
“I’m not surprised.”<<else>> “It’s good to know we’re not alone, with all this going on.”
“I could say the same thing,” you tell him, shrugging, and he grins slightly ruefully.
“I suppose we’re stuck with each other, then.”<<endif>>
<<else>>
He gives you a look as you come closer; it’s something vaguely sympathetic and <<if $soillere < 25>>slightly miffed, as though he feels sorry for you despite his best efforts<<else>>warm, as though he’s been worrying about you and is glad to see you<<endif>>.
“Thanks for trying to help out, earlier,” he says, presumably referring to your attempts at aiding the crew.
<<if $decency >= 50>>
“It didn’t exactly turn out as well as I was hoping,” you reply, sighing, but he just gives you a knowing look.
“There are plenty of people from //my// time who would have done worse, and they wouldn’t even have the excuse of technology having moved on. It means a lot that you gave it a go - you’ll probably get the hang of it quickly, if you want to keep trying.”
<<else>>
You bristle, defensive. “I had to do //something//. If you had wanted me to keep out of the way you should have said.”
He holds up one hand in an ameliorating gesture, shaking his head. “No, I wasn’t- I wouldn’t make fun of you for being inexperienced. I genuinely do appreciate you doing your best.”
“Oh,” you reply, slightly mollified. “Well. Hopefully I won’t mess it up so badly next time.”
He grins easily. “Only way to learn is practice. You’ll be fine.”
<<endif>><<endif>>
Silence falls between you for a few seconds, and you remember the reason that you came over in the first place. You’re still not quite ready to lie down, despite the day you’ve had.
“Do you mind if I hang around for a while?” you ask him, and he gives you a surprised look.
“Uh, sure. Grab a seat, if you like. Or just lean against something.”
You give the idea of sitting down on the deck about a second’s worth of thought before your ribs dismiss it firmly, so you instead rest one hip against the railing looking out over the lower decks - just off to the side facing him, of course, so that you don’t obscure his view.
“Something you need?” he asks, still seeming slightly nonplussed, as though the idea that you might just want to spend time with him is outlandish.
“Just some company,” you reply, amused, and he looks slightly embarrassed at that.
<<if $soillere < 25>>
“Didn’t think I’d exactly be your first choice for that kind of thing, but it’s no trouble.”
<<else>>
“Didn’t think you’d exactly be interested in hanging around with us long-dead folk.”
<<endif>>
You just shrug. “Out of everyone on board, you seem to be the person who’s falling apart the least. Maybe if I’m lucky, a bit of that will rub off on me.”
He smiles broadly at you, the gesture splitting his face and making his deep brown eyes sparkle.
[[Hang on a minute… have you always been able to see what colour his eyes are?|ch1s101a][$soillere += 3]]You make your way down the stairs, ribs protesting with every step; you feel like you and the other living people on board the ship should probably stick together right about now. Regardless of whether or not you agree with the captain’s choice of direction, nobody is going to be helped by <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the other survivor<<endif>> going to pieces, or gods forbid taking the captain’s snarling advice and trying to swim.
Come to think of it… you don’t know if they’ve even been told about the Black River or not yet. They don’t exactly seem friendly with the crew.
You follow their path down onto the main deck, spotting them standing over beside the bow, gazing out at the landscape of the Underworld beyond - luckily, it doesn’t look like they’re contemplating getting in the water.
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>
The tension in their body as they lean against the bulwark is enough to tell you that they know you’re there.
“Everything all right?” you ask them, receiving a dismissive snort in response. “Aside from, you know. All of it, I mean.”
They sigh loudly, turning around to face you and running one hand through their thick curls. “This is all just so wrong.”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
You move to stand beside them, leaning back against the bulwark as you try not to think about how tired you feel. “At least it’s all in the same direction. We’re not losing any time, even though the captain plans to stop at the nearest quay temple.”
<<else>>
You spread your hands helplessly, trying not to think about how tired you feel. “At least it’s all in the same direction, like the captain said. If we decide to leave the ship once we reach the quay temple to resupply, we won’t have lost any time.”
<<endif>>
They don’t seem as comforted by that as you were hoping for, but then again, nothing that’s going on currently is exactly easy to instil comfort about.
“I’m not usually like this, you know,” they tell you, sounding slightly overwhelmed. “Back home, they all know me as the person who can handle //anything//.”
<<if $tehemiaopenness > 5>>
“I think we all get a free pass on not being totally on top of what amounts to someone ripping the entire world apart,” you reply, gently, and they groan, rubbing at their eyes with the heels of their hands.
<<else>>
“I think we’re all pretty much in the same boat with regards to handling this particular mess - terrible pun about ships notwithstanding,” you reply, and they snigger in response.
“Same //boat//. Good one!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol03a") > 0>>
“I actually said the same thing to Our Lady earlier,” you admit, grinning. “That time it was by accident, though.”
<<endif>>
They sigh once more, amusement vanishing from their face, and rub tiredly at their eyes with the heels of their hands.
<<endif>>
“Listen…” you begin, trying to sound more encouraging than you feel. “We need to stick together here. This whole time, you’ve seemed like something was bothering you beyond just… everything that’s going on. I’m probably your best chance to talk it out with someone, at least before the last survivor wakes up. So, if you want to talk it over… let’s talk.”
[[They give you a long, contemplative look. You really can’t tell what’s going on in their head…|ch1t101b]]<<else>>
Up close, you can finally get a better look at their unusual clothing; it seems to be made of a thick, almost waterproof-looking fabric, finely-woven and dyed in varying sheens of brown and gold. A skirt the colour of tree bark falls to their knees, over which rests a woven belt of cloth and hide, decorated with tokens and discs carved from bone and shell, while a loose, shapeless garment in a shimmering golden colour adorns their upper torso. Their thick midriff and feet are both bare, displaying a multitude of scars.
You suppose this must be how people from the southern islands dress… you’ve never actually met any before.
You’re just about to clear your throat to get their attention when they sigh loudly.
“I’m fine, you know.”
They turn to face you abruptly, straightening up; they’re quite short, not much more than a metre and a half tall, but their arms are muscular enough to make the idea of teasing them about their height seem unwise. They have a wide, flat nose, and very forward-set brown eyes that disappear under their tumble of thick, chin-length black curls as they cross their arms to inspect you just like you’re inspecting them.
Much of their bulk seems to be centred in their torso and arms, particularly the shoulders, but they seem solid enough all over, at least from what you can see. Their build looks a little like that of a swimmer, though the scars tell you clearly enough that swimming probably isn’t //all// they do.
[[It's probably about time the two of you were actually introduced…|ch1t101a]]<<endif>>You ask Soillere for directions to where he thinks <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>Vanator<<else>>the other living person on board<<endif>> might be found, since you don’t really feel like it’s worth making him step away from the ship’s wheel for; he seems mildly curious about your desire to speak with <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>Vanator again<<else>>them<<endif>>, but to his credit, he doesn’t ask, letting you know a few of the spots where the crew usually goes to look for <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>> and leaving it at that. You definitely notice his raised eyebrows about the matter, though.
You decide to try looking for <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>Vanator<<else>>them<<endif>> out on the deck first, partially because it doesn’t require you to go down a lot of stairs, and partially because you feel like hunting <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>> down in <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> room if <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>he’s<<else>>they’ve<<endif>> already gone to bed is probably not going to be particularly appreciated.
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>As before, t<<else>>T<<endif>>he trip from the stern all the way towards the bow of the //Wisp// is just long enough to make you regret the journey; your ribs are truly unimpressed<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>> this time around<<endif>>. It seems that <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the other survivor<<endif>> has disappeared by now after their argument with the captain, as you don’t see them around in the vicinity of the mainmast, but there’s no real indication of where they might have gone.
You do spot <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>Vanator<<else>>the other living person<<endif>>, though - or at least <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> leg, one heel kicking idly against the foremast out in the open where you can see it.
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>
You struggle your way up the stairs to the forecastle, and, to your surprise, you find him leaning back against the foremast, eyes turned skywards as he gazes up at the artificial ceiling, the folds of his black cloth mask pulled down to reveal his face. He has a tall, prominent nose and a neatly-trimmed, close-shaven goatee, but what really catches your eye is the raw emotion evident in his expression - there’s a kind of undisguised longing in his eyes as he stares up at the illusory sky, along with an air of deep, haunting melancholy.
The glimpse of him with the mask down barely lasts more than a second, however; he seems to notice you very suddenly from the depths of a kind of daze, scrambling to stand up straight and hurriedly pulling the cloth back up to cover his features again.
You wonder just what he could have been thinking about so deeply that he didn’t even hear your approach - you weren’t exactly trying to be quiet.
[[You can’t even imagine how he’d react if you said anything, but it’s kind of a shame he covers his face all the time… he’s really quite handsome.|ch1v202a][$vanatorflirt += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt
[[You’re still caught off-guard by the expression you saw on his face - you don’t know if you’ve ever seen anyone look so lonely…|ch1v202b][$vanatorflirt += 1, $vanator += 1, $vturmoil += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Vanator, +2 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>
[[“Oh, sorry… I didn’t mean to startle you. I assumed you could probably hear me coming.”|ch1v202c][$decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[“I mean, is there any point in wearing that mask now that I’ve already seen your face?”|ch1v202d][$vturmoil += 4, $decency -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency, +4 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>><<else>>
You struggle your way up the stairs to the forecastle, and find them leaning back against the foremast, eyes turned skywards as they gaze up at the artificial ceiling. They’re still wearing the black cloth mask that you noticed earlier, meaning that their eyes are all that you can currently see of their face, but even just from their eyes, you get a sense of overwhelming sadness emanating from them as they stare at the illusory sky.
They don’t react to your presence for a few moments, eyes still on the sky, before they seem to notice you very suddenly from the depths of a kind of daze, scrambling to stand up straight.
“Oh, sorry,” you say, somewhat awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Can I help you?” they ask gruffly, crossing their arms, and you wonder if they’re embarrassed.
“I was thinking we should probably introduce ourselves,” you suggest, and they sigh heavily in response.
[[Well… this is off to a great start, isn’t it?|ch1v201a]]<<endif>><<if (visited ("ch1c101") > 0) or (visited ("ch1t101") > 0)>>Soillere is<<else>>He’s<<endif>> still manning the ship’s wheel, of course - you’re not sure how many of the people on board the captain would even consider qualified to do so other than him - but he nods <<if $soillere >= 25>>cheerfully<<endif>> at you in acknowledgement as you approach, so you’re hopeful that he won’t end up being too busy to be able to help you.
<<if visited ("ch1a201") > 0>>
He gives you a look once you get closer; it’s something of a poorly-concealed smirk, overlaid with a painfully nonchalant expression of innocence. “Taking care of the new arrival, I see.”
<<if $annosflirt > 0>>
You roll your eyes at him, trying to ignore what he’s clearly implying. “The whole amnesia thing is difficult. Thought he might appreciate finding things out from someone else who’s been through it.”
“//Mhm//.”
You clear your throat meaningfully.<<else>>
You shrug. “If I had that many stab wounds, I’d want someone to check in on me, too. Not to mention the amnesia.”
He grins in response, a little more naturally. “Fair enough.”
You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. <<endif>><<elseif visited ("ch1c101") > 0>>
He gives you a somewhat complicated look as you come closer; there’s gratitude in it, along with grief, and maybe also some regret.
“I appreciate you going after her,” he says, eventually, turning his attention back to the wheel.
You’re not really sure what to say in response to that, so you just shrug.
“Something you needed?” he continues.
You nod, clearing your throat. <<elseif visited ("ch1ol101") > 0>>
He gives you a curious look as you come closer, as though assessing you in some way. “You seem to be settling in all right.”
You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, but truthfully you don’t really have the energy to get into a discussion about it right now - whatever it is.
You clear your throat instead, changing the subject. <<elseif visited ("ch1t101") > 0>>
He gives you a curious look as you come closer, as though assessing you in some way.
“I appreciate you going after them,” he says, eventually, turning his attention back to the wheel. “They seemed pretty upset.”
You just shrug, not sure about talking about Tehemia’s concerns behind their back.
“Something you needed?” he continues, after a pause.
You nod, clearing your throat. <<elseif visited ("ch1v203") > 0>>
He gives you a look once you get closer; it’s something of a poorly-concealed smirk, overlaid with a painfully nonchalant expression of innocence. “Making friends, I see.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
You roll your eyes at him, trying to ignore what he’s clearly implying. “I just thought it would be helpful to get advice from someone with more experience in the Underworld than me.”
“//Oh//, yes. //Famously// helpful fellow, Vanator.”
You clear your throat meaningfully. <<else>>
You shrug. “I’ve got no frame of reference for anything going on down here. He’s at least been around for a while.”
He grins in response, a little more naturally. “I’m just surprised you got him talking.”
You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. <<endif>><<elseif visited ("ch1v201a") > 0>>
He gives you a curious look as you come closer, as though assessing you in some way. “You seem to be settling in all right.”
You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, but truthfully you don’t really have the energy to get into a discussion about it right now - whatever it is.
You clear your throat instead, changing the subject. <<elseif visited ("ch127a1") > 0>>
He gives you a curious look as you come closer, as though assessing you in some way. “So, the last survivor finally woke up as well, then?”
You nod tiredly, not sure what else to say. “Looks like he’ll probably recover properly given a bit more time.”
“Good,” Soillere replies, turning his attention back to the wheel. “Something you needed?”
You nod, clearing your throat. <<else>>
However, he gives you a look once you get closer that seems to double as both extremely critical and highly concerned.
“Uh… no offence meant, <<if $soillere >= 25>>friend, <<endif>>but… you don’t look so good.”
You just wave a hand in helplessly resigned acquiescence. It’s about all you can muster the energy for.
<<endif>>“The captain told me - ages ago, right back when you first took me to her - that you could find me some place to sleep. Is that still true?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
You shrug, unable to refute him. “It’s not every day you see peoples’ souls being pulled into the illusory sky.”
He presses his lips together firmly, his worried eyes betraying a concern that he’s otherwise been doing a good job at hiding. “No… never in my experience, in fact.”
After a few seconds, he runs a hand over his face and sighs loudly, seeming to deliberately swallow down his worries. Then he holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\The words exit your mouth before you can even think about them, let alone the meaning behind them; it’s bold of you, considering that you just admitted that you believe you’ve only known him a matter of hours, but there’s just something about him that makes the statement feel true. His appearance is distinctive enough, let alone his attitude and personality… you do feel like overall he’s fairly unforgettable, Black River or no.
<<if $annosharden eq 20>>
You seem to catch him off-guard slightly - there’s surprise in his eyes as he meets your gaze, as well as amusement - but he recovers quickly, his bottom pair of eyes trailing down over you in an inspection.
“You’re right, of course. Silly of me, to think that I could have forgotten someone like you.”
There’s a note of mischief in his tone that makes you smirk in response, but you can’t help but notice that his reaction to your words remains unexpectedly reserved. He isn’t shy about it (in fact his deliberate looking you over was quite the opposite), but his response //is// very passive, making it clear that any more advances that might be made will be up to you.
Maybe you’re getting a little ahead of yourself…
<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>
You seem to catch him off-guard slightly - there’s surprise in his eyes as he meets your gaze, as well as amusement - but he recovers quickly, clearing his throat to cover up his lapse in composure.
“Well, when you put it that way…”
His eyes twinkle, and there’s a note of mischief in his tone that makes you smirk in response, but you can’t help but notice that his reaction to your words remains unexpectedly reserved. He isn’t shy about it, but his response //is// very passive, making it clear that any more advances that might be made will be up to you.
Maybe you’re getting a little ahead of yourself…
<<else>>
You seem to catch him completely off-guard - his eyes widen almost comically in surprise, and he splutters in embarrassment. For a second he can’t seem to meet your gaze, though he eventually seems to pull himself back together, giving you an amused look. The colour and metallic sheen of his skin means that no blush shows on his cheeks, but you suspect that if it did, you’d be able to see him blushing right now.
“I’m glad that we… I mean, that I haven’t forgotten you, that is. That would… be a shame.”
You wouldn’t have expected him to be quite so shy, but it’s definitely an endearing side to him… you do worry that you might have come on a bit strong for him, though, in this instance.
<<endif>>
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]Maybe it’s because he seems a little less likely to suddenly keel over dead by now, or maybe it’s something to do with the soft silver light being given off by the little device on the table; either way, the sight of him lounging against the wall is hard to look away from. It’s rare to see thym’ani with skin quite as metallic as his - you find yourself wondering if he’s //ever// seen the sun - but combined with the sparkling green of his eyes, it makes him undeniably striking. He almost looks like a statue, like metal come to life.
<<if $annosharden eq 20>>
The expression on his face tells you that he’s noticed you noticing him;<<if $annos < 25>> he gives you a sideways look, his lips twisting into what looks like a wry grin<<else>>he raises an eyebrow at you in response, as if daring you to say something<<endif>>.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like no one they’ve ever seen before?” you ask him, emboldened by his response, and he laughs out loud.
“Not often. Certainly not often in a way that’s particularly flattering.”
“Well… I’m glad I could add one to your count,” you tell him, smirking, and he gives you a long, impassive look, seemingly considering something.
<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>
He seems to notice that you’re looking at him, if the way his eyes keep flicking to your face and back away again is any indication. It’s a little hard to gauge what he’s thinking from his reaction - he doesn’t seem bothered, but he does look slightly sheepish<<if $annos < 25>> and a little confused<<endif>>.
You’re somewhat surprised by his very passive reaction… although you suppose he //is// still currently recovering from serious wounds. In retrospect, it’s possible now isn’t exactly the best time to be making eyes at him, although at least it doesn’t seem to have upset him.
<<else>>
He seems to notice that you’re looking at him, if the way he averts his gaze sheepishly to the wall on the other side of him is any indication. <<if $annos >= 25>>You almost think you should apologise for making him uncomfortable, but there’s a slight twist to his lips that looks a bit like a smile…<<else>>He seems confused… you suppose it’s true that the two of you haven’t started off on the best foot, but you’re not sure why that should be an impediment to you appreciating his looks.<<endif>>
You’re somewhat surprised by his very passive reaction… although you suppose he //is// still currently recovering from serious wounds. In retrospect, it’s possible now isn’t exactly the best time to be making eyes at him.
<<endif>>
You clear your throat, thinking it might be best to move on.
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]<<if $honesty < 50>>The sincerity of your words is a bit of a shock to you; you’re not exactly the most open person in the world, if you’re being honest. But something about Annos seems to make the sentiment true, somehow, whether you’re guarded with everyone else or not.<<else>>If someone were to ask you where the sentiment had come from, you’re not entirely sure if you’d be able to tell them, at least not coherently. You don’t consider yourself particularly closed off or unemotional, but there’s just something about Annos that seems to reach out and grab you.<<endif>>
It should be overwhelming… should be a matter of concern, really. You //just// told him that you believe you’ve only known each other since today. But having somebody who understands, somebody who’s going through the same thing as you right now, is somehow a kind of comfort that you didn’t even know you needed.
<<if $annosharden > 10>>
He’s silent for a few seconds, watching you - you wonder briefly if you might have come on slightly too strong, but he doesn’t seem offput by your statement, exactly. If anything, you think that maybe the look in his eyes is one of yearning, like he wishes he believed your words.
“I hope you’re right,” he says, eventually, his voice solemn, but he gives you a small smile afterwards, as though he doesn’t want to worry you. “I’ll do whatever it takes, whatever we need, to try and make it happen.”
“We’ll do it together,” you repeat, but he just shakes his head slightly, seeming amused.
<<else>>
The look he gives you in response is almost enough to stop your heart - you suppose it must be a comfort to him in the same way that it is to you. His eyes are wide, partially in surprise, but you catch a glimpse of a whole array of different emotions in their depths.
The one that really knocks you off-balance is hope.
“Thank you,” he replies, hoarsely, his top set of eyes still locked with yours, though his lower pair flicker away suddenly, down to his free hands.
<<if $touchaverse eq false>>
He reaches out hesitantly towards you, and without thinking you give him <<if $race eq "thym’ani">>one of your hands<<else>>your hand<<endif>> in return. His fingers are exceptionally warm when they touch yours… you wonder if he might have a fever.
<<else>>
He doesn’t seem to know what else to say, although given the day you’ve both had, you hardly feel like you can blame him.
<<endif>><<endif>>
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]You lean back on your stool slightly for a second, struck suddenly by just how much compassion he has, to be concerned about what to do for the people he might have forgotten in this situation rather than for his own recovery. It’s hard to think of anyone who has it worse, right now… but he’s still busy worrying about other people.
He seems to notice you looking at him, blinking a few times and raising one of his hands to his face like he thinks there might be something stuck to it. “What?”
You smile at him, charmed. “Just admiring your incredible determination to think of others before yourself.”
<<if $annosharden > 10>>
He gives you a loaded look in response, something knowing and resigned and slightly embarrassed all at once. It’s hard to gauge exactly what he’s thinking, but you think he might have expected you not to notice that he was pushing so much focus away from himself. <<if $annos < 25>>It’s true that you didn’t exactly start off on the best footing, so you can understand why he’d be surprised to a certain degree.<<endif>>
“Sometimes you just have to,” he replies, in the end, in what appears to be an attempt to sound nonchalant.
“I suppose I’ll just have to worry about you instead, then,” you tell him, and he chuckles in response, shaking his head slightly.
<<else>>
For a brief moment, the only expression visible on his face is undisguised surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a mixture of shyness and embarrassment<<if $annos < 25>>, and some degree of confusion<<endif>>.
“I mean… if you say so,” he mumbles, averting his gaze sheepishly.
He seems embarrassed more by the scrutiny than by the sentiment, you think - you can hardly imagine him not wanting other people to know he cares, given how he behaves.
“I suppose I’ll just have to worry about you myself, then,” you tell him, and he smiles shyly.
“Well… that doesn’t sound so bad.”
<<endif>>
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]<<if $annosharden > 10>>He’s silent for a few seconds, face impassive as he stares at the objects on his bed again. “I suppose I hadn’t thought about the fact that there might be people looking for me, not knowing whether I survived or not. I wonder how I would even go about finding them.”
“We’ll probably have to keep an eye out for anyone interested in what’s going on anyway,” you reply, considering it. “Even if only to keep out of their way, if it turns out to be whoever caused it. I feel like we could find anyone who’s looking for either of us without too much trouble.”
He nods absently, seemingly lost in thought.
<<else>>He’s silent for a few seconds, looking as though he might be slightly overwhelmed by your words.
“Thank you,” he replies earnestly, in the end, clasping his free hands together and giving you a small smile. “I’m glad I’m not going through this alone. I don’t know what I would do… I mean, I can’t imagine how I would manage on my own.”
“You seem pretty resilient,” you tell him, returning his smile. “I think you’d find a way. It just might be a little harder.”
He chuckles at that - carefully, with a hand on his stomach. “I suppose it’s hard to argue, given that I’m lucky enough not to have to find out firsthand.”
<<endif>>
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]<<if visited ("ch1a104b") > 0>>He grins ruefully at you in response. “I can relate. I promise I don’t draw knives on people all that often - not that I can remember, anyway.”
You laugh, thinking that he has nothing to worry about. “Hey, I’m not holding it against you. I’d probably be pretty suspicious if I woke up in the Underworld with a bunch of wounds, too.”
<<endif>>He chuckles at that - carefully, with a hand on his stomach. “Go on, then. Tell me your worst one.”
You click your tongue thoughtfully, considering it. “<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>Screamed out loud when I first saw the sun in front of a family friend who’d come to meet me for the first time<<elseif $race eq "lamerran">>My soul-familiar ate or damaged all of the produce one day from what turned out to be my new favourite store and the owner never let me live it down<<elseif $race eq "wolven">>Met one of my teachers once for the first time while I was in wolf form, howling at a possum in a tree<<else>>I was complaining about somebody to a friend of mine once and they were right behind me… also it turned out the thing I was complaining about was a big misunderstanding<<endif>>.”
He snorts in amusement, though to his credit he does also look somewhat sympathetic. “Yeah, I can see how that would be tough to come back from.”
You shrug affably. “I haven’t quite managed to embarrass myself so much that I can’t recover… //yet//.”
He laughs again, eyes shining. “Nice emphasis.”
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]<<if $annosharden > 18>>He nods solemnly in response, eyes fixed on the items on his bed once again. “I know. I’m not ready to give up on answers yet, but… I know they can’t be my primary focus.”
“There’s no harm in exploring all the avenues that are open to us along the way,” you reply, hoping that he didn’t think you were criticising him. “Just…”
“I won’t let it distract me,” he replies, calmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Don’t worry.”
“We’ll get through this,” you declare, sighing, as you rub tiredly at your eyes. “I know we will.”
“That’s what’s important,” he murmurs, exhaling heavily.
<<else>>He nods regretfully in response, closing his eyes for a moment. “You’re right. I kept telling myself that I could sort everything out if I just put my mind to it, but… we’re not dealing with regular forces here.”
“There’s no harm in exploring all the avenues that are open to us along the way,” you reply, hoping that he didn’t think you were criticising him. “Just…”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t distract me too much,” he replies, grimly, his lips pressed into a frown. “Don’t worry.”
“We’ll get through this,” you declare, sighing, as you rub tiredly at your eyes. “I know we will.”
“That’s what’s important,” he murmurs, so quiet you almost can’t hear him.
<<endif>>
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, and he gives you a rueful look in response. “Me too, for that matter.”
“I just… wanted to figure //something// out,” he says, also sighing.
“There’s still time,” you reply, although you have to admit you know how he feels. “Maybe once our bodies are doing better, our brains will catch up finally.”
<<if $annosharden >= 20>>He frowns, all of his eyes narrowed as he returns to looking over the items on the bed in front of him once more.<<elseif $annosharden > 10>>He groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his hands once more.<<else>>He laughs, although weakly, gathering up the items on the bed in front of him and returning them to the table.<<endif>> “Let’s hope so.”
<<if $annos >= 30>>
“Feel better soon,” you say, meaning it, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool.
“You too,” he replies, smiling easily.
<<elseif $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he smiles briefly at you in return.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]“It will be bloody and hard, and unfair,” you add, your voice bitter, “one way or another. It already is.”
<<if $annosharden > 16>>
He gives you an infuriatingly calm stare, seemingly not perturbed at all by your words. “You’re only going to make it harder for yourself if you get hung up on how bad it all is. I can see why you would think that talking about what we’re going through is a bad idea, since you can’t seem to keep control of yourself while thinking about it.”
“That sounds like a reprimand,” you reply, irked, but he just shrugs.
“Take it however you like.”
<<else>>
“You think //I// don’t know that?” he responds, sounding angry for the first time since you met him. “I’m not looking for pity. I just thought perhaps that you, going through the same thing, would understand my desire for answers.”
“This isn’t a fairytale,” you tell him, flatly. “Sometimes there’s no moral to the story.”
“Clearly,” he replies, nostrils flaring. “And no heroes either, I’ll wager. I guess I’ll just have to get used to disappointment.”
<<endif>>
Before you can say anything else, however, he yawns widely-seemingly despite his best efforts, considering how he shakes his head firmly afterwards like he’s trying to keep himself awake.
“You should probably get some sleep,” you tell him, gruffly, not exactly sorry about the excuse to leave. “Me too, for that matter.”
“Better than fighting,” he replies, <<if $annosharden > 16>>drily<<else>>sounding irritated<<endif>>.
You choose to ignore that comment, for the sake of your headache.
<<if $annos >= 25>>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say wearily, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he snorts in resignation.
<<else>>
“Get some rest,” you say phlegmatically, as you painstakingly raise yourself off your stool, and he nods absently in return.
<<endif>>
You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even take your advice, as you shut the door to the surgery behind you; he’ll have to give in eventually, of course, but right now he seems to be the complete opposite of relaxed. You might also say the same about yourself, though, in fairness.
[[You suppose there’s nothing left to do but return to Soillere and hope he can find you somewhere to lie down.|ch128]]She makes a soft noise in her throat, something that almost sounds like a stifled sob, though her eyes remain fixed on the floor as she avoids your gaze. “Holding on? No, holding on isn’t the hard part. Holding on is the easiest thing in the world, compared to losing everything in the first place.”
“It doesn’t seem like it’s made you any happier,” you point out, gently. “There’s presumably some reason that most souls eventually decide to let go and move on.”
Her mouth sets into a hard line, the muscles in her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. You suppose it must be a sore subject for her - although she doesn’t look mad at you in particular, at least. Just frustrated with the overall situation.
After everything that’s happened today… you feel like you can relate to some extent.
Her blue-grey eyes are distant as she stares out the window once more; you wonder what remembered stretch of the sea she’s seeing out there. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you’re struck by the realisation that the difficulty you had in perceiving her when you first woke up seems to be fading - she doesn’t look as transparent as she once did, and you could have sworn that your eyes had been clearly registering a pink flush on her cheeks before you realised that those kinds of colours hadn’t always been visible when looking at her.
Is it because you’ve been in the Underworld for longer now? Do all of the dead look as solid as they did in life to each other? Or is it something to do with the rift between the living world and this one, maybe… the lines between dead and alive becoming blurred? You don’t even know //what// to think about that possibility.
The captain, heedless of your minor existential crisis, returns to her morose contemplation of her drink.
“I think there are some things that it’s better not to let go of, even if they hurt,” she replies, eventually, draining the remainder of her glass. “Things, and events, and… people… hanging by a thread, abandoned by everyone else, that shouldn’t be given up on. How could I let go? //Someone// has to hold on.”
[[“The gods don’t abandon anything, and They wouldn’t expect you to carry a burden like that on your own, anyway. You can trust in Them, if you’re afraid.”|ch1c102a1][$bettinaascend += 1, $faith += 2, $decency += 1, $bettina += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith, +1 to Decency, +1 to your relationship with Bettina, +1 to Bettina’s Ascension stat//]<<endif>>
[[“Nobody can keep the world turning on their own, captain. You don’t owe eternity to anybody or anything, even if you think it’s deserved.”|ch1c102a2][$bettina += 2, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Bettina//]<<endif>>
[[“Whatever your reasons, it still seems like it might be taking its toll on you, especially now.”|ch1c102a3]]She makes a disgruntled noise, her eyes fixed on the floor as she avoids your gaze. “I suppose it’s a matter of… better the torment you know, and all that. Maybe there won’t be any sailing at all, in my next life. Maybe I won’t even miss it.”
“Some people would probably consider that a part of the appeal,” you say, shrugging. “The fact that you don’t even remember you miss it, I mean. If you can’t feel a torment, does it really count as a torment?”
Her mouth sets into a hard line, the muscles in her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. You suppose it must be a sore subject for her - although she doesn’t look mad at you in particular, at least. Just frustrated with the overall situation.
After everything that’s happened today… you feel like you can relate to some extent.
Her blue-grey eyes are distant as she stares out the window once more; you wonder what remembered stretch of the sea she’s seeing out there. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you’re struck by the realisation that the difficulty you had in perceiving her when you first woke up seems to be fading - she doesn’t look as transparent as she once did, and you could have sworn that your eyes had been clearly registering a pink flush on her cheeks before you realised that those kinds of colours hadn’t always been visible when looking at her.
Is it because you’ve been in the Underworld for longer now? Do all of the dead look as solid as they did in life to each other? Or is it something to do with the rift between the living world and this one, maybe… the lines between dead and alive becoming blurred? You don’t even know //what// to think about that possibility.
The captain, heedless of your minor existential crisis, returns to her morose contemplation of her drink.
“I think there are some things that it’s better to remember, even if they hurt,” she replies, eventually, draining the remainder of her glass. “Things, and events, and… people… forgotten by everyone else, that shouldn’t be left behind. //Someone// has to remember.”
[[“The gods remember. Nabhuti knows everything that every person who has died ever thought… and She won’t ever forget.”|ch1c102b1][$bettina += 1, $bettinaascend += 1, $faith += 2, $decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith, +1 to Decency, +1 to your relationship with Bettina, +1 to Bettina’s Ascension stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I don’t doubt that you have your reasons. It just seems like it might be taking its toll on you, at this point.”|ch1c102b2]]
[[“I admire your resolve, believe me. The idea of giving up my entire self… scares the crap out of me.”|ch1c102b3][$bettina += 2, $faith -= 2, $bettinaascend -= 1, $decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Faith, +1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Bettina, -1 to Bettina’s Ascension stat//]<<endif>>She makes a disgusted noise, rolling her eyes. “You people always think you’re the first person to ever tell anybody that.”
You shrug, somewhat amused. “Maybe if you hear something from a lot of different people, you should consider listening to it.”
Her mouth sets into a hard line, the muscles in her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. You suppose it must be a sore subject for her - though in fairness, she did //die//. That sort of thing is probably enough to be a sore subject for anybody.
It’s likely that some things are inescapably touchy, no matter who you’re talking to… after everything you’ve seen today, you feel like that’s as close as something can come to being a universal truth.
It always hurts. But by that same rule, no one’s pain is uniquely terrible. Everyone’s dealing with the same bad ending, in one way or another.
Her blue-grey eyes are hard as she stares out the window once more; you wonder what remembered stretch of the sea she’s seeing out there. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you’re struck by the realisation that the difficulty you had in perceiving her when you first woke up seems to be fading - she doesn’t look as transparent as she once did, and you could have sworn that your eyes had been clearly registering a pink flush on her cheeks before you realised that those kinds of colours hadn’t always been visible when looking at her.
Is it because you’ve been in the Underworld for longer now? Do all of the dead look as solid as they did in life to each other? Or is it something to do with the rift between the living world and this one, maybe… the lines between dead and alive becoming blurred? You don’t even know //what// to think about that possibility.
The captain, heedless of your minor existential crisis, returns to her grumpy contemplation of her drink.
“Is this your idea of ‘what I need’?” she asks, eventually, draining the remainder of her glass. “Because if so, I can tell you that it wasn’t bloody helpful.”
[[“Sorry… I know it must be difficult to talk about. I suppose I’m not as qualified to help as I was hoping for.”|ch1c102c1][$bettina += 2, $decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Bettina//]<<endif>>
[[“Hey, I didn’t promise to solve all your problems, just to listen. It’s not my fault that you don’t like everybody’s advice.”|ch1c102c2][$bettina -= 3, $decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -3 to your relationship with Bettina//]<<endif>>
[[“What people ‘need’ isn’t always soft or flexible. The gods didn’t make a mistake when They made things the way they are.”|ch1c102c3][$faith += 2, $bettina -= 2, $decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Faith, -2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Bettina//]<<endif>>There’s a faraway look in her eyes, something terribly sad and lonely, and you find yourself wondering if you haven’t inadvertently made things worse.
“Even the Spectral Knights don’t carry out their vigil alone,” you add, hoping that that will be more encouraging, but she just shakes her head.
“After all this time, I couldn’t… how can I give up, before-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“We all walk a different path on our way towards the end that the gods have designed,” you tell her, softly, wishing there was more you could offer. “No step is wasted, even if you regret it later. The journey is what’s important, in and of itself.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder, as you leave.
“Oh, $pcname…” she responds from the doorway, just as you’re opening the cabin door. “Thanks for stopping by. Sleep well.”
Before you can respond, she disappears again, closing the door into her room behind her.
[[Maybe you really did help her, even if just a little bit…|ch128]]She sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves as she stares at the floor. “That’s easy for you to say. I’ve waited this long, I can’t just-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“No one would think any less of you, captain,” you tell her, wishing there was more you could offer. “Whether you stay //or// go. I just think you should make sure you’re doing it because you want to, and not out of any sense of obligation that you really don’t have to fulfil.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder as you leave.
“Oh, $pcname…” she responds from the doorway, just as you’re opening the cabin door. “Thanks for stopping by. Sleep well.”
Before you can respond, she disappears again, closing the door into her room behind her.
[[Maybe you really did help her, even if just a little bit…|ch128]]She groans, resting her elbows on her knees as she leans forward, staring at the floor. “You aren’t wrong. But what am I supposed to do? I’ve waited this long, I can’t just-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“Things change, captain,” you tell her, somewhat listlessly. “You said it yourself, earlier. What was the answer at one point in time might no longer be helpful later on… everyone will understand. It’s just the way life is. Well… life, and the other thing.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder as you leave.
<<if $bettina > 30>>
“Oh, $pcname…” she responds from the doorway, just as you’re opening the cabin door. “Thanks for stopping by. Sleep well.”
Before you can respond, she disappears again, closing the door into her room behind her.
[[Maybe you really did help her, even if just a little bit…|ch128]]<<else>>
[[She doesn’t respond; you wonder if she regrets you coming by. Then again, she seemed more depressed in general than upset with you specifically…|ch128]]<<endif>>There’s a faraway look in her eyes, something terribly sad and lonely, and you find yourself wondering if you haven’t inadvertently made things worse.
“Nothing is ever really forgotten,” you add, hoping that that will be more encouraging, but she just shakes her head.
“After all this time, I couldn’t… how can I give up, before-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“We all walk a different path on our way towards the end that the gods have designed,” you tell her, softly, wishing there was more you could offer. “No step is wasted, even if you regret it later. The journey is what’s important, in and of itself.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder as you leave.
“Oh, $pcname…” she responds from the doorway, just as you’re opening the cabin door. “Thanks for stopping by. Sleep well.”
Before you can respond, she disappears again, closing the door into her room behind her.
[[Maybe you really did help her, even if just a little bit…|ch128]]She groans, resting her elbows on her knees as she leans forward, staring at the floor. “You aren’t wrong. But what am I supposed to do? I’ve waited this long, I can’t just-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“Things change, captain,” you tell her, somewhat listlessly. “You said it yourself earlier. What was the answer at one point in time might no longer be helpful later on… everyone will understand. It’s just the way life is. Well… life, and the other thing.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder as you leave.
<<if $bettina > 30>>
“Oh, $pcname…” she responds from the doorway, just as you’re opening the cabin door. “Thanks for stopping by. Sleep well.”
Before you can respond, she disappears again, closing the door into her room behind her.
[[Maybe you really did help her, even if just a little bit…|ch128]]<<else>>
[[She doesn’t respond; you wonder if she regrets you coming by. Then again, she seemed more depressed in general than upset with you specifically…|ch128]]<<endif>>She sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves as she stares at the floor. “It’s not about //me//. I’ve waited this long, I can’t just-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“No one would think any less of you, captain,” you tell her, wishing there was more you could offer. “Whether you stay //or// go. I just think you should make sure you’re doing it because you want to, and not just because everyone else says to.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder as you leave.
“Oh, $pcname…” she responds from the doorway, just as you’re opening the cabin door. “Thanks for stopping by. Sleep well.”
Before you can respond, she disappears again, closing the door into her room behind her.
[[Maybe you really did help her, even if just a little bit…|ch128]]She groans, resting her elbows on her knees as she leans forward, staring at the floor. “It’s not your fault… //no one// can help me. What am I supposed to do, though? I’ve waited this long, I can’t just-”
She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated, and buries her face in her hands. You think you understand what she means… after three centuries, giving up on what you had been holding onto for so long would no doubt seem like an admission of defeat. And not only that, like a statement that all the time you had spent clinging to it was worthless, a waste of everyone’s time and energy. A mistake.
“Things change, captain,” you tell her, somewhat listlessly. “You said it yourself earlier. What was the answer at one point in time might no longer be helpful later on… everyone will understand. It’s just the way life is. Well… life, and the other thing.”
She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Gods… I’m tired.”
You aren’t entirely sure if she means that statement in reference to your conversation about the length of her time in the Underworld, or just about tonight in general. Or maybe even both.
“I’m so-” she begins, and then clears her throat gruffly. “And what about you, anyway? You should be getting some sleep right now, I would wager.”
You get the impression that the conversation is over, though whether it actually helped her in any way, you can’t be as sure.
“What’s the plan in regards to that, by the way?” you ask her, thinking that you won’t get anywhere by trying to push her. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Ah- yes,” she replies, sounding relieved to be returning to somewhat easier topics. “I would tell you myself but I don’t know where Gervaise is sleeping as of this week. They’re always moving about.”
You nod staidly, despite having no idea who Gervaise is, and stand up, making your way out of her bedroom.
“Good night, captain,” you call over your shoulder.
[[She doesn’t respond; you wonder if she regrets you coming by. Then again, she seemed more depressed in general than upset with you specifically…|ch128]]She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Well, thank you for your //thoughtful// input, $pcname. Obviously my nearly four hundred years of lived experience is no match for your //vast intellect//.”
You debate the wisdom of pointing out that most of that isn’t “lived” experience, but decide against it, in the end. You do need the captain’s help if you’re going to get anywhere, after all; maybe it wasn’t a great idea to antagonise her even this much, frankly, but you only said what you felt you had needed to say.
Best to let the matter drop here. The captain is certainly giving you the impression that she also believes the conversation is over.
“What’s the plan in regards to me finding somewhere to sleep, by the way?” you ask her, carefully keeping your voice mild. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Yes,” she replies, somewhat stiffly, and that seems to be all you’ll be getting out of her.
