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(goto:"Intro")(append: ?SideBar)[\
Conquerrence
Ver. 1.8
(unless:$introState is true or $fightState is true)[
(link-undo: "<img src=\"images/leftarrow.png\">")
]
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}Welcome to Conquerrence, a yaoi Choose Your Own Adventure (CYOA) game inspired by nation building and conquerring eroge games. Built entirely around interaction between nations and its leaders, you shape the world with your actions.
After the disappearance of your brother, you are crowned the new king of Wevendh. With the resources of a mountain kingdom at your disposal, many paths await. Will you be a cunning diplomat, using a web of relationships to your advantage from the shadows? An imperialistic warmongerer, pillaging and taking whatever you desire? A lascivious harem maker, adding men as you see fit? A romantic, cherishing your one husband in marriage? The choice is yours.
But be wary; the leaders of other nations have their own agendas as well. While some may seek to aid you, others may have more sinister designs for your kingdom- or for you, specifically.
By pressing 'Play', you agree that you are of legal age to view adult content.
[[Play]]
[[Disclaimer]]
(set:$introState to true){(set:$introState to false)
}
A magical tome and repository of extensive information, including a map.
''Nations:''
* [[Kingdom of Wevendh->WevendhCodex]]
* [[Principality of Frateo->FrateoCodex]]
* [[Agerhaerstic Union->AgerhaerstCodex]]
* [[Chromoric League->ChromoreCodex]]
* [[Miraimate of Seridazar->SeridazarCodex]]
* [[Diarchy of Astope->AstopeCodex]]
* [[Qadogomese Despotate->QadogomCodex]]
* [[Vigilaean Protectorate of Aesis->AesisCodex]]
* [[Krozulan Tribes->KrozulanCodex]]
* [[Cmieloniki Theocracy->CmielonikiCodex]]
* [[Dusetmenean Trade Company->DusetmeneCodex]]
* [[The Floating Citadel->CitadelCodex]]
* [[The Flowering Marches->MarchesCodex]]
''Species:''
* [[Humans->HumanCodex]]
* [[Diermies->DiermiesCodex]]
* [[Gods->GodsCodex]]
* [[Automatons->AutomatonCodex]]
''Languages:''
* [[Syseiosn->SyseiosnCodex]]
(link-goto: "Return", $lastPassage)The crown of Wevendh sits heavy on your head.
It wasn't that long since this crown was your (link-rerun:"brother's")[(set: $broName to (prompt: "What is your brother's name?", "", "Cancel", "Confirm"))]. A mere prince at his side, your whims were the only limits of your actions. Times of a much simpler fashion, the servants rushing down the halls felt no need for decorum. Often they called out to you, using (link-rerun:"your given name")[(set: $fName to (prompt: "What is your first name?", "", "Cancel", "Confirm"))], a habit which troubled your brother greatly.
At the time you didn't heed his exasperated words, dismissing them as the worries of an overprotective older brother. The typically empty halls of the castle are filled to the brim with people who had once attended his crowning. As you look upon the people- no, //your// people gathered at your coronation, you cannot help but think you should have at least listened to him.
The mutters of the crowd, faint though they are, ring in your head. Doubt, hope, fear, ambivalence, all of them rest squarely and solely on your shoulders. Perhaps the only source of comfort you can find is in the presence of your spymaster Shizomu to your left, and your general Fiomuid to the right.
Countless families rise, from nobles plotting to gain your hand in marriage to the everyday person who has little interest in who rules over them . Regardless of their feelings, they all come one by one to pledge allegiance and pay respects to (link-rerun:"your royal lineage")[(set: $lName to (prompt: "What is your last name?", "", "Cancel", "Confirm"))].
[[Continue.->Intro2]]
(set:$introState to false)
{(if: $broName is "")[(set:$broName to "Drystan")]
(if: $fName is "")[(set: $fName to "Aedan")]
(if: $lName is "")[(set: $lName to "Caihbreas")]}This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, nations, places, events and incidents in this work are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All characters involved in adult content are of legal age. Furthermore, all kinks and fetishes presented are used in a fictional medium and should not be replicated without consent from all parties involved.
This content is meant for readers of legal age only.
(set:$introState to false)(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Kingdom of Wevendh]]}
{(size:1.4)[Leader: (if: $fName or $lName is "")[You] (else:)[$fName $lName]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Serpent of the Peak]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Once the greatest den of dragons, the mountainous lands of Wevendh were forged into a kingdom by fierce knights who took wyverns as steeds. Centuries have passed since the last sighting of a wyvern egg however, and the glory of your people has largely faded.
Luckily, your subjects are hardy people. They make what they can of the land, farming potatoes and fermenting alcohol. Traversing the steep heights easily, most people end up acting as guides to foreigners in the rare times they stray from the main road. Communities are tight knit, and are often considered second families. Local culture thrives as so little of the outside reaches despite how many borders the kingdom shares.
Surrounded on all sides, only Wevendh’s mountainous nature has prevented larger powers from taking it over. While your military force is relatively small, well-maintained keeps at chokepoints and watches along the border are all that is needed to make invasion impossible.
Wevendh’s neighbors instead pressure it via diplomatic means, holding the actions of dragon knights over the royalty despite that division being largely historical at this point. Their specific reasons vary, but they create grievances for you to pursue all the same.
//You notice there are [[further entries->WevendhCodex2]] when you flip the page.//]
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Principality of Frateo]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Camille Amoroux->CamilleCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Golden Rose of Frateo]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[A diplomatic powerhouse, Frateo has favorable relations with almost all nations. With lofty delegates in expensive embassies, little is passed without Frateo’s support or at least knowledge. Their unique position effectively allows them to maintain friendships with both sides of each conflict, remaining neutral as a result.
The biggest exception to this rule in Thiarbre and Vostoli is the Dominion of Aos. The titular Aos personally met Frateo’s envoys and said in no uncertain terms that they would hold no sway in his lands. This allegedly caused its Prince Regent much trouble, but with extensive negotiations with other Vostoli countries, he eventually came to terms with Aos’ nature. They also have a complicated relationship with Krozulan, as Cmieloniki still considers it their land.
The land of Frateo is a cool and temperate lowland, an ideal location for a summer home. In fact, Wevendh nobility has one such home midway between Leivesses and Draenaid. The closer one gets to the capital of Leivesses, the grander and more experimental the architecture becomes. Even the commoner’s houses are detailed and beautiful, as Frateo is home to many artists and architects. The capital is occupied almost entirely by nobles, with the only commoners allowed to operate business in the city being the very top of their fields.
Despite its peaceful appearances, Frateo is embroiled in a constant power struggle between its countless princes. The last king of Frateo threw the line of succession into disarray by siring many children with multiple different noble houses. After the king’s death, an unclear will led to his numerous sires all laying some sort of claim to the throne. Through a combination of wit, manipulation and diplomatic immunity one person became de facto ruler: the Prince Regent, Camille Amoroux.](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Agerhaerstic Union]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Edmund Malster->EdmundCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Fallow Minister]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Practically an agrarian empire, Agerhaerst established itself as the premier source of food. Having pioneered the growth of vegetables on lakes, they grow crops where no others can, at quality no others can achieve thanks to their peerless soil.
A land devoted almost entirely to crops, only the roads and houses are not covered in greens of some sort. All of the trees dotting the land bear fruit, the non-bearers having long since been cut down. Even the large lake that dominates most of Agerhaerst, Nicoram, has floating patches of vegetables. It is the only source of lotus seeds in Thiarbre and Vostoli. The houses are largely basic, outfitted only to ease farming or, in special cases, to house animals. There are also a few stables to facilitate the knights’ steeds.
Before it became a united land, Agerhaerst was one of the first places settled in Thiarbre due to its abundance of food. Since families could support themselves on their own, the idea of a larger community was unnecessary.The sudden onset of bandits raids forced families to band together, growing in number roughly at the same rate the bandits did. It was only after Edmund Malster’s display of bravery that the fractured, sporadic community formed a proper nation. However, since Edmund was a young and inexperienced brewer, the position of President was given to an elder, Wescotte Lewyne.
Despite its knight force, Agerhaerst relies mostly on the protection of the Chromoric League. They once had an almost extortionate relationship with Seridazar, charging ridiculous prices for each grain, until the current Miraim declared war. While no actual fighting has occurred as a result of this conflict, this has cemented Agerhaerst and Chromore as constant allies. They also have a good friendship with Dusetmene, as the Trade Company buys their crops in bulk to sell to Vostoli nations.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Chromoric League]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Fenborz Hsuefte->FenborzCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Hidden Coefficient]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Known as the land of constant technological revolution, Chromore is considered the most advanced of the non-magical nations. Constantly churning out groundbreaking inventions, products from Chromore are hotly anticipated.
Founded by three inventors, Chromore started as little more than a small alcove. Many traders were reluctant to carry materials to them as the path was long and dangerous, but the exorbitant pay eventually enticed them. The traders watched as the inventors snatched the materials and swiftly created devices never before seen. Quickly seeing the profit opportunity, the original traders created trading posts to ease the journey. As more people heard of the ‘land of inventors’, they flocked to the posts and expanded them into settlements. When the three inventors unveiled the first airship, they were hailed as rulers of the settlements, creating the Chromoric League.
The nation now has various sprawling cities, made possible due to advances in city planning and amenities. It is considered one of the best places to live, although the cost of daily living there is quite high due to the mass amounts of electricity just about all places in the city consumes. They are also considered one of the safest cities, as mechanical guards and airships protect from inside and outside threats respectively.
In terms of current relations, they are closely allied with the Agerhaerstic Union. Although their southern location leaves them little enemies, they act as a firm barrier between Agerhaerst and Seridazar. Their overwhelming air superiority thanks to airships also allows them to repel attacks by imperialist nations such as Vigilae. They have a tense relation with the Floating Citadel and Bitterbrook, but nothing official has been said.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Miraimate of Seridazar]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Ziatet I->ZiatetCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[He who is Prepotent]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[The largest nation in Thiarbre, Seridazar is a land wealthy in everything other than fertile soil. Known for its gold deposits, fragrant incense, potent poisons, beetle transport, and large military force, Seridazar is a strong generalist nation.
Ages ago, when gods still walked among men, Seridazar was once the site of a gigantic forest. The first settlers paid proper respect to the goddess of the forest and thrived. However, as generations passed, the people gradually forgot traditions and ventured deep into the woods. Hunting the sacred animals there, they incurred the wrath of the goddess. In an instant the entire forest disappeared, and the once bountiful land became poisonous sand. For centuries the land lay uninhabited, until the very first Miraim arrived with his followers. An extremely powerful magician, his flowers absorbed the goddess’ curse and allowed the people to settle once more.
Now the desert is blanketed with purple flowers, allowing most of the desert to be inhabitable. However, very little of the outskirts is actually populated, as most settlements are made along rivers, as close to the capital as possible. Their goods are usually traded for food, to the point that even Wevendh makes a sizable profit selling its potatoes to them. As a result, Seridazar has historically been envious of Agerhaerst.
Seridazar and Agerhaerst would have been in open war had the Chromoric League and Floating Citadel not acted as barriers. At the moment, their borders are merely fortified in places that could reasonably be targeted by Agerhaerst. They successfully repelled an invasion by Qadogom, earning the mounted nation's respect. Their impressive military and defense against Qadogom was noticed favorably by Vigilae and its colonies, allowing Seridazar to be the only Thiarbre nation to trade with Caprae. Additionally, thanks to the Miraim’s interest in the Prince Regent, the country is officially friendly toward Frateo.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Diarchy of Astope]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leaders: Ypolophon and Agiomedes->YpoloAgioCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[The Gods' Beloved]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Flowing with drama and poetry, the Diarchy of Astope is hailed as the pinnacle of performance arts, particularly song and theater. The performances never cease; grand shows thrown both day and night ensure a traveler can appreciate them no matter what time they arrive.
Nicknamed the Nation of Waking, Astope’s magical lamps burn brightly all through the night. The only respite from the light is in venues where darkness is part of the performance, or in lodging. Furthermore, it is impossible to roam the streets without hearing one song or another, both singers and instrumentalists vying for attention. Heavy curtains and soundproofed walls are regular facets of any private room.
One of the oldest nations in the world, Astope has existed since the disappearance of the gods. During the age of the gods, a single man abandoned by his tribe stumbled upon their city. An unknown god took fancy to him, and brought the mortal in as an architect. Before the gods disappeared, that god named their lover Desmosion and gave him the gift of entertainment. The deserted city was named Actapetra, and the people who flocked to Desmosion’s joyful shows stayed permanently, creating the nation of Astope.
As a direct neighbor of Qadogom, Astope was one of the first nations to be invaded by the Despotate. The invasion was disastrous for Qadogom, giving Astope the opportunity to counterattack and in fact take land, forming a noticeable protrusion in the borders. The resulting peace treaty remains one of the longest unbroken. As the twins are said to be demigods, they also run into conflict with religious nations such as Cmieloniki and Eri. Strangely enough, the Dominion of Aos lists Astope as its only friend, even though Astope remains neutral to it.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Qadogomese Despotate]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Joishung Yesenuge->JoishungCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Eight-Horse Arrow]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[A nation of mounted warriors, Qadogom produces both horses and archers of the finest quality. Although a culture of might makes right, intellectuals are highly valued; their concept of might extends to higher thought as well. With proud arms and proud minds, they seek to gain land for themselves.
Originally a relatively peaceful land, the Qadogomese people were simple nomads who followed the movement of tusked cows, hunting and gathering as needed. However, people settled right in the middle of their ancestral path and refused to move despite peaceful negotiation. Taking up the bow and steed, they ran the people out and claimed the settlement which later became Yegpeskotaka.
At first only interested in protecting their borders, they became militant under the rule of Khojin. Her empire stretched all the way across Thiarbre, west to east; from modern day Kroz to modern day Dusetmene. Her empire shrunk shortly after her death before being expanded once more by Joishung.
Despite its reputation of warmongering, Qadogom is more than welcoming to travelers from nations they are at peace with. This attitude started with the rise of the Dusetmenean Trade Company, who pay them large sums to allow their traders to pass unharmed. Since Dusetmene trades with almost all nations, it has effectively bought safe passage for every nation aside from Cmieloniki.]
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Vigilaean Protectorate of Aesis]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Rogelio Gorgori->RogelioCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Lionet of the Walls]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Built entirely to shield one nation from another, the Vigilaean Protectorate of Aesis stands as a sturdy wall between two of Thiarbre’s biggest warmongers. More brick than soil, the tall walls serve as beacons of respite for any traveler under attack. Although its bastions are impressive, the people within them are lacking.
During the height of Qadogomese ruler Khojin’s empire, she came dangerously close to the capital of Frateo. The king at that time, Hugo, requested the aid of Vigilae. Lacking an outpost in Thiarbre (having not established Caprae yet) and tempted by the offer of free land and a free castle, Astreator Lopiter sent some of his best engineers and guards. Many battles were waged as engineers desperately got castles together, only barely raising their fortifications each time. Eventually, Khojin passed away and the attacks ceased, but the Protectorate continued to grow.
Unfortunately, when Caprae came into existence, much of the Vigilaean forces were redirected there. While Qadogom became peaceful because of its connection to Dusetmene, a new enemy appeared. The western Tribes united under the banner of Krozulan and some of its Southern Tribes started invading the surrounding areas, forcing the understaffed walls to contain instead of repel. Despite their best efforts, Krozulan broke through to Wevendh’s border.
Aesis is naturally linked to Caprae and the Vigilaean homeland, although their ties to Frateo are much stronger. While initially built to defend against them, they are completely neutral toward Qadogom now. Most of their hostility is directed toward Krozulan due to the bandits that successfully broke through the southern tip of their wall.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Krozulan Tribes]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Xochgani Ly->LyCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Defiant Boar]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Rebuilding its culture from nearly-forgotten fragments, the Krozulan Tribes seek to reform their identity after their liberation. The youngest nation in Thiarbre, they vie for recognition even as their former conqueror dismisses their claims.
Cmieloniki’s rule over the Tribes was shaken when Qadogom and its Despot swept across the Theocracy's southeastern border. Overwhelmed by the mounted army, soldiers and supplies were diverted to the battlefront to combat Qadogom. Under the leadership of Xochgani Ly, the tribe of Kroz overthrew the priests governing them. News of successful rebellion swept across the occupied territories, inspiring others to follow Ly’s example. Before long, all of the occupiers had been overthrown. The resulting power vacuum was settled when the elders congregated and created the Krozulan Tribes, electing Ly as elder among elders, the Tekadana.
A loose union of tribes, Krozulan struggles not only with national identity but with tribal identity in general. Although some elders survived Cmieloniki rule and retook leadership positions as their tribe’s Dana, other tribes’ elders passed away without teaching tradition. Tribes that could not overcome this struggle as well as those with warlike traditions turned to banditry, attacking and even breaking through the territory of Aesis. However, Ly and the Dana work ceaselessly to restore the glory of their rainforest culture.
Krozulan is in ‘unending, ceaseless’ war with Cmieloniki and refuses any negotiation with them. Officially neutral toward Qadogom, the people of Krozulan nonetheless hold them in high regard. They hope for friendly relations with Frateo, which would legitimize them as a proper nation on the world stage instantly. Their relationship with Aesis is on the negative side, as they are part of the imperialistic Vigilae nation, and thus bandits targeting them are ignored by Ly and the Dana.]
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Cmieloniki Theocracy]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Klemalas Tokari->KlemalasCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Eminence of the Rivers]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Ruled via a theological caste system, Cmieloniki has one of the most drastic divisions between upper and lower classes. Surrounded by wealth and luxury, the upper castes of priests, priestesses, their favored, and high enforcers live in sprawling cities. Lower castes such as regular enforcers, the newly converted, and disgraced officials live in shanty towns, barely scraping by as snow blankets them. Cmieloniki offers the lower castes only one way to improve: an annual exam, which elevates status upon passing. Because Blicekhi teaches perseverance and figurative reincarnation, the lower castes are taught to be happy in their suffering.
Blicekhi formed in response to the disappearance of the gods, a religion that taught that the gods simply reincarnated into the various rivers all around the world. Given that most settlements were built near rivers, it quickly became a dominant religion and led to the founding of Krzeoch. A militant theocracy from the beginning, the people of Krzeoch created encampments among enemies under the guise of missionary accommodation.
After quietly transporting soldiers to the missionary housing, they struck and absorbed the areas surrounding their river before moving and conquering westward, creating the Cmieloniki Theocracy. Using the same tactics, they conquered the tribes west of Aesis one by one. Their warpath was only halted just recently, as Qadogom cleaved through their southeastern border. The Krozulan Tribes took advantage of this distraction and successfully rebelled.
Cmieloniki is in active war with both Qadogomese Despotate and the Krozulan Tribes, although most of their war effort is against the former. Since it claims ownership of the river that passes through Krozulan, Aesis and Qadogom, it considers the lands surrounding the river its own. On a bigger scale, it considers the entire territory of the Krozulan Tribes its own and actively denies that they ever lost it. Additionally, it is somewhat hostile to other nations claiming to have god(s) or representatives of gods leading them, such as Astope, Seridazar and Eri.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[Dusetmenean Trade Company]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Mikleikko Svantteri->MikleikkoCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Carnivore of the Trade]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[A nation where money and goods flow like water, the Dusetmenean Trade Company acts not only as a commercial hub, but as a gateway between Thiarbre and Vostoli. Due to extensive treaties and economic pressure, most goods transported between continents must pass through Dusetmene.
Once ruled over by the god of beasts Vaenndyr, Hvolstanes was actually a religious instead of economic hub. Although records of pre-disappearance Dusetmenean people have largely been lost to time, fragments describe that the last thing Vaenndyr gave before they left was the ‘gift of beasts’. This is understood as the starting point of the Diermies people, humans with animal characteristics. The Diermies people, lacking a patron deity, quickly had to rebuild with another focus: economy.
Dusetmene’s position, surrounded on nearly all sides by sea, forms the basis of its trading power. The Diermies people were and still are avid shipbuilders, although their navy is built for cargo space rather than sheer military power like Highquall. The capital of Hvolstanes is notably colder than the southern territory, where snow and winter are more familiar than warmth.
For a long time Seridazar was considered an enemy as their geographical location allowed them to trade with The Flowering Marches. When their reputation eventually allowed trade with Caprae, Dusetmene grew further embittered. However, the current Miraim started buying food en masse from Dusetmene, dissipating the tension greatly. Dusetmene holds great dislike for Caprae instead, as they are disallowed from trading. They hold a special relationship with Qadogom, practically buying peace preemptively, although some tension with specific traders arose as Qadogom declared war on Cmieloniki.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[The Floating Citadel]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Timo Feysepp->TimoCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Carefree, Disastrous Wizard]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[An esteemed living place, school and fortress for any person magically inclined, the Floating Citadel is considered a bastion for any mage who does not specialize in divination. Although the smallest country in Thiarbre, its products and people make it irreplaceable and drastically important.
Created by a powerful witch who grew tired of people’s endless requests, the Floating Citadel is a massive castle held in the sky by magical power. Mages flocked to the castle for varying reasons such as wanting to work with the founder, investigating the magical disturbance or growing tired of requests themselves. Together the mages outfitted the Citadel with magic defenses, making it one of the few nations that could stand up to Wevendh’s dragons and later, the airships of the Chromoric League.
The ground below the Citadel is dark and treacherous, filled with many craters. This is the result of many unstable compounds, experiments gone wrong or magical disasters waiting to happen being thrown to the ground and extinguished with extreme prejudice. As a result, traders and travelers must rendezvous with one of the mages outside of the shadow in order to obtain safe passage.
It is well-known that the Citadel is rivals with Bitterbrook, a city that was formed by dissatisfied mages who left. They are also commonly thought to be rivals of the Chromoric League. They are officially neutral to every nation however, under the idea that magic is supposed to be used for the good of everyone.
](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")
[
{(size:1.7)[$codexTitle[The Flowering Marches]]}
{(size:1.4)[[[Leader: Hyacinthe von Hartmann->HyacintheCodex]]]}
{(size:1.2)[$leaderTitle[Moonlight Waltz]]}
---]
(align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[A paradise dyed in a rainbow of flowers, the Flowering Marches is a nation famous not only for its absolute neutrality, but its art. Its myriad flowers provide vast quantities of dye and paint, making it integral to any artist’s journey.
Vibrant during the day, the people of the Marches go about their daily lives passionately. Dyes and paint are processed around the clock, bought up at almost the same pace by aspiring and expert painters. Textiles of unmatched quality can be found even in simple bakeries. Outside of the cities, people roam the vast flower fields, harvesting, painting the landscape or just enjoying the landscape.
When night falls, however, it becomes eerily quiet. Devoid of nocturnal animals, the only ones brave enough to venture into the inky silence are desperate travelers, the most intrepid of painters, and the mysterious Goespeur. No matter the night or weather, dark clouds block the light of the moon everywhere except the clocktower in Galanthus and the surrounding flowers. It is said that if one wants to meet the Goespeur, one only needs to wait for the night and follow the moon.
The motto of The Flowering Marches is absolute neutrality. Ever since its establishment, the Marches have refused to aid or hinder any nation. They are not afraid to exert the laws of their nation within its borders however, as historical records from Tourend detail a bloody battle where the white flowers of Galanthus were dyed red. According to the accounts, a single person slaughtered all of the Tourend forces before they could even blink.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[One of the world’s foremost politicians and speakers, Prince Regent Camille’s charming words are rivaled only by his face. Considered one of the most desirable people in the world, many rulers vie for his hand in marriage, some for diplomatic power, some for his beauty, and most for both. His desirability has given him the nickname Golden Rose of Frateo.
Much is unknown of Camille’s past, as he has taken great care to erase any information that the other Frateonian princes could use against him. However, the rumor goes that, although Camille was born to a noble family, he was considered so far from the throne that it was impossible for him to become ruler. It was by collaborating and scheming with ten of the highest ranking princes and orchestrating direct confrontations between them that he was able to take advantage of the chaos and supplant them all as ruler.
A large part of Camille’s success as a leader revolves around his personal meetings with rulers of other nations. While the genuine nature of these interpersonal relationships could be called into question, there is little question that the nations’ relationships are better after them. However, this has led to him catching the attention of the Miraim of Seridazar, who wants Camille to join his harem. Perhaps as a result of the Miraim’s frequent talks about Camille’s appearance, his description is readily available.
Strawberry blond hair frames his pale face and bright pink eyes. In the sunlight it is easier to see the pink tones in his skin. At the bottom left of his plush lips is a small beauty mark. Standing at 5’7”, his official garb consists of a jacket, tightly fit shirt and pants, as well as high boots. His jacket is short and red, the back only covering the upper half of his upper torso. Epaulets sewn into the shoulders lead into long sleeves that cover his arms completely. Meant to be left open, the jacket’s two sides leave a gap in the front middle. The shirt and pants underneath are heavily filigreed with white lace, creating beautiful patterns incorporating roses. His black boots are high, almost coming up to his knees.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[The President of Agerhaerst is an old and frail man, duly elected for his farming expertise. However, the actual power of the nation is held by the stern Prime Minister, Edmund Malster. A brewer who taught himself how to be a knight, he is held as a symbol of the will of the farmers. As his military oversight leaves him little time to brew, he is known as the Fallow Minister.
The latest in the line of Malsters, Edmund was supposed to have been just another producer of malt and whiskey. However, as the Chromoric League had not yet been formed and Agerhaerst kept its borders only out of goodwill, it was a prime target for bandits. After years of being robbed, Edmund chanced upon a young knight from Wevendh. Begging for help, he had a rushed, week-long training crash course and was gifted the knight’s lance and horse. Edmund returned on the eve of a bandit attack, dispersing the surprised ruffians and inspiring his fellows to do the same. He was elected Prime Minister shortly thereafter, and soon trained an entire division of knights which drove the bandits off completely.
Edmund is now often seen patrolling the Agerhaerst’s borders, clad in his signature dark green armor. His helmet, shaped like an elk, features large antlers. When he is not on active guard duty, he dresses much like his fellow farmers, although his middle-parted raven hair, strong blue eyes, and oval glasses remain identifying features. Austere and commanding, many are surprised to see that he is only 5’3”. Naturally on the fairer side, he largely avoids a tan due to his armor.
He has a close relationship with the Ingeniator of Chromore, and, although they don’t meet frequently, he has cordial discussions with the Praecantator of the Floating Citadel and the Prince Regent of Frateo. His relationship with you is confusing, as he seems to be openly hostile where he was very open toward your brother.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[The most prolific and intelligent of Chromore’s three leaders, Ingeniator Fenborz Hsuefte is one of the world’s foremost inventors. His long list of accolades include mana-electricity converters, a device predicting the movement of planets and, of course, the airship. Although not a popular name outside of his nation, in Chromore, he is well known as the Hidden Coefficient.
Although he is considered the highest figure in Chromoric politics, he very rarely exercises that right. He instead leaves administration in the hands of his colleagues Blaylock and Nicodemus, locking himself away in his quarters and tinkering away at inventions day and night. He seemingly only emerges to give rallying speeches to his people, but his secrecy is only truly be broken around his colleagues, the Prime Minister of Agerhaerst, and assassins. One of the most persistent rumors is that the latter meet ignoble ends at Fenborz’ personally invented weaponry.
Even on the rare occasions that he makes a public appearance, a cloak and mask obscures his identity. Decorated with imagery of gears and cogs, the bronze mask has four holes offering small peeks at his tan skin and bright green eyes. Everything else is swaddled in blue robes patterned with yellow like flashes of lightning, the cloth of which is so thick that no one can discern his actual figure. Coupled with his reluctance to reveal information about himself, he is shrouded in mystery.
Rumors abound as to why exactly Fenborz dresses in such a manner. One of the most popular theories is that he was in a horrific accident during the construction of the first airship. Another is that he is in fact a highly advanced automaton who achieved sentience. A growing contingent of people even suspect the truth of the voice they hear during his speeches, questioning if the deep and rumbling voice is the result of a voice changer.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[At first glance a lecherous man who cares only for filling his harem, Miraim Ziatet I is actually a cunning strategist. His bold decisions and forceful nature ensures that Seridazar remains a world power, respected even by nations across the vast seas. In the language of Seridazar, his name is ‘He who is Prepotent’.
Born the son of a baker, the then-named Zerimes quickly grew into a notorious flirt. Despite the meagre education he received, he overtook his teachers quickly and established his own school, which is now considered a holy site. His carefree days of sleeping around and teaching were interrupted when priests arrived at his small hometown, declaring him the next Miraim. Upon arriving at the capital, his first two actions were to create a harem and then declare immediate war with Agerhaerst.
At first the people were angry as Agerhaerst was their sole provider of food, but he quickly established food supply lines with Astope, Dusetmene and Wevendh. As a result, food prices dropped almost miraculously. Coupled with a dramatic defense against Qadogom, he quickly rose to legendary status among his people. Some people question whether his current obsession with the Prince Regent of Frateo is genuine infatuation or a move to control the intricate web of diplomacy from its hub.
Many statues of Ziatet have been erected showing off his defined musculature, although their stylization exaggerates his 5’9” stature. Chestnut skin is accompanied by choppy, deep purple hair and bright yellow eyes. His royal attire is made up almost entirely of loose bands of translucent silk in shades of yellow, purple and pink. A few are wrapped around his left shoulder, hanging off the right, forming a basic sash. His bottom is made up of many different bundles, bunched up just enough that his crotch and behind are properly obscured, but high parts of his legs are visible.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[The twin Diarchs of Astope, Ypolophon and Agiomedes are considered true artisans of performance. Renowned for a peerless singing voice and flawless acting respectively, their performances become instant classics, and golden standards for all attempting the same show afterward.
Being identical twins, it is difficult to tell the twins apart by looks alone. They both share a height of 5’11”, shoulder length fluffy and fiery red hair, copper skin, and heterochromatic eyes. They even share the order of eyes, green on the left and yellow on the right. Their differences become more apparent through personality, however. Ypolophon is known to be the gentler of the two, singing airily as he walks. Agiomedes on the other hand is usually the first to talk, teasing without remorse.
The lineage of the twins is hotly contested among historians, split between historical and legendary factions. It is said that the twins are descended from the founder of Astope, Desmosion, and an unknown god. The historical faction point to their almost supernatural theatrical skill as proof of their demigodhood, while the legendary faction dismisses it as rare talent or plain magic.
Preoccupied with their craft, the twins rarely concern themselves with meeting other leaders. Their sole exception is you, a habit started even before your brother’s disappearance. They have floated the idea of marrying you by your brother multiple times, especially when you happened to be in the vicinity. Now that you’re king, their proposals have only intensified.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Fearsome warrior of the bow and steed, thundering hooves mark the arrival of the Despot of Qadogom, Joishung Yesenuge. Strongest among a people who value strength, his feats are looked upon with awe and respect. Unlike the Despots before him, his warlike nature is tempered by willingness to establish mutual respect.
Great-grandson of one of Qadogom’s greatest rulers, Khojin, the legacy he inherited was tarnished. With his grandfather having lost land to Astope and his father having failed to take any, his people grew flippant. In order to prove himself, he allowed his people to challenge him. Eight warriors challenged him, and although they managed to kill his steed, he killed them and stole their horse eight times in return, giving him the title Eight-Horse Arrow.
With his people behind him, he led them into the hills of the Cmieloniki Theocracy. Taking vast swathes of land from them, the invasion continues even without his presence. With most of his forces harassing the Theocracy, he and an elite force invaded Seridazar. They were halfway to Zarraqeir when they were met by the Miraim and his guards. A standstill at first, the Miraim used the desert to his advantage and repelled the invasion. Forging a peace treaty then and there, the intellectuals of Qadogom actually praised him upon return for getting peace with the largest nation in Thiarbre with only a single battle, having lost little.
While few actually see Joishung for the fleetness of his steed, descriptions and even depictions of him circulate widely in Cmieloniki, and to a lesser extent Seridazar and Dusetmene. 5’7”, he looks taller than he actually is due to a messy high ponytail. With long bangs, his cinnamon brown hair is left wild around his beige skin and hazel eyes. The specific pieces of his clothing aren’t consistent, but he favors fresh leather armor.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Having recently taken the title from a now-retired general, Obex Rogelio Gorgori is almost woefully young and inexperienced. While skilled in simulated conflict, Rogelio has not been in a single actual battle. Only time will tell if the unpracticed warrior can live up to the lion behind his nation.
Short among compatriots, his peers both figuratively and literally look down on his 5’4” height. No scars litter his honey-toned skin, and both his close-cropped pomegranate hair and dark pink eyes give off an air of boyishness. The only thing saving him from being scrawny is the muscle built from years of training. He wears the uniform of an Obex, the standard mail armor of Vigilaean infantry, although decorated with a red cape that hangs from the left shoulder.
A leader through circumstance, Rogelio usually would not even be considered for the role. Born and raised in Aesis, he was trained by people on the brink of veterancy. By the time he became an official soldier, those people had already retired and returned to Vigilae, or stuck around for low effort jobs. With the older generation uninterested in filling the position, it fell to Rogelio by default. His nervous optimism is the only thing concrete about his reign so far.
Due to Aesis’ personnel problem, Rogelio has little time to visit other nations. As such, only those that take the time to visit him such as the Prince Regent of Frateo or the Eiates of Cmieloniki have any meaningful relationship with him.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Axe-wielding warrior and hopeful diplomat, Tekadana Xochgani Ly is a revolutionary leader and advocate of the Old Ways. Muscled and daunting, Ly is nonetheless a quiet man who wants little more than the rebirth of tribal culture.
Born under Cmieloniki rule, Ly experienced firsthand the theological caste system his tribe was put under. One of the most ardent keepers of the Old Ways, his family suffered obstacles at almost every turn, set by the foreign aristocratic priests. Barred from schools, Ly was taught and trained by his family, who smuggled food and books under the cover of darkness. He grew into a quiet if eloquent man, but also a warrior of immense strength. Memorizing the motions of the Cmieloniki forces, he drew up plans and distributed them to his tribesmen.
When the forces thinned thanks to Qadogom’s invasion, Ly struck the first blow and single-handedly took the fortress overseeing Kroz. One of the strongest fortresses built by the Cmieloniki, its overthrow served as a uniting, revolutionary spark and earned Ly the title Defiant Boar, and eventually, Tekadana.
Ly published and circulated his description in an effort to gain the attention and hopefully recognition of other nations, although some of his tribesmen thought it fit to reword his modest piece. A towering figure not only for his 6’4", height but also his thick muscles, Ly wears a boar headdress and a dark green shawl that covers his body from the shoulders down. When in combat, he removes the shawl, revealing caramel skin, intricately tattooed arms, loose and baggy pants, and his abs. His hair is a dark green and his eyes are a moderate cyan.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Self-assured tool of the divine, Eiates Klemalas Tokaris commands the followers of the Blicekhi religion. Seen as the only man who can directly commune with the rivers, his power over Blicekhi is absolute. His arrogance is backed by wealth and theological power.
Born an enforcer, Klemalas was assigned from a young age to the son of a priest, Aurel. Growing up together, Klemalas experienced the high life at Aurel’s side, and in return spoke of the squalor of the lower caste. When they became young men, Aurel chose Klemalas as his favored and pushed to have Klemalas become a priest, an unprecedented caste change. One of the highest ranking priests, angered, took up a sword and attempted to silence Aurel. Klemalas shielded his friend, becoming blinded in one eye and gaining a wicked scar. It is said that he became able to commune with the rivers at that moment, and the priest was struck by divine retribution. The Eiates at that time retired as the people clamored for Klemalas to rule.
The only enforcer turned priest in the history of Cmieloniki, Klemalas pushes for the modernization of his military. At first belittled by the high ranking priests, Qadogom and Krozulan shredded through their outdated weapons and proved Klemalas right. His theological fervor is also great, forcefully sending priests through Aesis or to Dusetmene via sea, looking to gain support from other nations via conversion.
Clad in the vestments of an Eiates, a short, white and gold two-layered cloak decorates the shoulders over a flowing robe of sage green. His mint green hair is long but worn with waterfall braids, adding a feminine edge to his otherwise manly face. A large scar covers his left eye, which has long since gone white compared to the right, which is brown and ringed with yellow. His complexion has been compared to fresh river foam.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Ruthless businessman and owner of the largest fleet of trade vehicles in Dusetmene, Handelpias Mikleikko Svantteri is the undisputed richest person in Thiarbre and Vostoli. Unafraid of the darkness, Mikleikko rules even the shadowy underworld of economy.
Donning a sleeveless hoodie, Mikleikko proudly shows off his built arms and the tattoo on his right shoulder, the logo of his trading company, fangs surrounding a globe. Many catch glimpses of milky white skin, light blue eyes and a sharp smile from under the hood. When the hood comes down, fluffy grey hair with black stripes can be seen, although most people’s attention is drawn by his cat ears. Accompanied by a tail lower down, these give away Mikleikko’s Diermies heritage.
Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Mikleikko enjoyed the privilege of coming from one of Dusetmene’s richest families. The fifth child of his family, he was locked in ferocious competition with his siblings to establish himself as rightful heir. Originally in dead last, he realized that his siblings dealt exclusively in only legal trades.
With nothing to lose, he dove into the black market and began trading. Narrowly escaping dangerous situations time and time again, Mikleikko’s income eventually dwarfed even those of his parents. He was named heir and, with two avenues of wealth, he amassed such a fortune that he simply bought the position of Handelpias. He already had a stranglehold on both legal and illegal trade, so most people shrugged and moved on.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[A diminutive and eccentric young man, those that underestimate Praecantator Timo Feysepp fall to his immense magical power. Although carefree and innocent, his innate command over the elements has been likened to the force of nature itself. The Magic Council keeps a close eye on him, as they fear that he could create an irreversible disaster.
Born to an unassuming couple of mages, Timo’s abilities manifested at extreme speed. Where other mage children could only produce an ember, Timo was creating entire walls of fire. This rightfully alarmed his teachers and even the Magic Council, who created a program specifically for Timo to enhance and control his powers. When he graduated, he was automatically elevated to Praecantator, as his abilities had long since dwarfed those of the Council. Even Bitterbrook begrudgingly announced that Timo was an unprecedented talent.
At only 5 feet tall, Timo is dwarfed by his peers and students even though he is often older than them. It doesn’t help that his black hat is massive, the brim many times wider than his head, and its witch-like, trailing point extending far behind him. Unlike many of his peers he forgoes robes, instead wearing a pink silk vest over a black shirt and purple puffy breeches over furred black boots. His scruffy orange hair often falls in front of his round glasses, blocking the view of his orange peel-colored eyes. His freckles are numerous and prominent against his pale skin.
Timo does little if anything diplomatically, administratively and economically, instead valued more as a teacher. This does not stop him from acting as a figurehead though, traveling to other nations on a whim. It is because of him that cakes are readily available in most, if not all leaders’ offices, as he tends to sulk and cause surges of magical power if he is not fed properly.
](align:"<==>")+(box:"X")[Keeper of the clocktower and dancer among the moonlit flowers, Goespeur Hyacinthe von Hartmann is a walking enigma. A perpetual fog surrounds memories of any event involving him, making it difficult for even the citizens of the Flowering Marches to speak of him.
Unlike leaders who purposely scrubbed their pasts clean, not a single person can claim that they have any recollection of even basic details such as the time of Hyacinthe’s arrival, his age, or if they’d even seen him before he was Goespeur. Only the recent or repeated can be spoken about, as many can recall Hyacinthe’s habit of sitting against the clock face of his tower, or dancing in one of the many flower fields. As he wears the same thing all the time, it is one of the few extensively documented things about him.
Boasting the only wardrobe that rivals the Prince Regent of Frateo, Hyacinthe wears a monochrome ensemble. Starting from the head, translucent black veils are attached to the back of a black beret. His upper torso is clad in a white high-collar button-up dress shirt, which is further layered by a black sleeveless four button vest with a wide chest window. In the window sits a large but neat cravat, dyed black with white edges. His black shorts begin at the waist and stop mid-thigh, meeting extremely high white socks. Black platform boots complete the look.
His snowy white hair is short but densely layered, many strands forming textured waves. His skin manages to be even paler than his hair and completely unblemished like powdered sugar. The feature most people remember, however, are his wide, blood red eyes. He occasionally carries a black umbrella decorated with many hanging chains.
]After what feels like ages of gifts, praises and flirtations sent your way, the families finally cease and return to their seats. The orator in his booming voice announces, "Thus ends the ceremony celebrating the ascension of our Exalted Prince to Serpent of the Peak, High Lord of the Mountains and Grand Captain of the Wyvern Knights, the most illustrious King $fName $lName."
The applause is deafening, the resulting stampede of people to the dining hall even moreso. The throne room is emptied of guests at a staggering rate, the crowd all too eager to partake of food normally limited to royals. Even the old orator joins them, sprightly in his step.
You're glad to see them go, really. The air clears, the heat dissipates, and you can finally take a breath. The thousands of eyes watching your every move are reduced to only two pairs, that of your most loyal servants. Although friendly facets in your life thus far, their roles will prove vital to your rule.
This is because...
(link: "You intend to conquer other nations.")[(set: $playerAggro to 1)(goto: "Intro3")]
(link: "You wish to observe the diplomatic ties of other nations.")[(set: $playerDiplo to 1)(goto: "Intro3")]
(link: "You want to find your brother.")[(set: $playerBrother to 1)(goto: "Intro3")]
(link: "You just want to marry as many people as you can.")[(set: $playerSeduce to 1)(goto:"Intro3")]
[[You'll figure it out as you go.->Intro3]]{(if: $playerAggro is 1)[In the same fashion as the dragon knights that once struck fear into the continent, you want to expand Wevendh borders far beyond the mountains. Although the glory age of wyverns has long since passed, you are sure that you can bring glory to your kingdom once more.]
(elseif: $playerDiplo is 1)[Although your Western neighbors are far more involved in the diplomatic web, there is nothing stopping you from tracing its lines. Who knows? Perhaps your observation will lead into more tangible things. Perhaps, if you dare say, you could become the center of said web.]
(elseif: $playerBrother is 1)[Callous though it may be, no one would question if you dropped the issue of your kin. The world is a dangerous place, and any number of grisly fates could have befallen your brother. However, you choose to retain hope. Surely the leaders of other nations must have seen his path.]
(elseif: $playerSeduce is 1)[Whether it be by matters of love or lust, you cannot deny that you are interested more in the leaders of fellow nations than in the nations themselves. You'll come to appreciate the latter, surely- just after you marry the leaders first.]
(else:)[No plan is ever truly flawless. Kingdoms are the products not only of planning, but of luck, opportunity, and decision. Setting yourself on just one path now is foolhardy, given your experience. You have the expertise of your general and spymaster to rely on, to boot.]}
Regardless, there is little that can be done within the confines of Wevendh. You consult briefly with your general Fiomuid; although your military is well trained, taking them from their posts at the borders is inadvisable at best. Spirited though he may be, there is latent worry in the way he repeatedly runs his hand through his auburn hair, and the bags under his eyes that are darker than his olive skin. In many cases your forces are smaller than those of rival nations anyway.
Consulting with your spymaster Shizomu fares little better. His lithe body is unusually stiff beneath his leathers, and his normally tidy, if choppy, grey hair is interspersed with stress-whitened strands. They're only a touch lighter than his face, which is usually much pinker- his duties have taken a toll on him, clearly. Wevendh has little diplomatic pressure outside of its own borders. Although self-sufficiency is wonderful for an isolationist and defensive country, it leaves you with little connection to others.
As you retire to your chambers, only one conclusion comes to your mind: you must visit the other nations personally.
The most dangerous part of any nation is its leader, and if you manage to overcome them one way or another the nation is sure to follow. There are conventional ways of doing so, of course, but your mind drifts to tales of the more lecherous rulers who enslaved rivals with lust. Truly, nothing was off the table when it came to love and war.
[[The next day...->NationHub]](unless: $hubCheck is false)[(set: $hubVisits to $hubVisits+1)] {(if: $hubVisits is 1)[Even with the coronation still fresh in everyone's mind, you throw on your traveling garb rather than the heavy finery of a king upon the throne. Your steps are light and speedy as you traverse the castle and its many stairs. The kingdom of Wevendh always knew how to govern itself even in the absence of its king; now you are departing, for the better future of your people.]}
{You arrive at the map room where your general awaits. (if:$hubVisits is 1)[Although surprise clouds his features for a few moments, Fiomuid nods and smiles at the determination present in your features.] (else:)[Anticipating your arrival, Fiomuid looks up from the battle simulations he'd been running with carved, wooden pieces. He clears them quickly and gestures to the world, ripe for your taking.]}
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<img src="images/Vostoliarbre.png">
{Your spymaster arrives shortly afterward, hastily bowing in your presence. (if: $hubVisits is 1)[Shizomu turns to one of the shelves, perusing many of the leather-bound tomes, fingers brushing over detailed guides of wyvern raising, battle tactics, and the history of your nation. He eventually pulls a book free and places it in front of you. "It is probably wise to consult your [[Codex]] before going anywhere, my king."] (else:)[Shizomu once again pulls the Codex off the shelves, although he does little more than place it in front of you. It is clear that he trusts enough in your judgment to know when to consult it.]}
You pore over the map carefully, weighing decisions carefully in your head. Minutes pass before finally, you choose:
{(unless:$endFrateo is true)
[
(link:"Frateo.")
[(goto:"FrateoStart")]
] (else:)[|1>[Frateo](mouseover:?1)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
Agerhaerst.
{(unless:$endChromore is true)
[
(link:"Chromore.")
[(goto:"ChromoreStart")]
] (else:)[|3>[Chromore](mouseover:?3)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
{(unless:$endSeridazar is true)
[
(link:"Seridazar.")
[(goto:"SeridazarStart")]
] (else:)[|4>[Frateo](mouseover:?4)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
{(unless:$endAstope is true)
[
(link:"Astope.")
[(goto:"AstopeStart")]
] (else:)[|5>[Astope](mouseover:?5)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
Qadogom.
Aesis.
Krozulan.
Cmieloniki.
{(unless:$endDusetmene is true)
[
(link:"Dusetmene.")
[(goto:"DusetmeneStart")]
] (else:)[|9>[Dusetmene](mouseover:?9)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
{(unless:$endFloatingCitadel is true)
[
(link:"Floating Citadel.")
[(goto:"FloatingCitadelStart")]
] (else:)[|10>[Floating Citadel](mouseover:?10)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
Flowering Marches.
(if:$endCount is 3)[(if:$eHyacintheEnd is false)[(goto:"EmergencyHyacinthe")]](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(size:1.5)[$leaderTitle[[[Chapter: La Rose d'or et ses Épines->FrateoIntro]]]]
<img src="images/frateo.png">]
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max-width: 100%;
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</style>Double-click this passage to edit it.(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(size:1.5)[$leaderTitle[[[Chapter: Tiānkōng Zhōng De Jìnbù Zhī Chuán->ChromoreIntro]]]]
<img src="images/chromore.png">]
<style> img {
max-width: 100%;
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}
</style>(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(size:1.5)[$leaderTitle[[[Chapter: Hikmat liltaghalub ealaa Alsumi->SeridazarIntro]]]]
<img src="images/seridazar.png">]
<style> img {
max-width: 100%;
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}
</style>{(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(size:1.5)[$leaderTitle[[[Chapter: Dýo os Éna se Lógo, Tragoúdi kai Agápi->AstopeIntro]]]]
<img src="images/astope.png">]}
<style> img {
max-width: 100%;
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</style>Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Taaxiliztli CializtliDouble-click this passage to edit it.(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(size:1.5)[$leaderTitle[[[Chapter: Glimtet av Gull og Snø->DusetmeneIntro]]]]
<img src="images/dusetmene.png">]
<style> img {
max-width: 100%;
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}
</style>{(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(size:1.5)[$leaderTitle[[[Chapter: Oranž Võlur Maagilises Lossis->FCIntro]]]]
<img src="images/citadel.png">]}
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</style>Double-click this passage to edit it.For Later:
{(unless:$endFrateo is true)
[
(link:"Frateo.")
[(goto:"FrateoStart")]
] (else:)[|1>[Frateo](mouseover:?1)[ - Chapter Finished.]]}
[[Agerhaerst.->AgerhaerstStart]]
[[Chromore.->ChromoreStart]]
[[Seridazar.->SeridazarStart]]
[[Astope.->AstopeStart]]
[[Qadogom.->QadogomStart]]
[[Aesis.->AesisStart]]
[[Krozulan.->KrozulanStart]]
[[Cmieloniki.->CmielonikiStart]]
[[Dusetmene.->DusetmeneStart]]
[[Flowering Marches.->FloweringMarchesStart]]It is often said that if one wants to find the Floating Citadel, one only needs to look upward.
While an exaggeration in most corners of Thiarbre, it is wholly true in the heights of Wevendh. Although the Citadel borders three other nations, none can claim to see the intricate runework on each of its ancient bricks except for your kingdom. You imagine that, in the same fashion, someone is gazing out of one of the many windows or peeking from between the battlements, looking down on the mountains.
From your mountain perch you can also see the vast shadow that the castle casts. Small lights, almost like fireflies, line the path of traders as they wait. Occasionally the center lights up in a much bigger flash, giving you temporary sight into the massive craters that litter the ground. With the assistance of a spyglass you swear you can see flakes of snow, some frost spell extinguishing a smoldering pile. The darkness is quick to press in however, and you cannot properly tell before the light is devoured once more.
{Not even the dragon knights at the height of their hubris
(if: $playerAgenda is "Aggro")[considered assaulting the Citadel, as magic could shred through the toughest of scales. While you aren't leading some grand invasion, your end goal is the same. You wonder, ever so briefly, if attempting to conquer a nation of mages is even a good idea.]
(elseif: $playerAgenda is "Diplo")[could leverage a large enough threat to create a concrete peace treaty, both sides keeping the option of war open even though any direct confrontation would be catastrophic. There is a new Praecantator now however; even brokering preemptive peace with him would be a victory.]
(elseif: $playerAgenda is "Brother")[entered the sanctum of the mages, as tensions still ran high. With the wyverns no longer prowling the sky, however, your nations have cooled to respectable neutrality. Fortunate, as it means that you may find genuine aid in finding your brother.]
(elseif: $playerAgenda is "Seduce")[thought themselves as having enough of a marriage prospect to resolve the tension via marriage. You aren't too sure of the Praecantator's identity at that time, but you fully intend to marry the person who now owns that title.]
(else:)[could find a plan to counter such a powerful force, and here you are, intending to stroll in with little more than your instincts. Then again, fortune favors the bold. Your trip may be fortunate yet.]}
There is little to be gained from simply watching, however. Climbing into your personal carriage, you make your way down the mountain.
The journey south is relatively short, but time marches on regardless. By the time you reach the outer ring of the shadow...
(link:"The sun has risen.")[(set:$routeFC to 1)(goto:"FCIntroDay")]
(link:"Night has fallen.")[(set:$routeFC to 2)(goto:"FCIntroNight")]Sunlight dapples against the walls of the Citadel, dyeing it in shades of orange and yellow. One would be forgiven if they thought it a city of gold, but the true treasure lay within; mages, weaving magic by which the world worked.
That doesn't mean that traders didn't flock to it, however.
You soon see the long line of traders you spied earlier, many different nations in one long line that stretches all the way to the center. As royalty you breeze by them, catching sight of a few Miraimate beetle traders and even a Qadogomese tusked cow rider among the horde of Dusetmeneans as you do so. They regard your carriage with obvious scorn before they catch sight of your royal insignia, at which point they start talking.
Once one starts talking, all of them do. As your carriage winds its way around the vast craters, the voices from the caravans go from vague, conspiratorial mutters to doubtful questioning to surprised and expectant. The news travels so fast that you haven't even made it halfway to the center when a person steps directly into your path, bringing your carriage to a whinnying halt.
Any ire you could have had dies when you see orange robes, followed by the insignia of the Floating Citadel. A novice mage, the bottom run of the magical ladder, but still he holds the authority. He is, after all, the only way present to actually enter the Citadel.
The way he fidgets nervously is a bit endearing though.
"Greetings, envoys from..." He pulls up his sleeve and looks down at his wrist. "Wevendh! You can leave your gifts to me, and I will ensure that they reach the Praecantator posthaste."
"The greatest gift a royal can give is their presence. You would imprison the king of Wevendh?" You ask with very little seriousness as you stick your head out from the carriage window.
The mere sight of your face sends the mage into a panicked apology. In the young mage's haste to bow you notice a piece of paper tumbling from his sleeve.
You...
Tell the mage about it.
Pick it up.
[[Tactfully ignore it.->FCID2]]There are better things to do with your time than bullying a novice, and a nervous one at that. Instead, you fix your gaze firmly at the throgouhly embarassed mage and wait for him to compose himself before saying anything further.
"A thousand apologies, your highness. We haven't received word of your arrival."
You knew that already, of course. It was a common tactic among diplomats, especially in Frateo. Arrive suddenly and candidly, so that whoever is receiving you cannot plan or hide behind pretense.
{If you wish to (if: $playerAgenda is "Diplo")[ascertain the Citadel's relationship with your kingdom,] (elseif: $playerAgenda is "Aggro")[bring the castle down from the inside,] (elseif: $playerAgenda is "Brother")[speak to the Praecantator about your brother,] (else:)[take a closer look into the Citadel's workings] this is the best way of going about it.}
"I'm willing to overlook it," You reply simply.
The mage bows once more before spinning on his heel. Rather than escorting you the rest of the way, you watch as he busies himself with his pockets. Producing quantities of some white powder you assume is chalk or some other reagent, he scatters it in a loose circle around your carriage.
You only notice the hum of latent magical energy now, which only grows as the mage proceeds to add symbols to the edge of the circle. When at last he stands straight, he gives you a shy smile. "Direct transportation, your highness. I'm sure you'll be able to find what you seek."
He claps his hands and you only barely manage to close your eyes before the blinding light envelops you. The flash of brightness leaves an imprint on the inside of your eyelids, forcing you to keep them closed for a few seconds more. When at last you open your eyes however, you see the hustle and bustle of the Citadel's main square surrounding you.
Countless mages, witches, wizards and sorcerers run about the grassy field. Your eyes widen and you look down- truly, there is grass beneath your feet as well. The sun shines brightly down on you, although cold air prevents the heat from becoming sweltering. The mages have turned brick into soil and greenery, allowing for a beautiful courtyard. There is castle still yet above you, grand stairs leading up and forward to massive doors of blackthorn. You suppose that that is the fabled Magic Council, especially since very most people give the building a wide berth.
You decide to...
Go up and forward, into the castle.
Go in the opposite direction.
[[Ask someone the whereabouts of the Praecantator.->FCAsk]]Approaching a group of orange robes, they don't even spare you a glance until you are right in front of them. They start scooting over, probably accustomed to strange figures ousting them for one reason or another. Since you don't need the space you hold up a hand, stopping them in place.
"Would you happen to know where the Praecantator is?"
They blink once, twice, and you fear that you may have said something wrong immediately. You take an inward breath of relief when some of them start chatting among themselves, recounting when last they saw the most powerful mage. Given how reclusive the mages are known to be you're quite surprised to learn that the highest and most powerful of them all wanders around so freely that novice mages know where he is.
A witch with jet black hair addresses you while the rest continue piecing together their sights. "I'm guessing he disappeared from class again, huh? This is the fourth time this week. You seniors have it rough."
Seniors must not have a very rigid dress code, as you're still dressed in (admittedly much finer than most people's) traveling garb. What surprises you more than that is how negligent the Praecantator is. While the circumstances are unique in that he teaches, it is not altogether different from the situation the Eiates of Cmieloniki is in. The latter is renowned for diligence, while it seems that the person you are here to visit is the exact opposite.
"I think he's taking a nap near the fountains," A sharp looking young man says from behind thick glasses and an even thicker book. "Really, as detailed as his lectures are, I don't think I could stand it if he started teaching while stuffing his face with sweets."
The group devolves into bickering as you [[turn to leave.->TimoFountainMeet]]Following the advice of the novices, you look around for a fountain. You hear them before you see them- the constant bubbling of water, the soft splashes of water like a running river. Light chatter accompanies it, as well as the chirping of some birds.
Turning a corner, you see several people in red-violet robes. From their age you can make a reasonable guess that they are mages of a much higher echelon than those simply wandering around the courtyard. Like the witch implied earlier, you don't look all that different from them simply because they all wear what they wish. A particularly pious student wears the priestly garb of Cmieloniki, flanked by the translucent silks of a girl from the Miraimate and a dog Diermies, presumably from Dusetmene.
They pale in comparison to the short figure stirring on the edge of one of the largest fountains, however. His massive hat is already a dead ringer, but when the figure rolls over and you are hit with bright, citrus-like colors, you know you have the right person.
He sits up, a large yawn warping his mouth. Rubbing teary eyes, he reaches around clumsily for his glasses. When he finds and puts them on, you are privy to the sight of wide eyes, so bright that they're almost sparkling.
Before the Praecantator can leave or go back to napping, you close the distance with decisive steps. He looks at you with irritation firstly, but when you refuse to back up he finally looks you up and down. He keeps silent for only a second before he gasps loudly, pointing at you excitedly.
"Oh! I know you. Not $broName, but his brother. Don't think I didn't see you in the corner of the meeting room." He says the last part with a teasing tone, as if your brother didn't shoo you out of the room immediately when they made use of it. "On the behalf of the Magic Council and the Floating Citadel, I welcome you! The name's Timo Feysepp!"
You nod, parroting the response expected of you. It comes out rather stiff, since you are still adjusting to the fact that you're no longer Exalted Prince. "I am $fName $lName, the Serpent of the Peak and King of Wevendh."
Timo's face lifts at your name but falls at the mention of your title. Despite how carefree he apparently is with classes, it's apparent that he isn't the same way with fellow leaders. He chooses not to mention your brother any further, instead changing the topic with a bright smile.
"What did you need? Something magical? People say I'm lazy, but I always finish before the deadline!"
"I'd like to talk about allying with your nation."
"Do you know where my brother is?"
[["Would you like to go on a date with me?"->TimoDateStart]]
(link: '"Can I take your hand in marriage?"')[(set: $playerSeduce to $playerSeduce+1)(goto: "TimoPropose")]
[[Attack him.->TimoDiploBadEnd]]You lunge. Timo gasps and his eyes glow.
You become a pile of smoking ash, so thoroughly incinerated by Timo and the red robes that there is no trace of your identity left. Thoroughly flustered Timo orders the others to dispose of your ashes, which end up being carelessly thrown from the battlements.
Maybe attacking the most powerful mage in the world in broad daylight, surrounded by high ranking mages, isn't the best idea.
''Game Over.''Within seconds of your proposal, Timo's face becomes as red as a tomato. His freckles remain dark against the reddish tint, but his pale skin takes to it all the way to his ears. His eyes dart to and fro, but no one seems to have taken notice of the situation. When at last he feels comfortable, he gulps and replies.
"R-Really? That's the first time someone ever offered to marry me. Wow, that's... That's really something!" He starts a nervous laugh, continuing it to an uncomfortable length. "Before I reply, I just wanna know why you want to marry me of all people!"
His wide eyes are now fixed solely on you, lacking any of the jitter it once had. He's focusing with such an intensity that you understand why Timo can channel magic so easily.
Such attention is stifling, however. You reply quickly in an attempt to dispel the tension.
(link: '"I think you\'re cute."')[(set:$playerChaste to $playerChaste+1)(goto:"TimoAccept")]
(link: '"I think you\'re hot."')[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(goto:"TimoAccept")]
"It would be beneficial for both our nations.""That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me!" You doubt that, but Timo's forceful tone brokers no argument. In fact, he is so set in his decision that he grabs your hand and starts dragging you at great speed.
By the time you gather your thoughts enough to ask what he's doing, you're halfway across the courtyard. Timo doesn't reply though, only hurries along even faster. Grass turns to stone beneath you and soon you are ascending the stairs. Timo bounds up the steps two at a time with practiced ease, while you struggle not to trip and eat brick. The bewildered guards open the door just in time for Timo and you to barge into the building of the Magic Council.
The receptionist cannot even get a word in as you barrel past her, to a grand chamber with many seats. At the moment it is empty except for one person, a considerably beast leaning owl Diermies. He doesn't hide any of his disdain for Timo's antics, feathers in all kinds of brown shades fluffed up far more than looks normal.
"I'm getting married, Klaus!" Timo proclaims excitedly.
Klaus quirks up the edge of his lip and his eyes drift over to you. When you're given a taste of the uninhibited annoyance you conclude that he doesn't know who you are. With a shake of the head, Klaus leans forward, making it clear that he's only humoring Timo when he speaks. "Oh yeah? And who did you drag into this little ploy?"
"This is $fName, he's the King of Wevendh!"
"He's the what!?" Klaus stands up, slamming winged arms onto the counter before him. When he lifts his hands to his face you can see subtle cracks in the wood. Pinching the bridge of his nose delicately with large talons, he winces repeatedly, probably in the grip of some headache that comes in waves.
"King of Wevendh! Geez Klaus, you never listen. Anyway, he's my fiancé now!"
Timo brazenly slots himself into your side, maneuvering your arm so that you're holding him. With the excitement just bursting out of Timo, it is easy to forget that you were the one who proposed in the first place.
The frown on Klaus' face is intense. Your title usually gained you more respect and at least polite banter, but in this situation it only serves to make you the prime target for the anger of the Council. Staring at all the empty seats, you thank whatever twist of fate occurred for only one member to be present.
"We indulge your whims out of deferrence for your ability, but this has serious ramifications on the state of the world! This- this //stranger// will have joint leadership over the Citadel!"
Timo clicks his tongue. "Joint leadership! That means I still have a say in running this joint, and I have a say in Wevendh now too! I'll remind you that as much as I let you run things smoothly, strutting and swaggering, I am the Praecantator here!"
Klaus scoffs but adds nothing more, turning his head in defeat.
If Timo was excited earlier, he's absolutely exhilarated now. Bouncing on his feet, he looks at you with a massive grin. "When should we have our wedding?"
(link:"Tomorrow.")[(set:$timoMarriage to true)(goto:"TimoRushWedding1")]
"Whenever you're ready."
"Let's have it in secret."The dominant species of the world, humans have spread far and wide. Their resourcefulness and willingness to explore every possibility has practically made them the successors of the gods.Humans that were given the gift of beasts, the vast majority of Diermies hail from Dusetmene. They are characterized by their animal-like characteristics, although they vary wildly in intensity. Some may have minor additions such as animal ears or tails, while some may feature heavily furred or feathered bodies. Curiously, regardless of the degree of beastliness, the face always remains human.The gods were beings of immense supernatural power and undisputed rulers of the world before their sudden disappearance. Such was their importance that history is split before and after they decided to leave. The source of the original religions, many sprang up afterward to explain why their departure and refusal to stay any longer. Their influence is still felt in the world, as many seek to emulate their ways.Technological marvels imbued with magical cores, automata are rare not for lack of material, but for the lack of cooperation. No automata officially exist, but it is not uncommon for rogue mages and inventors to have one as an assistant. Many argue that the existence of automata is dangerous and that is why they are not produced en masse, but some more cynical theorists believe it is simply selfishness and rivalry that separates magic and technology.
It is important to note that Automata are different than the automated guards found in Chromore, as they run purely on stored electricity. Although said electricity comes from the harnessing of mana cubes, no magic is imbued in the mechanical guards at all. They are also incapable of independent thought, unlike Automata.Timo takes your suggestion of 'tomorrow' extremely seriously, commanding whoever came in earshot to help with setting up the wedding in the courtyard. At first they helped simply because they thought it was another flight of fancy bolstered by Klaus telling them to put effort in, but when they saw Timo leaping into your arms (and repeatedly at that) they realized his sincerity.
Like news of your arrival spread to the Citadel, the news of your wedding spreads quickly through the mages and with the castle newly abuzz, down to the traders. You don't need to speak with anyone to know that this would be an international headline, as marriages between leaders were mementous occasions.
(if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)
[//Public opinion of you in Frateo has improved slightly.//]
(set:$opinionFrateo to $opinionFrateo+1)
You watch your fiancé run around fussing with flowers and decorations. While he took the proposal relatively flippantly, he's organizing it with the passion of a man possessed. You get the feeling that he's probably not used to receiving positive reactions from other people, so he jumped at the first chance to receive affection.
The venue comes together nicely, a little kitschy but more than enough for most people's weddings. It isn't exactly royal, at least until Timo shoos everyone away and stands back.
The magical pressure is intense, sending an uncomfortable prickling sensation over your skin. Timo's eyes glow brightly as he sticks out his hands. You watch with wonder as emptiness becomes substance, material literally appearing out of thin air. Timo's hands wave smoothly, building a highly detailed edifice decorated with magical symbols and, to your pleasant surprise, wyverns. Large gaps between the marble walls and in spaces along the roof are filled with glass.
When glass doors are set in place, Timo lowers his hands and looks back at his glasswork venue. What would take Frateo architects months to construct was simply willed into being by Timo in mere minutes. Even his fellow mages are astounded.
Your fiancé bounds toward you without having broken a sweat. "Did I do good, $fName?"
[["Of course."->TimoRushWedding2]]
(link:"Hug him.")[(set:$playerChaste to $playerChaste+1)(goto:"TimoRushWedding2")]
(link:"Kiss him.")[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(goto:"TimoRushWedding2")]The smile you receive in return is as priceless as the sun setting behind you.
The next day comes by extremely quickly.
A party of Wevendh attendants surround you in the Praecantator's room. Having rushed to the Citadel as soon as they received news of your wedding, they are the only reason you currently wear the traditional wedding attire of Wevendh; wyvern riding leathers engraved with every major event of Wevendh history, and a crown of white gold.
You were supposed to have stayed in the guest room, presumably under the keen supervision of the Magic Council since the members who could come fast enough rallied so hard for it. However, Timo once again threw his leadership weight around and demanded that you stay the night with him. Falling asleep next to the bundle of energy was difficult, but when he crashed, he crashed hard.
The night was silent and, when you awoke, you found the room empty.
A bell tolls from somewhere high above you, signaling the start of the ceremony. You practically have to bat off the assistants who insist on retouching your makeup before you can leave the room. You make your way down winding stairs and torch-lit hallways before you emerge into the sunlight once more.
A long white carpet forms your path to the greenhouse-like building. People stare- it is not the same kind of reverence you have come to expect from your people, as they are not yours just yet. The mages look on with the ever-burning curiosity of theirs, doubtlessly theorizing how you so easily took the hand of their Praecantator. You laugh inwardly as you imagine telling them that you just asked.
You reach the end of the carpet, where Klaus is waiting with several other important-looking faces. Some arrive just after you, hurriedly taking seats. They provide an entire spectrum of emotions, but if there's anything they share, it's resigned acceptance.
Heads turn as [[your fiancé makes his appearance.->TimoRushWedding3]]Instead of entirely forgoing the massive hat and colorful wardrobe he is known for, Timo dresses in a more elegant version of his garb.
Donning a similarly black cavalier hat, a large white and blue feather sticks out from its side. The pinks and purples of his vest are relegated to a large, winding scarf around his neck, starting at light pink and ending in deep violet. Trading silk for wool, his thick vest is now plaid cyan and white, although it still sits atop a simple white shirt. The puff of his breeches disappears, the now straight garment ending at his knees. Boots are replaced by buckled shoes, and the space in between is covered by long white socks. When Timo steps into the sunlight, a glint comes from his face- glasses, framed with gold.
The crowd bursts into applause, causing the already fidgety Timo to shake further in shyness. Probably unused to their leader showing any form of shame, the applause only intensifies until Timo hides his face behind a large bouquet. Fresh passionflowers, their corona filaments still short, hide the blushing groom's face.
You hear a long, drawn out sigh as members of the Magic Council (and now you) look at Klaus. The Diermies smooths down his clothing and stands before launching himself above the crowd. With just two wingbeats he soars above the guests, landing next to Timo. He leads Timo down the carpet, convincing the Praecantator to lower the bouquet about halfway across.
Smiling when Timo draws nearer, your fiancé practically throws Klaus off of him as he suddenly sprints toward you. When he leaps you manage to catch him, the momentum sending you both into a spin. Thankfully you're both strong enough and Timo small enough to retain control, spinning to the sound of your fiancé's delightful laughter.
When at last you set him down, Klaus has returned to his seat. Although the Diermies continues to be annoyed, all the other members of the Magic Council seem to have come around by the width of their smiles. The oldest member there, a true sage in every sense of the word, launches into a spiel of the history of both the Citadel and Wevendh. It is only halfway through that you realize he isn't just rambling, it's a proper speech about unification and the joining of the two nations.
When he finishes, a witch of generous proportions wraps it all up. "If this leads our Praecantator to happiness, who are we to oppose it? The Magic Council stands unified in our approval. Welcome, Cantator $lName."
(if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)
[//Public opinion of you in the Floating Citadel has improved significantly.//]
(set:$opinionFloatingCitadel to $opinionFloatingCitadel+3)
Unlike the extravagant balls of Frateo or even the mighty feasts in Wevendh, the ceremony just kind of... ends there. Mages are busy people, so they disperse back into the corners of the castle. The upside to that however is that the wedding gifts are both numerous and valuable, the pile of baubles alone enough to put a sizable dent in anyone's fortune.
Of course, those aren't the most valuable thing you got out of this marriage. It was...
(link:"Partial control of the Floating Citadel.")[(set:$playerAggro to $playerAggro+1)(goto:"TimoWeddingAftermath")]
(link:"The good graces of the Magic Council.")[(set:$playerDiplo to $playerDiplo+1)(goto:"TimoWeddingAftermath")]
(link:"Your husband.")[(set:$playerChaste to $playerChaste+1)(goto:"TimoWeddingAftermath")]
(link:"Your husband's ass.")[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(goto:"TimoWeddingAftermath")]Members of the Magic Council are among the last to leave, making sure that they talk to you at least once. Their presences are fleeting however, each one having duties all across the world. Grave matters that they interrupted solely because Timo's marriage was quite literally a world changing event. They hammer it into your head over and over again that your husband has the potential to become a walking disaster.
It's almost hard to believe when your husband hugs you tightly, laying his head on your chest.
When at last the entirety of the Magic Council has disappeared into parts unknown (aside from Klaus, who simply walked back into the Council's meeting room), only you and Timo remain in your wedding building.
"So, uh, what happens now? It's so weird! I feel like I can do everything the same as before but I shouldn't!" The cavalier hat of his tips back a lot more, letting you see the mix of anxiety and excitement in his face. "What do you think, honey?"
"I return to Wevendh."
"Show me around the Citadel."
(link:'"We consummate our marriage."')[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(goto:"TimoHoneymoon")]
"Well, what do you want to do?"(if:$timoSex is false)["Consummate? But- But we're both guys."
{(if: $playerStyle is "Chaste")[The suggestion makes you blush, and you were the one who gave it. Although you were more comfortable with the subtler, gentler displays of affection, you cannot help the feeling bubbling up in your chest when you look at Timo's adorable face. Wrapping him up in a hug, you whisper into his ear. "I really want to do this with you, that's all. Is that okay?"] (elseif: $playerStyle is "Lewd")["That doesn't matter," You say with a sharp smile. Already you were imagining Timo sprawled out on the bed, your tongue tracing the freckles all over his body. "If we're really going to be husbands, we need to start getting to know one another. Habits, hobbies, personality- and of course, bodies. If you give your body to me, I will give mine to you. Doesn't that sound fair?"] (elseif: $playerStyle is "Cold")["Although you're uninterested in the touchy-feely stuff, there's no reason you can't indulge in more carnal matters. Weddings are boring but necessary endeavors, so you did your best to keep your smile up despite everything. But sex- not only could it be used as a replacement for affection, it was actually pleasurable. "Is it so wrong that I want to hold you?"]}
Timo takes some time to mull over your words before nodding. "I guess that makes sense. Gosh, I'm so nervous! I never did anything like this before!"
"I'll do my best to make your first time a good time, then."]
(else:)["Ohhh... so like we did on our date?" He says with a tinge of lust already in his voice. I'm glad we did that by the way, makes it a bit easier to understand this whole marriage thing."
"Exactly like that," you say with a similar longing in your voice.]
Buzzing with nervousness, Timo leads you back to his room. In the blur of the moment you didn't really get a chance to examine it, but you have ample time now that Timo has actually slowed his pace. The room filled to the brim with magical almanacs and countless reagents gets even fuller as you both step inside. A pleasant vanilla scent wafts from a stick of incense that, after closer inspection, never actually burns despite the lick of flame.
You look toward the rowan framed bed, clicking your tongue at the traveling garb laid out there. As helpful as your attendants were dressing you, they weren't exactly the best in other lands.
Moving your clothes to the dresser, the feel of cloth against your hands reminds you of exactly why you came there. Instead of apologizing to Timo like you intended to, you shrug and decide not to ruin the moment. Instead, you start removing your leathers' many straps, shrugging your top off only after great effort. You're about to reach for your pants when you hear a huge gasp.
Turning around you see Timo, once again hiding his face behind something, this time just his hands. However, you see one bright orange eye peeking through the gap in his fingers.
"Something catch your eye?" You tease.
(if:$timoSex is false)["I just didn't realize how hot you were!"](else:)["It's like you got even hotter since the last time we had sex!"] Timo's bluntness hits you like an ox. "Take more off!"
Once again Timo manages to surprise you, but given his eagerness you have no choice but to take off the lower half of your armor. You raise an expectant eyebrow at Timo, who returns it with abstract confusion for a good while. When the understanding hits him though he practically throws his hands down and gets to undressing.
Unlike your careful, measured movements, Timo practically throws his clothes off him. The only thing keeping the ridiculously priced garments from hitting the floor is you, catching them as they fall. When you deposit all of them in one large pile on the dresser, Timo has come to your side.
Very nearly naked, your eyes trail the freckles of his face, spreading down his shoulders and dotting his upper chest. They fade around his nipples, round and pink, just begging to be tugged on. He is incredibly soft, no muscle definition to be seen, but he remains just below the edge of slight chubbiness. The only thing keeping his modesty is a pair of short braies, practically the same situation as you're in.
You...
Get on the bed, face up.
(link: "Get on the bed, face down.")[(set:$playerBottom to $playerBottom+1)(set:$timoSex to true)(goto:"TimoTop")]
Tell Timo to get on the bed.Climbing onto the sheets, your face lands on the fluffy pillow laid at the very top. The scent of Timo, one that already permeates the room just underneath the vanilla incense, renews itself. His is the same as citrus; fresh and tangy, so strong you could practically taste it.
You don't have that much time to mull over that however, as your thoughts are soon interrupted by hands on your waist. They drag down your bare waist, surprisingly rough hands sending a chill down your spine as they palm at your butt. Looking back at Timo, you see the same kind of burning curiosity you saw on other mage's faces, but with a much lewder edge. His breath is hot and heavy as he starts squeezing, fingers sinking deep into your skin.
For a while that's all that he does, squeezes, pushes, pulls. He takes it very seriously to boot, varying the pressure, the time his fingers linger, and how he angles his hands. It's both hot and relaxing, admittedly, only the very hard squeezes coaxing soft moans out of you.
You yelp when he smacks your ass, though.
"I should've done this a whole lot sooner!" Timo huffs, giving your ass another meaty smack that has you squirming. "All that effort for just a bit of noise. What a waste!"
A sound of exasperation escapes your throat. "You were just trying to get me to moan?"
"Huh? Of course! What else would I be doing?"
"Getting a real spank from me."
"Maybe you could try it with another part of me?"
"Why don't I make //you// moan?"
(link:"Just let Timo do what he wants to.")[(set:$playerSub to $playerSub+1)(goto:"Timo Top-Player Sub")]Double-click this passage to edit it.Failing to find an argument, your mouth falls shut. Timo chuckles mischievously and pulls down your braies. No sooner do you feel the air on your cheeks than you feel a third smack, even harder than the last two. Having come to expect it, you choke back the grunt of pain. Something about the sting is turning you on however, your cock slowly hardening between your stomach and the sheets.
"Oho? Adding a variable to the mix?" Timo hums. "I do love a challenge, but sometimes all you need is a different approach."
Speaking like it's a magical theorem and not sex, you don't expect Timo to part your cheeks and runs a finger around your hole. At the slightest hint of a shiver Timo grins and shifts his full attention there. Unlike with your cheeks it's much harder to predict, his fingers always managing to find some way to surprise you. When he circles twice around your hole, coming around for a third, he pushes in. When he puts two fingers in, sawing gently back and forth, you get his fingers curling against your walls instead of a third. When you do finally get a third, he's spreading them and your hole with painstaking diligence as he goes forward, only to take them out carelessly as soon as he goes as far as he can.
The process is torturous but still so achingly pleasurable, the minute feelings inside of you transferring so much more than anything Timo could have done outside. You're given a brief reprieve as you hear cloth shuffling behind you, then footsteps against the floor. You're tempted to look back, but having given full control to Timo you simply lay there, rocking your dick against the sheets.
It isn't that long before he returns, and three now-wet fingers enter you once more, forcefully. He slathers your walls with broad, rough strokes. Completely by accident, he brushes along your most sensitive spot.
When you throw your head back and moan he pauses. "That didn't happen earlier. Mmm, would have loved to test that with my fingers first, but what's done is done."
This time when you hear shuffling you turn your head back, locking eyes with Timo's massive cock. You gulp at its size; you're pretty sure it's larger than yours. It's dripping with the You can't help but stare as best you can, nerves rising as that long and thick rod prods at your vulnerable hole.
"I read so much about this, I never figured I'd ever try it out... Now I have a husband to do everything with."
He pushes in at that moment, the insane stretch causing you to kick your legs lightly. With your walls so thoroughly lubed however there's no stopping him, no stopping that cock from spreading your walls much farther than the fingers did. He grinds against your prostate and you moan hard, the sound only rising in your throat when more cock slides past it, squeezing it flat.
When Timo's hips finally touch you, you feel incredibly full. Already difficult to move around with your hole wedged so wide, Timo further pins you down when he lays your body on top of yours. When his head rests below your shoulders you're reminded of just how short he is, how small and unassuming he is outside of the bedroom.
It's...
[[Just a normal feature of your husband.->Timo Top-Player Sub2]]
(link:"Exciting to think of the size difference.")[(set:$kinkSizedifference to true)(goto:"Timo Top-Player Sub2")]
(link:"Humiliating, but so hot.")[(set:$kinkHumiliation to true)(goto:"Timo Top-Player Sub2")]{(if:$kinkHumiliation and $kinkSizedifference is true)[Pleasure thrums throughout your whole body as your thoughts run wild. Timo was so much smaller that everyone assumed you'd be the dominant one. They gossiped when they thought you weren't listening, as crowds are wont to do, trading quips about how they pitied Timo in bed. They talked about how far your cock would reach inside him, when his is in the process of rearranging your guts. They talked about how you could lift him so easily as evidenced by your spinning, when he is pinning you down in more ways than one. They talked about how troubled he'd be when he needs to walk, when you're pretty sure your legs won't work for the next few days.]
(elseif:$kinkHumiliation is true)[Hot pleasure pools in your stomach as you think of the expectations people had of you. Being the taller and relatively more regal in the couple, people thought you'd temper Timo's impulsivity and rein him in a little. With your legs spread wide beneath him, so thoroughly stuffed that you can't even really move, the exact opposite happened. You barely married him and you were swept up in his subtle domination, giving him all that he needed to put you in your place.]
(elseif:$kinkSizedifference is true)[There is something special in the fact that you're much taller than your partner. Just thinking about the size disparity, especially because he's the one on top, causes your cock to throb and your hole to clamp down tighter on him. Maybe it was because finding such a tangible difference was so rare in this world; people like that were rare to begin with, let alone those who would be willing to stuff your ass like Timo did.]
(else:)[Timo being short wasn't some groundbreaking discovery, it was even noted in your Codex before you came. While it was certainly a surprise to see just how dominant Timo could be, at the end of the day he was your husband, and you took him as he came- short, but with a thick cock capable of rearranging your guts.]}
Interrupting your thoughts, Timo's hips begin moving once again. First side to side, even the small movements cause you to grunt and groan as your already compressed prostate is jostled. Timo is in no rush though, and just like earlier he revels in seeing what makes you tic. The slow rock of his hips finally lets you anticipate exactly what he's going to do, but in a way it's worse.
You feel every second of him rocking his hips away to the right, the gradually receding pressure pleasurable in and of itself. That's not too bad, it's when he starts rocking his hips back that your brain starts frying with pleasure. As he saws his way back to your center, he gives a thrust that has you //screaming// into the pillow.
A hand grabs your chin and raises it slowly, forcing your face off of the fluffy respite you found.
"You should know by now I'm not going to be satisfied if I don't hear it," Timo says as he thrusts again, earning another strangled moan out of you.
Instead of going from side to side, he switches to drawing his length out of you. The slow pace has you bracing for another drawn out section of Timo wringing pleasure out of you, but when only the head of his cock is left in you he slams right back in.
You nearly cum on the spot, your limbs flailing as you struggle to process the thick slab destroying your ass. When you feel him drawing out of you again, you plead, "H-Hang on."
Timo responds by driving his cock back in even harder, and from then on out it's a desperate struggle for you not to spray your seed all over the sheets. All pretense of experimentation or paying real attention is thrown out of the window as Timo just keeps hammering into you. His huge supply of energy is directed solely into fucking you, the sound of his hips smacking your butt louder than the bed squeaking underneath.
Eventually the onslaught gets to you. The heat pooling in your stomach spills down and out of you, painting the sheets and your abs with white. Just because you're done doesn't mean Timo is however, and the brutal thrusts to your oversensitive prostate is nearly enough to drive you insane.
By the time Timo finally unloads in you, you've cum again. Drool leaks from your mouth while cum leaks from the edge of your hole. Timo flops next to you, his haggard breaths only becoming apparent to you now. It seems that Timo finally reached the limits of his energy and exhausted himself as his chest heaves and his eyelashes flutter shut.
You...
(link:"Kiss him.")[(set:$playerChaste to $playerChaste+1)(set:$TimoEndK to true)(goto:"Timo Top Ending")]
(link:"Fall asleep.")[(set:$playerCold to $playerCold+1)(set:$TimoEndC to true)(goto:"Timo Top Ending")]
(link:"Turn around and clean his cock.")[(set:$playerSub to $playerSub+1)(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(set:$TimoEndL to true)(goto:"Timo Top Ending")]{(if:$TimoEndK is true)[Tired though you are, you manage to plant a kiss on Timo's cheek. One eye opens lazily and for a while he does nothing, just catches his breath slowly and surely. When at last he has his breath back fully he spends it all kissing you, planting his lips on yours for a long time. When you break it off you both share a sweet smile.]
(elseif:$TimoEndC is true)[After burning all of your energy in this way it's only natural that your eyes shut. An overwhelming sense of tiredness washes over you, blocking out even the sticky feeling of sweat and cum still on you. You drift off to sleep, unaware that Timo stays up a while longer, watching you with deep thoughts.]
(elseif:$TimoEndL is true)[Sliding down the bed and turning a little your face finds its way to Timo's crotch. Although half-flaccid it's still huge and dripping in several juices. They coat your tongue when you lean in and lick, each carrying a different salty tang. You dutifully drag your tongue up and down as Timo moans, making sure that only saliva is left. After polishing his cockhead clean, you duck down to his balls and do the same. Only then do you rest, laying your head on Timo's thighs.]}
It's almost hard to believe how quickly you fall into normalcy the next day, although some people take notice of your constant limp. You go about necessary business, (A.K.A. paperwork) with Timo at your side, signing the many documents that detail the joining of the Citadel and Wevendh. You finish later rather than sooner, especially because Timo got bored several times and leaped into your lap more each time.
(unless: $playerStyle is "Cold")[In those moments you can't help but indulge him, showering him with affection whenever he demands it. (if:$playerRole is "Sub")[Sometimes, when the two of you are alone, his gentle hugs turn into harsh tugs on your hair that make you whimper. Even outside of the bedroom he has not stopped thinking of ways to squeeze noises out of you.] The increased intimacy is sweet.] (else:)[Although you don't really care for displays of affection, you do so anyway to satisfy Timo. The faster you give into his whims, the faster you could get done with the paperwork. (if:$playerRole is "Sub")[You think that, but when he grabs your hair and kisses you, you melt. You... pretend that doesn't happen as often as it does.]]
When all the documents are settled, you know you must break the news to your husband.
"I'm returning to Wevendh, dear."
Timo hums and crosses his arms. "Gee... I knew this was coming, honestly. Klaus likes to think that I don't pay attention to anything, but I knew since the proposal that you wouldn't be here forever. You don't get to be a mage without noticing where the magic flows. Just- come back once in a while, okay? I'm really gonna miss you."
You hug him and [[prepare to leave.->FC Peace Ending]](if:$timoMarriage is true)[Despite giving a warm goodbye to Timo in the halls of the Magic Council, he insists on accompanying you to the very last second. He finds any excuse to cling to you and mention with a loud voice that you're his husband, as if the entirety of the Citadel hadn't been at the wedding. When you reach the teleportation spot, now cradled by your wedding pavillion, Timo pulls you into a long kiss before finally sending you on your way.]
(else:)[You bid Timo a fond farewell, thoughts abuzz with possibilities. With the most powerful magical nation with the exception of Bitterbrook allied and perhaps more importantly its once in a millennium talent befriended, you have secured one of the most powerful alliances possible.]\
You leave the Floating Citadel the same way you came, in a horse-drawn carriage. However, with a never-extinguishing lamp as a gift from Timo to guide your way, you need not rely on guides. When you emerge from the shadow, you look up at the nation you managed to find peaceful resolution with.
(link: "Back to Wevendh.")[(set:$endFloatingCitadel to true)(set:$allyFloatingCitadel to true)(set:$endCount to $endCount+1)(goto:"NationHub")]The smell of roses permeates the room so thoroughly that you are convinced that they must have found a way to bake it into the walls. You wouldn't be surprised if they actually managed to find a way to do so, given the light pink hue of the walls.
Several chairs are arranged around a large table, the middle of which is emblazoned with a large rose. The room has hardly changed since you last came, your memories keeping true with the three doors, one on each wall. The right leads to a private sitting room where you and your brother waited. The left leads to the actual day-to-day living space, outfitted with a kitchen from where you were served tea. The middle you haven't actually gone through, but you were told it was your host's bedroom.
The first thing you catch a glimpse of when the door swings open is a face devoid of imperfection, the dark mark nestled next to full lips exemplifying its name- beauty. Even without forewarning, he arrives in his full princely regalia, not a single strawberry blond hair out of place. The steady, even thuds of his footfalls come from his black high boots, which are meticulously laced. White rose patterns on his filigreed trousers lead seamlessly into those of his shirt, framed neatly by the short red jacket he has on. Although the sleeves of his jacket cover his entire arm, they reveal his soft, almost dainty hands hanging at his sides. His way of walking is so even that, even as he moves his shoulders, the tassels of his epaulet move in much the same way no matter which side you're looking at.
Camille Amoroux has graced you with his presence. If it is at all possible, you might even say that he's grown even more bewitching since the last time you saw him.
"It is very rude to arrive unannounced without amicable relations," He says, although he places his hand in front of his mouth in a thinking gesture. It's extremely subtle, but you think you can spot the slight movements of his eyes. What that means you're not entirely sure, but your gut tells you that he's weighing his next words very seriously.
He shrugs and gives a smile. "But I and your brother had quite a pleasant relationship, so I'm not going to deny the audience of such an intimate blood relation. Come, let us sit and discuss."
{(if: $playerAgenda is "Diplo")[<br><br>Those less diplomatically inclined would likely miss the fact that, despite his claims of intimacy, he hasn't stopped talking formally. He isn't truly comfortable with you, just putting up the false sense that he is.<br><br>]}
Instead of taking a seat at the large table provided already, he goes out of his way to open the door on the right and lead you in. Unlike the larger meeting room this one has changed quite a lot, various piles of expensive wares barely kept orderly despite the sheer variation. When you spot a bouquet of purple flowers you conclude that this is where the lavish gift trains the Miraim sends ends up.
Camille totally ignores them, much like how he ignores the Miraim himself, and sits down. When you sit across from him, he smiles. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"
"Do you know where my brother is?"
"I've come to discuss an alliance."
"I'd like your hand in marriage."
(link:"Attack him.")[(set:$playerAggro to $playerAggro +1)(set:$playerFight to $playerFight + 1)(goto:"CamilleFight")]Until just recently, Frateo was bordered by only three nations: Krozulan, Aesis, and of course, Wevendh. Given the political dilemma that is Krozulan in its entirety and their Southern Tribes having claimed land that was previously Aesis', only Wevendh stands as the remaining friendly border nation.
That gives you an inherently unique position: You are practically the only leader who can make a direct visit without alerting other nations. The only exception is the Praecantator of the Floating Citadel who can teleport as he pleases, but (if:$endFloatingCitadel is false)[he is likely too busy with the depths of arcane affairs to drop in.] (elseif:$timoMarriage is true)[your husband has taken to writing you about absolutely everything before he does them. You of course shoot down the more outlandish ideas, but Timo gives you a steady stream of information regardless. He hasn't mentioned Frateo at all.] (elseif:$timoSlave is true)[your bondage slave is still hanging from the ceiling of your room, probably thinking about you. It's a good thing he has healing magic, because you're not letting him down anytime soon. Maybe you'll 'reward' him when you return.] (else:)[your envoys at the Citadel inform you that Timo is the same as ever, lazing around and abandoning classes. While his boredom sometimes drives him to visit others, he's not reached that point just yet.]
Without the interference of other leaders, you can (if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[establish ties and float ideas that give Wevendh real political power, the influence needed to control other nations' actions, all without blood spilled.] (elseif:$playerAgenda is "Aggro")[swiftly defeat the Prince Regent, give word to your waiting armies and take the home of diplomacy for yourself. You'll deal with the political fallout later.] (elseif:$playerAgenda is "Brother")[ask for any traces of your brother. Surely the nation of diplomacy would never harm your brother, and their numerous connections must have seen something or another.] (elseif:$playerAgenda is "Seduce")[ask for the hand of the Prince Regent, as many others have done before. Your competition is fierce and among them is the Miraim of Seridazar, but are willing to enter the fray.]
The carriage ride is one of the easiest of the routes leaving Wevendh, just one long slope going down. As soon as you move past one of the mountain forts the steepness decreases sharply. Where it felt like you'd fall directly onto the coachman if you don't pay attention to your center of gravity, now you can comfortably lean just about anywhere as you enter the lowlands of Frateo.
Although they aren't present on most maps, you pass by many artificial rivers, some of which are still being dug. A lone architect oversees several workers as they clear mass swathes of dirt. Their pace is respectable, evident in the amount of sweat that drips down from their bodies even though the sun is hidden by fluffy white clouds.
You...
Stop and talk to the architect.
Stop and talk to the workers.
[[Continue on your way.->FrateoShortPath]]Disembarking from your carriage, your coachman busies himself with taking the horses to their stable. You're much more interested in the building the stables are attached to, a Wevendh-style home with some Frateo architectural flairs.
Most houses in Wevendh are low-roofed and compartmentalized, little building blocks of houses mixed and matched to create. The same concept is recreated here. Without a mountain in the way, the builders were free to take the same idea and build it larger, creating a mansion simply by making the architectural blocks they were using bigger.
As you sweep your eyes toward the roof however, you see that the various sections vary. While some of them slope like the buildings you are used to, some launch high into spires or lie flat, giving ample place for grotesques to perch. While the draconic influence is obvious, the fact that they have arms is already a deviation, let alone the fact that their arms are like those of a lion's. Additionally, unlike the grey that just about all Wevendh houses come in, this mansion is painted in a surprisingly pristine white.
Perhaps the only reason you care so much about it is the fact that it's not only your summer home, but something your brother completely renovated before his disappearance.
The guards bow as you enter the home, shrugging off the outer layers of your traveling garb as you do so. Nothing to report, of course. Your spymaster grilled them so hard that you have a ledger of just about everything they've done throughout life. It's a wonder that they haven't quit, but your people are hardy. Probably understanding given the circumstances of your brother.
You spend some time wandering the house, memories of you and your brother walking the same path you now take alone. Along the way your more practical mind tells you that this would be a perfect place to host guests, even for the likes of the Prince Regent. However, it also reminds you that this is the best place to find some of the last traces of your brother.
That in mind, you...
Look around the mansion for any clues.
Scout out the city in secret.
Visit the minor princes.
[[Go straight to the Prince Regent.->FrateoCastleVisit]]As tempting as it is to step down and talk to people who would tell you the whole truth and not convenient, technically true statements like is common in Frateo, you're far too busy.
After all, you're not going straight to Leivesses like any normal traveler. You watch as your coachman leisurely trawls along the main road for a long time, only to make a hard right as he drives your horses onto a path that's more grass than dirt.
This way you see even more of Frateo's countryside, rolling patches of land with little foliage. Trees, wherever they grow, are usually tall but lonesome, accompanied only by numerous rose bushes. The roses here mostly grow red or white, the special colors- golden especially- reserved for the capital and the gardens of the Prince Regent. Although quite beautiful for their numerous petals, the Frateo species of rose are known for their equally numerous thorns.
Riding past a particularly large patch of rose bushes, you find yourself at [[your destination.->FrateoEnterHouse]]As tempting as it is to look around the home where you spent many summers, the fact of the matter is that the present is upon you. Even if you intend to look for your brother, it may be more fruitful to speak to those who may have actually seen him rather than tracing the dusty books on your shelves.
Just as quickly as you took your traveling outerwear off you put it back on. The coachman sees this when you step aside and though he sighs heavily, he dutifully prepares the carriage again.
While waiting you take the time to think of the Prince Regent, one of the few leaders you have met directly beforehand. Your brother, ever so fond of Frateo, took you along for the meeting. (if:$playerAgenda is "Brother")[Given how close you were to your brother, you remember how you jokingly told him not to fall in love with this mysterious dignitary. When you both finally laid eyes on the man in question, you could tell that your brother developed a crush by the stutter in his speech and the fidgeting of his hands.] (else:)[Just about all nations were prone to exaggeration, some more than others, in order to portray their leader in a good light, protect the dignity of their country. However, you were struck by the truth in the description. Like a perfect doll the Prince Regent greeted you, even his smile beautiful as he laughed.]
The thought of Camille lingers in your head perhaps a little too long as you climb into your carriage. You give the coachman the order to hurry.
A direct order such as that spurs the coachman to drive the horses at great speed. Little time passes before the green lowlands gives way to sprawling city. You're forced to slow down as the roads start being shared by pedestrians, but it's still too fast a pace for you to remember all of the eccentric buildings you pass by. Perhaps another time you can explore the city properly.
As it happens however, you're deposited in front of the home of the Prince Regent. You give the coachman a generous allowance for his troubles as you look up at the jewel of Frateo architecture.
The castle of Frateo, Chisotins, does not fail to be a centerpiece even by the glory surrounding it. Its construction, the design of its three rings, is renowned worldwide. The first and outermost is made up of eight towers, only three stories tall and of considerable width. Just past those are a circle of towers that many confuse with supports; in reality they are just spindly towers, some of which contain long winding stairs used since antiquity, some with a new invention called an 'elevator' installed in them. They form the only real entrances to Chisotins, connecting bridges leading to doors of the last ring. That is the actual castle portion, an imposing tower whose width is only dwarfed by its massive height.
This, naturally, makes it extremely difficult for most people to even approach. The stern looking guards ready their weapons merely at the sight of you, ready to bar the entrance of any prince looking to change the status quo. With the insignia of Wevendh so boldly placed on your clothes however, they apologize for their forthrightness when you pass them by.
[[You enter the first ring.->FrateoFirstRingEnter]]Masked faces turn to you instantly.
Men and women dressed in the height of finery occupy just about every corner of the tower except for the center. That place is dominated by a piano, with couples dancing in a ring around it, in time to the snappy beat played by a man of dextrous hands. Waltz, you think it is called. It apparently originated in Astope and spread like wildfire among the nobility of certain countries.
Seeing a space dedicated only to the waltz, you're sure that if it's the craze in Frateo, it's the craze elsewhere too.
Drawing your eyes away from the dancers you look back at the people lining the walls. It's easy to assume they are simply relaxing as they laze about on large couches, but once you look at them closely you realize that they barely stop talking.
Their voices are whisper quiet but their mouths move near constantly, pausing only when someone else is voicing their opinion. Even if it weren't the bread and butter of Frateo, the way they occasionally glance back at you and titter gives you more than enough evidence of their gossip.
Listening in further, not only do you catch a few words that were said a touch too loudly about you, but about the dancers and even other groups along the wall. The cliques start forming in your mind easily after that, each little cluster of people only interested in tearing apart everyone else around.
The feeling that standing around would only cause the opinion of you to worsen steadily grows, so you...
Find a mask and join a table.
Find a mask and join the waltz.
[[Head straight for the second ring.->FrateoSecondRingEnterRush]]Although the court is likely the best place to gather information, it is in turn all too willing to squeeze every bit of information out of you. As Wevendh royalty, your secrets are far more precious than those that are regularly spread, even if it is the court of the Prince Regent.
Unwilling to take the risk, you refuse to play the spoken games of the court and simply walk right past them. You know that rumors will follow in your wake, but with little evidence or care or you know that they'll fade quickly. With you absent, their scathing observations would return to each other and the dancers. Maybe even the piano player.
Regardless, after traversing much emptier halls, you find yourself reaching a set of sleek metal doors. As if reacting to your presence, some sort of light affixed to its top turns green. The doors slide open automatically, allowing you to step inside.
The doors slide shut behind you, and you calm your rising nerves. (if: $endFloatingCitadel is true)[It is not so different from the teleportation that brought you to the city of magic, and the upside that's already becoming apparent is that light isn't burning itself into your eyelids.] (else:)[Surely if the Prince Regent and his esteemed guests trusted this kind of technology, it was safe enough for you to climb onto. Besides, although you never had the privilege of seeing a wyvern, let alone riding one, you are the Captain of the Wyvern Knights. You refuse to balk at an elevator.]
The entire room around you shifts and gradually starts to ascend. You feel a little silly when nothing spectacular happens, but even the gossips far below you now must have felt the same way when they encountered it. Technology has come so far it's only logical to treat it with the same awe as magic.
There's a surprising //beep// that precedes a large //thunk//, the sound of the elevator coming to that sudden stop. The doors slide open automatically and you step out.
Most people would take a second after seeing how precariously high they are, but it's nothing compared to the heights of the mountains. The sight of Frateo from up high is beautiful of course, but then you look across and see your homeland rising higher still and a pang of homesickness goes through you. You'll return shortly.
Turning your gaze to the bridge in front of you, the solid construction banishes any fear you could have had. Unless it's used by the traders, the bridges in Wevendh are rickety things made of rope and wood. You walk across the bridge without even hanging on to the railings, glad to feel solid stone beneath your feet and not wood swaying precariously in the wind.