Come to think of it, you’re not sure why she couldn’t have helped you herself, but given the conversation you just had, you suppose it would have been awkward to ask.
“Good night, captain,” you say, politely, as you stand up, but she just grunts sourly in response.
[[You leave quietly, feeling like you didn’t accomplish much by coming here. Maybe next time you’ll just let her stew…|ch128]]She exhales sharply, standing up and returning to her earlier position by the window. “Well, thank you for your //thoughtful// input, $pcname. Obviously my nearly four hundred years of lived experience is no match for your //superior understanding of the gods//.”
You debate the wisdom of pointing out that most of that isn’t “lived” experience, but decide against it, in the end. You do need the captain’s help if you’re going to get anywhere, after all; maybe it wasn’t a great idea to antagonise her even this much, frankly, but you only said what you felt you needed to say.
“The reason it upsets you to hear this is because you know in your heart that it’s true,” you tell her, instead, and she snorts derisively.
“Oh, yes, I’m a soul in torment, tearing myself apart going against my nature. //That’s// what this is all about, naturally.”
Best to let the matter go here, then, you think. She’s clearly not going to budge, and she doesn’t have any argument to make in return other than to be scathing. It seems the conversation is over.
“What’s the plan in regards to me finding somewhere to sleep, by the way?” you ask her, carefully keeping your voice mild. “Do I still go and ask Soillere to find me somewhere to lie down?”
“Yes,” she replies, somewhat stiffly, and that seems to be all you’ll be getting out of her.
Come to think of it, you’re not sure why she couldn’t have helped you herself, but given the conversation you just had, you suppose it would have been awkward to ask.
“Good night, captain,” you say, politely, as you stand up, but she just grunts sourly in response.
[[You leave quietly, feeling like you didn’t accomplish much by coming here. Maybe next time you’ll just let her stew…|ch128]]The words sound hopeful as they hang in the air between the two of you; you wonder briefly if they’re true. Are you really //hopeful// about all this? Do you really think this is all going to be solved, and then you’ll go home, regain all your memories, and things will go back to normal?
Maybe it’s more like a form of denial… refusing to believe that anything less than that kind of ending is possible, in order to convince yourself to keep going. Either way, your conviction doesn’t seem to waver as Our Lady digests your answer, nodding thoughtfully.
“I admire your optimism, $pcname,” she replies, smiling gently. “It’s not a quality in high supply around here… it’s quite refreshing.”
You make a face, thinking about the other people on board the //Wisp//. “I suppose dying probably puts a crimp in one’s outlook on the future. I don’t know that we can hold it against them.”
“Of course,” she answers, nodding once more. “That’s why they need you, more than they know. That being said, you should probably go and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
She turns to leave, presumably intending to follow her own advice and return to her room; you instantly feel the absence of the soft light exuded by her eyes.
“Wait a minute,” you call after her, realising something. “Don’t you want to talk about how //you’re// feeling about all of this, too?”
The golden light comes back as she swings around to face you again, her face a picture of serenity. “That’s kind of you, $pcname, but I’m not the one dealing with amnesia<<if $amnesia eq false>>, however mild<<endif>>.”
She pauses for just a moment, a<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>nother<<endif>> tiny crack in her impassive façade playing across her face, a miniscule surface disturbance that speaks of tectonic upheaval beneath, invisible to the naked eye.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside-down,” she says eventually, speaking haltingly, as though she’s not sure whether she should be saying anything at all. “To lose… your sense of self, and be left floundering. I hope you know that I would like to help you if I can in any way<<if $ourlady < 25>>, even if we don’t always see eye to eye<<endif>>.”
Before you can respond to that, she turns her back once more, and this time she does leave. There’s a brief flash of light in your direction, as she turns to look at you standing there one last time, and then the golden glow disappears entirely as she enters her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.
You feel like you’re leaving with more questions than answers, but she was definitely right about one thing; you could absolutely use some sleep right about now.
[[You suppose it’s time to see Soillere and ask him about finding you somewhere to lie down…|ch128]]There’s a note of desperation in your voice that you hadn’t quite intended to let out; there seems to be something about the sincerity of her question, the earnestness of her willingness to listen to your answer, that coaxed it out of you, like a mother cat meowing for her kittens to come out of hiding.
It’s not exactly your most impressive moment, but given the circumstances, you’re willing to cut yourself a little bit of slack.
She hums sympathetically, <<if $touchaverse eq false>>reaching out and leaving the lightest, most featherlike touch possible on your shoulder<<else>>clasping her hands together tightly once more<<endif>>. “Nobody expects you to be all right, $pcname… I suppose I worded my question poorly. I just wished to know if you wanted to talk about it.”
You take deep breath, trying to stabilise yourself slightly. “I appreciate the offer, but right now I think there’s too much going on to even talk about.”
“Of course,” she replies, nodding understandingly. “Please feel free to seek me out, if you ever feel differently in the future. That being said, you should probably go and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
She turns to leave, presumably intending to follow her own advice and return to her room; you instantly feel the absence of the soft light exuded by her eyes.
“Wait a minute,” you call after her, realising something. “Don’t you want to talk about how //you’re// feeling about all of this, too?”
The golden light comes back as she swings around to face you again, her face a picture of serenity. “That’s kind of you, $pcname, but I’m not the one dealing with amnesia<<if $amnesia eq false>>, however mild<<endif>>.”
She pauses for just a moment, a<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>nother<<endif>> tiny crack in her impassive façade playing across her face, a miniscule surface disturbance that speaks of tectonic upheaval beneath, invisible to the naked eye.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside-down,” she says eventually, speaking haltingly, as though she’s not sure whether she should be saying anything at all. “To lose… your sense of self, and be left floundering. I hope you know that I would like to help you if I can in any way<<if $ourlady < 25>>, even if we don’t always see eye to eye<<endif>>.”
Before you can respond to that, she turns her back once more, and this time she does leave. There’s a brief flash of light in your direction, as she turns to look at you standing there one last time, and then the golden glow disappears entirely as she enters her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.
You feel like you’re leaving with more questions than answers, but she was definitely right about one thing; you could absolutely use some sleep right about now.
[[You suppose it’s time to see Soillere and ask him about finding you somewhere to lie down…|ch128]]There’s a note of bitterness in your voice that<<if $decency >= 50>> you aren’t exactly proud of; you aren’t usually like this. You don’t yell at people or walk around feeling particularly hard done by… of course, if anything ever counted as an extreme enough situation to justify out of character behaviour, it’s definitely this, but it’s still a little hard to reckon with.
How much else about your personality and the way you see the world might all this end up tainting? You’re not keen on the idea of it changing who you are<<if $amnesia eq true>> - whoever that actually is<<endif>>.
<<else>> isn’t exactly atypical for you; you don’t really have the rosiest outlook on life. It’s something that not everyone appreciates about you, but then something like this goes and happens and all you can do is wonder how they all think that you were anything but fully justified all along.
Anyone who had previously thought that life was some kind of flowers and kittens affair is no doubt learning that they were way off the mark today - among many other terrible things that they’ll have to learn about.
<<endif>>
Our Lady just nods, her face sympathetic, and her understanding seems to cut some of the bottom out of your rage somehow, at least for now.
“<<if $decency >= 50>>It just wouldn’t be fair to you to let it all out,” you add, sighing. “It’s not your fault.<<else>>There’s just not much point ranting about it all,” you add, gruffly. “It won’t fix anything.<<endif>>”
“I understand completely,” she says in response, and something about the look in her eyes makes you believe her, despite the calmness she’s consistently displayed thus far. “I will be around, if you change your mind, however. That being said, you should probably go and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
She turns to leave, presumably intending to follow her own advice and return to her room; you instantly feel the absence of the soft light exuded by her eyes.
“Wait a minute,” you call after her, realising something. “Don’t you want to talk about how //you’re// feeling about all of this, too?”
The golden light comes back as she swings around to face you again, her face a picture of serenity. “That’s kind of you, $pcname, but I’m not the one dealing with amnesia<<if $amnesia eq false>>, however mild<<endif>>.”
She pauses for just a moment, a<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>nother<<endif>> tiny crack in her impassive façade playing across her face, a miniscule surface disturbance that speaks of tectonic upheaval beneath, invisible to the naked eye.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside-down,” she says eventually, speaking haltingly, as though she’s not sure whether she should be saying anything at all. “To lose… your sense of self, and be left floundering. I hope you know that I would like to help you if I can in any way<<if $ourlady < 25>>, even if we don’t always see eye to eye<<endif>>.”
Before you can respond to that, she turns her back once more, and this time she does leave. There’s a brief flash of light in your direction, as she turns to look at you standing there one last time, and then the golden glow disappears entirely as she enters her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.
You feel like you’re leaving with more questions than answers, but she was definitely right about one thing; you could absolutely use some sleep right about now.
[[You suppose it’s time to see Soillere and ask him about finding you somewhere to lie down…|ch128]]Your voice sounds somewhat fake even to your ears, but if she notices anything, Our Lady doesn’t bring it up; you’re grateful for that, honestly, whether you successfully fooled her or not.
You just couldn’t handle the thought of actually talking about it all - of telling her that you’re internally screaming right now, a wreck of anxiety and indecision. In fairness, she doesn’t seem like the sort of person who would judge you for it, but even the thought of discussing things feels like too much, like the crack in a bridge’s foundations that causes the whole thing to collapse.
Our Lady just nods, her face not betraying any hint of whether she believes you or not. “I’m glad. If that changes, however, please feel free to seek me out… emotions have their ebbs and flows. That being said, you should probably go and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
She turns to leave, presumably intending to follow her own advice and return to her room; you instantly feel the absence of the soft light exuded by her eyes.
“Wait a minute,” you call after her, realising something. “Don’t you want to talk about how //you’re// feeling about all of this, too?”
The golden light comes back as she swings around to face you again, her face a picture of serenity. “That’s kind of you, $pcname, but I’m not the one dealing with amnesia<<if $amnesia eq false>>, however mild<<endif>>.”
She pauses for just a moment, a<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>nother<<endif>> tiny crack in her impassive façade playing across her face, a miniscule surface disturbance that speaks of tectonic upheaval beneath, invisible to the naked eye.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside-down,” she says eventually, speaking haltingly, as though she’s not sure whether she should be saying anything at all. “To lose… your sense of self, and be left floundering. I hope you know that I would like to help you if I can in any way<<if $ourlady < 25>>, even if we don’t always see eye to eye<<endif>>.”
Before you can respond to that, she turns her back once more, and this time she does leave. There’s a brief flash of light in your direction, as she turns to look at you standing there one last time, and then the golden glow disappears entirely as she enters her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.
You feel like you’re leaving with more questions than answers, but she was definitely right about one thing; you could absolutely use some sleep right about now.
[[You suppose it’s time to see Soillere and ask him about finding you somewhere to lie down…|ch128]]Your voice is steady, unwavering - just like you, you suppose. You’re not exaggerating, either; what’s going on is obviously shocking, and it’s going to be difficult to deal with and move past even just from a purely practical standpoint, but you’re not cowed by any of it, for better or for worse.
Not yet, anyway. Who knows how much worse it might get…
Our Lady just nods, not pressing you for any more of an answer, which you appreciate. “I’m glad. If that changes, however, please feel free to seek me out… emotions have their ebbs and flows, after all. That being said, you should probably go and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
She turns to leave, presumably intending to follow her own advice and return to her room; you instantly feel the absence of the soft light exuded by her eyes.
“Wait a minute,” you call after her, realising something. “Don’t you want to talk about how //you’re// feeling about all of this, too?”
The golden light comes back as she swings around to face you again, her face a picture of serenity. “That’s kind of you, $pcname, but I’m not the one dealing with amnesia<<if $amnesia eq false>>, however mild<<endif>>.”
She pauses for just a moment, a<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>nother<<endif>> tiny crack in her impassive façade playing across her face, a miniscule surface disturbance that speaks of tectonic upheaval beneath, invisible to the naked eye.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside-down,” she says eventually, speaking haltingly, as though she’s not sure whether she should be saying anything at all. “To lose… your sense of self, and be left floundering. I hope you know that I would like to help you if I can in any way<<if $ourlady < 25>>, even if we don’t always see eye to eye<<endif>>.”
Before you can respond to that, she turns her back once more, and this time she does leave. There’s a brief flash of light in your direction, as she turns to look at you standing there one last time, and then the golden glow disappears entirely as she enters her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.
You feel like you’re leaving with more questions than answers, but she was definitely right about one thing; you could absolutely use some sleep right about now.
[[You suppose it’s time to see Soillere and ask him about finding you somewhere to lie down…|ch128]]There’s a note of bitterness in your voice that<<if $decency >= 50>> you aren’t exactly proud of; you aren’t usually like this. You don’t yell at people or walk around feeling particularly hard done by… of course, if anything ever counted as an extreme enough situation to justify out of character behaviour, it’s definitely this, but it’s still a little hard to reckon with.
How much else about your personality and the way you see the world might all this end up tainting? You’re not keen on the idea of it changing who you are<<if $amnesia eq true>> - whoever that actually is<<endif>>.
<<else>> isn’t exactly atypical for you; you don’t really have the rosiest outlook on life. It’s something that not everyone appreciates about you, but then something like this goes and happens and all you can do is wonder how they all think that you were anything but fully justified all along.
Anyone who had previously thought that life was some kind of flowers and kittens affair is no doubt learning that they were way off the mark today - among many other terrible things that they’ll have to learn about.
<<endif>>
Our Lady just nods, her face sympathetic, and her understanding seems to cut some of the bottom out of your rage somehow, at least for now.
“I understand,” she says calmly, in response. “You should get some sleep, $pcname. It’s been a long day.”
She turns to leave, presumably intending to follow her own advice and return to her room; you instantly feel the absence of the soft light exuded by her eyes.
“Wait - that’s it?” you call after her, frustrated. “You ask me if I’m all right, and then you just //leave//?”
The golden light comes back as she swings around to face you again, her face a picture of serenity. “You didn’t want to talk about it. It would be rude to push you to do so.”
You suppose you can’t really argue about that, but the whole thing still leaves a sour taste in your mouth.
She hesitates for a moment, a<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>nother<<endif>> tiny crack in her impassive façade playing across her face, a miniscule surface disturbance that speaks of tectonic upheaval beneath, invisible to the naked eye.
“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside-down,” she says eventually, speaking haltingly, as though she’s not sure whether she should be saying anything at all. “To lose… your sense of self, and be left floundering. I hope you know that I would like to help you if I can in any way, even if we don’t always see eye to eye.”
Before you can respond to that, she turns her back once more, and this time she really does leave. There’s a brief flash of light in your direction, as she turns to look at you standing there one last time, and then the golden glow disappears entirely as she enters her room and shuts the door firmly behind her.
You feel like you’re leaving with more questions than answers, but she was definitely right about one thing; you could absolutely use some sleep right about now.
[[You suppose it’s time to see Soillere and ask him about finding you somewhere to lie down…|ch128]]“Who?” he asks, giving you a blank look for a second, before the realisation hits him. “Oh - that’s the last survivor?”
You nod, not having really thought about the fact that you’re the only person on the //Wisp// who’s actually spoken to Annos thus far. “I assume he’s getting some rest at the moment. You’ll probably meet him tomorrow.”
<<if $annosflirt > 0>>
He gives you a somewhat sly look, clearly amused by the question. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? The two of you looked pretty close when you brought him out onto the deck.”
You clear your throat meaningfully, trying to ignore what he’s obviously implying. “I think you’ll probably get along fine with him, once you actually meet.”
“I can’t say much else until I do,” he replies, grinning.
“Just making sure that you didn’t get some immediate bad feeling from him,” you say, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
<<else>>
He shrugs. “I mean, I did say I was good at getting impressions from people, but I usually have to actually talk to them first. I don’t really have much to say about him yet except that he seemed pretty shellshocked… which, given what’s going on, is probably fair enough. I didn’t get any kind of bad feeling from him, though.”
“That’s more or less what I’d probably say if you had asked me, too,” you say, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
<<endif>>
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
He holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\He laughs, eyes shining. “What, from when I first met her? Or just in general?”
“Whichever,” you reply, unbothered, and he breathes a long sigh seemingly born of nostalgia, a faraway look on his face.
“I met her at sea, after she’d just been in a skirmish with four Lencelais men-o’-war. She sunk two and sent the others packing, despite being boarded, and then she sent a man rowing over to our merchant ship, promising us compensation if we took her crew back to port because her ship was taking on water. She and a few officers limped their way home on the old girl a week or so later; I think the captain probably spent the whole time bailing water herself.”
You can’t help but smile, easily able to imagine it, based on what you’ve seen of the captain thus far.
“I told her I was looking for a new job when I saw her in the tavern that night and she bought me a pint and told me to start calling myself ‘Midshipman’,” he adds, grinning, and you laugh.
“Sounds like just the sort of misadventures I’d expect out of you two,” you say, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
He holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\<<if $ourladyflirt > 0>>He gives you a sideways look, seemingly curious about your interest. “She’s a good woman. Steady. Useful to have around the place.”
“She just… seems like something of a mystery,” you reply, hoping that you might get slightly more out of him than that.
He makes a pensive noise, his eyes searching your face for something - you have no idea whether he finds what he’s looking for or not.
“She’s got a right to keep her secrets. I don’t think they’re anything //bad//, if that’s what you’re asking.”
<<else>>“What, from when I first met her?” he asks, seeming slightly confused. “Or just in general?”
“Whichever,” you reply, unbothered, and he makes a thoughtful noise, considering it.
“She’s always been a bit of a mystery,” he replies, eventually. “But not in a bad way, if you take my meaning? The kind of person whose secrets are hard to learn about because they’re awful and you’ll never be able to look at her the same, but not in a way that reflects badly on //her//.”
<<endif>>
“Hm,” you say, mulling that over for a few seconds, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
He holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\“Who?” he asks, giving you a blank look for a second, before the realisation hits him. “Oh - that’s the other survivor?”
You nod. “I didn’t realise they hadn’t introduced themselves to anyone but me… I suppose I just assumed that everyone would have exchanged names while I was out cold.”
<<if $tehemiaflirt > 0>>
He gives you a somewhat sly look, clearly amused by your inquiry. “Yes, well… they seem to like you better than all the rest of us. They do seem like they’re usually something of a loner, though.”
<<else>>
“I don’t think they like us very much,” he replies, shrugging. “I’m not holding that against them, by the way, given what’s going on. They seem like someone who’s used to having to get by on their own, and that can be tough to get past even without the world ending.”
<<endif>>
“Hm,” you say, mulling that over for a few seconds, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
He holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\“What, from when I first met him?” Soillere asks, seeming slightly confused. “Or just in general?”
“Whichever,” you reply, unbothered, and he makes a thoughtful noise, considering it.
“Vanator’s always been a bit of a recluse,” he replies, eventually. “I never thought all that much about it, really - if you don’t like people, why //not// come to a place where they’re all supposed to be dead - but I don’t get any kind of bad feeling from him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Hm,” you say, mulling that over for a few seconds, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
He holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\He laughs again, tilting his head on the side and pretending to consider you carefully.
“<<if $skillcheckpass eq 0>>Please remember that I’m not exactly at my best right now,” you add hastily, but that only makes him laugh even harder<<else>>Would you hire me on if you met me at the docks?” you add, grinning, and that only makes him laugh harder<<endif>>.
<<if $race eq "wolven">>
“They don’t exactly build ‘em small where you come from, eh?” he begins, and you shrug your (admittedly broad) shoulders good-naturedly, thinking that at least he didn’t bring up your teeth.
“This is me at my smallest!” you tell him, and he makes an expression that somehow manages to combine terror and intense curiosity.
<<elseif $race eq "thym’ani">>
“I have to say, I’m sort of jealous of those,” he begins, motioning at your arms. “I could get //so much extra// done if I had four hands instead of two. I don’t know how I would handle the extra eyes, though.”
“You need them, to help with the arms,” you tell him, demonstrating good-naturedly. “It’s so that you can be doing something finicky with each pair of hands and keep an eye on both of them at the same time.”
<<elseif $race eq "lamerran">>
“You’re pretty quick on the uptake, huh?” he begins, sounding fairly impressed. “Bright like a match and sharp like a knife.”
You shrug, smiling good-naturedly. “I can do a little bit of elemental magic, too. Most lamerrans can… it’s just a pity that we don’t know where my soul-familiar is. I think the two of you would get along.”
<<else>>
“Can’t get much of a read just from looking at you, honestly,” he begins, sounding thoughtful. “You //seem// pretty ordinary on the surface, but there’s more to you, isn’t there? There’s a kind of presence to you, something that grabs attention.”
You shrug, smiling good-naturedly. “People have said worse things about me.”
<<endif>>
“<<if $soillere > 25>> You seem trustworthy enough<<else>>A bit rough around the edges<<endif>>,” he adds, continuing. “<<if $flirted eq true>>And you certainly don’t let the end of the world put a damper on your social schedule. <<endif>><<if ($faith >= $decency) and ($faith > 52)>>But I don’t think I’ve ever quite met anyone who believes as //strongly// as you do… it scares me a bit, if I’m being honest<<elseif ($decency > $faith) and ($decency > 52)>>But I don’t think I’ve ever quite met anyone as //decent// as you are… it scares me a bit, if I’m being honest<<elseif $turmoil > 55>>But you’re obviously going through a lot right now… you seem pretty stressed<<elseif $honesty < 50>>But you’re not exactly the straightest edge, from what I can see… you’ve got some secrets you’re guarding, if I’m not mistaken<<elseif $turmoil < 50>>But I don’t think I’ve ever quite met anyone as //calm// as you are… you even give Our Lady a run for her money<<elseif $faith > 50>>But I don’t meet many people who believe as strongly as you do… it’s pretty impressive, really<<elseif $honesty > 50>>But I don’t think I’ve ever quite met anyone as committed to the truth as you are… it scares me a bit, if I’m being honest<<elseif $decency < 48>>But you’re not exactly the kindest soul, from what I can see… you seem like someone who makes a lot of enemies, if I’m not mistaken<<else>>But I don’t think I’ve ever quite met someone as //normal// as you are… it’s damn near terrifying, if I’m being honest<<endif>>.”
“Hm,” you say, mulling that over for a few seconds, and then yawn suddenly, the long day catching up with you. “Not to be rude, but is there any chance you could find me somewhere to sleep?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes - I forgot we never got around to that yet, sorry. It’s been hectic… I mean, you know.”
He holds up one hand, counting off the rooms carefully on his fingers as he lists them all.
“Let me think… if you’re not fussed about privacy, you can sleep in the crew’s quarters, or there’s some bunks set up in the storage hold - that’s where I sleep. There’s the quartermaster’s cabin beside the treasury… the cook’s quarters beside the galley… there’s a couple of spare rooms beside the surgery, the guard’s room down by the brig, the on-duty officer’s quarters near the weapons locker… oh, and the room next to the powder stores, but I doubt you’ll want to sleep there. People always get nervous sleeping beside explosives.”
He grins at that last one, but you can’t help but notice that all of these empty rooms have some obvious purpose that they must once have filled; you wonder who used to sleep in them, and whether Soillere knew the occupants well, before the rooms became vacant.
Ah well… any port in a storm, as they say.
[[One of the rooms close to the surgery sounds like it might suit you.|ch129a][$room = "surgery"]] [//Near Barthelemy, Kebisa//]
[[The quartermaster’s cabin sounds like it might be decent.|ch129b][$room = "treasury"]] [//Near Our Lady, Ia//]
[[With everything that’s going on, you wouldn’t mind sleeping close to the weapons locker.|ch129c][$room = "weapons"]] [//Near Vanator, Luminita//]
[[Down near the brig at least sounds like it might be quiet and mostly deserted.|ch129d][$room = "brig"]] [//Near Gervaise, Namsun//]
[[Bunks sounds fine. You don’t really need any luxury.|ch129e][$room = "bunks"]] [//Near Soillere, Dassine//]
[[You’re not shy… you don’t mind sleeping in with the crew.|ch129e][$room = "quarters"]] [//Near Tehemia, Annos//]
<<if $deity eq "Accharina">>[[Beside the galley… that sounds nice. Who knows if it’s functional, but still.|ch129a][$room = "galley"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Uchenqe">>[[Ideally, you’d prefer to sleep out in the open air, if that can be arranged?|ch129f][$room = "nest"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Nabhuti">>[[You’d just like to sleep somewhere where you can listen to the sound of the water.|ch129d][$room = "bilge"]]<<endif>>\
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[Actually, you don’t mind the idea of sleeping beside the powder stores.|ch129b][$room = "powder"]]<<endif>>\<<if $room eq "surgery">>“Planning on getting injured, are you?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him.
You can’t help but laugh. “Honestly, after today… I feel like it never hurts to be prepared.”
He snorts, <<if $soillere >= 25>>amused, <<endif>>and then clamps a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
<<else>>“Hungry, are you?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him. “Sadly, we’re light on food at the moment… you all caught us a bit off guard.”
“Is the galley… functional?” you ask him, curious, but he just grimaces, clamping a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place.
“Well, we don’t have a cook, so all that’s on board is dry rations and fruit. You might be able to get it up and running if you wanted, I suppose. Come on, then.”
<<endif>>
“Is that… safe?” you ask him, waving a hand at the brace. “Can you actually leave the wheel unattended? Should I fetch someone else to watch it?”
He shrugs, jerking a thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s not like it’s full of reefs we need to avoid. I can’t see any bends ahead, can you?”
You turn your gaze to the Black River, which stretches on ahead of you as far as your eyes can see. There might be a few turns in it beyond there, perhaps, but it will no doubt take a great deal of time to reach them.
“Come on,” he repeats, making his way down the stairs, once you’re done realising that he’s correct.
You head down the stairs behind him, and then follow him down one more flight; <<if (visited ("ch1a102") > 0) and ($room eq "surgery")>>you know the general direction of where you’re going by now, of course, though you presume you’ll still need Soillere to bring you to the correct door<<else>>it doesn’t seem to be all that much further, as he immediately turns towards a door located behind the staircase, leading you into the midships area that supports the deck above you<<endif>>.
<<if $room eq "surgery">>
You follow him down a narrow corridor, <<if visited ("ch1a102") > 0>>past the surgery itself, <<endif>>heading towards the stern. The end of the corridor branches out to both the left and right, and the junction itself is host to a cluster of doors leading off in all directions… rooms for patients requiring treatment, maybe, at a guess? One of the doors is open, revealing a dimly-lit room with a wide table in the centre, its surface covered in scattered notes and papers.
“That’s where the doctor does all his work that doesn’t involve blood,” Soillere tells you, waving at it idly. “He’s not really one for visitors, though.”
He brings you instead to one of the doors on the opposite side of the hallway, glancing inside briefly and then stepping aside for you to enter. It’s small, bordering on tiny, containing a narrow bed next to a side table, and a single chair in the corner.
[[Not exactly luxurious, but that pillow is beginning to look pretty inviting…|ch130]]
<<else>>
You follow him down a fairly wide corridor that leads along the port side of the ship, past a long room with a wide, arched doorway. Soillere tells you this is the mess hall; you can just barely make out the shapes of long tables and benches in there in the gloom as you pass.
“This is the galley itself,” he adds, when you reach the next door along - although you didn’t really need him to.
The kitchen implements and variously-sized pots make it fairly easy to tell.
“And this is the cook’s cabin,” he says finally, bringing you to the last door on this side of the corridor and opening it.
The room is small and cramped; the bed itself is fairly wide, though low to the ground, and looks extremely soft. There’s not much else in it, though… just enough room to carefully walk around in.
[[The softness of that bed is calling out to you…|ch130]]<<endif>><<if $room eq "treasury">>“Planning on making off with our loot, are you?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him.
“Do you… have any on board?” you ask him, curious, but he just snorts, clamping a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place.
“<<if $soillere >= 25>>Friend, <<endif>>I haven’t seen a coin in centuries. Unless you’re particularly interested in tar or nails, I’m afraid you might be out of luck. Come on, then.”
<<else>>“You like to live dangerously, do you?” Soillere asks sardonically, when you relay your choice to him.
You just shrug. “If people are nervous sleeping nearby, that at least means it will be quiet, right?”
He snorts, <<if $soillere >= 25>>amused, <<endif>>and then clamps a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
<<endif>>
“Is that… safe?” you ask him, waving a hand at the brace. “Can you actually leave the wheel unattended? Should I fetch someone else to watch it?”
He <<if $room eq "powder">>also <<endif>>shrugs, jerking a thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s not like it’s full of reefs we need to avoid. I can’t see any bends ahead, can you?”
You turn your gaze to the Black River, which stretches on ahead of you as far as your eyes can see. There might be a few turns in it beyond there, perhaps, but it will no doubt take a great deal of time to reach them.
“Come on,” he repeats, making his way down the stairs, once you’re done realising that he’s correct.
You head down the stairs behind him, and then follow him down one more flight and over towards a small hatch in the floor<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>, the same one you used to go belowdecks earlier<<endif>>. He gives you a sympathetic look as he goes to climb down the ladder… but by this point you’ve just accepted that your ribs are going to hurt for a while.
It’s dark belowdecks, the only light a small lantern sitting in a fixture on the wall some distance away. Soillere removes it and begins to make his way back towards the stern; you follow him in silence, the only sounds around you the creaking of the ship’s timbers. Somehow even the water seems distant.
<<if $room eq "treasury">>
“Back here,” he instructs, leading you down a curved hallway that seems to be set against the starboard bow, until you’re in the very aft of the ship.
“This is the treasury,” he tells you, indicating a tall, thick door with a sturdy-looking lock attached. “Loot it to your heart’s content. And this is the quartermaster’s cabin.”
The second door, nearby, is less imposing, but still tall. The room inside is spacious; there’s a decently-sized bed, along with a side table, and a desk and chair that seem to be bolted to the floor - to keep them from sliding about, presumably.
[[This looks as inviting as a luxury hotel right about now…|ch130]]
<<else>>
“Through here,” he instructs, cutting across towards the port side through a wide hallway, cluttered with empty barrels.
“This is the shot locker,” he tells you, indicating what is not really a door, but something slightly closer to a hatch in the wall. “It’s full of cannonballs, if you’re curious. And this is the gunner’s quarters.”
This time what he’s pointing at is actually a proper door; there’s another door beside it, but given his descriptions, you assume that must lead to the powder stores. The room inside is small and cramped, barely nothing more than a bed and a chair. You might just about have room to turn around in, if you’re lucky.
[[Still, that bed is looking pretty tempting right now…|ch130]]<<endif>>“You know something we don’t, eh?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him.
You shrug helplessly. “Honestly, after today… I just feel like it never hurts to be prepared.”
He snorts, amused, and then clamps a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
“Is that… safe?” you ask him, waving a hand at the brace. “Can you actually leave the wheel unattended? Should I fetch someone else to watch it?”
He also shrugs, jerking a thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s not like it’s full of reefs we need to avoid. I can’t see any bends ahead, can you?”
You turn your gaze to the Black River, which stretches on ahead of you as far as your eyes can see. There might be a few turns in it beyond there, perhaps, but it will no doubt take a great deal of time to reach them.
“Come on,” he repeats, making his way down the stairs, once you’re done realising that he’s correct.
You head down the stairs behind him, and then follow him down one more flight and over towards a small hatch in the floor<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>, the same one you used to go belowdecks earlier<<endif>>. He gives you a sympathetic look as he goes to climb down the ladder… but by this point you’ve just accepted that your ribs are going to hurt for a while.
It’s dark belowdecks, the only light a small lantern sitting in a fixture on the wall some distance away. Soillere removes it and begins to make his way towards the fore; you follow him in silence, the only sounds around you the creaking of the ship’s timbers. Somehow even the water seems distant.
It’s a long walk, longer than you would ideally have liked, but you suppose that was always going to be a danger on a ship this large. You trudge behind Soillere along what feels like the entire length of the starboard bow, gradually curving inwards the further forwards you go.
“Here we go,” he says at last, indicating a door facing back towards the bow. “<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>You’re next door to Vanator. <<endif>>The weapons locker is this one opposite, if you really need.”
The ceiling inside is low, but the room itself is fairly wide, featuring a low bed, and a small table and chair that have been bolted to the floor - to keep them from sliding around, no doubt.
[[The ceiling is no problem… you don’t plan to be doing a lot of standing up in there if you can help it.|ch130]]<<if $room eq "brig">>“Trying to avoid us, are you?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him.
You just shrug, too tired for a lengthy discussion of your thought process. “It just seemed like the quietest option.”
He snorts, <<if $soillere >= 25>>amused, <<endif>>and then clamps a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
<<else>>Soillere gives you a strange look when you relay this to him, gesturing vaguely to the river as if to ask how it’s not good enough for you.
“Indulge me?” you suggest, and he snorts<<if $soillere >= 25>>, amused<<endif>>.
“There’s a hammock right down in the bilges, beside the pumps. It’s mostly there for if we need someone to watch for flooding, but you can sleep there if you want, I suppose.”
As he speaks, he clamps a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place.
“Come on.”
<<endif>>
“Is that… safe?” you ask him, waving a hand at the brace. “Can you actually leave the wheel unattended? Should I fetch someone else to watch it?”
He shrugs, jerking a thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s not like it’s full of reefs we need to avoid. I can’t see any bends ahead, can you?”
You turn your gaze to the Black River, which stretches on ahead of you as far as your eyes can see. There might be a few turns in it beyond there, perhaps, but it will no doubt take a great deal of time to reach them.
“Come on,” he repeats, making his way down the stairs, once you’re done realising that he’s correct.
You head down the stairs behind him, and then follow him down one more flight and over towards a small hatch in the floor<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>, the same one you used to go belowdecks earlier<<endif>>. He gives you a sympathetic look as he goes to climb down the ladder… but by this point you’ve just accepted that your ribs are going to hurt for a while.
It’s dark belowdecks, the only light a small lantern sitting in a fixture on the wall some distance away. Soillere removes it and begins to make his way in towards the centre of the ship; he shortly leads you down yet another flight of stairs, and then sometime later a fourth. You follow him in silence, while the sounds of the water slowly grow louder and more all-encompassing as you descend further and further.
<<if $room eq "brig">>
The space also gets narrower the further you go, until you come to what is essentially no more than a cluster of small rooms with a bit of hallway running past it. Some of the rooms have bars along the outer side rather than solid walls; you suppose this must be the brig.
“In here,” Soillere says, gesturing to the room on the end of the row.
It’s little more than a cramped bed and some walls… you suppose guard duty was probably never particularly //luxurious//.
[[It doesn’t matter. A bed is a bed…|ch130]]
<<else>>
You head down deeper into the ship than you had even imagined existed, until you’re hearing water literally sloshing openly somewhere below you. It’s essentially exactly what you’d asked for.
“Here you go,” Soillere says, still sounding somewhat bemused, as he leads you over to what is truly just a piece of canvas hung between two poles. “I’ll leave the lantern, if you like.”
“Maybe on the outside of that last doorway,” you tell him, and he nods without argument.
[[It does seem very dark down here… but right now you’re so tired that you hardly see that as a downside.|ch130]]<<endif>><<if $room eq "bunks">>“Trying to get on my good side, are you?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him.
“It’s good to have at least //one// familiar face around,” you tell him, shrugging, and he smiles, clamping a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place.
“Trust me, <<if $soillere >= 25>>friend, <<endif>>once you spend a week or so on board, you’ll be complaining about only seeing the same faces over and over. Come on.”
<<else>>“Not picky, eh?” Soillere asks, grinning, when you relay your choice to him.
“If it’s good enough for everyone else, it’s good enough for me,” you tell him, shrugging, and he laughs, clamping a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place.
“<<if $soillere >= 25>>Friend, y<<else>>Y<<endif>>ou were born to be a sailor. You’ll be lucky if the captain doesn’t ask you to stay on once this is over… come on, then.”
<<endif>>
“Is that… safe?” you ask him, waving a hand at the brace. “Can you actually leave the wheel unattended? Should I fetch someone else to watch it?”
He also shrugs, jerking a thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s not like it’s full of reefs we need to avoid. I can’t see any bends ahead, can you?”
You turn your gaze to the Black River, which stretches on ahead of you as far as your eyes can see. There might be a few turns in it beyond there, perhaps, but it will no doubt take a great deal of time to reach them.
“Come on,” he repeats, making his way down the stairs, once you’re done realising that he’s correct.
You head down the stairs behind him, and then follow him down one more flight and over towards a small hatch in the floor<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>, the same one you used to go belowdecks earlier<<endif>>. He gives you a sympathetic look as he goes to climb down the ladder… but by this point you’ve just accepted that your ribs are going to hurt for a while.
<<if $room eq "bunks">>
It’s dark belowdecks, the only light a small lantern sitting in a fixture on the wall some distance away. Soillere removes it and begins to make his way in towards the centre of the ship; he shortly leads you down yet another flight of stairs, but this at least seems to be the last one. It takes you down via a slight spiral into a cavernous room - he did say this was the storage hold, you suppose.
The shadows of barrels and crates loom over you in the dark, but it’s still fairly empty compared to what you would have imagined… another change from the days of old, no doubt. Soillere leads you over to the back corner, where a half-dozen bunks, stacked in pairs, have been bolted to the wall, alongside a small, makeshift living area containing a table and some chairs (also bolted down, though in their case to the floor).
“This one’s mine,” he tells you, pointing to the farthest one. “Pick any of the others… top, bottom, whichever you prefer.”
[[Maybe you’ll change your mind later but… the idea of climbing another ladder sounds like the last thing you want right now.|ch130]]
<<else>>
It’s dark belowdecks, the only light a small lantern sitting in a fixture on the wall some distance away<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>; someone must have lit one since you were down here last. Soillere leads you down the same corridor that you traversed with Our Lady, though he doesn’t bother knocking on the door the way she did.
A lot more of the hammocks are full this time around, but there still seems to be more than enough available. Soillere nods at you silently - you suppose he doesn’t want to wake any of the others if they’re sleeping - and you look around for an unoccupied hammock for yourself.
<<else>>. Soillere removes it and begins to make his way down a corridor towards the centre of the ship; it seems at least that you don’t have far to go, as he opens the door at the end of the hallway and simply nods at you silently.
You peer inside, seeing a large collection of hammocks strung between every available pole, many of them containing members of the crew. You suppose there isn’t much else to do but find an unoccupied one for yourself and climb into it.
<<endif>>
[[Right now you couldn’t care less about where you sleep… you just want to close your eyes.|ch130]]<<endif>>Soillere gives you a strange look when you relay this to him. “You want to just… sleep out here on the deck? Go ahead.”
“There’s nowhere out here with a bit of privacy?” you suggest, and he snorts, amused.
“I suppose you could sleep in the crow’s nest if you really wanted. There should be //just// enough space for you to fit.”
As he speaks, he clamps a kind of wooden brace against the ship’s wheel, obviously to hold it in place.
“Come on.”
“Is that… safe?” you ask him, waving a hand at the brace. “Can you actually leave the wheel unattended? Should I fetch someone else to watch it?”
He shrugs, jerking a thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s not like it’s full of reefs we need to avoid. I can’t see any bends ahead, can you?”
You turn your gaze to the Black River, which stretches on ahead of you as far as your eyes can see. There might be a few turns in it beyond there, perhaps, but it will no doubt take a great deal of time to reach them.
“Come on,” he repeats, making his way down the stairs, once you’re done realising that he’s correct.
You head down the stairs behind him, and then follow him down one more flight, over towards the mainmast. <<if visited ("ch1v201") eq 0>><<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> appears to have disappeared by now, as you don’t see them around, but there’s no real indication of where they might have gone.<<endif>>
Once you reach one of the mesh-like sets of rigging coming down off the mainmast to connect with the starboard bow, Soillere stops, waving an arm towards it with a grandiose flourish.
“Up you go, then. I guess. Unless you want to reconsider.”
You think it over briefly; it’s definitely out in the open air, and you probably won’t be disturbed (unless you were already going to be woken up by an emergency anyway). It is, however, quite a bit of effort just to get up there, especially when you’re already tired.
“I think I’ll manage,” you tell him, eventually, causing him to raise his eyebrows at you in response.
“All right… take this with you, then,” he says, handing you a balled-up wad of cloth that had been sitting on a barrel nearby - a flag of some kind, you think. “For a pillow. Come and get me if you change your mind.”
[[It’s better than nothing… and it’ll definitely be better than being shut away in the hold.|ch130]]They turn back to face you, locking eyes firmly with you for a few moments as though trying to discern whether you’re earnest or not. Eventually they lean back against the bulwark behind them, their gaze drifting to the timbers of the deck as a contemplative look settles on their face.
“It’s true that they’re already following the gods’ path,” they concede, eventually. “No amount of contact with us can make them //leave//… unless they get pulled out, I suppose, but that won’t be our fault, at least.”
“Right… that would have happened whether we were here or not,” you reply, trying to be encouraging. “But we need their help to get out of here, so there’s no benefit to avoiding them - I mean, without their help, we’d have been left in the river.”