This time when you approach the guard at the opposite end, he does not immediately lower his sword. He instead commands in a gruff tone, "State your name and business."
You expect this because, despite facing both of the royal siblings of Wevendh at the time, a different guard asked the same questions. Your brother was slightly miffed that he had to repeat it after being swarmed by the court below, but he didn't dare go against the protocol.
You don't, either.
"Serpent of the Peak, High Lord of the Mountains and Grand Captain of the Wyvern Knights, I am King $fName $lName. I seek audience with the Prince Regent, posthaste."
The guard eyes you warily before turning, relaying the message to someone inside. It takes quite some time for a message to come back, at which point the guard finally stands aside, allowing you [[entrance to the Prince Regent's private sanctum.->CamilleMeet]]Slipping a dagger you concealed free from your boot, you ramble on about things with little consequence. Slowly raising your arm as you laugh, you wait for the perfect moment to strike. Camille opens his mouth to speak- you lash out.
The sound of steel hitting steel rings in your ears. You still have a firm grip on your dagger, but your hand flies almost wildly away, recoiling from Camille's firm rapier strike.
In those split seconds you can see everything, the thin blade leading to a hilt of gold shaped like a rose, one expertly stretched left arm threatening to thrust forward and stab you, and especially the angry pink eyes focused entirely on your being.
The two of you stand at the same time. Camille takes the offense with speedy thrusts and slashes that you barely duck and weave past. Throwing the dagger at him, he stands confidently and deflects it right out of the air, the pointed edge embedding deep into brick instead of flesh.
That's exactly what you needed however, as you run to the pile of gifts and grab a sword you spotted earlier. The sword is hefty in your hands, the weight a great relief. It isn't ceremonial, which means you actually stand a chance.
"I'm disappointed in you. You took after your brother in so many ways except for his brain and common sense," Camille spits bitterly. "I will punish you in his stead. Prepare yourself."
(link:"You ready your sword.")[(set:$fightState to true)(set:$playerHealth to 3)(set:$camilleHealth to 3)(set:$camillePhase to 1)(goto: (either: "CamilleHighFeint", "CamilleLowFeint", "CamilleMidThrust", "CamilleLowThrust", "CamilleHighThrust","CamilleHighFlurry"))]You are facing the Prince Regent of Frateo, Camille Amoroux.
{(if:$camilleHealth is 3)[Dressed in the regalia of Frateo, Camille's once delicate figure is replaced entirely with a stern seriousness. There is no trace of friendliness from him anymore, only anger and silent determination. Make no mistake: Camille has every intention to bring you down.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 2)[The once perfect figure before you has been sullied, your sword having bitten into his flesh. It's strange seeing Camille having any sort of flaw, much less a crimson gash under an ugly tear in his clothing. His speed hasn't decreased in the least, however.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 1)[With two successful hits on Camille, you would have assumed that some sign of exhaustion would be present on his features. However, the Prince Regent holds his rapier and himself like he just began the fight.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 0)[(goto:"CamilleEnterPhase2")]}
{(if: $playerHealth is 3)[Unharmed thus far you regard Camille with careful eyes. You are careful not to overestimate yourself or underestimate Camille; even the smallest cut on you could break your concentration.]
(elseif: $playerHealth is 2)[Punished for an incorrect read, you feel the sting of a fresh wound and blood trickling down your body. You cannot afford to pause and assess it however. The next attack is coming, and fast.]
(elseif: $playerHealth is 1)[Bleeding heavily and unsteady on your feet, the looming threat of defeat hangs over your head. You know that you can't take another hit, but you drive forward regardless. There is no room for failure, not now.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 0)[(goto:"CamilleBadEnd1")]}
(link:"Continue.")[(goto: (either: "CamilleHighFeint", "CamilleLowFeint", "CamilleMidThrust", "CamilleLowThrust", "CamilleHighThrust","CamilleHighFlurry"))]You are facing the Golden Rose of Frateo, Camille Amoroux.
An endless stream of petals flows both from his sword and his hand. An invisible wind flows through the room, not only scattering the petals everywhere but raising a spiral around your opponent. His yellow hair seems to shine gold whenever you see it through the swirl. The thick scent of rose covers the room, even above the scent of blood.
{(if:$camilleHealth is 5)[Anger coalesces into an entirely new side of Camille, one where abject hostility takes precedence over beauty. Petals lay over his wounds, blood dyeing the white ones red. No pain is visible in his face however, only sheer distaste for you and your actions.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 4)[Even with a fresh wound inflicted on him Camille refuses to show anything but anger. This doesn't appear to be a front either, as his ridiculous speed hasn't been affected in the slightest. In fact, as he regards you bitterly, it seems he has become even faster.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 3)[Finally wincing, Camille stiff features are occasionally betrayed by those little twitches of pain. Even his body is starting to show the signs, a little shake here, a little slowing down there as he bounces on his heels. He is still far from down however.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 2)[Grievous wounds littering his body, Camille cannot bounce on his heels or even stand completely straight like he once did. Now filled with more pain than anger, Camille's teeth dig into his lips in some effort to hide his sounds. Even here, teetering on the edge of defeat, he tries to retain his dignity.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 1)[Camille can't help but grunt in pain, one eye screwed shut and the other filling with tears. His breathing is labored, his stance has become improper, and even the once endless stream of petals seems to be dying down. Despite this he stubbornly holds onto his rapier, refusing to let his sword arm become shaky. This is his last stand, but he still intends to win.]
(elseif:$camilleHealth is 0)[(goto:"CamilleFinisher")]}
{(if: $playerHealth is 4)[Having survived Camille's first onslaught without being hit once, you feel renewed in both your purpose and vigor. The rush of adrenaline allows you to ignore your body's limitations should you need it, but some part of you drives you forward to continue flawlessly.]
(if: $playerHealth is 3)[The wear of battle weighs on you, but even though the battle is far from over you still have the energy to see it through. The trickle of blood fails to distract you as you bounce on your heels, ready for the next attack.]
(elseif: $playerHealth is 2)[Your lungs push out struggling, haggard breaths. Sweat beads across your body. Not even the adrenaline can cover the pain of the damage you've taken. Still, this is the reality of any warrior. You must push through the pain, toward that promise of sweet victory.]
(elseif: $playerHealth is 1)[Battered and bleeding, most of your strength goes toward just standing. Just one more hit would be enough to take you down, but you stubbornly hold on. You are not down just yet- all you need to do is take Camille down //first.//]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 0)[(goto:"CamilleBadEnd2")]}
(link:"Continue.")[(goto: (either: "CamilleHighFeint", "CamilleLowFeint", "CamilleMidThrust", "CamilleLowThrust", "CamilleHighThrust", "CamilleHighFlurry", "CamilleMidFlurry", "CamilleHighKick", "CamilleLowKick", "CamilleJumpSpin", "CamilleGrab", "CamilleLowStab"))](set:$fightState to false)With the rapier out of his hands you tackle Camille, bringing him down to the floor with a loud thud. At first there is a great struggle as his hands reach backward, nails clawing at anything he has purchase on. When you bring your sword down right next to your face however, he finally stills. He begrudgingly allows you to put his arms behind his back. Putting your entire bodyweight down on top of them, you have successfully captured the Prince Regent.
"I will not stand for this," Camille seethes. "Your victory is shortlived, I assure you. You are surrounded on all sides by my loyal guards. What do you intend to do when the entire army of Frateo will be waiting at the second and third rings?"
(link:"Take your prize here and now.")[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd + 1)(set:$camilleSex to true)(set:$playerAggro to $playerAggro + 1)(goto:"CamilleBottomForced")]
Tie him up.
Tell him that you're only interested in ruling Frateo."Pathetic," Camille says, swinging his sword down. You can see he hasn't broken a sweat fighting you, while you're on the floor with your sword knocked far away from you. "Really, I expected a king attempting to be an assassin to have //some// skill."
"So what now?" You snap back, wincing at the ache in your wounds. "Kill me now and save me the disgrace."
"Oh, you should know full well that Frateo does not approve of violence. At least, not through direct means. Of course I am not so foolish as to set you free gladly, with nothing to gain from this altercation. What I need from you is a little bit of... discouragement. I have a wonderful new device around here somewhere."
Camille turns his back and you briefly consider running toward your sword, but you can tell from his side glance that he'd punish you even more if you dared try. You doubt your burning muscles would allow you to get that much speed anyway. You begrudgingly sit where you are as Camille digs, eventually producing a large box on what appears to be four legs.
He sets it up in front of you, and you realize that the box has some kind of circular protrusion, capped off with glass. To its side there is a crank that Camille rests his hand upon. He commands you with a tone brokering no argument: "Strip."
Blushing out of humiliation, you do exactly as he asks. You keep peeling back layer after layer, but Camille never tells you to stop. Your hands hook around your braies, the only underclothing keeping your dignity. Camille gestures for you to get on with it, and you yank it down, letting your cock flop freely.
You hear the crank moving and look up just in time to see a flash. Bewildered by the purpose of the device, you just have to ask. "What are you doing?"
"This is among the latest of the latest inventions in Chromore. A camera, they call it. It lets you capture sights without needing paint, or indeed a painter." Before you can say that no such thing exists, he holds aloft the end result. Although the square is quite small, you do recognize your own naked body, and in strikingly accurate detail. You can't help but cry out in embarrassment.
"We're not done," Camille says as if chastising someone for merely failing to sit still and not threatening you with blackmail. "I am not above posing you myself if you cannot do as I ask. Now that you know what this does, I'm adding to your punishment. Touch yourself. You know what part I'm talking about. Pinch your nipple too."
You have half a mind to protest, but with Camille holding your naked picture //and// his rapier you have no choice. You do as he asks, shutting your eyes tight and trying to forget about this situation. Fantasies run through your mind, but no matter how much you try and catch them, they all eventually warp into Camille and his amused eyes, sneering at you.
Hearing the crank, you don't open your eyes in time for the flash but have plenty time to realize that you're hard despite everything. One hand strokes your fully hard cock while the other pinches your nipple. Shame runs through you.
Camille isn't done however, and he runs through just about everything he can think of. On your knees, bowing in apology. On your knees and arms, showing off your naked butt. On your knees, now holding your cheeks apart to expose your hole. After what feels like ages of poses, Camille finally tells you to cum. The flash happens just as your white spunk reaches its highest arc in the air.
When at last you leave Frateo, you leave behind enough embarrassing pictures to ruin any respect your people had for you, and your will to attempt anything else.
[[Retry.->CamilleFight]]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]{(set:$attackLast to "HighThrust")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
{(if:$camillePhase is 1)[Raising his right hand, Camille turns his body to the side but keeps his head turned to you, eyes trained on your face. His two legs move almost in the same motion as he takes one smooth step forward.]
(else:)[Raising his right hand, red petals fall from his palm. Camille turns his body to the side but keeps his head turned to you, eyes trained on your face. Even more petals scatter from his sword as he moves forward in one smooth step, his two legs moving in perfect unison.]}
(link:"Attack.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "MidThrust")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
{(if:$camillePhase is 1)[Setting his right foot in front of him, Camille draws his sword arm's elbow back and leans forward. His other arm is held low over his stomach, hand squeezed tight into a fist. He launches himself forward at great speed, and by the time you blink he's closed the distance. His attack is far too fast for you to counterattack and with strength too great to parry.]
(else:)[Setting his right foot in front of him, Camille draws his sword arm's elbow back and leans forward. His other arm is held over his stomach, hand squeezed tight into a fist, from which spills a steady stream of red petals. He launches himself forward at great speed, the petals seemingly clearing specifically for him to do so, and by the time you blink he's closed the distance. His attack is far too fast for you to counterattack and with strength too great to parry.]}
(link:"Evade left.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade right.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block high.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block low.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "LowThrust")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
{(if:$camillePhase is 1)[Setting his right foot in front of him, Camille draws his sword arm's elbow back and leans forward. His other arm is held over his chest, hand squeezed tight into a fist. He launches himself forward at great speed, and by the time you blink he's closed the distance. His attack is far too fast for you to counterattack and with strength too great to parry.]
(else:)[Setting his right foot in front of him, Camille draws his sword arm's elbow back and leans forward. His other arm is held over his chest, hand squeezed tight into a fist, from which spills a steady stream of red petals. He launches himself forward at great speed, the petals seemingly clearing specifically for him to do so, and by the time you blink he's closed the distance. His attack is far too fast for you to counterattack and with strength too great to parry.]}
(link:"Evade left.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade right.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block high.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block low.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "LowFeint")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
{(if:$camillePhase is 1)[Camille faces you head-on, bringing his sword arm over his chest. The blade of his rapier rests over his left shoulder, nearly vertical as it points up at the ceiling. He beckons to you with his free hand. You know he's goading you into attacking, but his refusal to move forward forces you into actions other than blocking.]
(else:)[Facing you directly, Camille brings his sword arm over his chest even as red petals fall and gather between them. His blade rests comfortably over his left shoulder, pointed more toward the wall than the ceiling. He just stands there, but that in of itself is a challenge; if you don't do anything, the more petals will form. You have to engage him.]}
(link:"Attack high.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Attack low.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "HighFeint")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
{(if:$camillePhase is 1)[Camille faces you head-on, bringing his sword arm over his chest. The blade of his rapier rests over his right shoulder, nearly vertical as it points up at the ceiling. He beckons to you with his free hand. You know he's goading you into attacking, but his refusal to move forward forces you into actions other than blocking.]
(else:)[Facing you directly, Camille brings his sword arm over his chest even as red petals fall and gather between them. His blade rests comfortably over his right shoulder, pointed more toward the wall than the ceiling. He just stands there, but that in of itself is a challenge; if you don't do anything, the more petals will form. You have to engage him.]}
(link:"Attack high.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Attack low.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "HighFlurry")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
{(if:$camillePhase is 1)[Raising his right hand, Camille turns his body to the side but keeps his head turned to you, eyes trained on your weapon. His two legs move almost in the same motion as he takes one smooth step forward.]
(else:)[Raising his right hand, red petals fall from his palm. Camille turns his body to the side but keeps his head turned to you, eyes trained on your weapon. Even more petals scatter from his sword as he moves forward in one smooth step, his two legs moving in perfect unison.]}
(link:"Attack.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "MidFlurry")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
The stream of rose petals picks up, spitting out even more than is normal. In the small gaps between the petals you notice that Camille's hand is spewing red petals. The spread is so thick that you are temporarily blinded, but you rip the petals away from your face just in time to see Camille right in front of you. Legs in the air and back turned, you realize he jumped and is in the middle of a spin. Your sword too heavy to react in time, you are forced to evade.
(link:"Jump.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Duck.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Sidestep left.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Sidestep right.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "HighKick")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
Rather than thickening, the swirl of petals seems to slow down as Camille's hand starts spewing petals of white. The petals further clear as he dashes forward, getting into your guard before you can react. However, instead of attacking straight away, the hand of his sword arm comes to rest in front and just below your face.
(link:"Attack high.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Attack low.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Jump.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Duck.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "Grab")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
In a surprising display, Camille boldly switches his rapier from his left to his right hand. Around the grip his hand continues to spew petals, white ones spilling against the pommel and floating to the floor. He dashes forward at great speed.
(link:"Attack.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "JumpSpin")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
The stream of rose petals picks up, spitting out even more than is normal. In the small gaps between the petals you notice that Camille's hand is spewing white petals. The spread is so thick that you are temporarily blinded, but you rip the petals away from your face just in time to see Camille right in front of you. Low to the ground and back turned, you realize he crouched and is in the middle of a spin. Your sword too heavy to react in time, you are forced to evade.
(link:"Jump.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Duck.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Sidestep left.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Sidestep right.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{(set:$attackLast to "LowKick")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
Rather than thickening, the swirl of petals seems to slow down as Camille's hand starts spewing petals of white. The petals further clear as he dashes forward, getting into your guard before you can react. However, instead of attacking straight away, the hand of his sword arm comes to rest in front and just below your hip.
(link:"Attack.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]"Enough!"
Red and white rose petals practically explode from Camille's sword, forcing you backward lest you become blind and vulnerable. Despite the damage you've inflicted to him, his clothes and hair disheveled, he stands in complete and elegant defiance. There is a different kind of beauty to be found in those steely eyes and hard-set lips, even beyond that of jagged ice. It is like frost melting.
"There is no beauty in violence. There is none, yet it must be wielded." He swings his sword down, the petals fluttering from it turning to a vivid gold. "So be it. In the name of peace, I will strike you down."
He starts a clockwise spin, but his blazingly fast motions are nowhere to be found. His movements are slow and graceful, like that of a ballerina, contrasting harshly with the various bleeding wounds peeking through slashes in his clothing.
His movement shows off a glaring weakness however. Excusable only due to his insane speed earlier, his spins risked a firm stab to the back. Now that he's slowed down, it's a prime opportunity.
''You get the feeling that whatever happens here will decide the fight once and for all.''
{|camChoice1>[(link:"Finish him off.")[(hide: ?camChoice2 + ?camChoice3)[You lunge forward, slicing straight through the rose he throws at you. Your heart pounds heavy in your chest and your ears, the tip of your sword about to pierce Camille's back when- //CLANG!// It hits Camille's rapier. He spun around fast enough to deflect your blow. He slides down onto his knees, slipping right past your shaky guard. His sword goes straight into your stomach. [[You have lost.->CamilleFinisherFail]]]]]}
{|camChoice2>[(link:"Prepare to dodge.")[(hide: ?camChoice1 + ?camChoice3)[Not trusting the supposed opening, you ready your body to dodge whatever devastating maneuver he has in mind. Sweat trickles down your back as you watch him, waiting for the moment his muscles twitch- //There!// You dodge. A rose sails past your face. Your eyes can't help but track the projectile even as you hear Camille sliding to the floor. You don't have enough time to react before his rapier enters your stomach. [[You have lost.->CamilleFinisherFail]]]]]}
{|camChoice3>[(link:"Prepare to block.")[(hide: ?camChoice1 + ?camChoice2)[Camille is far too devious to leave such an obvious weakness open. You steady yourself into a firm stance, watching Camille's movements closely. He throws something at you- a rose, which you easily deflect. With your stance steady you are fast enough to see past it, to spot Camille sliding down onto his knees with rapier pointed forward. You swing fiercely and knock it right out of his hand. [[You have won.->CamilleDefeat]]]]]}"A valiant effort, I must admit." Camille swings his sword down, seething rage now rolling off him in waves. Even twisted by anger as it is, his face is beautiful. It is a distinctively cruel beauty however, like that of glittering and jagged ice. "However, I cannot commend it if it means to overtake me."
You allow him to speak, not only out of respect for your opponent, but to rest your burning muscles and ease your aching lungs. The fight has taken the wind out of you, and although Camille looks worse for the wear, some burning determination must be driving him on.
"One does not become Prince Regent without blood being spilled, but there is an art to it. An elegance that can only achieved by pulling the strings from the shadows, far away from the splatter and far away from the blame. Clearly, you have no idea what games are being played even as we duel."
Camille drags the tip of his rapier against the floor, but instead of erupting into sparks it lets off... rose petals. White and red, they scatter from the sword in a gentle stream. Camille raises it, gathering a small pile of petals in his right hand.
"You are not the first brute to have entered here. They think that diplomacy can be overturned by brutality. Maybe so. But I am not weak. I am not a flower simply to be plucked and vased, set up for other people's enjoyment. I am the Prince Regent of Frateo, the one who secured the throne!"
He spins, dragging his rapier in a circle across the ground. The entire blade erupts into petals which quickly fall off and float into the air. However, these do not simply fall to the ground like the others before them. Carried by some untouchable wind they swirl around Camille. He raises his hand, from which spills its own stream of petals.
(link:'"Witness the eternal and unforgiving bloom, the will of Frateo!"')[(set:$camillePhase to 2)(set:$camilleHealth to 5)(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth + 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]With an almost casual, dismissive movement Camille pulls his sword out of you. A torrent of red exits your stomach, but no blood is spilled. Thousands of red petals flow from your body, and even when you clutch your hand over the open wound you realize you can't feel any pain.
"You won't die," Camille says, a gentle sigh escaping him. "This is the fabled sword of King Hugo, the Peacemaker. He was one of the greatest rulers Frateo had simply because he knew that sometimes, peace could not be won without force. But what elevated him to a true leader was his insistence of preserving life."
He's too wounded to bounce on his heels, but he once more takes a stance.
Despite the imminent danger, your will to retaliate keeps sapping. While some of it can be attributed to the damage you took throughout the fight, there is something unnatural about how slack your limbs become, how even your mind starts becoming foggy.
Right hand raised, body turned to the side, he thrusts with blindingly fast speed all over your body. Wherever the rapier's tip enters, a similar stream of red petals starts flowing. You collapse to your knees, watching as the floor slowly fills up underneath you.
"He grew close with the Astreator Lopiter, and together they created a sword that could not kill. A sword that numbs the will to fight, to destroy, to wreak havoc- as brutes like you are wont to do. At first I was going to make an example of you, but it is clear that you are too great a threat to risk letting you go. I'll make it so that you're well within my sight //and// my reach. Slave is a brutish term, so I'm going to make you my concubine."
He runs his flowering hand over his blade, and suddenly all the petals in the room turn gold. The once endless stream finally stops, leaving only glittering yellow left. His expression turns soft once more as he gestures to you. Every single petal in the room flies to you and sticks to your body. The last thing you see before you're forced to shut your eyes is Camille shutting his eyes, a small smile gracing his features.
[[Continue.->CamilleBadEnd3]]{(set:$attackLast to "LowStab")(set:$attackChoice to 0)}
In a surprising display, Camille boldly switches his rapier from his left to his right hand. Around the grip his hand continues to spew petals, red ones spilling against the pommel and floating to the floor. He dashes forward at great speed.
(link:"Attack.")[(set:$attackChoice to 1)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Evade.")[(set:$attackChoice to 2)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Block.")[(set:$attackChoice to 3)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Parry.")[(set:$attackChoice to 4)(goto:"CamilleAttackCalculator")]{
(if:$attackLast is "HighThrust")
[
(if:$camillePhase is 1)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Your attempt to attack is brutally suppressed when you see the tip of Camille's sword heading straight for your shoulder. Unable to drop your weapon in time, the tip pierces right through your clothes to the flesh underneath. He presses the advantage and goes in for three more thrusts, each of which you manage to deflect and the last of which you use to (link:"push him back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Anticipating his attack, you prepare a step well before the sword actually gets to a dangerous distance. You easily sidestep Camille's deep strike, and even someone as quick as him cannot recover in time from such an overextension. You swing strongly, cutting into Camille's back. He gasps in pain but rolls nonetheless, (link:"returning to a safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Setting your stance firmly, you focus less on the weapon itself and more Camille, paying attention to the way he moves. His thrust is strong so you block strongly. While you succeed in blocking the first thrust, Camille is lightning quick. Thrusting three more times, the thin tip of his rapier bypasses your clumsy sword entirely, piercing your shoulder. You're forced to try a desperate swing which succeeds in (link:"driving Camille back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[You keep your sword tightly gripped but your stance loose. An attack comes fast but you are ready, throwing your sword up at the last possible second. You knock the tip of Camille's rapier aside, but his grip is too tight to be shaken. With extreme speed he thrusts three more times, your guard having been focused on the one parry. You try to counterattack, but Camille has already (link:"stepped away, resetting the distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth -1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
]
(else:)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Attempting to outspeed Camille only drives you forward into his blade, the honed tip piercing your shoulder as you dodge to the side to save your face. You didn't completely botch your reaction however, since evading as you did allows you time to raise your weapon and deflect the blazingly fast three strikes he attempts next. Using the swirl of petals to your advantage, you jump back far enough to (link:"regain distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Knowing full well that Camille will be attempting to use the swirl of petals to his advantage, you focus on the golden pommel of his sword. Tuning out the red and white, your eyes manage to pick up the moment he moves. You step to the side, completely avoiding Camille's powerful thrust. You punish his overextension with a heavy swing to his back, causing him to stumble back in pain. You move to do another swing, but his stumble turns into a slide that (link:"resets the distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Although the petals are hard to see through, they only pose a problem if you're focusing on Camille. Rather than focusing on your opponent, you only focus on the area around you. Keeping a firm stance, you commit to blocking right as Camille's heavy thrust hits your sword. The razor tip of the rapier pulls back for only a second before it's back, in three different times, in three different places, too fast for you to block. His stabs find your shoulder far earlier than you can counterattack, but at least you succeed in (link:"forcing Camille back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[The swirl of petals obscures your vision somewhat, but it doesn't dampen your reaction time in the slightest. With keen senses you deflect a savage thrust, but despite its force the rapier's thin nature allows Camille to keep his grip, pull back and simply try again. Three blindingly fast thrusts pierce your shoulder before you can retaliate. He (link:"evades your attack by spinning away"),[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], tossing petals as he does so.]
]
]
(if:$attackLast is "MidThrust")
[
(if:$camillePhase is 1)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[You turn to the left, but that's all you have the time to do before he's on you. Expecting a high blow, you look forward instinctively. Although Camille lands where you expect him to, he moves too fast for you to track his rapier until it pierces your side from the front. You hiss in pain but stubbornly follow the movement of your turn, swinging at Camille. You almost reach him, but he yanks the rapier back and (link:"rolls away to safety.")[(set: $playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[You turn to the right, but that's all you have the time to do before he's on you. Expecting a high blow, you look forward instinctively. Although Camille lands where you expect him to, he moves too fast for you to track his rapier until it pierces your side from the front. You hiss in pain but stubbornly follow the movement of your turn, swinging at Camille. You almost reach him, but he yanks the rapier back and (link:"rolls away to safety.")[(set: $playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Given Camille's ridiculous speed you brace yourself and lock your feet before throwing up your sword. Your eyes follow Camille's weapon, doing your best to track it as it flies toward you. From a low position he thrusts upward, at your chest. With your sword high you stop the rapier right in its tracks. Camille has no choice but to land as if he succeeded, giving you ample opportunity to swing at him. He gasps and (link:"deftly steps backwards")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")], wounded.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Given Camille's ridiculous speed you brace yourself, lock your feet and keep your sword low. Your eyes follow Camille's weapon, doing your best to track it as it flies toward you. However, rather than thrusting down, he thrusts upward, at your chest. You instinctively try raising your sword even as you lean back, but you are too slow; it pierces. You swing at Camille hoping to at least trade blows, but he (link:"deftly steps backwards.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
]
(else:)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Trying to use the petals to your advantage, you attempt to move into a big cluster to your left where it would be harder to hit you. However, Camille's speed allows him to catch you off-guard, his rapier stabbing through your side from the front. Gritting your teeth you swing, but as soon as Camille yanks his rapier back it lets out another flurry of petals. You only succeed in slicing petals apart, revealing Camille (link:"at normal distance")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] once more.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Trying to use the petals to your advantage, you attempt to move into a big cluster to your right where it would be harder to hit you. However, Camille's speed allows him to catch you off-guard, his rapier stabbing through side from the front. Gritting your teeth you swing, but as soon as Camille yanks his rapier back it lets out another flurry of petals. You only succeed in slicing petals apart, revealing Camille (link:"at normal distance")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] once more.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[The petals create a heavily disadvantageous situation for you, so instead of traversing it you lock your feet and keep your sword high. You struggle to keep an eye on Camille until he's right in front of you, but your high sword is positioned perfectly. His rapier crashes into steel and he has no choice but to get hit as you slice upward. Staggering backward, he lets out another swirl of petals before you can chase him down, (link:"retreating to a safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[The petals create a heavily disadvantageous situation for you, so instead of traversing it you lock your feet and keep your sword low. You struggle to keep an eye on Camille until he's right in front of you, but instead of the clashing of steel you feel a sharp stab to your side from the front. You give a wild swing, forcing Camille to (link:"move back into the swirl of petals")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] before he can stab a more vital area.]]
]
]
(if:$attackLast is "LowThrust")
[
(if:$camillePhase is 1)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[You turn to the left, but that's all you have the time to do before he's on you. Expecting a high blow, you look forward instinctively. Although Camille lands where you expect him to, his rapier does not; it goes much farther down, piercing your foot. You hiss in pain but stubbornly follow the movement of your turn, swinging at Camille. You almost reach him, but he yanks the rapier back and (link:"rolls away to safety.")[(set: $playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[You turn to the right, but that's all you have the time to do before he's on you. Expecting a high blow, you look forward instinctively. Although Camille lands where you expect him to, his rapier does not; it goes much farther down, piercing your foot. You hiss in pain but stubbornly follow the movement of your turn, swinging at Camille. You almost reach him, but he yanks the rapier back and (link:"rolls away to safety.")[(set: $playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Given Camille's ridiculous speed you brace yourself and lock your feet before throwing up your sword. Your eyes follow Camille's weapon, doing your best to track it as it flies toward you. However, rather than thrusting up, he thrusts downward, at your feet. You instinctively try lowering your sword instead of moving your foot, ending up with your foot stabbed. You swing at Camille hoping to at least trade blows, but he (link:"deftly steps backwards.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Given Camille's ridiculous speed you brace yourself, lock your feet and keep your sword low. Your eyes follow Camille's weapon, doing your best to track it as it flies toward you. He thrusts downward, at your feet. With your sword low you stop the rapier right in its tracks. Camille has no choice but to land as if he succeeded, giving you ample opportunity to swing at him. He gasps and (link:"deftly steps backwards")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")], wounded.]
]
(else:)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Trying to use the petals to your advantage, you attempt to move into a big cluster to your left where it would be harder to hit you. However, Camille's speed allows him to catch you off-guard, his rapier stabbing right into your leg. Gritting your teeth you swing, but as soon as Camille yanks his rapier back it lets out another flurry of petals. You only succeed in slicing petals apart, revealing Camille (link:"at normal distance")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] once more.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Trying to use the petals to your advantage, you attempt to move into a big cluster to your right where it would be harder to hit you. However, Camille's speed allows him to catch you off-guard, his rapier stabbing right into your leg. Gritting your teeth you swing, but as soon as Camille yanks his rapier back it lets out another flurry of petals. You only succeed in slicing petals apart, revealing Camille (link:"at normal distance")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] once more.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[The petals create a heavily disadvantageous situation for you, so instead of traversing it you lock your feet and keep your sword high. You struggle to keep an eye on Camille until he's right in front of you, but instead of the clashing of steel you feel a sharp stab to your foot. You give a wild swing, forcing Camille to (link:"move back into the swirl of petals")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] before he can completely disable your leg.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[The petals create a heavily disadvantageous situation for you, so instead of traversing it you lock your feet and keep your sword high. You struggle to keep an eye on Camille until he's right in front of you, but your low sword is positioned perfectly. His rapier crashes into steel and he has no choice but to get hit as you slice upward. Staggering backward, he lets out another swirl of petals before you can chase him down, (link:"retreating to a safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
]
]
(if:$attackLast is "HighFeint")
[
(if:$camillePhase is 1)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Stepping backward quickly, Camille leans forward to maintain a forward stance. However, whatever movement he had in mind is interrupted by your blade flying in front of his face. He attempts to regain his balance, but you seize the opportunity and slash his chest. It is only after he's wounded that he manages to regain his footing and (link:"run back to a safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Camille steps backward incredibly quickly, but he keeps a forward stance with a heavy lean. Your blade flies harmlessly, only slashing where his legs were instead of where they are now. Camille has no such problem however, his rapier finding your leg with a single thrust. You force yourself to walk back despite the pain, seeking a (link:"safer distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Deciding to return bait with a bait of your own, you step forward and see if Camille will attack. As soon as you see him making a big motion you jump out of his way, but instead of leaping right at you he simply steps back and leans forward. He maintains his balance by kicking his leg up and thrusting forward with his rapier. Unable to twist out of the way having just landed, you sustain one wound before you can successfully(link:"scramble back."[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[You know that an attack is coming even before you step forward in an attempt to bait it out. Keeping an iron grip on your sword, you focus your reaction time to as far as it can go. You and Camille watch each other tensely before Camille starts a big motion. Swinging your sword, your attempt to parry would have worked had Camille's rapier been there. However, Camille had stepped back and leaned forward, stabbing you through your open guard when he balances himself. You hiss in pain and (link:"run back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
]
(else:)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Slicing through the petals, your high sword comes dangerously close to Camille's face. He lets out a small 'tsk' and interrupts his own motion, something that involved him leaning forward and stepping back, to try and stand straight without regaining his balance. You swing again and although you don't find his face, your blade bites into his flesh. He fights the pain and manages to stand, (link:"spinning away")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] with the aid of a new burst of petals.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[The flurry of petals makes it difficult to see the result of your actions, but as your sword slices through said petals and the air it dances on you know you've made the wrong decision. The swirl clears at that moment, letting you see Camille stepped back and leaned forward. He balances himself by kicking his leg up and delivering a dangerous thrust to your leg. You just barely tell your body to move in time to turn a duel ender into one wound. You (link:"step back hurriedly")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], before he can finish the job.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Seeing that the petals can be used to your advantage, you move forward threateningly to force Camille into making a mistake of his own. Through the swirl you can see Camille making a large motion, so you immediately dodge to the side. Your next view is of Camille's face closer to yours, and then his low rapier stabbing your leg. You have no choice but to take the hit, forced to (link:"flee to a safer distance")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] as soon as you regain your footing.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Dashing through the swirl of petals, you focus on just two things: the grip on your sword, and Camille's movement. Blind to the petals, you bravely toss your sword up as soon as Camille makes his move. Unfortunately, the ring of steel against steel does not come. Having leaned forward and stepped back, he attacks your nonexistent guard with an elegant downward thrust as he balances himself. You step back before he can decide the duel then and there, but as you (link:"run back")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] you do so wounded.]
]
]
(if:$attackLast is "LowFeint")
[
(if:$camillePhase is 1)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Camille steps backward incredibly quickly, stooping down low as he does so. Your blade flies harmlessly over his hair, just before he stands up again and delivers a devastating thrust. You only avoid a vital organ puncture by leaning backward, but the wound and the sting are still very much present. You walk backward quickly, seeking a (link:"safer distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Stepping backward quickly, Camille stoops low down to the ground. However, whatever movement he had in mind is interrupted by your blade. He attempts to crawl back, but you seize the opportunity and slash down at him. It is only after he's wounded that he manages to regain his footing and (link:"run back to a safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Deciding to return bait with a bait of your own, you step forward and see if Camille will attack. As soon as you see him making a big motion you jump out of his way, but instead of leaping right at you he simply stoops down low while stepping back. Just as you land on your feet he stands back up, thrusting right at you. Unable to twist out of the way, you sustain one wound before you can successfully(link:"scramble back."[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[You know that an attack is coming even before you step forward in an attempt to bait it out. Keeping an iron grip on your sword, you focus your reaction time to as far as it can go. You and Camille watch each other tensely before Camille starts a big motion. Swinging your sword, your attempt to parry would have worked had Camille's rapier been there. However, Camille had stepped back and stooped down low, slashing you through your open guard when he stands. You hiss in pain and (link:"run back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
]
(else:)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[The flurry of petals makes it difficult to see the result of your actions, but as your sword slices through said petals and the air it dances on you know you've made the wrong decision. The swirl clears at that moment, letting you see Camille stepped back and stooped down low. He stands up, delivering a dangerous thrust as he does so. You just barely tell your body to move in time to turn certain loss into one wound. You (link:"step back hurriedly")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], before he can finish the job.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Slicing through the petals, your low sword comes dangerously close to Camille's face. He lets out a small 'tsk' and interrupts his own motion, something that involved him stooped low and stepped back, to try and stand back up without regaining his balance. You swing again and although you don't find his face, your blade bites into his flesh. He fights the pain and manages to stand, (link:"spinning away")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] with the aid of a new burst of petals.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Seeing that the petals can be used to your advantage, you move forward threateningly to force Camille into making a mistake of his own. Through the swirl you can see Camille making a large motion, so you immediately dodge to the side. Your next view is of Camille rising from his lowered position, rapier aimed directly at you. You have no choice but to take the hit, forced to (link:"flee to a safer distance")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] as soon as you regain your footing.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Dashing through the swirl of petals, you focus on just two things: the grip on your sword, and Camille's movement. Blind to the petals, you bravely toss your sword up as soon as Camille makes his move. Unfortunately, the ring of steel against steel does not come. Having stooped down low and stepped back, he attacks your nonexistent guard with an elegant thrust as he stands up. You lean back before he can decide the duel then and there, but as you (link:"run back")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] you do so wounded.]
]
]
(if:$attackLast is "HighFlurry")
[
(if:$camillePhase is 1)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Your attempt to attack is brutally suppressed when you see the edge of Camille's sword heading straight for your face. Unable to raise your weapon in time, he slashes a neat line along your face, missing your eye only because you lean back. He presses the advantage and goes in for three more strikes, each of which you manage to deflect and the last of which you use to (link:"push him back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Anticipating his attack, you prepare a step well before the sword actually gets to a dangerous distance. You easily sidestep the first strike, but the shallow swing lets Camille and his rapier track you. You stumble slightly as you attempt to escape, and instead of one cut you receive three as Camille presses the advantage. Finally you swing your sword, (link:"forcing Camille back as he evades.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Setting your stance firmly, you focus less on the weapon itself and more Camille, paying attention to the way he moves. His swing is light so you block lightly. You notice him tightening his grip, pointing his feet more dramatically. With your stance you are able to deflect all three of his further strikes, unbalancing your opponent. You counterattack, slicing at Camille's side. He gasps and immediately (link:"backs away.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[You keep your sword tightly gripped but your stance loose. An attack comes fast but you are ready, throwing your sword up at the last possible second. The light swing bounces off of your sword, but because it's so light Camille has no trouble keeping control. With your guard wide open he redoubles his offensive, scoring three deep gashes on your shoulder. You try to counterattack, but Camille has already (link:"stepped away, resetting the distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth -1)(goto:"CamillePhase1")]]
]
(else:)
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Attempting to outspeed Camille only drives you forward into his blade, his merciless edge slashing your shoulders as you dodge to the side to save your face. You didn't completely botch your reaction however, since evading as you did allows you time to raise your weapon and deflect the blazingly fast three strikes he attempts next. Using the swirl of petals to your advantage, you jump back far enough to (link:"regain distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Knowing full well that Camille will be attempting to use the swirl of petals to his advantage, you focus on the golden pommel of his sword. Tuning out the red and white, your eyes manage to pick up the moment he swings. You dodge it, but your eyes don't adjust nearly fast enough to see the three swings until they're slicing into your shoulder. You lash out with your sword, but by then it's too late; Camille has (link:"stepped backward.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Although the petals are hard to see through, they only pose a problem if you're focusing on Camille. Rather than focusing on your opponent, you only focus on the area around you. Keeping a firm stance, you commit to blocking right as Camille swings. Thanks to your awareness of the space around you, you block that and the next three swings Camille attempts. Having gotten too close now, you hit Camille with a fierce counterattack to the side. He grunts in pain before spinning, tossing petals into the air to aid in (link:"his retreat.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[The swirl of petals obscures your vision somewhat, but it doesn't dampen your reaction time in the slightest. Trusting in it, you yell as your sword hits Camille's. However, instead of the weighty hit you expected, the way the sword bounces is entirely too light. Retaining control of his rapier, Camille simply attacks again, getting three blindingly fast hits in before you retaliate. He (link:"evades your attack by spinning away")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], however.]
]
]
(if:$attackLast is "MidFlurry")
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Expecting a low attack you leap into the air, and even though rose petals stick to your face you think you've cleared the most important part, the attack. However, you are forced to look down as you feel Camille's rapier slicing down your chest. Spinning his rapier around with expert dexterity, creating a wheel of petals, he gets in two more slices before you finally fall to the ground and (link:"roll away.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Your knees creak as you duck down low, worried eyes turned upward. You barely move your head out of the way when Camille thrusts, but instead of a successful dodge your shoulders receive three slashes at great speed. Camille did this by spinning his sword with extreme dexterity, petals falling in a wheel in its wake. (link:"You throw yourself backward")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], the pain in your back much less than the wounds on your shoulders. ]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Simply stepping to the side, you avoid a light thrust. However, your intuition tells you that this is not the end. Trusting in it, you continue moving, which ended up being the right call as Camille starts spinning his blade. A feat of great dexterity, you pause only to see one turn of his strong fingers before attacking him. You almost succeed in disarming Camille, but he has luck with his grip and manages to hang on before (link:"jumping back.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Simply stepping to the side, you avoid a light thrust. However, your intuition tells you that this is not the end. Trusting in it, you continue moving, but your direction is wrong. You step right into the spin of his rapier, three slashes right to your chest. The spin of his sword would be mesmerizing if it weren't so painful, the feat of dexterity tossing petals out in a wheel. You (link:"jump backward")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] before he can spin it further.]
]
(if:$attackLast is "HighKick")
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Attempting to face Camille head-on, you try and meet his guard with a savage swing. However, before you can really get any momentum behind it, he knocks it away with his rapier. Your head is forced back brutally as Camille's foot hits your chin. As you're flying back you can see just how high Camille kicked, his legs forming a perfect diagonal line. You don't have time to watch however, as before you can even hit the ground Camille kicks you even (link:"further back."[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Seeing Camille with a high guard, you try to take advantage and aim your sword low. However, before you can really get any momentum behind a swing, he knocks it away with his rapier. Your head is forced back brutally as Camille's foot hits your chin. As you're flying back you can see just how high Camille kicked, his legs forming a perfect diagonal line. You don't have time to watch however, as before you can even hit the ground Camille kicks you even (link:"further back.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Wary of the incoming attack just waiting to happen, you jump backward. However, that just gives Camille a better angle as he raises his foot into an incredible high kick, his legs a perfect diagonal line. Propelled further by the force of his kick, you're sent crashing into the wall. Thankfully, even though your sword clatters to the ground, Camille is too far even with his speed. You snatch your weapon up and stand at a (link:"safe distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Wary of the incoming attack just waiting to happen, you duck down. You watch as Camille kicks high above your head, able to see just how perfectly diagonal his legs are set. Before he can bring it back down, you slash at his leg. Instead of falling down, he keeps his leg up until he spins once, putting his foot down only when you miss a second swipe. Even with an injured leg he runs back with great speed to a (link:"safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
]
(if:$attackLast is "LowKick")
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Seeing Camille with a low guard you try to take advantage and aim your sword high. However, before you can really get any momentum behind a swing, he knocks it away with his rapier. Your legs are swept out from underneath you. As you fall back you can see Camille swinging his legs from under you and back to him with incredible speed. Camille jumps and crashes down on your stomach with both feet and hops off almost delicately before punting you (link:"back")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] harshly.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Attempting to face Camille head-on, you try and meet his guard with a savage swing. However, before you can really get any momentum behind it, he knocks it away with his rapier and sweeps your feet. As you fall back, you can see Camille swinging his legs from under you and back to him with incredible speed. Camille jumps and crashes down on your stomach with both feet and hops off almost delicately before punting you (link:"back")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] harshly.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Wary of the incoming attack just waiting to happen, you jump backward. In the few seconds you are in the air, you watch as Camille attempts to sweep your legs but finds air instead. Having swung his entire body in his attack, he can do nothing when you crash down on top of him. With him face down beneath you, you try stabbing down but he grunts and bucks, forcing you off. He rolls away and practically darts back to a(link:"safe distance.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Wary of the incoming attack just waiting to happen, you duck down. You watch as Camille does the same, but he continues his motions where you stop. Placing his hands in front of him, he swings his entire body feet-first, knocking you down. With remarkable speed he completes the swing, standing up as soon as he gets his feet under him again. He leaps into the air and crashes down on your stomach both feet, hopping off almost gently before (link:"punting you back")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] savagely.]
]
(if:$attackLast is "JumpSpin")
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Jumping high, you see Camille doing the same. With his leg raised upward, you realize he attempted a kick. However, he hasn't reached your height and misses you completely. His foot crashes down to the floor, and you have ample time to swing with your sword, earning a pained gasp from Camille. You almost have time to get a second one in but Camille spins, tossing petals into the air as he (link:"retreats.")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Looking upward, you see Camille's outstretched leg as he jumps up. His foot comes crashing down, right on top of your head. The impact forces your face down at remarkable speed, but you manage to turn your face to the side before your nose can break on the hard floor. You scramble to get up, but Camille delivers a harsh kick that sends you rolling. Stubbornly hanging on to your sword, (link:"you get up")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] despite the pain. ]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Stepping to the right, you realize that you've only gotten closer to Camille as he jumps high into the air. He twists, sending his foot flying straight at your face. Your head snaps to the side on impact, but you can still see Camille landing gracefully, spinning around and giving you yet another kick, this time to the chest. (link:"You're sent stumbling backward")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth -1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], bones aching.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[Stepping to the left, you realize that you've only gotten closer to Camille as he jumps high into the air. He twists, sending his foot flying straight at your face. Your head snaps to the side on impact, but you can still see Camille landing gracefully, spinning around and giving you yet another kick, this time to the chest. (link:"You're sent stumbling backward")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], bones aching.]
]
(if:$attackLast is "Grab")
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[You figure that if you attack and it's blocked, you could take advantage of Camille's weak grip and force his rapier back against him. However, by the time you swing, you feel a hand on your arm. Your motion is interrupted as you're yanked toward him, ending up in three slashes straight to your side as Camille spins with extreme speed. When you finally swing your sword, Camille is already (link:"spinning away from you.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Such a blatant show of hand switching registers wrong with you as soon as you see it. Instead of maneuvering your sword, you move yourself, a move that surprises Camille as he reaches out with his left hand and grabs nothing. With his rapier in the other hand he can't defend against your attack, which has him (link:"staggering backward")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] and hissing in pain. ]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Any move with the rapier Camille could make would be pathetically easy to block, so taking up your sword you keep an eye on Camille and his weapon. When he lunges you assume that it's his rapier that will make contact, so you are surprised when you feel skin instead. That soft skin soon turns into a harsh grip that yanks you toward him, and soon all you feel is the pain of his rapier as he spins, three slashes to your side. You (link:"dart backward")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], holding your side. ]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[With his grip weak it should be easy to parry, so you raise your sword and prepare to push back at the last second. With your eyes glued to his rapier you are entirely unprepared for the feel of his hand on your arm. You nearly let go of your own sword but regain grip at the last second. He yanks you closer to him, letting go at the last moment as he spins. Thanks to his speed he slashes your side three times before you finally (link:"move away.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
]
(if:$attackLast is "LowStab")
[
(if:$attackChoice is 1)[Readying your sword, you face his dash head-on. However, Camille has no intention of doing the same, ducking down low as he reverses his grip and stabs down with his rapier with both hands. Pain shoots through your foot but you bring your sword down. Camille is far more prepared than you are however, snatching his sword before throwing himself backward into a roll. He stands up elegantly at a (link:"safe distance.")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")(goto:"CamillePhase2")]]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 2)[Your danger senses blare when you see such an obvious display. Knowing that Camille would not make such an obvious move without some other motive you decide to evade instead of facing it. You jump away just as soon as Camille reverses his grip. He watches you with cruel amusement as you land, and with two hands he forces his rapier into your foot. You grit your teeth and (link:"force him away")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] with your sword, but the pain is still there.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 3)[Confident in your ability to block anything, especially Camille using his less dominant hand, you ready your sword and watch him approach. You flex, ready for a rapier bashing against your sword, but all you get is pain shooting through your foot. Camille had stopped in front of you, reversed his grip, and forced his rapier down with both hands. With your sword raised you attempt a counterattack, but Camille (link:"rolls backward")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")], taking his sword with him.]
(elseif:$attackChoice is 4)[You watch Camille with keen eyes as he approaches, knowing that a weak grip would be easy to parry. You keep your patience even when he gets right up to you, but you are soon rewarded when he reverses his grip. Before he can secure it with his other hand you bash at his sword with yours. You very nearly disarm him but he refuses to let go, so you instead take advantage and slash at him. He (link:"leaps backward")[(set:$camilleHealth to $camilleHealth - 1)(goto:"CamillePhase2")] far too late, and when he lands he stumbles from the pain.]
]
}"And so the brute falls," Camille says as your sword clatters to the ground. He kicks it far away, making sure you have absolutely nothing to wield as he comes closer to you.
Injured as you are you can only try and crawl away, but soon his boot plants itself firmly on your back, forcing you to the floor. He raises his rapier and stabs you right between the shoulder blades. Strangely however, you don't feel an ounce of pain. Soon, you realize, that the blood that is supposed to be trickling out of you has turned to red petals.
You feel the will to fight sapping out of you, but not so much that you can't acknowledge the humiliation of defeat. When Camille orders you to undress, you do so even though you rant and rave. When he escorts you into a bathroom full of shocked maids, you sit down and let them wash and dress you clean even as you yell at them not to. Worst of all, when you are presented to the public with clothes exposing your chest and butt, when Camille gifts you to the princes, you bend over and present yourself, even fingering your hole when he tells you to.
"This is the disgraced King of Wevendh, $fName $lName. He had the audacity to attack me in my chambers in an attempt to assassinate me. As you can see, his efforts have been in vain. When he realized the errors of his actions, he begged to be forgiven. Let this be a reminder to all those who think they can overturn diplomacy with brute strength that only humiliation awaits them. Now then- please, partake of this gift."
While princes of the higher standing politely decline or say nothing as they observe the situation, the ones far away from the throne and with nothing to lose happily grab at you. Before you can rant that you've been manipulated somehow, your mouth and ass are stuffed full of cock.
You scream in pain, which turns into pleasure instantly when Camille tells you to enjoy it. You moan and squeeze down as those dicks violate you, spread your walls and your throat wide open. Even the taste becomes pleasurable, which makes your face burn hotly when you greedily swallow a hot load pumped into your mouth.
Eventually the princes on the sidelines grow impatient waiting and stick their dick wherever they can find purchase. Your hands are filled first, then someone crawls under you to thrust between your pecs, and someone follows the lead of the first, doing much the same thing except squeezing his cock into your already stuffed hole.
It isn't long before you can't hold it and you cum, but the princes have no care for your sensitivity and thrust away for their own pleasure. You cum no less than three times as the princes keep swapping, keep your entire body occupied with dick.
By the time they finish you are left exhausted, cum running from both ends and splattered over your body. The maids drag you away and bathe you, but when the next day comes you travel to a prince's quarters to give him personal service.
You are passed around from prince to prince over and over and over again. You never imagined that you'd learn all of the prince's names and features, let alone the size of their cocks and which places to lick to satisfy them, but you do. Your will never truly dies, but it only makes the process all the more torturous.
You know that you're the king of Wevendh, yet you let yourself be debased and used like a common whore.
The only thing keeping you going is the idea that you'll be free eventually, you just need the right opportunity. However, the right opportunity never seems to come when you're filled all day and all night by princely cock.
''Game Over.''
[[Retry.->CamilleFight]]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]Months have passed since your prince defeated you in a duel.
Shortly after your defeat, you were brought to the populace of Frateo and declared the Prince's concubine. You soon figured out that since you were a concubine and not a consort, you had no power in Frateo whatsoever.
Envoys from Wevendh rallied against what they thought was a diplomatic attack, only to look on in disbelief as you explained that this was entirely your choice. With thoughts of resistance scrubbed from your mind, only what your prince ordered you to do took precedence.
That's why you aren't lonely even though he keeps you in his sanctum, forbidding you from ever coming out. As badly as you want to see your prince, you know his presence is a reward for good behavior. So you do everything he's assigned you to do, such as managing Wevendh to suit the needs of Frateo, cleaning the sanctum and making sure you're ready when he comes home.
That's why, when he's riding you, you hope you've been good enough to remove the cock ring he loves putting on you.
Chained to the bed, you can't even move your limbs as Camille slams his tight hole down on you. The pressure and heat squeezing your cock has you whining, thrusting up even when Camille slides off of you, keeping his ass just above where you can reach. Still, you try, feverishly humping your hips in an attempt to get back into that heavenly hole.
You scream when he sits back down on you, and you would have cum right then and there had it not been for that fucking cock ring. So you sputter and plead, sweat dripping to the sheets and drool leaking from your mouth. You call him just about every title as you desperately seek release.
Camille looks down on you cruelly, tracing a finger over your nipple. He ignores your pleas and grabs your nipples roughly, twisting the sensitive nubs over and over again. You know your voice will go hoarse tomorrow when you continue begging to cum, getting it out through gasping breaths.
"Well, I suppose it has been a few months since I gave you our 'partner ring'. Who am I to deny the needs of my oh-so-devoted concubine?"
He slips off of you and turns around. His face gets so close to your throbbing cock that you can feel his breath on it, while his ass and stretched hole settle in front of your face. You dutifully run your tongue over his hole, tasting the tang of salt and your own pre. It's a taste you've gotten accustomed to and even grown to love.
Camille on the other hand masterfully swallows your whole dick, which makes you moan and squirm into his ass. The only part he leaves outside of his mouth and throat is the very base, where the cock ring still is. He sucks hard and fast, which has your legs quivering. But still, he refuses to take off that damn ring.
"Please! Please Master, you promised!" You cry out.
He rolls his eyes but slowly sucks upward. When at last your twitching head is free of his mouth, he yanks the cock ring off and puts his mouth right back, sucking with a vengeance. You cum instantly, blowing a steady stream of white right into Camille's waiting mouth. Mouth full of sloshing seed, he turns around once more and takes your chin. Pulling it down, he lets all of the cum dribble from his mouth and into yours. Once it's all gone, he spits into the mixture for good measure.
"Don't swallow just yet. Keep your mouth open."
You do as is asked of you. Camille gets up onto his knees and starts stroking his cock feverishly. Just over your thudding heartbeat you can hear various insults in Camille's whispered groans. You don't mind, of course. Your prince has all the right to do this to you.
Splatters of white paint your face. You swallow everything held in your mouth before reaching out with your tongue for more, scooping up as much as you can to swallow.
Your prince smiles down at you, and although some part of you says that it's cruel, you are happy nonetheless.
''Game Over.''
[[Retry.->CamilleFight]]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]"I know exactly what my plan is, and that's savoring you."
Camille goes wide-eyed and struggles again, this time careful to move away from the sword as he does so. With your weight on him he barely moves, however. You yank down your pants and briaes, freeing your fat cock. You do the same to Camille, although you do stop for a second to appreciate his perfect bubble butt.
When you squeeze them roughly the sounds Camille makes are heavenly. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realize that you're probably the only person to have experienced this, if his claims of purity are to believed. Your cock throbs. If you're going to do this, you have to do it now.
You move your knees from his arms to just behind his butt, grabbing both of his hands before they can flail wildly like you know he wants to do. You don't have the luxury of lube, so you do what you can with mass amounts of spit, dropping it both on your cock and into his crack. Reaching down with one hand and keeping the other firmly on Camille's, you spread the spit wherever it needs to be. Eventually you deem yourself ready. When your fully hard cock slides into his crack and starts prodding at his hole, the reality of the situation hits Camille.
"GUARDS!" He screams, which turns into a strangled cry of pain as you thrust into him. It's not nearly as smooth without the lube, but Camille's walls are hot and heavenly. He holds your cock practically in a vice grip, far too tight to accept any more. You adjust your hips, but you realize there's probably only one way to get him to relax so you can conquer his hole properly.
Lifting Camille using the hand on his arms and reaching around with the other, you find a surprisingly hard dick. You chuckle lowly. "You're enjoying this?"
"Shut up! This is just a natural reaction!" He says, face burning. He yelps when you grab his cock, and you can feel him not only throbbing from the front but squeezing at the back. "I'd never feel pleasure from a brute!"
"Oh yeah?" You immediately start stroking him, and you notice the lack of struggle from his arms. Where they were ready to fly out at a moment's notice, they now flex only when you drag your hand down his dick slowly, or rub around the tip with your thumb. His breath hitches whenever you do the latter, so you keep doing it.
"Guards!" Camille yells again, this time just a bit quieter. As soon as he does that you rub his tip, so his voice trails off into a shaky moan. In the moment he finally relaxes, you stuff as much cock as you can into his hole. While it isn't all the way to the base, you've gotten about halfway in. With this much leverage you can simply rock back and forth now, slowly but surely conquering Camille's depths no matter how hard he squeezes.
As Camille's legs start kicking against the floor from the stretch, you feel even less resistance from his arms. Risking it, you let go and immediately start squeezing both his nipples. It's almost too bad that you're behind him, because you would have loved to see those tiny pink nubs perk up, squished and rolled not only by your fingers but your tongue. You have to admit though that seeing your cock halfway into Camille's fat ass is a priceless sight in of itself.
Your thinking is interrupted by a loud moan that Camille lets out, at which point he moves his freed hands to cover his mouth. He's even more sensitive from his nipples than his cock, a fact which you exploit mercilessly. You tug harder and harder, basking in the muffled moans Camille tries to hide. When you let go of him, he relaxes yet again- and you slam the rest of your cock in.
Before you can pound him into oblivion, however, a knock comes at the door.
"My prince! You did not inform us of your desire!"
Camille's face of hope crumbles when you pull your hips back and thrust in savagely. His hands practically fly back to his face, just barely managing to muffle his moan. Had he been even a second later, his whorish moan would have filled the entire room. You do the same thing once, twice more, but Camille refuses to make another noise.
You lean forward and lick his ear, causing him to shiver and glare at you. He cannot keep his hateful expression however, because you rock your hips and flick over one of his nipples. "Stubborn little prince. Say anything out of the ordinary and you'll regret it."
"You can't stop me," He hisses. As soon as he turns his head you thrust three times, the first two he manages to cover but the third so loud that he //squeals//. With a smug grin, you angle your hips the same way and start grinding, and Camille shakes his head desperately.
"P-Prince?" The guard asks, bewildered. "Are you in the middle of private matters?"
Camille grunts and tries to put on his most normal tone of voice even as you grind at his prostate. "Wording it like that is suspect. I'm merely sorting through the gifts I received."
Amused by his attempts at normalcy, your devious side concocts a plan to turn this into an advantage. Giving Camille's nipples one last hard squeeze first, they run down Camille's body, tracing his soft skin and avoiding his wounds. As soon as you're done you need to get a healer for him, so your prize doesn't scar. Once you reach his butt, you give a smack that causes Camille to glare even as he squeezes down on you. Pulling his hips as you move backward, you get Camille onto his knees.
The glare turns into a confused look that stays on his face until you take his hands in yours. He realizes in the last second, but any noise of protest immediately turns into a broken moan as you pull his hands back hard, lifting Camille's chest up and off the floor. With this angle it's much easier to hit his prostate, so that's exactly what you do; pull Camille right back onto your cock as you thrust, making sure that his prostate is smashed over and over again.
Your hapless partner tries to break free but with his brain frying from pleasure, he can't muster the strength. Suspicious sounds keep leaking from his mouth, and although you can't see it you're sure that he's blushing fiercely, that cute cock of his twitching every time you enter him.
"My prince, are you okay?" The guard says, both concern and suspicion apparent in his voice.
"Of course. I'm just lifting something heav-" This time you don't let him finish his spiel, forcing him to moan instead of finish his sentence. Camille lowers his voice however, making it sound more like exertion than being fucked like a bitch like he actually is.
Well, you can't have that. You pull back even harder, moving your hips as fast as you can. Lewd sounds of squelching and flesh hitting flesh threaten to give the two of you away even as Camille clamps his mouth shut. Camille seems to realize this and looks back at you.
"St-o-o-o-op!" He squeezes the words through gritted teeth, his voice hitching every time you slam your hips against his butt.
"Tell him that you relinquish the throne of Frateo to me or I will pick you up, speared on my cock, and open that door. What will your guards think when they see their perfect prince dominated by a foreign king? Or is that what you want? Paraded around your people as nothing more than a bitch who was tamed?"
"Y... No!" Camille squirms once more but only succeeds in driving himself back onto your cock, which forces another choked moan out of him. You keep up the pressure and eventually Camille throws his head back. As much as you love how tight his hole is, you leave off. Wait until he's whimpering, unable to get over that final edge of cumming. You bark a harsh laugh when you feel him moving of his own accord.
With a cruel smirk, you finally let go of his hands, but start scooping him up by the thighs.
"I fucking hate you," Camille says in a panicked voice and yells quickly at the guard. "I'll be present at the chancery later to work out the finer details, but tell them to begin the process of transferring power to the King of Wevendh. The people will learn of the benefit in time."
"Understood!" You and Camille hear heavy footfalls as the guard leaves to break the dramatic news.
Just finish fucking Camille.
(link:"Finish fucking Camille, but break his will.")[(set:$playerDom to $playerDom + 1)(set:$camilleSlave to true)(goto:"CamilleBrokenEnding")]
Pick him up and fuck him while walking out of the door.Without the pesky guard in the way you're free to hammer Camille's prostate and his will into nothingness. Moving your hands to his hips, you bask in the dominance and control you hold over the once proud prince. However, there's just one thing missing. As you watch Camille gasping and writhing underneath you, you realize what it is.
Swinging your leg over, you plant your foot squarely on his face. While it was on the ground already, it cements your status so thoroughly that Camille shivers and moans. With renewed energy from the rush of power you thrust as hard and as fast as you can. As you do so, you taunt your former opponent.
"Who do you belong to?"
At first Camille is obstinate, but as his gasps and moans from the front and the sounds of his violation from the back fill the room, you can practically see his will breaking. When you grind your boot into his face, he finally submits.
"You! Gods, you're such a brute! Coming in here, pinning me down, I... I hate you! But your cock, ugh, your cock is- fuck!"
You cum at the same time, filling Camille with your pentup seed while he dumps all of his on the floor, wasted. As you pull out you have one last idea to put Camille in his place, once and for all.
"If you love my brute cock that much then go ahead and kiss it. Balls too."
Camille blushes fiercely, but the fire he once had within him no longer burns. He crawls forward, head hung in shame, only raising it when he's right before your legs. He puts those soft lips right on the tip of your cock and gives it a kiss. Unable to control himself when he ducks down, he licks and suckles at your balls for a few seconds before kissing them each.
[[Camille Amoroux has been broken.->FrateoConquestEnding]]After Camille's defeat, you lay around his quarters while he does the difficult job of persuading the various political entities to transfer the power to you. You have no idea how he does it the few times you drop by, carrying himself proudly and commanding overs with natural grace despite the grievous loss you dealt him.
It proves to be a lengthy process even for him, so you stay in his quarters for a while. (if:$camilleSlave is true)[You easily entertain yourself by using Camille as a cumdump, slowly training both of his holes to remember everything about your cock. The contrast between the proud Camille arguing for you to the other princes and the pathetic Camille licking your dick makes it all the hotter.](else:)[Occasionally you fear that he might try to combat you once more, but after you take possession of his rapier he seems to have lost all will to go through with such a drastic measure. So you simply wait, perusing his books and anticipating the throne.]
His silver tongue prevails eventually however, and you are regarded with much suspicion as the new King of Frateo. With Camille acting directly beneath you however, he protects your throne and makes it untouchable to the other princes once more.
With all the documents published and the news spreading through the world, there is no way for Camille to reverse this situation. He knows this and begrudugingly accompanies you to the edge of Frateo, where you make him swear that he will run Frateo solely for your benefit.
(link:"You return to Wevendh a successful conqueror.")[(set:$endFrateo to true)(set:$conquerFrateo to true)(set:$endCount to $endCount+1)(goto:"NationHub")]The moonlight is a constant companion as your carriage travels through the night, as sure and as common as the bumps in the road or the soft clops from your carriage's horses.
And yet, it disappears.
While this would normally be a cause for alarm, it's only natural for your destination. Poking your head out of the carriage door, you look up at the Citadel. Approaching from the opposite side of the moon, the Citadel as you see it is cloaked in shadows, giving it a more sinister edge. Like a fairy tale it has two sides, the duality of magic; during the day it is like a whimsical bastion of dreams, but during the night it is like the impenetrable lair of wicked sorcery.
Most people have long since grown out of such black-and-white judgments like that, especially since the Citadel extinguishes problems before they begin, but the primal fear is always there, always present. Humans are naturally afraid of the unknown, and magic is unknown to those who are not gifted with it.
Still, you approach with courage and the self-confidence of a king. If the common man does not dare to plumb the depths, it falls onto the shoulders of the rulers to do so.
The traders have already set up camp for the night, and they barely pay you mind as your carriage passes by. As soon as it's clear that you're not there for their possessions, they fall back asleep with no trouble.
You reach the center of the massive shadow only after several careful detours to avoid the myriad craters. With no mages in sight, probably asleep at this ungodly hour, you disembark and tell the coachman to get some rest himself.
Whether by luck or sheer coincidence, you stumble on a dormant magic circle. It reacts to your royal insignia, and you barely have time to close your eyes before searing white light surrounds you. You're stunned for much longer than usual as your night-adjusted eyes try to wipe out the white that burned into your eyelids.
When you finally open your eyes however, you realize that you've been transported. The cool night air sweeps through your air as the moonlight casts its gentle glow on you. The sight of the moonlight on your skin alone is enough to tell you that you've ended up on the roof of the Citadel.
Not only that, but no one is aware of your entrance. You have the element of surprise on your side.
Using the light of the moon, you read a signpost that points in several directions: the staircase to the castle's lower level, directly behind you, the library to the southwest, and the Council building rising taller still in front of you.
You...
Enter the castle's lower levels.
[[Enter the library.->FCNightLibrary]]
Enter the Council building.Outside of your firmly barricaded building, well away from your hearing, people are shooed away by rapidly appearing people of great stature.
"It's a shame that we have to take such drastic measures," says a long, tawny haired Diermies girl, her smile betraying her insincere tone. She sits on the steps leading up to the Council building, facing the slowly growing group of magical representatives. "But drastic is the name of the game. When all the chips are down, you gotta swing! 'Sides, it's not the first time we had to sacrifice one of our own."
The clinking of a metal container grabs most of the crowd's attention, turning heads toward the man fiddling with it. He looks up at them before giving a placating smile from behind his dark-tinted glasses. "Sorry, you know how habits are. They're bad for you, but it's so hard to kick. At least my vice doesn't involve reckless killing like Sima's."
"You're lucky you're smoking hot or I'd kick your ass," the Diermies girl, Sima, yells as she watches the dark-haired man rub leaves directly onto his teeth.
The conversation would have continued were it not for the annoyed voice of an owl Diermies cutting through, shrill. With brown feathers fluffed to unnatural levels, the stressed Council member known as Klaus brings them back to the matter at hand. "Leave the quarrels for the nations you inhabit. Are we sure about this?"
"Awww, look at the concerned uncle." The man says, putting away his container and pulling out a single card. He gracefully spins it around his fingers, his deft movements leaving it unclear if it's a simple feat of dexterity or an act of actual magic. "I know you practically raised him, but we all know what must be done. He's not actually related to you, after all."
With an almost careless flick, he sends the card flying. The card moves unnaturally through the air, passing by the crowd gathered at the library, slipping through the gap in the doors with ease. It navigates through the maze of furniture before landing on the floor directly in front of you. Picking it up, you see the strange iconography of the card- 'ROYAL', it says, accompanied with an amalgamation of a king and a queen.
"You're so mean!" Sima yells, her frizzy hair standing on end. "I thought I'd be the one to finish the brat off for good. Hmph, the next time we have a high profile target, you give them to me."
"Sure, sure." The man rolls his eyes. "It doesn't matter to me, not when ''the house always wins.''"
The card you hold expands greatly in size, forcing you to drop it in surprise. The last thing you see before you, Timo and the library itself disappears is the sneering face of the Royal card.
''Game Over.''Floating high above you, surrounded by a potent magic circle, is the Praecantator Timo Feysepp.
Latent magical energy crackles in the air, so thick that it is hard to breathe. Beneath him several magical tomes float in a slow horizontal ring, only their names betraying what element they hide inside.
{(if:$timoHealth is 7)[In pristine condition, Timo wields magic with the same ease as breathing. A smile graces his features, more mischievous than anything- it seems that he isn't taking you seriously, at least not yet. Given his overwhelming magical power and your failure to harm him thus far, you begrudgingly admit that it isn't unwarranted.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 6)[Annoyance mars Timo's expression from time to time, but only that- annoyance. Even when he isn't smiling, probably imagining you as some problem to solve, you're just an obstacle to him. Well, having gotten a hit on him, you resolve to make him acknowledge you as a real opponent.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 5)[With two successful hits, confusion creeps into Timo's face. Completely unsteady now, his faded smile speaks of his steadily increasing worry. You take a second to note that although wounded, Timo still sees this as an issue beneath him; that, coupled with his magical power, is something to be scared of.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 4)[The smile has mostly disappeared from Timo's face, replaced by a concerned expression complete with a raised eyebrow. You've proven to Timo that you're someting to actually worry about, but it's clear that your opponent still isn't at full capacity. Not in magical power, not by a long shot.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 3)[Although still high above you in the air, you can just feel the shift of positions as Timo stares you down. He was once lofty and untouchable, but with the amount of successful hits you got on him, the gap is steadily closing.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 2)[Now fully frowning, Timo's actions become more erratic. Where he used to stand in place confidently, he now fidgets nervously and even takes a few steps from side to side, like he's simply standing on solid air. Given his power, that may be exactly what he's doing.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 1)[Biting down on his thumb, Timo has come a long way from the cavalier attitude he started with. Although he shows no sign of slowing down physically, it's clear that you've shaken him mentally. That doesn't mean you can afford to be wary, however- even in his confusion, his magic is strong.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 0)[(goto:"TimoEnterPhase2")]}
{(if:$playerHealth is 5)[The thrum of magic in the air serves as a constant but inspiring reminder that you've avoided all of Timo's attacks thus far. Although the pressure is intense, it is by no means painful. It's the anticipation of the pain from Timo's attacks that makes your heart beat faster, makes you just a little bit more focused on victory.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 4)[The sting of pure magical element on your skin is painful, especially in the presence of someone whose sheer power makes it resonate with him. Still, this is exactly what you signed up for when you attacked. Gritting your teeth, you simply have to bear with it.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 3)[Right at the point where your pain tolerance is broken, you simply cannot ignore the throbbing feeling from your wounds. Timo's attacks are simply devastating, and you're feeling it practically in your bones. You still have energy however, and you fully intend to use it to fight back.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[Elemental flakes fall off your body, evidence of the different magical attacks sticking to your skin from their great impacts. You're not exactly on the brink of defeat, but you know you can't afford to take more hits like this. Victory is still within reach however- you just need to snatch it from Timo's hands.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[Particles of different elements cake your skin, their impact so great that they refuse to budge even as you stumble around the books. Your entire body aches, on the verge of collapse. It's a constant battle of will, as you have to fight against the resonance that pulls you down every second.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 0)[(goto:"TimoBadEnd1")]}
(link:"Continue.")[(goto:"TimoMagicInit")]You reach for your hidden dagger, but as your fingers wrap around the familiar grip your brain gives you pause. Your dagger was forged for the express purpose of being light, perfect for a sneak attack such as this, and yet it feels so heavy as you look down at your target.
It is not the weight of steel you feel, but the weight of fear.
Mages can be dangerous. That is a simple fact of life; the reason why the Citadel is so secure in its status. The person in front of you is the most powerful of them all, so much so that the illustrious Council lives in constant fear of him. Now that you're so close you can just feel the sheer magical power radiating off of him, even when he's just poring over books instead of casting anything. It's a sudden and powerful feeling that washes over you from time to time, completely unlike the low hum that you've felt everywhere else in the Citadel.
There is still time to retreat, to stay your dagger and find some other avenue of dealing with Timo. Every sense in your body is telling you that, should you continue with your plan, ''Timo is one of the most difficult opponents you could possibly face.''
With that in mind, you...
Let go of your dagger.
[[Continue with the plan.->TimoFight]]The last blast finally breaks Timo's utter concentration, sending the short mage flying backward in a spin. His wild trajectory causes him to slam into one of the tallest shelves, sending the wooden structure crashing into the floor. Countless magical tomes meet the floor and you watch keenly, wondering if Timo will meet the same fate as the unsteady wizard drops into a nosedive.
Right before he hits the floor however his magic circle reignites, and quite violently at that. Papers, books, shelves, even railings are torn from their places and sent crashing into the wall. Fear thrums through your heart momentarily as Timo just floats there, upside down, his sheer magical power fluctuating wildly. At times you can barely feel it, at other times it is enough to make the entire library shake.
While you're still confident that the library will hold thanks to its numerous anti-magic defenses baked into its walls, the shaking is troublesome. It's impossible to hide but luckily for you the library has seen quite a few shakes in its time. Really, it's the source of the shaking that should (and does) have your attention.
Timo's eyes fly open, their glow and orange brilliance almost like the morning sun. "Ah... Ahhh!"
At Timo's pained shriek two more magic circles form around him, each one bigger and more complex than the last. Even at this distance your skin ripples with pain, the mere uncomfortable prickling sensation turning into a searing one that causes your entire body to ache. Although Timo is shrieking you get the feeling that he doesn't experience the magic pain as you do, but is instead fighting an inner struggle with his own limiters. You know he was raised by the Magic Council, so you wouldn't put it above them.
Suddenly righting himself, Timo ascends once more into the air. Face twisted in pain, he regards you with utter weariness. "I don't like this. The folks of the Council always say that there's a way out without using magic, without obliterating everything in sight. I believe them, but... I don't think you believe that. Not now, not when you went this far just to hurt me. There's only one way this can go."
The books you and Timo made use of shake violently, even separate to that of the library and everything else in it. After a few moments of shaking, an ear-splitting crack nearly deafens you as they morph. No longer simple tomes, their materials and even their names have changed to suit their elements better.
"In the world of magic, mages are taught to control elements one by one out of necessity. If an inexperienced mage attempts two at once, their spells will be so weak they border on nothing, or they will drain their own vitality attempting to cast anything half-decent. It's the mark of an accomplished mage to make use of two elements at once."
You already know where he's going with this so you do your best to brace yourself, ready to dart to whatever grimoire you need.
(link:'"Only gods and legends can wield three."')[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth + 2)(set:$timoHealth to 7)(set:$timoPhase to 2)(goto:"TimoPhase2")]{(if:$timoAttack's 1st is "Earth")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Wind")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)In the space of a blink your tome shoots with insane speed, your hair and clothes whipping back. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado envelops Timo, using its own rotation to smash through his outermost magic circle, which he uses to block.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Poison")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A gourd sealed with a bright red stopper rolls onto the floor from the pages of your chosen tome. Rolling of its own accord, it explodes when Timo's spear pierces its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle the spear. Now purple, they immobilize you completely with shots of thick, stinging mud. You try to claw your way out, but the rocky spear does it for you, knocking you backward with great force.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his vine-wrapped spear pierces through it. Although it flies high above your head, the vines latch into the floor around you, caging you in with plantlife. Any attempt you could have made to escape is squashed just like you are, as the slab of rock falls onto your back.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Poison")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Earth")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Summoning an object tightly wrapped in vines, they unfurl to reveal an earthen spear. It launches at Timo's gourd, piercing its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle your spear. Now purple, they shoot thick, stinging mud which Timo blocks easily with his outermost magic circle. The spear however pierces right through, crumbling itself when it hits Timo's second circle.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Water")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)From your chosen book comes a massive bubble, so delicate-looking but not popping despite the rushing rapids circling around it. The much smaller gourd that it approaches is easily swept up into the bubble. However, as soon as the gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, lashing you with liquid that sticks and stings in your clothing.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his black and red gourd rolls through it. It lands at your feet before exploding violently, glazed shards making minor wounds that become much worse as the purple, green and yellow mixture inside makes its way into your system. Your body feels so much heavier from that.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Water")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Poison")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)From your chosen book comes a black glazed gourd with a bright red stopper. Your small attack is immediately taken into Timo's much bigger bubble, surrounded by rushing water. However, as soon as your gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, breaking through Timo's first circle with spraying lashes but disappearing at his second.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Metal")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Three wickedly sharp sawblades fall to the floor, spinning deep gouges into the library floor as several swords are tossed into the air. The collection of metal instruments shoots straight into Timo's bubble, but despite all their jagged edges they fail to pop the bubble. They dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on you, so numerous that you can't possibly dodge.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease the rapids surrounding his bubble deflects it. Its rapids move like arms that reach out to scoop you backward and you're tossed into the bubble before long. Once inside, the rapid squeeze the bubble inward until the whole thing pops, leaving you sputtering and bruised on the floor.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Metal")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Water")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)One massive bubble floats from the pages into the air, surrounded by two rapids that constantly circle the bubble. It fails to pop even as Timo tosses a swathe of sawblades and swords at it, simply bending before swallowing them. The weapons dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on Timo, its combined power smashing through his first magic circle.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Fire")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)As soon as you open your tome, an orb of pure flame forms for just a second before it disappears completely. Soon however, the center of the magic circle becomes red hot. As Timo sends an arsenal of weapons carved of metal at you, the circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat the weapons out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. The drops of liquid flame on their blades make your wounds worse when they inflict them.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his sawblades and swords cut through it, like hot knives through butter. Dashing to the side you manage to evade his straight shot sword volley, but the trajectory of the saws are much harder to predict. They cut into you, stunning you long enough that the swords graze your side.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Fire")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Metal")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)As soon as you open your tome, three sawblades fall to the floor as numerous swords are tossed into the air. When the arsenal of carved metal weapons is sent at Timo, a red-hot spot in the middle of the library's magic circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat your attack out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. With liquid flame on their blades they sear through Timo's first magic circle.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Ice")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Even just the turning of the pages in your tome spills snow and icy shards in great quantities, which quickly gather into clusters that look like flowers. The petals they shed, numerous though they are, are quickly snatched out of the air by pillars of fire that thrash like tentacles. The more they consume, the bigger and wilder they become. When they smash right through the flowers themselves, the tentacle-like flames slam down on you with great and scorching force.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his sawblades and swords cut through it, like hot knives through butter. Dashing to the side you manage to evade his straight shot sword volley, but the trajectory of the saws are much harder to predict. They cut into you, stunning you long enough that the swords graze your side.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Ice")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Fire")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)The turning of the pages in your tome makes it seem like that gentle motion extinguishes the small orb of flame it creates. Bendy pillars of flame erupt from the center of the library's magic circle however, swatting at the icy petals shed from Timo's frost flowers. With each petal absorbed they become larger and wilder, until they smash straight through the flowers themselves. Now massive, their combined weight easily smashes through Timo's outermost magic circle, but not his second.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Wind")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Your tome practically flings itself open with the force of your wind blast, your eyes tracing its trail rather than the projectile itself. Looking over at Timo, you realize that your wind ball is meeting extreme resistance just from the aura of his frost flowers, so much so that it turns into a tornado without hitting anything. Even the tornado slows before long, and the petals start redirecting it. The slow-moving tornado spits out a spray of ice petals which crash right into you.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his icy petals smother it, his frost flowers spitting many more afterward. The cold is intense, the chill seeping into your bones even before they get very close. Although the petals are slow, they seep heat from you so easily that your body weakens.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Wind")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Ice")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Your tome opens slowly, spraying a gentle but numerous swathe of ice and snow into the air. The concentration of frost forms so gently it is easy to see what goes into each icy flower, a sharp contrast to Timo's speedy wind blast. Despite its speed the wind struggles greatly against the cold, slowing down and creating a tornado prematurely, which only ends up getting slowed itself. Your flowers shed petals which are then shot from the tornado, wearing down Timo's outermost magic circle.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Earth")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Wrapped tightly in vines, your rocky spear takes a while to leave the confines of its tome as Timo's ridiculously speedy blast of wind careens toward it. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado traps you in place as it uses your own spear to batter you.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his wind ball punches through it, leaving a noticeable circular gap before your magic fades. It hits your chest directly, and you can feel intense pressure before a tornado forms around you. You're soon swept into the rotating walls of wind before being spat out onto the wall painfully.]
]}
{(if:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Earth")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Wind")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)In the space of a blink your tome shoots with insane speed, your hair and clothes whipping back. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado envelops Timo, using its own rotation to smash through his second magic circle, leaving him with just one defense left.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)In the space of a blink your tome shoots with insane speed, your hair and clothes whipping back. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado envelops Timo, using its own rotation to smash through his outermost magic circle, which he uses to block.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Poison")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A gourd sealed with a bright red stopper rolls onto the floor from the pages of your chosen tome. Rolling of its own accord, it explodes when Timo's spear pierces its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle the spear. Now purple, they immobilize you completely with shots of thick, stinging mud. You try to claw your way out, but the rocky spear does it for you, knocking you backward with great force.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his vine-wrapped spear pierces through it. Although it flies high above your head, the vines latch into the floor around you, caging you in with plantlife. Any attempt you could have made to escape is squashed just like you are, as the slab of rock falls onto your back.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Poison")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Earth")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)Summoning an object tightly wrapped in vines, they unfurl to reveal an earthen spear. It launches at Timo's gourd, piercing its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle your spear. Now purple, they shoot thick, stinging mud which Timo blocks easily with his second magic circle. The spear however pierces right through, crumbling itself when it hits Timo's third circle.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Summoning an object tightly wrapped in vines, they unfurl to reveal an earthen spear. It launches at Timo's gourd, piercing its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle your spear. Now purple, they shoot thick, stinging mud which Timo blocks easily with his outermost magic circle. The spear however pierces right through, crumbling itself when it hits Timo's second circle.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Water")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)From your chosen book comes a massive bubble, so delicate-looking but not popping despite the rushing rapids circling around it. The much smaller gourd that it approaches is easily swept up into the bubble. However, as soon as the gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, lashing you with liquid that sticks and stings in your clothing.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his black and red gourd rolls through it. It lands at your feet before exploding violently, glazed shards making minor wounds that become much worse as the purple, green and yellow mixture inside makes its way into your system. Your body feels so much heavier from that.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Water")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Poison")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)From your chosen book comes a black glazed gourd with a bright red stopper. Your small attack is immediately taken into Timo's much bigger bubble, surrounded by rushing water. However, as soon as your gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, breaking through Timo's second circle with spraying lashes but disappearing at his third.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)From your chosen book comes a black glazed gourd with a bright red stopper. Your small attack is immediately taken into Timo's much bigger bubble, surrounded by rushing water. However, as soon as your gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, breaking through Timo's first circle with spraying lashes but disappearing at his second.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Metal")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Three wickedly sharp sawblades fall to the floor, spinning deep gouges into the library floor as several swords are tossed into the air. The collection of metal instruments shoots straight into Timo's bubble, but despite all their jagged edges they fail to pop the bubble. They dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on you, so numerous that you can't possibly dodge.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease the rapids surrounding his bubble deflects it. Its rapids move like arms that reach out to scoop you backward and you're tossed into the bubble before long. Once inside, the rapid squeeze the bubble inward until the whole thing pops, leaving you sputtering and bruised on the floor.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Metal")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Water")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)One massive bubble floats from the pages into the air, surrounded by two rapids that constantly circle the bubble. It fails to pop even as Timo tosses a swathe of sawblades and swords at it, simply bending before swallowing them. The weapons dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on Timo, its combined power smashing through his second magic circle.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)One massive bubble floats from the pages into the air, surrounded by two rapids that constantly circle the bubble. It fails to pop even as Timo tosses a swathe of sawblades and swords at it, simply bending before swallowing them. The weapons dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on Timo, its combined power smashing through his first magic circle.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Fire")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)As soon as you open your tome, an orb of pure flame forms for just a second before it disappears completely. Soon however, the center of the magic circle becomes red hot. As Timo sends an arsenal of weapons carved of metal at you, the circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat the weapons out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. The drops of liquid flame on their blades make your wounds worse when they inflict them.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his sawblades and swords cut through it, like hot knives through butter. Dashing to the side you manage to evade his straight shot sword volley, but the trajectory of the saws are much harder to predict. They cut into you, stunning you long enough that the swords graze your side.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Fire")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Metal")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)As soon as you open your tome, three sawblades fall to the floor as numerous swords are tossed into the air. When the arsenal of carved metal weapons is sent at Timo, a red-hot spot in the middle of the library's magic circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat your attack out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. With liquid flame on their blades they sear through Timo's second magic circle.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)As soon as you open your tome, three sawblades fall to the floor as numerous swords are tossed into the air. When the arsenal of carved metal weapons is sent at Timo, a red-hot spot in the middle of the library's magic circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat your attack out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. With liquid flame on their blades they sear through Timo's outermost magic circle.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Ice")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Even just the turning of the pages in your tome spills snow and icy shards in great quantities, which quickly gather into clusters that look like flowers. The petals they shed, numerous though they are, are quickly snatched out of the air by pillars of fire that thrash like tentacles. The more they consume, the bigger and wilder they become. When they smash right through the flowers themselves, the tentacle-like flames slam down on you with great and scorching force.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his sawblades and swords cut through it, like hot knives through butter. Dashing to the side you manage to evade his straight shot sword volley, but the trajectory of the saws are much harder to predict. They cut into you, stunning you long enough that the swords graze your side.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Ice")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Fire")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)The turning of the pages in your tome makes it seem like that gentle motion extinguishes the small orb of flame it creates. Bendy pillars of flame erupt from the center of the library's magic circle however, swatting at the icy petals shed from Timo's frost flowers. With each petal absorbed they become larger and wilder, until they smash straight through the flowers themselves. Now massive, their combined weight easily smashes through Timo's second magic circle, but not his third.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)The turning of the pages in your tome makes it seem like that gentle motion extinguishes the small orb of flame it creates. Bendy pillars of flame erupt from the center of the library's magic circle however, swatting at the icy petals shed from Timo's frost flowers. With each petal absorbed they become larger and wilder, until they smash straight through the flowers themselves. Now massive, their combined weight easily smashes through Timo's outermost magic circle, but not his second.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Wind")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Your tome practically flings itself open with the force of your wind blast, your eyes tracing its trail rather than the projectile itself. Looking over at Timo, you realize that your wind ball is meeting extreme resistance just from the aura of his frost flowers, so much so that it turns into a tornado without hitting anything. Even the tornado slows before long, and the petals start redirecting it. The slow-moving tornado spits out a spray of ice petals which crash right into you.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his icy petals smother it, his frost flowers spitting many more afterward. The cold is intense, the chill seeping into your bones even before they get very close. Although the petals are slow, they seep heat from you so easily that your body weakens.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Wind")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Ice")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 2)Your tome opens slowly, spraying a gentle but numerous swathe of ice and snow into the air. The concentration of frost forms so gently it is easy to see what goes into each icy flower, a sharp contrast to Timo's speedy wind blast. Despite its speed the wind struggles greatly against the cold, slowing down and creating a tornado prematurely, which only ends up getting slowed itself. Your flowers shed petals which are then shot from the tornado, wearing down Timo's second magic circle.]
(else:)[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Your tome opens slowly, spraying a gentle but numerous swathe of ice and snow into the air. The concentration of frost forms so gently it is easy to see what goes into each icy flower, a sharp contrast to Timo's speedy wind blast. Despite its speed the wind struggles greatly against the cold, slowing down and creating a tornado prematurely, which only ends up getting slowed itself. Your flowers shed petals which are then shot from the tornado, wearing down Timo's outermost magic circle.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Earth")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Wrapped tightly in vines, your rocky spear takes a while to leave the confines of its tome as Timo's ridiculously speedy blast of wind careens toward it. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado traps you in place as it uses your own spear to batter you.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his wind ball punches through it, leaving a noticeable circular gap before your magic fades. It hits your chest directly, and you can feel intense pressure before a tornado forms around you. You're soon swept into the rotating walls of wind before being spat out onto the wall painfully.]
]}
{(if:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Earth")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Wind")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)In the space of a blink your tome shoots with insane speed, your hair and clothes whipping back. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado envelops Timo, using its own rotation to [[smash through his final defense and smack him over and over again with his own spear.->TimoPhase2]]]
(elseif:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[In the space of a blink your tome shoots with insane speed, your hair and clothes whipping back. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado envelops Timo, using its own rotation to [[smash through his second magic circle, leaving him with just one defense left.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[In the space of a blink your tome shoots with insane speed, your hair and clothes whipping back. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado envelops Timo, using its own rotation to [[smash through his outermost magic circle->TimoPhase2]], which he uses to block.]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Poison")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A gourd sealed with a bright red stopper rolls onto the floor from the pages of your chosen tome. Rolling of its own accord, it explodes when Timo's spear pierces its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle the spear. Now purple, they immobilize you completely with shots of thick, stinging mud. You try to claw your way out, but the rocky spear does it for you, [[knocking you backward with great force.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his vine-wrapped spear pierces through it. Although it flies high above your head, the vines latch into the floor around you, caging you in with plantlife. Any attempt you could have made to escape is squashed just like you are, as [[the slab of rock falls onto your back.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Poison")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Earth")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)Summoning an object tightly wrapped in vines, they unfurl to reveal an earthen spear. It launches at Timo's gourd, piercing its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle your spear. Now purple, they shoot thick, stinging mud which Timo blocks easily with his final magic circle. The spear however [[pierces right through, its rocky side slamming right into Timo->TimoPhase2]], barely missing his round glasses.]
(elseif:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[Summoning an object tightly wrapped in vines, they unfurl to reveal an earthen spear. It launches at Timo's gourd, piercing its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle your spear. Now purple, they shoot thick, stinging mud which Timo blocks easily with his second magic circle. The spear however [[pierces right through, crumbling itself when it hits Timo's third circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[Summoning an object tightly wrapped in vines, they unfurl to reveal an earthen spear. It launches at Timo's gourd, piercing its outer shell. However, instead of radiating out, the poisonous store within is absorbed by the vines that riddle your spear. Now purple, they shoot thick, stinging mud which Timo blocks easily with his first magic circle. The spear however [[pierces right through, crumbling itself when it hits Timo's second circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Water")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)From your chosen book comes a massive bubble, so delicate-looking but not popping despite the rushing rapids circling around it. The much smaller gourd that it approaches is easily swept up into the bubble. However, as soon as the gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, [[lashing you with liquid that sticks and stings in your clothing.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his black and red gourd rolls through it. It lands at your feet before exploding violently, glazed shards making [[minor wounds that become much worse as the purple, green and yellow mixture inside makes its way into your system.->TimoPhase2]] Your body feels so much heavier from that.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Water")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Poison")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)From your chosen book comes a black glazed gourd with a bright red stopper. Your small attack is immediately taken into Timo's much bigger bubble, surrounded by rushing water. However, as soon as your gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, breaking through Timo's final circle and [[lashing him with multicolored sprays.->TimoPhase2]]]
(elseif:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[From your chosen book comes a black glazed gourd with a bright red stopper. Your small attack is immediately taken into Timo's much bigger bubble, surrounded by rushing water. However, as soon as your gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, [[breaking through Timo's second circle with spraying lashes but disappearing at his third.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[From your chosen book comes a black glazed gourd with a bright red stopper. Your small attack is immediately taken into Timo's much bigger bubble, surrounded by rushing water. However, as soon as your gourd shatters, the mixture inside dyes the bubble purple, green and yellow in mere seconds. The rapids are next, raising from the bubble like arms. They spin at great speed, [[breaking through Timo's outermost circle with spraying lashes but disappearing at his second.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Metal")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Three wickedly sharp sawblades fall to the floor, spinning deep gouges into the library floor as several swords are tossed into the air. The collection of metal instruments shoots straight into Timo's bubble, but despite all their jagged edges they fail to pop the bubble. They dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on you, so numerous that [you can't possibly dodge.->TimoPhase2]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease the rapids surrounding his bubble deflects it. Its rapids move like arms that reach out to scoop you backward and you're tossed into the bubble before long. Once inside, the rapid squeeze the bubble inward until the whole thing pops, [[leaving you sputtering and bruised on the floor.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Metal")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Water")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)One massive bubble floats from the pages into the air, surrounded by two rapids that constantly circle the bubble. It fails to pop even as Timo tosses a swathe of sawblades and swords at it, simply bending before swallowing them. The weapons dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on Timo, its combined power [[smashing through his third magic circle and into your opponent.->TimoPhase2]]]
(elseif:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[One massive bubble floats from the pages into the air, surrounded by two rapids that constantly circle the bubble. It fails to pop even as Timo tosses a swathe of sawblades and swords at it, simply bending before swallowing them. The weapons dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on Timo, its combined power [[smashing through his second magic circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[One massive bubble floats from the pages into the air, surrounded by two rapids that constantly circle the bubble. It fails to pop even as Timo tosses a swathe of sawblades and swords at it, simply bending before swallowing them. The weapons dissolve in the water inside, turning the bubble silver. The metal-water mixture forms an even larger arsenal that rains down on Timo, its combined power [[smashing through his outermost magic circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Fire")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)As soon as you open your tome, an orb of pure flame forms for just a second before it disappears completely. Soon however, the center of the magic circle becomes red hot. As Timo sends an arsenal of weapons carved of metal at you, the circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat the weapons out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. [[The drops of liquid flame on their blades make your wounds worse when they inflict them.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his sawblades and swords cut through it, like hot knives through butter. Dashing to the side you manage to evade his straight shot sword volley, but the trajectory of the saws are much harder to predict. They [[cut into you->TimoPhase2]], stunning you long enough that the swords graze your side.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Fire")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Metal")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)As soon as you open your tome, three sawblades fall to the floor as numerous swords are tossed into the air. When the arsenal of carved metal weapons is sent at Timo, a red-hot spot in the middle of the library's magic circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat your attack out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. With liquid flame on their blades they [[sear through Timo's final magic circle, slicing into your opponent.->TimoPhase2]]]
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[As soon as you open your tome, three sawblades fall to the floor as numerous swords are tossed into the air. When the arsenal of carved metal weapons is sent at Timo, a red-hot spot in the middle of the library's magic circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat your attack out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. With liquid flame on their blades they [[sear through Timo's second magic circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[As soon as you open your tome, three sawblades fall to the floor as numerous swords are tossed into the air. When the arsenal of carved metal weapons is sent at Timo, a red-hot spot in the middle of the library's magic circle sprouts bendy pillars of flame that thrash like tentacles as they attempt to swat your attack out of the air. However, the heated weapons only fly faster. With liquid flame on their blades they [[sear through Timo's outermost magic circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Ice")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Even just the turning of the pages in your tome spills snow and icy shards in great quantities, which quickly gather into clusters that look like flowers. The petals they shed, numerous though they are, are quickly snatched out of the air by pillars of fire that thrash like tentacles. The more they consume, the bigger and wilder they become. When they smash right through the flowers themselves, [[the tentacle-like flames slam down on you with great and scorching force.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his sawblades and swords cut through it, like hot knives through butter. Dashing to the side you manage to evade his straight shot sword volley, but the trajectory of the saws are much harder to predict. [[They cut into you, stunning you long enough that the swords graze your side.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Ice")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Fire")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)The turning of the pages in your tome makes it seem like that gentle motion extinguishes the small orb of flame it creates. Bendy pillars of flame erupt from the center of the library's magic circle however, swatting at the icy petals shed from Timo's frost flowers. With each petal absorbed they become larger and wilder, until they smash straight through the flowers themselves. Now massive, their combined weight easily smashes through Timo's third magic circle before [[burning the small mage.->TimoPhase2]]]
(elseif:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[The turning of the pages in your tome makes it seem like that gentle motion extinguishes the small orb of flame it creates. Bendy pillars of flame erupt from the center of the library's magic circle however, swatting at the icy petals shed from Timo's frost flowers. With each petal absorbed they become larger and wilder, until they smash straight through the flowers themselves. Now massive, their combined weight easily [[smashes through Timo's second magic circle, but not his third.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[The turning of the pages in your tome makes it seem like that gentle motion extinguishes the small orb of flame it creates. Bendy pillars of flame erupt from the center of the library's magic circle however, swatting at the icy petals shed from Timo's frost flowers. With each petal absorbed they become larger and wilder, until they smash straight through the flowers themselves. Now massive, their combined weight easily [[smashes through Timo's outermost magic circle, but not his second.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Wind")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Your tome practically flings itself open with the force of your wind blast, your eyes tracing its trail rather than the projectile itself. Looking over at Timo, you realize that your wind ball is meeting extreme resistance just from the aura of his frost flowers, so much so that it turns into a tornado without hitting anything. Even the tornado slows before long, and the petals start redirecting it. The slow-moving tornado spits out [[a spray of ice petals which crash right into you.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his icy petals smother it, his frost flowers spitting many more afterward. The cold is intense, the chill seeping into your bones even before they get very close. Although the petals are slow, [[they seep heat from you so easily that your body weakens.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 3rd is "Wind")[
(if:$playerAttack3 is "Ice")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 2)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)Your tome opens slowly, spraying a gentle but numerous swathe of ice and snow into the air. The concentration of frost forms so gently it is easy to see what goes into each icy flower, a sharp contrast to Timo's speedy wind blast. Despite its speed the wind struggles greatly against the cold, slowing down and creating a tornado prematurely, which only ends up getting slowed itself. Your flowers shed petals which are then shot from the tornado, [[crashing through the final defense and into Timo->TimoPhase2]] who hisses from the intense cold.]