They grunt in acknowledgement, though they still seem troubled. “I keep thinking that Osnach must have put me on this path for a reason. At first I thought that it was so that I could keep everyone from twisting the crew’s souls too much, but… <<if $tehemia > 25>>maybe it was about meeting you, instead<<else>>maybe it’s just about helping to put everything that’s going on right now back in order, instead<<endif>>.”
Their words are heavy - profound, in a way - <<if $faith < 54>>and a sign for you that Tehemia takes their faith extremely seriously<<if $amnesia eq false>>, moreso than you do, it would seem<<endif>><<else>>and a reminder for you that you’re not alone down here, no matter how bad things are<<endif>>.
“It’s always hard to tell in the moment,” you say in response, spreading your hands helplessly, and they laugh.
“You can say that again!”
They definitely seem less wound up than earlier during their fight with the captain… you’re glad you came over to check on them, for no reason other than that, at least.
“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking something somewhat personal?” you suggest, thinking that it might be a good time to change the subject.
They blink owlishly at you for a moment, but nod in the end. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know anything about how you came to be here?” you ask, as it’s something that you’ve been curious about ever since first hearing them talk. “Were you… taken from the southern islands? I feel like there are so many mysteries remaining.”
They hesitate before answering, and you can practically see what openness there was behind their eyes closing off as you watch.
“I think we should probably… get some sleep,” they tell you, finally, before walking away.
[[Well… that seems to be that, then. You can’t say that you particularly disagree, though.|ch128]]They turn back to face you, looking unimpressed for a few moments, before giving up and returning to their view of the landscape.
“I don’t think it’s odder to focus on than anything else,” they say eventually, sounding slightly defensive. “At least it’s something that //we// can personally affect. Something to do //right now//.”
You shrug in response, unconvinced. “I just think we’re going to gain a lot more by cooperating with friendly people we meet down here than by avoiding them out of some sort of principle that barely matters compared to the world being ripped open.”
They mutter something under their breath before turning around to face you again, arms crossed. “At least promise me that you’ll try to limit your impact to the people who seek us out? Don’t go around introducing yourself to all of the locals or anything, please.”
“That I can do,” you reply easily, and they seem to relax somewhat. “My intention is to find the quickest possible route to our goal, not to get cosy down here.”
“What, you don’t like the scenery?” they suggest, drily, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Not enough sun for a nice garden,” you quip back, and they grin in wry amusement.
“You can say that again!”
They definitely seem less wound up than earlier during their fight with the captain… you’re glad you came over to check on them, for no reason other than that, at least.
“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking something somewhat personal?” you suggest, thinking that it might be a good time to change the subject.
They blink owlishly at you for a moment, but nod in the end. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know anything about how you came to be here?” you ask, as it’s something that you’ve been curious about ever since first hearing them talk. “Were you… taken from the southern islands? I feel like there are so many mysteries remaining.”
They hesitate before answering, and you can practically see what openness there was behind their eyes closing off as you watch.
“I think we should probably… get some sleep,” they tell you, finally, before walking away.
[[Well… that seems to be that, then. You can’t say that you particularly disagree, though.|ch128]]They turn back to face you, locking eyes firmly with you for a few moments as though trying to discern whether you’re earnest or not. Eventually they sag slightly in relief, relaxing a little when they decide that you really do agree with them.
“We just… need to find a way to get ourselves oriented down here,” they say, firmly, as though steeling themselves. “Once we can figure out how to get around… find out the lay of the land… we can go off on our own. That should help.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” you reassure them. “And at the very least it probably helps to remember that we couldn’t have prevented any disruption that might have already happened with the //Wisp’s// crew - neither of us was in a position to avoid them coming across us.”
They grunt in acknowledgement, though they still seem troubled. “I keep thinking that Osnach must have put me on this path for a reason. At first I thought that it was so that I could keep everyone from twisting the crew’s souls too much, but… <<if $tehemia > 25>>maybe it was about meeting you, as well<<else>>maybe it’s just about us helping to put everything that’s going on right now back in order, as well<<endif>>.”
Their words are heavy - profound, in a way - <<if $faith < 54>>and a sign for you that Tehemia takes their faith extremely seriously<<if $amnesia eq false>>, moreso than you do, it would seem<<endif>><<else>>and a reminder for you that you’re not alone down here, no matter how bad things are<<endif>>.
“It’s always hard to tell in the moment,” you say in response, spreading your hands helplessly, and they laugh.
“You can say that again!”
They definitely seem less wound up than earlier during their fight with the captain… you’re glad you came over to check on them, for no reason other than that, at least.
“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking something somewhat personal?” you suggest, thinking that it might be a good time to change the subject.
They blink owlishly at you for a moment, but nod in the end. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know anything about how you came to be here?” you ask, as it’s something that you’ve been curious about ever since first hearing them talk. “Were you… taken from the southern islands? I feel like there are so many mysteries remaining.”
They hesitate before answering, and you can practically see what openness there was behind their eyes closing off as you watch.
“I think we should probably… get some sleep,” they tell you, finally, before walking away.
[[Well… that seems to be that, then. You can’t say that you particularly disagree, though.|ch128]]They turn back to face you, locking eyes firmly with you for a few moments as though trying to discern whether you’re lying or not. Eventually they lean back against the bulwark behind them, their gaze drifting to the timbers of the deck as a contemplative look settles on their face.
“I suppose I… hadn’t thought about the fact that they’re already where the gods sent them,” Tehemia responds, eventually. “I just- I mean, you know how it is. When a lingering spirit is someone’s family member, they all want their grandparent or aunt or whoever to be the one exception to the rule. I had to learn to remain distant.”
“I do understand,” you reply, earnestly, having seen your fair share of hauntings caused by family members. “I think we’re extremely lucky that the kind of caution you’re talking about likely won’t end up being necessary, though. Without the help of the captain and Soillere, we’d have been left in the river.”
They grunt in acknowledgement, though they still seem troubled. “I keep thinking that Osnach must have put me on this path for a reason. At first I thought that it was so that I could keep everyone from twisting the crew’s souls too much, but… maybe it was about meeting you, instead.”
Their words are heavy - profound, in a way - <<if $faith < 54>>and a sign for you that Tehemia takes their faith extremely seriously, moreso than you do, it would seem<<else>>and a reminder for you that you’re not alone down here, no matter how bad things are<<endif>>.
“It’s always hard to tell in the moment,” you say in response, spreading your hands helplessly, and they laugh.
“You can say that again!”
They definitely seem less wound up than earlier during their fight with the captain… you’re glad you came over to check on them, for no reason other than that, at least.
“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking something somewhat personal?” you suggest, thinking that it might be a good time to change the subject.
They blink owlishly at you for a moment, but nod in the end. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know anything about how you came to be here?” you ask, as it’s something that you’ve been curious about ever since first hearing them talk. “Were you… taken from the southern islands? I feel like there are so many mysteries remaining.”
They hesitate before answering, and you can practically see what openness there was behind their eyes closing off as you watch.
“I think we should probably… get some sleep,” they tell you, finally, before walking away.
[[Well… that seems to be that, then. You can’t say that you particularly disagree, though.|ch128]]They turn back to face you, locking eyes firmly with you for a few moments as though trying to discern whether you’re earnest or not. Eventually they sag slightly in relief, relaxing a little when they decide that you really do agree with them.
“We just… need to find a way to get ourselves oriented down here,” they say, firmly, as though steeling themselves. “Once we can figure out how to get around… find out the lay of the land… we can go off on our own. That should help. And you’re right… the gods will take care of the rest. They’ll know how to fix this.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” you reassure them, understanding how helpless they must feel. “And at the very least it probably helps to remember that we couldn’t have prevented any disruption that might have already happened with the //Wisp’s// crew - neither of us was in a position to avoid them coming across us. //They// reached out to us, not the other way around.”
They grunt in acknowledgement, though they still seem troubled. “I just keep thinking that Osnach must have put me on this path for a reason. At first I thought that it was so that I could keep everyone from twisting the crew’s souls too much, but… maybe it was about meeting you, instead.”
Their words are heavy - profound, in a way - <<if $faith < 54>>and a sign for you that Tehemia takes their faith extremely seriously, moreso than you do, it would seem<<else>>and a reminder for you that you’re not alone down here, no matter how bad things are<<endif>>.
“It’s always hard to tell in the moment,” you say in response, spreading your hands helplessly, and they laugh.
“You can say that again!”
They definitely seem less wound up than earlier during their fight with the captain… you’re glad you came over to check on them, for no reason other than that, at least.
“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking something somewhat personal?” you suggest, thinking that it might be a good time to change the subject.
They blink owlishly at you for a moment, but nod in the end. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know anything about how you came to be here?” you ask, as it’s something that you’ve been curious about ever since first hearing them talk. “Were you… taken from the southern islands? I feel like there are so many mysteries remaining.”
They hesitate before answering, and you can practically see what openness there was behind their eyes closing off as you watch.
“I think we should probably… get some sleep,” they tell you, finally, before walking away.
[[Well… that seems to be that, then. You can’t say that you particularly disagree, though.|ch128]]If he notices what you’re thinking, you can’t tell - the look he’s giving you is impressively blank, despite the fact that all you can see of his face is his eyes once more. You suppose that means that if he //did// notice, he doesn’t really have much to say about it… which could be either a good thing or a bad one, depending on your perspective.
Then again, given everything that’s happening right now with the hole between the Underworld and the real one and the souls being ripped from their rightful rest and so forth… maybe his lack of reaction is more sensible than going around admiring the appearance of people you’ve just met.
Or maybe he really didn’t notice, it’s hard to tell. You’re probably overthinking this.
Probably.
“Can I ask you something about the //Wisp//?” you inquire eventually, thinking that you should probably break the silence.
“About the ship?” he responds, sounding slightly surprised. “I’m not an expert, but go ahead.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” you ask, waving a hand at the mast above you, the sailcloth fluttering in the breeze. “The scrambling to get various sailing things done, I mean. Is that something I should expect to have to do a lot while I’m here?”
<<if $skillcheckpass eq 0>>
He coughs, in what you think might be an attempt to hide a laugh, but you just roll your eyes in response.
“Yes, okay, I didn’t do a great job of trying to help. That’s why I’m asking.”
<<endif>>
He hums thoughtfully, turning his gaze back towards the aft of the ship. “Not a lot, I don’t think. I’ve helped them on occasion, usually when they need to change direction, or when leaving a port. Mostly they just point the ship in a direction and sail until they can’t anymore, and that seems to be relatively easy for them to handle, even… while short-handed.”
You ponder that for a few moments; you suppose it makes sense that an ethereal river that might not even have currents wouldn’t require as much skilful sailing to navigate as the ocean, or even a real river.
“I don’t know whether to be glad that this is about as eventful as things on board get, or regret the fact that I apparently missed all of the peaceful bits,” you tell him, feeling exhausted, and you think that you might hear him chuckle softly underneath his mask.
“I think we’re all at least a little relieved that it wasn’t worse, deep down.”
[[He can say that again. You don’t even want to imagine what could constitute as “worse” than this…|ch1v203]]He seems to notice what you’re thinking, if the way he fidgets uncomfortably under your gaze is any indication.
“Are you… all right?” you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant and probably not quite succeeding. “I know everything that’s going on is… //a lot//, but if there’s something else bothering you-”
“I’m fine,” he declares, gruffly, and for a moment you think he might be about to just walk away from the conversation altogether.
He shifts his weight from foot to foot a few times, seemingly gripped by indecision about whether to leave or not; you suppose that whatever it is (you don’t believe him for a second that he’s actually fine, of course), it must be yet another thing he doesn’t want to talk about.
He seems to have a lot of those. No wonder it’s all taking its toll on him, on top of everything that you witnessed today.
“Can I ask you something about the //Wisp//?” you inquire eventually, thinking it might be best to change the subject.
“About the ship?” he responds, relaxing just a little. “I’m not an expert, but go ahead.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” you ask, waving a hand at the mast above you, the sailcloth fluttering in the breeze. “The scrambling to get various sailing things done, I mean. Is that something I should expect to have to do a lot while I’m here?”
<<if $skillcheckpass eq 0>>
He coughs, in what you think might be an attempt to hide a laugh, but you just roll your eyes in response.
“Yes, okay, I didn’t do a great job of trying to help. That’s why I’m asking.”
<<endif>>
He hums thoughtfully, turning his gaze back towards the aft of the ship. “Not a lot, I don’t think. I’ve helped them on occasion, usually when they need to change direction, or when leaving a port. Mostly they just point the ship in a direction and sail until they can’t anymore, and that seems to be relatively easy for them to handle, even… while short-handed.”
You ponder that for a few moments; you suppose it makes sense that an ethereal river that might not even have currents wouldn’t require as much skilful sailing to navigate as the ocean, or even a real river.
“I don’t know whether to be glad that this is about as eventful as things on board get, or regret the fact that I apparently missed all of the peaceful bits,” you tell him, feeling exhausted, and you think that you might hear him chuckle softly underneath his mask.
“I think we’re all at least a little relieved that it wasn’t worse, deep down.”
[[He can say that again. You don’t even want to imagine what could constitute as “worse” than this…|ch1v203]]He turns away from you for a second, gazing out over the port bow. “The crew don’t usually come up here, especially at night. I suppose I’ll have to remember not to let my guard down from now on.”
You’re thrown somewhat off-balance by the fact that he feels like he needs to keep his guard up around you, but you suppose it does at least explain why he always seems so tense.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you tell him, and he sighs heavily as he turns back to face you.
“No, it’s all right. Given everything that’s going on, this is probably a petty thing to be worrying about. Sometimes I just prefer to be alone, that’s all - it didn’t occur to me that you and the other survivors might be different.”
“I promise to leave you alone once the world has stopped being torn apart,” you offer, amused, and to your surprise he actually laughs at that.
“I appreciate it.”
“Can I ask you something about the //Wisp//?” you inquire after a slight pause, when he doesn't give any indication that he wants you to leave.
“About the ship?” he responds, sounding slightly surprised. “I’m not an expert, but go ahead.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” you ask, waving a hand at the mast above you, the sailcloth fluttering in the breeze. “The scrambling to get various sailing things done, I mean. Is that something I should expect to have to do a lot while I’m here?”
<<if $skillcheckpass eq 0>>
He coughs, in what you think might be an attempt to hide a laugh, but you just roll your eyes in response.
“Yes, okay, I didn’t do a great job of trying to help. That’s why I’m asking.”
<<endif>>
He hums thoughtfully, turning his gaze back towards the aft of the ship. “Not a lot, I don’t think. I’ve helped them on occasion, usually when they need to change direction, or when leaving a port. Mostly they just point the ship in a direction and sail until they can’t anymore, and that seems to be relatively easy for them to handle, even… while short-handed.”
You ponder that for a few moments; you suppose it makes sense that an ethereal river that might not even have currents wouldn’t require as much skilful sailing to navigate as the ocean, or even a real river.
“I don’t know whether to be glad that this is about as eventful as things on board get, or regret the fact that I apparently missed all of the peaceful bits,” you tell him, feeling exhausted, and you think that you might hear him chuckle softly underneath his mask.
“I think we’re all at least a little relieved that it wasn’t worse, deep down.”
[[He can say that again. You don’t even want to imagine what could constitute as “worse” than this…|ch1v203]]He gives you a withering look - not quite of the same intensity as the one he was giving the captain earlier, but pretty close, if you’re any judge - and crosses his arms somewhat defiantly.
“The ‘point’ is that I want to wear it,” he growls, and then you’re not left with many options in how to respond that won’t immediately start a fight.
While it isn’t exactly any of your business, you don’t see any particular reason for him to keep wearing it. On the other hand, however, he obviously has his own motives, and his reaction definitely indicates that he isn’t exactly going to be receptive to changing his mind.
You just shrug, in the end. Let him go to the extra effort of hiding his face for no real reason, if he wants.
“Can I ask you something about the //Wisp//?” you inquire eventually, thinking it might be best to change the subject.
“About the ship?” he responds, relaxing just a little. “I’m not an expert, but go ahead.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” you ask, waving a hand at the mast above you, the sailcloth fluttering in the breeze. “The scrambling to get various sailing things done, I mean. Is that something I should expect to have to do a lot while I’m here?”
<<if $skillcheckpass eq 0>>
He coughs, in what you think might be an attempt to hide a laugh, but you just roll your eyes in response.
“Yes, okay, I didn’t do a great job of trying to help. That’s why I’m asking.”
<<endif>>
He hums thoughtfully, turning his gaze back towards the aft of the ship. “Not a lot, I don’t think. I’ve helped them on occasion, usually when they need to change direction, or when leaving a port. Mostly they just point the ship in a direction and sail until they can’t anymore, and that seems to be relatively easy for them to handle, even… while short-handed.”
You ponder that for a few moments; you suppose it makes sense that an ethereal river that might not even have currents wouldn’t require as much skilful sailing to navigate as the ocean, or even a real river.
“I don’t know whether to be glad that this is about as eventful as things on board get, or regret the fact that I apparently missed all of the peaceful bits,” you tell him, feeling exhausted, and you think that you might hear him grunt in assent underneath his mask.
“I think we’re all at least a little relieved that it wasn’t worse, deep down.”
[[He can say that again. You don’t even want to imagine what could constitute as “worse” than this…|ch1v203]]You watch him in silence for a few seconds, his eyes wandering over the rigging above the two of you with a strange, nostalgic kind of longing, as though he’s gazing at memories instead of a bizarre ship on a magical river in the Underworld.
“Do you know much about ships?” you ask him, wondering if he might be a sailor. “In general, I mean, not outdated ones like the //Wisp//.”
He looks at you in what seems to be some degree of surprise, shaking his head. “I can’t even remember the last time I travelled by boat - not when it’s so much easier to fly, these days. The closest I’d been to a ship in years before ending up here was a replica display of one from this era at a local museum.”
You suppose that probably explains the nostalgia. It does make you curious as to where he might be from, though - you don’t think you’ve ever come across a nautical museum before.
“So you know more about this kind of ship than modern ones?” you press, <<if $vanator >= 25>>pleasantly <<endif>>surprised that the conversation is still going. “I can’t even guess what half of these ropes do, if I’m being honest.”
<<if $vanator < 25>>
You’re not entirely sure why you’re bothering to carry on talking; it’s not as though the two of you are particularly //close//. Then again, after everything you’ve been through since waking up today, there’s a strange kind of normalcy here with him that you can’t really get from the others - talking about boats, and it being faster to travel by air, instead of any of the actual disasters going on.
You doubt the other survivor has much they want to talk about other than how their life has been turned upside-down… just like yours. And neither the crew nor Our Lady can really be classified as normal, regardless of anything else you might say about them.
So… here you are.
<<endif>>
He snorts<<if $vanator < 25>> at your statement<<endif>>, partly in amusement and partly in exasperation. “At least half of them are either unnecessary except in certain circumstances, or connecting other ropes to each other. You’d think the captain would dispense with some of the redundant aspects now that they don’t have to worry about ocean storms, but everything on board is exactly as it was during her lifetime - they even have racks of //muskets// in the weapons locker. Do you know how long it takes to reload a musket?”
You shake your head, bemused, watching as he launches into an explanation. He’s more animated than you’ve seen him in all of the time you’ve known him so far (which, admittedly, isn’t saying much), miming loading the ball into the muzzle of the gun and doing //something// with what seems to be some kind of imaginary rod as he describes the process.
“-and then of course, by the time you’ve done all this, the enemy has advanced all the way across the distance between you and you’re probably dead,” he finishes, drily, and somehow, in this moment where you’re just two people stuck in the Underworld using historical knowledge he’s learned from museums to parse the way the inhabitants live, it’s hysterically funny.
[[You have to laugh… you can’t imagine any situation more bizarrely comical than the one you’re currently in.|ch1v203a]]You watch him as he lingers there, motionless, frozen for a few seconds in what seems like disbelief. He gradually relaxes just slightly as he realises that you mean it, though, seeing as you’re not asking any new questions.
“I appreciate that,” he replies quietly, fiddling idly with the sleeves of his coat. “And I understand why you had to ask.”
You offer him a small smile that you like to think is only somewhat strained. “I’m not trying to make life difficult for anyone.<<if $amnesia eq true>> Unfortunately the difficulties just seem to be following me.<<endif>> Hopefully I’ll be out of your hair soon - if you’re planning on staying down here, I mean.”
He goes still again suddenly, though at least this time he doesn’t seem irritated. “I… hadn’t thought about… leaving. Are you going to try and find a way out?”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
“Once everything has been sorted out and the world isn’t falling apart, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re slightly surprised by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "intervention">>
“Once we can rouse the gods and get them to put everything back in order, absolutely,” you answer. “They might even be able to help us leave, if we’re lucky.”
You have to admit, you find yourself slightly surprised by his statement, though. He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "answers">>
“Once we figure out what on earth is going on, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re slightly surprised by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<else>>
You raise an eyebrow at him, baffled by his statement. “Of course! What else would I be interested in doing down here?”
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<endif>>
He hesitates for a second, eyes stuck firmly to the timbers beneath his feet; you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about.
<<if $vanator >= 25>>
“You’re obviously welcome to come along,” you suggest, mildly. “I wouldn’t leave you behind if you wanted to come, of course.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he declares hoarsely, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I-” he begins haltingly, and then seems to catch himself, turning away to look out at the river once again. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll think about it.”
<<endif>><<else>>
“You should come along,” you suggest, grinning. “Surely not even you are so stubborn that you’ll stay in the Underworld just to avoid me.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he growls, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I’ll think about it,” he responds eventually, though his longsuffering tone conveys pretty much the opposite message.
<<endif>><<endif>>
And with that, he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs with a speed that you feel it’s not worth trying to match, what with your sore ribs and all.
You feel like you’ve been left with a dozen more questions than you had before coming to talk to him… it’s truly impressive that he can manage to be such a confounding mystery when you’re in the middle of some kind of terrible cataclysm that has torn the world asunder.
[[You suppose there’s not much else to do but go back to Soillere and find somewhere to sleep.|ch128]]He only shrugs in response, apparently not interested in speculating. In his defence, you suppose he did try to leave to go to bed just before this.
“It’s all a mystery to me,” he replies, tiredly, and at this point in time, you find it hard to disagree.
“Hopefully we won’t have to wrestle with it for much longer,” you say, sighing. “I’m sure we’re all eager to go home and be able to stop thinking about it forever.”
He goes still again suddenly, though at least this time he doesn’t seem irritated. “I… hadn’t thought about… leaving. Are you going to try and find a way out?”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
“Once everything has been sorted out and the world isn’t falling apart, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re slightly surprised by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "intervention">>
“Once we can rouse the gods and get them to put everything back in order, absolutely,” you answer. “They might even be able to help us leave, if we’re lucky.”
You have to admit, you find yourself slightly surprised by his statement, though. He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "answers">>
“Once we figure out what on earth is going on, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re slightly surprised by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<else>>
You raise an eyebrow at him, baffled by his statement. “Of course! What else would I be interested in doing down here?”
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<endif>>
He hesitates for a second, eyes stuck firmly to the timbers beneath his feet; you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about.
<<if $vanator >= 25>>
“You’re obviously welcome to come along,” you suggest, mildly. “I wouldn’t leave you behind if you wanted to come, of course.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he declares hoarsely, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I-” he begins haltingly, and then seems to catch himself, turning away to look out at the river once again. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll think about it.”
<<endif>><<else>>
“You should come along,” you suggest, grinning. “Surely not even you are so stubborn that you’ll stay in the Underworld just to avoid me.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he growls, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I’ll think about it,” he responds eventually, though his longsuffering tone conveys pretty much the opposite message.
<<endif>><<endif>>
And with that, he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs with a speed that you feel it’s not worth trying to match, what with your sore ribs and all.
You feel like you’ve been left with a dozen more questions than you had before coming to talk to him… it’s truly impressive that he can manage to be such a confounding mystery when you’re in the middle of some kind of terrible cataclysm that has torn the world asunder.
[[You suppose there’s not much else to do but go back to Soillere and find somewhere to sleep.|ch128]]He stiffens straightaway, taking a deep breath in what seems to be an effort to calm himself down. He gradually forces himself to relax just slightly - no doubt aided in some part by the fact that it’s clear that you mean it, given that you haven’t asked any more questions.
“I //appreciate// that,” he replies sardonically, once he’s back under control. “I’ve never been so glad to be so beneath someone’s notice.”
You shrug, ignoring his tone for the moment. “We need to focus on the task at hand. If you’re telling the truth, then unless you know a way to leave the Underworld, there’s no reason for us to waste time sharing any information at all.”
He goes still again suddenly, though at least this time he doesn’t seem irritated. “I… hadn’t thought about… leaving. Are you going to try and find a way out?”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
“Once everything has been sorted out and the world isn’t falling apart, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re slightly surprised by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "intervention">>
“Once we can rouse the gods and get them to put everything back in order, absolutely,” you answer. “They might even be able to help us leave, if we’re lucky.”
You have to admit, you find yourself slightly surprised by his statement, though. He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "answers">>
“Once we figure out what on earth is going on, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re slightly surprised by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<else>>
You raise an eyebrow at him, baffled by his statement. “Of course! What else would I be interested in doing down here?”
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<endif>>
He hesitates for a second, eyes stuck firmly to the timbers beneath his feet; you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about.
<<if $vanator >= 25>>
“You’re obviously welcome to come along,” you suggest, mildly. “I wouldn’t leave you behind if you wanted to come, of course.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he declares hoarsely, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I-” he begins haltingly, and then seems to catch himself, turning away to look out at the river once again. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll think about it.”
<<endif>><<else>>
“You could come along,” you suggest, mildly. “Strength in numbers, and all that.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he growls, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I’ll think about it,” he responds eventually, though his longsuffering tone conveys pretty much the opposite message.
<<endif>><<endif>>
And with that, he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs with a speed that you feel it’s not worth trying to match, what with your sore ribs and all.
You feel like you’ve been left with a dozen more questions than you had before coming to talk to him… it’s truly impressive that he can manage to be such a confounding mystery when you’re in the middle of some kind of terrible cataclysm that has torn the world asunder.
[[You suppose there’s not much else to do but go back to Soillere and find somewhere to sleep.|ch128]]He stiffens straightaway, taking a deep breath in what seems to be an effort to calm himself down. He mutters something under his breath - something unflattering about you, no doubt - and levels you with an extremely annoyed look.
“Are you sure?” he snaps, folding his arms. “No intrusive questions about my childhood or my health that you want to demand answers to?”
You grit your teeth in irritation, wondering why you even bothered coming to see him again. “The //only// things I want to know are what is going on and if you know how to leave the Underworld. It’s not even personal information - it’s entirely relevant to what’s going on right the fuck now!”
He goes still again suddenly, though at least this time he doesn’t seem like he’s about to start another argument. “I… hadn’t thought about… leaving. Are you going to try and find a way out?”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
“Once everything has been sorted out and the world isn’t falling apart, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re bewildered by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "intervention">>
“Once we can rouse the gods and get them to put everything back in order, absolutely,” you answer. “They might even be able to help us leave, if we’re lucky.”
You have to admit, you find yourself bewildered by his statement, though. He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<elseif $priority eq "answers">>
“Once we figure out what on earth is going on, absolutely,” you answer, though you have to admit you’re bewildered by his statement.
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<else>>
You raise an eyebrow at him, bewildered by his statement. “Of course! What else would I be interested in doing down here?”
He hasn’t even thought about trying to leave? Or does he just mean that he’d given up on trying to find a way out?
<<endif>>
He hesitates for a second, eyes stuck firmly to the timbers beneath his feet; you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about.
“You should come along,” you suggest, sarcastically. “Surely not even you are so stubborn that you’ll stay in the Underworld just to avoid me.”
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>
His eyes dart up to meet yours briefly, apparently against his better judgement. He holds your gaze for only the most fleeting of heartbeats before turning away abruptly, recoiling as though your eyes burn him.
“No,” he growls, still determinedly facing away from you. “I’m better off on my own.”
<<else>>
He sighs exasperatedly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. You wonder how much sleep, if any, he’s gotten over the past few days since the hole in the ceiling opened up.
“I’ll think about it,” he responds eventually, though his longsuffering tone conveys pretty much the opposite message.
<<endif>>
And with that, he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs with a speed that you feel it’s not worth trying to match, what with your sore ribs and all.
You feel like you’ve been left with a dozen more questions than you had before coming to talk to him… it’s truly impressive that he can manage to be such a confounding mystery when you’re in the middle of some kind of terrible cataclysm that has torn the world asunder. Impressive, and maddening.
[[You suppose there’s not much else to do but go back to Soillere and find somewhere to sleep.|ch128]]However, before you have a chance to bid farewell to Soillere, you’re suddenly seized by a horrible pain in your head, a great stabbing ache like clawed fingers ripping through your brain piece by piece. You screw your eyes shut, collapsing against a nearby <<if $room neq "nest">>wall<<else>>barrel<<endif>>, and try to drag your arms over your head, as though that will somehow drown out the pain.
Something in your mind is screaming, begging you to remember, even though it hurts…
<<if $amnesia eq true>>
…but it’s too much for you to handle right now. Today, after everything that’s happened… you can’t.
Everything is swimming. Your arms and legs feel fuzzy, like they’re drifting away from you. You think that maybe you can taste blood.
Before you know it, you hit the ground, barely aware of the impact, and you can’t seem to make yourself sit back up. You drift, sinking slowly into the waters of unconsciousness, unable to even reach for the surface.
<<if $room neq "nest">>
You’re aware, very dimly, as though you’re perceiving things through a heavy shroud of fog, of being carried somewhere… <<if $touchaverse eq true>>ordinarily you would feel highly uncomfortable about that, but given the way you just lost control of all your limbs, you suppose it was either this or being left on the floor.<<endif>>
The last thing you feel before your body surrenders to its need for rest is the<<if ($room eq "bilge") or ($room eq "quarters")>> feeling of weightlessness as someone places you gingerly in your hammock<<else>> softness of cloth against your back and under your head as someone places you carefully in your bed<<endif>>.
<<else>>
The last thing you hear before your body surrenders to its need for rest is Soillere muttering “There is //no way// I’m lugging you up into the crow’s nest.”
<<endif>>
[[Oblivion…|ch2tc]]
<<else>><<if $deity eq "Accharina">>
<<if $codex319 neq true>><<run memorize('codex319', true)>><<set $codex319 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Dragons<</notify>><<endif>>\
//-you struggle to breathe, your lungs attempting to reject every gasping gulp of air. The heat radiating from the beast’s gaping maw is so intense as to nearly suffocate you, reaching down inside your throat and causing it to close against your will. The inside of your nose smells like burning; the manacles on your wrists are searing agony against your skin.
“Is this really the best they could muster?” a voice grates from above you somewhere, presumably talking about you.
You keep your head down, and try to focus on breathing. Whoever it is, their voice is hoarse and husky, as though they’ve spent a lifetime inhaling smoke, and all that you can see of them is their boots, which are thick and lined with fur - you can’t imagine how they can stand it, not so close to this heat.
“I have found, Messere Ashwin,” a second voice responds, “that the general quality of ''most'' people consistently fails to impress me.”
This voice couldn’t be more different than the first; its tone is smooth, almost liquid, and there’s a lilting kind of accent to it that you can’t place, something close to wolven, maybe, but sharper, more clipped? Whatever it is, there’s an undercurrent of malice to the voice that makes you shiver, despite the temperature.
The first voice mutters something that you can’t hear, and its owner walks away, causing the beast to rumble and finally turn its head away from you, bringing blessedly cool relief at last.
This can’t be happening. Dragons are a ''myth''. It can’t be real… it can’t be-//
<<elseif $deity eq "Uchenqe">>
//-the air around you is thick with growls and the rumbling, barking vocalisations of a dozen or so wolven in their wolf forms; the smell of wet dog is overwhelming, but the atmosphere is the least of your worries at this point. The chains around your wrists are pulling in opposite directions, drawn incredibly taut - you feel like you’re slowly being pulled apart. Your whole torso aches, and just breathing is enough to cause you agony. Your lay your head back against the stone wall behind you, trying not to scream…
You know that’s what they want.
Silence falls suddenly as someone sweeps into the room regally, all of the wolven stepping back immediately to make room for them to walk. They’re resplendent in a dark red gown that falls all the way to the floor, and black lace gloves that extend up past their elbows. There’s a waxy, ashen pallor to their cool olive skin in the dingy light of the basement, and the blood-red colour of their lips makes you shudder and turn away. You go limp, hoping not to attract any attention.
“Is this them?” they ask, stopping in front of you, despite your efforts.
Their voice is clear and cool, like what ice would sound like if it could speak, with a thick wolven accent.
“Hm,” they say, thoughtfully, long fingernails digging into your skin as they turn your head this way and that in inspection. “Perhaps I should keep you.”
They smile predatorially, showing off their sharp, jagged set of overlapping canine teeth.
“''If'' you survive, that is.”//
<<elseif $deity eq "Nabhuti">>
//-the blindfold is tight, and heavy, making your head hurt even worse under the effects of your injuries. You occasionally hear the sounds of people moving around in the room, but for the most part the only noise you can hear is provided by your chains as you strain against them.
“Look sharp!” someone says suddenly, opening the door and walking into what sounds like the centre of the room. “The master of the house is home.”
They speak loudly, and there’s a sense of self-assuredness and deliberately-cultivated drama to their delivery that speaks of someone who needs to always be the centre of attention.
“Greetings, friend!” they say, smugly, clapping you on the head and then scoffing when you groan in pain. “Tch, touchy, aren’t you? Should have kept your nose out of other peoples’ business.”
“Their partner, the thym’ani, remains uncaptured, I see,” a second voice observes, sounding unimpressed.
This voice couldn’t be more different than the first; its tone is smooth, almost liquid, and there’s a lilting kind of accent to it that you can’t place, something close to wolven, maybe, but sharper, more clipped? Whatever it is, there’s an undercurrent of malice to the voice that makes you shiver, far more unsettling than the first speaker.
The first voice sighs theatrically. “Listen, bony, I don’t have time to hunt down every priest with a gun in this town for you. I’m having dinner with the eempress and then I’m going to make my big appearance before we destroy the world.”
“I ''still'' don’t think that you should-”//
<<else>>
//-you struggle against the foot on your back, pressing you down onto the floor in an act of forced obeisance, but with your arms and legs bound, it’s a losing battle.
The cement floor is musty, and unpleasant - it probably has some blood on it, which you try not to think about - but it’s still the least of your concerns right now.
“They will do,” an imperious voice says, probably referring to you, though the boot is not removed from your back.
The voice itself is like no other voice you’ve ever heard; it’s deep and throaty, and it seems to have two tones at once, as though two people are speaking in unison, though it belongs to only one person. The second tone seems to come a split-second after the first, creating a strange kind of echo… if you listen hard enough, you can almost convince yourself that the second tone is saying something different than the first.
“We have received a communication from Master Mayfield, your majesty,” a second voice says, in a deferential tone. “He wishes to know if you will be joining him and the empress for-”
“I have no time for that simpleton’s games,” the first voice interjects, authoritatively. “I have walked the paths of the Underworld and braved the Hall of Punishment. ''He'' is nothing.”
“Of course, your majesty.”
“Have this prisoner taken to the town centre with the others, and then-”//
<<endif>>
“Hey!” Soillere calls out in alarm, bringing you back to reality.
Or what currently passes for reality, anyway.
“Are you all right?” he asks, as you press your hand firmly against your temple and try to will your head to stop hurting.
“I… remembered something,” you tell him, still feeling dizzy. “It wasn’t… encouraging.”
He’s silent for a few seconds, watching you. “Well… whatever it was, I think it can wait until morning. You need to rest.”
Right now you really don’t have it in you to disagree.
“Good night,” he says, worriedly, as you make to turn in, and you grunt in response.
You <<if $room eq "nest">>wearily climb up through the rigging towards the small platform of the crow’s nest as he watches with some deegree of concern, and then lie down stiffly once you clamber into the nest itself. Soillere was right: there is genuinely only just enough room for you to fit. Luckily, you fall asleep immediately after closing your eyes.<<else>>lie down stiffly as soon as he leaves, and fall asleep immediately after closing your eyes.<<endif>>
[[Gods, let my dreams be better than these memories…|ch2tc]]<<endif>><<fadein 2500ms 4500ms>>[[The End… for now…|outro]]<</fadein>>You ask Soillere for directions to the surgery, since you don’t really feel like it’s worth making him step away from the ship’s wheel for, and he gives you a quick rundown of which corridors to follow. He seems sceptical about the idea that whoever this other person is might have woken up, which you suppose is fair enough given that the crew has been waiting on them for days on end, now… but you still feel like it’s worth checking at the very least.
It’s not all that difficult to find your way based on Soillere’s instructions, thankfully, although you and he do have somewhat different opinions on what constitutes a ‘wide’ corridor, and the fact that it’s not that far away either is also a relief. You head down the stairs, and then the flight that leads down to the next level, trying your best to ignore the stabbing in your ribs. There’s a door located behind the staircase, once you manage to get down that far - it seems to open into the midships area that supports the deck above.
The midships is deathly quiet as you enter, other than the creaking of the timbers; the silent, gloomy hallways are almost unsettling now that you’re separated from everyone else on board. It puts you in mind of those legends of ‘ghost ships’ that continue to sail with no crew aboard, and you shudder, trying not to think that the //Wisp// probably does fit into that category under at least some definitions.
The door into the surgery is nearby… Soillere described it as “the first one on the port side - I mean, left.”
You knock politely on the door once you arrive, thinking that it might help avoid scaring the person inside, if they are indeed awake, but although you wait for nearly half a minute, and knock once more just in case, you don’t receive an answer.
[[Maybe you should just take a quick look inside… see if you recognise them before you give up.|ch1a102]]Enter your custom pronoun equivalent of she/he/they here:
<<textbox "$xhe1" "">>
Sentence example: ''She'' walked down the street. ''They'' want to go home.
Enter your custom pronoun equivalent of her/him/them here:
<<textbox "$xir1" "">>
Sentence example: That belongs to ''him''. Have you seen ''them''?
Enter your custom pronoun equivalent of her/his/their here:
<<textbox "$xirs1" "">>
Sentence example: That’s ''her'' house. I have ''their'' message.
Enter your custom pronoun equivalent of hers/his/theirs here:
<<textbox "$xim1" "">>
Sentence example: That’s ''his''. ''Theirs'' is different.
Enter your custom pronoun equivalent of herself/himself/themself here:
<<textbox "$ximself1" "">>
Sentence example: She did it ''herself''. They ''themself'' learned on their own.
The next four parameters regard verb conjugation; as a general rule for simplicity, if your preferred pronoun behaves like a singular pronoun (he/she), set the first two options to ''s'' and ''es'' respectively, and the second two both to ''’s''. If it behaves like a plural pronoun (they), leave the first two blank, and set the second two to ''’re'' and ''’ve''.
Enter your custom equivalent of a strong present participle conjugation here:
<<textbox "$verb_s1" "">>
Sentence example: She sing''s'' well. They don't sing much at all.
Enter your custom equivalent of a weak present participle conjugation here:
<<textbox "$verb_es1" "">>
Sentence example: He watch''es'' carefully. They watch the wall.
Enter you custom equivalent of a contraction with is/are here:
<<textbox "$verb_re1" "">>
Sentence example: She''’s'' coming soon. They''’re'' quite strong.
Enter your custom equivalent of a contraction with has/have here:
<<textbox "$verb_ve1" "">>
Sentence example: He''’s'' been busy. They''’ve'' had a lot to do.
[[Confirm.|ch111d1]]<<if $codex204 neq true>><<run memorize('codex204', true)>><<set $codex204 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Breech-loading weapons<</notify>><<endif>>\
At the end of the path of gum trees, you see one of the benches that you had been hoping to find, sheltered under the wide canopy of a vibrantly-flowering jacaranda. The clusters of purple flowers wave slightly in the breeze, enticing you, and you sit down, breathing in the many scents of nature doing its best to impress as they waft all around you.
That same feeling of dread is still eating at you, somewhere in the pit of your stomach. It seems even more out of place, even more worth addressing, here amongst the floral splendour, away from any obvious dangers.
You sigh, passing a hand over your eyes. You don’t even know where to start trying to untangle this mess.
The people who had attacked you had been lamerrans, members of a fringe group of dissidents hoping to curtail immigration (and emigration) within their homeland, under fears that their people would gradually disappear, to be replaced by humans, if they didn’t. Their weapons - revolvers and standard breech-loading rifles, Coalition-made - had been unusual for lamerrans, who tended usually to rely much more heavily on magic than firearms.
Not to mention hypocritical, given their beliefs about humans.
After your scuffle, they had been remanded to the custody of the local wardens, awaiting sentencing. For a brief moment, you consider going to speak with them, to see if the wardens have uncovered any information that you might find interesting… but if you’ve learned anything in your time working for the church, it’s to try not to step on the toes of your fellow servants of the gods when you can avoid it.
You had already accompanied the wardens to search the criminals’ headquarters, after all. There had been nothing much to find; a few stragglers, some more weapons, and a few vats of sunflower seed oil that they had seemed to be working on extracting more of.