(elseif:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[Your tome opens slowly, spraying a gentle but numerous swathe of ice and snow into the air. The concentration of frost forms so gently it is easy to see what goes into each icy flower, a sharp contrast to Timo's speedy wind blast. Despite its speed the wind struggles greatly against the cold, slowing down and creating a tornado prematurely, which only ends up getting slowed itself. Your flowers shed petals which are then shot from the tornado, [[wearing down Timo's second magic circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[Your tome opens slowly, spraying a gentle but numerous swathe of ice and snow into the air. The concentration of frost forms so gently it is easy to see what goes into each icy flower, a sharp contrast to Timo's speedy wind blast. Despite its speed the wind struggles greatly against the cold, slowing down and creating a tornado prematurely, which only ends up getting slowed itself. Your flowers shed petals which are then shot from the tornado, [[wearing down Timo's outermost magic circle.->TimoPhase2]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack3 is "Earth")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Wrapped tightly in vines, your rocky spear takes a while to leave the confines of its tome as Timo's ridiculously speedy blast of wind careens toward it. As if sensing the threat, the vines unwrap from the earthen spear and plant firmly into the walls. The spear turns a light green but holds steady even as wind picks up around it- until a tornado forms, ripping the vines out of their holds. The tornado traps you in place as [[it uses your own spear to batter you.->TimoPhase2]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)In a battle of neutral elements, there is only one victor: Timo, whose magic power is unleashed in full. Your attack may as well have been a weak element with the ease his wind ball punches through it, leaving a noticeable circular gap before your magic fades. It hits your chest directly, and you can feel intense pressure before a tornado forms around you. You're soon [[swept into the rotating walls of wind before being spat out onto the wall painfully.->TimoPhase2]]]
]}(set: $timoMagic to (a:))
(set: $timoAttack to (a:))
(set: $timoElement1 to "")
(set: $timoElement2 to "")
(set: $timoElement3 to "")
(set: $playerAttack1 to "")
(set: $playerAttack2 to "")
(set: $playerAttack3 to "")
(set: $repeatCheck to false)
(set: $timoDamageCheck to 0)
(goto:"TimoElement")(set: $timoMagic to
(a: "Earth", "Poison", "Water", "Metal", "Fire", "Ice", "Wind")
)
(set:$timoElement1 to (either:...$timoMagic))
(if:$timoElement1 is "Earth")[(put:$timoMagic's 1st into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 1st to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Poison")[(put:$timoMagic's 2nd into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 2nd to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Water")[(put:$timoMagic's 3rd into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 3rd to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Metal")[(put:$timoMagic's 4th into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 4th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Fire")[(put:$timoMagic's 5th into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 5th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Ice")[(put:$timoMagic's 6th into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 6th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Wind")[(put:$timoMagic's 7th into $timoAttack's 1st)(set:$timoMagic's 7th to "Replace")]
(set:$timoElement2 to (either:...$timoMagic))
(if:$timoElement2 is "Replace")[(set:$repeatCheck to true)]
(if:$repeatCheck is true)[
(for: each _item, ...$timoMagic)
[(unless: _item is "Replace")
[(set:$timoElement2 to _item)(set:$repeatCheck to false)]
]
(if:$timoElement2 is "Earth")[(put:$timoMagic's 1st into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 1st to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Poison")[(put:$timoMagic's 2nd into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 2nd to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Water")[(put:$timoMagic's 3rd into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 3rd to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Metal")[(put:$timoMagic's 4th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 4th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Fire")[(put:$timoMagic's 5th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 5th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Ice")[(put:$timoMagic's 6th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 6th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Wind")[(put:$timoMagic's 7th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 7th to "Replace")]
]
(else:)[
(if:$timoElement2 is "Earth")[(put:$timoMagic's 1st into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 1st to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Poison")[(put:$timoMagic's 2nd into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 2nd to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Water")[(put:$timoMagic's 3rd into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 3rd to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Metal")[(put:$timoMagic's 4th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 4th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Fire")[(put:$timoMagic's 5th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 5th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Ice")[(put:$timoMagic's 6th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 6th to "Replace")]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Wind")[(put:$timoMagic's 7th into $timoAttack's 2nd)(set:$timoMagic's 7th to "Replace")]
]
(if:$timoPhase is 2)
[
(set:$timoElement3 to (either:...$timoMagic))
(if:$timoElement3 is "Replace")[(set:$repeatCheck to true)]
(if:$repeatCheck is true)[
(for: each _item, ...$timoMagic)
[(unless: _item is "Replace")
[(set:$timoElement3 to _item)(set:$repeatCheck to false)]
]
(if:$timoElement3 is "Earth")[(put:$timoMagic's 1st into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Poison")[(put:$timoMagic's 2nd into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Water")[(put:$timoMagic's 3rd into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Metal")[(put:$timoMagic's 4th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Fire")[(put:$timoMagic's 5th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Ice")[(put:$timoMagic's 6th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Wind")[(put:$timoMagic's 7th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
]
(else:)[
(if:$timoElement3 is "Earth")[(put:$timoMagic's 1st into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Poison")[(put:$timoMagic's 2nd into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Water")[(put:$timoMagic's 3rd into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Metal")[(put:$timoMagic's 4th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Fire")[(put:$timoMagic's 5th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Ice")[(put:$timoMagic's 6th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Wind")[(put:$timoMagic's 7th into $timoAttack's 3rd)]
]
(goto:"TimoAttack2")
]
(goto:"TimoAttack1"){(if:$timoAttack's 1st is "Earth")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Wind")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Wickedly fast, the only hint that your attack fired is the trail of white that it leaves. Timo had barely casted his earthen spear when it stops in place, turning a light shade of green. Surrounded by a swirl of wind now, it completely reverses direction and heads toward Timo. He throws up a quick magic barrier, which only barely manages to stave off your counterattack.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Poison")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)The ball of purple gunk your book shoots out meets Timo's rocky spear. Instead of piercing straight through, the spear simply absorbs your ball. Several dull thuds come from inside the earthen weapon- you assume that it's your attack exploding, but the spear only grows and turns purple. You move to dodge, but a sudden shot of purple mud immobilizes your legs. Moving at the last second you avoid total loss, but the wound on your side is still painfully bad on top of refusing to heal.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and his earthen spear both thickens and sharpens dramatically. It pierces through your attack, the debris thankfully not skewering you but pelting you painfully all the same.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Poison")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Earth")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)The rocky spear your book creates meets Timo's newly-formed ball of purple gunk. Instead of piercing straight through, your spear simply absorbs the ball. Several dull thuds come from inside the earthen weapon- you assume that it's Timo's attack exploding, but your spear, now-purple, has only grown in size. It continues on its path toward Timo, who only barely manages to block it using a barrier.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Water")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A large and imposing bubble spawns from your book, which immediately homes in on Timo's opposing ball of purple gunk. At first it seems like you're the victor, as the bubble traps the ball inside, but the once clear water inside is quickly dyed purple. By the time you realize the bubble has started homing in on you it explodes in your face, catching you in a torrent of stinging liquid.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and his purple blob simply forces its way through your attack. Although weakened from doing so, it still drops to your feet and explodes, searing liquid catching you even as you try to jump away.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Water")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Poison")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)A tiny purple ball of gunk spawns from your book, which is almost immediately dwarfed and caught by Timo's massive bubble. At first it seems like he's neutralized your attack as the bubble traps the ball inside, but the bubble and water inside it are quickly dyed purple. A torrent of stinging liquid rushes toward Timo as the bubble reverses direction, which he barely stops using a magic barrier.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Metal")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Spinning wheels of metal drop from your book, scoring the floor with its bladed teeth before launching straight at Timo's newly summoned bubble. The teeth easily pop the bubble, but instead of falling straight to the floor, the released water sticks to your sawblades. Silver color turns to black and brown, the color of corrosion quickly spreading to the water. You're wounded badly by your own blades, empowered by rushing water.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and his bubble splits in half. Before you can dodge it, the bubble halves burst and two different rushes of water slam into you. You're not swept off your feet, but your chest stings fiercely.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Metal")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Water")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)A gently floating bubble forms from your book, looking almost pathetically frail compared to Timo's spinning sawblades. When they meet the bladed teeth easily pop your bubble, but instead of falling straight to the floor, the released water sticks to metal. The once-grey blades turn black and brown first, followed by the water, before launching at great speed to Timo. The teeth dig into his barrier, but it holds firm.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Fire")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A glowing orb of pure flame forms between the pages of your chosen tome, growing as Timo sends two sawblades at you. It whips toward them, but the blades do not slow in the slightest- in fact, burning hot, they spin even faster. The white-hot metal merely grazes you, but the intense heat results in an almost obscenely clean cut, a particularly bad wound.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and his sawblades spin rapidly. Tearing their way through your attack, the blades inflict deep cuts on you despite their lower speed and power.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Fire")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Metal")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Two sawblades of gleaming metal drop to the floor, already spinning wildly when they meet Timo's whip of flame. Although powerful, your blades do not slow in the slightest when surrounded by the magical flames- in fact, burning hot, they spin even faster. The white-hot metal crashes into Timo's quick magic barrier, which only barely staves off the bladed teeth.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Ice")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Just like earlier you duck behind a book and watch a spray of myriad, glittering shards dropping temperature be swallowed by an orb of fire. However, as the orb swells in size quickly, you realize you're on the opposite end and turn to flee. You barely turn when the empowered lash bears down on you with great speed, searing a rough line down on your back.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and his fiery lash roars with renewed brightness. It burns right through your attack, and although the fire has weakened considerably in doing so, the flame still hurts intensely.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Ice")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Fire")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Just like earlier you duck behind the book labeled 'Comet', and although Timo tsks his magic goes too fast for him to recall. The myriad shards are pulled in greedily by your orb of flame, which quickly swells in size. The boost is enough that your fiery whip cracks with remarkable speed, forcing Timo to throw up a barrier which barely holds until the fire fades.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Wind")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)The insane speed of your chosen tome is such that you have to trace its trail of white particles rather than the attack itself. However, when your eyes land on a slow moving swirl of ice shards you realize where it went. More and more shards join the rotation until all of the shards are concentrated in one point. Then, without warning, it crashes into you before you can react. By the time it fades, you're covered in cuts.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and adds even more shards to his sweep, which swarm and overwhelm your attack. Neutralizing your attack weakens them, but the small cuts they inflict on you are no less painful.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 1st is "Wind")[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "Ice")[(set:$timoDamageCheck to 1)Sprinkling glittering shards of ice into the air, the temperature around you drops quickly as they drift lazily. Timo's wind blast on the other hand is so fast that you can only see its trail, at least until your icy cloud starts swirling. More and more shards join the slow rotation until, without warning, all of it shoots toward Timo at top speed. His quick barrier barely weathers the storm.]
(elseif:$playerAttack1 is "Earth")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2) Your chosen tome barely casts your earthen spear when Timo's wickedly fast attack is visible only by the trail of white that it leaves. Your spear turns a light shade of green and becomes surrounded by strong currents of wind. It completely reverses direction and heads toward you, the strong winds preventing your escape as the rock slams into you. Although not skewered, you're still battered badly.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)Your magical attack meets his, and for a moment they are at complete standstill. Under normal circumstances, two mages using the same series of tomes would be equal. However, Timo's inexhaustible mana reserves kick in and his already ridiculously fast burst of wind speeds up. It speeds right through your attack and slams into your chest, weaker, but still damn painful.]
]}
{(if:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Earth")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Wind")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)Wickedly fast, the only hint that your attack fired is the trail of white that it leaves. Timo had barely casted his earthen spear when it stops in place, turning a light shade of green. Surrounded by a swirl of wind now, it completely reverses direction and heads toward Timo. He throws up a quick magic barrier, but [[the blast slams right through->TimoPhase1]]. "Oof!" Timo says as he spins dangerously, righting himself before he can crash.]
(else:)[Wickedly fast, the only hint that your attack fired is the trail of white that it leaves. Timo had barely casted his earthen spear when it stops in place, turning a light shade of green. Surrounded by a swirl of wind now, it completely reverses direction and heads toward Timo. He throws up a quick magic barrier, which only [[barely manages to stave off your counterattack.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Poison")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)The ball of purple gunk your book shoots out meets Timo's rocky spear. Instead of piercing straight through, the spear simply absorbs your ball. Several dull thuds come from inside the earthen weapon- you assume that it's your attack exploding, but the spear only grows and turns purple. You move to dodge, but a sudden shot of purple mud immobilizes your legs. Moving at the last second you avoid total loss, but [[the wound on your side is still painfully bad->TimoPhase1]] on top of refusing to heal.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and pushes his earthen spear further, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. It pierces right through your attack and almost skewers you, thankfully only [[wounding your side->TimoPhase1]] as it passes by.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Poison")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Earth")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)The rocky spear your book creates meets Timo's newly-formed ball of purple gunk. Instead of piercing straight through, your spear simply absorbs the ball. Several dull thuds come from inside the earthen weapon- you assume that it's Timo's attack exploding, but your spear, now-purple, has only grown in size. It continues on its path toward Timo, [[piercing through his weakened barrier and wounding him.->TimoPhase1]] "Ouch ouch ouch! No fair!" The small mage yells.]
(else:)[The rocky spear your book creates meets Timo's newly-formed ball of purple gunk. Instead of piercing straight through, your spear simply absorbs the ball. Several dull thuds come from inside the earthen weapon- you assume that it's Timo's attack exploding, but your spear, now-purple, has only grown in size. It continues on its path toward Timo, who only barely manages to [[block it using a barrier.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Water")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A large and imposing bubble spawns from your book, which immediately homes in on Timo's opposing ball of purple gunk. At first it seems like you're the victor, as the bubble traps the ball inside, but the once clear water inside is quickly dyed purple. By the time you realize the bubble has started homing in on you it explodes in your face, [[catching you in a torrent of stinging liquid.->TimoPhase1]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and rolls his ball of gunk further, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. The ball reaches your feet and explodes, [[covering parts of you in stinging purple.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Water")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Poison")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)A tiny purple ball of gunk spawns from your book, which is almost immediately dwarfed and caught by Timo's massive bubble. At first it seems like he's neutralized your attack as the bubble traps the ball inside, but the bubble and water inside it are quickly dyed purple. A torrent of stinging liquid rushes toward Timo as the bubble reverses direction and pops, [[melting through the barrier and reaching Timo.->TimoPhase1]] "Oh, ffff- keep it off my robes!" The mage complains, wriggling uncomfortably.]
(else:)[A tiny purple ball of gunk spawns from your book, which is almost immediately dwarfed and caught by Timo's massive bubble. At first it seems like he's neutralized your attack as the bubble traps the ball inside, but the bubble and water inside it are quickly dyed purple. A torrent of stinging liquid rushes toward Timo as the bubble reverses direction, which he [[barely stops using a magic barrier.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Metal")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Spinning wheels of metal drop from your book, scoring the floor with its bladed teeth before launching straight at Timo's newly summoned bubble. The teeth easily pop the bubble, but instead of falling straight to the floor, the released water sticks to your sawblades. Silver color turns to black and brown, the color of corrosion quickly spreading to the water. You're [[wounded badly->TimoPhase1]] by your own blades, empowered by rushing water.]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and splits his bubble, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. The two halves cut you off, [[catching you with a crushing torrent.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Metal")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Water")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)A gently floating bubble forms from your book, looking almost pathetically frail compared to Timo's spinning sawblades. When they meet the bladed teeth easily pop your bubble, but instead of falling straight to the floor, the released water sticks to metal. The once-grey blades turn black and brown first, followed by the water, before launching at great speed to Timo. The teeth dig into his weakened barrier, [[shredding through it and reaching Timo.->TimoPhase1]] "Eek!" Timo says as he looks at his jagged wound.]
(else:)[A gently floating bubble forms from your book, looking almost pathetically frail compared to Timo's spinning sawblades. When they meet the bladed teeth easily pop your bubble, but instead of falling straight to the floor, the released water sticks to metal. The once-grey blades turn black and brown first, followed by the water, before launching at great speed to Timo. The teeth dig into his barrier, but [[it holds firm.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Fire")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)A glowing orb of pure flame forms between the pages of your chosen tome, growing as Timo sends two sawblades at you. It whips toward them, but the blades do not slow in the slightest- in fact, burning hot, they spin even faster. The white-hot metal merely grazes you, but the intense heat results in [[an almost obscenely clean cut, a particularly bad wound.->TimoPhase1]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and pushes his earthen spear further, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. It pierces right through your attack and almost skewers you, thankfully only [[wounding your side->TimoPhase1]] as it passes by.]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Fire")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Metal")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)Two sawblades of gleaming metal drop to the floor, already spinning wildly when they meet Timo's whip of flame. Although powerful, your blades do not slow in the slightest when surrounded by the magical flames- in fact, burning hot, they spin even faster. The white-hot metal [[slices right through Timo's weakened barrier before catching him.->TimoPhase1]] Although small, Timo goes "Ah- Ah!" at the clean wound you inflicted.]
(else:)[Two sawblades of gleaming metal drop to the floor, already spinning wildly when they meet Timo's whip of flame. Although powerful, your blades do not slow in the slightest when surrounded by the magical flames- in fact, burning hot, they spin even faster. The white-hot metal crashes into quick Timo's magic barrier, which only [[barely staves off the bladed teeth.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Ice")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Just like earlier you duck behind a book and watch a spray of myriad, glittering shards dropping temperature be swallowed by an orb of fire. However, as the orb swells in size quickly, you realize you're on the opposite end and turn to flee. You barely turn when the empowered lash bears down on you with great speed, [[searing a rough line down on your back.->TimoPhase1]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and forces his fiery lash down further, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. It slices right through your attack and [[burns a jagged line across your body.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Ice")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Fire")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)Just like earlier you duck behind the book labeled 'Comet', and although Timo tsks his magic goes too fast for him to recall. The myriad shards are pulled in greedily by your orb of flame, which quickly swells in size. The boost is enough that your fiery whip cracks with remarkable speed, [[cleaving right through Timo's hasty magic barrier->TimoPhase1]]. "Ow ow ow ow!" Timo yells as he extinguishes an ember on his cloak.]
(else:)[Just like earlier you duck behind the book labeled 'Comet', and although Timo tsks his magic goes too fast for him to recall. The myriad shards are pulled in greedily by your orb of flame, which quickly swells in size. The boost is enough that your fiery whip cracks with remarkable speed, forcing Timo to throw up a barrier which [[barely holds until the fire fades.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Wind")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)The insane speed of your chosen tome is such that you have to trace its trail of white particles rather than the attack itself. However, when your eyes land on a slow moving swirl of ice shards you realize where it went. More and more shards join the rotation until all of the shards are concentrated in one point. Then, without warning, it crashes into you before you can react. By the time it fades, [[you're covered in cuts.->TimoPhase1]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and adds more icy shards to his sweep, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. It consumes your attack and surrounds you regardless of where you turn, [[covering you in cuts.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$timoAttack's 2nd is "Wind")[
(if:$playerAttack2 is "Ice")[
(if:$timoDamageCheck is 1)[(set:$timoHealth to $timoHealth-1)Sprinkling glittering shards of ice into the air, the temperature around you drops quickly as they drift lazily. Timo's wind blast on the other hand is so fast that you can only see its trail, at least until your icy cloud starts swirling. More and more shards join the slow rotation until, without warning, all of it shoots toward Timo at top speed. [[His quick barrier fails to weather the storm, pelting him with jagged edges.->TimoPhase1]] "Cold! Cold cold cold!" Timo whines, more concerned with the temperature than his wounds.]
(else:)[Sprinkling glittering shards of ice into the air, the temperature around you drops quickly as they drift lazily. Timo's wind blast on the other hand is so fast that you can only see its trail, at least until your icy cloud starts swirling. More and more shards join the slow rotation until, without warning, all of it shoots toward Timo at top speed. [[His quick barrier barely weathers the storm.->TimoPhase1]]]
]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "Earth")[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-2)Your chosen tome barely casts your earthen spear when Timo's wickedly fast attack is visible only by the trail of white that it leaves. Your spear turns a light shade of green and becomes surrounded by strong currents of wind. It completely reverses direction and heads toward you, the strong winds preventing your escape as the rock slams into you. Although not skewered, [[you're still battered badly.->TimoPhase1]]]
(else:)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)The second of both your magical volleys meet, and you watch anxiously as they collide. Timo kicks his reserves into gear and speeds his wind blast further, the thrum of renewed magical energy washing over you. You know already that your attack will fail, so you prepare to dodge, but magic works far too quickly for you to react. It slams right through your attack and [[crashes into your chest->TimoPhase1]], throwing you back with aching bones.]
]}{(if:$timoElement1 is "Earth")[One of the books in their constant orbit flutters open, but the sound of pages turning is quickly swallowed by a torrent of clinks. Spilling from the book, gemstones of all colors fall to the floor. Not only lustrous and vivid, each gemstone is of remarkable size. A copy of the book launches into the air, only adding to the pile of precious stones as it flies. It comes to a stop behind Timo, on his left side.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Poison")[A sizzling sound comes from one of the books as it opens, splashes of some deep purple liquid pooling on the ground. The mysterious liquid constantly churns and bubbles, hissing as smoke rises from it. Despite its apparent potentness, neither the pages it spawns from nor the floor it spills on seems to be affected. Timo makes a copy of the book and sends it into the air, the book coming to rest directly left of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Water")[You can just barely hear the sound of bubbles under the noise of fluttering pages, the gentle sound accompanying the opening of one of the orbiting books. Water runs from the pages, a steady stream of water that lands on the ground gracefully, with little noise aside from that of those seemingly nonexistent bubbles. Even when Timo makes a copy and moves it, it slots in front of and to the left side of him without making a splash.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Metal")[A loud clang draws your attention as several glittering bars drop noisily to the floor. The clanging only continues as the bars drop on top of one another, a myriad of colors ranging anywhere from bronze to silver to gold. On closer inspection you realize that the blocky forms aren't perfectly smooth, but jagged. The noise only gets louder when Timo creates a copy, but you block it out in favor of watching. The book comes to rest directly in front of Timo.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Fire")[Cracking fills the room, and although you are tempted to look down at the floor you instead keep your eyes on the books. It turns out to be a smart idea, as one of the books bursts into a roaring flame. The heat is partnered with even louder and more frequent cracking, but the pages and the ink etched into them remain completely immune. Timo creates a copy of the heated book, launching it into the air in front of and to the right side of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Ice")[The harsh snap of a whip draws your attention, but when you look around there is no flogging tool to be found. What you just heard, you soon realize, is the sound of one of the open books. Slabs fall to the ground accompanied by some cold white powder. More of this powder flutters to the ground as Timo creates a copy for himself, uncaring of the slabs that shatter on the floor as he slots it directly at his right side.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Wind")[A great swishing noise like many pieces of greenery being blown back forces you to look at one of the books. When the pages turn they do so at such force that you're convinced that it's not entirely magic that flips them. As loose papers start flying away and your hair starts moving back, you become confident in your hypothesis. Papers on even the highest of shelves fly along with a copy of the book, which Timo places behind and to the right of him.]}
{(if:$timoElement2 is "Earth")[One of the books in their constant orbit flutters open, but the sound of pages turning is quickly swallowed by a torrent of clinks. Spilling from the book, gemstones of all colors fall to the floor. Not only lustrous and vivid, each gemstone is of remarkable size. A copy of the book launches into the air, only adding to the pile of precious stones as it flies. It comes to a stop in front of Timo, on his left side. With a pushing motion Timo sends his grimoires spinning away from him.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Poison")[A sizzling sound comes from one of the books as it opens, splashes of some deep purple liquid pooling on the ground. The mysterious liquid constantly churns and bubbles, hissing as smoke rises from it. Despite its apparent potentness, neither the pages it spawns from nor the floor it spills on seems to be affected. Timo makes a copy of the book and sends it into the air, the book coming to rest directly left of him. He covers his mouth, sending his grimoires into a spin.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Water")[You can just barely hear the sound of bubbles under the noise of fluttering pages, the gentle sound accompanying the opening of one of the orbiting books. Water runs from the pages, a steady stream of water that lands on the ground gracefully, with little noise aside from that of those seemingly nonexistent bubbles. Even when Timo makes a copy and moves it, it slots in front of and to the left side of him without making a splash. Sticking his arms out, it is only when Timo draws his hands back that his grimoires start spinning.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Metal")[A loud clang draws your attention as several glittering bars drop to the floor. The clanging only continues as the bars drop on top of one another, a myriad of colors ranging anywhere from bronze to silver to gold. On closer inspection you realize that the blocky forms aren't perfectly smooth, but jagged. The noise only gets louder when Timo creates a copy, but you block it out in favor of watching. The book comes to rest directly in front of Timo, but it and the other grimoire are soon sent spinning when he crosses his arms.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Fire")[Cracking fills the room, and although you are tempted to look down at the floor you instead keep your eyes on the books. It turns out to be a smart idea, as one of the books bursts into a roaring flame. The heat is partnered with even louder and more frequent cracking, but the pages and the ink etched into them remain completely immune. Timo creates a copy of the heated book, launching it into the air in front of and to the right side of him. Pointing downward, he sends both of his grimoires into a spin.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Ice")[The harsh snap of a whip draws your attention, but when you look around there is no flogging tool to be found. What you just heard, you soon realize, is the sound of one of the open books. Slabs fall to the ground accompanied by some cold white powder. More of this powder flutters to the ground as Timo creates a copy for himself, uncaring of the slabs that shatter on the floor as he slots it directly at his right side. It and his other grimoire are sent into a spin when Timo spreads both his hands wide.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Wind")[A great swishing noise like many pieces of greenery being blown back forces you to look at one of the books. When the pages turn they do so at such force that you're convinced that it's not entirely magic that flips them. As loose papers start flying away and your hair starts moving back, you become confident in your hypothesis. Papers on even the highest of shelves fly along with a copy of the book, which Timo places behind and to the right of him. Pointing up to the sky with his right hand, the grimoires near him start spinning.]}
Magical attack imminent, you reach for the books. (if:visits is 1)[You know that in order to counter them effectively, ''the order you choose them is important.'']
{(link:"Rhyolite")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Earth")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Earth")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
(link:"Alloy")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Metal")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Metal")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
(link:"Squall")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Wind")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Wind")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
(link:"Estuary")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Water")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Water")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
(link:"Rime")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Ice")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Ice")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
(link:"Nightshade")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Poison")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Poison")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
(link:"Comet")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Fire")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Fire")(goto:"TimoCalc1")]
]
<br>
}{(if:$timoElement1 is "Earth")[Practically a slab of deep brown, craggy soil held together by vines, a single tome opens to the sound of cracking stone, like the prelude to a disastrous landslide. All kinds of soil spill to the floor, everything from fertile loam complete with plantlife to sand and rocks incapable of sustaining life. Timo creates a copy of the earthen grimoire with its own magic circle, slotting it behind and to the left of him as it continues to spew dirt.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Poison")[Hissing fiercely like a snake, a vague, tome-like shape formed from a thick purple sludge opens. The pages inside are perfectly crisp and legible however, although they're quickly blocked from view by drippings from the cover. Viscous, they drop to the floor with loud smacks. Creating a copy of the poisonous grimoire with its own magic circle, Timo places it directly on his left side, leaving a trail of sludge behind as it flies.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Water")[Almost perfectly transparent, the only indication that a tome is there before it opens is a light blue sheen and a moving white spot going around circular shapes, the reflection of light. When the tome opens the pages are completely visible however, letting loose an entire stream of water that somehow barely produces sound. Timo creates a copy of the quiet tome complete with a magic circle, which he places in front and to the left of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Metal")[Two flawless sheets of metal, it is almost impossible to distinguish them as separate, let alone a tome until it opens. The pages inside of them are metallic as well, the silver sheen obvious as they flutter, but they bend with the ease of paper. From them drop single gears at first, but they escalate quickly as it creates entire belts of connected gears. A copy with a magic circle flies toward Timo, who slots it directly in front of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Fire")[Less a defined figure and more a bonfire whose licks of fire occasionally form a book-like shape, the pages inside are consumed in flame but never actually burn. Despite that, choking black smoke rises in great plumes while ash falls to the floor in a steady pile. Timo's copy surrounded by a magic circle makes the temperature flare even higher, the heat so intense that it lingers even when he directs the grimoire to the front and right of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Ice")[Crystalline and glittering, littered with countless snowflakes each with their own unique formation, the tome of frost drops the temperature just by floating. The pages inside are white and powdery, even a gentle motion sending vast quantities of snow into the air. When it collects on the floor, it forms tiny flowers, held up by magic and ice. A magic circle surrounds the copy Timo makes, and when the two snowdrifts meet ice forms and drops to the floor. It settles directly to the right of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement1 is "Wind")[Visible only via negative space, the wind tome is almost impossible to see with the naked eye. It is only by watching the green wisps of wind bend and twist around the corners of the book that you can see the shape, but it's the lettering and the whipping of your hair and clothes that remain a dead giveaway. Timo creates a copy, not only its own field of green wind but its magic circle letting you follow its path. It ends up behind and to the right of him.]}
{(if:$timoElement2 is "Earth")[Practically a slab of deep brown, craggy soil held together by vines, a single tome opens to the sound of cracking stone, like the prelude to a disastrous landslide. All kinds of soil spill to the floor, everything from fertile loam complete with plantlife to sand and rocks incapable of sustaining life. Timo creates a copy of the earthen grimoire, which gains its own magic circle as it passes by his other tome. It slots behind and to the left of him as it continues to spew dirt.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Poison")[Hissing fiercely like a snake, a vague, tome-like shape formed from a thick purple sludge opens. The pages inside are perfectly crisp and legible however, although they're quickly blocked from view by drippings from the cover. Viscous, they drop to the floor with loud smacks. Creating a copy of the poisonous grimoire, Timo has it fly toward his first tome, where it gains a magic circle of its own. He places it directly on his left side, leaving a trail of sludge behind it.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Water")[Almost perfectly transparent, the only indication that a tome is there before it opens is a light blue sheen and a moving white spot going around circular shapes, the reflection of light. When the tome opens the pages are completely visible however, letting loose an entire stream of water that somehow barely produces sound. Timo creates a copy of the quiet tome which gains a magic circle as it passes by the grimoire already floating near him. He places it in front and to the left of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Metal")[Two flawless sheets of metal, it is almost impossible to distinguish them as separate, let alone a tome until it opens. The pages inside of them are metallic as well, the silver sheen obvious as they flutter, but they bend with the ease of paper. From them drop single gears at first, but they escalate quickly as it creates entire belts of connected gears. A copy flies toward Timo before veering toward his first tome, where it gains a magic circle before settling directly in front of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Fire")[Less a defined figure and more a bonfire whose licks of fire occasionally form a book-like shape, the pages inside are consumed in flame but never actually burn. Despite that, choking black smoke rises in great plumes while ash falls to the floor in a steady pile. Timo's copy makes the temperature flare even higher, the heat so intense that it lingers even when he directs the grimoire to his other tome. With a magic circle from passing by, it settles in front and to the right of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Ice")[Crystalline and glittering, littered with countless snowflakes each with their own unique formation, the tome of frost drops the temperature just by floating. The pages inside are white and powdery, even a gentle motion sending vast quantities of snow into the air. When it collects on the floor, it forms tiny flowers, held up by magic and ice. The copy Timo makes leaves a snowdrift in its wake and gains a magic circle as it flies near his first grimoire. It settles directly to the right of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement2 is "Wind")[Visible only via negative space, the wind tome is almost impossible to see with the naked eye. It is only by watching the green wisps of wind bend and twist around the corners of the book that you can see the shape, but it's the lettering and the whipping of your hair and clothes that remain a dead giveaway. Timo creates a copy, its own field of green wind letting you follow its path until a magic circle forms as it passes by Timo's other grimoire. After that, it ends up behind and to the right of him.]}
{(if:$timoElement3 is "Earth")[Practically a slab of deep brown, craggy soil held together by vines, a single tome opens to the sound of cracking stone, like the prelude to a disastrous landslide. All kinds of soil spill to the floor, everything from fertile loam complete with plantlife to sand and rocks incapable of sustaining life. A copy of the earthen grimoire joins its book brethren, gaining a magic circle of its own as it passes by them. It slots behind and to the left of him as it continues to spew dirt.]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Poison")[Hissing fiercely like a snake, a vague, tome-like shape formed from a thick purple sludge opens. The pages inside are perfectly crisp and legible however, although they're quickly blocked from view by drippings from the cover. Viscous, they drop to the floor with loud smacks. A copy of the poisonous grimoire flies toward his other two tomes where it gains a circle just like them. Timo places it directly on his left side, leaving a trail of sludge behind as it flies.]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Water")[Almost perfectly transparent, the only indication that a tome is there before it opens is a light blue sheen and a moving white spot going around circular shapes, the reflection of light. When the tome opens the pages are completely visible however, letting loose an entire stream of water that somehow barely produces sound. Timo creates a copy of the quiet tome which gains a magic circle as it swings by his other two.]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Metal")[Two flawless sheets of metal, it is almost impossible to distinguish them as separate, let alone a tome until it opens. The pages inside of them are metallic as well, the silver sheen obvious as they flutter, but they bend with the ease of paper. From them drop single gears at first, but they escalate quickly as it creates entire belts of connected gears. A copy with a magic circle flies toward Timo before veering toward his other two tomes, where it gains a magic circle before settling directly in front of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Fire")[Less a defined figure and more a bonfire whose licks of fire occasionally form a book-like shape, the pages inside are consumed in flame but never actually burn. Despite that, choking black smoke rises in great plumes while ash falls to the floor in a steady pile. Timo's copy makes the temperature flare even higher, the heat so intense that it lingers even when he directs the grimoire to his other tomes. With a magic circle from passing by, it settles in front and to the right of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Ice")[Crystalline and glittering, littered with countless snowflakes each with their own unique formation, the tome of frost drops the temperature just by floating. The pages inside are white and powdery, even a gentle motion sending vast quantities of snow into the air. When it collects on the floor, it forms tiny flowers, held up by magic and ice. The copy Timo makes leaves a snowdrift in its wake and gains a magic circle as it flies near his other grimoires. It settles directly to the right of him.]
(elseif:$timoElement3 is "Wind")[Visible only via negative space, the wind tome is almost impossible to see with the naked eye. It is only by watching the green wisps of wind bend and twist around the corners of the book that you can see the shape, but it's the lettering and the whipping of your hair and clothes that remain a dead giveaway. Timo creates a copy, its own field of green wind letting you follow its path until a magic circle forms as it passes by Timo's other grimoires. After that, it ends up behind and to the right of him.]}
{(link:"Carbonado")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Earth")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Earth")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Earth")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
(link:"Lodestone")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Metal")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Metal")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Metal")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
(link:"Tramontane")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Wind")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Wind")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Wind")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
(link:"Abyss")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Water")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Water")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Water")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
(link:"Cryoseism")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Ice")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Ice")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Ice")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
(link:"Hemlock")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Poison")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Poison")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Poison")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
(link:"Superbolide")
[
(if:$playerAttack1 is "")[(set:$playerAttack1 to "Fire")]
(elseif:$playerAttack2 is "")[(set:$playerAttack2 to "Fire")]
(else:)[(set:$playerAttack3 to "Fire")(goto:"TimoCalc2")]
]
<br>
}Floating high above you, surrounded by three potent magic circles, is the Carefree, Disastrous Wizard, Timo Feysepp.
Latent magical energy smothers the room, not only making it hard to breathe but pressing down on you from all sides, a light and constant sting that refuses to fade. Beneath Timo several magical tomes float in a slow horizontal ring, each and every one of them now a clear representative for their element. Their new names tell of higher powers, an entirely different league of spells than their predecessors.
{(if:$timoHealth is 8)[Lit from behind by his magic circles, Timo is bathed in purple, red and orange, the colors of the setting sun. His eyes burn brightly, unspeakable magical power behind them as it refuses to dim. You may have redirected Timo's magic at him before, but it is clear from the ease at which he floats that you've only just begun.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 7)[Completely defiant in his stance, the numerous elements that have battered him thus far simply fall away in the brilliance of his magical circles. If you look closely enough, you think you can see his wounds knitting together slowly- healing magic, although slight, allows him to shrug off attacks like no other.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 6)[Your constant onslaught is finally getting ahead of Timo's healing magic, the remnants of your magical attacks counteracting it. The wounds he received are finally starting to matter, which only heightens Timo's drive and focus. You can vaguely smell citrus.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 5)[Giving up on his healing completely, Timo instead redirects all of his energy toward his attacks. His eyes, magic circles, even his motions in the air practically crackle with the new influx of magic. The smell of citrus spreads powerfully through the entire library.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 4)[The battle has clearly taken its toll on Timo, the once steady footing he had in the air now as shaky as anyone else's. Just because his feet aren't as steady doesn't mean that he is any less devastating however, as every time it looks like he'll stumble, he rights himself with strong gusts of wind.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 3)[Even from this distance you can see Timo breathing hard, untold amounts of energy having been spent and currently spending as he uses more wind magic to keep himself afloat. He holds his side, groaning softly. On rare occasions his magic circles even flicker, and sometimes you see them grow brighter afterward as Timo tries to compensate.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 2)[Careening to and fro, Timo only barely manages to miss crashing into what few shelves remain from your fierce battle. The flickering of his magic circles has gotten worse, and at some points you're convinced that they've gone out completely. However, they always return, driven on by Timo's remaining strength. He refuses to fall.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 1)[Timo's position in the air is dangerously unsteady, his pain-riddled face and labored breathing only cementing his place on the brink of defeat. Even with his erratic flight and the magic circles behind him on the verge of fading, Timo's eyes shine the brightest they have so far. Like a star on the verge of burning out, he fully intends to burn you down before he falls.]
(elseif:$timoHealth is 0)[(goto:"TimoFinisher")]}
{(if:$playerHealth is 7)[Having avoided every single one of Timo's attacks, your achievement is marred only by the sting on your skin and the knowledge that Timo could reverse the situation at any moment. That doesn't mean you aren't proud however, and the mental strength you gain from that allows you to push your body farther, ignoring the effects of the field.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 6)[Having come out better than worse from the last bout of fighting, you face Timo down with confidence. Although the bite of magic still persists on your skin, the faint traces of pain only serve as a reminder to focus your wits. There is a pattern to Timo's attacks that you've already exploited- you just need to continue doing so.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 5)[Starting to even out the score, Timo's empowered attacks break through any illusion of safety. The pain you experience is very real, not only radiating out from where you actually got hit but reaching in deeper. Your blood feels like it's starting to burn just a little, even past the thrum of adrenaline.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 4)[The ache you feel goes down to your very core, and as you take a deep, shaky breath, you realize that your entire body feels like it's burning. You know that everyone has latent magical reserves, even those not magically gifted, and using these tomes seems to have started burning yours.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 3)[The toll the tomes are taking on your body gets worse by the second, but as you brush elemental particles off your clothes you know that you have no choice. While you can't keep this going on forever, you still have enough energy to fight- and you need to, unless you want to be crushed by the most gifted mage in the world.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[Your entire body throbs in one big wave of pain, both kinds of energy sapping from your body at alarming rates. While you're sure that you can tough through the constant burn, any direct hits from here on out will bring you to the brink of defeat. Holding your head as high as you can, you grit your teeth and prepare for the next attack.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[Having exhausted not only your physical energy but the latent magical reserves of your body, every step you take feels like the hardest feat of your life. It is only by sheer force of will that you keep going, burning the last of everything you have to take Timo down once and for all.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 0)[(goto:"TimoBadEnd2")]}
(link:"Continue.")[(goto:"TimoMagicInit")]As you fall to your knees, overwhelmed by Timo's sheer power, you see your opponent doing largely the same. Your brain registers it as an opportune moment to strike, but your desperate attempt to get closer only leads to you eating the floor.
Timo, on the other hand, has no such problem once he's caught his breath. His eyes finally extinguish, their powerful glow replaced with bloodshot red. Timo rubs his eyes free of tears before approaching, watching as you claw at his boot.
"The penalty for attacking the Praecantator unwarranted, according to the Council, is death." Timo sounds uncharacteristically serious, but to be fair, you pushed him further than most. You reckon that this sight is unknown even to some members of the Magic Council. "You're too intriguing a specimen to pass up, however. Not //quite// at my level of skill, but too valuable to just let free. I have an idea."
Once again uncharacteristically albeit now for mages in general, Timo knocks you out with a piece of wood that was ripped from the railings during your fight.
You awake completely nude and pitifully exposed. You try moving, but the compromising situation and the tight ropes around you prevent it. Hands bound behind you, legs raised and tied behind your head, you're presented to a class of senior students as a living dummy. You try speaking, but it's muffled through a gag stuffed into your mouth. All that comes out are pathetic whimpers.
Students watch you with varying degrees of shame, some hiding their face entirely, some sneaking peaks from time to time, and some outright ogling you. The embarrassment runs hot and you try once again to escape, but all that happens is your hole squeezing and cock shifting about.
"Alright class, I'm here!" Timo announces with a cheerful tone as he skips into the classroom. "I'm sure you've already seen our new teaching aid here. Don't worry, I'm sure he enjoys every second of this voluntary work. He did something very naughty, after all."
Timo goes into a detailed discussion about the human anatomy and the magical system that exists within. It would have been an valuable lecture had you not been trussed up as you are, forced to just sit and watch as students make lewd gestures at you. You're sure Timo sees that blond troublemaker at the back licking lewdly between his fingers whenever you look at him, but Timo completely ignores him.
Eventually Timo stretches and starts yawning. "Mmmm, I need some sugar in my system. Tell you what, you guys are free to play with this guy all you want. Just clean up any messes you make, okay? Janitors are already complaining about our regular classes!"
As soon as Timo's out the door all of the male students rise from their seats. The troublemaker makes good on his gestures immediately, running his tongue over your hole. Snickering, others start writing on you. You can't read it at this angle, but you're certain it's quite vulgar from the way the students who haven't stood up react.
While none of the female students show any interest in touching you themselves, they watch with rapt attention as their male classmates play with your body. This makes the humiliation even worse, as instead of a uniform gaze of lust for your features, you see some pitying looks thrown your way. It hurts your pride intensely, especially since you're supposed to be a king.
The real trouble starts when they find your ticklish spots. You try your best to stifle your reaction, but the perceptive mages attack them with all they have, causing you to squirm in your ropes like you're enjoying it. All throughout, the troublemaker keeps tonguing your hole and jerking your dick. It's no wonder that you end up cumming, but the humiliation is all the same.
Timo comes in at the height of your cumming, completely ignoring the white arc that splatters onto the floor. "Okay, back to the lesson."
"Hey teach, can we fuck him?" The troublemaker asks casually.
"Not during class hours!" Timo tuts, wagging his finger. "Be sure to be nice and share during breaks."
It isn't long after Timo dismisses them before the students stuff your hole one after the other, dumping their cum in you. Each time they do, they leave a tally mark. Kept from the negative effects of your position by healing magic, you're stuck forever as a sex toy for senior students. To your despair you hear that the blond troublemaker intends to share you with other classes...
[[Retry.->TimoFight]]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]The last magic blast sends you rolling backward, leaving you sprawled out and groaning with your face on the ground.
Timo clicks his tongue as he floats down, landing directly on your back. "That wasn't very satisfying, to be honest. Then again, it's to be expected from those that can't engage me magically or intellectually."
The calm way he dissects your loss, insulting your battle prowess along the way, irritates you. It irritates you, but you can't find the words to argue back, least of all when he pokes and prods at you with his feet. For someone so small and light, Timo knows exactly what places to press down to rob you of your breath.
"Normally an attempt on my life is a crime punishable by death, but that's waaaay too boring. And bloody too! Unlike Klaus I have no interest in watching heads roll. No, I have a much more useful job for you before I let you go."
Groaning, you begrudgingly accept. After all, the alternative is death. If a single Magic Council member were to hear of what really happened here today, literally no nation would protest to your immediate execution. "Fine. What do you want from me?"
"Being the Praecantator has its perks, but it also makes things extremely awkward. Heck, this thing is awkward by itself! Anyway, all I need with you is about thirty bottles of cum."
You choke- on your spit, the dust of the library around you, the sheer audacity of that suggestion, you don't know. Either way, you reply incredulously. "Thirty bottles!?"
"Ugh, now you're sounding like Klaus. Thank the gods I'm not talking to him, or he'd have a heart attack!" Timo finally hops off your back, letting you roll over. The victorious mage immediately reaches down and yanks down your trousers and braies, leaving your crotch completely exposed.
Although the situation is hardly arousing, Timo strokes you with gusto. Your dick stirs a little, which is apparently not nearly enough for Timo as he soon huffs in annoyance. He pouts at you, and you can only shrug. When you entered this library you didn't imagine you were going to be milked, least of all by the mage you just tried to beat. His annoyed face is kind of helping, though...
With the threat of Timo getting frustrated and just blasting you into oblivion looming over your head, you focus on his face full of concentration. As your fantasies form you imagine him beneath you, all cute and pliable. Even though the thought is //incredibly// hot, and you can practically feel the plush skin beneath your hands as they roam down his sides, something feels off about it. If he were beneath you, he wouldn't be annoyed like this. He'd only be annoyed if-
Your fantasy shifts to Timo in the dominant role, staring down at you with the same eyes. Your cock throbs and hardens, and Timo (real or fantasy, you can't really tell) grips it roughly, punishing you for something or another. Running wild now, your fantasies picture Timo throwing your legs over his shoulders, his small figure still absolutely dominant over yours as he lines his dick up to your hole.
You come, filling up the first of Timo's glass bottles. You come back to reality, watching Timo simply at your side, examining the load like some kind of wine connoisseur by holding it up to the light and swirling it. Timo seems satisfied after a while and starts stroking you again, but soon after throws his hand off and complains.
"This is taking way too long! I already know the basics of the process, I just need the end result!" He sighs. "Guess there's only one thing to do."
Timo strips off his bottom half and slathers his dick with your own load. Just like in your fantasy, he throws your legs over his shoulders, but this time you can really feel him underneath you. More importantly, you can really feel his already rock hard cock prodding at your entrance. You gulp at its massive size. "Maybe you can stre-"
He leans forward, forcing your legs closer to you, and then slams all the way in in one go. You scream, toes curling in both pain and pleasure.
"No time for stretching! I'm a very busy man, and although your hole is really nice tight like this, there's no way I'm getting enough cum without ruining it!"
Time passes by in a blur, the only breaks you receive being when Timo creates another glass bottle for your poor balls to squirt their load into. In between those moments however Timo is tirelessly hammering into your butt, deaf to your pleading that you're too sensitive. In fact he eventually tires of that and, while grinding on your prostate, he says right to your face: "It's easier when you're sensitive."
The only time he stops is after many orgasms, when your pleasure-added brain finally gets a coherent thought together.
"H-Hang on! If I do any more of this today I'll die of dehydration!"
"Mmmm, well, I am feeling a bit thirsty too. Fine. We'll stop for today and continue tomorrow."
You whimper.
---
When you finally leave the Citadel, you can barely walk. Although you've cleaned up completely, you can't scrub the memory of cum leaking from your hole and down your legs. You shiver, your mind involuntarily drifting to the memories of Timo fucking you any and everywhere, holding a bottle right beneath your cock. You're pretty sure a few mages saw some of your exhibitionistic sessions, and the thought both embarrasses you and gets you hard.
Any plans you have for the Citadel and anywhere else, really, fade.
''Game Over.''
[[Retry.->TimoFight]]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]The first few months of training are hell.
You first wake up in Timo's room, next to the small mage. You try to strangle him in his sleep, but as you groan trying to get your heavy limbs to work the way you want to, he wakes up. He easily pushes your reaching arms away from him and tucks your hands underneath your back. You spend all your energy twisting and turning just to get your back off the mattress, breathing ragged breaths as you yank one hand out. Any sense of accomplishment is immediately ruined when Timo pokes your stomach and asks with a cheeky tone:
"What about the other one?"
Eyes burning with tears from several failed attempts afterward, you finally break down and ask Timo for help.
You soon realize that you're permanently weakened. It is only with Timo's help and his permission that you can wander around the Citadel. With nothing left to lose and uncaring of the shame, you immediately try escaping. Your heavy legs can't even make it halfway across the courtyard before your vision blurs and you drop to your knees, exhausted.
"Don't mind him, people, he just drank the wrong draught," Timo announces to passersby, whose concern turns to laughter.
It starts slowly. You tell yourself over and over again that you're only accepting Timo's help so you can use it to escape.
Mellowing out considerably, you start letting Timo move you around without complaint. Sometimes, when you stare longingly at a shelf, he notices and uses wind magic to float it down toward you. It's strangely sweet.
You start warming up to Timo as he keeps doing things before you can even ask him to do so. He learns all your favorite foods, preparing them, even helping you participate once in a while. He learns all of your favorite hobbies, letting you do them with the assistance of wind magic. He learns all about Wevendh, making you feel useful as you recount the tales of the wyvern knights.
Gradually you abandon any plans of escape, not only because of how impossible they are for you to execute, but out of sheer embarrassment. How could you dare to escape when Timo helps you live life normally? Some deep part of you says that it's his fault, but it's quickly swallowed by sweeter memories, scented with citrus.
Out of the blue, as you settle into bed next to Timo, you offer one of the few ways you can pay him back. "Would you like to... sleep with me?"
"Thought you'd never ask... Or, nah, I knew you would ever since I claimed you as my pet."
You end up facedown, ass hiked high in the air as Timo slams into you over and over again. His massive cock, bigger and thicker than your own, widens your hole with every rough thrust. Vaguely your mind tells you that Timo has cemented his dominance over you in just about every way, but the embarrassment that thought causes turns into red-hot thrill that pools in your stomach.
The idea that you were once a wannabe conqueror seems laughable to you now. As he smashes into your prostate, your moans turn increasingly whorish. Timo so fundamentally changed you that there is no hope of escape, fighting back or rising above your station. You give a particularly loud moan around Timo's fingers as he plays with your tongue, the relatively slack muscle trying its best to lick around his digits. You can't even serve him like most people can, and yet he only ever seems interested in you.
Confused feelings of submission, love and lust battle within you. When Timo pulls his dick out of you and thrusts into your mouth, you literally can't do anything as he claims your throat. When he pulls out of your mouth and right back into your ass, whispering that he loves the way you moan, you moan louder for him. When he stills his hips and plays with your dick until you cum, you can't help but beg for more when he thrusts into you even though your fried nerves are drastically overstimulated.
One of these nights you try saying something, but it's completely muffled by Timo's fat dick. Fortunately, he seems to notice as he pulls his hips back. Instead of saying what you want you involuntarily gasp for air of course, since he had it stuffed in there for a few minutes.
"I thought I trained you to have better lung capacity. Oh well, guess I can just use a little bit of wind to-"
"Th-That's not it." You manage to say. "I just wanted to say I'm happy I can be useful to you."
Timo chuckles, all too happy to make use of you. He makes sure to fill your holes at least three times each that night, and continues fucking you every night after that.
It becomes official sometime later, with Timo suggesting that you both get married. He tells you what to do and what to say, and you happily agree. It's the exact same in the bedroom after that- no matter what kink Timo wants to try out, you do it. It makes you useful, after all.
''Game Over.''
[[Retry.->TimoFight]]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]As Timo's magic circles crumble for the final time, he is sent flying backward in a dangerous spiral. Unable to maintain his wind magic at all anymore, he crashes straight into the floor of the library, bouncing painfully a few times before he finally skids to a stop.
Your mind loudly reminds you to make sure that he's down for the count, but as soon as you take a step forward you collapse, falling to your knees. The physical stamina you've relied on for all of your life doesn't matter when you've emptied every bit of magic within you just to withstand Timo's assault.
Clutching at your chest, you can't help but laugh a little. The pain is horrible, but in exchange for the sear, you've snatched victory from the palms of the most powerful mage in the world. For a few moments you just lay there, letting your body slowly repair itself. It's a wonder that, despite the crushing amount of magic in the air, your body has no way of reaching out and taking it. It almost makes you wonder if-
''"Schwarzschild."''
Whipping your head up, you see Timo standing once more. Not only is he in the air again, you can't see any indication of him using wind magic. No, it's like some force is repelling him away from the ground, so perfectly distributed that Timo doesn't even have to adjust it.
You can literally see the space around him distorting as he forcefully sucks in all the magic that had been released into the library. His, yours, the tomes'- it's all pulled by that mysterious, invisible force.
''"Painovoima."''
Sickeningly sweet citrus seems to cake every breath you take, the scent even stronger than it was earlier.
All of that magic is concentrated into a small orb of pure black in front of Timo. Your mind thinks to use the tomes, but they scatter to the walls of the library as if in fear. Despite being tiny, you can see just how hard it pulls at Timo, sheer concentration on his face as he wills the force away from him... and toward you.
If it weren't obvious already, ''you have the feeling that your choice here will decide the fight once and for all.''
{|timoChoice1>[(link:"Run out of the library.")[(hide: ?timoChoice2 + ?timoChoice3)[You don't need to spare a second glance as you turn tail, running at top speed toward the library doors. Having ended up near the middle of the long building, you ignore the burning of your lungs and legs. However, that's not the only thing you feel- your entire being starts being pulled backward. Constantly fighting the pull, your weakened body starts giving out on you. You just barely reach the library doors when you lose your footing and fly backward, into the now-massive orb. [[You have lost.->TimoFinisherFail]]]]]}
{|timoChoice2>[(link:"Try to get behind Timo.")[(hide: ?timoChoice1 + ?timoChoice3)[Against every instinct in your body, you charge forward. Your steps feel incredibly light as you're pulled to the orb, watching nervously as it steadily grows, heading straight for you. Taking full advantage of the increased speed, you ignore some of the pull as you pass below, and then behind the orb. It's when you approach Timo that your steps become truly labored, but you grit your teeth and stubbornly run, run, //run// once again below and then behind your opponent. You hear a gasp and look behind you- Timo has been swallowed by his own attack. [[You have won.->TimoDefeat]]]]]}
{|timoChoice3>[(link:"Retrieve your dagger and throw it at Timo.")[(hide: ?timoChoice1 + ?timoChoice2)[Spotting your dagger once again, you run to the shelf it's so deeply embedded into. You pull at it with all your strength, knowing full well this could be a life and death situation. You toss it high, trying to make it fall directly on Timo while simultaneously avoiding the orb. However, even with your strength and planning, the orb simply grows bigger, making its pull even stronger. It swallows the knife first, and before long, you. [[You have lost.->TimoFinisherFail]]]]]}If you thought the pressure of Timo's earlier attacks was overwhelming, the inside of the orb is a whole different level.
You're robbed of practically every sense except touch as black presses into you on all sides. The darkness is suffocating not only for how thoroughly it blocks out your sight, not even for the way it swallows your screams, making it so that you can't even hear your own desperate cries for help- it's the literal pressure, the weight that crushes into you. Trapped in a painfully slow constriction, you're left to the mercy of Timo's dark embrace.
It feels like ages when you're finally freed, but as you flop onto the floor your body feels a million times heavier. You can move if you really put effort into it, but it feels like you've been chained down permanently. Lifting your heavy head, you look at Timo standing above you.
"I had to pull out all the stops for you," Timo says, voice raspy. "You're a fascinating specimen. No magical talent, and yet you pushed me to the brink. I haven't had a thrill like this in... well, ever. It's a shame that we're never going to have a fight like that again since I gave you a supermassive adjustment, but hey- since I won, I get to decide what you do from now on. Feel pride in becoming my personal pet."
You can't even snarl or protest as [[you black out.->TimoBadEnd3]](set:$fightState to false)Although you can't see exactly what happens in the inky black darkness, you know that whatever it is, it isn't pretty.
It isn't long before the entire thing just disappears. If you hadn't been watching intently, you'd have missed the second the black color popped out of existence, leaving behind the limp body of Timo. You rush over to make sure he's down, and to your relief you can see that he's not dead, just unconscious.
Turning to the railings intending to rip them for their rope, you see that your fight has detached them readily for you. Although some are burnt to a crisp or sliced to ribbons, some are relatively whole and ripe for the taking. You gather up as much as you can, looping the restraints tightly around Timo. As an added safety measure, especially because it seems his most powerful spell is summoned via name, you make sure to put a loop in his mouth. Gagged and hog-tied, Timo is yours for the taking.
As tempting as it is to take your prize here and now, the logical part of your brain reminds you that the library is a public space. Any time spent fucking around may lead to someone visiting the libtary and altering the entire Citadel to the unmistakable battle that happened there.
Looking at Timo's helpless body, you decide to...
[[Announce that you've taken Timo hostage, then barricade the library.->FCHostageBadEnd1]]
[[Take Timo and try to make a break for it.->FCHostageBadEnd2]]
[[Cover Timo up and sneak him off of the Citadel.->FCHostageEnd]]To hell with your nerves. You bring out your dagger and stab down as hard as you can.
Your weapon is blown straight out of your hand instantly. Your fingers sting, battered from the great gust of wind that Timo summoned. His eyes dim from the burst of magic, revealing disappointment and bewilderment in equal measure.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Heart already steeled, you ignore Timo's betrayed expression and lunge at him once more. This time your entire body is sent hurtling backward, but unlike your dagger which came to an inglorious stop in the pages of some now-unreadable encyclopedia, you land squarely on your feet. Probably anticipating a third charge, Timo's hand bursts into flame.
{Keeping yourself well away and steadying yourself further, you reply. "I'm here to take control of the Citadel. (if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[I would have used more diplomatic means, but my hand has been forced. You know how it's like. There's nothing quite like cementing a deal in person, by any means necessary."] (elseif:$playerAgenda is "Aggro")[The shortest path to glory is war and conquest. Fraught with danger though it may be, I am no coward. Everything else is meaningless; the only thing that matters is who wins here and now."](elseif:$playerAgenda is "Seduce")[And, more importantly, you. Courting is troublesome, is it not? If I beat you here and now, we can skip all the hassle and money spent. You'll be mine, on the threat of a blade."](elseif:$playerAgenda is "Brother")[This being the centre of magic, I'm sure if I send the call for my brother he will hear it! I can't wait through the bureacracy of the Council, and you're the only authority they'll listen to."]}
"You're going about it completely wrong," Timo says, his eyes flaring to life once again. You duck out of the way preemptively, but instead of intense heat you feel the wind whipping through your hair once more. Looking upward, you see the short wizard floating high in the air above you. "I can't just let you take the Citadel. It's not only the pride of mages that I protect- it's my own, too. Just because you're the brother of one of my friends doesn't mean you can just... attack me like that! It's so rude!"
Despite his relatively lighthearted words, the entire library shakes lightly as several thick books fly from just about anywhere. You hear crackling, almost like the low hum of electricity, and you barely step back before a massive magic circle activates in the library's floor. The seven books form a perfect horizontal ring above the circle, each perfectly positioned and spaced out from the others. They float lazily by in a clockwise motion.
"I can't let you leave without a bit of punishment." Timo makes good on his threat right afterward, a wave of the hand creating two copies of two different books from the circle. When they join him in the air, a powerful and intricate circle appears behind him. You barely have time to register exactly what he's doing before he makes a pulling motion, and the two books open.
Panic senses working in your favor, you jump just in time to avoid a rock spear, the stalactite-like attack ripping through the back of your traveling garb. Your heart nearly stops when you realize that that wasn't all, staring at a huge bubble coming straight for you. You move to avoid it, but in the corner of your eye you notice it following. Making a split decision, you roll underneath a nearby table.
The bubble is too large to follow you, so it pops. Deceptively clear while it was following you, the water it contained manages to drench you from the sides. If it weren't for the wood above you, you could tell it would have crashed into you with considerable force. Rolling from beneath the table, you see Timo casually making another two copies.
Swearing profusely you run as he throws several elements at you, each successful dodge you make destroying the safe spaces you had earlier. It isn't long before he aims behind you, forcing you forward. Legs carrying you faster than your brain can think, you realize that you've stepped into the center of the ring of books. With absolutely no other cover in sight, you cower behind a random book.
Your life flashes before your eyes as Timo lets out a huge sheet of glittering ice, each glimmering shard doubtlessly sharp.
However, instead of tearing right through the book, it activates. 'Comet', you read as the grimoire opens by itself. A ball of flame forms from between the pages, swelling to a ridiculous size when it absorbs the ice. Suddenly it lashes out in one long streak, the blazing whip almost swatting Timo out of the air.
"You got lucky!" Timo hollers, annoyance clear in his face. He clearly didn't want you to figure that out, but now that you have, you finally have a fighting chance. Looking at the other ones, you quickly determine that they each have names; that will be the key to your victory.
Now that you know what you're doing, (link:"you face Timo's next attack with confidence.")[(set:$fightState to true)(set:$timoPhase to 1)(set:$timoHealth to 7)(set:$playerHealth to 5)(goto:"TimoMagicInit")]Securing Timo to the very center of the room where the magic circle and its tomes used to be, you start moving everything you can to block the front doors. It turns out to be easier than expected, once again thanks to the absolute carnage that your intense battle with Timo made of the library. While some of the shelves are beyond any hope of structural integrity, a surprising number of them remain sturdy enough to be used.
Gathering them up at the sides of the door, you steel yourself for what may very well be the boldest action of your life. Well, second. Attacking the most powerful mage in the world probably takes that spot, and you survived. You throw the doors open and step into the early morning sunlight, yelling at the top of your lungs.
"I, the King of Wevendh, have defeated the Praecantator! He is well within my possession, and I demand the Council gather to hear my demands!"
You dash back in, the ensuing commotion outside making it clear that you were heard. You move all the collected furniture in front of the door just in time, as you hear several loud thuds followed by the whistle of wind. Having placed the furniture with evidence of surviving a variety of elements at the front, even as the novice mages switch up their elements, they fail to break through.
You sit by Timo and [[wait.->FCHostageBadEnd1-2]]Within seconds of your mad dash, you realize that you've made a terrible mistake.
It's not just the fact that your tired body can't exactly function as it normally would, it's the fact that your battle has gone on so long that the the sun has started rising. Although the Citadel has its fair share of night owls (some of the literal kind, given the existence of Diermies), a large amount of students and teachers alike go about their business in the early morning.
Timo is one of the more recognizable faces, especially because nobody else dresses nearly as garishly as he does, or has the same vivid shade of orange for hair.
You don't make it very far before the volley of spells hits your legs, hobbling you. With Timo unconscious and unable to sway them, they kill you with little care. When the Praecantator awakes, he twists the story and you are then on known as a cowardly assassin who ambushed him without a fair fight.
''Game Over.''It's hard work, but you make use of more of the rubble; specifically, what few curtains survived the battle. It's a risky move given the fact that some of them cover windows, and when you see the early morning sun casting light down on early wakers, your heart nearly stops. They're far too busy with their own business to pay attention however, allowing you to dash with the curtains and continue wrapping Timo up.
By the time you finish, you end up with a lumpy pile of cloths that looks nothing like a human which you show off confidently as you move. The mages spare you only a quick glance before continuing their work, some of them carrying much more insane odds and ends than simple fabric. You think you see a sandcastle on a tray in one case.
You reach the teleporter circle in the middle of the courtyard with no trouble. Your mind keeps running through a thousand different scenarios of how this could go wrong as you're enveloped by the bright white light. When you open your eyes however, you see that nothing has happened. You've gotten off scot-free.
Dashing for your carriage, you tell your coachman to rush back to Wevendh at top speed. He does exactly that, and although he has the horses galloping, the distance is great enough that Timo begins to stir. You unwrap him from his curtain prison before addressing him directly.
"Don't even think of trying something. You're enroute to Wevendh, and no one is looking for you. Once they discovered your disappearance, the Magic Council declared you dead and elected another Praecantator."
He hangs his head in defeat, sniffling a little. The treatment he experienced from the Council must have been extremely harsh for him to accept your lie so easily. "They're so mean... it's just like them to get rid of me as soon as I become too troublesome."
You run a hand over his butt, giving him a wicked smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon you. You're going to be my..."
"Newlywed husband."
"Magical advisor."
(link:'"Bondage slave."')[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(set:$timoSex to true)(set:$timoSlave to true)(goto:"FCBondageSlaveEnd")]
"Public use cumdump."Timo's wide eyes fill with tears at the mention of his degrading title, but he nods and hangs his head. "I've lost everything already. You've won."
Seeing his disheartened state, you risk untying him while he's still in the carriage. He simply lets you do so, too sad to even consider the action. Perfect.
When you reach Draenaid and enter your castle with Timo in tow, your general drops his jaw at the sight of him. He doesn't even try to hide the awe with which he regards you as you recount how you countered Timo's magic attacks in the heart of the Citadel. Timo tries hiding behind you in embarrassment, but you tell your slave to present himself and confirm what you say as the truth.
He glumly nods, to which you give his butt a hearty slap. You tell him to wait in the corner and he obeys, allowing you to whisper to your general and spymaster about the little lie you spun to keep him obedient and, more importantly, keep him from burning Wevendh down.
Your general suggests announcing your conquest to the Citadel directly and demanding their immediate surrender, but your spymaster shakes his head fervently. The plan that he weaves is brilliant, so you follow it- the day after. For now, you have your slave to enjoy.
Leaving the plans in the hands of your spymaster, you grab Timo by the arm and drag him to your quarters.
You tear carelessly at his clothes. They're ragged from the fight, and he won't be needing them with his new station in life. The tattered shreds fall to the floor, leaving Timo blushing fiercely, still trying to hang on to his dignity by covering his crotch with his hands. Slapping them away, you see his unexpectedly thick cock. You have to admit that he's bigger than you, but that doesn't mean he has to use it. You're in control, after all.
Undressing yourself, you see Timo interrupt his little moping session to look at you. He's obviously impressed by what he sees, but he says nothing as he clenches his hands at his sides. He's so damn cute you just want to...
(link:"Tie and suspend him from the ceiling so you can fuck him.")[(set:$playerTop to $playerTop+1)(set:$playerDom to $playerDom+1)(goto:"FCSuspendedTie")]
Tie him to the bed so you can ride his cock.
Bring him to your throne room and use him as a footrest.Your smile turns cruel as you pull out a wooden bar complete with hooks and cuffs, two of each on each end of the suspension device.
Timo's natural curiosity as a mage drives him to observe the bar closely despite the obvious nervousness causing his body to shake. You tell him to sit on the floor which causes his shaking to get worse. Kicking his legs apart with your foot, you cuff each ankle. Timo immediately tries testing his feet's range of motion, and to your satisfaction you see that it has very little give.
Using your foot once more, you press down on Timo's back, forcing him to lean forward. When his arms are close enough you start cuffing them too, at which point Timo realizes exactly what position he's going to be stuck in for the foreseeable future. "N-No way! I won't be able to do anything!"
"That's the point," you say with a chuckle. It is a good thing that Timo is light, as attaching the bar to the ceiling proves to be a struggle. If he were any heavier you would have needed help, but when you hear the tell-tale clink you stand back and admire your work.
Legs and arms spread wide to the side, Timo is not only unable to move his limbs in a significant manner, the lack of contact with the ground ensures he is completely and utterly powerless... at least until you see his eyes glowing again.
You smack his ass, interrupting his concentration and forcing him to yelp. "What did I say about trying something?"
He shakes his head fervently. "I-I-I just thought I could steady myself a little better if I used wind-"
Your hand comes down on his jiggling cheek once more, even harder. Timo tries to flail but only succeeds in wiggling his restraints slightly. The metal holds firm, meaning that although Timo swings from side to side, any sense of danger he has is all in his mind. "Slaves follow orders. Unless I tell you to use magic, I don't want a single spell coming out of you. Since you did that I have no choice but to punish you."
Timo opens his mouth to argue, but his words devolve into meaningless yells of pain as you spank him continuously. Like a machine, ignoring the sting in your hand, you bring your hand down on his butt until the freckled and pale flesh becomes red like a tomato. By the time you finish, fat tears fall from Timo's face. "I'm sorry!"
The shaky way his voice comes out, the little futile movements he makes as he sways, they all make you want to bully him more. Unfortunately, there's no reason for you to punish him further, so you nod curtly. "That's more like it, slave."
Turning around, you reach for the tincture on your dresser. The purple liquid gives you vivid flashbacks to the poison that was launched during your fight, but when you look over your shoulder to Timo's crying face you're brought right back. You won. You uncap the bottle and drizzle it all over your dick before dousing your fingers in it.
The lube makes it incredibly easy for your fingers to slide in, even though Timo is tight. It's not as tight as you expected though, so you toss a question at him as you start spreading his walls. "You've played with this before, haven't you?"
"Only as an experiment," Timo says with a pout. You continue to watch him, but it seems that he's actually telling the truth. He played with ass just to see what it was like. Well, you're going to train him to really enjoy the experience, right after you teach him that your pleasure comes first.
The natural stretch makes the prepping consume less time. In no time you're putting your cock right at Timo's hole, but you make use of the extra time to make Timo anticipate. You just stand there, arms crossed, cock right on the brink of entering him but never quite doing so.
The anticipation gets to Timo quickly, his nervous gaze on your dick turning to impatience as he wriggles in his bonds. Still, you stand stock-still, only moving to stroke your dick. It's meant to keep you hard of course, but it serves to make Timo even more desperate. He starts trying to swing back and forth, and for a little bit you let him. When it looks like he has enough force to start pushing your dick inside-
You step back.
"Just fuck me already!" Timo snaps, only to look at you nervously afterward. "I mean, please fuck me! Please!"
As much as you'd like to punish Timo for his snappiness, he recovered quickly and... well, you're really fucking horny. You nod and slide your dick into him, hissing with pleasure in sync with Timo. The time spent teasing Timo made him tighten up a bit, the added pressure adding to your pleasure as you bottom out.
You start moving immediately, but even the slow pace you set makes Timo's legs tremble and his thick cock flop about. You snap your hips forward, seeing that massive cock of his hit his stomach with a meaty //thwack//. You do it again, and again, and again, loving the sight of that rod, so envious in its girth, doing nothing but leaking pre uselessly. It's your cock that claims holes, not his.
Taking your time with it, you explore just about every angle you could think of. It isn't long before your dick presses into a certain spot that has Timo practically convulsing, but his rampant shakes only forces him to sway back and forth, letting your cock press on his prostate a second time. God, the way he squeezes down on you, the pitiful way his face twists as he tries to stop the pleasure coursing through him, it shoots heat right into you.
In the end you don't have to do that much. Timo practically fucks himself on your cock as he tries to adjust himself, get away from the white-hot pleasure from having his most sensitive spot smashed into. Sometimes he's successful, at which point you just take a hold of his hips and thrust until he's right back at square one. Sometimes he's completely unsuccessful, swaying just like he did earlier and prolonging his agony.
Of course, you can't have that.
Finally taking the initiative, you hold Timo in place as you start thrusting for real. Although you don't go on that long thanks to all that squeezing Timo did earlier, Timo feels it all the same as you demolish his prostate. He cums first, sticky white liquid hitting both his and your stomachs. You're not long after him and slam in one final time to shoot your load, relishing in your complete victory.
When you pull out, gravity makes your cum start leaking. The sight is hot, but you get an idea that would make it even hotter. "Don't let any of that spill."
Timo clenching his hole desperately marks the beginning of his life of slavery underneath you.
[[Timo Feysepp has been broken.->FCConquestEnd]]Approaching the massive repository of books, you push open its ancient doors. From the rusting joints you expect a horrid creaking noise, but as it swings backward there is no such sound. In fact, there's just silence.
Your intuition tells you that there's something more going on than magical doors, so you remove your cloak and bundle it up. Usually when you're undressing it creates quite the thud since it is one of the heaviest parts of your ensemble, but as you toss it inside it lands with no noise. You test it again, this time inside, and you hear the familiar thud of heavy fabric.
Closing the doors behind you and shrugging your cloak back on, you conclude that the library is soundproofed from the outside. At first glance a nifty detail, it becomes extremely impressive when you see the sheer scale of the library. A long building, it's stuffed to the brim with shelves that tower high into the sky, each of which is similarly stuffed with books of all ages, sizes and subjects.
In sharp contrast to the darkness interrupted only by moonlight outside, the library is lit by several orange lamps. It reminds you of the ever-burning flames in Astope, but these are contained in elegant fixtures that light up far more of the room than any natural fire would.
You roam the shelves, eyes skimming over the priceless tomes but never stopping, at least until you see a familiar name: Wevendh. You open it and note the story of your people, albeit with a much more neutral tone than the spirited accounts your historians tend to spin in their scrolls. Truly, this place is packed with knowledge.
Books and shelves aren't the only thing populating the library, however. As you approach the center of the building you see a single person at a table, hunched over as he scribbles rapidly. The massive black hat is a dead giveaway, but as you draw closer and see his pink and purple ensemble you know you've stumbled upon the leader of the Floating Citadel.
It makes sense that the most powerful mage would be staying up in a place like this, admittedly. Your quiet approach allows you to get right behind him, leaving only the issue of what you want to do from here.
You...
Greet him politely.
Greet him casually.
Try to sneak past him.
(link:"Attack him.")[(set:$playerAggro to $playerAggro+1)(goto:"TimoWarning")]The next day, your spymaster's plan comes into effect.
Instead of announcing it directly to the Floating Citadel, your envoys inform the politicians of Frateo first. The rumor spreads like wildfire, so much so that the news spreads to other countries even without any proof. Combined with the Citadel's statement that Timo had indeed disappeared, the topic becomes extremely popular, to the point that schisms start forming between believers and skeptics.
While the Citadel normally wouldn't care less that their leader was taken as a hostage, to the point where the Council is rumored to pick off their leader if they become troublesome, Frateo's involvement has turned it into a complex political issue. Should anything happen to Timo now, while you hold the advantage, other nations would be happy to point out that you had no reason to execute Timo and accuse the Council of disregard for human life. Additionally, no nation wants to ally with the Citadel in this matter, as it allows their agendas to take hold in the previously self-sufficient country.
{Looking for the truth, other nations petition the leader of Frateo to find it for them. (if:$camilleSlave is true)[Having been enslaved by you, Camille begrudgingly admits that not only is it possible, it's highly likely that you've actually succeeded. He says that he'll dispatch envoys to ascertain the truth of the matter, but you send a letter asking for his audience. You fuck Timo and Camille in alternation until the Prince Regent has to return to Frateo.](else:)[The Prince Regent announces that he will send envoys to ascertain the truth for themselves. You gladly receive them, the envoys getting an eyeful of your dick pumping in and out of Timo's bound body. In their faces you can see a whole range of emotions, but one of the most obvious is sheer jealousy. You revel in it, fucking Timo over and over again once the envoys leave.]}
The news spreads even faster this time, the envoys swearing up and down that you indeed have him, and in a compromising situation at that. That's when you start demanding control of the Citadel.
{(if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)[//Public opinion of you in the Floating Citadel and Krozulan has worsened significantly. Public opinion of you in Qadogom has improved slightly.//] (set:$opinionFloatingCitadel to $opinionFloatingCitadel-3)(set:$opinionKrozulan to $opinionKrozulan-3)(set:$opinionQadogom to $opinionQadogom+1)}
With the issue having gone so public, the Council has no choice but to cave into your demands. Even though you do not visit the Citadel yourself for safety concerns, the documents proclaiming you the new Praecantator arrives at your doorstep soon enough.
All throughout this you keep Timo in the dark. All he needs to know is that the Council abandoned him, and how best to serve his master.
(link:"Life is good.")[(set:$endFloatingCitadel to true)(set:$conquerFloatingCitadel to true)(set:$endCount to $endCount+1)(goto:"NationHub")]Led through the numerous halls by Gier, the twisting path soon becomes too overwhelming for you to follow properly.
It is an entirely different landscape from the mountains, which themselves can be confusing. In place of the many trees and the uncertain patches of grass scattered by jagged rocks, you are instead faced by gold filigree, paintings of all varieties and settings, and the constant yellow illumination of electric lamps.
Arriving at the suite is both too fast and too slow for you, nerves acting up last minute when Gier finally opens a set of doors for you.
There is nothing to do but simply take the plunge and walk inside. Even though his hood is pulled up over his head and it is impossible to spot a tail from the way the Handelpias is seated, the absence of sleeves gives you a clear view of his tattoo. The ink is so black it looks to have been done no earlier than yesterday; likely magical in nature.
"Tell Vantidice I ain't going to his party. Not if that bastard tries to swindle me out of more of my cash. Who the hell does he think he is, going all in //all the time?// Just because I'm the only guy who can take a hit like that doesn't mean I want to!"
You note with some surprise that his voice is actually on the higher side. It's not shrill or feminine, and in fact sounds deep and masculine on certain words, but there's a certain twang to it that is distinct from the usual male voice. He is speaking to yet another one of his siblings, identifiable by the fact that this one is wearing a maid dress in contrast to the others.
Gier clears his throat and speaks. "Sir, you have a visitor."
"For real? Damn. Ah, to hell with it. Schedule a trip. Gives me a chance to give Vantidice a piece of my mind." He shoos the dress-wearing sibling away, who quickly exits without acknowledging your existence at all. The Handelpias on the other hand is nothing but eyes on you, extending his hand in greeting.
When you offer your hand, he clasps it between both of his in order to give a mighty shake.
"How do you do? Mikleikko Svantteri, the undisputed richest man in Dusetmene, Thiarbre, and perhaps even beyond. Handelpias too, 'course."
His friendly approach tempts you to drop some of the formality, and you carefully weigh the pros and cons of this in the split second it takes for you to reply. You eventually decide on an in between, giving two of your titles rather than the full coronation list. "Serpent of the Peak and King of Wevendh, $fName $lName. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance."
"Hope you don't mind if I call you $fName? Please, by all means, call me Mikleikko. There's enough Svantteris running around this joint, especially that sour-faced escort there."
Gier stops making his negative expression and leaves the room silently, at which point Mikleikko returns to his seat and offers the opposite couch to you. He reaches forward to a short-legged table, upon which sits an assortment of cups and liquid containers such as a kettle. His cup is already filled with a dark liquid that smells almost like the nuts grown in Krozulan. He takes a sip before continuing.
"So what have you come to my suite for?"
[["I have a proposition for you."->MikleikkoPropositionChoice]]It isn't too long before the steep mountain paths start to become less so, but the way they wind only gets worse as you travel around several large hills. Extremely wide rather than tall, the regular trade route was carved around the hills so as to make the journey easier on horses' legs.
Along the way you meet up with some traders. It's no surprise that they're heading to Dusetmene, and while it's obvious that they're interested in selling you wares, they're good company.
It is around such hills that you take one of your traveling breaks. Not for you, of course, but for your coachman and the horses of your carriage. There would normally be concerns about bandits and brigands preying on anyone foolish to stop along the open roads, but this is already the territory of Qadogom.
{(if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[You're impressed, although not by Qadogom itself. Rather, you're thinking more of your destination. Dusetmene is shrewd indeed. Not many would dare approach a powerful nation with the offer of money, as military forces could just take that money for themselves. The fact that Qadogom took the offer instead of invading makes you think there is something more beneath the surface.]
(elseif:$playerAgenda is "Aggro")[In some ways you have respect for Qadogom, as it's one of the few nations brave enough to be in open war. The tales of their horses scaling hills normally considered impassable to cavalry, their arrows
It would be a shame to have to defeat them, but if you intend to conquer the world then there is simply no choice. For now however you can admire the strength of their will and the order they bring to their territories.]
(elseif:$playerAgenda is "Brother")[The thought of asking the people of Qadogom whether they've seen your brother does come up once or twice, but you discard it. Qadogom may have its intellectuals, but the sheer volume of Dusetmenean traders passing through is sure to overwhelm even the deepest memories. Even if they may have seen him, it would probably be from vague recollections of his official visits. He has spoken with the Despot, after all.]
(elseif:$playerAgenda is "Seduce")[It is said that the ruler can be seen in their kingdom. While your brother intended it as a solemn reminder of the duty you have toward Wevendh, you took it to mean that rulers' good traits can be seen from the way their territories are run. Just because you want to wed and bed many people doesn't mean you don't have standards. The Despot must be a man of great strength, of control where it matters. Mmmm, maybe when you have time to visit Qadogom itself you can consider bedding the Despot.]}
Even now the furious clop of hooves is no cause for alarm. Among the traders that accompany you, the experienced ones merely continue setting up camp while the younger ones look around bewildered. One of the oldest traders there, a woman with long and twisted hair laughs.
"I know I say 'keep yer wits about ye', but that's fer the craters of Magictown and the axes in the southern Bushlands. " She says, bursting into laughter with the rest of the older crowd. You suppose she's referring to the Floating Citadel and the Tribes of Kroz. It's refreshing to hear different parlances, as most people speak Syseiosn as it's taught worldwide.
A single figure crests over the hill. It's hard to see them given the dying light of the setting sun, but you can just about make out some of their features.
It's...
[[A youth.->DusetmeneQadogomYouth]]
An experienced rider.
The Despot himself.The de facto common language in the world, it is used purely for convenience rather than any cultural significance. The phenomenon is closely studied by linguists, as no country recognizes Syseiosn as a national language despite its ubiquitousness.
Syseiosn was first thought up by renowned poet and artist Yasehali, who found it difficult to communicate with foreign dignitaries whenever they visited his court. His frustrations with being unable to communicate with the dignitaries he found attractive were, at first, channeled into a series of poems, which are still considered masterpieces today.
Eventually, however, he created the most basic form of Syseiosn, which is believed to have been purely spoken. The other nobles at the court quickly took notice of Yasehali's increased interaction with foreign men and the language he gradually taught them. It is said that certain lords threw themselves at his feet begging him to teach them the language, as they were smitten with nobles from other lands. He obliged, and the language spread like wildfire through the different nobility systems until even the highest rulers were using it. It was then that Syseiosn became known as a language of love and nobles.
Wanting to emulate the nobles however, servants learned it through pure overhearing. From there they brought it back to their families, who often used it in business to give the sense that they worked with royalty. It wasn't long before even the lower classes spoke Syseiosn fluently.
Despite Syseiosn losing the status of nobility language, it never fell out of use. To distinguish the nobility from the commoner, royals simply turned toward creating dialects of their native language and forbade the lower classes from learning it. If ever they needed to communicate, they could use Syseiosn. It has been such for centuries now. A boy in his early adolescent years looks at you all with equal parts curiosity and fear. When one thinks of Qadogom, the idea of burly warriors who fear nothing comes to mind, but no man is born grown and riding into battle. You watch him silently back, wondering if he's accompanied by anyone else. Given the emphasis on personal strength riders place on themselves, you assume that he isn't.
Of course, you don't have the time to actually ascertain that. The old woman calls out to the youth with no hesitation whatsoever. "Aye, yer welcomed joining! Frighting the youngins means yer the leader of the pack!"
"Come now, the only frighting 'em is you," Another elder, this time a man with a gnarled beard says as he jabs his smoking pipe in the woman's direction. "Might've been robbed a few, but they never made off with yer beauty. Ye had none!"
The good-natured banter between them continues, but there's a little more truth to the old man's statement than he might've thought. Whether it be by the directness or the volume of the experienced traders, the youth turns his steed around and leaves. Perhaps you'll get some insight into the lives of young Qadogomese when you intend to make Yegpeskotaka your destination.
While you don't participate in the conversation of the traders yourself, you're privy to it well into the night. It is not wholly unlike the people of Wevendh, whose drinking continues well into the late night, moving slowly like the stars in the sky.
[[Continue.->DusetmeneEnterTerritory]]When the very first rays of light break over the hills, you and the traders awake. Properly burying the ash left from last night's campfire in heaps of fresh soil, a trader tradition you are told, the merchants and you continue on your journey.
As with most long trips, the monotony of the road is broken up solely by interesting land features, the banter of your traveling party, and of course camping when night falls. The old woman tells you that it's much better than a voyage by sea at least, as the earth doesn't swing to and fro all the time. It's only after that remark that you realize she's probably come from across the sea, or spent significant time on a ship. Perhaps it's both.
Eventually however, you reach the walls of the Dusetmenean Trade Company. Unlike the heavily guarded walls of Zarraqeir or Krzeoch however, this boundary acts more as a floodgate than anything else. Rather than a singular entrance there are many spanning the entire length of the wall. Despite that, the lines stretch long away, leading to a mad dash of caravans as people seek a shorter wait. Merchants and residents alike share the same gates, as it's assumed that any Dusetmenean is a trader themselves.
Only one entrance seems to be heavily guarded, and that one remains entirely clear despite the clamor of people finding an open spot in the shortest lines. With the confidence of nobility you tell your scouting companions to simply accompany you.
Of course, such a bold maneuver doesn't go unnoticed. Heads turn and the traders get to heckling. Given the hustle and bustle around them it is hard for some of them to notice the royal insignia emblazoned, so they yell at your little travel group that you're not ending up anywhere. The lines closest to that entrance however start gossiping among each other instead. (if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[It's just like the Floating Citadel, except with the added derision of people way too far away to know the truth of the matter.](else:)[You haven't experienced quite anything like this in Wevendh, where the traffic is slight to nonexistent.]
The Diermies guards' tails stand tall at attention as you approach. Much like the leather-clad horse riders you passed by on your journey here, the guards are wearing armor that is light and easy to move around in. You wonder briefly whether that's because of actual combat style or just the sweltering sun, which would make heavier armor such as plate a nightmare to stand around in.
You don't have much time to wonder as one of the guards, a massive ox Diermies steps up to your carriage. His hair is thick and clumpy, especially around the the small horns that poke out to the side of his face. Particularly big is his chest, which seems to strain the leather that is meant to protect it. He goes to interrogate the coachman, but he directs him to you. "Halt. This route is the exclusive property of the Svantteri family. If you were hired on orders by the Handelpias, present your certified inventory slip, your travel itinerary and the seal of the Svantteri family, pursuant to the laws laid out in chapter four of the Dusetmenean Trade Charter and its revisions."
Your head swims at the sheer volume of documents, all of which you obviously don't have.
[[Present your royal insignia instead.->DusetmeneEnterTerritory2]]
Pretend you're one of the Svantteri family members.
"Can't I interest you in a little bit of fun?"The stern look the guard has fractures instantly when he sees your insignia. It's practically written on his face that he only knows how to parrot the same spiel to any inexperienced merchant looking for a quick entry. You don't blame him; having to learn rules and regulations that don't apply to 99% of situations is a bit much for a simple guard. (if:$routeFC is 1)[It's highly reminiscent of the mage you met at the bottom of the Citadel, although he didn't even try to hide his unprofessionalism.](else:)[You doubt your general would know how to deal with a ruler that isn't in tow with you, for example.]
He looks back nervously at his fellow guards, who largely return the same to him. It is only a seemingly younger guard that finally steps up to the plate, chewing some sort of sticky red fruit that emphasizes the smack of his mouth.
"Oh, a royal? Let him through."
"Are you certain, sir?" The ox Diermies says timidly.
"You really wanna be on the bad side of a royal? One word to the Handelpias and we'll be out of house and home. He'll fabricate so fast we'll be found guilty yesterday." The young-faced guard pauses to pop another slice of that fruit, staining his lips a peculiar shade of blue. "Even if it's forged he won't get far in the capital. Those guys are paid way too much to not know what a real insignia is."
He turns his gaze toward you and acts surprised, although it's so exaggerated and fake that there is no doubt about his insincerity. He continues speaking, this time toward you. "We know exactly how to tell too, yessir. Go right on through."
Gesturing behind you, at the traders who are no more related to you than a chance and impromptu meeting, you quirk up an eyebrow.
You don't have to supply a single word as the ox Diermies waves them in. His expression is steely again, probably an attempt to save face and seem professional even though his more practical colleague refuses to join him. Laying a hand on him, (if:$playerAgenda is "Seduce")[you squeeze his chest through the leathers and give a mischiveous wink as he rushes to cover them with his hands. He blushes fiercely.] (else:)[you give his arm a friendly squeeze. He seems to relax a little, probably from the fact that it looks less likely that you're going to complain about him.]
It doesn't take long for all of you to pass through, much to the envy of the surrounding lines. It takes even less time for the now-familiar old woman's voice to pierce through the walls of your carriage.
"Aye, here looks like the parting. Different branches of the same river, we are. The youngins are going to run their parcels, while me and the coot are heading back to Highquall. What say you, Mr. King?"
[["Hvolstanes."->DusetmeneCapitalTravel]]
"The southern towns."
"The Dusetmene-Marches border."Although your kingdom is bordered by nearly every nation on Thiarbre, two exist well away from your sphere of influence, far in the north. While this would not present a problem on its own (the entire continent of Vostoli lays to the east, after all), it just so happens that both nations are powerful in distinct and unique ways.
Setting off on a particularly long journey, your carriage joins many traders' caravans on the well-beaten paths toward the nation of riches.
Leaving the borders of your nation is a little more nerve-wracking than usual. Visiting any nation adjacent to yours is a simple matter, one that leaves little concern about your path back. If there truly was a matter of dire importance, a speedy carriage is your only need. Perhaps a single horse, if need be.
Visiting Dusetmene is a different story, even to that of Cmieloniki. Traveling to Hvolstanes is essentially going as far north as Krzeoch and as far east as Zarraqeir, appropriate for the most northeastern nation in Thiarbre. It's not just the sheer distance, either- it's the fact that both Qadogom and Astope block your way. While it's highly unlikely that Astope will declare a surprise attack, the latent fear of a Qadogomese approach is always present.
That isn't to say that you're completely nervous however.
{(if:$endCount is 0)[While you can't rely on any of your neighbors to defend your kingdom, you haven't exactly provoked any of them either. Your brother was a well-liked figure just about anywhere he went. You only have to hope that his good graces haven't been forgotten as you embark on this journey.]
(else:)[
(if:$endFrateo is true)[
(if:$conquestFrateo is true)
[
(if:$camilleSlave is true)[Your bitch of a prince may not be able to offer up an army of his own, but he can certainly make it a political issue. Knowing Camille's silver tongue, he could make a simple invasion of your territory into a big deal. This would probably anger Cmieloniki thanks to Frateo's ambivalence to Qadogom's invasion, but the bitch knows his place.<br>]
]
]
{(if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[
(if:$conquestFloatingCitadel is true)
[
(if:$timoSlave is true)[While a bondage slave usually isn't any help during an invasion, yours just happens to be the most powerful mage in the world. It's risky letting Timo out when the only thing keeping him in is a lie, but you trust Shizomu and Fiomuid to know when to let him out. Maybe when you return you'll give him an extra intense session to keep him loyal to you.<br>]
]
(elseif:$allyFloatingCitadel is true)
[
(if:$timoMarriage is true)[While Timo isn't the most attentive husband in the world, even he can't miss an army attempting to storm its way into Wevendh. Knowing him he'd do something drastic like fly out by himself to defend your kingdom, but his disastrous power is nothing to scoff at. Plus, the Magic Council would chase him down and protect him, probably getting swept up in the fighting.<br>]
(else:)[While the Floating Citadel is more interested in magical matters than anything else, refusing to help the only ally they've made across literally its entire history would reflect extremely badly on them. Knowing the Citadel's magical cannons, they could probably just blast the invading troops from afar.<br>]
]
]
]}
It's that thought that eases any churning that may have been present in your stomach. You peek your head out of the carriage's window, seeing your people hale and hearty. They wave to you good-naturedly before going right on with their day. Your intuition says that they'll be quite fine even with your [[extended absence.->DusetmeneQadogomPath]]"Figures. 's where the kingly types go. Too bad the runner ain't kingly in the slightest! Ye didn't hear that from me!"
With that, your motley crew disbands as the traders all go different directions. You're one of the first to go, in fact, since the group at large heads east while you head for the far north.
You can practically see the architecture style changing as you progress. When you start it's a mishmash of all kinds of styles, each building hastily slapped together and patched whenever needed. Slowly but surely each building becomes more geometric, and soon you see a trend of combining squares and triangles. Although the base and the ground floors are square, everything above is a complicated pattern interweaving the two shapes, leading to an unusual but regular shape. Even the roof does the same except with a different pattern, leading to buildings that look almost like notched pyramids from the roof up.
It's entirely different from the more modal style of Wevendh, because you doubt connecting a different room to another would be practical or even possible here.
Aside from the changing scenery and the sense of progressing time, you can vaguely scale where you are by the temperature. The walls to the south are subject to nearly the same sun as Seridazar, but the gathering clouds do prevent it from becoming scorching hot like the desert. The farther you travel north however, the less the sun is able to pierce through the chill of the air. At one point the temperature is like that of Frateo, a pleasant temperature tending to the colder side depending on the wind. It isn't long before the scale starts tipping heavily to cold however.
It's the mere sight of snow, the fields of pillowy white stretching out far beyond you, that really sets in the feeling of cold. Although your garb was meant to withstand weather and temperature at large, it hardly protects from the pure chill that comes from snow and the environment cold enough to produce it.
You shut your door tight and hope you can find some warm clothes in [[the capital.->DusetmeneCapitalEnter]]The merchant capital of Hvolstanes is tightly packed.
Not just by people doing their day to day business in two senses of the word, but by houses. Instead of attaching rooms as in the Wevendh style, houses are attached almost directly to eachother in blocks of four, separated only by staircases. You watch with amazement as many different people, families and goods move on the iron stairs, going every which way and entering doors.
You recall that this system of living calls their spaces 'apartments', and they stay in mini houses contained in a single room. It's more commonly seen in Chromore, but of course the busy merchants of the trading capital who spend more time sleeping on the side of the road than in their bed would cut their expenses in such a way.
You've only disembarked for a few seconds when you're jostled out of the way by a hurried girl, dog ears barely visible underneath her hat when she yells 'Sorry' without even looking back. You haven't even recovered from that when you're pushed again, this time by several teenage boys who hoot and holler as they surround you. Whatever plan they have is cut short however, as a man even taller than the ox guard you encountered scowls at them. At first laying down and blending against his hair, his great elephantine ears flap as he stomps forward. The teenagers are sent scrambling, what you thought was fur lining on their winter coats shaking along with their lion tails.
Quickly getting out of the road, you finally find some solace. Truly, you've entered the [[homeland and birthplace of the Diermies people.->DusetmeneCapitalHub]]The city of Hvolstanes stretches before you in all its glory.
Through the throng of people you can make out the city at large, which you soon realize is arranged in the same square-triangle pattern as its buildings, except positioned diagonally. The corner of a single building forms the point of the three-sided shape, pointed right at the entrance from which you came. Roads to the northwest and northeast stretch along the sides of the triangle, while the walls of the city proper are square and lined by its own set of buildings.
That isn't to say that the triangle in front of you is completely filled in by buildings however, as through the gaps provided by staircases you see a frozen lake. Using strange metal shoes people glide over the ice.
(if:$askDusetmene is true)[You've learned a few things from a local already.](else:)[[[Ask someone for more information.->DusetmeneAsk]]]
(if:$shopDusetmene is false)[[[Check out the shops.->DusetmeneShopRoam]]](else:)[[[Check out the shops.->DusetmeneShopHub]]]
Look for the entrance to the lake.
Try to find the black market.
(link:"Visit the Handelpias.")[(goto:"MikleikkoSearch")(set:$clothingScore to 0)]"Ohh?" He growls, low and guttural in his throat. He was relatively inhibited already, but the thought of owning you- even in exchange for money- must be too tantalizing for him to express in words. "You know exactly what to say. Still, I hope you don't mind if I check out the goods a little first? Stand up."
{(if:$clothingDusetmene is false)["You're shivering, friend." His narrow eyes and sharp-toothed grin brokers no argument, especially when you know damn well for yourself that you are. Traveling garb that is simply decent at traversing snow and desert sand will not excel in either. "There really isn't much I can say to this. Really, I'm just not convinced. The only way you could possibly salvage this is if you wrap those pretty lips of yours around my dick for a few hours."<br><br>"Yessir."<br>"No."]}
(else:)
[
{(if:$coatDusetmene's 2nd is 1)
["A lengthcoat, eh? 's okay. I have a couple for my day to day business, but it's stylish enough. If you look good enough underneath I'll have to buy a better one for you, maybe something in pink. But that's getting ahead of myself already. Get out of that, show me the //real// goods already."
]
(elseif:$coatDusetmene's 2nd is 2)
["Oof, tumefy. Yeah, I didn't exactly think you were royalty when you first walked in, so imagine my surprise when you said what you wanted to be. It's practical, but it's like we're taking a sled ride to Yekaskoye... and even then you could probably find something else to wear that doesn't look like an uneven loaf of bread. You better have something really hot underneath that, because it's not looking too good."(set:$clothingScore to $clothingScore-1)
]
(elseif:$coatDusetmene's 2nd is 3)
["I've been wanting to say this since you walked in, but that coat looks so damn good on you. Camille knows his fashion well, so when you have someone as hot as him rocking it... Mmmmf, well, I have to control myself a bit. There's still a lot underneath that I can't wait to sink my teeth in."(set:$clothingScore to $clothingScore+1)
]}
{(if:$outfitDusetmene's 2nd is 1)
[Shrugging off your coat, the oversized woolen tunic fluffs out to its baggy size when you shake it a little. Mikleikko comments after humming. "I usually hate not being able to see figures, but your legs are practically out on display on that. Would love to have those over my shoulders. As for the top- it's cute enough. Not bad."(set:$clothingScore to $clothingScore+1)
]
(elseif:$outfitDusetmene's 2nd is 2)
[You shrug off your coat, and smooth down the robe you have on beneath with a few swipes of the hand. Mikleikko comments shortly after: "Oh come on, I can't see anything in that! Geez, it's like you wore this specifically so you could tease me. Not in the fun way either, it's so straitlaced it's like those teases to the west!"(set:$clothingScore to $clothingScore-2)
]
(elseif:$outfitDusetmene's 2nd is 3)
[As soon as you remove your coat Mikleikko whistles high, so obviously loving the bits of bare skin that are so prominently displayed. Not content with just whistling, he continues: "Now that's exactly what I like. You sure we haven't met before? Nah, we didn't, otherwise I'd remember that body of yours."(set:$clothingScore to $clothingScore+2)
]}
{(if:$underwearDusetmene's 2nd is 1)
["They still make those?" The bafflement on Mikleikko's face extends to his words and tone. From the way his eyes dart to and fro, you reckon that he's struggling to find something good to say. "That's a shocker. Even the regular braies would have fared better, because at least I could see a little bit of thigh action. What a damn shame."
]
(elseif:$underwearDusetmene's 2nd is 2)
["Niiice." Mikleikko says with satisfaction when you turn around, showing off your completely bare bottom. At his encouragement you bend over some, letting him see the full extent of your butt's curves. "Not perfect though. Would've loved to see your cute little cock from the side while you're bending down like that. Not docking points though."
]
(elseif:$underwearDusetmene's 2nd is 3)
[
"Fuck that's so hot," Mikleikko says with a strained voice as you reveal your racy undergarments. His excitement is contagious, his utterly focused gaze sending a jolt of pleasure right into your crotch. Your //exposed// crotch at that, the heart-shaped cutout giving him full view of just about everything there. You follow it up by turning around, giving him another view that leaves him groaning when you bend over just slightly, emphasizing the curve of your cheeks.
]}
(if:$clothingScore is 3)[]
(elseif:$clothingScore is 1 or 2)[]
(elseif:$clothingScore is 0)[]
(elseif:$clothingScore is <0)[]
]At first it seems impossible to find anyone to speak to given the blazing speed that they go at, but there are some people who are standing to the side of the road just like you are. Most of them are equally lost and confused travelers, too lost to get a word in edgewise, but one figure stands just a bit familiar to you: the elephant Diermies who scared the teenagers away.
To be more accurate, he's standing outside an establishment and yelling at someone through the window. You decide that he's as good a choice as any and approach, starting to get bits and pieces of his conversation. It's not very difficult given how loud he is.
"No, I haven't gotten a fastener coat." You don't catch the reply, but by the shake of his head and stamp of his foot you can tell it annoyed him a great deal. "Extortionate, they are! Last week it wasn't even half the price. What do I care what some foreign prince wore? When was the last time Frateo did something for us?"
Among the princes of Frateo, none are fashionable enough to cause waves aside from the Regent. (if:$camilleSlave is true)[Of course he doesn't wear much when you're around, but you do like the fact that your property is eyecatching. It makes the fact that you're the only one ravishing him even better. Others can stare but never touch, let alone hear his slutty moans as you do whatever you want with him.](else:)[While you haven't visited the Regent in some time, his is not a figure one forgets. You believe quite readily that people struck by his beauty would seek to emulate his clothing, especially given that any visit he makes turns into a public spectacle.]
Talk of princes is not what you came for however, so you brush the thought aside and clear your throat when you come to a stop behind the man.
"Excuse me, could I trouble you for a few questions?"
He gives the same hardened stare as earlier, but this time it softens as he recognizes you. "Oh, you're the lost-looking lad. Good you learned not to stand in the road too long. What do you need?"
It's apparent that he sees you as a mere traveler rather than a royal, but in this case it's probably for the best. Royals don't exactly live the same way the common person does, and asking advice from that kind of position would just be asking for exploitation. Roughing your tone a little bit, you reply.