All in all, not a whole lot to go on.
You look over in the direction of the clocktower, looming above the skyline of the rest of the city, and see that it’s now just a few minutes before midnight. //That should be late enough for Enarra’s ambassadorial dinner to be over//, you think to yourself, as you begin to make your way back towards the streets. You feel that you’ve done more than enough waiting around on your own for tonight.
[[It’s time to actually do something about all this.|prlg10]]<<if $codex205 neq true>><<run memorize('codex205', true)>><<set $codex205 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Bolt-action weapons<</notify>><<endif>>\
You move to sit down on a nearby rock, trying to relax. If anything should be able to calm you down, you think that it should certainly be the beauty of the ocean at night.
But that same feeling of dread is still eating at you, somewhere in the pit of your stomach. It seems even more out of place, even more worth addressing, here before the ceaseless waves, away from any obvious dangers.
You sigh, passing a hand over your eyes. You don’t even know where to start trying to untangle this mess.
The people who had attacked you had been wolven, a rather motley assortment armed primarily with hatchets and maces, and a few of the Empire’s standard bolt-action rifles. It was hard to tell whether they were more likely to be for or against the current Empress; her people hadn’t claimed knowledge of them - but then, they wouldn’t, if they were spies. And if they were here to make some move against her, it didn’t make much sense to tip their hand so poorly by attacking unrelated servants of the gods in the streets.
After your scuffle, they had been remanded to the custody of the local wardens, awaiting sentencing. For a brief moment, you consider going to speak with them, to see if the wardens have uncovered any information that you might have missed… but if you’ve learned anything in your time working for the church, it’s to try not to step on the toes of your fellow servants of the gods when you can avoid it.
You had already accompanied the wardens to search your attackers’ base of operations, after all. There had been nothing much to find; a few stragglers, some more weapons, and a few rough schematics for what looked like some kind of experimental clockwork walking bomb.
All in all, not a whole lot to go on.
You look over in the direction of the clocktower, looming above the skyline of the rest of the city, and see that it’s now just a few minutes before midnight. //That should be late enough for Enarra’s ambassadorial dinner to be over//, you think to yourself, as you begin to make your way back towards the streets. You feel that you’ve done more than enough waiting around on your own for tonight.
[[It’s time to actually do something about all this.|prlg10]]<<if $codex204 neq true>><<run memorize('codex204', true)>><<set $codex204 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Breech-loading weapons<</notify>><<endif>>\
You take a deep breath in, feeling the cold, gentle breeze whisper past you, carrying the scent of the sea inland. Before you, the smattering of stars that makes up the Celestial River extends all the way to the horizon, burning tiny pinpricks of light through the fog. From this height, you can watch the sheets of mist rolling slowly across the buildings like a shroud, swallowing the manmade lights that dot the cityscape below you.
That same feeling of dread is still eating at you, somewhere in the pit of your stomach. It seems even more out of place, even more worth addressing, here under the gleaming silver stars, away from any obvious dangers.
You sigh, passing a hand over your eyes. You don’t even know where to start trying to untangle this mess.
The people who had attacked you had been human, members of what seemed to be quite a richly-outfitted mercenary company. Their weapons, including breech-loading rifles and rapiers, had been of extremely high quality, and they were all wearing matching livery in their company’s colours. You couldn’t think of any reason why a mercenary company would be attacking you and Enarra on sight in the street… or who would be paying them to do so.
After your scuffle, they had been remanded to the custody of the local wardens, awaiting sentencing. For a brief moment, you consider going to speak with them, to see if the wardens have uncovered any information that you might have missed… but if you’ve learned anything in your time working for the church, it’s to try not to step on the toes of your fellow servants of the gods when you can avoid it.
You had already accompanied the wardens to search one of the mercenaries’ lairs, after all. There had been nothing much to find; a few stragglers, some more weapons, and a few backpack glider kits like the kind used to break a fall from a large height - expensive gear, indeed.
All in all, not a whole lot to go on.
You look over in the direction of the clocktower, looming above the skyline of the rest of the city, and see that it’s now just a few minutes before midnight. //That should be late enough for Enarra’s ambassadorial dinner to be over//, you think to yourself, as you begin to make your way back towards the streets. You feel that you’ve done more than enough waiting around on your own for tonight.
[[It’s time to actually do something about all this.|prlg10]]<<if $codex206 neq true>><<run memorize('codex206', true)>><<set $codex206 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: thym’ani laser weapons<</notify>><<endif>>\
The noise of the partygoers washes over you, blocking out your thoughts; it’s a bit like the ocean, only without the cold sea air, and a bit like being alone, only without the ‘alone’ part. The sound buffets you, jostles you like a boat in a storm - and at least for a while, under its attentions, you don’t have to think about anything. You can just be.
But that makes you realise… that same feeling of dread is still eating at you, somewhere in the pit of your stomach. It seems even more out of place, even more worth addressing, here in the lamplight on the outskirts of the party, away from any obvious dangers.
You sigh, passing a hand over your eyes. You don’t even know where to start trying to untangle this mess.
The people who had attacked you had been thym’ani; there had only been two of them, but considering the punch that many thym’ani weapons can pack, two of them is usually more than enough. Enarra was probably extremely lucky that they had also been armed with cheap revolvers that had evidently been closer to hand than their laser weapons.
There was nothing in particular about the attackers to distinguish them from any other thym’ani you might run across on the street - apart from them shooting at you, at least. You couldn’t really guess at any kind of motive they might have had.
After your scuffle, they had been remanded to the custody of the wardens in the area, awaiting sentencing. For a brief moment, you consider going to speak with them, to see if they might have uncovered any information that you had missed… but if you’ve learned anything in your time working for the church, it’s to try not to step on the toes of your fellow servants of the gods when you can avoid it.
You had already accompanied the wardens to search the pair’s lodgings, after all. There had been nothing much to find; a few more revolvers, and a collection of aerial maps of Badjawarrah, though they hadn’t marked anything on them as important.
All in all, not a whole lot to go on.
You look over in the direction of the clocktower, looming above the skyline of the rest of the city, and see that it’s now just a few minutes before midnight. //That should be late enough for Enarra’s ambassadorial dinner to be over//, you think to yourself, as you begin to make your way back towards the streets. You feel that you’ve done more than enough waiting around on your own for tonight.
[[It’s time to actually do something about all this.|prlg10]]Nothing…
<<fadein 2500ms 4500ms>>You feel… nothing…<</fadein>>
<<fadein 2500ms 9000ms>>…are you dead?<</fadein>><<fadein 2500ms 13500ms>> Surely if you were dead, there wouldn’t be anyone here to wonder that.<</fadein>><<fadein 2s 15500ms>> …would there?<</fadein>>
<<fadein 2500ms 20000ms>>//WAKE UP, LITTLE ONE.//<</fadein>>
<<fadein 1500ms 21500ms>>[[…who said that?|ch101b]]<</fadein>><<if $codex207 neq true>><<run memorize('codex207', true)>><<set $codex207 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Soul-familiars<</notify>><<endif>>\
“I was just about to go and collect my partner, but I’ve done a few patrols through the city, and haven’t found anything suspicious. Are you all going to investigate?”
Though Dassine meets your eyes calmly, you see a few of the wardens behind her shifting in what seems like anxiety, and you wonder how old a few of them could possibly be. Maybe it’s a good thing that it was you and Enarra who were attacked on the street the other day and not any of these rookie wardens…
While you’re thinking about that, the Judicar looks you over again, apparently evaluating something. Her warm black skin almost seems to glow in the orange light of a nearby lamppost, the shadows highlighting the delicate angular nature of her features, and her deep-set grey eyes are wide and steady. Her shoulder-length black hair, styled into box braids as usual, has also been gathered into a bunch at the nape of her neck to keep it out of her face - perhaps another indication that she means business tonight.
There’s a brief rustling from the folds of deep blue robes gathered around her neck, and a tiny fox with proportionately gigantic ears - you think it’s called a fennec? - pokes its head out into the chilly air, nose twitching in dissatisfaction. You smile slightly at the little fox’s obvious dislike of the cold, knowing him to be Dassine’s soul-familiar, named Kit.
Finally, she seems to find whatever it was she was seeking in her inspection of you. “Whatever is going on, I don’t like it. I think perhaps we should join forces.”
You exhale sharply in relief, nodding. “As you say, Judicar. I’m eager to get to the bottom of… whatever this is. I’ll fetch Enarra and then come back - where should we meet you?”
She gives you directions to a forward station where a few groups of wardens had agreed to meet, and you part ways feeling much more sure of yourself than you had earlier in the night. It’s certainly going to be easier to convince Enarra that trouble is afoot when you can tell him that the Judicar wants your help with something.
He still shouldn’t be fighting while injured, of course, but hopefully with Dassine and her people there, he’ll only be needed as backup. And if it’s so bad that he //does// need to fight, well… he wouldn’t be any safer on his own.
You make it all the way back to where you started from before you feel a sudden prickle of that same ominous feeling again. Above you, the implacable clock begins to strike midnight.
[[You hope that you can get all of this solved quickly and-|prlg11]]It isn’t long before all thoughts of whatever she might be doing are banished from your mind and replaced with a dogged kind of dread. You snake through winding alleyways somewhere in the portside district, skittering through puddles and clambering over stone walls, and with every step you take the pulling sensation that you’re feeling seems to grow louder and louder, until it’s practically roaring in your ears.
You’re sure you couldn’t find your way back here on purpose.
And then, all at once, it stops, as you draw to a halt outside a large stone building. A weight that you didn’t know had been pressing down on you is lifted off your mind. You look around once more for Dassine, but she still seems to be nowhere to be found. While you inspect the area, however, you hear a few strange noises coming from around towards the back of the building.
Scraping. Muffled voices. And, most tellingly that you’re in the right place, the occasional pained moan.
You’re not left with much choice other than to attempt to bust in. Several of the rookie wardens you saw earlier in the night are still unaccounted for-not to mention Dassine, wherever she might be. You can’t leave them to the devices of such an obviously dangerous enemy, even if it means risking your own life.
The building, somewhat unusually for Badjawarrah, seems to have some kind of a basement, the source of the sounds that you can hear. There’s a drop of several metres down from where you are to the basement access door, onto what looks like solid stone; regular citizenry presumably make their way down via the nearby extendable ladder, but it’s currently retracted and secured to the top of the wall with chains and a padlock.
You could brave the jump down, or you could attempt to force the ladder free. There’s also bound to be an interior access… but all the stores on the building’s frontage will almost certainly be closed and locked at this hour.
[[Wrench the chains loose and let down the ladder.|prlg13a][$frc += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Force//]<<endif>>
[[Make the drop. It might hurt, but not enough to stop you.|prlg13b][$end += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Endurance//]<<endif>>
[[Just break in through one of the shop windows. The church can reimburse them if they complain.|prlg13c][$decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency//]<<endif>>Just to double-check, here are some examples using the custom pronouns you have entered:
I use $xhe1/$xir1 pronouns.
<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>> says that’s $xirs1 coat.
I think that sword is $xim1.
I think $xhe1 did it $ximself1.
<<print $xhe1.toUpperFirst()>> look$verb_s1 tired.
<<print $xirs1.toUpperFirst()>> familiar watch$verb_es1 over $xir1.
Look, <<print $xhe1>><<print $verb_re1>> coming!
Yes, <<print $xhe1>><<print $verb_ve1>> arrived.
[[No, let me tweak them some more.|ch111d]]
[[Yes, those look good.|ch111b][$xhe2 = $xhe1, $xhe3 = $xhe1, $xir2 = $xir1, $xir3 = $xir1, $xirs2 = $xirs1, $xirs3 = $xirs1, $xim2 = $xim1, $xim3 = $xim1, $ximself2 = $ximself1, $ximself3 = $ximself1, $verb_s2 = $verb_s1, $verb_s3 = $verb_s1, $verb_es2 = $verb_es1, $verb_es3 = $verb_es1, $verb_re2 = $verb_re1, $verb_re3 = $verb_re1, $verb_ve2 = $verb_ve1, $verb_ve3 = $verb_ve1]]<<if $codex205 neq true>><<run memorize('codex205', true)>><<set $codex205 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Bolt-action weapons<</notify>><<endif>>\
The rifle isn’t pointed at you… that’s something at least. You still feel extremely exposed down here on the ground, though, and you’re tensed and ready to dive for the cover of a nearby building at the slightest provocation.
You don’t have the best view of them, with the moon at their back and the streetlamp down here ruining your nightvision. They’re bulky, you can tell that much - you find yourself hoping that you won’t have to wrestle them hand-to-hand - and they appear to be dressed in dark clothes. As you watch, they reach up and push their hood back, revealing their face: they appear fair-skinned and light-haired, though the leaching effect of the moonlight behind them makes it hard to tell exactly what their colouring is.
//YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME. IGNORE HER!//
You startle at the sudden telepathic intrusion and look around wildly, wondering if Dassine is somewhere nearby. How else would she know what you’re doing? And does she know the person on the roof of the building?
You can’t see her anywhere… but the sense of direction you had been following has transformed from a vague sensation into a determined tug, and you’re finding it harder and harder to resist. You take a few involuntary steps in the direction of the pull, and then manage to stop, wondering if you should do something about either the fallen wardens or the person - whoever she may be - on the rooftop, regardless of the mental instructions.
You’re spared having to debate the issue when she raises her rifle into the air and fires a shot upwards, directly at the sky.
You leap clumsily out of her line of sight, and then by dint of it already being moving, your body clearly decides to return to following Dassine’s directions. It’s hard to find a good reason to go against the insistent tugging as the shots continue to ring out behind you - multiple rounds before a reload, clearly an Imperial bolt-action rifle - so you don’t.
The gunshots will attract attention from other nearby wardens anyway; dimly, you think perhaps that this might have been the purpose behind the person on the roof firing them. Is she one of the Empress’ people, an extra security precaution for the diplomatic visit? It seems as good an explanation as any. It certainly seems more likely than her being behind the attack now that she’s actively trying to attract attention to the scene.
[[At least that’s one less thing for you to worry about.|prlg12b][$codex205 = true]][[Prologue|prlg01]]''Welcome to The Black River!''
First and foremost, I would like to acknowledge the Giabal people, Traditional Custodians of the land on which this piece of interactive fiction was created, and pay my respects to their Elders, past and present. I extend that acknowledgement and respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples living here today. Sovereignty was never ceded. Black Lives Matter.
Now, onto the game details!
//The Black River// is a steampunk fantasy game in an original setting that touches heavily on issues of faith and family. Make friends (//or enemies//), try to keep your head (//or don’t//) and trust in your gods (//or forsake them//) as you try to keep the world from ending, from the depths of the most inhospitable place you’ve ever found yourself stuck in: the Underworld.
''Customisation Options''
- choose one of four gods to serve: the motherly ''Accharina'', who oversees the cycle of birth and rebirth; the kingly ''Uchenqe'', ruler of the Underworld; the righteous ''Nabhuti'', who judges the souls of mortals after they die; or the grim ''Osnach'', who searches the earth for lost souls to help them pass on
- play as a magic-user, a ranged fighter or a melee warrior, each with unique flavour based on your choice of temple faction
- choose from four races: play as a ''human'' from a steampunk setting; a ''wolven'', a race of lycanthropes whose technology is based more heavily on gears and clockwork than steam; a ''lamerran'', a society that relies heavily on magic, and in which each person has a magical animal familiar that forms part of their soul; or as one of the odd ''thym’ani'', a race with highly-advanced technology that crash-landed on a journey from faraway, and have four arms and four eyes each
- as well as character appearance customisation, pronouns, and name of course
<<message 'Click here to expand/collapse a list of the Relationship Options that are available.'>>''Annos'' (he/him) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 1. //Tossed into the same heady cauldron of sacrifice and trauma as the MC, Annos suffered worse at the hands of your tormentors than any of the rest of you, but none of you can figure out why, as he also has the worst case of amnesia. The last thing he remembers is working for an archaeological expedition five years ago… so why do guns seem to fit so comfortably in his hands? And why does he keep dreaming of the darkness under the mountains?//
A silver-skinned thym’ani with hair the colour of brass and pale green eyes. Pansexual (allo, ace and open relationship options available).
''Barthelemy Emile l’Olonnais'' (he/him) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 2. //Barthelemy has been a doctor for more than 350 years, but he’s still never quite managed to develop an approachable bedside manner. Though to be fair, dying ten years into that career might have something to do with it. All he wants is peace, but the violent arrival of MC and their compatriots may have put paid to that - for good. But maybe there’s something lurking beneath his surly exterior that friendship can uncover…//
A ghostly human with olive skin, black hair and brown eyes. Pansexual aromantic (FWB (no romance), QPR and open relationship options available).
''Dassine ult Sidi'' (she/her) - APPEARING MIDWAY THROUGH THE GAME. //Dassine has been a loyal warden in the service of the Judiciary since the day she finished her education. When chaos descends on the world, she and her fennec soul-familiar set out to find the person she trusts the most to handle everything: the High Judicar, Namsun. What she finds will set her on a path that leads to meeting MC and learning to believe in herself more - with or without MC’s help.//
A black-skinned lamerran with braided black hair and dark grey eyes. Aroace (QPR relationship option only available).
''Gervaise Annick Suvillier'' (they/them) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 2. //Nothing is ever as permanent - or transitory - as it seems. Gervaise took a job as a navigator hoping to avoid their family for a few weeks, but they find themself still at their post now, more than three centuries later. 300 years of doing the same thing, day-in day-out, is almost enough to make them want to let everything go… but they’ve been holding on, for some reason. Maybe one of these days they’ll find out what it is…//
A ghostly human with fair skin, brown hair and hazel eyes. Demisexual panromantic (allo and ace relationship options available).
''Hwang Namsun'' (they/them) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 2. //The High Judicar of Nabhuti has a lot of duties to tend to, and though it hasn’t often been a high priority, with everything that has happened Namsun now finds ‘save the entire world’ jumping right to the top of their to-do list. Guarded by their amur leopard soul-familiar, they plan to find out what’s going on and put everything back in order. What lengths will they go to in order to try and save their goddess… and will it be too far?//
An ochre-skinned lamerran with long brown hair and dark brown eyes. Pansexual (allo and ace relationship options available).
''Ia'' (they/them) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 2. //One doesn’t often find wealthy socialites on the front lines of trying to stop the apocalypse. Ia would argue that absolutely nothing about them is ‘usual,’ so why should this be any different? Can’t have a good party while the world’s end is going on outside, can you? Whatever their reasons, they’re willing to help, and they’re certainly handy with a sword (or four). But something tells you that they’re not quite as unflappable as they’re putting on…//
A brown-skinned thym’ani with brown-black hair and golden-brown eyes. Bisexual (allo, ace and open relationship options available).
''Kebisa Malindile'' (she/her) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 2. //Good healers aren’t exactly in short supply in the ranks of the Spectral Court, but Kebisa was always one of the best. Her magical abilities pushed the boundaries of medical knowledge beyond what people thought was possible, but she’s a teacher and a surgeon, not a fighter. When the crisis unfolded, she went to seek help - and wound up finding the MC. Perhaps, if you’re lucky, she’ll find a little more than just aid and support.//
A black-skinned human with black natural afro hair and brown eyes. Bisexual (allo and ace relationship options available).
''Luminita Damaschin'' (she/her) - APPEARING LATER IN THE GAME. //Luminita served as Chief of Security to the throne of the Wolven Empire for many years, beating out all her competition - literally. When the Emperor became indisposed and his sister began undoing his many good works, Luminita turned rebel, and eventually the discoveries that she made will lead her to the MC. Whether she shares those discoveries or not is largely up to you… just beware her bite. It’s nasty.//
A fair-skinned wolven with blonde hair and dark blue eyes. Bisexual aromantic (FWB (no romance) and open relationship options available).
''Our Lady'' (she/her) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 1. //There’s something a little bit strange about her, though it’s hard to tell exactly what. Maybe it’s her glowing eyes, or maybe it’s the way she feels a bit like solid rock to touch, or maybe it’s her intimate-seeming knowledge on the subject of terrible sacrificial rituals. Whatever it is, she is very probably the MC’s best chance of finding a way home, so you’re going to have to work with her. Getting answers, though? That’s another story altogether.//
A brown-skinned… human?… with long black hair and luminescent golden eyes. Asexual biromantic (ace relationship option only available).
''Soillere Dujardin'' (he/him) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 1. //Sailing on the open seas is all that Soillere has ever wanted to do with his life. Granted, the Black River isn’t exactly like the ocean, but he’s had 350 years’ worth of doing what he loves, and it’s never been as hard to him as it has been for some of the others. He cares deeply about his fellow crewmembers, but he feels them being pulled in their own directions gradually. Someday, perhaps, someone will want to join him on his journey…//
A ghostly human with black skin, thickly-curled black hair, and brown eyes. Aroace (QPR relationship option only available).
''Tehemia Wawatai'' (they/them) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 1. //Coming from the rugged southern islands, you would expect Tehemia to be tough. Serving the Gatherers in a place like that, you would expect them to be even moreso. But they still manage to blow all expectations out of the water - Tehemia is as sturdy as the mountains, and about as emotionally open as them, too. Can MC help them open up a bit as they deal with the world falling apart together, or will they close off for good?//
A fawn-skinned human with curly black hair and light brown eyes. Bisexual demiromantic (allo, FWB (no romance) and open relationship options available).
''Vanator'' (he/him) - PRESENT FROM CHAPTER 1. //It takes a lot to be considered an enigma on a ship practically full of them, but Vanator manages to make it look easy. He won’t say who he is, where he comes from, how he ended up where he is, what he’s planning to do, or where he’s planning to go next. All you know is that he’s on your side for now… and sometimes things are that drastic that that’s all you need. But what if, just maybe, his secrets were more connected than even he thought?//
A brown-skinned human? with black hair and dark brown eyes. Bisexual (allo and ace relationship options available).
There are also four hidden Relationship Options with a slightly different structure for each of their relationships’ development… perhaps you could see if you can find them all!<</message>>
Faith is a major and important theme of The Black River, and one of the major driving points of the plot involves the PC being a part of a church worshipping one of the gods. If any aspect of discussion about faith, devotion, religion or worship will make you feel uncomfortable, I advise you to put your own needs first and reconsider whether playing the game will be a good choice for you. None of the gods are directly based on any existing deities from the real world, and there’s no concept of religious intolerance in the world of the game, but it may still feel uncomfortable for some people who have suffered trauma related to faith or religious institutions.
Additionally, the game is rated 18+ since it will eventually include adult content, most notably explicit sex scenes. These will be able to be skipped with fade-to-black options or merely not engaged with if they make anyone feel uncomfortable - none will be mandatory!
In light of these things, please, remember to play with your mental health in mind!
On that note, would you like to see a detailed list of trigger warnings?
[[Yes, please.|twlist]]
[[No, thank you, I don’t need to see them.|toggles]]This list will be updated as more of the story is written. Please check back when updates occur.
- //Alcohol/alcohol mention// (the pc does not consume or have the choice to consume alcohol in the current game build, but other characters do)
- //Amnesia/loss of memory//
- //Biting/using teeth as a weapon// (concerning wolven “werewolf” forms; can be avoided by picking other race options)
- //Blood and gore//
- //Body horror// (concerning transformations into wolven “werewolf” forms and the Shaper class’s combat abilities; can be avoided by picking other race or class options)
- //Bombs/explosives// (fantasy depictions)
- //Cults/cultlike behaviour// (the villains are cultists and another cult is mentioned in one scene; the pc does not (and will not) join or have the choice to join a cult in the game, or be targeted by the cult for recruitment)
- //Death//
- //Depictions of death and dead bodies//
- //Depictions of an afterlife// (fantasy version of an afterlife; the pc visits while still alive, rather than via dying)
- //Disordered eating and related conditions// (mention of malnutrition, being underweight (a character, not the pc); no specific allusions to disordered eating; the pc misses out on one particular meal in chapter 1 due to being extremely tired and everything being in shambles but it won’t be a running theme)
- //Dogs// (a lamerran pc who worships Osnach and chooses the ranged fighter class will have a dog as a soul-familiar; this can be avoided by choosing any combination of race, faction and class other than this specific one; also the wolven race are werewolves, which may be too close to dogs for some people’s comfort)
- //Drowning// (offscreen, mention)
- //Drug mention// (anaesthetic in a medical context, no recreational drug mentions)
- //Falling//
- //Fantasy racism//
- //Fire/flames, death involving fire//
- //Ghosts/spirits/the dead// (several key characters are already dead and described as appearing incorporeal)
- //Graphic depictions of violence//
- //Guns, gun violence//
- //Loss of control of self// (changes based on the pc’s choices; a pc under extremely high emotional stress (as indicated by a high Turmoil stat) may lose the ability to control their actions and the player’s choices may not be enacted; can be avoided by not picking choices that raise the Turmoil stat (there is an option to display the stat changes certain choices will make coming up on the next page))
- //Organised religious institutions, discussion of faith// (fantasy religions, no religious intolerance)
- //Political violence mention// (offscreen, involving fantasy politics, not real world issues)
- //Unreality triggers// (fantasy setting, receiving telepathic messages from an unknown source, receiving messages from deities via mental connection and sometimes vague hunches/feelings, flashback sequences, magic use, brief confusion as to whether the pc is alive or dead, communicating with the dead, prophetic dreams)
Please remember to play with your mental health in mind. By nature of its setting, The Black River deals with some confronting themes and dark imagery and occurrences.
In addition, please feel free to contact me if there’s something that you would like me to add trigger warnings for!
Your mental health is important… please take care of yourself!
[[Continue|toggles]]Just a few more housekeeping matters before we get to the game!
Some choice options are characterised as flirt options, that signify your interest in a relationship with a specific character. Others are specifically romantic in nature, for characters who experience romantic and sexual attraction separately, which may not appeal to certain players. Would you like these choices to be labelled (like this: [//flirt//]; [//romo//])?
<<checkbox "$flirt" "" "[//flirt//]">> Yes, please label flirt options for me.
<<checkbox "$romo" "" "[//romo//]">> Yes, please label romantic flirt options for me.
Some choice options add or subtract from certain stats, while other choices require a certain level in particular stats in order to succeed, and choosing them can result in different outcomes based on whether you have the appropriate stats or not. Yet other choices may be rendered unselectable by not having the appropriate stats or other traits (such as race) to choose them. Would you like any of these choices to be labelled or explained (like this: [//+2 to Honesty//]; [//You have enough Faith to succeed at this skillcheck.//]; @@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option because you are not a thym’ani.@@)?
<<checkbox "$statlabel" false true>> Yes, please label options that affect my stats for me.
<<checkbox "$skillcheckexplain" false true>> Yes, please label skillchecks and let me know whether I can succeed at them or not.
<<checkbox "$unselectableexplain" false true>> Yes, please explain why some choices are unselectable for me.
Would you like the narrative to be presented in a way that takes into account touch-aversion (there will be choices that can be made to reflect this in the game as well, but selecting it here will mark your character as touch-averse from the start)?
<<checkbox "$touchaverse" false true>> Yes, please consider my character touch-averse.
And finally, would you like to see a warning before any scenes that may contain things that are particularly triggering, with options as to how to proceed (ie. summarising the scene instead of reading it, skipping it entirely)?
<<checkbox "$ingametw" false true>> Yes, please show me warnings before scenes with particularly triggering material.
[[Okay, then we’re ready to get started!|prlgtc]]The voice brushes across your mind like a whispering breath, the faintest touch of a feather, but even that feels like too much. Pain floods through you, an unimaginable agony that seems to strip you bare and tear pieces off you, ripping parts of you away and stealing them. What’s left of you is raw and shuddering, slowly sinking into some viscous fluid that washes over you, lapping at your limbs.
Is it blood? It doesn’t feel like water…
You don’t want to sink.
//ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS WAKE UP.//
You open your eyes. For a second they stare at something impossible, something that isn’t there; gargantuan shadowy figures loom over you, hands attentively signalling you like the conductor of an orchestra. Somehow you get the feeling that there’s something you’re supposed to be doing…
And then you wake up. The sudden influx of light slams into your brain like a particularly belligerently-swung mallet, and you screw your eyes shut again.
What… what are you doing here? You groan as you raise a hand to your face, trying to remember how you got here… but your brain comes up with nothing. It’s as though there’s just… a hole, where the memories should be.
That sets alarm bells ringing in your head, but you force yourself to remain calm. Maybe it’s a concussion? Your body certainly feels as though it’s taken a beating. You take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes again, knowing that you should be gentle with a concussion patient-
Wait… //how// do you know that? You can’t seem to remember. But how can you know something that you can’t remember?
[[What’s going on?|ch102]]<<set $codex117 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Annos<</notify>>\
“Are you comfortable telling me your name now?” you ask him, and he sighs, seeming resigned.
“Annos… I’m Annos. Sorry I didn’t mention it before.”
You make a noncommittal noise, understanding why he withheld it. If you’d woken up with a stomach wound in an unfamiliar place next to a stranger, you couldn’t say whether or not you’d have acted the same. It //is// good to move past it, though.
“Is there anything that you can remember about what happened?” you ask him<<if $annos >= 25>>, though you feel a bit pushy asking him right after he’s just woken up<<endif>>. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but… we’re all in the dark unless someone remembers something.”
He screws his eyes shut for a moment, pain still written plainly on his face. “I remember… um, snippets? Some faces, a flash of light. I think there was a party?”
“A party?” you press, perking up.
“Yeah… after the election. I remember everyone getting really drunk toasting the new queen.”
“The queen - of Thym’an?” you ask, just to be sure, and when he nods you lean back on your stool, thinking furiously.
Thym’an has an elected monarchy, meaning that they choose a new ruler after the previous one dies. You have to admit that you don’t follow thym’ani politics all that closely; it doesn’t often affect you, certainly not compared to how much effort you need to put into following politics in the Wolven Empire.
“This could be a really useful piece of information,” you tell him, seriously, but he just sighs, rubbing at his temples with two of his hands.
“I don’t know what to think right now. Everything in my head is either foggy or feels too sharp to handle. I hadn’t ever imagined that amnesia would hurt so badly.”
You hum <<if $annos >= 25>>sympathetically<<else>>politely<<endif>> in response, thinking that you understand exactly how he feels.
“Would you like me to fetch the captain for you?” you ask him, interrupting the silence that had developed between you. “Or the doctor, for that matter?”
He thinks it over for a second, and then makes a face. “Not yet, if you don’t mind. I want to pretend there’s not a hundred other things that I have to confront for a little while longer.”
<<if $annos >= 25>>[[Even though it’s probably not the best time… you can’t help noticing how good he looks in profile.|ch1a105a][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your relationship with Annos is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<if $annos >= 25>>[[He sure is taking this all in stride, given the circumstances. You’re impressed…|ch1a105b][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your relationship with Annos is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<if $annos >= 25>>[[“I’m glad you woke up and are adjusting okay. Some of the others were worried about you, so I’m relieved you’re doing as well as you are.”|ch1a105c][$annos += 2, $decency += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your relationship with Annos is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
[[“There’s a lot of people you’ll need to meet sooner or later, so I can sympathise. I don’t even think I’ve met them all yet.”|ch1a105d]]
[[“You won’t be able to make everything go away by pretending. You might as well face up to it now, because we don’t have time to wait for you to join us when you feel like it.”|ch1a105e][$annosharden += 1, $annos -= 2, decency -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Annos, +1 Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>
<<if $annos < 25>>[[“I wanted to say… sorry, for before. I’m not dealing the best with everything going on right now, but I shouldn’t have been so cold to you.”|ch1a105f][$annos += 2, $decency += 1, $annosharden -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Annos, -1 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>><<endif>>He hesitates momentarily, looking conflicted, but nods at you in the end. He gingerly raises himself up onto his elbows, teeth gritted against the pain, and then grunts in displeasure as he sits the rest of the way up.<<if $race neq "thym’ani">> Perhaps due to his escapades earlier, h<<else>> H<<endif>>e definitely doesn’t look like he’s going to be able to manage walking on his own.
<<if $touchaverse eq true>>
You don’t ordinarily like touching people if you can avoid it, but given his condition, it would be callous in the extreme not to offer him at least a little help. Besides, it’s true that it’s not far to the deck, where one of the crew or the captain can probably come and help him instead. You can bear it for long enough to get him some assistance.
<<endif>>
You hold out a hand to help him stand, and he looks at it for a few seconds, seemingly weighing something in his head, before eventually taking it. He has to lean heavily against you to even remain upright, and his breathing immediately starts to come in ragged, heaving gasps. You wait there for a second, allowing him to catch his breath, and silently wonder if you’ll even make it out to the deck at all.
<<if $annosharden >= 14>><<if ($annosflirt eq 1) and ($touchaverse eq false)>>
Just as you’re about to suggest that maybe this was a bad idea, he heaves a sigh, looking embarrassed for some reason.
“Can I-?” he begins, lifting up his top left arm, the one that’s closest to you, as if to sling it around your shoulders.
“Go ahead,” you tell him, realising that he probably needs the higher point of leverage to try and help keep his torso straightened out a bit as you walk.
He really doesn’t weigh nearly as much as he looks like he should; you find yourself wondering if he might be malnourished, on top of everything else. He’s also //extremely// warm, the heat of his skin bleeding right through your clothes as you help him out the door.
“Still good?” you ask him, once you’re outside, but he only responds with a non-committal hum.
<<else>>
Just as you’re about to suggest that maybe this was a bad idea, he somehow manages to pull himself upright on his own, though his jaw is clenched fiercely and you can clearly see that it’s hurting him.
“Are you-?” you begin, making sure your arm is within his reach in case he needs to grab it suddenly, but he holds up a hand to stop you.
“I’m all right,” he says, and although it’s through gritted teeth, you can tell that he mostly means it sincerely.
He’s tough, you’ll give him that.
“Just don’t walk too fast, please,” he adds after a second, which is fair enough.
You open the door and wait for him to leave the room, staying close enough nearby to be able to catch him if he falls over but still giving him some space.
<<endif>><<else>><<if ($annosflirt eq 1) and ($touchaverse eq false)>>
“Just give me a second,” he manages to say, his voice hoarse. “Can I-?”
He lifts up his top left arm, the one closest to you, making as though to sling it around your shoulders.
“Go ahead,” you tell him, realising that he probably needs the higher point of leverage to try and help keep his torso straightened out a bit as you walk.
He really doesn’t weigh nearly as much as he looks like he should; you find yourself wondering if he might be malnourished, on top of everything else. He’s also //extremely// warm, the heat of his skin bleeding right through your clothes as you help him out the door.
“We should get you to the doctor,” you say softly, concerned that this was a bad idea.
He meets your gaze for a second, sea-green eyes dull from pain. “I need to understand what you’re talking about first.”
<<else>>
“I have some regrets,” he groans, wrapping a few of his arms around himself, but he takes a few shaky steps forward with your help.
“I almost feel like I shouldn’t have suggested this,” you say, half-carrying him over to the door.
He tries to wave a hand dismissively, but the pain on his face somewhat undermines the effect. “I need to see what you’re talking about, to understand. It’ll bother me constantly until I do.”
He groans again as the two of you inch your way through the door sideways, but he at least seems steadier on his feet now.
“With any luck, we’ll run into the doctor,” you tell him, and he manages a short, breathless laugh.
“Sounds heavenly.”
<<endif>><<endif>><<if visited ("ch123") > 0>>
The two of you slowly, //painstakingly// make your way out onto the deck, with every step making you feel more and more like it was a bad idea. At the same time, however, you can understand his reasoning for insisting that he has to see for himself; would you have believed any of the things that you’ve had to accept as fact today, if you hadn’t witnessed them personally?
He already seems confused by the time you make it outside - puzzled by the antiquity of the ship, if you had to guess - and it fills you with a sudden regret to have to direct his attention to the hole in the sky, now somewhat behind you.
[[Every time you look at it, it feels more unnerving…|ch1a203]]
<<else>>
Without warning, a terrible sound suddenly erupts somewhere above you, loud enough to shake the corridor that you’re walking through. It sounds something like a cross between a thunderclap and an enormous piece of paper being torn in half.
From what you can tell, the source of the noise is some distance away, but that only makes how loud it is even more worrying. Immediately after the initial horrible sound ends, you begin to hear other noises as well; people shouting somewhere outside on the deck, and many muffled pairs of feet hurrying in various different directions.
“What was that?” Annos demands, all of his eyes wide, but you can only shake your head hopelessly, just as in the dark as him.
“Let’s find out,” you manage to say, motioning that you should continue.
[[Hopefully things haven’t somehow gotten worse…|ch123]]<<endif>>You’re just about ready to give up by the time the two of you have made it to the prow, and you can’t help but groan when Bettina starts making her way up a small set of stairs ahead of you.
She stops short at the sound, looking you over with a grin, and seems to take pity on you. “Don’t worry. He’s around here somewhere.”
She brings her fingers to her lips and lets loose an ear-splitting whistle, the shrill sound probably carrying easily the whole length of the //Wisp//.
“Oi! Vanator!”
You don’t think you’ve ever heard a noise quite as disgruntled as the one that comes from the forecastle in response to her yell. Someone - Vanator, presumably - steps out from behind the foremast, giving the captain a look that could probably curdle milk, which is quite impressive considering that the lower half of his face is hidden by overlapping strips of black cloth.
He’s tall, taller even than her, but wiry and athletic, with what you recognise as a fencer’s build; lean torso, decently strong arms, and muscular thighs. You’re not sure whether or not you should be concerned by the fact that you somehow have a level of knowledge that allows you to assess that kind of thing about people, but you suppose at least you remember how to use it, even if you don’t know why.
There’s not much of his face that you can see behind the cloth mask, but his cool brown skin definitely doesn’t have the colourless pallor that marks Soillere and the captain as being dead. He has a prominent brow with thick eyebrows, and small, deep-set eyes - they’re currently narrowed and glaring at the captain, so dark a brown as to almost be considered black. His thick black hair is loose, chin-length and straight, and all of his clothing is black, too.
You get the impression of a man who wants to look like a shadow more than that of someone who wants to hide in them.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, captain, but I don’t generally answer to whistles like a dog,” he grates, folding his arms.
She just smirks at him and places her hands on her hips, obviously not intimidated. “And yet, here you are.”
There’s what sounds like a snarl from under his mask.
[[‘Clashing personalities’ barely seems like an adequate description for these two…|ch1v101b]]<<set $codex119 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Vanator<</notify>>\
The captain smiles sweetly at him, spreading her arms in a blatantly feigned gesture of conciliation. “Hey, don’t get too worked up. I’m not sticking around. Unlike some people, I have work to do.”
You can’t tell if the jibe is directed at you or Vanator… or maybe both of you. You’re also not entirely sure what work she’s talking about, unless she means polishing off the rest of that liquor.
Heedless of your thoughts, the captain waves a hand in your direction with a flourish, as though Vanator might somehow have missed you standing there. “$pcname here is the latest of our new visitors to wake up, joining us from $nation. You living folks should probably stick together, wouldn’t you say?”
<<if $race eq "wolven">>
He doesn’t unfold his arms, continuing to glare at her. “I’m not a babysitter.”
She snorts, greatly amused, and turns away to leave. “Good thing <<print $xhe3>>$verb_re3 not a baby, then.”
His angry stare follows her as she leaves, and then settles finally on you. The look he gives you isn’t as openly contemptuous as the one he was giving her, but he definitely still doesn’t seem all that happy about your presence.
“Pleased to meet you,” you say, politely. “I’m $pcname, like she said. I use<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns.”
“You’re wolven?” he asks flatly, looking you up and down.
“That a problem?” you respond, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t have an accent,” he replies after a few seconds, ignoring your question, and you shrug.
“I’ve been away from home for quite some time.”
For whatever reason, he seems to fidget for a few seconds, fists clenching against his heavy leather duster jacket, like he’s wrestling with some decision. Eventually, he just nods.
“Call me Vanator,” he says, sounding a little less hostile - though just a little. “He/him pronouns.”
<<else>>
He sighs loudly, sounding extremely long-suffering. “Is this your idea of a joke, captain?”
She laughs at him, seeming delighted by the question. “Of course not! <<print $xhe3.toUpperFirst()>> actually //wanted// to meet you, though I couldn’t guess at why.”
You clear your throat pointedly, hoping to interrupt their argument, and he gives you a surprisingly grateful look. The captain just grins at you, and turns away to leave.
“Play nice, kids.”
You can practically hear Vanator rolling his eyes as she walks away. “Whatever she’s told you about me, you might want to take it with a grain of salt.”
“Actually, she didn’t say anything,” you reply, slightly amused. “I just happened to see you around earlier, and thought I should meet everyone else who’s alive while I’m up and walking. I’m $pcname, like she said. I use<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns.”
He hesitates for a second before nodding. “I did notice you’d woken up, but Soillere found you so I figured you were in good hands. I’m Vanator… he/him pronouns.”
<<endif>>
Silence falls between you for a few moments.
“Was there something you wanted?” he asks, and to his credit he sounds like he’s realised that it’s gotten awkward.