"I'm new to the city. Obvious, I know, but I don't wanna be caught without my wits like I was earlier. Any advice you could give to fit in better with the locals? Don't wanna be scammed out of house and home."
He nods, clearly impressed. "You have more brain between your ears than most. Fine. I'll share some of the local knowledge. Not all of it- just so you're not at a disadvantage. Equal terms and whatnot, yeah? First thing you gotta know is you have to look your part."
He gestures to himself, and it's quite obvious from the splatters of flour on his clothing that he's a baker. Although you normally wouldn't be able to tell, the snow is pure white compared to the more yellow ground grains. The apron is more of an added touch than anything else. He then gestures to other people. At first you can't pick out their professions too easily, but taking a look at their belongings and mannerisms, you realize just how obvious they are.
A seamstress proudly displays spools of thread from a pocket in her handcrafted dress, passing by a snooty-looking lawyer who loudly taps on a legal document he's reading, who a florist with flowers in their hair is strying to shoo away.
It must be necessary in such a busy city like this, you suppose.
"That'll get you in the door," the Diermies continues. "Next is knowing what you want. Now I'm not saying 'be direct' because that'd be showing your hand too early. Instead, take a step toward that end goal that isn't too obvious. Oh, and one more thing: pay attention to important things. That's a skill that even locals struggle with. The people here are blunt, but they're too good at distracting. They'll say something against your interests right to your face but distract you with a story. Don't fall for it!"
"Stop yapping and get in here! The bread looks like it's sticking!" A female voice comes from inside.
The Diermies rolls his eyes. "Gotta go. Missus is the paranoid sort. It's not supposed to stick if you used enough shortening!"
You (link:"return to the side of the road")[(set:$askDusetmene to true)(goto:"DusetmeneCapitalHub")], leaving the baker to his wife.What is there to do in the nation of trading than partake of its own businesses?
As you follow the line of shops farther to the west, the streets slowly start to clear. This is no coincidence, of course. it seems that the hellishly busy locals and traders take the roads to the east, practically an express way meant entirely for business and business only.
Here, as you stroll among non-Diermies people, you find the side for visitors and tourists.
Unlike the buildings lining the eastern road, these are incredibly well maintained. Were it not for the snow most of the stores would have been completely spotless. You do see however that snow falls off of certain ledges at unnatural angles- perhaps a magical solution, and doubtlessly an expensive one at that. It's probably worth it though, as you can so clearly see the high quality products inside.
It isn't long before you see a man with garish clothes patterned entirely in vegetables. As tacky as the design is, you have to admit that his clothes are crisp and clean without a single stain to them. He spots you before long and calls out to you, although he does catch the attention of other passersby.
"These are genuine potatoes from Wevendh, my good sir! Grown among the calcified remains of dragons and tempered by the closer sun, these potatoes are super-dense! What's super-dense, you say?" The theatrical man continnues despite you having said nothing. "Each bite of this potato has more nutrients than those from Agerhaerst! That's right ladies and gentlemen, the mountainous air, rocky soil and company of pigs infuses these potatoes into miracle food!
"They're just potatoes," you say with a bit of laughter. They're damn good in a stew, but nothing else.
He laughs it off, entirely too forced in its suddenness and volume. "My good sir, you offend me! If you haven't been to Wevendh then you can't rightly say-"
"I was born and raised there."
"Then that's the root of the problem! You're entirely too used to your own potatoes to notice the difference! See how well-built you are? That is the good work of your produce, but I see that your body can further be boosted by my other duly imported super-dense products-"
Shaking your head, you leave the man to his vegetables. A crafty one, he is. If he hadn't started with the main produce of Wevendh, you might have been fooled.
Still, there are many other stores to be explored, manned by people who aren't charlatans. One such store you decide to visit is...
(link:"A boutique.")[(set:$clothingDusetmene to true)(set:$shopDusetmene to true)(goto:"DusetmeneClothingStore")]
A jeweler.
Exotic goods.Dusetmene is one of the nations your brother always visited alone, so you aren't actually aware of which building houses its leader. It's typically not a difficult thing to ascertain since the thinking process usually consists solely of 'let's go to the only castle in the city', or 'that extremely tall building is probably it'.
The thing is that, given the abundance of wealth in Hvolstanes, there are many such buildings splattered just about everywhere. It's hard to determine which is the biggest and most expensive simply by sight. The locals on the other hand- you turn to one, putting on your best polite smile.
"Do you happen to know where the most expensive building in the city is? The absolute largest and priciest, even if it's by technicality."
"Svantteri property, my boy, it's right in front of the lake. Or you could well say the lake is in front of it, given the size of it. Mind you though, only the lake is public, and the entry fee is high."
"Thank you very much," You say as you head straight for the lake, weaving through the collection of the staircases. The only downside to your odd angle of entry is that you soon encounter a fence, which means that you've already found the edge of the compound. It really is incredibly big, as from here you can see that it encompasses the entire inside of the triangle. Looking to the left you see a line of people on a road, all leading toward the lake. Looking to the right you see exactly the same kind of road, except devoid of people.
You aren't here for the lake, so you head to the right. As you suspected, you see deep grooves in the snow accompanied by footprints- this is a trading route. Well, you're a trader of sorts.
Once again you are stopped at the gates, but at the slightest sight of your royal insignia they stop their questioning and instead begin patting you down. With a little bit of clever maneuvering of your foot you prevent it from being searched, allowing you to keep a dagger concealed in your boot.
Silently thanking your spymaster for teaching you this bit of physical trickery, you [[enter the Svantteri compound.->MikleikkoCompoundEnter]]At the word 'proposition', Mikleikko's eyes gain a certain glint to them. It's neither friendly nor malicious, really, more an expression of focused interest. It's more like he's watching out for any and every opportunity, just waiting to pounce on anything he could make advantageous for him.
"Now I'm all ears." In a fairly silly gesture he puts his hands next to his short feline ears on the top of his head. The fact that his open hands form much taller 'ears' is somewhat amusing. (if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[You manage to hide a frown as you pretend to be distracted by the calculated gesture; his eyes glint even brighter now, looking for some weakness as he looks you up and down. Giving a polite laugh, you avert your eyes.](else:)[It's hard not to chuckle a tiny bit. The world of royalty could be stifling, so seeing someone like Mikleikko who isn't afraid to be mirthful is a pleasant surprise. It's a shame that you can't return the gesture in some way.]
Mikleikko chuckles himself, linking his hands behind his head as he leans back. "Glad I could help you loosen up. Business should be done between friends, yeah? C'mon, hit me with what you want. I'll see what I can do for a buddy."
(link:'"The nation of Wevendh would like to ally with Dusetmene."')[(set:$playerDiplo to $playerDiplo+1)(goto:"MikleikkoNegotiationStart")]
[["Will you marry me?"->MikleikkoReject]]
(link:'"I want to be your sugar baby."')[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(goto:"MikleikkoDaddyCheck")]
"Could I ask you out on a date?""Straight to the point, huh? Well, I can't blame you." He runs a thumb against his nose, and when he links his hands behind his head once more you can tell that he's flexing. His arms, already strong and defined normally, become sculpted. At the angle he places himself it's almost like he's also showing off his shaven pits. "Lemme do the same. Mmm... nah."
(if:$timoMarriage is true)[The casualness of his dismissal reminds you a lot of your husband Timo, except in the other direction. You always knew Timo was an exception in a lot of ways because, really, who accepted a marriage proposal from a complete stranger? But it turns out he isn't the only flippant ruler around.](else:)[While you didn't exactly think that he'd just drop everything and accept your proposal, you assumed he'd at least consider it, pretending or otherwise. The fact that he minced no words in rejecting you is quite a surprise given how diplomacy usually goes.]
"Could I ask why?" You ask quietly.
"If we're being on perfectly practical terms I have nothing to gain from this." He replies breezily before shrugging. "But I don't wanna hurt your feelings or anything. See, even if I did have something to get from that mountain kingdom of yours, I'm not really feeling the whole 'marriage' thing. I'm one of the most eligible bachelors! Camille? Sure he's fucking hot and the bastard left me a little blueballed last time he came here, but I'm just as desirable as he is!"
You can't argue with that. Even if he isn't classically beautiful like the Prince Regent, his sheer financial power is enough to ensure that no one would object to marrying him. That isn't to say that he isn't plenty attractive on his own either.
There is time yet to save face however. It is not impossible for you to negotiate a non-marriage alliance. "If you're not looking for marriage, surely there's something else you're looking for."
He strokes his chin. "Well, can't say I don't. I'm a man of many interests. I can't give you what you want- joint leadership of this place- without a lot in return. I paid a lot of pretty pennies in my lifetime, but this nation put a real dent in my wallet. The only way I could feasibly give you half the reins is... if you become my slave for a period of time."
"Absolutely not."
"The only price brokered here will be your blood."
[["...Fine."->MikleikkoOwnerBadEnd]]"It's a deal then."
No matter how careful you are about contracts, you are caught in the torrent of words Mikleikko unleashes. You follow to the best of your ability and acknowledge that Mikleikko probably knows exactly what he's talking about- but you don't. You're simply swept up in nodding mindlessly, signing this and signing that as you answer his questions.
"Now that everything's said and done, I should inform you that you've purchased the title of Handelpias from me. Sounds great, right? Well, it is for me. See, since neither you nor Wevendh have nearly enough money to cover the expenses, I set up a loan for you. Because this is a large sum of money passing hands there's a hefty interest rate attached, but hey, that's the name of the game. There's a 10 day interest rate of about 50%, and with the salary you'll make as a slave, you'll be paying it off for the rest of your life."
Rage consumes you as you reach for your concealed dagger.
Mikleikko literally pounces on you, knocking over the sofa on which you sit. He sits right on your shoulders, his crotch right in front of your face.
"If you do //anything// I don't like, I will drain Wevendh for everything it's worth and sell it to the highest bidder."
You look toward the doors, but it's far too late. The servant has long since fled with the contracts, and is likely making several copies of the documents as you speak. You wouldn't put it past them to send those copies to other countries either.
"That's right, bitch. Had a lot of nobles wanting to get a slice of my fortune that I turned into slaves, but none so delectable as a king." He hastily unzips, letting his long cock flop out and onto you. It's not very thick, but it covers the entire length of your face. You have no choice but to breathe in, his thick musk making your head dizzy. "Now suck."
[[Obey.->MikleikkoOwnerBadEndPrivate]]
[[Resist.->MikleikkoOwnerBadEndPublic]]"This guy used to be royalty? You sure?"
The sound of slapping flesh fills the night air, just barely getting in the way of two traders having a conversation. One is stroking his dick, as he watches the other have his way with a lower half of a person sticking out of the wall. Vaguely, there's the sound of scratching and mewls from somewhere.
"Yeah, apparently he was the head of that mountainous place the Handelpias converted into a new trade hub. Guess that's the reason his hole is so expensive even though it's loose. Gotta say though, his moans are cute."
Although it's hard to hear them over the squeaking beds from patrons upstairs, there's just enough give in the hole in the wall to hear about your precious Wevendh. "Please! What happened to Wevendh?"
"Shut up, cunt." The man fucking you slams into you full force, sending your nails scrambling for purchase on the wall once more. The wood has long since been marked, so many white lines from customers getting a little too rough with you. At first they were made out of pain, frustration, but over time they've warped.
You can't help but moan louder as the man continues his deep thrusts. Now you mark the wall only when they fuck you well enough to give you warmth.
"Come on now, the hole can't do anything anymore. We can at least give him some information," the other trader says as your fucker squirts hot and thick liquid into you, finally warming you up some. The other man takes his place and starts thrusting into your already-lubed hole, laughing when you mewl and squirt your third load of the day. "Kingdom's gone. Now it's the biggest slave market in all of Thiarbre. I guess they followed their leader, huh?"
Shame pools into your body, not just because of what happened to your kingdom- it's the fact that you're getting off to it. You cum, knowing you screwed not only yourself but your people.
And that's your daily life, really. Traders of the black market use you as they wish, filling you in on all the details of what used to be your kingdom.
Sometimes you actually find a kind heart who gives you a blanket, or even a heat stone to help you weather the cold nights. Most of the time however you have to beg people to use you, thanking them profusely whenever they stuff a stone in your ass. Sometimes the brothel owner even takes pity on you and lets you out. Only for a time, of course, and mostly because some of the black market traders prefer to play with your entire body rather than just a half.
No matter what though, you always end up with your butt sticking halfway out of the wall, begging customers to warm you up one way or another.
''Game Over.''"Not only do you have the gall to try and attack me, but you're trying to weasel out of a contract as well? I know exactly what to do with undisciplined slaves like you- making you a quick buck."
Resisting at first goes well, since you toss off Mikleikko and scramble out of the doors. The problem is readily apparent when you try to find your way through the maze of corridors. With no time to consider, you simply charge ahead, hoping that you find a staircase or even a window that will allow you access out.
Unfortunately, the only thing you run into is Giers' baton.
While you're normally tough enough to weather a simple strike like that, you're completely caught off-guard by his ambush. What little wind left in your lungs from your sprint is squeezed out by that one strike, which is followed up by another, and another, and another. Gritting your teeth you try to fight through the pain, but Mikleikko's other siblings show up with batons.
The resistance is literally beaten out of you, and your battered body refuses to move from its spot on the floor. The siblings strip you before slapping chains on your hands and feet.
There is practically nothing you can do when you're led into the snowy alleyway of Hvolstanes in the dead of night, completely naked. The only reason you aren't freezing is the heat stone placed in your ass, held in place by a monstrously thick buttplug. You can't even cry out for help as they stuffed your mouth with the same kind of plug, the black material pressing against your teeth.
You're carefully navigated away from the main streets and into the black market, where the traders cheer upon sight of you. Some people grab their purses and prepare to sprint to a wooden platform, anticipating a slave auction. Instead of going there however, Giers and the rest of your captors bring you over to a wooden building, proudly advertised as a brothel.
No matter how hard you squirm you can't break free, but once again they surprise you as they don't enter the brothel. Instead, they order some of the traders around to cut a hole out of the side of the wall. Once that is accomplished, Giers pads the hole with several layers of cloth. He shoves your head down, yanks the plug out of your mouth and forces you through-
Or, at least, half of you through.
No longer able to see anything but the insides of the brothel, you yelp when you feel merciless smacks to your ass. You try going forward, but your body catches on the edges. You try moving backward, but it's the same. You're well and truly stuck now.
You're left crying and your butt stinging a hot red when they finally finish, but the worst part is yet to come. They tug the plug out carelessly, gloved fingers rubbing against your wall when they reach in. As soon as they remove the stone inside you, the cold hits you like a brick.
Giers appears in front of you, slapping you across the face before pulling your head up by the hair. "You better start begging for people to use you, because that's the only way you're going to get warm. Who knows? Maybe some kind heart will give you a heat stone of their own volition... Or they'll be the same black market personnel and make you do something demeaning for it. That's the [[punishment->MikleikkoOwnerBadEndPublic2]] for fucking with the Svantteris.""Are you absolutely sure I can't talk you down to 3%? Your assistance is invaluable to this project, but the stakes you have them at aren't conducive to profits. Think of it almost like patronizing! You like those Astope musicians, right? Stifling them with rules and regulations isn't good for their songs."
"You aren't convincing me, Svantteri." A gruff-sounding man replies, the amount of medals on his figure indicative of his wealth. Even from your position you can tell that your master cannot afford to lose this deal. "Especially when you have a slave attending to you right as we speak."
Mikleikko shrugs as he thrusts up into your mouth. Your lips have been swollen since this morning, constantly servicing your master's boots, feet, and especially his cock.
"I never said you couldn't use him. In fact, consider this a little bit of sweetening the deal. You may not recognize him, but this hole is royalty. I even have the documents." He pulls you off with a sharp tug to your head, turning you around to show off your face. The man raises an eyebrow before recognition hits him.
"How did you get the King of Wevendh to such a... shameful position?"
"Oh, he came and begged me." Even though it isn't true you nod enthusiastically, too cock drunk and already broken to even argue. By the way you slip your lips right back on him, anybody would be forgiven for thinking it to be the truth. "His mouth is heavenly. I made sure to train him to the full extent of his bitch body. No gag reflex."
For a time there is simply silence- at least between the two of them, as you greedily slurp and suck on Mikleikko's long cock, drawing back sometimes so you can taste some of his seed instead of having it all poured down your throat. The taste drives you just as crazy as his thick scent does.
You hear a zip, and suddenly you're in a spitroast.
It doesn't hurt, of course. Your master keeps you lubed at all times, ready whenever the mood takes him and he decides to fuck either of your holes. He loves your mouth the most, but the other hole is popular among his trade partners. Like the one heaving above you, plumbing your hole. It's.... okay, but he's not nearly as long as your master.
When the man finally has his fill, shooting ropes of sticky cum into your yearning hole, you climb onto Mikleikko's lap. The cum makes it even easier to spear yourself on his cock. He feels so much better than that stranger, moans spilling out of your mouth every time you feel that rod of his spearing you so deep, in a way no other man has before. He's trained you to crave him so thoroughly that only he can satisfy you now. You cum while they finalize the contract.
Being the personal slave of the richest man in Thiarbre isn't that bad. He dresses you in the finest of clothes when you leave his estate, you dine on only the most exquisite of foods when he takes you to restaurants, and you serve him with every inch of your body. Sometimes you're loaned out to other people, but it knocks more money off of your debt- not that you'd every disobey your master in the first place.
He's fond of reminding you that you've actually fallen further into debt, the amount of times you've serviced him and others failing to make a dent in what you owe him. The thought of being completely and utterly owned used to scare you, but now the thought of him owning all of you- your mouth, your nipples, your cock, your hole-
You wouldn't have it any other way.
''Game Over.''Mikleikko laughs, but there's a pure ring about it that lets you know that it isn't out of malice. Rather, it's genuine mirth that he displays after he takes another long sip. "What nation doesn't? Still, I'm glad that you're outright about this. No pretenses to hide behind, no other deal to be shoved in at the last second. Allying is a big enough deal all on its own, yeah?"
(if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")["I'm well aware that many nations vie for an advantageous relationship with the Trade Company. I don't presume Wevendh to be special in that regard. However, I assure you that Wevendh is special in what it offers to you and your people."](else:)["Right," you say sternly. More posturing than anything else, it's clear that Mikleikko isn't buying a second of it. He just continues sipping from his cup comfortably.]
"Ohh? So what exactly do you think the Trade Company can do with? We pride ourselves in getting everyone exactly what they want, even if they don't know it yet. Not gonna lie, I doubt you have anything new, but if you do, then we can be very, //very// good friends."
(if:$endFrateo is true)[[[Offer the diplomatic favor of Frateo.->MikleikkoFrateoReject]]]
(if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[[[Offer magical catalysts from the Floating Citadel.->MikleikkoFCAccept]]]
[[Say you have nothing to offer.->DusetmeneDiploFailBadEnd]]"Frateo, you say?" Mikleikko looks at you with keen interest. "Oh yeah, you managed to do something with Camille, right?"
(if:$camilleSlave is true)['Managed to break him,' you stop yourself from saying. It's a precarious balance sometimes, thinking of Camille's beautiful face twisted in ecstacy, but business takes precedence. You instead nod amicably. "Indeed."]
"It's true that Frateo does have a lot of influence, and that does make it a bit easier if I'm making a deal... but no. No thanks."
Confusion fills your features. "You would pass up an opportunity to ask more of Frateo?"
He nods, a casual motion that carries so much weight behind its simple motion. "It's nice to have, but it's not tangible. You can't exactly quantify diplomacy, right? I'm sure tons of other nations would die to have an in with them, but Dusetmene is different. We're merchants, and at the end of the day we look at the profit margin, the cold hard cash we raked in from selling something to someone. We don't deal with ideas or empty promises, we need something upfront and in our hands so we stay secure. You understand, right?"
(if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[Taken aback by his blunt response, you begrudgingly nod nonetheless. As much as you prefer the ways of diplomacy yourself, if it isn't right for a certain nation, you are not in a position to say so otherwise. You simply need to find a different angle.](else:)[To say you're surprised is an understatement. Even though you yourself don't dabble in diplomacy as often as other options, you thought it more pertinent to deal with Frateo before the Trade Company. There's very little in the way of arguments you can make, so you nod glumly.]
"Don't worry, I won't clam up just because the first trade is a bust. As long as you can offer me something, I'm willing to consider it. You //do// have something else, right?"
(link:'"I do."')[(set:$mkNego's 1st to 1)(goto:"MikleikkoNegotiationRetry")]
[["Not at the moment."->DusetmeneDiploFailBadEnd]]"The Floating Citadel?" He practically slams his cup onto the table in front of him; not the smartest action, as he quickly yanks his hand back and sucks at the droplets that fell on it.
You nod.
"Ohhhh, that's right! You (if:$allyFloatingCitadel is true)[(if:$timoMarriage is true)[married the short guy, right? I like living life enjoyably, but that guy lives a little too freely. Imagine if I just dipped out of a business meeting? I could never get away with it! I'm guessing Timo must be something else in married life too."](else:)[managed to bargain your way into a favorable position? Fuck, you got ahead of me! Well, there's no use crying over a missed opportunity. As one businessman to another, I give you my regards!"]] (elseif:$conquerFloatingCitadel is true)[managed to kidnap the short guy? Don't worry, I ain't above that kind of thing myself. I'm just shocked you managed something like that. Isn't he super powerful? Wow, guess I should watch myself around you... or not, since we're negotiating."]
"You're well-informed. That being said, we aren't here to discuss how exactly I came to this position with the Citadel, right? I believe that you've shown more than enough interest in my offer."
"Well, you got me. Yeah I want better terms with the Citadel, and it would be crazy to think otherwise."
(if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")["I was well aware of your need before, admittedly. Even if heat stones weren't such a common commodity in the northern countries, I noticed you use considerable quantity to maintain your pool. Perhaps another time I will ask to use it, as I've taken steps to ensure it remains unfrozen."](else:)["Everyone needs a better position with the Floating Citadel, but none so much so as Dusetmene. I can literally see the line of Dusetmenean traders under the Citadel each day, differing only in members and not in length."]
He rubs the back of his neck bashfully, his downturned eyes accompanied by his drooping feline ears. "Shit, it was that obvious? Need to get a better poker face before the party, or I'll lose everything again. Ah, but nevermind that! I'll draw the contract up. I'll let you look over it, of course."
Let him handle the contract.
[[Let your own castle staff look over the contract.->WevendhContractCheck]]
(if:$endFrateo is true)[[[Ask Camille.->FrateoContractCheck]]]
(if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[[[Ask Timo.->FloatingCitadelContractCheck]]](set:$introState to false)
Public Opinion notifications: (if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)[On/(link:"Off")[(set:$notifPublicOpinion to false)''Off'']](else:)[(link:"On")[(set:$notifPublicOpinion to true)''On'']/Off]
(link-goto: "Return", $lastPassage)One store practically demands your attention from the inclusion of a shifting sign.
Seen more commonly in Chromore where electricity is a daily component, the lighting and darkening bulbs to produce a moving image is the work of machinery. You don't have an intimate knowledge of it, but you do feel some pride in distinguishing it from magic, something most other visitors would mistakenly believe it to be.
That being said, the end result is still amazing. The bulbs working in tandem with each other produce a featureless figure in the middle of turning. However, as they turn, their outfit changes. There are four images in total, showing off an elegant tailcoat in white, a full-length dress in yellow, cozy casual in blue, and even what appears to be a summer outfit in green. You suppose a boutique of this caliber wants to cover all its bases.
As soon as you enter the boutique, a pleasant feeling of warmth washes over you. It's a welcome change from the cold seeping in through your traveling garb.
A saleswoman greets you cordially and follows you as you browse the racks. This particular one is Diermies, but some of her already-busy coworkers aren't. The uniform here is quite loose in its rules, the only commonality being that they wear translucent white garments somewhere on their person. In her case, it's her entire blouse, letting you see her woven undergarments. You soon realize the purpose of such a setup- all around, you see her coworkers ducking in and out of the changing room.
It seems that this store allows people to make use of their employees as models, something especially handy for those with servants. From the face of one male cat Diermies, blushing hard while smiling, you assume that they enjoy what they do.
Still, you're not here for a model show, at least not yet. You focus on the clothingIt's clear from the look and feel of them that they are not only high quality but durable pieces of fashion.
While you would normally be able to buy the entire stock if not the boutique itself, you only came with a traveling sum. This should allow you to buy a complete outfit, given that you stick to one piece per category.
''In other words, you can only buy one item from each category.''
When the door opens the cold wind from outside travels just far enough to hit you, causing a small shiver. You should probably find (link:
"a coat")[(set:$coatDusetmene's 1st to 1)(goto:"DusetmeneCoat")] first.When you tell the saleswoman that you're looking for a coat, she immediately directs you toward the wall where many of them lay. Given the sheer amount of them and your apparent apprehension, she bows her head.
"Allow me to direct you to the most popular pieces, sir."
As soon as you nod she reaches over to a coat right next to her. She must have done this a million times given how smoothly she removes the coat from its hook, raising a sleeve to help you see the detail that is otherwise lost from simply holding it aloft.
"A timeless classic, the (link:"lengthcoat")[(set:$coatDusemene's 2nd to 1)(goto:"DusetmeneOutfit")] is a signature clothing item to the locals of Dusetmene. A fine balance between fashion and practicality, we offer a signature overlapping style coat fastened using a belt. Matching color and included with your purchase, of course."
"How about this one?" You point toward a coat of odd proportions. Unlike others which are quite sleek, this one features several prominent lumps that are present in just about every area of the piece of clothing, except for the shoulders.
"Popular among our merchants and even residents of Yekaskoye, the (link:"tumefy jacket")[(set:$coatDusetmene's 2nd to 2)(goto:"DusetmeneOutfit")] remains a necessity to anyone looking to stay in the cold for long. Its specially designed lumps are filled with a mixture of feathers and self-replenishing heat stones from the Floating Citadel, ensuring a comfortable experience even in the harshest winter."
"Alternatively we have the (link:"fastener coat")[(set:$coatDusetmene's 2nd to 3)(goto:"DusetmeneOutfit")], a relatively new style partially inspired by the uniforms of Highquall. A bit blockier than most other styles, the oversized buttons and wide shoulders are said to give you an air of authority. The buttons are not for decoration; they are the actual fasteners in this piece of clothing."
"That should be enough for now," you inform the woman, who quickly bows her head and steps to the side as you think on it. (set:$outfitDusetmene's 1st to 1)With a coat selected, the saleswoman leaves your side for a few moments to bring the outerwear to the counter. You direct yourself to a rack that doesn't require experience or intimate knowledge: a collection of pre-selected outfits, made up of a top and bottom assembled one on top of each other.
There are other people milling about here, primarily ones in traveling garb like yourself. It's an ingenious idea, really, putting pieces together so those without time can simply grab and go.
That being said, you have a little more time to examine the clothes than most.
The very first outfit that catches your eyes is a (link:"woolen tunic of large proportions and fitted trousers")[(set:$outfitDusetmene's 2nd to 1)(goto:"DusetmeneUnderwear")]. At first you assume it's simply a size larger than is intended for you, but when another person walks out with one such tunic, you see that its bagginess and looser fit is entirely the point.
The second one you see is a (link:"robe")[(set:$outfitDusetmene's 2nd to 2)(goto:"DusetmeneUnderwear")]. Highly reminiscent of the students of the Floating Citadel or even the vestments of the Cmieloniki priests, you can't help but snort quietly. Since the robe is long there is no accompanying piece, which defeats the purpose a little you think, but they attempted to justify it with the two-patterned cloth it's sewn from.
Finally, there is an outfit which is less cloth than anything else, labeled (link:"halftop and bottom shorts")[(set:$playerLewd to $playerLewd+1)(set:$outfitDusetmene's 2nd to 3)(goto:"DusetmeneUnderwear")]. If you were to wear this particular set, your entire stomach and most of your legs would be exposed. Usually wearing such clothing in this climate would be a death sentence, but with your new coat waiting at the counter, you suppose any building with heating would allow it.As soon as you make your choice, it's out of your hands- literally, as the saleswoman carries it back to the counter dutifully. At first you consider browsing a bit slower so that the worker doesn't have to run, but you soon realize that you've inadvertently come to the underwear section.
You're soon joined by a salesman this time, a fair bit shorter but remarkably similar-looking to the worker who first accompanied you. As you look down on his blue hair and his twitching, fluffy cat ears you pause. It's the cat Diermies from earlier, the one who was blushing fiercely as he tried on some lacy lingerie. In fact, he's still wearing it, the bright red of his undergarments quite clear through his see-through white pants.
Clearing your throat, you put the thought aside as you think of what underwear to purchase for yourself.
The salesman takes the initiative and bounces up to the rack. The clumsy way he goes about it makes you think that he's gotten bored of his actual memorized spiel and is just winging it.
"As you can see we have some fabulous selections like the, uh, (link:"midway braies")[(set:$underwearDusetmene's 2nd to 1)(goto:"DusetmeneClothingFinish")]! It's not one of my favorites and it is a little outdated, but I do see lots of guys wearing it around these parts. Easy and comfortable, perfect for underwear that just gets the job done. Warm, too! Or was that just because of the crotch... Nevermind!"
Moving directly to the next one, he gasps. "This one's good too! This is called a (link:"strap")[(set:$underwearDusetmene's 2nd to 2)(goto:"DusetmeneClothingFinish")]. Business in the front, 'fun' in the back. That's right- cloth for your crotch but none in the back! It sounds a little weird at first but it's so convenient!"
If it wasn't obvious before, the salesman has intimate knowledge with just about every one he's recommending to you.
"This one is sooo good," The salesman practically purrs, rubbing his thighs together. "It's a (link:"heart cutout string")[(set:$underwearDusetmene's 2nd to 3)(goto:"DusetmeneClothingFinish")]. Cloth on the front and back, but none on the side like other strings. The best parts are the cutouts. Mmmm, it's so exciting knowing that your front and back are completely exposed even though you're wearing something. Ah, it's hard to get this level of vulnerability."
The excitement the salesman shows is blatant at this point. You could choose one of the undergarments he showed you, or ask if he can model one for you...With the musk clouding your mind you can do no more than open your mouth.
This satisfies Mikleikko however, as he quickly places the tip of his cock right on your tongue. The potent taste has you suckling in no time, his scent turned into flavor melting not only your resistance but your mind in general.
For a time Mikleikko lets you do that, but that doesn't satisfy him forever. He starts moving, and quickly at that. At first you don't mind because it's just more of that throbbing meat to run over with your tongue, feeling every vein as you chase that taste further. The problem comes when his tip starts poking at your throat.
You're finally snapped out of your stupor as your gag reflex activates, but instead of your head flying backward as you expected, the back of it lands squarely into Mikleikko's palm. You're given no choice, no chance to fight back as he forces himself into your throat, groaning loudly whenever your throat convulses, savoring every moment that your mouth tightens. You run out of air extremely quickly, but thankfully he seems to realize that when he lets go.
You start taking a deep breath in when his saliva-covered cock comes to rest on top of your nose. You get another whiff of his strong scent, the lightheadedness of little air and the overwhelming sensual experience combining into a cock-drunk stupor. You take two such breaths before the process is started all over again.
This time he gets a little bit further, the veins on his cock now much larger, easier to trace with your tongue. Another time he slides in just a bit further, moaning loudly as he purposefully triggers your reflex with sharp, short thrusts. Yet another time your mouth finally reaches the base, and your nose is buried in his pubes.
"Never get tired of seeing that. I was originally going to have you sold, but if you keep looking at me like that every day I wouldn't mind spoiling you a bit. Oh, not just that cute confused doe-eye thing you got going on. I mean my cock straight down your throat, and you can't do anything about it. That's the fucking hottest."
You manage to get a small nod out. He laughs in return. "You want that too!? Fine, then I'll give it all to you!"
Taking the back of your head in his palms once more, he slowly starts standing up. You will yourself upward, a task that's so much easier when you think of how obedient you look with your lips locked right to him, and successfully follow him. You end up in a kneeling position, sucking Mikleikko off like you asked for it.
He isn't satisfied with that however and starts moving forward while keeping your head in place. Your head keeps tilting back and back until your back is forced to follow. It is at this angle that Mikleikko really goes hard, hammering his hips right into your face and conquering your throat. Your need for air is soon forgotten as you put your hands on the back of his thighs, just waiting for the delicious cum you know he's going to pump right into you.
When he does, your arms fall limp to your sides even as you swallow dutifully. You vaguely realize that you cum too, but it's lost in your confused head.
"I'm going to have so much fun with you." Mikleikko says before you [[lose consciousness.->MikleikkoOwnerBadEndPrivate2]]All done with your little shopping spree, you head over to the counter. Given that this is a high demand boutique your coinpurse becomes quite a bit lighter, but there's still enough in it to make miscellaneous payments. If there was one lesson your brother taught you, it was not to spend all your money in one place.
"Would you like to change into your clothes here, sir?" The salesman who accompanied you asks, cutting off the cashier. The cashier is unbothered surprisingly, which means that this is likely a common followup question.
You briefly consider changing somewhere like an inn or even your carriage, but the thought of braving the snow even for just a second in your traveling garb banishes the thought. You duck in quickly to one of the many changing rooms, noting as you walk that the salesman is pretending that he isn't following you even though he is.
(if:$playerStyle is "Lewd")[If it's a show he wants, it's a show he'll get. You shimmy your clothes off one by one, making certain to face the door. You hear an 'Oooooh' that is quickly cut off. Maybe the salesman is trying to be at least a little bit subtle. Every time you bend over to pick up your next garment, you make sure to give a little shake of the butt or a small thrust before dressing. It's unfortunate but you're soon completely dressed, signaling the end of your model session.](else:)[That being said, you hardly give off a show. You simply shrug off your clothes and replace them. You swear at one point that you hear a disappointed 'Awwww' from outside the dressing room, but you ignore it in favor of just dressing as quickly as possible.]
With renewed pride in your new clothing, you emerge from the store and back into [[the heart of Hvolstanes.->DusetmeneCapitalHub]](if:visits is 1)["Come on, you're a potential partner. Try some coffee." Mikleikko pours a cup of that dark liquid that you now know the name of, handing it toward you.
Given how easily he sips at his and the fact that Dusetmene isn't exactly known for poison, you take a small taste. It's very bitter, your scrunched up face making Mikleikko chuckle. He takes the cup back and rips open two packets, dumping the contents into the liquid. He then pours in what looks to be milk from a different container before stirring it with a spoon. He looks straight at you and licks the back of the spoon, the intention of which you can't quite parse.
"Sugar and milk. Makes the coffee much more tolerable."
He downs his own cup before preparing another round for himself in the same way he did yours. It's only when he starts drinking again that you follow suit, and you admit that the additions have practically eradicated the bitterness. Feeling energized, you now...
]
(else:)[You both pause as you continue drinking coffee. If either of you seem to run low, Mikleikko takes charge and refills. The pleasant thrum of energy through your body lets you think of other things you could offer, such as...]
{(if:$endFrateo is true)
[
(if:$mkNego's 1st is 1)[You've already offered the favor of Frateo.]
(else:)[[[Offer the diplomatic favor of Frateo.->MikleikkoFrateoReject]]]
]}
(if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[[[Offer magical catalysts from the Floating Citadel.->MikleikkoFCAccept]]]
[[Say you have nothing left to offer.->DusetmeneDiploFailBadEnd]]Having visited one store already, you avoid the businesses of lower interest, particularly the same man from earlier who is still shilling his 'super-dense' vegetables.
Maybe another time when you're on a more leisurely trip you can engage with these smaller businesses, and perhaps even the funny man clad in vegetable print, but your meeting with the Handelpias takes precedence. With all that in mind, the next store you decide to visit is...
{(if:$clothingDusetmene is false)[(link:"A boutique.")[(set:$shopDusetmene to true)(set:$clothingDusetmene to true)(goto:"DusetmeneClothingStore")]]
(else:)[The clothes you bought are snug on your figure.]}
A jeweler.
Exotic goods.Now that you're actually inside it, you can see the absolute luxury you are surrounded with. While castles such as yours are built with protection in mind first and then simply decorated on afterward, this is nothing but a boast, a showcase of sheer wealth.
To begin with, the path you're traveling down is lined by statues. Although they're made out of marble, they've been painstakingly painted to resemble the Handelpias as he's described in your Codex. For the most part they are entirely congruent, featuring the Handelpias in various outfits. As you go on however, you start seeing some small differences.
What you thought was a wear and tear blemish is continued, a splotch of pink on the face like a birthmark. Another occasional commonality is glasses, which leaves you wondering whether the Handelpias actually needs them or if they're some sort of fashion statement.
Past the statues are large clearings of green, one such clearing containing a pool of water that is completely unfrozen. You watch the snow fall from above and disappear instantly on contact. Magical heat stones- powerful ones at that, and undoubtedly expensive to have running especially while nobody is using it. You suppose if there is one person who can actually afford to do so, it's the one you're looking for.
As you approach the actual building you see it is one of the few that strays away from the square-triangle model. Unlike the stained brick that makes up the houses beyond the fence, the Built like a flat horseshoe, the sprawling architecture is centered on the north and extends to the west and east before coming straight down. It is no exaggeration to say that, given it's length and multiple floors, it is possible to house a small nation in there.
Pushing past glossy resin doors which are mostly glass, the insides are no less garish in their display of opulence. Carpets, plants in vases, paintings from the Flowering Marches, a chandelier, even sectioned floor that seems neither wood nor stone. It's so much to take in that you almost don't notice a Diermies walking right up to you.
"State your business," the Diermies with piercing blue eyes and fluffy grey hair striped with black says, cat ears twitching.
"You're-"
"Not him, I assure you." The Diermies sighs and pushes his glasses up before fixing the cuffs of his sharply pressed tailcoat. "I am the eldest of the Svantteri siblings, Gier. Due to the shame of losing all of my money and assets to my younger sibling, I now serve him in secretarial capacity. And yes, telling you this is my obligation and part of his stipulations for sheltering me."
How brutal. While this certainly isn't the case for Dusetmeneans and large, the richest of the rich will gladly devour each other if they show weakness, even flesh and blood. For Mikleikko to have overtaken the eldest so completely speaks to his financial prowess.
"Gier, I'd like to meet with your brother. I am the-"
"King of Wevendh, yes, I made sure to note your appearance in the event of your visit. The Handelpias is a very mobile man and cannot guarantee his presence without a prior appointment. However, as the ruler of a trade partner with Dusetmene, you are an exception. Let me check where the Handelpias is at this moment. Please take a seat."
He gestures to a couch, and as soon as you sit you see another familiar-looking Diermies emerge. However, from the splotch on their face you know that they are not Mikleikko either. Dressed similarly in butler clothing, Mikleikko has successfully overtaken not one, but two of his siblings. He is a person not to be underestimated, clearly.
Soon enough the conversation between the two ceases, the birthmarked sibling runs off somewhere and Gier addresses you. "I have located the Handelpias. He is currently-
[[in his suite in this complex."->MikleikkoMeet]]
on his private trading ship."
on his way to another nation.""Oh for real? Well that's... incredibly disappointing. I thought you would have brought //something// to the table, given that you're taking up my time. Time's an incredibly valuable commodity, especially if you're talking to the weirdo to the east. Oh well. See ya later!"
You make to leave, but Gier practically tosses the doors open and grabs you by the arm. His grip is iron tight, and although you swear up and down at his rough treatment there is nothing you can really do when you're thrown out of the compound.
Failure to ally with Dusetmene initially seems negligible, but when you push your plans further you soon hit a deadlock: that of money. Even when you undertake endeavors that don't involve coin, Dusetmene refuses to sit idly by and allow you to work your way through Thiarbre. Whenever you do something that is even the slightest bit inconvenient to them, they pour coin into opposition. Even a war effort proves ultimately fruitless as Dusetmene simply bribes your forces.
Truly, alerting Dusetmene to your intentions without giving them a share of the pie has ruined any chance of progressing.
''Game Over.''Since Wevendh's forté is dragon raising and its stores were mainly gained via conquest, none of your servants are particularly well-equipped to deal with your request. They do their best poring over the thick documents, but they only catch major exploitative conditions before Mikleikko is asking for the contract back.
Time is of the essence with this opportunity, and since you don't have any excuses to extend the deadline further you reluctantly relinquish the contract.
The sloppy job leaves Dusetmene satisfied in their advantage, but with the Citadel unhappier. Although your people are good at what they do, you should probably look into nations and their people who have better experience with finances.
(if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)
[//Public opinion of you in the Floating Citadel has worsened moderately.//]
(set:$opinionFloatingCitadel to $opinionFloatingCitadel-2)
[[Continue.->DusetmeneDiploEnd]]"Honestly, you made it a bit too easy for me." Your new owner arrives at your castle, It goes without saying that Frateo resorts to diplomatic measures, but in accordance with their friendliness to both of your nations, they do so in the role of a mediator. Camille cleverly weaves it into a spectacle that shows Frateo as a fair and just nation, recruiting accountants from many different countries.
They meticulously comb through the documents, removing anything that is deemed manipulative, unfair or outside of the realm of good faith.
The intense scrutiny that Frateo places the contract under is not without its faults, however. When the accountants are finished, it is completely balanced. While this is usually a good thing when dealing with the far more experienced Trade Company, you get the feeling that you could have gotten more of a benefit out of this somehow.
What's done is done however, and the contract has been finalized.
[[Continue.->DusetmeneDiploEnd]]{(if:$allyFloatingCitadel is true)
[
(if:$timoMarriage is true)[You send the contract to your husband, who gladly takes at it with the passion of a man possessed. It isn't the best idea since, when he finally unveils it to you and Klaus, nearly the entire contract had been crossed out. In between complex magical theorems that he'd written in the heat of the moment, his stipulation is 'You're going to give my husband whatever he wants!'<br><br>It is fortunate that Klaus took notice of Timo's activities, copied the contract, and actually discussed with members of the Magic Council to adjust the rates. Given the breadth of their knowledge they easily create a contract that is mutually beneficial, leading to better opinions of you from both nations.
<br>
(if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)[//Public opinion of you in Dusetmene and the Floating Citadel has improved significantly.//](set:$opinionDusetmene to $opinionDusetmene+3)(set:$opinionFloatingCitadel to $opinionFloatingCitadel+3)
<br>
[[Continue.->DusetmeneDiploEnd]]
]
]
(elseif:$timoSlave is true)[You technically send the contract to Timo, but his compromising situation leads to him only signing. When next you send the contract to the Citadel, the Council flips out. Already of a negative opinion to you, they fight it every step of the way. They very nearly succeed in calling the entire deal off, but with a bit of threatening toward Timo (fake of course, since you're only interested in playing with his body), you salvage it. The process was incredibly difficult for every nation involved, and the two of them are left with negative opinions of you.
<br>
(if:$notifPublicOpinion is true)
[//Public opinion of you in Dusetmene and the Floating Citadel has dropped significantly.//]
(set:$opinionDusetmene to $opinionDusetmene-3)(set:$opinionFloatingCitadel to $opinionFloatingCitadel-3)
[[Continue.->DusetmeneDiploEnd]]
]}Returning to the Svantteri estate, you meet Mikleikko directly in the lobby this time. He grins wide as he shakes your hand the exact same way he did when you first met him. Behind him are his four other siblings, regarding you with utterly neutral expressions.
"The deal has been struck. Let us make this a long and fruitful partnership, yes?"
"Of course. Anything for a valued ally such as the Trade Company."
Your sordid group tours the Svantteri estate and you spend some time in the lap of luxury. Living as a king is one thing, but partaking of a feast consisting of imports entirely from Vostoli is another. There are so many that you barely remember them, except of course for a barbed tentacle platter. The sight of it is entirely vile of course, but once Mikleikko insists you have no choice but to bite into the surprisingly tender meat, the barbs equally as soft as the tentacles.
"The barbs are just for show," He teases.
Another highlight is, of course, the pool. It feels incredibly weird shedding your warm clothes while snow falls in thick sheets around you, but you don't feel any of the cold you would normally get with it. Within the protective circle of the heat stones, you actually feel slightly warm. At least, you do until Mikleikko jumps into the pool, curled up in a ball. The resulting splash covers you in pleasantly cool water.
It isn't so bad once you actually swim around a bit, of course. The wine he provides certainly isn't bad either.
Eventually however your little tour comes to an end. Returning to the lobby he gives a bow. "Maybe I'll visit your castle sometime, eh? You can visit here any time."
(link:'"A pleasure doing business with you."')[(set:$endDusetmene to true)(set:$allyDusetmene to true)(set:$endCount to $endCount+1)(goto:"NationHub")]
"So you wanna go on a date?"Double-click this passage to edit it.When you return to Wevendh, you are hit with the sense that something is terribly, terribly off.
Not //wrong//, at least not yet. The moon shines down on your mountain kingdom as it always does. There's just a miasma of unease that grips even the jolly citizens of Wevendh, emphasizing the stark wind that blows under dark grey clouds. It will rain soon.
Funny, that. It's exactly like watching the banks of a river as the rain pours, wondering whether the murky waters will stay as they are or flood, disturbing the natural order. It makes you wonder what the followers of Blicekhi think; is the torrent is divine retribution, a blessing, or just the whims of the gods?
There isn't much time to ponder that question as you climb out of your carriage however.
Your guards greet you curtly, a far cry from the jovial nature of their calls to you upon return. A brisk pace has you moving quickly through your castle, uncaring of the mud that ends up on the carpet. The maids who are usually rowdy in their path stick to the sides of the halls, heads bowed. Passing them by with little more than a greeting and a faint smile, you arrive at your throne room where your advisors await. Even your carefully impassive spymaster gnaws at his knuckle while your infamously cheerful general fidgets uncomfortably.
"You have a visitor, my king." Their combined voices make up for the lack of volume from each of them.
"They can wait," you hiss as you storm toward your quarters. Commanding any servant you come across to come along with you. By the time [[you throw the doors to your quarters open->EmergencyHyacintheDress]], you have a handful of male servants accompanying you, looking about nervously.(set:$introState to false)(set:$ISCheck to 0)Where would you like to go?
Newest:
(link:"More of the palace, and meeting Ziatet")[(goto:"SeridazarGuardEscort")]
NSFW:
[[Good Ends->InstantSkipGoodEnds]]
[[Bad Ends->InstantSkipBadEnds]]
[[Date Scenes->InstantSkipDate]]
[[Miscellaneous Scenes->InstantSkipMisc]]
3+ Nation Requirement Scenes:
[[Emergency Event->ISHyacintheEmergency]]Momentarily affected perhaps by the stifling atmosphere, they do little more than gasp and stare as you start stripping, at least until you fix them with a pointed look. They immediately remember what they're expected to do and swarm the room's wardrobe, preparing your kingly attire.
Two of the servants, one blushing more heavily than the other, hand you one of the most treasured pieces of Wevendh: a bodysuit created by the very first of the wyvern knights, made from scales collected throughout their entire lifetime. At first glance it is indistinguishable from any other sleeveless bodysuit, but its natural light blue sheen gives away the thousands of tiny scales whose painstaking design allows it to act nearly the same as cloth.
Slipping it on with the assistance of the two, the thrum of magic goes through your skin as it automatically warps to your figure. Even when it fits tightly on your body, the magic continues its work, spreading black cloth over your exposed limbs. Those portions aren't nearly as impenetrable as your scale armor, but you know from your brother's drills while wearing it that it can easily protect against glancing blows.
The tradeoff for all this, of course, is the complete lack of stealth. The sheer magical power radiating off this thing would trip even the most ignorant of guards' alarms.
Next on is a heavy cape brought onto your shoulders and secured by a plethora of straps that loop around your arm. Unlike most royal cloaks, yours is split into two directly below the neckline; the jagged and heavily decorated fabric gives an almost perfect illusion of leathery dragon wings, complete with a spike at the end.
The final piece is, of course, your crown. Its high points decorated like mountains topped with large gems, dragons are etched into every part of its band and further decorated with smaller gems to serve as eyes for the engraved beasts.
The last time you wore this was your coronation. It feels so long ago and yet so recent.
Thanking and dismissing your servants, you return to the throne room. Seeing you in your full regalia, your advisors nod and allow you to sit before calling out to the guard at the main door.
[["Bring in the guest!"->EmergencyHyacintheMeet]]The presence of your guest is made obvious even before you can see them, a loud //clack clack clack// punctuating each step that they take.
Gripping the arms of your throne, you steel your expression as you try to guess who it could possibly be. An ally? A vanquished foe? Perhaps even a leader from Vostoli to the east? Either way, you're holding your breath.
The doors finally open up to reveal a figure who is nearly entirely black and white. Even the flickering torchlight that illuminates the darkness of your castle during the night fails to cast any meaningful orange glow on him. It's almost like the light only serves to brighten him, making clear the contrast between him and his surroundings. The only thing that escapes his monochrome ensemble are his wide blood red eyes, the color of which seems to move in a sluggish swirl.
Umbrella placed gently and elegantly over his shoulder, the chains attached to it never hit the ground despite their length. Even though they sway in time with his steps, the sound they make is so even they practically sound the same each time. In fact, now that you think about it, the sound of his boots follows the same pattern.
He reaches the center of your throne room, where his umbrella just disappears. No warning, no sign of its whereabouts, it just disappears. The guest moves into a perfect curtsey, hands held out to the side as if picking up some invisible cloth and one foot swept behind, head bowed in deference. When he rises from the gesture he goes back into the exact same stance he had when he stopped, and in the blink of an eye even his umbrella is within his hands once more.
"The most pleasant of greetings to the illustrious ruler of Wevendh." His voice is distinctly boyish but tinged with maturity in its decisiveness and clear pronunciation of every syllable.