“Well, I was sort of hoping you could tell me a bit about the Underworld,” you tell him honestly, and he barks a short laugh.
“I doubt I know much more than you. Anything in particular you wanted to ask?”
[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
[[“What’s the deal with you and the captain? Do the crew not like you?”|ch1v102d]]
[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]“Gods…”
The look on his face just about matches what you think yours must have looked like when you first saw it.
He looks around off the bow as well, observing the strange landscape, the strange twisted statues and bare white trees, and it really drives home for you just how impossible everything that’s happened truly is. Seeing it through your own eyes, you could try and convince yourself that there was some reasonable explanation, but trying to explain it to someone else…
There //is// no reasonable way to talk him through it. And you haven’t even gotten to the part about peoples’ souls being sucked up into the living world yet.
Annos makes a soft noise suddenly, raising two of his hands to his head, and you get the distinct impression that his body isn’t very happy with him. You tighten your grip on him<<if $touchaverse eq true>> against your better judgement<<endif>>, worried that he’s going to faint.
“Who-?” a voice asks, from the level above you, as you help him over towards a nearby barrel, and you look up to see the captain glaring at you.
Both her hat and her thick naval jacket are missing, revealing a midnight-blue waistcoat and white shirtsleeves underneath.
“What were you thinking, bringing them out here?” she demands, stomping down the stairs towards you. “They must have only just woken up and you’re taking them for walks?”
You bristle slightly, trying to stand your ground. “He needed to see for himself! How else could he possibly believe all this?”
She makes an irritated tutting noise, holding out an arm towards him to help him up. “You won’t do him any good getting him hurt. And you should be sleeping, too, frankly!”
It’s admittedly difficult to argue with her on that point.
“Go and get Soillere to find you a room,” she orders, giving you a look that brooks no argument. “I’ll take him back to the surgery, and we can discuss all this shit tomorrow, once everyone’s in less danger of keeling over dead where they stand.”
[[Annos seems happy enough to go with her, and rest does sound pretty good right about now…|ch128]]J.A. FitzjamesForget everything else, it’s become abundantly clear that staying in the Underworld is a //bad// idea. Getting out of here is your //only// goal.
Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind you, and you swing around only to watch in horror as one of the dead crewmen behind you is lifted off the deck and into the air, arms flailing wildly as they attempt to grab on to the mast. The rest of the crew immediately begins to panic; some of them try to get belowdecks, while others fumble for ropes, perhaps to try and tie themselves down.
You can still hear the crewman that was sucked away screaming for help distantly over the din.
“All hands!” the captain’s voice rings out, cutting through the hysteria - though you notice that she also looks wild-eyed and scared. “Weigh anchor! Loose the sails and run her about! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
You’re almost swept away by the instant tide of movement that erupts around you, the crewmen all hurrying off in different directions, obviously heading towards their various duties. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“Stay here,” you tell Annos, who just groans and leans back against the stair rail behind him, seemingly not needing to be told twice.
<<endif>>
You force yourself to climb up the staircase, ignoring every painful twinge in your chest, and head after the captain, hoping to catch her before she can make her way any further astern (and up any more damned stairs). Luckily, it seems like<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> has gotten to her in time to keep her from hurrying off; unluckily, however, it also seems like they’re in the middle of some kind of vicious argument.
“We //can’t// leave,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>> is saying, as you approach the two of them, just in time to hear the captain growl in response.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed what’s going on with us lowly dead folk, but members of my crew are being //sucked into the sky//!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> folds their arms stubbornly across their chest. “So? The souls are being taken from random places, not just here. You don’t know that leaving will be any safer!”
“Well staying nearby can’t //help//!” the captain snarls, jabbing a finger in their direction. “We don’t know how the souls are being chosen… what’s going to happen if it sucks the spirit right out of one of you? Or - gods forbid - Our Lady? What do we do then, eh?”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The survivor<<endif>> doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.
“If you don’t have answers, then I suggest you either help, or get out of my sight,” the captain finishes, coldly, before storming away.
[[You have to admit, she has a point. You’d rather not have your soul sucked out if you can help it.|ch125]]<div id="interface">
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</div><<nobr>><h1>The Black River</h1>
<h2>by J.A. Fitzjames</h2><<endnobr>><<link "Character" "character">><</link>> | <<link "Achievements" "achievements">><</link>> | <<link "Codex" "codex">><</link>> | <<link "Saves">><<run UI.saves()>><</link>> | <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings()>><</link>> | <<link "Back">><<run Engine.backward()>><</link>> | <<link "Restart">><<run UI.restart()>><</link>><div id="profile-page">
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<!-- hi jess <3 to add in the actual achievements, go to the passages called aStory/aRel/aPersonal and write them there, don't touch this passage :chinhands: --><script>var passages = document.getElementById("passages");
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/* Personal */
<<widget "flirt">>
<<if settings.flirt>> [//flirt//]<</if>>
<</widget>>
<<widget "romantic">>
<<if settings.romantic>> [//romo//]<</if>>
<</widget>>
<<widget "tw">>
<<if settings.tw>> [//Contains potentially triggering material.//]<</if>>
<</widget>>Whatever’s going on, it needs to be stopped. You can’t in good conscience walk away while something as heinous as this is happening; you can’t say why exactly, but you feel compelled to help.
Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind you, and you swing around only to watch in horror as one of the dead crewmen behind you is lifted off the deck and into the air, arms flailing wildly as they attempt to grab on to the mast. The rest of the crew immediately begins to panic; some of them try to get belowdecks, while others fumble for ropes, perhaps to try and tie themselves down.
You can still hear the crewman that was sucked away screaming for help distantly over the din.
“All hands!” the captain’s voice rings out, cutting through the hysteria - though you notice that she also looks wild-eyed and scared. “Weigh anchor! Loose the sails and run her about! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
You’re almost swept away by the instant tide of movement that erupts around you, the crewmen all hurrying off in different directions, obviously heading towards their various duties. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“Stay here,” you tell Annos, who just groans and leans back against the stair rail behind him, seemingly not needing to be told twice.
<<endif>>
You force yourself to climb up the staircase, ignoring every painful twinge in your chest, and head after the captain, hoping to catch her before she can make her way any further astern (and up any more damned stairs). Luckily, it seems like<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> has gotten to her in time to keep her from hurrying off; unluckily, however, it also seems like they’re in the middle of some kind of vicious argument.
“We //can’t// leave,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>> is saying, as you approach the two of them, just in time to hear the captain growl in response.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed what’s going on with us lowly dead folk, but members of my crew are being //sucked into the sky//!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> folds their arms stubbornly across their chest. “So? The souls are being taken from random places, not just here. You don’t know that leaving will be any safer!”
“Well staying nearby can’t //help//!” the captain snarls, jabbing a finger in their direction. “We don’t know how the souls are being chosen… what’s going to happen if it sucks the spirit right out of one of you? Or - gods forbid - Our Lady? What do we do then, eh?”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The survivor<<endif>> doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.
“If you don’t have answers, then I suggest you either help, or get out of my sight,” the captain finishes, coldly, before storming away.
[[You have to admit, she has a point. You’d rather not have your soul sucked out if you can help it.|ch125]]No doubt somebody will have to deal with this - but that somebody isn’t going to be you. You’ve got to worry about saving your own skin first and foremost.
Suddenly, there’s a scream from behind you, and you swing around only to watch in horror as one of the dead crewmen behind you is lifted off the deck and into the air, arms flailing wildly as they attempt to grab on to the mast. The rest of the crew immediately begins to panic; some of them try to get belowdecks, while others fumble for ropes, perhaps to try and tie themselves down.
You can still hear the crewman that was sucked away screaming for help distantly over the din.
“All hands!” the captain’s voice rings out, cutting through the hysteria - though you notice that she also looks wild-eyed and scared. “Weigh anchor! Loose the sails and run her about! We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
You’re almost swept away by the instant tide of movement that erupts around you, the crewmen all hurrying off in different directions, obviously heading towards their various duties. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>
“Stay here,” you tell Annos, who just groans and leans back against the stair rail behind him, seemingly not needing to be told twice.
<<endif>>
You force yourself to climb up the staircase, ignoring every painful twinge in your chest, and head after the captain, hoping to catch her before she can make her way any further astern (and up any more damned stairs). Luckily, it seems like<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> has gotten to her in time to keep her from hurrying off; unluckily, however, it also seems like they’re in the middle of some kind of vicious argument.
“We //can’t// leave,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>> is saying, as you approach the two of them, just in time to hear the captain growl in response.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed what’s going on with us lowly dead folk, but members of my crew are being //sucked into the sky//!”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The other survivor<<endif>> folds their arms stubbornly across their chest. “So? The souls are being taken from random places, not just here. You don’t know that leaving will be any safer!”
“Well staying nearby can’t //help//!” the captain snarls, jabbing a finger in their direction. “We don’t know how the souls are being chosen… what’s going to happen if it sucks the spirit right out of one of you? Or - gods forbid - Our Lady? What do we do then, eh?”
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>The survivor<<endif>> doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.
“If you don’t have answers, then I suggest you either help, or get out of my sight,” the captain finishes, coldly, before storming away.
[[You have to admit, she has a point. You’d rather not have your soul sucked out if you can help it.|ch125]]__Yoink!__ - stole from your enemy in your first encounter with them.
__Into the West__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__The Great Van Helsing__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__Neo__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__That Still Only Counts as One__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__Take Back Earth__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
/* the achievements haven't been coded because it's not possible to achieve any of them yet <3 */<<if $race eq "human">>__Silver-Tongued__ - successfully talk your way out of a bad situation.<<elseif $race eq "lamerran">>__We Move as One__ - coordinate with your soul-familiar to take down an enemy.<<elseif $race eq "thym’ani">>__The More the Merrier__ - successfully wield more than two weapons at once.<<elseif $race eq "wolven">>__Unleash the Beast__ - assume your wolf form - whether voluntarily or not.
<<endif>>\
__Excommunicated__ - lost support from your deity, and thereby lost your powers.
__The Best There Is at What I Do__ - successfully perform a class-specific Feat of Strength.
<<if $class eq "darkcaller">>__The Void Beckons__ - successfully perform every Darkcaller’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "dreadnought">>__On A Pale Horse__ - successfully perform every Dreadnought’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "hallowguard">>__Like Chaff Before the Wind__ - successfully perform every Hallowguard’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "hunter">>__Bleed, You Filth!__ - successfully perform every Hunter’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "knight">>__Liquid Metal__ - successfully perform every Knight’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "lancer">>__Spears Shall Be Shaken__ - successfully perform every Lancer’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "lightbringer">>__Light’s Wrath__ - successfully perform every Lightbringer’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "marksman">>__One Less to Worry About__ - successfully perform every Marksman’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "mindbender">>__Sorcerer Supreme__ - successfully perform every Mindbender’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "sentry">>__Why Don’t You Sit This One Out?__ - successfully perform every Sentry’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "shaper">>__Vicissitude__ - successfully perform every Shaper’s Feat of Strength.<<elseif $class eq "vanguard">>__Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, and Dodge__ - successfully perform every Vanguard’s Feat of Strength.
<<endif>>\
__Smash!__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
/* the achievements haven't been coded because it's not possible to achieve any of them yet <3 */__Till the End of the Line__ - reach a close friendship level with Annos.
__Physician, Heal Thyself__ - reach a close friendship level with Barthelemy.
__Oh Captain, My Captain__ - reach a close friendship level with Bettina.
__I’ll Be Fighting by Your Side__ - reach a close friendship level with Dassine.
__You’d Better Remember to Duck__ - reach the maximum possible friendship level with Enarra.
__Comrades-in-Arms__ - reach a close friendship level with Gervaise.
__Name a More Iconic Duo__ - reach a close friendship level with Ia.
__The Doctor’s Companion__ - reach a close friendship level with Kebisa.
__The Pack Survives__ - reach a close friendship level with Luminita.
__I Can’t Carry it For You__ - reach a close friendship level with Namsun.
__We Who Remain__ - reach a close friendship level with Our Lady.
__First and Second Officer__ - reach a close friendship level with Soillere.
__Standing Side-by-Side__ - reach a close friendship level with Tehemia.
__Don’t You Let Go__ - reach a close friendship level with Vanator.
__Some of My Best Friends Start Out Trying to Kill Me__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__Walk With the Gods__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__The Question is the Answer__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__Titans Together!__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__Inner Circle__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
__We Had Some Good Times on that Ship__ @@.hidden;- this achievement’s conditions are hidden.@@
/* the achievements haven't been coded because it's not possible to achieve any of them yet <3 */<<if visited ("prlg01") eq 0>>@@.hidden;Information about your character and their relationships with other characters will be presented here as you progress through the game.@@<<elseif visited ("ch101") eq 0>>What a night for a patrol… hopefully this weather won’t last too long.<<elseif visited ("ch113") eq 0>>I don’t understand… how did I get here? This can’t be happening…<<else>>My name is $pcname (<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>>any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>>she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>>he/they<<else>><<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns), and I don’t remember how I got here. I’m writing this message in case something happens to me, so that there’s some kind of record.
<<if visited ("ch119") > 0>>
I’m a $race,<<if $faction eq "faction">> and I don’t remember what I do for a living<<else>> and I used to serve the $faction<<endif>><<if $class eq "class">>.<<else>> as a $class, specialising in<<if $role eq "melee">> melee combat<<elseif $role eq "ranged">> ranged combat<<else>> magic<<endif>> and<<if $fightstyle eq "tank">> protecting my allies<<elseif $fightstyle eq "assault">> quick, brutal attacks<<elseif $fightstyle eq "ambush">> surprise attacks<<elseif $fightstyle eq "exploit">> using the environment to my advantage<<elseif $fightstyle eq "support">> aiding my allies<<else>> controlling the flow of battle<<endif>>, before I lost my memories.<<endif>><<if $race eq "lamerran">><<if $class eq "class">> My soul-familiar is missing, just like my memory.<<else>> My soul-familiar is <<if ($class eq "shaper") or ($class eq "sentry")>>an $familiar<<else>>a $familiar<<endif>><<if $fname eq "none">>.<<else>>, named $fname.<<endif>><<endif>><<endif>>
<<endif>><<if $room neq "room">>
I’m currently sleeping<<if $room eq "surgery">> in the room by the surgery<<elseif $room eq "treasury">> in the room beside the treasury<<elseif $room eq "weapons">> in the room beside the weapons stores<<elseif $room eq "brig">> in the room down by the brig<<elseif $room eq "bunks">> on some bunks in the storage hold<<elseif $room eq "quarters">> in a hammock in the crew quarters<<elseif $room eq "galley">> in the room beside the galley<<elseif $room eq "nest">> in the crow’s nest<<elseif $room eq "bilge">> on a hammock down in the bilge<<else>> in the room beside the powder stores<<endif>> on board the //Will-o’-wisp//.
<<endif>>
I’ve only met a few people since coming to the Underworld; I’ll leave some details about each of them here as part of my record.
<<if (visited ("ch1a104a") > 0) or (visited ("ch1a104b") > 0)>>
__Annos__:
A thym’ani, from the underground capital Thym’an. He fell from the living world into the Underworld just like me, and he has amnesia the same as I do, too. <<if $race eq "thym’ani">>Quite a lot of amnesia, actually - the last thing he mentioned remembering is a celebration held just after Queen Damya’s election nearly six years ago. <<endif>>Luckily for me, I at least seem to have avoided the stabbings that he was subjected to.
<<if $annosflirt > 0>>I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t something kind of magnetic about him. <<endif>><<if $annos < 25>>I don’t think he and I will get along very well, though. He’s too soft, too fragile… but maybe he’ll become less frustrating once he’s healed. I suppose we’ll see.<<else>>He’s easy to spend time with, which is a blessing at a time like this. I’m hopeful that the two of us can help each other figure this all out and get out of here in one piece.<<endif>>
<<endif>>
__Bettina d’Arlesce (the Captain)__:
A dead human sailor, from the long-vanished nation of Autreme.
She seems a bit prickly, but I think she’s probably a good captain. Maybe she’ll warm up to me given some time… or once this whole mess is sorted out, if I’m still around by then.
<<if visited ("ch1v102d") > 0>>
__Gervaise__:
I haven’t met them yet, but Vanator mentioned them. He seems to think that they’re fairly beyond reproach.
<<elseif visited ("ch1c101") > 0>><<if (visited ("ch1c102c2") eq 0) and (visited ("ch1c102c3") eq 0)>>
__Gervaise__:
I haven’t met them yet, but the captain mentioned them. Apparently they like to move around the ship and sleep in different places every so often.<<endif>>
<<endif>>
__Our Lady__:
A mysterious, scholarly-seeming woman who has apparently been here in the Underworld for a while. <<if (visited ("ch1tol02") > 0) or (visited ("ch1ol101a") > 0)>> I’d hesitate to call her a human, since I don’t know of any other humans with luminescent eyes, but then again I don’t know of anything else with them, either.<<endif>>
<<if $ourladyflirt > 0>>She’s captivating in some ways… almost like she has her own kind of gravity that seems to pull me in. <<endif>><<if $ourlady < 25>>I’ve never met anyone so cold and stiff. She talks about terrible things without batting an eye… it’s truly infuriating.<<elseif $ourlady < 27>>I’ve never met anyone so calm, so serene. She talks about terrible things without batting an eye… I can’t imagine how she does it.<<else>>I’ve never met anyone so calm, so serene. She always leaves me with a million questions, but somehow in a way that makes everything feel just a bit less chaotic.<<endif>>
__Soillere Dujardin__:
A dead human sailor, from the long-vanished nation of Autreme. He’s a lot more approachable than the captain, though - which I suppose makes it lucky that he was the first person I ran into after waking up.
<<if $soillere < 25>>I don’t really agree with him about various issues regarding faith, though. Then again, I suppose we can leave that argument for later… if we even last long enough.<<else>>He’s friendly and personable, but I get the feeling he meets a lot of people who don’t respect his choices. I’m glad he’s around… he makes things feel almost normal.<<endif>>
<<if (visited ("ch1tol05") > 0) or (visited ("ch1t101a") > 0)>>
__Tehemia Wawatai__:
A human, from the southern islands. They also fell from the living world into the Underworld, the same as I did, and have some level of amnesia just like I do. <<if (visited ("ch1tol04") > 0) and (visited ("ch123") > 0)>>They woke up before me, despite seeming to have suffered a few wounds. <<endif>><<if (visited ("ch1tol06") > 0) or (visited ("ch1t101a") > 0)>>They serve the Gatherers, and seem quite devoted to Osnach, having a very strong sense of faith.<<endif>>
<<if $tehemiaflirt > 0>>Something about their easy confidence is //extremely// charming… and it would be a lie for me to say that I didn’t notice their physique. <<endif>><<if $tehemia < 25>>They’re a bit touchy about the subject of their childhood, so I guess that’s just a topic to avoid. They seem fairly reliable otherwise, though.<<else>>They’re very closed-off in some ways, not big on talking about feelings, but at least they seem to have a decent sense of humour.<<endif>><<if (visited ("ch1v102d") > 0) or (visited ("ch1tol3b4") > 0)>>
__The Doctor__:
I haven’t met him yet, but <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Our Lady<<else>>Vanator<<endif>> mentioned him. <<if visited ("ch1tol101") > 0>>She also said that he was part of the original crew of the //Wisp//.<<else>>Vanator also seems to think that he’s got a tongue that’s worth watching out for.<<endif>>
<<endif>><<if (visited ("ch1v101b") > 0) or (visited ("ch1v201a") > 0)>>
__Vanator__:
Like Our Lady, Vanator is something of a mystery. He’s also been in the Underworld for some time<<if visited ("ch1v102b") > 0>>, nearly eight months, apparently,<<endif>> but in a way that seems to be totally unrelated to what’s happened to me. He wears a black cloth mask to cover his face, <<if (visited ("ch126f1") > 0) and ($prs eq 8)>>which //might// be an attempt to hide wolven teeth? But I’m not totally sure about that, since he doesn’t seem to like talking about anything<<else>>but I have no idea why, and he doesn’t seem to like talking about anything, so I might not ever find out<<endif>>.
<<if $vanatorflirt > 0>>There’s something so intense about him, something that makes him very hard to turn away from. He’s difficult to read, but even more difficult to ignore. <<endif>><<if $vanator < 25>>He’s also incredibly stubborn and unhelpful, and gets snappish easily any time you ask him to go even slightly out of his way.<<else>>He’s also secretive and evasive, but occasionally, when he lets some of his barriers drop a little, he does have a slightly softer side.<<endif>> Whatever his reasons are for not telling me anything about himself, he seems //very// committed to them.
<<endif>>
<<endif>><<endif>><div class="stat-group">Force<br>
$frc
</div>
<div class="stat-group">Endurance<br>
$end
</div>
<div class="stat-group">Agility<br>
$agi
</div>
<div class="stat-group">Vigilance<br>
$vig
</div>
<div class="stat-group">Cunning<br>
$cun
</div>
<div class="stat-group">Presence<br>
$prs
</div>
<div class="stat-group bottom">Defence<br>
$defence
</div><div class="traits"><div class="trait-bar"></div>
<<= '<div class="chevron" style="width: ' + $decency + '%;"></div>' >>
Decency
<i>($decency%)</i></div>
<div class="traits"><div class="trait-bar"></div>
<<= '<div class="chevron" style="width: ' + $faith + '%;"></div>' >>
Faith
<i>($faith%)</i></div>
<div class="traits"><div class="trait-bar"></div>
<<= '<div class="chevron" style="width: ' + $honesty + '%;"></div>' >>
Honesty
<i>($honesty%)</i></div>
<div class="traits"><div class="trait-bar"></div>
<<= '<div class="chevron" style="width: ' + $turmoil + '%;"></div>' >>
Turmoil
<i>($turmoil%)</i></div>This first bit seems like it’ll be the trickiest part - there’s a not insignificant expanse of dead air between the piece of rigging that you’re clinging to and the crosstree itself. You move your body to the very edge of the rigging, secured only by<<if $race eq "thym’ani">> one pair of arms<<else>> one arm<<endif>> and one leg each, and take a deep, steadying breath.
You swing your free leg towards the crosstree, across the empty air. Mercifully, you manage to reach it, and once you have that foot planted firmly, you begin slowly transferring your weight until it’s balanced about halfway between each foot. Next, you reach out with your free<<if $race eq "thym’ani">> pair of arms<<else>> arm<<endif>> and grasp for the stabilising rope that runs perpendicular to the crosstree. It’s taut enough to hold your weight - although of course it would be, or otherwise what use would it be to the sailors? - and so all that remains is to haul yourself over.
Easy, right?
Your stomach lurches as you let go of the rigging and pull yourself fully onto the crosstree, clinging tightly to the handhold rope as you make sure your footing is steady. You bend down and untie the first of the ropes securing the sails, wondering if this actually gets any easier with practice.
Your make your way along the crosstree, undoing knots as you go, and by the time you reach the most distant one, you’re out over the river, staring at the black waters below as you untie the final rope. The feeling as the sails drop and then billow to catch the wind beneath you is indescribable; you clutch tightly at your safety rope as the wooden poles creak, but it feels more like the stiff stretching of someone just waking up than anything more disruptive.
You make your way back to the rigging carefully as the //Wisp// comes alive around you, air passing through her sails like breath moving through lungs.
Soillere grins amiably at you as you return to the mast, seemingly able to read some of what you’re feeling from the look on your face. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? And you seem like you’re going to turn out to be pretty useful, too.”
There’s a surprising amount of approval in his voice, so you figure that you must have done a decent job. Soillere doesn’t wait around for you to respond, though, instead shimmying quickly down the rigging - no doubt to go and see to some other important sailing task that you can’t even name.
[[You might as well follow him… there’s nothing left to do here, after all.|ch127]]You clamber up further to the next set of crosstrees; despite the now-staggering height, it’s comforting being closer to the mast, with all the ropes hanging off it that you can grab onto in a pinch if you need. The first rope you need to undo is within reach from the rigging, but the other will require you to climb out over the deck.
You take a deep breath, sling one elbow over a rope running perpendicular to the crosstree that seems to be there to help with balance, and plant one foot on the narrow pole. It holds your weight easily - of course it would, how else would the sailors manage this regularly? - so you try the other, and then all that’s left is to put them in front of each other and not look down if you can avoid it.
You hold your breath as you bend down to undo the knot, willing your feet not to wobble. The feeling as the sails drop and then billow to catch the wind beneath you is indescribable; you clutch tightly at your safety rope as the wooden poles creak and shudder, but it feels more like the stiff stretching of someone just waking up than anything more disruptive.
You swivel in place and then begin to make your way back to the rigging carefully as the //Wisp// comes alive around you, air passing through her sails like breath moving through lungs.
Some of what you’re feeling must be showing on your face, judging by the knowing look that Soillere gives you once you return to the mast.
“Welcome to the crew,” he tells you, grinning, and you sense at least some amount of approval in his words.
You’re not exactly sure how to respond, but luckily he’s already shimmying down the rigging, no doubt to go and see to some other important sailing task that you can’t even name.
You have to admit, putting your feet back on solid timber planks sounds pretty good right now, so you might as well follow him.
[[That actually went better than you had been expecting…|ch127]]You turn around to see Annos, managing to stand up straight through what seems to be some amount of effort.
“Are you sure?” Soillere asks, the scepticism audible in his voice, but Annos just lifts his chin slightly.
“Better this than trying to climb something.”
Soillere glances between the two of you momentarily, before turning back to the sails as another of the crew whistles from their perch on one of the crosstrees.
“All right,” he says eventually, waving for you to move up to the section of rope he’d been holding onto. “Good luck.”
You meet the eyes of the crewmen waiting on the crosstree and nod; you can’t help but notice they look a little unconvinced, but given how much of an explanation Soillere had to provide you with just about this one thing you’re doing, you suppose you can’t really complain about not inspiring much confidence in your abilities as a sailor.
They untie the rope holding the sail in place and it drops noisily; between the rattling of the pulley on the rope and the loud flapping of the sailcloth as it unfurls, it’s almost like a piece of theatre - you almost forget that you have something you’re supposed to doing imminently.
<<if $frc >= 12>>
As soon as the pulley hits the knot, the rope is yanked forward with unbelievable strength; it’s like you’re trying to keep hold of the tail of a dragon. You plant your feet firmly and haul with all your might, and even then you still can’t keep from sliding forward a short distance - you can hear Annos swearing behind you, but he sounds more surprised than in any kind of trouble.
The //Wisp// strains against you for every inch, like a bird longing to fly. The sails boom as they fill and bellow, and two crewmen run over to help, grabbing the rope behind you and helping to pull it as taut as a bowstring. The four of you struggle backwards towards the bow, heaving together as one, and you’re struck by a strange feeling of camaraderie.
“We’ve got it!” one of the sailors behind you says,<<if $touchaverse eq false>> clapping you on the shoulder<<else>> triumphantly<<endif>>, and you release the rope, feeling strangely satisfied.
“Not bad for our first day,” Annos says, smiling, as you turn back to face him, and you grin in response, unable to keep from feeling slightly pleased with yourself.
[[Unfortunately, you think there might be a lot more to do still.|ch127][$annos += 1, $skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<elseif $frc >= 10>>
As soon as the pulley hits the knot, the rope is yanked forward with unbelievable strength; you feel a little bit like you’re trying to stop the world from turning. Soillere hadn’t been kidding about not being able to do this alone - you’re not even sure that you and Annos can handle it together. You haul with all your might, but despite your best efforts, the two of you are both dragged forward by the sail’s desperate desire to be free.
In a last effort to keep from losing your grip, you brace one leg against the bow and push backwards with it, putting //all// of your weight into the rope.
“Thank the gods,” Annos manages to say, panting, once you’ve both stopped sliding forwards.
Two other crewmen run over to help you, grabbing onto the rope behind you and helping you pull. You’re exhausted by the time you’ve inched your way back towards the bow, and then, when the line has finally been tied off, your arms feel like they’re made of jelly.
“I think- I should probably lie down,” Annos says, from behind you, and you turn to face him, concerned.
He looks drawn and clammy, like he’s overexerted himself.
“We helped,” you reassure him, feeling a bit that way yourself. “We did our part. Go and get some rest.”
[[At least you hope this constitutes doing enough to help…|ch127][$skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<else>>
As soon as the pulley hits the knot, the rope is yanked forward with unbelievable strength; you let out a loud yelp as the weight of the sail pulls you off your feet. You manage to keep hold of the rope, but you struggle to regain your footing and end up crashing to the ground, being dragged forwards unceremoniously on your backside while Annos swears loudly behind you.
You can see a few other crewmen hurrying over towards you as you try to figure out some way to get back up without letting go of the rope, and eventually you manage it, once there’s three more people lending a hand. Inch by inch, the five of you pull the line taut, and drag it over to the bow to tie it off tightly, and by the time it’s done, you feel like you might need a break - or maybe a short holiday.
“This probably wasn’t one of my better ideas,” you say, turning to face Annos, before being taken aback to see crimson stains on one of his hands where he’s clutching at his stomach.
“Yeah… mine either,” he says, weakly. “I should probably… lie down.”
“I’ll fetch the doctor,” one of the crewmen who had aided you tells him, holding out an arm to help him walk.
“Sorry,” you say, dry-mouthed, but he just waves a hand dismissively as he leans against the sailor beside him, practically being carried off the deck.
[[Well… that doesn’t exactly leave you feeling great.|ch127]]<<endif>>There’s a whistle from somewhere above you; you look up to see another member of the crew, balancing on the long crosstree that the sails are hanging from. They’re giving you and Soillere a somewhat bemused look, though given how much of an explanation Soillere had to provide you with just about this one thing you’re doing, you suppose you can’t really complain about not inspiring much confidence in your abilities as a sailor.
“You holding on?” Soillere asks, and you grip the sackcloth-covered rope a little tighter and grunt an assent.
“Let her go!”
It’s noisy; between the rattling of the pulley on the rope and the loud flapping of the sailcloth as it unfurls, it’s almost like a piece of theatre - you almost forget that you have something you’re supposed to doing imminently.
Soillere, in front of you, is coiled like a spring, tensed and waiting, and when the sail is nearly fully opened, he lifts the rope and brings it in close to his torso, bracing his legs and gritting his teeth.
“Now! Pull!” he shouts, and you do as he says.
<<if $frc >= 12>>
The pulley hits the knot a split second later, and you think that if you hadn’t been ready for it, it might have nearly dislocated your arms. It feels like you’re trying to hold onto a dragon - you plant your feet firmly and haul with all your might, and even then you still can’t keep from sliding forward a short distance.
The //Wisp// strains against you for every inch, like a bird longing to fly. The sails boom as they fill and bellow, and two crewmen run over to help, grabbing the rope behind you and helping to pull it as taut as a bowstring. The four of you struggle backwards towards the bow, heaving together as one, and you’re struck by a strange feeling of camaraderie.
“We’ve got it!” one of the sailors behind you says, <<if $touchaverse eq false>>clapping you on the shoulder<<else>>triumphantly<<endif>>, and you release the rope, feeling strangely satisfied.
You look up to find Soillere grinning at you, apparently pleased. “You may just turn out to be pretty useful yet, hm?”
“High praise,” you respond, drily, and he laughs.
“Come on! There’s more to be done.”
[[You wonder if it will ever end…|ch127][$soillere += 1, $skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<elseif $frc >= 10>>
The pulley hits the knot a split second later, and you feel a little bit like you’re trying to stop the world from turning. Soillere hadn’t been kidding about not being able to do this alone - you’re not even sure that the two of you can handle it together. You haul with all your might, but despite your best efforts, you and Soillere are both dragged forward by the sail’s desperate desire to be free.
In a last effort to keep from losing your grip, you brace one leg against the bow and push backwards with it, putting //all// of your weight into the rope.
“That’s done it,” Soillere manages to say, panting, once you’ve both stopped sliding forwards.
Two other crewmen run over to help you, grabbing onto the rope behind you and adding their weight to your efforts to pull the rope taut. You’re exhausted by the time you’ve inched your way back towards the bow, and then, when the line has finally been tied off, your arms feel like they’re made of jelly.
You look up to find Soillere grinning amiably at you. “Welcome to the crew.”
[[You’ve had gentler welcoming parties…|ch127][$skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<else>>
The pulley hits the knot a split second later, and you let out a loud yelp as the weight of the sail pulls you off your feet. You manage to keep hold of the rope, but you struggle to regain your footing and end up crashing to the ground, being dragged forwards unceremoniously on your backside while Soillere swears and struggles ahead of you.
You can see a few other crewmen hurrying over towards you as you try to figure out some way to get back up without letting go of the rope, and eventually you manage it, once there’s three more people lending a hand.
The sails boom as they fill and bellow, the //Wisp// flaunting her literal ability to knock you right on your arse like a prized horse taking a victory lap after bucking off its rider. Inch by inch, the five of you pull the line taut, dragging it over to the bow to tie it off tightly, and by the time it’s done, you feel like you might need a break - or maybe a short holiday.
“This probably wasn’t one of my better ideas,” you tell Soillere, feeling exhausted, but he just laughs.
“Hey… you get points for trying!”
[[He probably meant that to be more comforting than it comes across… probably.|ch127]]<<endif>>You continue pushing, and the labour has you with your back to Our Lady for a little while; by the time you’re circling back around and able to see her again, you’re watching her with interest, curious as to what exactly she’s doing.
She’s dangling the rope off the edge of the bow currently, wiggling it around a bit and looking as though she’s concentrating hard - trying to catch something with the hook, perhaps?
As you watch, she straightens up and begins reeling the cable in, hand-over-hand, and to your complete bafflement, the weight you’re pushing against on the capstan seems to decrease… by about half, if you had to guess. As though you’re only lifting the weight of one anchor now instead of two. Has one of them slipped off? None of the rest of the crew seem concerned.
Once Our Lady has made some slack in the cable, she holds it out over the edge of the bow carefully with one hand, gathers her skirts fastidiously in the other, and walks up a few of the stairs to the forecastle, still carrying whatever is on the other end of the rope.
Now that she’s up a little higher, you can see what it is, as she swings it gently back and forth: it’s the anchor.
She’s- she’s //lifting the whole weight of the anchor and its chain combined//, with //one hand//.
<<if $end >= 12>>
Your breath catches, and for just a second it disrupts your whole rhythm. You almost stop pushing - but you manage to keep from faltering, and put your head back down as you continue. None of the others pushing with you seem fazed in the slightest, so you suppose they must just be used to her doing this by now.
You don’t really know how to feel about that.
“Hold on, I’ll just get the other one,” she calls out, after you hear a few loud clunks from the side of the ship, and you find yourself somewhat in awe of her casual tone.
It’s barely even ten more seconds before all of the rest of the weight lifts from the capstan, and most of the crewmen around you stand up straight and make to leave, the job seemingly done. Not knowing what else to do, you make your way over to Our Lady.
“Need any help?” you ask, still slightly bemused, as she wrangles the other anchor like it’s no more than a fish on a line.
“No, thank you, I’m fine,” she replies, smiling at you in what might be a shy way, if your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. “But it’s good of you to offer.”
[[You suppose you should go and see if there’s anything else that needs doing…|ch127][$ourlady += 1, $skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<elseif $end >= 10>>
Your breath catches, and it instantly disrupts your whole rhythm. You stop pushing for just one beat, but it’s enough to put you behind everyone else, and cause the sailor behind you to swear as their spoke comes up against your back. Our Lady turns to see what the commotion is about, and sees you looking at her.
You both look away almost instantly; you figure you have to return to pushing or risk getting yelled at. Our Lady, for her part, seems embarrassed, and perhaps, strangely, even a little afraid. You hear a few heavy clunking sounds from the side of the ship, and then some footsteps, but she doesn’t say anything.
It’s not long before all of the rest of the weight lifts from the capstan, and most of the crewmen around you stand up straight and make to leave, the job seemingly done. You take a few moments to catch your breath, resting your tired legs and back.
By the time you look up, Our Lady has finished securing the second anchor; she doesn’t meet your eyes, possibly deliberately, and instead walks away quickly.
[[Well… that was awkward. And astonishing.|ch127][$skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<else>>
Your breath catches, and it instantly disrupts your whole rhythm. You stop pushing for just one beat, but it’s enough to put you behind everyone else, and cause the sailor behind you to swear as their spoke comes up against your back. Our Lady turns to see what the commotion is about, and sees you looking at her.
She looks away almost instantly; you almost think you see, to your surprise and befuddlement, a hint of fear in her eyes before she does so. It takes another second for you to realise that you should be going back to pushing… but you instantly know for sure that you can’t. As soon as you stopped, your muscles decided that inertia had won.
You stumble away from the capstan - you can hear the sailors grumbling, but this is better than you being stuck standing in their way - and bend over double for a while, trying to get your breath back. By the time you have it in you to stand back up, the others have mostly dispersed, the job seemingly done, but Our Lady is hovering somewhat awkwardly nearby.
She wrings her hands for a second, opening her mouth as if to say something, and then seems to think better of it, instead turning and walking away briskly.
[[You have no idea what to think about any of this. Your brain is as tired as your legs and back…|ch127]]<<endif>>The crewman in the rigging unties something at<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>>’s signal, and the tall sail at the top of the mast drops, aided somehow by the rope that Soillere gave them, you presume.
They make whatever it is look easy, muscular arms steady as a rock as they wrap the rope around their forearms and haul it over towards you.
You pull the line as tight as you can against the strange metal horned thing, and loop the rope under and around the two ends in as close an imitation of Soillere as you can manage. That done, you make a neat little loop in the rope and pull it over the horn facing towards the fore of the ship, making sure the free end of the line continues off away from the direction of the sail.
That… looks right, actually!
“Got it?”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> asks from behind you, with just the slightest hint of impatience in their voice.
“Yeah, I think so!” you reply, and they grunt in acknowledgement.
“Let’s see how it goes, then.”
They remove one hand from the line, releasing their other hand’s grip more slowly as they attempt to let the knot take the weight; you can’t help but feel a little bit smug as the knot holds perfectly well, even when they release the rope entirely.
For a couple of seconds, the two of you stand there, admiring the secured sail billowing majestically as the //Wisp// comes to life around you, a creature of effortless motion and unfettered freedom born out of tightly-bound constraints and backbreaking toil. She’s really quite the sight to behold.
“We make a good team,”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> says, turning back to face you and grinning easily. “Want to go see what else needs doing? I’d rather stick with you than bother the crew.”
[[It’s true that there seems to be no end of work to be done…|ch127][$tehemia += 1]]It takes you a little while to locate the rudder under the water; the stern where you’re standing is actually situated further back than the aftmost part of the keel, so you have to lean over the edge slightly and peer back under. You won’t lie, it’s a little unsettling, leaning out over the Black River’s waters and watching them churn underneath you… but at least there’s no shortage of railings and lantern poles to hang onto.
Suddenly, as you watch, a strange shape appears in the water under the keel, bobbing around wildly as it’s pushed outwards and away by the //Wisp’s// momentum. Once it breaks free of her slipstream, the object stops jolting around so haphazardly, and you recognise what it is, even some distance beneath the Black River’s surface.
The silvered sheen of steel glinting in what passes for light down here outlines the edges of a piece of armour, a breastplate most likely - and that strip of golden cloth attached to it, fluttering mournfully like a banner in the wind, looks like the tattered remnants of a tabard…
<<if $vig >= 12>>
Your instinct is to reel back instantly, horrified, but just before you avert your gaze, the object turns a little more in the water, and you realise that it’s empty. An empty piece of armour… not a body. Just metal and cloth.
You suppose that makes sense, given what the Black River does to people who fall into it. Still not the most pleasant of surprises for you, though.
You watch it for a few seconds longer, reassuring yourself that it’s just armour, and then spot something else in the water nearby, a much more jagged shape, with a sharp and twisted silhouette - and this one isn’t moving.
“I think you might want to steer a bit further out,” you tell the captain warily, still eyeing the new object. “There’s some kind of… stone protrusion in the water off the bow. I think we’re sailing right into whatever it is.”
You hear the ship’s wheel turning behind you as the captain complies. “Stone protrusion? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“I think it’s… chunks of masonry,” you tell her, trying not to think too hard about it. “Parts of a building. From… up above.”
A few seconds pass in silence, the captain seemingly accepting your words, before you hear the slightest scraping sound as part of the ship’s underside brushes briefly against the masonry in the water.
“Good eye,” the captain tells you, a faint note of approval in her voice, as she adjusts the wheel once more. “Thanks for the tip.”
[[You can’t deny you’ll be glad to put this part of the river behind you…|ch127][$bettina += 1, $skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<elseif $vig >= 10>>
Your instinct is to reel back instantly, horrified, but just before you avert your gaze, the object turns a little more in the water, and you realise that it’s empty. An empty piece of armour… not a body. Just metal and cloth.
You suppose that makes sense, given what the Black River does to people who fall into it. Still not the most pleasant of surprises for you, though.
You withdraw from the edge, heaving a sigh and rubbing at your eyes.
“Something wrong?” the captain asks, from behind you.
“There’s some… things in the river, things that must have fallen down through the hole,” you reply, trying not to think about the possibility that there might be more. “I don’t know how much fell; if you want to avoid debris, you might have to steer slightly further out.”
The captain makes a thoughtful noise that swiftly turns into a resigned grunt when you both hear a sudden scraping noise along the underside of the //Wisp//.
“I think you’re right.”
Whatever that was, it sounded more solid than a piece of empty armour. You think about looking back over the edge, to see if you can catch a glimpse of it, and then decide against it.
[[You can’t deny you’ll be glad to put this part of the river behind you…|ch127][$skillcheckpass += 1]]
<<else>>
You reel back away from the bulwark, horrified. Did that body get dragged under the ship? You don’t want to think about whether they were alive beforehand or not…
Suddenly, there’s an ugly scraping noise from below you, as the underside of the //Wisp// seems to collide with something in the water. The captain growls out a curse under her breath, turning the wheel to take the ship away from its current course.
“Are you watching the rudder or aren’t you?” she asks, an irritated edge in her voice.
“There- there was a body,” you manage to tell her, trying not to think about it too hard. “In the water. I think we must be sailing over… things that fell through the hole. There might be chunks of building or something in the water… it wasn’t the riverbank.”
She’s silent for a few moments as she adjusts the wheel, and when she finally speaks again, she doesn’t sound as annoyed as you expected her to.
“A body? There shouldn’t be any //bodies// in the river. They vanish once they’re in the water for too long.”
Dry-mouthed, you gather your courage and peer back over the stern. It takes you a few seconds to pick out the gleam of the armour under the water once again, and this time you focus on it carefully, really trying to get a good look.
It’s empty. Just an empty piece of armour, not a body. Cloth and steel, nothing more.
“I suppose we came too late for whoever was wearing it,” the captain says solemnly, when you relay this information to her.
[[You can’t deny you’ll be glad to put this part of the river behind you…|ch127]]<<endif>>“I’ve never really been much of a one for speeches.”
It’s <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>Vanator<<else>>the other living person on board, the one who spotted the souls being stolen earlier<<endif>>, lurking in the shadows beneath a nearby set of stairs<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>; you suppose this must be where he disappeared off to when the captain started giving orders<<else>>. They seem to have been hiding here while the crew has been working<<endif>>.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re much of a one for work, either,” you reply, pointedly, but <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>he<<else>>they<<endif>> just snort<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>s<<endif>>.
“Believe me, trying to help will only put you in the crew’s way. I know from experience… we’re better off staying out of their hair.”
<<if $prs >= 12>>
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He doesn’t seem all that agitated, you realise, as you watch him for a few more seconds - surprising, considering how tense he was in your previous conversation, let alone after seeing souls getting sucked up into the sky. You wonder, somewhat smugly, if he was also reassured by your speech.<<else>>They seem fairly calm, especially considering current circumstances; then again, they’ve been down here in the Underworld since before you got here. Maybe it’s hard to be offput by things after spending a certain length of time doing the impossible.<<endif>>
<<if $amnesia eq false>>“I’m not, you know,” you tell <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>>, returning to <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> earlier comments. “A politician, I mean. Not many of those in the $faction.”<<else>>“I might be, you know,” you tell <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>>, returning to <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> earlier comments. “A politician, I mean. I don’t actually remember.”<<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He<<else>>They<<endif>> give<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>s<<endif>> you a critical look, seeming to examine you closely from head to toe, before shaking <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> head. “<<if $amnesia eq true>>I doubt it.<<else>>Just as well.<<endif>> You wouldn’t make a very good politician, really. Unlike them, you actually //try// to be useful.”
You hesitate for a second before responding, cognizant of the bitterness in <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> voice. “Sounds like things must be pretty rough where you’re from.”
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>His<<else>>Their<<endif>> eyes flash for a second, and you wonder briefly if you’ve made <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>> angry<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>> again<<endif>>. <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He doesn’t<<else>>They don’t<<endif>> say anything about it, though, instead merely taking a deep breath and turning away towards the hatch that leads belowdecks.
“Things are pretty rough //here//.”
<<elseif $prs >= 10>>
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He seems tense, you realise, as you watch him for a few more seconds - unsurprising, considering how he was behaving throughout your entire previous conversation, let alone with the shock of seeing souls getting sucked up into the sky on top of that.<<else>>They seem tense, which is understandable, considering current circumstances; then again, they’ve been down here in the Underworld since before you got here. Maybe it’s hard to be spend any length of time here without becoming constantly jumpy.<<endif>>
<<if $amnesia eq false>>“I’m not, you know,” you tell <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>>, returning to <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> earlier comments. “A school teacher, I mean. <<if $deity eq "Accharina">>Not really my department, I don’t think.<<else>>Not many of those in the $faction.”<<endif>><<else>>“I might be, you know,” you tell <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>>, returning to <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> earlier comments. “A school teacher, I mean. I don’t actually remember.”<<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He<<else>>They<<endif>> give<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>s<<endif>> you a critical look, seeming to examine you closely from head to toe, before shrugging. “<<if $amnesia eq true>>It would be good if you were.<<else>>Pity.<<endif>> The world could use more school teachers, and less people who make their living through war.”
You hesitate for a second before responding, cognizant of the bitterness in <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> voice. “Sounds like things must be pretty rough where you’re from.”
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>His<<else>>Their<<endif>> eyes flash for a second, and you wonder briefly if you’ve made <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>> angry<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>> again<<endif>>. <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He doesn’t<<else>>They don’t<<endif>> say anything about it, though, instead merely taking a deep breath and turning away towards the hatch that leads belowdecks.
“Things are pretty rough //here//.”
<<else>>
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He seems tense, you realise, as you watch him for a few more seconds - unsurprising, considering how he was behaving throughout your entire previous conversation, let alone with the shock of seeing souls getting sucked up into the sky on top of that.<<else>>They seem tense, which is understandable, considering current circumstances; then again, they’ve been down here in the Underworld since before you got here. Maybe it’s hard to be spend any length of time here without becoming constantly jumpy.<<endif>>
“Did you have something you wanted to say to me?” you ask <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>>, returning to <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> earlier comments. “Seems like you disapprove of me trying to encourage the crew.”
There’s a sound from under <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> mask that might possibly be a snigger. “Oh, is that what that was?”
You bristle immediately at the tone of <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>his<<else>>their<<endif>> voice; admittedly it’s true that it didn’t go as well as you had hoped, but you don’t feel like you really deserve to be laughed at.
“Hey, at least I was //trying// to help!”
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>He<<else>>They<<endif>> lean<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>s<<endif>> one hand against the railing beside <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>him<<else>>them<<endif>> casually, still sounding amused. “Next time you might want to give not scaring the crap out of them a try. Some of the crew are older than the Wolven Empire, and most of the rest are human… they see your teeth<<if $turmoil >= 55>>, they hear the snarl in your voice,<<endif>> and they’re daunted. This isn’t the modern world of up above.”
Okay, that… smarts a little.
“They think I’m a monster?” you ask, and then wince when you hear the growl make its way into your throat.
“They think you’re intimidating,” <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>he<<else>>they<<endif>> repl<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>ies<<else>>y<<endif>>, more ruefully than you were expecting. “There’s a difference. Don’t give them any reason to be afraid, and they’ll get used to you. It’s just that given all the panic, you didn’t exactly make the best first impression.”
“Sounds like you have experience going through something similar,” you manage to say, after a weighty pause, but <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>he<<else>>they<<endif>> just turn<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>s<<endif>> away towards the hatch that leads belowdecks.
“We all do.”
<<endif>>
That seems to be the end of the conversation.<<if $prs eq 8>> Wait, //we//? Does that mean…?<<endif>>
You glance around the deck of the //Wisp//, watching the crew continue to go about their duties. You debate the wisdom of <<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>Vanator’s<<else>>this other living person’s<<endif>> advice; it’s true that if you wanted to help any of the sailors, you would have to make them stop and explain things to you before you could be of any use. Maybe it really is best to just keep out of their way…
Then again, you’re not exactly sure what else to do with yourself.
[[If you stay on deck then you suppose you can at least offer to help if anyone needs it…|ch127]]The crewman in the rigging unties something at<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the survivor<<endif>>’s signal, and the tall sail at the top of the mast drops, aided in some way by the rope that Soillere gave them, you presume.
They make whatever it is look easy, muscular arms steady as a rock as they wrap the rope around their forearms and haul it over towards you.
You pull the line as tight as you can against the strange metal horned thing, and loop the rope under and around the two ends in as close an imitation of Soillere as you can manage. You feel like there’s something you’re missing though - a loop somewhere you did out of order, maybe?
“Got it?”<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> asks from behind you, with just the slightest hint of impatience in their voice.
“Uh… maybe.”
They bark out a short laugh. “Well, no other way to find out than by testing it!”
They remove one hand from the line, releasing their other hand’s grip more slowly as they attempt to let the knot take the weight. Almost immediately you realise something is definitely wrong, considering that your attempt begins to unravel unceremoniously.
“Don’t let go!” you exclaim, hurriedly, and<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> grunts an assent before quickly wrapping the rope around their arms again.
“All right… give it another go, then.”
You look more closely this time, figuring that what’s missing was some final way to keep the whole thing from falling apart, and realise that you’re supposed to create a little loop in the rope itself before pulling the end of it over the metal horn to finish it off.
It seems obvious now that you can see it, of course, but then that’s always the way.
You quickly redo all of the loops, finishing the knot off properly this time, and it does indeed look identical to Soillere’s knot now that you’ve puzzled it out.
“Got it!” you call, and<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>> Tehemia<<else>> the other survivor<<endif>> cautiously eases their hold off the line, obviously remaining ready to grab it again if necessary.
Luckily, however, the knot holds this time.
They release their hold on the rope entirely, and for a couple of seconds the two of you stand there, admiring the secured sail billowing majestically as the //Wisp// comes to life around you, a creature of effortless motion and unfettered freedom born out of tightly-bound constraints and backbreaking toil.
Eventually they turn back to you, grinning easily. “Onto the next, then?”
[[It’s true that there seems to be no end of work to be done…|ch127]]The other woman smiles at your response. “And are you comfortable being referred to by terms like ‘person’?”
[[“Yes, gender-neutral terms are good.”|ch112][$woman = "person", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "serrah", $madam = "ser", $daughter = "child", $sister = "sibling"]]
[[“No, I prefer feminine terms like ‘woman’.”|ch112]]
[[“No, I prefer masculine terms like ‘man’.”|ch112][$woman = "man", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "master", $madam = "mister", $daughter = "son", $sister = "brother"]]The other woman smiles at your response. “And are you comfortable being referred to by terms like ‘person’?”
[[“Yes, gender-neutral terms are good.”|ch112][$woman = "person", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "serrah", $madam = "ser", $daughter = "child", $sister = "sibling"]]
[[“No, I prefer feminine terms like ‘woman’.”|ch112]]
[[“No, I prefer masculine terms like ‘man’.”|ch112][$woman = "man", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "master", $madam = "mister", $daughter = "son", $sister = "brother"]]The other woman smiles at your response. “And are you comfortable being referred to by terms like ‘person’?”
[[“Yes, gender-neutral terms are good.”|ch112][$woman = "person", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "serrah", $madam = "ser", $daughter = "child", $sister = "sibling"]]
[[“No, I prefer feminine terms like ‘woman’.”|ch112]]
[[“No, I prefer masculine terms like ‘man’.”|ch112][$woman = "man", $lady = "buddy", $mistress = "master", $madam = "mister", $daughter = "son", $sister = "brother"]]Thank you for playing!
Here is a list of some things that you can look forward to in the next chapter!
• Another whole batch of ROs - the introductions of Ia, Kebisa, Namsun, Barthelemy and Gervaise!
• The return of Enarra (and getting to pick a surname, if you want)!
• Appearance customisation, including things like skin colour, hair colour, hair style, hair texture, and facial hair options!
• Class choices (exciting)!
• Lamerran PCs’ soul-familiars!
• The first Morning Scene (a special scene with characters who are nearby to your choice of room when you wake up in the morning)!
• Fite! and
• a loooooooot more words lmao
If you would like a leetol taste of what is to come, <<message 'click here to expand/collapse a sneak peek!'>>//“That’s it!”
Her voice is loud and rings clearly across the deck as she settles her hat firmly on her head. This is clearly the side of the captain that shows when she is focussed on her position of command.
She steps up to the railing overlooking the lower decks and the crew all turn to watch her, waiting for orders.
“This has gone //far enough//! Now it’s time to fight back!”
Barthelemy gives her a loaded look, putting a hand on her arm as if trying to hold her back, but she ignores him, turning instead to Soillere.
“Run out the long nines. We’re going to blow these sons of bitches out of the air!”//<</message>>
Special thanks to my beloved nyehilism of <a href="https://nyehilismwriting.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Project Hadea</a> fame, for coding the UI based off my wildly ambitious designs <3
I’m afraid you’ll all have to be patient in waiting for the next chapter, as due to my physical disabilities I can only write as fast as I can write, but I write these stories for fun and because I enjoy them, so please trust that I’ll be working on it as/when I can!
Additionally, if you enjoyed the game thus far, I’d like to suggest that if you live somewhere that has been subjected to colonisation, you take the time now to google your local area and find out whose land you’re living on, and furthermore to look into ways that you can support local and nationwide Land Back movements in aid of those people. For example, if you’re living in Australia like me, you can go to the Australians for Native Title and Reconciliation (ANTaR) <a href="https://antar.org.au/" target="_blank">website</a> right now to learn about Land Back initiatives that range from local issues to pushes for federal legislation - and your local council’s website can tell you about the traditional custodians of the land in your region (they have to be able to tell you, by law).
//The Black River// absolutely //isn’t// an own voices game when it comes to race and indigeneity (I am white, as I hope I have made clear by now), but I am a passionate advocate for Land Back as a movement, both here and overseas, and I firmly believe that the beneficiaries of colonialism’s ill-gotten advantages must stand in solidarity with the indigenous peoples of their lands in any way that they can, whether it’s in <a href="https://landback.org/" target="_blank">the continental USA and Canada</a>, or lesser thought-of areas where settler colonialism is nonetheless still actively causing great harm today, such as Palestine, Aotearoa, Samoa, and Hawai’i.
Thank you again! It means a lot to me that you read to the end! <3
J.A. FitzjamesShe returns her attention to the decks below, her eyes wandering idly across the timbers and lines… and then, as you watch, a strange sort of malaise seems to come over her. Her face changes; gone is her usual self-assuredness, replaced by bewilderment and what seems to be a slight hint of fear, and she somehow seems even more incorporeal than before.
“Skeleton…” she mutters, as though she’s only just heard the word for the first time. “A skeleton crew…”
“Captain?” you ask, unsure what’s wrong, and she turns to look at you, eyes widening in shock.
“Who are you?” she manages to say, drawing back away from where you’re standing. “Where’s-”
“Captain!” Soillere interjects sharply, from his place at the ship’s wheel. “We’re sailing to the nearest temple, to resupply, remember?”
For the briefest instant, she still looks confused, but it’s quickly replaced by a stony mask of carefully-cultivated lack of expression as she pulls herself together, brushing down her coat and avoiding your eyes.
“Yes,” she says brusquely, pushing past you to head determinedly for the stairs. “Yes, of course.”
She doesn’t get far, however. Out of nowhere, <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the other survivor<<endif>> appears at the bottom of the staircase, blocking her way.
“What do you mean, resupply?” they demand, folding their arms across their chest.
The captain seems to pause for a moment, waiting to see if they’ll move aside, and then draws herself up to her full height when they don’t.
“This isn’t a hotel. We don’t have food for all of you. You’re also using up our medical supplies and we’re light on fucking rope. We need to resupply. What about that don’t you understand?”
“We can’t //stop//,” <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the survivor<<endif>> replies, sounding extremely frustrated. “We have to go and find the gods! We //have// to help!”
<<if ($priority eq "justice") or ($priority eq "peace")>>
You can’t say you disagree. The captain certainly seems to, though… you’re not sure why they think her mind would have changed from earlier.
<<elseif ($priority eq "answers") or ($priority eq "intervention")>>
You understand where they’re coming from, but… you’re not going to get anywhere at all without the captain.
<<else>>
You’re on the captain’s side here. Stopping to acquire //food// sounds like the closest thing to sensible you can think of right now.
<<endif>>
“This is //my// ship!” the captain snaps, her eyes flashing. “And the river only goes in one fucking direction! The temple is on the bloody way to where you want to go! If you don’t like it then you can get out and //swim//.”
She reaches out an arm as though she’s about to shove <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the other survivor<<endif>> out of the way, but they recoil hastily away from her, seemingly horrified by the thought of her touching them. The captain, for her part, seems satisfied enough by this, and merely storms away, slamming the door into her quarters behind her.
[[Well… at least they didn’t come to blows?|ch127b]]There’s silence for a few seconds after the door slams shut, with nothing really happening except for you and <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the other survivor<<endif>> staring at each other in the awkward aftermath. Soillere, still behind you at the ship’s wheel, eventually breaks the moment by sighing heavily.
Before you can say anything, <<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>Tehemia<<else>>the survivor<<endif>> turns away - there’s an expression on their face that you can’t quite place; maybe it’s something a little like shame, or possibly something closer to pity - and begins to walk off as well, though in the opposite direction to the captain. They head down onto the main deck and disappear out of sight behind the mainmast, though you think that maybe you can still hear them muttering to themself, indistinctly.
Gods, but you’re tired.
It feels like there’s a piece of smouldering coal in your chest where one of your ribs should be, burning you every time you so much as twitch, and your head is pounding like somebody has been using it as a drum for the entire day. And that’s not even mentioning that you haven’t eaten or drunk anything since you woke up, either.
You suppose it’s probably a good thing that the captain has plans to acquire more food. You’re not exactly sure what food from the Underworld would taste like, but it has to be better than nothing.
As for right now, there’s not a whole lot that you can really //do//. You don’t know enough about the //Wisp// to set yourself to some kind of task, and anyway your body probably wouldn’t thank you. There are people around, but you don’t know any of them especially well, and you still don’t really have any space on the ship to think about lying down in and resting.
You don’t particularly want to go back to the sailcloth you woke up on… if it’s even still there.
The captain did mention that Soillere could find you a place to sleep, earlier (it seems like hours and hours ago). Maybe you should go and ask him…
<<if visited ("ch122") eq 0>><<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>[[…or you could go and check on Annos again. It’s true that, despite everything, he’s still doing slightly worse than you are.|ch1a201][$annos += 5]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+5 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
<<endif>>\
[[…or you could go and check on the captain. She seemed… upset, after the argument, and you still don’t understand what happened with her before that.|ch1c101][$bettina += 5, $soillere += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+5 to your relationship with Bettina, +2 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>>
[[…or you could go and find Our Lady. You feel like you could maybe use some of her clarity right about now.|ch1ol101][$ourlady += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Our Lady//]<<endif>>
[[…or you could spend some more time with Soillere before turning in. He seems to be holding together better than anyone else right now.|ch1s101][$soillere += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+5 to your relationship with Soillere//]<<endif>> /* The discrepancy between the stat gain in the link and the label is because the other 3 is given after his first passage, so that it's easier to distinguish people who had negative rep with him from the first scene. Don't "correct" me about it. */
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") eq 0>>[[…or you could go and check on the other survivor. They’ve seemed pretty shaken, from what you’ve seen of them throughout the day.|ch1t101][$tehemia += 5]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+5 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>><<else>>[[…or you could go and check on Tehemia. They seem pretty shaken by everything that’s going on.|ch1t101][$tehemia += 5]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+5 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>><<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch1v101") eq 0>>[[…or you could go and find the other living person on board, from earlier. You’d like to know who they are.|ch1v201][$vanator += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Vanator//]<<endif>><<else>>[[…or you could go and find Vanator, and maybe see if he can help you instead. Or find out why he keeps making himself so scarce…|ch1v201][$vanator += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Vanator//]<<endif>><<endif>>
<<if visited ("ch1a101") eq 0>>[[…or you could go and check on the survivor who was still unconscious. Who knows, maybe the commotion woke them up…|ch127a1]]
<<endif>><<endif>>\
<<if (visited ("ch122") > 0) or ($amnesia eq true)>>[[…in fact, yes. You think that’s what you’ll do… you could really, REALLY use some sleep right now.|ch128]]<<endif>>\<<if $turmoil >= 55>>“If it //is// a dream, my subconscious must not be in a good place right now,” you muse, fiddling absently with one of the keys from his collection.<<else>>“If it //is// a dream, it’s going to be impossible to explain to anyone once I wake up,” you respond, drily.<<endif>>
He leans his head back against the wall behind him, staring up at the ceiling, and you find yourself wondering if he even heard what you said.
“The amnesia…” he manages to say, eventually, returning his attention to you. “Where does it come from? What caused it? Is it because of the ritual?”
You shake your head, glad that you at least know the answer to this one. “No, we… fell into the river. The Black River removes the memories of life from souls who want to move on and return to the gods. It’s not a place that living people are supposed to end up.”
He covers his eyes, swearing, and clenches all of his hands tightly into fists without taking them away from his face. “I was kind of hoping I’d just been hit on the head…”
“I mean, in your case, that might also be true,” you tell him, remembering the scrap of memory that he brought out in you when you first saw him. “I suspect I was roughed up a little, but nothing like what happened to you. You were already unconscious when we were falling.”
He looks back at you at that, wide eyes scanning your face. “You remember something that recent?”
You shift somewhat uncomfortably on your stool. “I didn’t at first. When I came in here earlier, and I saw you, it’s like the memory… came back. Triggered by the sight of you. I don’t remember why we were falling, just… the horrible sensation and the panic. I seemed to think that you might be almost dead already, so I tried to reach out and grab you on the way down. That’s about all that I remembered, though.”
He goes quiet again, for quite a long time; you’re just about to awkwardly take your leave when his eyes snap back to you once more, looking mournful and also somewhat embarrassed.
“Thank you,” he says, sincerely. “For trying to help me, I mean.”
<<if $decency >= 50>>“I would have done the same for anyone,” you reply, shrugging. “But you’re welcome, of course. Even if it didn’t do much good.”<<else>>“Whatever’s going on, we really only have each other to depend on,” you reply, grimly. “We need each other.”<<endif>>
He gives you a strange look in response, one that you don’t really know how to interpret.
[[He’s really having a rough time piecing things back together. Much worse than you…|ch1a201b]]<script>window.openPage = function(pageName) {
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<div id="cThree" class="codex"><<include "cThree">></div><<if ($codex101 eq true) and (visited ("ch1tc") eq 0)>>__Enarra__ <<message '+/-'>>Enarra is your partner, a thym’ani sniper - it’s your job to provide support for him in the field. He is of mixed race; despite the four arms and four eyes common to most people of thym’ani blood, his father is a human. He and his father have the same black skin and hair, while his mother, who spent most of her early life underground, has metallic grey skin, the colour of steel, and blue-black hair with a metallic sheen.
Enarra’s anti-materiel sniper rifle is currently the only known weapon of its kind in existence, an heirloom passed down through his mother’s family that his father eventually managed to repair. Unlike most thym’ani weapons that rely on lasers, Enarra’s rifle fires a slug of super-heated metal surrounded by a small jacket of gas so hot that it burns through most surfaces, making it ideal for use against armoured units, emplacements, and vehicles.<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex102 eq true>>__Empress Sorivinia Ellyra Marianna Lilissa Anghelescu__ <<message '+/-'>>The current ruler of the Wolven Empire, Empress Sorivinia Anghelescu has been in power for roughly six months, during which time a nearly unparalleled amount of upheaval has beset the already chaos-stricken nation. It’s easy for younger residents of other nations to forget, but the relative stability achieved during the reign of the empress’ late father, Emperor Nikolas IV, was by no means usual for the Wolven Empire.
His tenure as emperor was long and prosperous, and humanity became accustomed to regular diplomacy and trade flowing between the Coalition and the Empire, forgetting that the emperor before him, Emperor Guillaume des Embois (“The Iron Vice”), was extremely strict about forbidding diplomatic or friendly contact with the outside world. Many wolven were relieved to have the throne return to the Anghelescu line, who have held and lost it at least three times since the Empire’s formation, and the progression from the stabilising reign of Nikolas IV to the forward-thinking ideals of his eldest son, Emperor Lucien III, was seen by almost all as natural step in the Empire’s development.
//Almost// all.
Less than a year into his tenure, Lucien III fell suddenly ill, swiftly deteriorating into what was reported as a coma. After only a few months, his younger sister Sorivinia was officially sworn in as the new ruler, with the rationale that their people could not wait for him to recover, requiring leadership without delay. Not only did she rapidly undo many of Lucien III’s reforms targeted at alleviating poverty, she also waged a covert campaign to expel many members of the four churches from the Empire’s borders, cutting off her people’s access to the food assistance and education provided by the Hallowed Heart and the medical services offered by the Spectral Court.
The unrepentant inhumanity of her regime, coupled with her deliberate targeting of the servants of the gods, has led to our current unprecedented situation of war between the Empire and the churches. There is no //open// bounty on servants of the gods within the Empire’s borders, but it is widely reported that there is an unofficial one - nevertheless, the church’s forces continue to go where they can, bringing food and care to the downtrodden and starving peasant class of wolven, many of whom only want to be able to survive.
The empress is currently making her first diplomatic appearance outside of the Empire, seemingly lured by the technological marvel newly-implemented in Badjawarrah; it is hoped that this will be a sign that her bloody reign can be tempered, now that the sizzling branding iron that represents the passage of power between rulers has cooled somewhat.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Empress Sorivinia Ellyra Marianna Lilissa Anghelescu__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex103 eq true>>__Dassine ult Sidi__ <<message '+/-'>>Dassine ult Sidi is a distinguished Judicar who currently holds jurisdiction over the area surrounding Badjawarrah (up to and including the stretch of land that marks the border between the Wolven Empire and Coalition lands). She is a lamerran, with a fennec fox soul-familiar named Kit; the fennec is a species endemic to her parents’ homeland, Firdausa, in the northern reaches of the continent above the Equatorial Belt.
Her father, a skilled woodworker who had worked for the churches in Firdausa for many years crafting weapons and armour, was offered a job at the Judiciary temple complex in Tulakar, further south, shortly after Dassine was born, and her family emigrated there but retained close relationships with extended family in Firdausa, visiting often. Dassine herself served the Judiciary in her parents’ homeland for several years before returning to Tulakar following her promotion to Judicar.
She was assigned to the region abutting the Wolven Empire after the outbreak of war between the Empire and the churches; her special skillset focusses heavily on stealth and reconnaissance, which made her invaluable as an aid to sneaking people and supplies across the border (or helping refugees escape from the Empire, alternately).<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex104 eq true>>__Cults__ <<message '+/-'>>Cults are an uncommon, but not exactly unknown, phenomena throughout the continent. The Judiciary’s official definition of cults as organisations includes a number of factors, such as deliberate attempts to isolate members from contact with people outside of the cult, punishment of any members who do not abide by the cult’s specific and often extensive sets of rules and limitations, and exploitation of the lower-ranked members of the cult by those considered superior, often for labour or worldly goods.
The most common type of cult to emerge is generally a so-called “cult of personality,” where the members exalt a charismatic leader to the point of worship, but cults are almost universally characterised by a hatred of the gods. Worship of the gods is not compulsory; They ask only that people live a righteous life and seek not to harm others in order to be rewarded in the afterlife, rather than requiring some level of devotion. One commonly defining feature of cults, however, is the assertion that the gods Themselves are in fact harmful and should be avoided, escaped or even destroyed in some extreme cases.
This is mostly due to the “righteous” expectation that the gods have for us - very few cults are started by people with good intentions, and the “unfairness” of the fact that Nabhuti will judge them for the harms they have committed on people (up to and including burglary and murder) during life is a common grievance amongst people who are drawn to found cults.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Cults__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex105 eq true>>__<<if visited ("ch1s101c") > 0>>First Lieutenant <<endif>>Soillere Dujardin__ <<message '+/-'>><<if visited ("ch1s101c") > 0>>First Lieutenant <<endif>>Soillere Dujardin is a dead human sailor from the long-vanished nation of Autreme. He was once a part of the original crew of the //Will-o’-Wisp//, and has remained with her for longer than 350 years now (not counting the time he spent on board while he was alive).
There are no historical mentions of him that you’ve ever heard of - or of the //Wisp// for that matter-though you can’t say whether records of noteworthy deeds never existed in the first place or were simply destroyed during the lycanthropy plague that resulted in the dissolution of Autreme.<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex106 eq true>>__Captain Bettina d’Arlesce__ <<message '+/-'>>Like Soillere, Captain Elisabettina Laurene Katharina Ylvara d’Arlesce is a dead human sailor from the now-defunct Autremian Royal Navy. She was the captain of the //Will-o’-Wisp// during her lifetime (and up until her death, presumably), and has remained with the ship for more than three centuries now in the Underworld.
As with Soillere once again, there are no historical documents that explicitly mention Captain d’Arlesce or the //Wisp//, but the nations on the eastern side of the Great Bay did have a reputation for extremely bold and daring sailors during the time that she would have been alive - and, knowing Bettina, it would be hard to say for certain that none of the legends of embattled ships braving frozen seas or fighting giant sea creatures could be attributed to her.<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex107 eq true>>__Our Lady__ <<message '+/-'>>The woman on board the //Will-o’-Wisp// known as Our Lady is a mystery. From a purely appearance perspective, if you had to guess at her origins, she seems to be human? <<if (visited ("ch1tol02") > 0) or (visited ("ch1ol101a") > 0)>>However, you don’t know of any other humans who have luminescent eyes… or how anything like that would ever occur.<<endif>>
How she, a living person, found her way to the Underworld, is also a mystery, one that you might have to try and find out about… after all, if she came down here by some entrance or exit, then maybe you can escape the same way.<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex108 eq true>>__The Umnassian Coalition__ <<message '+/-'>>The Umnassian Coalition is a voluntary political commonwealth state that oversees diplomatic and economic negotiations and legislation on behalf of its member-states with foreign entities (such as Thym’an and the Wolven Empire), named for the city where it was first established, Umnassus. There is no official leader of the Coalition; decisions are voted on by the Demarchy, a randomly-selected (via the census undertaken by the Judiciary every seven years) group of citizens representing all of the member-states, including nomadic tribes and independently-aligned family or community groups.
Members of the Demarchy are selected by random (via lots drawn from a pool of possible candidates) in order to avoid a governmental system that is skewed heavily towards people from any walk of life, and serve a one-year term in most cases, before having to wait five years before their names can be returned to the pool of potential governors.
There is no penalty involved in not being a part of the Umnassian Coalition, and any group can leave at any time if they wish - two prominent groups that were invited to the Accords but did not agree to being a part of the commonwealth state are Lamerra, and the indigenous peoples of the southern islands, both of whom wished to remain wholly independent. Relations between Lamerra and the Coalition are extremely friendly, and indeed Lamerra co-signs almost all of the Coalition’s laws and diplomatic statements, but they wished to retain their autonomy in part as a remembrance of what their nation once was.
The Coalition is inhabited by people of all races, and one does not have to be a human either to serve in the Demarchy or to seek membership for their community in the Coalition, but the vast majority of its population are humans, a fact that has held true since its inception.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Umnassian Coalition__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex109 eq true>>__Lamerra__ <<message '+/-'>>The Lamerra of today is a much smaller nation than it once was, but it nonetheless flourishes now, after millennia of recovery. The political system of Lamerra is defined as a democracy, where citizens cast votes in favour of the people that they wish to see elected to the Ecclesia, a council of governors who deliberate over legislation, or to the position of Archon, the nation’s leader.
Competition over places in the Ecclesia can be spirited, and candidates often hold vigorous debates in public forums in order to win support for their election. If elected, members of the Ecclesia meet weekly to discuss political goings-on at a special parliamentary building in Dorrin, the nation’s capital.
There are no restrictions on who can put their names forward to run for positions in the Ecclesia (or indeed, to run for the position of Archon) other than being at least twenty years old, and having lived in Lamerra permanently for at least ten years - you do not have to be lamerran, or even to have been born there.
Elections to select (and possibly replace) members of the Ecclesia are held yearly, while the Archon position is voted on biennially.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Lamerra__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex110 eq true>>__The Wolven Empire__ <<message '+/-'>>The Wolven Empire, as it stands today, is a nigh-uncontrollable political unit of often-clashing groups of wolven, tied together only by either fear or respect for the supreme authority of its empress. It wasn’t always thus; at various points during the Empire’s existence many of its citizens have been quite united, especially within modern memory, but the transition of power from Emperor Lucien III to his younger sister Empress Sorivinia has been a particularly strife-filled one.
In addition to the imperial ruler, the Empire is divided up into numerous tiny fiefdoms (sometimes but not always coinciding with the borders of kingdoms that once existed before the rise of the Empire) ruled over by dukes and barons and primore and earls and marquesses and domnie and seigneurs, all of whom have their own sometimes-competing interests and ambitions. Then there are also mayors and guildmasters and voivode and all manner of other people with their own tiny circles of power… those wolven at the bottom of the pecking order have a large number of masters, each with a gradually widening sphere of influence over their lives.
The Empire periodically goes through expansionist phases as the imperial throne is passed around between various influential families - it is at present much larger than it was when the borders were first drawn during its inception, having expanded all the way north to the border of Thym’an. Many people fear that the chaos in the Empire at present will be merely a prelude to violence further afield, but diplomats are currently still hopeful that things won’t come to that.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Wolven Empire__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex111 eq true>>__Thym’an__ <<message '+/-'>>Thym’an as a nation has borders that are difficult to define; there’s relatively little land involved aboveground, no more than a few cities and some farmland, but by treaty with the Umnassian Coalition they have at least some definitive claim on any area below the earth that can be reached via already-existing tunnels from the underground capital city. As a result, extensive exploratory expeditions are often undertaken upon the discovery of rich mining areas, to determine whether or not they can be reached via Thym’an, before ground-breaking can begin.
In most cases this is more for academic purposes than actually due to arguments over land claims; the thym’ani government is often happy to sell mines that contain no artefacts of their history to either the Demarchy itself or wealthy human entrepreneurs.
The nation of Thym’an is an elected monarchy - unlike the Ecclesia and Archon of Lamerra, who serve yearly or biennial terms, once a monarch of Thym’an is elected, they (usually) serve until their death. The edifice of government, consisting of various ministers tasked with overseeing aspects of the running of the kingdom, will continue to serve during the interim period between the death of the previous monarch and the final tallying of the votes to elect a new one. Unlike the throne itself, these ministers often train or leave instructions for replacements to their position, so in the event that some kind of disaster were to happen that eliminated all ministers as well as the monarch, the government could continue to function while an election was arranged, even if under strain.
Elections run for nearly two years in full, allowing for anyone who wishes to put their name forward to prepare, campaign and gather a base of followers before the actual day of voting; there are often great celebrations held in the aftermath of an election, partially because of the newly-crowned monarch and partially because everyone is by then relieved for it to be over.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Thym’an__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex112 eq true>>__The Hallowed Heart__ <<message '+/-'>>The Hallowed Heart is the church of Accharina, operating mainly withing the boundaries of the living world. The vast majority of the people who serve the Hallowed Heart are teachers or gardeners or farmers - out of all of the churches, the Hallowed Heart has the most focus on mundane, everyday tasks. Perhaps for this reason, unlike the other three, there is no centralised seat of power for the Hallowed Heart from which the Hallowed Preceptor rules; they travel around to where they feel that they are most needed.
The primary focus of the Hallowed Heart on a day-to-day basis is their education system, which provides a free education in literacy, numeracy, science, arts and history to all people on the continent (of any age - there is no required starting age, either old or young, for learning, if people are willing). Private schools also exist, many of which have specialty subjects taught by famous or particularly skilled teachers, but the education provided by the Hallowed Heart is by no means deficient by comparison.
People can also, by arrangement with the church, offer to teach classes on subjects that require specialty knowledge (compensated, of course), such as particular crafts, art styles or advanced-level sciences, if they wish to teach others about their areas of expertise.
The Hallowed Heart also operates services whereby they provide free food and shelter to anyone who is in need of them - for this reason, the churches often have accompanying gardens, which are open to public access mostly year-round (it can depend on the climate and native flora in the region whether some require certain seasons to recuperate).
There have been, traditionally, very few members of the Hallowed Heart who “don the armour,” so to speak, becoming warriors for Accharina; magic-users are the most common, and many find work bringing light to the dark and dangerous places beneath the earth, while both ranged and melee combatants have historically had low numbers except during times of war.
Currently, given the unrest in the Wolven Empire and the empress’s concerted attempts to remove the Hallowed Heart’s safety nets of food and shelter from impoverished wolven citizens, almost all of the warriors in current service have been deployed to the Empire to protect those servants of Accharina who are not trained for battle while they attempt to help the beleaguered citizens.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Hallowed Heart__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex113 eq true>>__The Spectral Court__ <<message '+/-'>>The Spectral Court is the church of Uchenqe, which has a major presence in both the living world and the Underworld. Most of the people who serve the Spectral Court do so in its capacity as a dispensary for medical care; the vast majority of servants of Uchenqe in the living world are doctors, surgeons, nurses or other people involved in the healing of those in need. The Spectral Court’s hospitals offer free medical care to anyone in need, which led in at least some part to the current empress’s attempts to remove the churches from within the Wolven Empire, as she wished to prevent the impoverished citizens of her realm from accessing such aid.
The First Magistrate is the head of the church in the living world, and they oversee the operation of the Spectral Court from the massive temple complex at Wasiyeh, high in the mountains above Thym’an. It is here that most of the cutting-edge medical research that advances our understanding of anatomy and healing is conducted; though research can of course be done anywhere, those who study at Wasiyeh do so with access to facilities and libraries of knowledge that few places in the world can rival.
In stark opposition to the worldly operations of the Spectral Court are the members of the church who become warriors for Uchenqe; they are not often called to battle except during times of war, at least not in life. A large part of their duty to the church will be carried out after dying, where they will serve as protectors of the Underworld in the Court that holds sway there. Many do serve as bodyguards and protectors of the hospitals run by the church in life, and during times of war, such as the current conflict with the Wolven Empire, they are deployed both in defence of Wasiyeh and to protect the wolven citizens attempting to access their church’s care.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Spectral Court__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex114 eq true>>__The Judiciary__ <<message '+/-'>>The Judiciary is the church of Nabhuti, which, like the Hallowed Heart, operates almost exclusively within the living world. Their primary function is that of law enforcement; though the Judiciary does not set laws themselves, or judge or sentence those who are accused of crimes (those tasks are left to local authorities, to ensure that the community feels that they have a say in what does and doesn’t count as a criminal transgression), they make arrests and keep those accused of crimes in custody until they can receive a trial to decide on their sentence (if any).
Unlike those who serve the Hallowed Heart or the Spectral Court, the majority of the servants of Nabhuti are classified as warriors - though members of the Judiciary employ //strictly// non-lethal forms of combat wherever possible. This may seem paradoxical in some ways - surely only the Judgement of Nabhuti awaits murderers and other vicious criminals as an appropriate form of justice - but the Judiciary hold themselves to a higher standard than those who take lives either for money or for power, and an important principle of their creed is the willingness to allow people to strive for redemption if they feel so inclined (such a thing, if done in earnest, can often mitigate the harshness of sentences meted out by the Castigator in the Halls of Punishment, so it is important to those in the Judiciary to allow the possibility).
The head of the church is the High Judicar, who oversees the Judiciary’s running from the temple grounds at Tulakar, in the wetlands that run along the Equatorial Belt to the south of Firdausa. Most members of the Judiciary spend time in service at Tulakar during the course of their career, as a part of their development; being recalled to Tulakar is often a sign either of an upcoming promotion or special assignment, so summons are often met with great excitement.
During times of war, such as the current conflict with the Wolven Empire, the Judiciary’s job becomes much harder; they are technically only tasked with enforcing local laws, which makes their presence within the Empire a transgression of their own principles at present, despite the obvious need of wolven citizens for protection. As such, there are very few members of the Judiciary involved in the war… some aid their fellow warriors from the Hallowed Heart and the Spectral Court, and some few seek to give aid to enclaves of wolven who seek legal independence from the imperial throne, of which there are an increasing number in recent times.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Judiciary__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex115 eq true>>__The Gatherers__ <<message '+/-'>>The Gatherers are the church of Osnach, and are the church that most regular citizens will generally have the least contact with throughout their lives. Unlike the other three churches, the Gatherers do not take any particular interest in the mundane, everyday matters of mortal life - their church serves no ordinary function, and distributes no regular service besides those that it is bound by duty to their god to perform. Unless or until someone finds themself in contact with a lingering spirit or a suspected haunting, most people will have no reason to seek out the Gatherers at all.
Besides when they are called on to investigate the causes of hauntings, many Gatherers do their work in far-flung and often dangerous places - high in the mountains, deep in the wilderness, or down in the cavernous depths of the earth - seeking the souls of unlucky adventurers who never had a chance to return from there. They often visit the sites of battles that have recently taken place, and have a reputation for driving gangs of bandits or other criminals out of business by doggedly stalking those people who regularly take lives in order to prevent them from taking more.
During the time of the Plague, the Gatherers were the only people permitted to cross the quarantine barrier and travel into what later became the Wolven Empire, in search of the no doubt many troubled souls left in the Plague’s wake.
It is a high crime under all legal systems on the continent - including, perhaps strangely, the current regime of the Empire - to impede the Gatherers in their duty; one surmises that even the rich and powerful fear being left to linger outside the borders of the Underworld should one of their enemies decide to take action against them.
The head of the church is the Sentinel Prime, who oversees the running of the Gatherers from Cridhe Teine, far in the north; few people other than the Gatherers travel so far into the northern reaches of the continent, where the days are shorter and darker, and the winters colder and longer. It may seem inefficient to locate the church’s seat of power so far away from where most of its servants operate, but Gatherers are often sent out in small, self-contained bands that disperse across regions and report to a Sentinel or Sentinel Commander, whom the Sentinel Prime trusts to lead without large amounts of interference. They are the least centralised of all four churches, partially for this reason.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Gatherers__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex116 eq true>>__Tehemia Wawatai__ <<message '+/-'>>Tehemia, like you<<if $codex117 eq true>> and Annos<<endif>>, is a survivor of whatever event caused the hole into the Underworld to open up; like you, they were fished out of the Black River, and have suffered some level of amnesia. They are a human, from the southern islands, <<if (visited ("ch1tol06") > 0) or (visited ("ch1t101a") > 0)>>and are a servant of Osnach, <<endif>>but that’s just about everything that you know about them, currently.
How they got here from so far away, why in particular they were included in the ritual that you remember the barest scraps of, and what connection, if any, there is between you, remain unknown.<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex117 eq true>>__Annos__ <<message '+/-'>>Annos, like you<<if $codex116 eq true>> and Tehemia<<endif>>, is a survivor of whatever event caused the hole into the Underworld to open up; like you, he was fished out of the Black River, and has amnesia. <<if $race eq "thym’ani">>Quite a distressing amount of amnesia, actually; it puts your own memory loss into fairly mitigating context.<<endif>> He’s a thym’ani, and has clearly spent a lot of time living underground, judging by the metallic sheen of his skin, but that’s most of what you know about him summed up, for now at least.
He seems to have suffered the worst wounds out of all of the survivors - for what reason, you also don’t know - but he’s currently recovered enough to wake up, which is a good sign. If there’s any connection between you and him that led to both of you ending up involved in the ritual, neither of you can remember it at the present time.<</message>>
<<endif>>\
<<if $codex118 eq true>>__Queen Damya__ <<message '+/-'>>Queen Damya is the currently presiding elected monarch of Thym’an, who took the throne just a little under six years ago by the count of the standard calendar. Despite coming from a family of wealthy merchants, she is a populist figure, having spent much of her pre-coronation life working with archaeological expeditions in efforts to unearth lost thym’ani history.
Like many political candidates in recent memory, Damya spoke to the thym’ani population’s desire to return to their pre-Fall heights; after she was elected, the streets of Thym’an were filled with revellers chanting “we will rise again!” in celebration.<<if $race eq "thym’ani">>
You haven’t had a chance to return to Thym’an all that often during the years since her election, so you can’t say much else about her, but she was certainly popular.<<endif>><</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Queen Damya__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex119 eq true>>__Vanator__ <<message '+/-'>>Vanator, like Our Lady, is something of a mystery. Like her, you have no idea how he ended up in the Underworld - he’s been quite reluctant to explain much about himself or what’s happened to him so far. About all you really know about him for sure is that he’s alive, but didn’t fall through the hole into the Underworld like you did<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>, and that he and the captain don’t get along very well<<endif>>.<<if visited ("ch1v102b") > 0>>
You know that his best estimate of how long he’s been down here is since sometime after First Fruits, which was roughly eight months ago, and that he’s having trouble keeping track of how much time he’s spent down here.<<endif>><<if visited ("ch1v102a") > 0>>
You know that he seem to be having trouble getting out of the Underworld, and for some reason that he won’t tell you, can’t leave the way he came - which also means that //you// can’t leave that way, unfortunately.<<endif>>
And that seems to be about all that you’re going to be able to get out of him, for now.<</message>>
<<endif>>\<<if $codex201 eq true>>__Clockwork__ <<message '+/-'>>Clockwork, in general, forms much of the basis for technological advancement in the modern Wolven Empire. Whereas humanity’s interest in steam-powered technology comes from a desire to relieve the necessity of manual labour by creating a sustainable energy source to turn wheels or push levers or some other action in the place of a specific person operating a device, the wolven interest in clockwork largely stems from the opposite attitude.
Steam-powered devices, in order to make them safe, usually release their energy (and therefore perform their functions) at a regular pace, tempo or strength. Devices powered by wind-up clockwork gears, however, can often be improved, extended or sped up by the application of more direct force to the winding mechanism, an area in which the wolven undoubtedly excel.
A clockwork tank can move as fast and as far as the wolven inside turning the gears can make it, and, unlike a steam engine, they can also fight back if targeted for destruction.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Clockwork__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex202 eq true>>__Armour__ <<message '+/-'>>These days, armour as it once was, including lamellar, chain, scale and plate, is largely obsolete. The advancement of weapons technology has left armour much less of a necessity than it once used to be, and so in today’s society it is now considered largely symbolic - an indicator of a servant of the gods, rather than an outright protective measure. Of course, for these people who serve their churches, the armour is rarely //pointless//. A gorget will still aid in keeping a drunken assailant from knocking all of one’s teeth out, regardless of the advancements made in firearm technology, and a breastplate at the very least cannot leave one in a worse position than being shot in the chest unarmoured.
The degree and style of the armour worn is largely personal; often it will vary based on cultural background and position in the church. Many servants of the gods commission the design and forging of specialised armour pieces for their protégés upon graduation into the church’s formal ranks, seeing it as something of a rite of passage - among the magic-using classes in particular, the armour can often be highly decorative in nature or even strictly ornamental.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Armour__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex203 eq true>>__Astronomy__ <<message '+/-'>>Astronomy is a common and beloved pastime of many people within the Umnassian Coalition; it obviously holds less ubiquity among thym’ani, many of whom grow up with no view of the sky, and the study of the stars has always been considered somewhat frivolous and unimportant in the Empire (even the pre-Empire nations packed along the eastern side of the Great Bay largely held that astronomy was useful only for navigation by sea), but many of the various human cultures find a common interest in stargazing.
Extensive documentation and star maps exist throughout the continent, detailing the different stars that are visible during different times of the year, and at various different places. There is a Guild of Astronomers in Umnassus which accepts members of any level of skill, citing only enthusiasm as a requirement for joining.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Astronomy__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex204 eq true>>__Breech-loading Weapons__ <<message '+/-'>>Breech-loading weapons are a type of firearm that splits open somewhere behind the barrel in order to be reloaded. Historically, firearms were loaded via the muzzle, a time-intensive process that made reloading difficult (if not impossible) to do in the midst of a firefight; it was common practice to carry half a dozen or more pistols for anyone who wanted to be able to fire multiple shots rapidly.
Breech-loading weapons make up the totality of small firearms manufactured legally in the Umnassian Coalition (some larger weapons, particularly artillery, are still muzzle-loaded); despite the Wolven Empire’s advances into repeating firearms, the Demarchy consistently votes against authorising the production of bolt-action weapons, mostly citing safety concerns.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Breech-loading Weapons__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex205 eq true>>__Bolt-action Weapons__ <<message '+/-'>>Bolt-action weapons are a type of firearm whereby a bolt (or lever) on the side of the weapon can be pulled or rotated to remove spent shell-casings and prime a new shot almost instantaneously, creating a type of firearm that for the first time is capable of being loaded with ammunition for more than one single shot at once (a repeating firearm).
With the exception of some specific thym’ani weapons, bolt-action firearms (usually rifles) are primarily manufactured in the Wolven Empire; various human weapons manufacturing companies have petitioned to allow the Coalition’s laws regarding weapons production to be broadened to include bolt-action weapons in their remit, but the Demarchy consistently votes against such legislation, mostly as a matter of public safety.
The sale and manufacture of bolt-action weapons is illegal within the borders of the Umnassian Coalition (and, by proxy, Lamerra), and the wolven protectiveness over their technology has meant that no significant underground market reproducing them has sprung up - firearms manufacturers continue their petitions to the Demarchy almost every week without fail, however.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Bolt-action Weapons__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex206 eq true>>__Thym’ani Laser Weapons__ <<message '+/-'>>Not much is known about the development of laser weapons, even among the thym’ani - like so much of thym’ani technology, the knowledge of how to manufacture laser weapons was lost in the Fall, and all of the laser weapons in circulation today are leftovers from a time before the thym’ani crash-landed on the continent. That they have largely lasted for such a long time is a testament to the quality of their craftsmanship, but they //have// been known, especially within the past few decades, to break down and become irreparable if subjected to heavy use.
It is illegal to sell, exchange or gift a thym’ani laser weapon under any circumstances, in every currently-encountered nation; the government of Thym’an has a generous buyback scheme in place whereby they will purchase any that are found or owned by someone, if they do not wish to keep the weapon in question, which many people these days do not. Travelling with them requires specialist permits when crossing borders <<if visited ("ch1tc") eq 0>>(Enarra’s rifle has an entire page of paperwork all to itself) <<endif>>and undeclared laser weapons carry heavy fines if discovered.
There are rumours that the government of Thym’an is hard at work attempting to reconstruct the method by which laser weapons were manufactured, but in general it seems to be a lower-level focus for them than reclaiming other lost knowledge such as history and accounts of their origins.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Thym’ani Laser Weapons__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex207 eq true>>__Soul-familiars__ <<message '+/-'>>Soul-familiars are a magical phenomenon endemic to those with lamerran blood; it is unknown why in particular the trait is hereditary, but it does seem to be in some way tied to a person’s inherent ability to use elemental magic. If a person has one human or thym’ani parent, and one lamerran, that person will usually only have a soul-familiar if they also display an affinity for magic.
This can be partially explained by (and contributes to) the best guess at the explanation for how soul-familiars first came to be; it is thought, currently, that before the catastrophe that destroyed Lamerra, the people who lived there generally had much stronger magical abilities than are exhibited today, and their soul-familiars were born when their magical abilities manifested physically, thus weakening their own innate power, as the price of their survival.
Though all of the soul-familiars belonging to the original survivors of the cataclysm were aquatic, water-dwelling familiars are considered quite rare these days, and usually represent someone who will have a great love for the water in some form or another. The appearance of someone’s soul-familiar is often said to be a reflection of their soul, a kind of glimpse into who they are as a person - it is especially common for lamerrans who grow up to serve one of the gods to have a soul-familiar consistent with their particular god of choice’s iconography.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Soul-familiars__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex208 eq true>>__Telepathy__ <<message '+/-'>>Telepathy is overall a fairly rare magical discipline; while some types of magic, like healing and telekinesis, can have some level of overlap between the domains of the gods and even sometimes non-divine elemental magic, telepathy is unique to Nabhuti and Her aspect of Mind. The more common type of telepathy used by members of the Judiciary involves “sending” thoughts and images to someone else’s mind, which can be a helpful method of silent communication between wardens, but some do, although rarely, have the ability to pick up on and read the thoughts of others who are nearby (though usually they must be able to see the person in question).
The telepathy demonstrated by wardens is all a lesser version of Nabhuti’s own powers, of course, as She reads the mind of souls who have died during the Judgement, to determine whether their lives were righteous or not.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Telepathy__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex209 eq true>>__The Black River__ <<message '+/-'>>Not much concrete information is known about the Black River, given its location in the Underworld, but it is described as having an enchantment placed on it; the touch of its waters can strip the memories of life from dead souls. Though this is occasionally applied in order to remove the memories of specific traumas from souls who suffered greatly during life, via rituals conducted by members of the Spectral Court, the river is also an integral part of the reincarnation cycle.
When souls are ready to return to the gods, and move onto their next life, the Black River removes all of their memories, leaving their soul unburdened and ready to live again.
It is not actually known what effect (either temporary or permanent) the waters of the Black River would have on people who are still alive, for somewhat obvious reasons.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Black River__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex210 eq true>>__Accharina__ <<message '+/-'>>Accharina is a goddess whose church is primarily concerned with material matters in the living world; though much of Her own magic is conducted in the Underworld, Her servants bring aid and succour to the living rather than focussing solely on Her works.
Her divine domain is the aspect of Light - the magic wielded by Her servants is frequently coloured in a shade of glowing white or yellow, or other brassy hues. This light magic can be used in many ways (primarily, of course, for illumination), including helping crops to grow and bringing warmth to cold areas, more combat-applicable techniques such as shielding allies and blinding enemies, and in some cases even healing.
Accharina’s part in the reincarnation cycle is as a gentle guide and a motherly mentor; it is Her job to guide new souls to their place and time on earth to be reborn, which naturally has great influence over the course that their lives will take. She also, in theory, shapes new souls in the event that there are not enough, but it is not known whether this is a common occurrence.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Accharina__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex211 eq true>>__Uchenqe__ <<message '+/-'>>Uchenqe, unlike Accharina, has a church presence that is roughly equal in scope in both the living world and the Underworld. As the ruler of the Underworld, He oversees much of the daily running of that realm, and His Spectral Knights are responsible for keeping order in the way that servants of the Judiciary are in the living world.
His divine domain is the aspect of Blood, the physical embodiment of our living flesh, and as such this is the reason that many of His servants are incredibly proficient healers. Even those who are not experts at healing others are often skilled at healing themselves; it is said of knights that the only way to strike them down is to pierce their heart or remove their head on a particularly bad day, and even then only if you’re lucky.
Uchenqe plays no immediate part in the cycle of reincarnation other than overseeing the general comings and goings of the Underworld, but it is said that He can exert some control over the waters of the Black River and which memories they remove, and can be persuaded by His servants to do so for souls who suffer greatly under the burden of memories from their life that they wish to forget.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Uchenqe__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex212 eq true>>__Nabhuti__ <<message '+/-'>>Nabhuti, like Accharina, does much of Her own magical work in the Underworld, while Her followers do their work on Her behalf in the living world. Members of the Judiciary do their best to maintain order and peace across the lands where they have a presence, and Nabhuti Herself is there to Judge those who do wrong once their time in the living world has ended.
Nabhuti’s divine domain is the aspect of Mind, the window into our thoughts and feelings and motivations, which is why Her servants can sometimes be granted abilities in telepathy, but more often magical skill in telekinesis and manifestation, the art of willing things to be a certain way other than they are. This can have myriad combat applications, limited only by the imagination of the user (just as it can in non-combat situations, given the nature of the magic).
Nabhuti’s part in the reincarnation cycle is in making sure that those who do wrongs during their life spend time atoning for their actions. She does not decide their punishments (that duty falls to Timorós, the Castigator), but She separates the souls that require atonement from those who do not, sending the former to the Halls of Punishment and allowing the latter to enter the Underworld.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Nabhuti__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex213 eq true>>__Osnach__ <<message '+/-'>>Osnach is unique among the gods in that He Himself does not enact much magic within the boundaries of the Underworld; instead, His work is mostly done in the living world, and in the strange in-between realm that is neither the living world nor the world of the dead traversed by spirits. He guides the willing spirits of the dead to the Dais to be Judged by Nabhuti, and sends His servants in the living world to attend to those spirits who are unwilling or trapped somehow. He is also said to have control over the time and place of someone’s death; when people pray in fear to be saved, it is mostly to Osnach, at least among those who do not serve any particular church.
Osnach’s divine domain is the aspect of Shadow - the magic wielded by His servants is frequently black or some other dark colour (shades of purple and blue are common), if not seeming to be made of moving darkness itself. His magic can be used in numerous ways, the most common of which is usually to shield the user from the sight of others, but it has other less ambivalent applications - there is little more terrifying than the grip of engulfing darkness out of nowhere on a sunny day, and not much that is more disconcerting than your enemy leaping from shadow to shadow like a wraith.
Osnach plays no direct part in the reincarnation cycle; His role is, essentially, to make sure that souls can find their way to enter it.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Osnach__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex214 eq true>>__Witchlights__ <<message '+/-'>>Witchlights are a common type of divine magic, one that can be performed by almost anyone who serves one of the four churches. They are, in the layman’s eye, a small glowing ball of light made from magic, in a variety of colours - in technical terms they are a manifestation of the creator’s faith. Those who believe strongly create larger and more luminous witchlights, and the colour of the light is determined by which god they serve; those who serve Accharina often create white or orange witchlights, while those who serve Uchenqe tend towards silver or purple, those who serve Nabhuti favour blue or green, and those who serve Osnach often produce red or yellow lights.
In historical times, they were mostly used as a form of identification, in the times before the establishment of the organised versions of the churches that we know today, so that servants of the gods could prove themselves to each other. However, at some point during the intervening time, it was discovered that they made quite good light sources; they can’t be extinguished by liquid, or blown out by wind, and since they’re not really a flame, they can’t ignite flammable gases or use up oxygen (making them particularly invaluable for use underground).
They will remain in the palm of the caster’s hand unless specifically placed - when placed inside a lantern or similar other containment vessel like the cage hanging from the bowsprit of the //Will-o’-Wisp//, they drift and bob around, bouncing off the edges occasionally, as though floating in water.
In general, they last for as long as the caster’s faith remains (or until they will it to disappear), or until the caster dies, though there are tales of particularly devout or beloved members of the various churches whose witchlights still burn to this day.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Witchlights__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex215 eq true>>__Medicine__ <<message '+/-'>>For a long time, there was a stark divide between the spheres of “doctor” and “surgeon,” and the one didn’t always look kindly on the other; needing the services of a doctor was often regarded as a sign that your surgeon hadn’t been very good, and vice versa. It was also something of a point of contention that surgeons were guided by Uchenqe and needed to pledge their lives to him, while doctors could be anybody, from any walk of life, a fact that had both advantages and disadvantages.
For the layman, a doctor was who you visited if you had dizziness, nausea, pain, congestion or other similar ailments, and a surgeon was who you went to see if you’d broken bones or were bleeding - although certain maladies could require the services of both, of course.
Gradually over the course of the past several centuries, however, research done at Wasiyeh made great strides at identifying the tiny parts of the body in the nerves and brain that had effects on certain kinds of illnesses, and it became more widely known that the jobs of the doctor and the surgeon were a lot more connected than previously thought. The two careers remain separate still, largely because they require a lot of different specialty knowledge, but many doctors are also servants of Uchenqe these days, and the combined knowledge of many years’ worth of doctors using herbs and tinctures to ease sickness and the skill of Uchenqe’s servants has led to the curing of conditions in recent decades that were once thought to be incurable.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Medicine__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex216 eq true>>__Thym’ani Skyships__ <<message '+/-'>>Skyships, like a lot of thym’ani technology, are a marvel that people no longer have the knowledge to recreate. The ones most commonly seen in this day and age are small, fast crafts, which usually only carry one or two people at most and can reach speeds that would terrify most passengers, but there are some skyships that are much larger, big enough to carry dozens of people at once. The skyships that originally brought the thym’ani to the continent before they crashed were large enough to carry the original members of their entire race.
Their engines use a process that is not yet fully understood to convert water into a kind of power source, driving turbines and other mechanisms that cause jets of flame to be emitted (this being what provides the energy to move the craft). There have been various attempts (usually by human entrepreneurs) to recreate the same or similar types of engine, often with wildly unsuccessful results.
Over the years, many resources have been dedicated by the thym’ani government to the search for the original skyships, thus far with no success.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Thym’ani Skyships__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex217 eq true>>__Elemental Magic__ <<message '+/-'>>Elemental magic, unlike divine magic, does not require any particular level of faith, nor any kind of pledge to any of the gods. For this reason, many rich human and wolven families have spent a lot of their wealth on trying to determine if the aptitude for it can be taught, or if it is merely inborn in people.
Elemental magic use has been thus far found to be endemic only to lamerrans; those from other nations who are able to use elemental magic almost always have a lamerran progenitor within a few generations from whom they inherited the trait. It is not known why in particular the kingdom of Lamerra had such a high concentration of elemental magic-users prior to the Sundering - nowadays, of course, it is assumed that it is linked to their soul-familiars and their emergence after the kingdom fell into the seas.
As the name implies, elemental magic deals with magic based on the four elements (fire, air, water, and earth) as opposed to divine magic, which focusses on the four divine aspects (light, shadow, mind and blood). Another key difference between the two different types of magic is that elemental magic can be imbued into certain inanimate objects using periapts of magical power - for some time in the Wolven Empire it was considered the height of fashion for one’s rapier to be enchanted with the ability to be enflamed as though doused in pitch, and various nobles would pay high prices indeed for the periapts required.
Most lamerrans can perform at least a little elemental magic regarding each of the four elements, but those who are particularly skilled can join a special forum in Dorrin in order to continue developing their skills, or to help teach others.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Elemental Magic__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex218 eq true>>__Sacrificial Magic__ <<message '+/-'>>You don’t know much at all about this kind of magic; Our Lady has said only that it’s a kind of magic that allows the users to steal magical power from the gods using the blood of others as a conduit… a kind of sacrificial offering.
She seems to be assuming that this is how the hole into the Underworld was ripped open, and it does seem to match with what little you remember of what happened. You have no idea how to combat this type of magic, or where someone could have learned it, but it’s certainly an indication that the people who did this are dangerous indeed.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Sacrificial Magic__@@
<<endif>>\<<if $codex301 eq true>>__Badjawarrah__ <<message '+/-'>>Badjawarrah is a city (nominally a city-state) that acquiesces to the standards laid out by the Umnassian Accords, and therefore forms a part of the Umnassian Coalition; though it technically holds jurisdiction over farmlands and bushland nearby, many of the families in those regions pledge independent acquiescence to the Accords with no regard to Badjawarrah’s inclusion, and the city leadership rarely undertakes any kind of governance outside the city limits.
Badjawarrah is renowned for being an unusually rich and opulent city - its position just near the border to the Wolven Empire attracts many traders from both the Empire and elsewhere in the Coalition, and it is also favourably positioned in relation to Thym’an and Lamerra, via road and sea-ways respectively.
Lately, Badjawarrah has become an international sensation due to the implementation of a citywide steam power grid, capable of powering artificial lights and other specially-crafted steam devices that can interface with the power mechanisms in every house and building, free of charge. Many other cities in the Coalition, most notably Umnassus, plan to follow suit when possible; Badjawarrah has a reputation for innovative technological and artistic developments, due in part to its population’s surplus wealth.
Both Badjawarrah and many of the nomadic groups living in the surrounds have policies in place regarding providing shelter and safe-haven for refugees fleeing from the chaos in the Empire.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Badjawarrah__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex302 eq true>>__The Underworld__ <<message '+/-'>>The Underworld, so named because of the legend that states that it lies beneath the earth, is the place where all souls return to after death (or, if they linger on earth, after being found and released by members of the Gatherers). Not much is known in particular about the landscape or layout of the Underworld, due to the fact that it cannot be visited casually - it is widely accepted, at least, that there are temples dedicated to the gods dotted throughout, and that it is probably of an alien nature to the living.
Other than the temples, few points of interest in the Underworld are known for sure; among those that are confirmed include the Dais, where souls are judged on their deeds in life by Nabhuti, the Black River, an enchanted waterway that can remove the memories of souls who wish to forget their lives, and the Halls of Punishment, where souls who have done evil during their lifetimes face punishments tailored for them by the being known as Timorós, the Castigator.
Rumours persist that there are entrances to the Underworld hidden in the living world, but if so, they remain undiscovered - or, at the very least, secret.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Underworld__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex303 eq true>>__The //Will-o’-Wisp//__ <<message '+/-'>>The //Will-o’-Wisp// (or the //Wisp// for short) is a square-rigged, three-masted frigate registered to the now long-defunct nation of Autreme. Like many vessels from the period, the //Wisp// is referred to by she/her pronouns, though unlike a great number of other similar ships, she doesn’t actually sport a female figurehead like the kind that is thought to have given rise to the practice. Instead, in place of a figurehead, a wedge-shaped metal blade is affixed to the bow, for use as a ramming device.
Both her timbers and her sails are a shade of black, giving her a very distinctive look, aided by the metal cage containing a powerful witchlight that is hung from the bowsprit. <<if visited ("ch1s101b") > 0>>According to Soillere, the //Wisp’s// unusual appearance was a deliberate choice by her builders; she apparently saw great use as a blockade-runner, slipping between the lines of men-o’-war in the dark and giving off a ghostly impression to frighten away any who might confront her. <<endif>>At full capacity, she could carry up to 300 crew, and a complement of 40 cannons, as well as substantial cargo - among the largest loads of her time. She measures on average 10 metres in the beam, and a total of 52 metres from tip to tail.
It is currently unknown how she found her way to the Underworld.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The //Will-o’-Wisp//__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex304 eq true>>__Autreme__ <<message '+/-'>>Once one of the many small, warring monarchical nations packing the eastern reach of the continent beyond the Great Bay, Autreme no longer exists, having suffered the same fate as all of its once-enemies: being absorbed into the Wolven Empire by force after the lycanthropy plague devastated the region.
Not many records of the nation remain, few having survived the Plague and the rise of the Empire, but documentation from human and lamerran ships at the time seems to indicate that Autreme was never one of the great powers of its age, despite its widespread naval presence. This is presumably why very few Autremian cultural remnants can be found throughout the Empire as well, unlike their Lencelais and Sommitorian counterparts.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Autreme__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex305 eq true>>__The Umnassian Accords__ <<message '+/-'>>213 years ago now, by the count of the standard calendar, the Umnassian Accords were signed by a group of more than 35 nations and at least 80 independently-aligned nomadic or tribal groups, declaring the formation of the Umnassian Coalition. It was a momentous occasion; peace was declared between warring Boskir and Lehoja, and plans for the world’s first demarchic government were drawn up, based loosely on the democratic processes in use by Lamerra at the time.
A common language (originally for trade, hence the name) was selected, the language that was in the most common usage between all of the signing member-states - what we know as Trade today began as a blended language from a linguistic family used by several groups of nomadic tribes from the Julngu nation, mutually intelligible with other languages from the family.
The signing of the Accords is celebrated annually, and its position in the last week of the year gives the holiday a symbolic reputation as being an auspicious time to start new ventures, as the cycle of the year is about to begin anew.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Umnassian Accords__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex306 eq true>>__The Sundering__ <<message '+/-'>>Sometime close to three millennia ago (the exact date is unknown, due to the lack of a standard calendar at the time, and the general upheaval in the decades following), the continent was shaped more or less like a solid block - there were outlying islands, of course, but there was no Great Bay, and the land that was once in its place was a wide and prosperous nation known as Lamerra, home to humans like any other, except that they had an unusually high rate of elemental magic-users in their ranks.
And then the Sundering happened.
A titanic explosion rocked the continent, sending chunks of earth flying across huge distances, and the rest of what had once been Lamerra descended under the ocean, swallowed by the sea. The entire continent was blanketed in what is described as a kind of blackened, ashen cloud of dust for up to five or so years following, and with the cloud blotting out the sun, climates shifted wildly within that span of time, leading to unseasonal cold and in turn to famine and mayhem (hence the lack of accurate records from the period).
And then, perhaps another five years later, a group of surviving lamerrans - numbering in what is estimated at the mid-to-high thousands: not //all//, certainly not enough to avoid being an utterly tragic loss of life, but some, at least - emerged from the seas of the Great Bay, very much alive. The first generation of lamerrans, now considered distinct from humans, all had aquatic soul-familiars, who ensured that they could survive underwater in the wake of the cataclysm; it is said that the water-dwelling creatures imparted their ability to breathe underwater to their lamerran counterparts, but this is hard to confirm given that soul-familiars do not have the same kind of magical connection with their hosts any longer, if they ever once did.
Accounts vary widely on many points of exactly what happened; some say that there was no prior warning, while others claim that the lamerrans knew a disaster was coming but not what to do about it; some say that most magic-users survived, while others believe that the survivors were primarily magic-users concerned with the element of water; some say that the magic inside the lamerrans reacted instinctively to produce the soul-familiars in an effort to survive, while others claim that a ritual or spell was performed beforehand in order to create them.
What we do know for sure, is that all that remains of Lamerra’s once-lavish and widespread society is a cluster of city-states in the hills on the western side of the Great Bay, a monument to what once was.
Occasionally, explorers (though usually human ones; lamerrans are not always keen to go digging up the ghosts of their past) set off into the Great Bay in the hopes of finding ruins or remnants of the Lamerra of old, for the sakes of science and history, but none have thus far been particularly successful. There are also wild tales that entire communities of lamerran survivors did not indeed emerge from the waters at all, but instead remain living at the bottom of the sea… but these stories are even less substantiated than stories of crumbled ruins. Whatever the case, the ocean keeps her secrets well.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Sundering__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex307 eq true>>__The Great Bay__ <<message '+/-'>>The Great Bay was the name given to the sudden expanse of ocean that flooded into the area where once the ancient kingdom of Lamerra had been. For quite some time directly following the sinking of Lamerra, there was said to be no fish or other living creatures in the waters of the Great Bay (possibly because creatures pulled into the bay by the waves during the initial catastrophe did not survive being rapidly flung around, and possibly because the survivors, now living underwater with their newly-formed soul-familiars, will have needed to eat, and fish will have been their most accessible form of sustenance).
Now, of course, the waters teem with various species of fish, turtle, crab, shellfish, dolphin, whale, seal and others too numerous to list; life, as is its wont, adapted to the new environment in a way that defies all expectation.
Through some quirk of the currents, the waters on the western side of the Great Bay, along what is now Lamerra’s shores, are warmer and more gentle than those on the eastern edge, abutting the Wolven Empire.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Great Bay__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex308 eq true>>__The Plague__<<if $ingametw eq true>> Please be advised that there is a trigger warning for graphic body horror for the contents of this codex.<<endif>> <<message '+/-'>>Around 280 years ago (the exact start date is not recorded; the first case of the disease, if it was ever known, is not a piece of information that the Wolven Empire felt worthy of preserving), a horrifying medical condition began spreading throughout the tightly-packed kingdoms on the eastern side of the Great Bay, a medical condition that reduced many people to slavering barely-sentient beasts, and gave most the ability to transform into gigantic wolf-creatures. A combination of the lower hygiene standards in most of those kingdoms compared to elsewhere on the continent, and the callous lack of regard of the many nation’s monarchies for their lower-class citizens, meant that containment of the disease proved utterly impossible.
Within no more than six months, everyone east of the quarantine barrier erected by the thym’ani had been infected.
Luckily, however, the disease was not often fatal, despite the profound upheaval that it caused - death was far more likely to result from fighting or irrational behaviour than from the disease itself - and once the first generation or so of people infected grew old (or not, as the case may be) and died, the later generations, now known as the wolven, were much more stable and had far fewer health complications than their forebears.
Medical records from the time of the plague itself give terrifying glimpses into what life was like for the newly-turned: bones that would break and then heal and re-break every time they transformed, new teeth erupting from their jawbones haphazardly, such that some people could barely close their mouths, let alone eat, and horrific skin conditions caused by either extremely rapid hair growth or the trauma of transformations. Wolven alive today are no doubt grateful that their own lycanthropy is highly stabilised by comparison.
The origin of the disease, like the date of its first appearance, remains unknown. There are, perhaps fortunately, no other currently-known pathogens that have the ability to grant their victims shapeshifting powers, and it is hard to imagine how such a thing could have evolved without getting the attention of scholars first.
The disease that is most closely-related to the lycanthropy plague is currently thought to be rabies.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Plague__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex309 eq true>>__The Fall__ <<message '+/-'>>“The Fall” is the name used as a shorthand by academics and historians to describe the event that caused the thym’ani to crash-land on the continent, though it has drifted into somewhat common usage in more modern times given Thym’an’s current focus on historical restoration. To historians it has always been a descriptor of the sudden gulf of primary written sources and abrupt shift in the historical record, but to modern thym’ani it has a meaning closer to that of the end of a golden age, a literal fall from grace.
“We will rise again!” has been a popular statement of political intent among those running for the seat of Thym’an’s elected monarchy within the past half-century or so.
Little is known in terms of actual detail about what caused the Fall, and even less is known about the events that preceded it; we know that the thym’ani came from far away, and have advanced technology that scholars are still unable to replicate… and that’s about it. It has been considered the life’s work of //many// thym’ani scholars to discover any concrete answers that they can about pre-Fall thym’ani culture, but mainly with extremely limited success.
If there are indeed any intact ships left from the crash-landing, containing information about the Fall and what came before it, they must be buried deep within the earth, far below Thym’an.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Fall__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex310 eq true>>__The Southern Islands__ <<message '+/-'>>The southern islands (sometimes also referred to as “the islands in the south”) are a group of two dozen or so islands of varying sizes arranged around one longer island that is astonishingly straight and arranged precisely in a line pointing north-south. The reason for this is thought to be a confluence of volcanic activity in the area, but this is largely academic guesswork given that no studies can be undertaken of the soil or water.
The southern islands lie so far to the south that they were already far away in the estimation of sailors from Lamerra before the Sundering; now, with the additional length of the Great Bay separating them from human society on the mainland, they are even more distant.
Representatives of the inhabitants of the southern islands attended the Umnassian Accords, but chose not to join the Umnassian Coalition, feeling that their needs were too disparate to those of people living on the mainland of the continent - it was also a significant journey for them to make, and they had concerns that those selected by lot to serve on the Demarchy so far away from the rest of their people would be unhappy. As with Lamerra, there was of course no penalty involved in the peoples of the southern islands choosing not to be included in the Coalition; indeed, several laws were written into the Coalition’s founding creed at their request.
First, it is illegal for anyone to deliberately sail to the southern islands without being accompanied by a willing indigenous inhabitant (an exception of course being made for shipwreck victims or the like, or errors such as being lost (though deliberately attempting to remain after being advised of their location is still a crime)), and, secondly, there were to be no names for the southern islands assigned by anyone other than the indigenous inhabitants. “The southern islands” is merely a description, rather than a name; the islands all have their own names, in the various indigenous tongues of the inhabitants, but they are considered not for use by people from the mainland.
People from the southern islands do travel to the mainland occasionally, often out of a sense of adventure or exploration, or to barter for luxury or exotic goods. They tend to speak a version of Trade that is quite heavily accented, and can be hard to understand when speaking quickly, but nonetheless the language remains in some circulation, passed down from teachers to students for anyone who wishes to sail to the mainland to (what else) trade.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Southern Islands__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex311 eq true>>__The Standard Calendar__ <<message '+/-'>>There was, historically, no “standard” calendar in usage across the entirety of the continent before the formation of the Umnassian Coalition - indeed, how could there be? Nations north of the Equatorial Belt experienced entirely different seasons to the vast majority of the continent’s inhabitants, and people living underground in Thym’an had no way of judging by weather what time of year it was likely to be.
Searching for a standard way to measure the passage of time that would make sense to people living everywhere, the deliberators at the Accords eventually settled on the moon (still not useful for the thym’ani, of course, but they were not in attendance, and there seemed to be no better option). Time is kept by counting the days between full moons, beginning with the first full moon in the season of summer (in the majority of the continent south of the Equatorial Belt, that is).
There are twelve full moons in a full year more often than not, so the moons were originally counted strictly by number, but when Thym’an adopted the calendar as well, they named the moons after their defunct ordinal numbering system, a remnant of a time when they commonly used a base-12 form of mathematics. These names spread across the continent as a convenient labelling system, in order from one to twelve: Gestun, Masnam, Kikamun, Raba’um, Hamisun, Sadasium, Sana’um, Samnam, Tasa’ium, Esrun, Itenserum, and Sinsarium.
Roughly every three years there is a thirteenth moon in the full cycle of the year; these years are considered to be lucky, and a celebration is held on the night of the thirteenth moon (this one is known as Salagestun).
There are a number of other holidays scattered throughout the year, but observance of these is usually regional, and very few are widespread enough to be considered “standard.”<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The Standard Calendar__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex312 eq true>>__Srivyñe, the Imperial Capital__ <<message '+/-'>>Srivyñe is the capital of the Wolven Empire, a city that is equal parts incredible opulence and devastating poverty. The rich live in marble manors with private gardens and entire families of servants, patrolled around the clock by armed guards, while the poor squat in ramshackle shanty towns erected wherever they will fit, the wooden buildings under constant threat of collapsing as the mud underneath them shifts. Its streets are paved in marble and gold, except in the places where there are no streets and all that there is to walk on is muck and mess.
The climate in the region is extremely wet and cold, and miserable chilly rain is very common year-round - however, due to its very defensible position high in the mountains, the capital tends not to move from Srivyñe, even when the imperial throne changes hands to families from the cities of Pallazilo or Selledor in historical Sommitoro or Lenceaux respectively.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Srivyñe, the Imperial Capital__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex313 eq true>>__Umnassus__ <<message '+/-'>>Umnassus is best known for being the city where the accords that created the eponymous Umnassian Coalition were signed, but it is a flourishing city in the present, as well as its storied history. It sits in a small basin located between what is now the sea (though it was once merely a great river, before the Sundering) and a wide, flat desert, which is where many of its citizens make their living.
An extremely wide variety of plants, both flowering and edible, grow in the desert and are gathered for food or to sell, while other citizens keep wandering cattle herds that provide meat, cheese, leather and other products, and still others concentrate on fishing. The huge abundance of food in the region led to a comfortable wealth amongst the populace, which in turn led to widespread leisure pursuits such as science and the arts; it is often speculated that the original forays into concepts like mathematics and philosophy on the continent took place in Umnassus, at least south of the Equatorial Belt.
The climate in Umnassus varies between extremes, sometimes flooding and then sometimes experiencing little to no rainfall at all the next year - the citizens almost universally grow rooftop gardens to shield their homes from the sun, and most (if not all) buildings are built with cooling ventilation for the daytime and summer, and heated floors for the night and the winter.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Umnassus__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex314 eq true>>__Dorrin__ <<message '+/-'>>The city of Dorrin is nominally the capital of Lamerra, though it rarely calls itself by such a title, given all of the lamerran cities that were lost during the Sundering that would have had better claims to it. It is an extremely old city, not just in terms of sheer number of years since it was built, but in its ambience; many ancient buildings have been carefully preserved, in order to keep from losing what little of their history remains.
Geographically, Dorrin is located on a mountainous slope overlooking sandy beaches and the clear blue waters of the ocean - fish and other seafood is a staple of the lamerran diet these days, despite the relative newness of their exposure to nearby seas. The climate in Dorrin is sunny and warm more often than not, especially during spring and summer, but it receives plenty of rain due to its position near the sea, and its mild winters are looked on very favourably by people from the Wolven Empire.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Dorrin__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex315 eq true>>__The City of Thym’an__ <<message '+/-'>>The city of Thym’an, capital of the eponymous nation, is a technological marvel that few but thym’ani will ever have a chance to truly experience - not because the thym’ani are unwelcoming of outsiders with legitimate reasons to visit, since they are not, but because few but the thym’ani can stomach the thought of living life entirely underground for any real length of time. Most humans, and indeed lamerrans or wolven also, begin to miss the sun after a few days. The thought of months or even //years// underground is often inconceivable.
For those that do manage to stay, the city is a place like no other within the known boundaries of the world; much of what remained of thym’ani technology after the Fall was incorporated into their city, its streets lit softly by still-glowing crystals from a time before they crash-landed, with doors that open automatically as someone approaches them and time-telling devices that chime softly on the hour without requiring the use of a clockwork.
Fountains that cycle water endlessly and capture moisture from the air to create more. Pumps that purify the water of underground streams so that it’s safe for drinking. Lamps that produce a kind of light similar enough to the sun that they can be used to grow plants underground. Crystals that record sounds and voices and can be made to reproduce them. It is a city of wonders… wonders whose makings are lost to the tides of time.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__The City of Thym’an__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex316 eq true>>__Avizek__ <<message '+/-'>>Avizek is a small hamlet on the coast of the Wolven Empire of little political importance; one of its most notable features is the geographical oddity that is the cliffs overlooking the sea to the north of the town, which are a chalky white colour. Like many small towns in the Empire, it is a hotbed of gang activity as varying bands of criminal entrepreneurs vie for control of territory outside the purview of the watchful eyes of the military, and like many port towns in the Empire it is also a haven for pirates and smugglers.
The unusual colour in the cliffside is thought to be caused by deposits of bone and shell from what must have been quite a unique lake ecosystem before the Sundering; now the white cliffs are all that remain.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Avizek__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex317 eq true>>__Lenceaux__ <<message '+/-'>>Lenceaux, like Autreme, is a now-defunct monarchical nation that once existed on the western side of the Great Bay, in what is currently the Wolven Empire. Unlike Autreme, however, Lenceaux was large and powerful enough that various remnants of its culture remain to this day, largely due to its vicious and continual attempts to absorb the smaller nations around it (such as Autreme), in the same way that the Empire itself later came about.
Out of all of the various nations that fell to the Plague, only Lenceaux in the north, and Sommitoro in the south, were in any position to put up a decent fight against the centrally-located Amnaru, whose armies eventually won out against both (hence why the language known now as wolven was once called Amnarian). Many of the powerful nobles of Lenceaux managed to keep varying levels of control over their family lands, however, either by throwing in their lot with the first emperor once their king fell, or simply staying out of the conflict, and there have been perhaps a dozen or so emperors and empresses since then who considered themselves to be Lencelais in origin - the most recent of whom, Guillaume des Embois, is remembered as a tyrannical brute.
Selledor, the once-capital of Lenceaux, still stands to this day, though the royal palace and many of the richest buildings were torn down during the Empire’s formation. Many in the Empire speak of Selledor as a place of refinement and culture, a centre for art and exploration of the senses and passions, but in reality most visitors find it to be nothing more than a Lencelais imitation of Srivyñe; a gilded mask that hides a rotting face, its staggering poverty overshadowed by the ostentatious wealth of a few families.
At least there’s a lake, though.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Lenceaux__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex318 eq true>>__Will-o’-wisps__ <<message '+/-'>>Will-o’-wisps are a phenomenon that are thought to be caused by lingering souls that have evaded the attentions of the Gatherers for too long. Though spirits can often maintain a similar appearance to those they had during life, and sometimes, more gruesomely, the state of their appearance at the moment of their death, will-o’-wisps are incorporeal like spirits but have the appearance only of a small ball of glowing light.
Unlike witchlights, however, will-o’-wisps can move of their own volition, and often seem to display something akin to personality (curiosity, playfulness, malice, fear and excitement are all fairly common traits that witnesses have observed in will-o’-wisp behaviour), which has given rise to the idea that will-o’-wisps are spirits, left too long outside the safety of the Underworld, who have begun to decay, to lose their personhood. Though they are indeed the remnants of souls, it is not known for certain what causes a spirit to become a wisp - time is just considered the most logical factor involved.
<<if $faction eq "Gatherers">>
As with regular spirits, the Gatherers can try to aid will-o’-wisps in returning to the path laid out for them by the gods, but they are often greatly confused by their circumstances, and can be hard to communicate with. It //is// possible, however, especially if an item or event of great personal significance to the wisp in question is known or possessed; of course, finding out who a wisp is can sometimes be even more difficult than finding out about their history.
<<endif>>
They are an especially common phenomenon at sea; the souls of the many drowned sailors too far from land for the Gatherers to reach, one must assume.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Will-o’-wisps//__@@<<endif>>
<<if $codex319 eq true>>__Dragons__ <<message '+/-'>>Dragons are creatures of legend, great flying lizards that can breathe fire and swallow a person whole in one gulp; there are many different kinds of dragon that have been written about in stories from different cultures from all over the continent, some without wings and others with batlike wings attached to their front legs, some that breathe icy blasts instead of fire and some that breathe pure poison or lightning, and some that can speak and impart wisdom to those that meet them, while others are merely colossal terrifying beasts.
The one thing that all these different kinds of dragon have in common is that they don’t exist - or, at least, exist no longer, if the theory that our myths about them come from a time long ago when they really did roam the skies is to be believed. Many possible reasons they might have died out have been put forth (lack of adequate food supply is generally considered a strong contender) but there’s no real way to know without discovery of, at the very least, a skeleton or other remains.
There hasn’t been a confirmed sighting of either a dragon or a dragon’s bones for nearly a thousand years, so it seems that if they do still exist, they must be truly excellent at hiding.<</message>><<else>>@@.hidden;__Dragons__@@<<endif>>He returns his gaze to the items on his bed, twisting them around and fidgeting with them pointedly as though he thinks that contact with them might make him remember what they’re for. Given the flashback that you had about him, he might be right, for all that you know; unfortunately, the look on his face doesn’t exactly seem like one of dawning clarity.
“Did we…” he begins to say, and then trails off, clearing his throat awkwardly. “That was probably an embarrassing question I was about to ask. Never mind.”
You shrug. “I mean, I <<if visited ("ch107b") > 0>>had to ask<<else>>thought about asking<<endif>> Soillere if I was alive earlier. Sometimes we just have to let our standards for what counts as embarrassing slip a little.”
He nods morosely, looking at his hands, and then exhales tiredly, giving in. “I suppose I was just wondering if… we knew each other before this. I don’t remember you at all but- well, I’ve forgotten so much…”
You lean back some ways on your stool, considering it for a moment. It’s true that it’s a question you asked yourself upon first seeing him as well - however, it’s a question that doesn’t have a satisfying answer. If the two of you met properly during the past few days, or maybe even the past few weeks, you wouldn’t have much way of telling for certain. Not without hunting down someone else who was around during that time without amnesia, anyway, and the fine folks who performed the ritual using the both of you probably wouldn’t want to help, even if you could find them.
“I don’t think we did,” you tell him, honestly. “I can’t be exactly sure, but… we come from very different places, as does the other survivor. I think we were gathered together from far apart, for whatever reason, and we’ve just met for the first time today.”
He sighs, accepting this, and puts his top set of hands behind his head as leans back against the wall once more. “I want to hope that’s true. Forgetting an entire person… that would be too bleak for me. I wouldn’t know what to do about it.”
<<if $annosflirt > 0>><<if $annos >= 25>>[[“You shouldn’t worry… I doubt I could forget about you.”|ch1a202a][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your relationship with Annos is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>><<else>>[[There’s something so eye-catching about him…|ch1a202b][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>><<endif>>
<<if $annosflirt > 0>><<if $annos >= 25>>[[“Don’t worry, Annos. We can figure this out together… for both of us.”|ch1a202c][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 3, $turmoil -= 1, $annosharden -= 1]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Turmoil, +3 to your relationship with Annos, -1 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your relationship with Annos is too low<<endif>>.@@<<endif>><<else>>[[You can’t believe he’s worrying about his friends and acquaintances right now instead of himself…|ch1a202d][$annosflirt += 1, $annos += 2, $annosharden -= 1, $flirted = true]] $flirt<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos, -1 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>><<endif>>
[[“Nobody could possibly blame you, Annos. We’re all going through the same thing as you down here, and anyone else will just be glad you’re still alive.”|ch1a202e][$annos += 3, $decency += 2, $annosharden -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Decency, +3 to your relationship with Annos, -2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I don’t know, maybe it’s for the best. There’s a few people I’ve made bad enough first impressions with that I wouldn’t mind having a do-over for.”|ch1a202f][$annos += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to your relationship with Annos//]<<endif>>
[[“Sometimes you just have to… shut down. Soldier on. Keep living and hope that things make sense later.”|ch1a202g][$annosharden += 4, $turmoil -= 4]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-4 to Turmoil, +4 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>
[[“This whole thing is ‘bleak.’ You need to stop acting like this is going to have a neat little solution that we can put a bow in.”|ch1a202h][$decency -= 2, $annos -= 3, $annosharden += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -3 to your relationship with Annos, +2 to Annos’ Harden stat//]<<endif>>“You don’t have to leave,” she says, sounding extremely tired, before you can turn to go. “I just don’t know what you want me to say.”
You think it over, coming to stand beside her at the windows. “I don’t think I had any particular response in mind that I wanted. I just thought I’d check in on you.”
She gives you a somewhat sceptical look, as though she doesn’t believe you, before sighing and removing her hat, placing it carefully on a small table beside her bed. Next, she shrugs her way out of her naval jacket, revealing a midnight-blue waistcoat and white shirtsleeves underneath; the solidity of her figure and definition in her musculature is even more obvious without the bulky coat covering it up.
She sits down wearily on the bed, fishing a decanter out from among the folds of cloth and refilling her glass. “If you’re looking for emotional clarity, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. And if you’re looking to offer some, I’m sorry to say you’ve arrived about three centuries too late.”
“It can’t be all that hopeless, surely?” you reply, as she motions for you to sit down.
“The barrier between life and death has been torn open,” she says flatly, watching as you perch on a nearby chair. “It’s the end of the fucking world out there.”
“You can’t just give up on caring!” you protest, shocked by her fatalism.
She groans at that, covering her eyes, and you get the sense that it’s something she’s heard before - from Soillere, maybe. She leans back, eyes closed, and drains her drink, apparently considering something.
“It’s been a long time, you know,” she says, eventually, once the glass is empty. “Since I died.”
“Do you miss being alive?” you ask her, curious about her change of topic, but she just scoffs.
“That’s a bloody stupid question.”
“I’ve never been dead before,” you respond, noncommittally. “I don’t know what it’s like.”
There’s a long pause, as she refills her glass… you wonder, based on the look in her eyes, if she’s trying to keep herself from crying.
“I miss it like I miss the sea,” she answers, in the end. “On a good day, if you squint, you can just about convince yourself that the facsimile is an acceptable substitute for the real thing.”
[[“It must be hard… holding onto everything for so long.”|ch1c102a][$decency += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency//]<<endif>>
[[“So why stay?”|ch1c102b]]
[[“The harsh truth is that it’s not supposed to be a substitute. You’re not SUPPOSED to linger here this long.”|ch1c102c][$honesty += 2, $decency -= 2, $bettina -= 3]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Honesty, -2 to Decency, -3 to your relationship with Bettina//]<<endif>><<set $codex218 to true>><<if $codex217 neq true>><<run memorize('codex217', true)>><<set $codex217 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: Elemental magic, Sacrifical magic<</notify>><<else>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Sacrificial magic<</notify>><<endif>>\
“Did you learn anything from talking to the other survivor?” you ask, hoping that that question will be an innocuous enough opener to put her at ease.
She does seem to relax slightly, though the look on her face tells you that she probably didn’t get as much information out of the other survivor as she had been hoping. She walks over towards where you’re standing at the junction of two corridors, the light from her eyes playing across the walls as her focus flits around.
<<if $faction eq "Hallowed Heart">>
Down here, with the shadows softening the edges of her face, and her ochre skin burnished by the amber light of her eyes, a very strange thought seizes you. Maybe it’s some kind of a quirk of your amnesia, but… a memory flashes in your mind of the cathedral you served at, where a vast portrait of your goddess Accharina was hung, taking up almost the entirety of one stone wall. There was a thin veil covering Her face in the portrait, but - you’re almost scared to think the words - Our Lady’s face bears a striking resemblance to the face of Accharina in that painting.
Our Lady seems to notice you staring at her as she approaches, and turns away slightly in seeming embarrassment, the lamplight glow of her eyes fixed demurely on the floor.
<<endif>>
“It seems that they are a follower of Osnach,” she says plainly, in answer to your question, once she’s close enough to hear easily at a quiet volume.
You’re not sure you’re prepared for what she’s about to say, if she’s worried about saying it too loudly on a ship that has just lately watched people’s souls being sucked out of the Underworld.
<<if (visited ("ch121e") eq 0) and ($amnesia eq false)>>“It does seem to confirm our theory that servants of the gods were involved somehow - perhaps even //sought out// - for the ritual,<<else>>“My working theory at the moment is that servants of the gods may have been somehow involved in the ritual process, as a necessary component,<<endif>>” she continues, seeming not to notice your trepidation. “I can’t say with certainty whether the gods’ servants were important to the magic itself, however. Perhaps it was just hubristic whim on the part of the one performing it.”
You let that thought sit for a few moments, trying to imagine what sort of person would be compelled to perform a ritual like this. The word “hubristic” seems like one of the kinder descriptions you imagine that someone could come up with for a person like that; you’re not exactly going to argue with its probable accuracy, though.
<<if visited ("ch121e") > 0>>
Of course, you’re still internally wrestling with the fact that the only person you’ve ever met with //any// inkling about this kind of profane magic is standing right in front of you. It’s darkly amusing to hear her bring up hubristic whim - as what else could better describe the perpetrator of the ritual hanging around to give the impression of helping the victims afterwards? Hypothetically, of course.
<<endif>>
“Do you mind if I ask how you happen to know so much about this kind of magic?” you ask her, <<if visited ("ch121e") > 0>>carefully<<else>>curious<<endif>>. “Frankly I didn’t know magic could even be used for something like this. I know that some lamerrans can exert magical control over their surroundings with practice, but I thought most magic required a divine connection to work.”
She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands together in what seems like anxiety, twisting her fingers around each other as though she’s trying to braid them. “You are correct, $pcname… most magic //does// require a connection to the divine. It isn’t widely known - isn’t widely //taught//, for obvious reasons - but some people whom the gods would never choose to empower found a way to steal magic for themselves, using the blood of sacrifices. It is a dark and wicked kind of magic… as I’m sure you can guess, after today.”
[[Magic stolen via blood… it’s a wonder you’ve never heard of something like that before. It must be an extremely well-guarded secret…|ch1ol101c]]“What did you wish to talk about?” she asks, somewhat hesitantly.
<<if visited ("ch126c") > 0>>
Maybe she’s worried that you want to discuss that thing with the anchor from earlier… in fairness, maybe you //should// ask her about that - though if it’s going to upset her, you suppose it might be better to save it for a different, less exhausting day.
<<endif>>
“I know you keep insisting that you’re not coping any better than the rest of us,” you begin, hoping that your small smile will put her at ease, “but right now we’re pretty low on soothing influences around here. I thought… well, it seems slightly selfish now, when I say it like that, but I just wanted to talk in general.”
“Oh,” she replies quietly, <<if $ourlady < 25>>crossing the rest of the distance between the two of you daintily, as though she’s almost afraid to take each step<<else>>turning her face away to focus on the wall beside the two of you, like looking at you is overwhelming all of a sudden<<endif>>.
<<if (visited ("ch1tol03c2") > 0) or (visited ("ch1tol03c3") > 0)>>
“This is me formally acknowledging that I was being an arse earlier,” you add, clearing your throat and rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I know it’s probably quite annoying of me to complain about your calmness and then turn around and decide I appreciate it afterwards, but… what can I say, it’s been a rough day.”
To your surprise, she actually laughs, eyes dancing across the wall like fireflies. “<<if $ourlady < 25>>At least you’re self-aware, I suppose<<else>>I won’t hold it against you, $pcname<<endif>>.”
<<endif>>
Silence falls between the two of you for a few moments, and there is indeed something a bit relaxing about her just being nearby; there’s something so steady about her somehow, so solid and placid and unshakeable.<<if $ourlady < 25>> You’re not going to pretend that the two of you will ever be best friends, but if nothing else, she’s good to have around in a crisis.<<endif>>
“Do you mind if I ask how you happen to know so much about this kind of magic?” you ask her, breaking the silence after a while. “Frankly I didn’t know magic could even be used for something like this. I know that some lamerrans can exert magical control over their surroundings with practice, but I thought most magic required a divine connection to work.”
She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands together in what seems like anxiety, twisting her fingers around each other as though she’s trying to braid them. “You are correct, $pcname… most magic //does// require a connection to the divine. It isn’t widely known - isn’t widely //taught//, for obvious reasons - but some people whom the gods would never choose to empower found a way to steal magic for themselves, using the blood of sacrifices. It is a dark and wicked kind of magic… as I’m sure you can guess, after today.”
[[Magic stolen via blood… it’s a wonder you’ve never heard of something like that before. It must be an extremely well-guarded secret…|ch1ol101c]]“You didn’t mention how you ended up knowing so much about it,” you point out, after a few seconds, and she gives you a small, thin-lipped smile.
“I’ve spent years… a large chunk of my life, really… seeking out knowledge that has otherwise been lost.”
She doesn’t meet your eyes as she speaks, staring determinedly at the floor.
“It’s very difficult to truly destroy all records regarding something, so some information will always remain, waiting for anyone who is determined enough to seek it out. It is my contention that if no one knows about these dark magics and how they work other than their practitioners, it will leave people defenceless against them. I admit I… hadn’t expected something like //this//, though.”
<<if visited ("ch121e") > 0>>
You ponder this answer for a few seconds, unsure how convincing you really find it. “I simply thought it would be a good idea to research forbidden and dangerous magics just in case” is an argument that is both somewhat difficult to accept and just naïve-sounding enough to compensate for its most glaring faults.
You suppose you’ll just have to remain wary, and see if anything happens to tip your judgement about her one way or the other.
<<endif>>
“I don’t know if anyone could ever //expect// something like this,” you reply dully, leaning back against the wall behind you. “I think we all probably hope, deep down, that nobody really wants to rip the world apart.<<if $decency < 50>> Even if only because they also have to live here.<<endif>>”
She makes a soft noise, a bit like a stifled sigh. “People have always done things that seem senseless, $pcname. Greed, or jealousy, or ego, or even grief - these things have always had the ability to push people over a line into a place where their behaviours seem incomprehensible to others.”
The golden light illuminating the small corner of the ship where you’re standing goes out suddenly; you can’t see it for certain in the dark, but you think she must have closed her eyes. There’s no residual glow like you might expect from a regular covered light source - and, wait, does this mean that she hasn’t blinked the entire time that you’ve been talking?
“The way you talk, it almost sounds like you //want// to comprehend,” you prompt, thinking that it might be inescapably quite rude to ask her to open her eyes once more just for the sake of light.
Thankfully, she does open them again, sighing and seeming to pull herself together a little. “Only in the sense that it can be hard to make the world better without knowing why some people don’t want to.”
<<if $faction eq "Judiciary">>
You nod, understanding completely; there are entire divisions of your faction devoted to researching and examining the reasons why people commit harm against others. You don’t particularly get the sense that you used to work there, exactly, but you’re nonetheless familiar with the idea.
<<endif>>
Silence reigns for a few more long seconds, your brain weighing up everything that Our Lady has told you, before she claps her hands decisively, standing up straight and turning to face you properly.
“I think that’s enough discussion of sinister things for today, don’t you? I wanted to ask you - had been meaning to earlier, before… well, everything - how you’re feeling. Are you… all right?”
<<if $turmoil <= 55>>[[“I think I will be. Given some time, I mean. And once everything is fixed.”|ch1ol102a][$turmoil -= 2, $honesty += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Turmoil, +1 to Honesty//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Turmoil is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
[[“How could anyone possibly be all right? Everything’s falling apart around us, and I’m stuck in a place where only dead people are supposed to be!”|ch1ol102b][$turmoil += 2, $honesty += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Turmoil, +2 to Honesty//]<<endif>>
[[“I don’t know what to tell you that isn’t just a stream of angry yelling. This is all a shitshow, and somehow I’ve ended up on the bottom of the pile.”|ch1ol102c][$turmoil += 4, $honesty += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+4 to Turmoil, +1 to Honesty//]<<endif>>
[[Lie. “It’s nothing I can’t handle! Don’t worry, really. I’m doing fine.”|ch1ol102d][$honesty -= 2, $turmoil += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Honesty, +1 to Turmoil//]<<endif>>
<<if $turmoil <= 52>>[[“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m solid.”|ch1ol102e][$turmoil -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Turmoil//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this option<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because your Turmoil is too high<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
[[“How am I supposed to answer that question? It doesn’t even matter - you shouldn’t have bothered asking.”|ch1ol102f][$decency -= 1, $turmoil += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+2 to Turmoil, -1 to Decency//]<<endif>><<if $codex316 neq true>><<run memorize('codex316', true)>><<endif>>\
You do your best to inspect him a little more closely without looking like you’re just blatantly staring at him, and you don’t exactly know what to do with the information that your eyes present you with. He doesn’t look as transparent as he once did, and the snowy white of his blouse is considerably sharper than you remember it, along with the much more solid hue of his warm black skin. The difference in his appearance seems to have crept up on you somehow… you wonder if it had been gradually becoming clearer and clearer ever since you met him.
Is it because you’ve been in the Underworld for longer now? Do all of the dead look as solid as they did in life to each other? Or is it something to do with the rift between the living world and this one, maybe… the lines between dead and alive becoming blurred? You don’t even know //what// to think about that possibility.
“Where are you from?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to your inspection. “What’s it like?”
You think about it for a second, trying to decide what he would find most interesting to hear. “<<if $race eq "wolven">><<if $codex312 neq true>><<run memorize('codex312', true)>><<set $codex312 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entr<<if $codex316 neq true>>ies<<else>>y<<endif>> unlocked: Srivyñe<<if $codex316 neq true>>, Avizek<<endif>><</notify>><<endif>>I was born in Srivyñe, in the heart of the Wolven Empire. It rains all the time; I spent a lot of time when I was little playing in puddles<<elseif $race eq "human">><<if $codex313 neq true>><<run memorize('codex313', true)>><<set $codex313 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entr<<if $codex316 neq true>>ies<<else>>y<<endif>> unlocked: Umnassus<<if $codex316 neq true>>, Avizek<<endif>><</notify>><<endif>>I was born in Umnassus, on the edge of the desert. We moved around a fair bit when I got older, but I still miss the bright oranges and reds of the soil in that region<<elseif $race eq "lamerran">><<if $codex314 neq true>><<run memorize('codex314', true)>><<set $codex314 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entr<<if $codex316 neq true>>ies<<else>>y<<endif>> unlocked: Dorrin<<if $codex316 neq true>>, Avizek<<endif>><</notify>><<endif>>I grew up in Dorrin, beside the sea. It’s on the opposite side of the Great Bay from where you lived, I think, but I spent as much time as I could at the beach when I was young<<else>><<if $codex315 neq true>><<run memorize('codex315', true)>><<set $codex315 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entr<<if $codex316 neq true>>ies<<else>>y<<endif>> unlocked: Thym’an<<if $codex316 neq true>>, Avizek<<endif>><</notify>><<endif>>I grew up underground, in Thym’an. I was petrified the first time I saw the sea; I’d never imagined anything like it could even exist<<endif>>.”<<set $codex316 to true>>
He smiles again at your words, but it turns somewhat sad after a second. “Autreme was a tiny strip of land along the ocean, nothing but a navy and some sheep and endless godsforsaken cliffs of chalk.”
//-the seawater churns around you, so cold you can barely feel your feet. You slog your way through the waist-high waves towards the other edge of the bay, the White Cliffs of Avizek gleaming in the moonlight above you. You’re late, you know you’re late, but maybe if you can-//
The tiny sliver of memory fades as abruptly as it arrived, prompted by his words; you blink and turn away to face the fore of the //Wisp//, unsure whether or not he’d like to hear about what his home country has become in modern times. Avizek isn’t exactly a peaceful place… you’re not really sure what //you// were doing there.
[[It seems like every piece of memory you get back just creates more mysteries…|ch1s101b]]<<if $codex317 neq true>><<run memorize('codex317', true)>><<set $codex317 to true>><<run memorize('codex318', true)>><<set $codex318 to true>><<if $codex214 neq true>><<run memorize('codex214', true)>><<set $codex214 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: Lenceaux, witchlights, will-o’-wisps<</notify>><<else>><<notify 3s>>codex entries unlocked: Lenceaux, will-o’-wisps<</notify>><<endif>><<endif>>\
You take a few long breaths, watching the ship before you as it cuts through the waters of the river below… it’s both silent and unendingly musical, both still and in constant motion.
A thought strikes you suddenly, as you observe the //Wisp//. “Is the colour of the sails usual? I would have expected them to be white, not black. Is it something to do with the Underworld?”
“It’s not usual, no,” Soillere replies from behind you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “But it’s not some quirk of being down here. It’s how the ship was designed.”
You turn back to face him, curious, and the look on his face tells that this was exactly what he was hoping you’d do.
“The //Wisp// is no ordinary old frigate,” he explains, the same pride evident on his face as when he was first telling you about her. “She’s a blockade-runner, a //legend//. We’d slip through Lenceaux’s lines at night with a cargo hold full of food and there’d be a party the next day in Aviny before the bastards were any the wiser. All they’d see of us in the dark was the witchlight hanging from the bowsprit, bobbing and weaving like a ghost.”
“Ah,” you reply, imagining it, the black sails practically invisible against the midnight sea. “That explains the name.”
He smiles fondly, patting the ship’s wheel affectionately with one hand. “There’s no ship like her. She could cut through a barque like a knife through butter, or reduce a ship-o’-the-line to splinters. They never caught her, not even-”
He trails off suddenly, his face crestfallen, and you can guess what he was about to say. //Not even at the end//.
You wonder what happened to her and the crew exactly… it seems like it would be highly inappropriate to ask, but frankly you weren’t even aware that physical objects like ships could be brought to the Underworld. Maybe it’s something to do with their attachment to her… Soillere in particular seems to treat her almost more like a friend than just a ship.
[[The things he’s describing, running blockades and having battles with other ships, are dangerous enough to give you at least some idea of what probably happened…|ch1s101c]]“It must be strange for you, having so many living people on board,” you say casually, trying to change the topic.
He snorts, still looking slightly dejected. “It’s certainly keeping things interesting.”
“What, no worse than being around any crew of strangers?” you continue, hoping to get a joke out of him, and he gives you a reluctant grin.
“I suppose it would be a lie to pretend I haven’t sailed with worse.”
You try to imagine it, several hundred people all living on board, sharing in the joys and triumphs that he’s clearly so proud of, crammed together in a relatively small space, the whole thing basically a floating city.
“How did it work, generally?” you ask, more genuinely curious this time. “Did you actually know everyone on board, back when you had a full crew? How did you keep track of them all?”
He shrugs genially. “I usually knew most of them, at least a bit. It was part of my job as first mate… the captain probably couldn’t have named half of them. Cas- I mean, the commander, and I… we kept track of everyone so that she didn’t have to.”
“The commander?” you inquire, but he only grunts in response, not meeting your eye. “Do you also have a rank?”
He laughs at that. “Listen, I haven’t been First Lieutenant Dujardin in //centuries//. I’m not going to ask you to start calling me by my title now. Soillere is just fine.”
The third-highest in rank, but the second-in-command? You wonder why…
“There were always new faces on board, but part of my duties was hiring them on, so I always got to talk to them a little, at least,” he continues, returning his focus to the ship’s wheel. “I got pretty good at being able to get an impression of what people are like quickly; you needed to, if you wanted to be able to know you could trust somebody.”
“I can imagine,” you reply, your mind boggling at the scale of the logistics that must have been involved. “So, tell me…”
<<if visited ("ch1a101") > 0>>[[“What impression did you get of Annos?”|ch1s102a]]
<<endif>>\
[[“Any impressions you’d like to share with me about the captain?”|ch1s102b]]
[[“You must have some impressions to pass on about Our Lady?”|ch1s102c]]
<<if visited ("ch1tol01") > 0>>[[“What impression did you get of Tehemia?”|ch1s102d]]
<<endif>>\
<<if visited ("ch1v101") > 0>>[[“What’s your impression of Vanator?”|ch1s102e]]
<<endif>>\
[[“What impression did you get from me?”|ch1s102f]]<<set $codex116 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Tehemia Wawatai<</notify>>\
“We didn’t get a chance to meet earlier,” you begin, <<if $touchaverse eq true>>ducking your head politely<<else>>holding out your hand for them to shake<<endif>>. “I’m $pcname, and I use<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns.”
They rock back on their heels for a moment, looking you over once more, before <<if $touchaverse eq true>>nodding sharply in response<<else>>shaking your hand firmly<<endif>>. “I’m Tehemia. Tehemia Wawatai. I use they/them pronouns.”
It’s more noticeable, now that you’re speaking directly to them, but they have a striking accent, one that you’ve never heard before - again, you have to assume that it’s just how people from the southern islands speak.
<<if ($amnesia eq false) and (visited ("ch121e") eq 0)>>
They blink then, seeming to remember something. “That weird lady said that you were a $title?”
“That’s right,” you reply, quietly amused by their description of Our Lady.
<<if $faction eq "Gatherers">>
“So am I!” they exclaim, sounding excited all of a sudden. “We don’t have the same organised versions of the temples where I come from, but I serve Osnach as well!”
You smile warmly at them, despite your surprise. “Well met, honoured sibling. Our paths cross in dark times.”
“I //thought// I saw fire in your eyes,” they reply, teeth flashing in a wide grin.
You shrug, amused again. “I suppose I should say the same about you… I probably should have guessed that you were a servant of the gods, anyway, considering how upset you are about everything going on.”
<<else>>
They smile broadly at you, seeming more relaxed all of a sudden. “We don’t have the same organised versions of the temples where I come from, but I serve Osnach!”
“Well met, seeker,” you reply, smiling, despite your surprise. “I hope that our gods will grant us a swift resolution to this mess.”
They grin in response, tipping their head on the side slightly to get a better look at your face. “I could almost guess, you know! You have that look about you. I can practically see it in your eyes!”
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” you respond, laughing.
<<endif>><<else>>
They blink then, seeming to remember something. “That weird lady said that you lost your memories?”
“That’s right,” you reply, quietly amused by their description of Our Lady.
The muscles in their shoulders and upper chest seem to slacken a little, as though in relief. “I’m glad it’s not just me. I didn’t know… if it was all a lie, you know? Some kind of trick. I’ve been on edge ever since I woke up.”
You can definitely imagine it being hard to believe everything that’s going on<<if visited ("ch121e") > 0>> - honestly, you feel much the same<<endif>>. You suppose you’re lucky that you weren’t the first survivor to wake up, or you’d probably have gone through exactly what they’ve had to wrestle with, being mostly alone on a ship full of the dead.
<<if visited ("ch121e") > 0>>
“It might still //be// a trick… but I do definitely also have some amnesia,” you tell them, and their mouth thins into a grim, determined line as they nod in understanding.
<<else>>
“Honestly, it might be better if it was a trick,” you tell them, sighing. “All the things I’ve forgotten… I //wish// someone would tell me it was just a lie and I’d get those memories back.”
<<endif>><<endif>>
They sigh once more, looking extremely tired, and rub resignedly at their eyes with the heels of their hands.
“Listen…” you begin, trying to sound more encouraging than you feel. “We need to stick together here. This whole time, you’ve seemed like something was bothering you beyond just… everything that’s going on. I’m probably your best chance to talk it out with someone, at least for now. So, if you want to talk it over… let’s talk.”
[[They give you a long, contemplative look. You really can’t tell what’s going on in their head…|ch1t101b]]They’re silent for a while, though it doesn’t seem to be because they just don’t want to talk to you about it all… the look on their face makes it clear that they’re wrestling with something internally. You feel like you understand in a way; how do you even go about putting everything that’s happened in to words? But it’s clearly bothering them a lot, so you felt like you had to offer.
<<if $tehemiaopenness > 5>>
“There’s just… so much,” they reply eventually, sounding despondent. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
You hum sympathetically. “Maybe that in itself is sort of somewhere to start, though? Feeling overwhelmed, I mean.”
“Overwhelmed,” they mutter, repeating the word like it’s a particularly vicious insult that they’ve just been called. “Is that what this is? I don’t like it.”
“I don’t think anyone does,” you respond, feeling the same thing weighing down on you as well.
They sigh heavily. “I just don’t feel like talking about it is helping. Isn’t it supposed to?”
“Do you not talk about your emotions where you come from?” you ask them, curious, but they just snort, shaking their head.
“No, everyone back home //always// wants to talk about feelings. They don’t understand why I don’t want to. This is just… a me thing.”
“Well, I suppose one of the benefits when you’re feeling overwhelmed is to figure out what’s bothering you the most,” you suggest, although given the circumstances you’re still not sure whether that will be overly helpful. “So that you can address that first, if you can.”
As you thought they might, Tehemia makes a sour face in response. “I can’t address any of the things that are bothering me.”
<<else>>
“There’s just not much to say,” they reply eventually, sounding frustrated. “I mean, you understand, don’t you? We’re dealing with the same mess. What’s the point in talking about it?”
You shrug, partially because you //do// understand. “My main concern was that the whole thing was going to cause you to keep getting into fights with the captain. I know she can be a bit rough around the edges, but we really do need her help to get anywhere.”
They grunt sourly in response. “I’d be happier if I never had to speak to her again. I hope we reach the place where they’re planning to stop soon.”
“What happened to start you two off on such a bad foot, anyway?” you ask, curious. “Did she call you names, or something like that?”
“It’s not about anything she did or said,” Tehemia replies, giving you a disgruntled look. “I’m not a child; I can handle interpersonal arguments. It’s what she //is//, what they all are. They’re dead… we’re not supposed to interact with them. It’s bad for them.”
You ponder this for a moment; it’s true that you don’t get the feeling that many spirits remain in the Underworld for quite this long. And the captain does seem to be… suffering lapses, you suppose you could call what happened earlier.
<<endif>>
They turn away again, returning to gazing over the bow at the expanse of ghostly trees. After a few seconds, they pull out a strip of cloth that had been tucked into one of their wristbands and tie it around their forehead as a headband, pushing the hair back out of their eyes.
“My whole job, my //life’s work//, as a Gatherer, has been to convince spirits to move on rather than lingering. The things about them that are human make them desperately want to stay, but the longer they do, the more confused and distorted they become. It’s healthiest for everyone to leave them in the gods’ hands… we only hurt them when we engage with them.”
[[“They’re not exactly lingering in the living world, though. This is where they’re meant to be - surely that makes it less harmful.”|ch1t102a][$decency += 1, $tehemiaopenness += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>>
[[“That seems like a bit of an odd thing to be focussing on right now. Given that some of them have been sucked out into the living world, we’re the least of their worries.”|ch1t102b][$tehemia -= 3, $decency -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency, -3 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>>
[[“I hadn’t thought about it before, but I suppose you’re right. We must be a very disruptive presence… it’s probably best to keep to ourselves as much as we can.”|ch1t102c][$tehemia += 1, $tehemiaopenness -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to your relationship with Tehemia, +1 to Tehemia’s Openness stat//]<<endif>>
<<if $amnesia eq false>><<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[“I understand your thought process, but you may be being overly cautious. They’re already following the gods’ plan by being down here - we couldn’t divert them from it now even if we tried.”|ch1t10d][$faith += 1, $tehemia += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Faith, +1 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this response<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because you serve a deity other than Osnach<<endif>>.@@<<endif>>
<<if $deity eq "Osnach">>[[“I understand completely, I really do. It makes me uncomfortable to be around them as well, but we need their help to find our way out. We have to trust that the gods will repair any damage done.”|ch1t10e][$faith += 1, $tehemia += 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Faith, +2 to your relationship with Tehemia//]<<endif>><<else>>@@.greyedout;You are unable to select this response<<if $unselectableexplain eq true>> because you serve a deity other than Osnach<<endif>>.@@<<endif>><<endif>>\<<set $codex119 to true>><<notify 3s>>codex entry unlocked: Vanator<</notify>>\
They’re tall, now that they’re standing up straight, but wiry and athletic, with what you recognise as a fencer’s build; lean torso, decently strong arms, and muscular thighs. You’re not sure whether or not you should be concerned by the fact that you somehow have a level of knowledge that allows you to assess that kind of thing about people, but you suppose at least you remember how to use it, even if you don’t know why.
There’s not much of their face that you can see behind the cloth mask, but their cool brown skin definitely doesn’t have the colourless pallor that marks Soillere and the crew as being dead. They have a prominent brow with thick eyebrows, and small, deep-set eyes, so dark a brown as to almost be considered black. Their thick black hair is loose, chin-length and straight, and all of their clothing is black, too.
You get the impression of a person who wants to look like a shadow more than that of someone who wants to hide in them.
It occurs to you after a few seconds of deepening silence that they must be waiting for you to start.
“I’m $pcname,” you say, politely. “Pleased to meet you. I use<<if visited ("ch111g") > 0>> any<<elseif visited ("ch111e") > 0>> she/they<<elseif visited ("ch111f") > 0>> he/they<<else>> <<print $xhe1>>/$xir1<<endif>> pronouns. <<if visited ("ch126f") eq 0>>I just happened to see you around earlier, and thought I should meet everyone else who’s alive while I’m still up and capable of walking<<else>>We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, earlier<<endif>>.”
<<if $race eq "wolven">><<if visited ("ch126f") > 0>>
“You’re wolven, but you don’t have an accent,” they observe, their voice flat and their manner wary.
You raise an eyebrow, wondering why they’re so suspicious. “I’ve been away from home for quite some time.”
For whatever reason, they seem to fidget for a few seconds, fists clenching against their heavy leather duster jacket, like they’re wrestling with some decision. Eventually, they just nod.
“Call me Vanator,” they say, sounding a little less hostile - though just a little. “He/him pronouns.”
<<else>>
“You’re wolven?” they ask flatly, looking you up and down.
“That a problem?” you respond, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t have an accent,” they reply after a few seconds, ignoring your question, and you shrug.
“I’ve been away from home for quite some time.”
For whatever reason, they seem to fidget for a few seconds, fists clenching against their heavy leather duster jacket, like they’re wrestling with some decision. Eventually, they just nod.
“Call me Vanator,” they say, sounding a little less hostile - though just a little. “He/him pronouns.”
<<endif>><<else>>
They hesitate for a second before nodding. “<<if visited ("ch126f") > 0>>I meant to say something earlier<<else>>I did notice you around, earlier<<endif>>, but things have been…”
They trail off into silence again, but at least this time you understand exactly what’s going on inside their head. You don’t know what words you would use to describe everything that’s happened today either.
“Yeah,” you respond, with feeling, and they sigh again, more tiredly this time.
“I’m Vanator… he/him pronouns.”
<<endif>>
The conversation dies off once again, as apparently that’s all the introduction he’s willing to offer.
“Was there something you wanted?” he asks, and to his credit he sounds like he’s realised that it’s gotten awkward.
“Well, I was sort of hoping you could tell me a bit about the Underworld,” you tell him honestly, and he barks a short laugh.
“I doubt I know much more than you. Anything in particular you wanted to ask?”
[[“How did you end up here?”|ch1v102a]]
[[“How long have you been down here?”|ch1v102b]]
[[“Did you see what happened with the hole in the sky?”|ch1v102c]]
[[“What do you know about Our Lady?”|ch1v102e]]He laughs too, both of you snickering uncontrollably as the absurdity of the situation leaves you deprived of other, perhaps more sensible, emotional responses. It doesn’t last long, however; the amusement in his eyes is quickly replaced by something that looks like regret, and you feel your own laughter dry up as well in response.
“What on earth have we ended up in the middle of?” you ask, finally, though you’re not sure whether you’re addressing the question to him or just asking the air.
Presumably because the air can’t answer, Vanator sighs in reply instead. His eyes flick over to meet yours for a second, seeming to search your face for something, though you have no way of telling what it might be. Eventually he lifts his shoulders briefly, in the smallest, most half-hearted of shrugs.
“I don’t even know if we are in the middle of it, frankly. Who knows what’s happening up on the surface… I certainly don’t.”
It’s a sobering thought, the idea that the people in the Underworld might be the lucky ones. You turn your head towards the magical ceiling for a few moments, as though if you concentrated hard enough you might be able to hear what’s going on up there, or see through the illusion.
But the only sounds are the creaking of the //Wisp’s// timbers, the humming of her lines and the fluttering of her sails, and no matter how hard you stare, the wisps of cloud keep scudding across the illusory grey sky.
“Well,” Vanator says, sounding very drained as he finally breaks the silence that has developed between the two of you once more, “I think I’m going to turn in.”
You watch as he turns to leave, momentarily envying even just that amount of decisiveness.
“Wait- before you go, I have to ask you one last thing!” you call after him, and he stops at the top of the stairs, though the look he’s giving you makes it clear that he’s wary of whatever you’re about to say.
“What is it?”
“<<if visited ("ch1v102a") > 0>>I know you’ve said that you have nothing to do with the weird ritual that brought the rest of us here,” you begin, grimly. “But d<<else>>I have to ask,” you begin, grimly. “D<<endif>>o you think there’s even the slightest chance that how you ended up here is linked somehow with everything that’s going on?”
He stands there silently for a long moment, his dark eyes as hard as flint. You wonder whether he’s actually considering the question, or just trying to contain an angry outburst.
“No,” he grates, eventually, with a firmness that makes you think he’s telling the truth - at least, as far as he knows.
[[“All right, then. I won’t ask you any other questions about your circumstances, I promise… I just needed to know that one thing.”|ch1v204a][$decency += 1, $vanator += 2, $vturmoil -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Decency, +2 to your relationship with Vanator, -2 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>
[[“Who would have thought that there were so many different ways to end up trapped in the Underworld? You’d think there would be some connection just based on statistics.”|ch1v204b][$vturmoil += 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//+1 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I’m going to be blunt and reassure you that prying into your business is the last thing I care about. If the way you got here isn’t related to this current mess, then I couldn’t give a shit.”|ch1v204c][$honesty += 2, $decency -= 1, $vturmoil -= 1, $vanator -= 1]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-1 to Decency, +2 to Honesty, -1 to your relationship with Vanator, -1 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>
[[“I wouldn’t have to keep continually bothering you about it if you would just stop keeping secrets, but okay, sure. We‘ll leave it at that for now.”|ch1v204d][$decency -= 2, $vturmoil += 4, $vanator -= 2]]<<if $statlabel eq true>> [//-2 to Decency, -2 to your relationship with Vanator, +4 to Vanator’s Turmoil stat//]<<endif>>