"The same to you, Goespeur."
A slight chuckle escapes him, his free hand moving with mechanical smoothness, stopping in front of his mouth without touching it. "The title matters not to me outside of my domain. Please, you may call me by my name."
"What brings you here, [[Hyacinthe von Hartmann->EmergencyHyacintheAsk]]?""I have been watching your progress quite closely, my dear king. For instance, I know that you have (if:$endFrateo is true)[(if:$camilleSlave is true)[taken control of Frateo via force yet through covert means and enslaved its former regent Camille,]] (if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[(if:$timoMarriage is true)[received the respect of the Magic Council and the hand of the Praecantator Timo simply by asking for it,](elseif:$timoSlave is true)[attacked and defeated the Praecantator Timo in the dead of night before enslaving him in this very castle,]] (if:$endDusetmene is true)[(if:$allyDusetmene is true)[given the Handelpias Mikleikko an offer that he couldn't refuse which drew national attention,]] and undertaken other little actions along the way that are too mundane to recount."
If his unnatural movements hadn't unnerved you already, the thorough, practically intimate knowledge he possesses of your actions does. You resist the urge to stand up and act rashly, perhaps even line up all of your servants to see if there is a spy in your midst. Flying into a fit right in front of Hyacinthe would be tantamount to admitting your worry.
"And what do you intend to do with that information?" You struggle out, keeping as close to a neutral tone as possible. "Do you intend to threaten me in my own castle? Prevent me from unifying Thiarbre?"
Tilting his head to the side, his dense wavy hair moves down just far enough to cast a shadow over his eyes. For a time he just stares straight at you, the constantly swirling colors forcing you to look away lest you become sick.
Finally he breaks the silence. "Hardly. I am simply here to provide a simple offer: a marriage to be undertaken posthaste, and one that I will not allow you to reject."
"Hardly an offer, then." You already have a sneaking suspicion as to whom he is referring to regarding his offer, but you'd really rather not end up marrying some minor Frateo prince should that be Hyacinthe's desire. "Out of respect for your forthrightness I will continue discussing this request, but I warn that this is the domain of the mountains. I will entertain your offer only if I see fit to. Now, what marriage are you proposing?"
Silently he reaches into one of his pockets, producing a matching pair of rings. The bands of platinum are each topped with a perfectly cut gemstone, the torchlight diffusing through the crimson to produce further shades of red and orange.
"I am, of course, asking for our eternal union in marriage. You and I will be wedded not only in the eyes of public perception and the law, but in matters of... let's call it affection. You needn't show it for me, and I doubt it will come with much expression from my part, but know that I hold special interest for you within me."
Of all the leaders you've come across thus far, none have been so hard to read as Hyacinthe.
It isn't just his expression, the incredibly soft smile that may just be his mouth at rest. The entire way he carries himself, from his words to his actions, is unnaturally perfect. It is all too common a trait for humans and indeed even gods from historical records of them, to pretend that one is perfect in each way to inspire their followers.
It is varyingly difficult to tell what flaws each of them possess, but they do possess them. The flaw Hyacinthe possesses is not pretending to be more adept than he actually is, insincerity in his proposal to you, not even his boldness in his approach.
It's the fact that he refuses to mask how different he is from others.
"Surely a marriage like this has its caveats. Let me guess, you're going to demand co-leadership of-"
"Absolutely not," He cuts you off. "I have no end of interest in the descendants of wyvern riders, but I cannot say the same for ruling over them. As you said, there is but one caveat I ask of you before we wed: you are to do nothing with the Flowering Marches or its people. Essentially, I ask that you respect its neutrality through our bond."
With the breadth of knowledge Hyacinthe has, it's no wonder he's asking. "You fear that I will influence the Marches?"
"I fear only what I would do to you."
Leaning back in your throne, you decide to...
(link:"Attack him.")[(set:$eHyacintheAttack to true)(goto:"EmergencyHyacintheAttack")]
[[Accept his proposal.->EmergencyHyacintheAccept]]
(link:"Tell him you love another person.")[(set:$eHyacintheLove to true)(goto:"EmergencyHyacintheLove")]Jumping up, you yell at your advisors to flee.
Your spymaster gladly turns tail, but your general looks pained in your decision. It takes him a moment's hesitation before he darts off, commanding the guards to seal the throne room entirely. Despite the commmotion Hyacinthe has done nothing except pout, stance still casual.
Focusing on the magical properties of your heirloom armor, a beidhander forms in your hands. The massive sword is fearsome in its weight and sharpness, the glittering blade erupting from the pommel designed to look like a dragon's head.
With the armor and weapon of the founder of Wevendh, you charge at your unblinking opponent. Despite the weight of your sword you dash forward with renewed ease thanks to the magic pumping into your veins, in fact holding it behind you with one hand. Just before you reach Hyacinthe you stop, skidding forward just a bit with the scaled bottoms of your feet. With a loud cry you grab the grip with both hands now, bringing the entire sword up and over you in a large arc.
Cleaving through the air, it-
Falls to the ground, splitting the stone. It takes a second for you to realize that what redirected your fearsome blow was simply a spin of Hyacinthe's umbrella.
Gritting your teeth you duck low and spin, bringing the beidhander up in a brutal diagonal slice. However, just like earlier, your blade catches on the deceptively strong material and instead hits the floor. That's alright, you'll just keep slashing away until you find Hyacinthe's weak spot.
Another vertical slash hoping to catch him off guard, time slows to a crawl as you see his umbrella split open. Your breath catches in hope, but your blade hasn't even made contact yet- horror sets in as the canopy folds forward and in on itself, forming a scythe-like implement. The twelve panels, now folded, emphasize the ridge and multiple points of the umbrella, giving the scythe a total of six blades.
You don't have any time to doubt the efficacy of the weapon as it pulls your blade right down to the floor, the scraping of metal all too loud in your ears. That is a proper scythe, and deadly at that.
Seeing no way to win with a frontal assault you wrench your sword up and jump back, a movement which Hyacinthe does not deign to follow.
"Let me say this clearly: as you are at this moment, you have no chance of defeating me. I implore you to reconsider, before I must end your journey before you can truly flourish."
[[Keep going.->EmergencyHyacintheAttack2]]
[[Accept his proposal.->EmergencyHyacintheAccept]]"I will not bow to your whims, now or ever."
The glow of eyes precedes a heavy sigh. A trail of red is left burning in the air whenever Hyacinthe moves his head, made all the more obvious when he tilts his head back and to the side. The chains that once hung freely from the umbrella now wrap around the snath, the end of which is held in Hyacinthe's grip.
"I warned you."
He tosses his scythe forward, a movement which tempts you to move but one that you firmly resist, instead carefully watching. Before the scythe can actually reach you it catches on the end of its chains, jerking to an abrupt stop. However, before it can clatter to the floor, Hyacinthe gives an elegant twirl that has the scythe cleaving through several fixtures of your throne room behind and to the sides of him.
The monstrous scythe slices through the back of your throne, neatly carving into it six times with one swipe. The blades whistle over your head as you roll forward, a plan formulating in your head.
Looking for a weakness in Hyacinthe is pointless, so you look for a weakness in his weapon.
The way Hyacinthe wields it is unlike anything you've seen before, but it's simply an extension of the scythe's long range advantage. By getting in closer you can not only avoid those devastating chained swipes, you'll force Hyacinthe into a close combat situation. With your heightened reflexes your sword will find its mark much easier than Hyacinthe's scythe.
You duck and weave, each time barely dodging the six blades. Each time you dodge you're reminded of what would happen if you fail: even when his downward strikes hit the floor, his scythe cleaves through the stone floor easily, sending rocky debris scattering everywhere.
Every second precious to you, you make sure to move forward no matter what, and before you know it you've almost closed the distance.
Having run low to the ground up to this point, you break into a tall stride. He goes for another wide sweep and you can't help the smile that breaks onto your face.
Rather than rolling as you did before, you slide, dragging your beidhander behind you to slow your pace. With his chain above you and his scythe still swinging wildly to the side, you bring the sparking weapon up and cry out, going for a sure hit-
Only for the rattling of chains to fill your ears as Hyacinthe's scythe retracts faster than you can even swing. He flips over you, bringing his weapon down directly on your chest in a circular swing. When he lands he does so on his feet, his beret failing to move even though he completely inverted in his leap.
You only escape death because of your armor, the scythe failing to pierce the ancient draconic scales. The heavy weight of the weapon leaves your ribs creaking, but you hardly have the time to feel it before a blade whizzes right past your face.
Twirling his heavy weapon as if it were a baton, it becomes a spinning wheel of doom as he tosses it from hand to hand easily. You can do little other than scramble back, but once you regain your footing you try smashing right through his offense. It works- at least, in stopping his spins. However, he gives absolutely no ground as his scythe locks with your sword.
"I am not disappointed in your skills. Admittedly this is because I had no expectations for them, but it is all the same. Potential is just that: potential. I would have ushered your growth along had you allowed me, but the time for that discussion has since passed. I am here to reap, whether the crop has grown or not."
Giving only a grunt of effort in return, you deliver an onslaught of blows that Hyacinthe handily blocks. When your sword catches between the blades of his scythe, he twists in an attempt to disarm you. Keeping the grip tight you try forcing his scythe all the way back.
At first you think you've succeeded, only for the blades that aren't holding your weapon to extend, slicing into the little gaps in your armor with devastating accuracy. Hissing, you relent, blood having finally been drawn.
Despite his completely dominant position Hyacinthe retreats, jumping back and bringing his scythe low and to the side.
"This is not a goodbye, but a declaration of a new beginning."
A magic circle forms underneath him, blood red and crackling with streaks of black and white. You know your attempt is in vain, but you try to reach him anyway.
(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)["Return to moonlight."]
[[You black out.->EmergencyHyacintheBadEnd]](align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[
What... What happened?
The night air is cold tonight. Illuminated in the lovely embrace of the moon, the flowers beneath your feet glow an ethereal white. The clocktower stretches far into the sky above. Your gaze meets that of your husband, and his glowing red eyes.
Wait, your husband?
Your head pounds in pain. It is getting hard to think again.
It is pleasant to dance with him, at least. Your aimless waltz fails to trample the flowers no matter how many times your feet brush over them. Wind sweeps across the landscape, but even though the flowers move you cannot feel the breeze. Only the fluctuation of cold and warmth between your husband is there.
At times you want to speak, but there is nothing to be said when so little comes to your mind. Why talk about dances past, when there is one going on now?
Intuitively you know that the sun rises, so why is it that you can't seem to remember ever having stopped dancing? Why is the moonlight so constant, nestled neatly into the glittering darkness of the sky?
Your head pounds in pain. It is getting hard to think again.
The dance shifts just a little, veering off the circle you've walked countless times. In the beginning you were so clumsy, having to watch your feet constantly lest you step on your husband's. Wait, in the beginning? When did you start dancing? Why does it feel like no time has passed at all?
You make a sharp noise of distress, which your husband quickly shushes. Those eyes... you feel like you should fear them, but you have no reason to.
(seq-link:"What were you trying to remember, again?","The flowers.","The clocktower.","The moon.","Red eyes.","...","Your head pounds in pain.","It is getting hard to think again.")
]](if:$eHyacintheAttack is true)[As much as you hate to admit it, the difference in skill between you and Hyacinthe is not only obvious, it is currently insurmountable. There is value to be had in caution, especially when the alternative is potential death at the hands of an incredibly skilled fighter wielding six deadly points. Faced with certain defeat ahead of you, you begrudgingly take your seat once more.](elseif:$eHyacintheLove is true)[So brazenly accepting the fact that he will not be loved in the same way as your actual object of affection, perhaps not even at all, you stare at Hyacinthe still patiently waiting before you. You sigh and tap your thigh a few times. Marriages for political benefit were not unheard of, let alone the practice of harems or concubines. Surely one marriage like this would not hurt.](else:)[Mulling over his words, there are countless factors to consider, your personal feelings notwithstanding. If you think about it purely logically, and with your people in mind, there is only one correct choice here: accepting the marriage. The political landscape as a whole will not change, and you doubt that Hyacinthe would declare it to the world.]
With a bit of a grumble behind your voice you finally nod. "Fine. What of the venue?"
"No need for any preparation, my dearest $fName. As long as our union is known to both of us, the terms have already been fulfilled. That being said, rings are a good reminder, no? I would prefer if you keep it on."
Barely any time passes before Hyacinthe is directly in front of you, slipping one of the rings onto one of your fingers. However, unlike the traditional ring placement on the second digit of the left hand, he slips it onto your pointer finger. This, like everything else, is no mistake; his eyes practically glitter as he watches you move your hand back.
Considering that you've accepted his proposal, you feel obligated to return the gesture. Doing the exact same down to the strange finger placement, Hyacinthe soon raises his hand and watches his ring with something approaching pure satisfaction.
"This feeling... Exquisite." He takes a few more moments to just admire his ring and yours before he steps back, once again dropping into an elegant curtsey. Unlike last time however, he stays in that position to give you a final word. "I do not mind if you consider this a farce, or even disavow our bond in favor for another. All I ask is that you remember this bond, and me."
You blink.
Hyacinthe von Hartmann has disappeared.
Slumping back into your throne, you raise your hand high and look up at your ring. There was a desire in his voice that you couldn't quite parse, one that went untold despite his clear words. Just what did he intend to accomplish beyond his nation's neutrality?
The question haunts you even to the (link:"next day")[(set:$eHyacintheEnd to true)(goto:"NationHub")].The confession draws looks from both Shizomu and Fiomuid, as even they aren't privy to that kind of information. That being said, you'd be surprised if any ruler shows that kind of weakness to their advisors.
Hyacinthe certainly doesn't look the type to do so, even though his soft smile hasn't changed in the slightest. Does he really intend to pursue you after that?
"If you don't mind my asking, who exactly seems to have captured your love for themselves?"
(if:$endFrateo is true)[[[Camille Amoroux.->EHLCamille]]]
(if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[[[Timo Feysepp.->EHLTimo]]]
(if:$endDusetmene is true)[[[Mikleikko Svantteri.->EHLMikleikko]]]{(if:$camilleSlave is true)["Quite curious given the circumstances you have him in. If I recall correctly, you made use of him within his private sanctum. I am not one for 'puns' as they call them, but perhaps one at this moment is appropriate?"<br><br>
"Do you mean to doubt my affection toward him? What I feel toward him is no joke."<br><br>
"On the contrary, I don't."<br><br>
Hyacinthe holds up his left hand, flecks of magic coming together to create a rose. Unlike those of Frateo, it is neither red nor white; it is black, albeit a textured one. Just enough so that you can distinguish the petals, even without help from the flickering nature of the burning torches.<br><br>
As he tosses it into the air, the petals fall gracefully. Fiomuid and Shizomu look on cautiously, but you don't doubt Hyacinthe's intentions. Even beyond being a theatrical type, you reckon that there is underlying meaning to his actions, as esoteric as they might be. As alien as he might present himself, you don't think that his thinking is fundamentally different from anyone else's.<br><br>
"There is beauty to be found in etiquette and its many trappings, the way one holds themselves and the way one speaks. It is obvious that I enjoy such myself, no? However, where does the mask end and where does the self begin? The moment you peel the mask away and expose the truth beneath it- oh my, it's like one of those mystery novellas."<br><br>
"You understand, then." You reply as a stray petal moves your way, which you catch in one hand.<br><br>
"Oh, did I not say it before? I do not mind if you love somebody else, especially not with an enjoyable conversation partner like Camille. I want your hand regardless."<br><br>
Crushing the petal between your hands you send a glare of pure exasperation. "How dogged is your determination for you to accept a marriage where you are placed third?"<br><br>
He places his hand on his forehead, gently closing his eyes. He shakes in a short motion, but the movement is far too smooth to be erratic like his intended meaning. "Limitless."<br><br>
[[Accept his proposal.->EmergencyHyacintheAccept]]<br>
[[Attack him.->EmergencyHyacintheAttack]]]}{(if:$timoSlave is true)[Hyacinthe tilts his head upward slowly, and you note that his beret hasn't seemed to slip at all. Just how is that thing affixed to his hair? After a few moments of staring at the nonexistent gap between hat and hair, you realize that he's looking upward.<br><br>
It's an easy assumption to make that your quarters are on a higher floor, but once again in his uncanny nature, Hyacinthe looks behind him. That's where your quarters truly lay, after all.<br><br>
"There are many ways to show affection I suppose, and trussing up another is not entirely unheard of. I believe I remember such stories, but they usually involve the gallant rescuer freeing their loved one from their bonds."<br><br>
"Are you doubting what I feel toward him? Am I wrong for keeping my partner as I do with any of my prized possessions?"<br><br>
Hyacinthe refuses to answer at first, instead opening and presenting his hand, the palm of which is occupied by an orange tulip. Petaled quite heavily, it is actually a relief when Hyacinthe carefully plucks away at the thick layer one by one. When the extraneous folds fall to the floor, the end result is a splendidly symmetrical flower.<br><br>
"I am but a florist whose breadth of interests is quite a bit larger than most, not a judge. There are indeed some flowers who can be left to grow on their own, gladly taking what they need with little supervision. However, there are some that grow so big they reduce the growth of others. At that point it is the obligation of its keeper to prune it."<br><br>
As roundabout as his words may be, you get the feeling that you know exactly what he's talking about. Humming, you lean forward just a bit in your throne. "Then you know I cannot accept your proposal."<br><br>
"I wouldn't say that," Hyacinthe says as he closes his palm, the flower disappearing when he lowers it to his side and reopens it. "I don't need the bonds on my person, but I certainly do need your hand in marriage."<br><br>
His insistence drives you to...<br><br>
[[Attack him.->EmergencyHyacintheAttack]]<br>
[[Accept his proposal.->EmergencyHyacintheAccept]]
]
(elseif:$timoMarriage is true)["What a joyous occasion that was, was that not? Truly a magical moment, pardon the so-called 'pun' they refer to nowadays. Not just the wedding itself, but the method in which Timo created your venue- truly a feast for the senses. Oh, and it is no small feat to impress the Magic Council. That I know all too well, although I fulfill it more often than I would like to."<br><br>
You distinctly don't remember seeing Hyacinthe at your wedding venue. If you hadn't been, well, one of the grooms there, you would've assumed he was a direct guest. Anyone with any interest in nations at large knows your married Timo, but very few outside of guests know of the specifics of your wedding.<br><br>
This is in part due to the secrecy of the Magic Council, but it is also due to Timo's insistence of responding to every question about the wedding with 'Why? Are you jealous?', which hindered many accounts.<br><br>
"If you don't mind my asking, how exactly do you know all of this? I don't recall you on the guest list or at the Citadel at all, really."<br><br>
"I watched it," Hyacinthe replies as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. You don't read too much into it- given his genuineness thus far, perhaps his vague answer really is obvious to him and his strange thinking.<br><br>
You don't get the chance to question him further either way, as he unfurls his hand to reveal an orange tulip and the flower of the dragonfruit tree, native to Wevendh. Curiously, they have intertwined around each other by the stem. Even the single leaf on each of their stems grows just long enough to touch each other.<br><br>
"Beautiful. However, flowers rarely exist alone. Not only with other floral brethren, but with everything nature has to toss at it. I suppose you can think of me as a drop of dew, or perhaps a ladybug, nestled only on a single leaf, thinking not of the other flower."<br><br>
"You..."<br><br>
"Yes. I still want to marry you regardless."<br><br>
His desire to attach himself to you despite your bond by marriage drives you to...<br><br>
[[Attack him.->EmergencyHyacintheAttack]]<br>
[[Accept his proposal.->EmergencyHyacintheAccept]]
]
}"Hmmm? If I recall correctly, what you've established is between your nations rather than between yourselves. Involving oneself in such trades is the only way to truly converse with Dusetmene, but you haven't even offered your heart to Mikleikko yet."
The faintest hint of blush dusts your cheeks and although you can reasonably hide it from your advisors, you doubt that Hyacinthe failed to see it.
"There is a time and a place for such matters," you respond with as even a tone as you can.
It's true that you haven't really brought up the subject of feelings with Mikleikko, and really, how could you? His casual way of going about things caught you off-guard but resonated with you, and before you knew it you were swept up in his charm. However, business is business and you couldn't muster up the courage to act on your newfound affection.
Did he even like you back? The question troubles you greatly.
Hyacinthe chuckles softly before opening his palm, revealing a yellow bud. Still green at its base and the petals far from unfurled, it simply disappears when next your guest closes his hand. "Untold feeling is particularly exquisite to observe, as long as it is told eventually. Ensure that you reach an ending however, as one will be reached with or without you."
"So you understand why I cannot accept, surely."
"I have no intention of getting in between the two of you, but all the same, I have every intention to be wed to you."
The sheer audacity on display is mindboggling, yet respectable. The only way you can respond in kind is by...
[[Attacking him.->EmergencyHyacintheAttack]]
[[Accepting his proposal.->EmergencyHyacintheAccept]](set:$endFloatingCitadel to true)(set:$endFrateo to true)(set:$endDusetmene to true)Before proceeding, please provide your preferred settings for characters.
(if:$ISCheck is 0)[
Timo Feysepp:
Neutral.
(link:"Married.")[(set:$timoMarriage to true)(set:$ISCheck to 1)(goto:"ISHyacintheEmergency")]
(link:"Enslaved.")[(set:$timoSlave to true)(set:$ISCheck to 1)(goto:"ISHyacintheEmergency")]
]
(elseif:$ISCheck is 1)[
Camille Amoroux:
Neutral.
Married.
(link:"Enslaved.")[(set:$camilleSlave to true)(set:$ISCheck to 2)(goto:"ISHyacintheEmergency")]
]
(elseif:$ISCheck is 2)[
Mikleikko Svantteri:
(link:"Neutral.")[(goto:"EmergencyHyacinthe")]
Married.
Enslaved.
]Choose your nation:
(link-reveal:"Floating Citadel")[
(link:"Timo Phase 1")[(goto:"TimoBadEnd1")]
(link:"Timo Phase 2")[(goto:"TimoBadEnd2")]
(link:"Finisher Failed")[(goto:"TimoBadEnd3")]
]
(link-reveal:"Frateo")[
(link:"Camille Phase 1")[(goto:"CamilleBadEnd1")]
(link:"Camille Phase 2")[(goto:"CamilleBadEnd2")]
(link:"Finisher Failed")[(goto:"CamilleBadEnd3")]
]
(link-reveal:"Dusetmene")[
(link:"Owned by Contract")[(goto:"MikleikkoOwnerBadEnd")]
](if:$ISCheck is 0)[Choose your route:
(link:"Diplomacy")[(set:$ISRoute to "Diplomacy")(set:$ISCheck to 1)(goto:"InstantSkipGoodEnds")]
(link:"Conquest")[(set:$ISRoute to "Conquest")(set:$ISCheck to 1)(goto:"InstantSkipGoodEnds")]
]
(elseif:$ISCheck is 1)[
(if:$ISRoute is "Diplomacy")
[
(link-reveal:"Floating Citadel")
[
(link:"Honeymoon with Timo")[(goto:"TimoHoneymoon")]
]
]
(elseif:$ISRoute is "Conquest")
[
(link-reveal:"Floating Citadel")
[
(link:"Bondage Slave")[(goto:"FCBondageSlaveEnd")]
]
(link-reveal:"Frateo")
[
(link:"Victory Sex")[(goto:"CamilleBottomForced")]
]
]
]While Wevendh is one of the nations closest to the sun, there are few who can claim to know it so well as Seridazar.
The massive desert nation to the east stretches in dizzying swirls of scorching sand. Unlike your mountainous home where the trees grow just as tall and proud as the firm rock they sit on, Seridazar has no such luxury. Neither leaf nor bark occupy the sky, whatever roots they could have grown from long since withered away under the poisonous sand, lost to the march of time.
It is often said that the departure of the gods was a punishment. It is entirely too literal in Seridazar, where the wrath of a goddess inhabits the very earth and perpetually clears the sky so there is nowhere to hide from the sun.
The fact that you can see countless painted screens dotting the desert land is a testament to human's resilience, even in the absence of gods.
The situation is a bit different in Seridazar from what your spymaster tells you however, his hurried words chasing after you as you head to your carriage.
Similar to the twin Diarchs of Astope, Seridazar is thought to be led by one of the few remnants of the gods. However, unlike the alleged demigod twins, the Miraim is believed to be the living reincarnation of the gods that inhabited Seridazar after the forest goddess fled.
Given his achievements, despite the controversy regarding the true state of the gods as they are, you see why people would think of the current Miraim in that way.
"I wish I could accompany you directly to assist you with the Miraim," Shizomu says in a crestfallen manner as he holds your carriage door open, watching you settle into the comfortable seats. "In lieu of my presence, I'll offer my advice: be careful. Your brother was greatly troubled not by the boasts the Miraim made, but the fact that he has the power to make them true."
The thought weighs heavily as the carriage door closes.
[[Continue.->SeridazarIntro2]]Rather than descending from the mountains immediately, you head south first, toward the Floating Citadel. (if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[(if:$allyFloatingCitadel is true)[(if:$timoMarriage is true)[The eagerness of your husband cannot be overstated, so from time to time you glance fearfully at the Citadel. Is Timo watching? If so, is he too busy doing something to teleport to you? Even if he //is// busy, would he be too excited to care? Thankfully, your nervous glances are not justified- soon, you are heading away from the Citadel, toward the Wevendh territory nestled between there and Astope.]](elseif:$conquerFloatingCitadel is true)[(if:$timoSlave is true)[With Timo tied up in your castle, you know how badly the Magic Council must want to strike you down as you so boldly travel. You would not be surprised if they track your every movement now, but at this point, you couldn't care less. You won, and you'll continue to exert your influence on other nations, Council be damned. Entering the territory nestled between the Citadel and Astope, you prepare your unhindered descent.]]](else:)[The mages probably have some way to shield themselves further from the heat and lashes of sand, but you do not possess any such trinket of theirs that would allow you to do so easily.]
It is only here that you begin to move steeply downward, the road not nearly as clearly defined as the main trader routes. Few villages even exist here, the fear of invasion from any one of the three nations hanging heavily over anyone who would dare settle in this particular parcel of land.
The few that do live here are all too glad to give you additional supplies for the long journey ahead however, sending you further downward with renewed supplies. Even so far away from the capital of Draenaid, the jolly nature of your people shines through.
It is when you reach the base of the mountains that the change is most dramatic. Immediately where the mountains end the sand begins, and you have to disembark from your well-used travel carriage to board your new vessel: a beetle carriage.
Your horses, already trained to not frighten easily, still keep a good distance from the massive beetle in front of you. Black as the night, its pincer-like horns make up more than half of its length. You can't make out any eyes on the strange insect, but it is all too easy to see the sand-flecked mouth nestled at the base of its horns.
On its wide and flat back, affixed by ropes that wrap around the beetle's underside, a tent lays. Its pristine white color is marred only by flecks of yellow, the result of braving the desert just to reach you.
"Come along, my lord," The new coachman calls out to you, the Seridazar native chuckling a little as he watches your hesitant approach to the beetle. After all, it is almost as tall as you. "Just jump on, Gahiji here transports weight ten times yours."
Giving a curt nod you leap, landing on Gahiji's tough back. The beetle doesn't even react to the impact, instead turning its head toward the coachman. He tosses a fruit that looks to be Kroz in origin given its pungent smell and spiky exterior, which Gahiji devours without any difficulty.
With you occupying your new carriage alongside the necessary supplies for the journey, the coachman jumps onto Gahiji's head and whistles.
With great sweeps of its legs, the beetle starts submerging itself into the ground. A task impossible on the craggy mountain and difficult in rocky soil, it goes about it with the ease of breathing in sand. It sinks just low enough that your tent almost touches the sand, and you are certain that sand will seep in with the wind along the journey, but that's to be expected. You mostly marvel at the speed at which your beetle starts traversing the desert.
Like the bowsprit of a sailing vessel, the topmost horn juts out far ahead of you. However, instead of being an anchor point, it acts more like the bow of a ship, splitting the sand aside smoothly. Putting aside even the natural disposition of these insects toward digging, the results of their training cannot be disputed; there is barely any movement that can be felt beneath you.
Laying down on the surprisingly soft yet firm carapace beneath you, there is nothing to be done but [[wait->SeridazarIntro3]].You spend more time with your nose buried in a book than looking outside during the first leg of your journey, admittedly.
It's not for the lack of trying, either. Although you keep your screens closed to stave off the heat and dust, you open one from time to time just to see if something, anything changed. The resounding answer is 'no', as the empty desert stretches on.
The words of novelists and poets keep you company in between the glances. In particular, you read the works of Yasehali, newly attained novels from Yekaskoye penned by the mysterious Millia, and, of course, books of all kinds from the country you're currently traversing.
While the first is tried and true classic and the second more daringly contemporary, only the writings of Seridazar drives you to seek beauty in the stark and arid environment.
It comes a bit of a shock to you then, looking up from vivid descriptions of dark purple flowers, to see live specimens right in front of you.
Were you worse informed you would have been tempted to reach out and pick one, but the words woven in the tomes you possess make you hesitate. You know that merely crushing the flowers is not enough to release the deadly curse that inhabit them, but the thought of the lethal poison Seridazar extracts from them is not one to be taken lightly.
Of course, with the arrival of flowers comes the arrival of civilization. Rather than wasting flowers on every stretch of the desert, they are planted where settlements are; mainly around rivers. You peel back your screen further to see the first of many villages on the way to the capital.
Unlike many other nations where buildings are built with the intention of staying completely stationary and unchanging throughout the years, Seridazar architecture embraces change.
From the shade of your carriage you see the colorfully-painted ring of interconnected screens, the stretched and thick materials catching not only dust but the heat of the sun. Wherever the two are absent, the screens are peeled back, allowing the precious winds to enter. The winds are warm and dry- but cooling nonetheless, a welcome relief from the stagnant heat radiating from the sand.
A single tall tower aids in this process, sticking up from the center of the entire settlement. The screens rest on this tower, forming a dome shape that aids in further cooling. You are not nearly versed enough in the architectural method to know how a single tower can adapt to the whim of the winds and still provide its lower levels with a more tolerable temperature, only that it works in that way.
Perhaps it has something to do with the various fountains that are fed by the nearby river. Even these change occasionally, as you watch the thin sheets of water dry only to reappear in some other fountain.
Of course, none of this is done fully automatically. People employed for the exact purpose of moving the screens as the sun goes on its graceful arc in the sky, as well as those tasked with regulating the path of the water, go about their duties as needed.
You make the first of many stops...
and take the opportunity to acquaint yourself with the town.
[[but never stay quite long enough to explore them fully.->SeridazarCapitalEnter]]Like one of the storied pilgrims in Yasehali's writings, you continue stubbornly on to the east, leaving settlements with little more than a swig of water and renewed supplies to deal with the incredible heat.
Your attitude to push forward is aided remarkably by the onward march of Gahiji, who needs so little sleep that your brief stops at the villages are all that it needs. It is no wonder then that you see these hardy beetles traveling well into the night even at Wevendh, where their crawl is a fair bit slower but persistent as traders go on their merry way.
There is little time to think of your home however, as you start falling in line with many other beetle riders ranging from traders on cargo-strapped behemoths to families riding the more moderately sized specimens, and even relatively tiny ones with lone riders at their natural helm. As with any other trading partner the Dusetmeneans are here, gladly transporting wares with their own beetles, but they lack the breadth of control that natives have with theirs.
It makes you glad that you hired a Seridazar native to act as coachman, all things considered.
Speaking of which, you call out toward him. "Are we soon to Zarraqeir?"
"Toss aside your trappings and behold it, my lord."
You do exactly as he instructs, opening up the screen that had been separating you and the coachman. Although you are still a fair distance away, the city's wealth of towers rise high over its already impressive walls. Hailing from the nation of mountains you cannot help but gasp when you see the pattern of the walls; they are not merely paint or even the natural lattice of bricks stuck together.
The stratigraphy tells you that that used to be a mountain, and one that was painstakingly carved to form the extremely thick walls that you now see today.
Even if magic were involved in the carving of the stone, and it may very well have been, it would be on the level of the Citadel today. Although keeping an entire fortress aloft perpetually doubtlessly requires more in the long run, the sheer amount of destructive magic needed to level a mountain could not be understated. (if:$timoMarriage is true)[Your husband Timo wasn't around for the carving of the mountain... right? The thought of the orange wizard running amok in Seridazar is slightly frightening.](elseif:$timoSlave is true)[Although your slave is better used for fucking than magic nowadays, perhaps he could still pull off at a feat as great as this, at least in portion.]
Red and yellow are the most dominant colors of the walls interspersed with white varying in lean toward either color. However, you note with great wonder that the structure includes several layers of blue.
The sight eases your boredom immensely especially given the long line that you're forced to wait in, the western entrances obviously notorious for high volume of travelers. Once you have the idea to ask if you could perhaps find a different entrance, but the coachman just shakes his head sagely.
"Worms, my lord. Not wyrms like your folk raises." He mentions the younger form of wyverns, of which you have studied intensely. Sometimes that term is used to describe wyverns who are sickly or smaller than their brethren even in maturity. "They patrol the grounds. Makes sure that no one attempts to sneak in through the ground."
Normally the idea of sneaking through the ground was preposterous. The manpower needed to carve tunnels through the earth was too large to be hidden. It is a different story in Seridazar, where animals gladly traverse the ground like water. Someone could easily sneak beneath the surface if they were to devise a way to breathe underground and avoid being poisoned.
The sands were, after all, still burning with the goddess' hatred. However, being the capital, Zarraqeir is absolutely covered in purple flowers. Some are so dark as to be black, the amount of poison they absorbed causing their stems to appear withered and dead and the ridges of the petals to grow fat, almost circular in their girth.
You don't imagine that any creature capable of adapting to the poisonous sand is one you'd want to mess with, especially when you can occasionally hear the rumble of solid earth far below you.
[[One long wait later...->SeridazarCapitalEnter2]]Passing through the mouth of the mountainous walls, the sides of the tunnel would have been perfectly smooth were it not for great chunks of raw ore. They are not merely the lumps of unprocessed iron or small formations of quartz one can find in the ground of most any nation, these are entire wedges of stone that are more yellow than red.
The rocks are positively caked in gold. Put simply, it is wealth flaunting of the highest degree, not unlike (if:$endDusetmene is true)[the extravagance of the Svantteri estate that you experienced firsthand](else:)[the characteristic boasts of the richest nation Dusetmene], although in a less refined form.
While Wevendh doesn't have nearly the amount that Seridazar does naturally, your coffers are sufficiently full for your purposes. The glint attracts your eye only in a curious fashion. However, it is clear that that doesn't extend to the traveler directly in front of you.
Even putting aside the ragged clothes he wears and the distinct lack of a mount meaning he got here by foot, you can tell from the fidgeting of his hands and the bouncing of his leg; he wants the gold.
It happens before you can even form a sentence, his foolhardy dart too fast for you to warn against or encourage.
Rather than going for the ore itself he grabs handfuls of golden flakes from the floor. Not a bad plan given that they look to be meticulously swept aside from the road itself in large piles. There's a fair bit of sand in the desperate grips the loner takes, but there's so much more gold that the extra weight in his pockets is of little consequence. He wastes no time doing so either, turning around after only three big scoops.
However, by then, it's too late.
The sound of earth splitting happens so fast that it's soon drowned out by the sound of the gold thief hitting the ceiling. Sand flies at your face but with clever use of your screen you manage to block the dust, earning you a prime view of the giant worm pinning the man with specialized teeth. Rather than being separate parts inside its mouth, they are instead protrusions of its plated outer body fulfilling the same purpose. Unlike the carapace of the beetles, its body is stark white flecked with yellow. Curiously the main body of the worm is more box-like than cylindrical, four distinct sides each curving inward. At the angle you're looking at it, it almost looks like a simple star.
Despite its obscene size you see that the ceiling hasn't cracked in the slightest. That, combined with the abundance of gold dust on the creature, makes you think that it has been trained specifically to guard the deposits that line these walls.
Each city has its own crime deterrence system, but Seridazar's execution of it is both brutally simple and doubtlessly effective.
Soon human guards swarm the tunnel, clad in masks that encircle their faces. They're most likely meant to represent the maw of the worm given the jagged bits of metal fashioned like teeth, but there is an underlying resemblance to the sun in the way its lines are etched into it. Perhaps more importantly, they are made of solid gold. Your first instinct is to assume that their breastplates and greaves are also gold given their sheen, but you soon realize through scratches that it is merely plated over the real body of bronze.
That is where the armor ends and fabric begins. Unlike the translucent cloths you have come to associate Seridazar with, these are completely solid and matte in color. The sand practically bounces off the stiffened fabric as they move however, indicating a much more practical use. On both their arms and legs swathes of cloth billow, red and purple respectively, the former a cloak and the latter a full skirt.
Two guards speak in unison, one in the language of these lands and the other in Syseiosn. While you understand via the latter, you pay close attention to the sound of Seridiya.
"You have transgressed upon the will of he who is wisest and attempted to rob his coffers."
The thief replies in Seridiya, spittle flying with his angered words. Having no point of reference, you have no idea what he is saying.
"Though the sun casts down its rays, to reach for it is folly. To grasp at the gold of he who is wisest is to do the same, for his brilliance is the same. "Be thankful, for you will experience his sagacity firsthand, and either bask in his benevolence or be humbled by his wrath."
The language as a whole is very soft, sounds that you've come to associate with harshness like 'kuh' and 'tuh' deemphasized and flowing together with the entire saying. The only sound that stands out is 'shh', although it comes quite infrequently compared to the long and cohesive strings of soft syllables.
There's only so much that can be softened however, and the desperate cries of the thief as he is dragged away by the masked procession rings harshly against your ears.
A few members of the guard elect to stay behind however.
One in particular approaches the worm, patting one of its curved sides before tossing a large chunk of raw meat into its waiting mouth. Once fed, the beast retreats into the sand. Rather than leaving a gaping hole behind however, it twists and turns in such a way that the sand it kicked up is disturbed back into the hole from which it came. By the time it retreats completely, there is no sign that it came through except for the lack of gold flakes there. This is promptly covered up by two of the guards who scatter the disturbed flakes.
The worm-feeding guard turns to leave but pauses, looking directly at you. Normally your royal insignia is emblazoned directly on your carriage, but it and your horses are far back in Wevendh. The one on your person at all times is hidden behind a sheet, so you could conceal your identity if you truly wanted to.
"Your identity, traveler." The guard prompts.
"You said it. Wandering."
"An envoy of Wevendh."
[["The King of Wevendh."->SeridazarKingEntrance]](if:$endCount is >1)["I was not mistaken, then. He has spoken with great interest of you, an honor most high for any person. Providence has allowed us to memorize your features so that we may further honor you with His presence. His words are a treasure as great as gold, accept them humbly."](else:)["He has not spoken of the king of the mountains, and though we are tools of His will, we are but one length of it. Lacking the providence to determine what is to be done with other leaders, it is my duty to escort you. Be honored, for you will be graced with His presence."]
The sheer emphasis that the guard places on the variations of 'He' is ample indication not only of who he is referring to, but with the reverence the Miraim is held in this nation. Perhaps not by the every man, but surely by the guards under his command.
"I'll be sure to thank him personally," you respond in a neutral tone, the words of your spymaster still in your head urging you to be cautious.
The guard turns to your coachman and starts conversing with him in Seridiya, a conversation that goes by quickly but is full of thankful gestures from the coachman. Abruptly the guard turns to the line and starts yelling at them in the two languages alternately, telling them to move aside.
Since the beetles can and do move sideways, it is a trivial matter to move past the line of travelers, especially with a guard barking orders. It's hard not to look nervously at the leg of your beetle as it kicks aside a pile of gold dust, but you soon hear singing from right behind you.
It's the other two guards, one singing high like a bird and the other low in a brassy tone. Unlike earlier, you feel no movement through the earth other than that of Gahiji. Each time the gold-laden sand is disturbed, the guards kick it right back into place, not breaking their song in the slightest as they do so.
There are many ways to tame dragons, but not by song. It's fascinating that worms are a different story.
Leaving the tunnel behind, the worm-song stops, and you emerge into the [[grand city of Zarraqeir.->SeridazarKingEntrance2]]The hollowed out mountain and the many buildings and statues that occupy it stretch out in front of you. The buildings curve away from you along your path forward, and as you watch the layout from your beetle you realize quickly that the entire city is built on concentric rings.
Between each building is a courtyard full of blackened flowers and a long pool of water. A testament to the amount of curses the fat petals absorbed, each pool is crystal clear, devoid even of sand. A cursory look downward reveals that you've long since left the sand behind for tile. The vividly purple tiles are quite sturdy, carrying Gahiji's weight with little difficulty. They are occasionally overlaid with big symbols you don't rightly know the meaning of, but which are doubtlessly important to the locals.
The exceptions to the courtyard rule are the buildings that directly border the road. Although the roads curve along with the rings to maintain the carefully crafted circles, there are straight paths cutting right to the heart of Zarraqeir; the palace.
At first you expect it to be similarly circular, but the resemblance it bears to the masks of the guards cannot be denied. It is most likely built like a stylized representation of the sun. Between long triangular blocks of buildings rest absolutely massive triangular courtyards, each of which contain multiple pools of water. Although shallow, they were likely designed that way to show off the intricately etched tiles that the water rests upon. Before you can turn your attention to anything else, water gathers in the middle and shoots up, creating a round veil of liquid. They're fountains.
Once again your attention is drawn elsewhere, although this time it is by the people of Seridazar. They gather along the sides of the road, watching with unhindered interest. At first you think it's the guard, but looking straight down you realize that no one uses the center of this particular road. It must be a royal path.
Any pretense of coming here as anything other than royalty has disappeared, so all you can do is hold your head high and display the pride of Wevendh as you [[approach the palace.->SeridazarPalaceEntrance]]Passing between two courtyards, you arrive at the entrance. Having seen three of their own leading you from a great distance away, you are not even checked as you disembark from the beetle. You are about to toss your coachman a pouch of coin for his troubles, only for the rear guards to escort him away.
You raise an eyebrow, which prompts the remaining guard to explain. "You have chosen him for your journey, so he will attend to you for your time as a guest of the palace. He who is wisest will compensate him not only in wealth but recognition for his role."
Placing the pouch back onto your person, you can do little other than nod.
Walking inside, you are greeted by a surprising number of people. Although most of them are busy doing this or that in the same vein as your own servants and guards, you notice that there are some people simply making use of the open space.
And you do mean open, as there is no ceiling above you. You've entered the palace complex already but not the main building, which is surprisingly short. You're used to dramatically high towers or at the very least tall fortifications, but the main palace is perhaps only two or three floors higher than the walls surrounding it. It compensates for this by taking up an almost ridiculous amount of ground, and decorating just about every part of the architecture with murals, tiling, and furniture.
Furniture which is currently being occupied by shirtless men lazing about, you might add.
It is hard to think of the Miraim without instantly connecting him to the infamous harem he keeps and you've avoided doing so so far, but since it's right in front of you you're forcibly reminded of it.
Two of the harem members look toward you before chattering excitedly. They beckon to you, but the guard still waiting patiently for you to resume your walk gives you pause.
You...
[[follow the guard.->SeridazarGuardEscort]]
approach the two harem members.(set:$timoDate to true)(set:$dateCount to 1)Timo shakes his head, the big floppy hat on his head bouncing in time with his hair. "A date? I've never been to one of those! I always wanted to but Klaus told me I couldn't ask other people or that's cheating! He wouldn't even ask me out either, even though I told him over and over again that it was for an academic study!"
You don't know who you pity more, Timo who was gullible enough to fall for it or this Klaus fellow, who thought it necessary to tell the lie in the first place.
"Obviously I'm saying yes!" Timo continues excitedly, joy driving him to throw his hands up. Any sense of normalcy his reaction would have had is shattered when huge bands of green erupt from his hands. Your hair and clothes blow back violently thanks to the sudden burst of wind. You're not alone in this either; one of the red robes shrieks as water is flung from the fountains. Sheepishly Timo turns around and yells "Sorry!"
If this is his usual excitement level, you understand why Klaus told him that little lie now. Still, it's too late to reconsider your choices, since Timo has decided to attach himself to your arm. Magicians were often seen as eccentric but your brother drilled it into your head that they simply thought on different principles. So when the students who study magic as he does watch him with great concern, you know that he truly *is* eccentric.
"I'm happy you accepted," you say to the small wizard snuggling against your arm.
He laughs and looks up at you with a smug expression. "I knew you would be. It's not as good as field research, but credible papers are the next best thing, especially when we have so many of them in our library."
You look toward the massive building, which is frequented by students and staff alike. Would they really have papers on something as hard to quantify as love? Perhaps you underestimated how thoroughly the mages study their craft.
"I wasn't aware that you had an entire collection studying affection."
"We have every book regarding magic imaginable, duh. And this time I didn't even have to use my Praecantator privileges to get the good stuff in the back! They were all just sitting there, under the Romance section. I spotted a fellow researcher putting material back on the shelf, so I made that the basis of my paper, it's called *The Gallant Knight I Look Up To Wants Me To Look Down On Him*!"
The sputter you let out is completely involuntary, which Timo of course takes in stride. While you haven't actually been around him for very long, you can practically see the pride he takes in flabbergasting you rolling off him in waves. He really believes that he knows the ins and outs of dating.
The glint in his eyes makes you feel like allowing him to decide the date from here is an incredibly dangerous prospect so, valuing your life, you start steering him into a much more normal (and thus safer) direction.
"I'm sorry to say, but I don't think your research material is quite accurate." The pout that he makes would've been a lot sadder had he not divulged exactly what he'd been reading. Who writes a bawdy tale like that and puts it in the Romance section? "Just think of it as an opportunity to... correct your studies."
Timo immediately launches into a tirade of knowing that his source material wasn't to be trusted and he was actually lying in wait cleverly to attract a date, and not because he was napping because teaching is too boring. Given the speed at which he says all this, you only understand via gist rather than actual coherent sentences. For your part you merely nod, because you doubt you'd be able to get a word in edgewise, let alone actually make Timo admit anything.
"Oh, just one more thing. Do you know of a good place you and I could go for our date?"
"I know the perfect place!"
The cheerful tone of his voice doesn't match the powerful glow in his eyes as light surrounds you once again. Unlike the white-blue that the novice mage had down below, this one is distinctively orange in color and even scent. Differing also is that although you failed to close your eyes in time, the light doesn't harm your vision in the slightest. It's like you've been submerged in a pool of solid pastel orange.
The only respite from the endless orange is yourself and the small wizard still hanging on to your arm like he isn't the one who decides exactly what happens.
When at last the orange fades and you blink the last vestiges of it away, you see that you've appeared at...
(link:"A dining hall.")[(set:$dateLocation1 to "Hall")(goto:"TimoDateDine")]
(link:"A classroom.")[(set:$datelocation1 to "Class")(goto:"TimoDateClass")]
(link:"A garden.")[(set:$dateLocation1 to "Garden")(goto:"TimoDateGarden")](if:$dateLocation1 is "Hall")[(set:$dateTime to "Morning")](elseif:$dateLocation2 is "Hall")[(set:$dateTime to "Afternoon")](else:)[(set:$dateTime to "Evening")]"Ba-bam!" Timo yells, startling the poor students whose table he decided to teleport onto. You quickly check your feet to make sure that you aren’t standing in potatoes or worse, stew, and breathe a sigh of relief when your boots only hit solid wood. "Give me all of your sweets or I’ll fail your midterm exams!"
With surprising speed they toss up slices of tarts, small biscuits and even lumpy pancakes. At first you're afraid that he'll try to catch the sticky desserts with his hands or even his mouth, but he quickly forms a plate upon which the sweets fall. The beautifully crystalline plate is soon completely obscured with the sugary mess, but Timo could not be happier.
"Does this mean we get extra credit?" One of the students calls out.
"Absolutely not!" Timo snaps before stuffing one of the biscuits into his mouth. He doesn't bother chewing before continuing his sentence, muffling it some. "If I interfere with students' grades outside of their performance, then that ruins not only my integrity, but the school's!"
"But you- you just-" The other students around her sigh and talk her down, unwilling to deal with Timo's insane leaps of logic. You don't blame them. You weren't even involved in that whole exchange and your head is already spinning. Can you really survive a date with him?
Timo leaps off the table, falling to the ground gracefully. This isn't merely a feat of athleticism (you doubt that Timo does any athletics aside from jumping around, actually), this is another display of his casual yet precise magic use. The green wisps are so faint you can barely see them swirling around his boots, snaking around his legs.
Rulers more coddled than yourself would likely appreciate extra cushioning, but the rocky crags of the mountain are much harder than the smoothened stone that your boots hit. You're just fine without it.
{(if:$dateTime is "Morning")[Strolling through the hall leisurely, sunlight dappling across the quiet way, you observe the waking world of magicians.<br><br>
Timo has far less targets to banter or, given the looks of fear on some groups, terrorize during the early morning. The few people who are here at this hour are friends trying to study, panicked students trying to finish their papers, and teachers enjoying . They generally occupy the edges of the space, chasing the last vestiges of the night chill by avoiding the warm streaks of light.<br><br>
The understated mood is certainly helped by the dining room's sheer size, the high ceiling only furthering the sense of scale when combined with the dozens upon dozens of empty tables and chairs occupying the ground. What you assume to be lamps sit on the center of each table, currently unlit and empty even of residue. Not a traditional fire lamp by any means.<br><br>
The result of all this is that even Timo calms down, the mound of sugary treats he consumes producing the opposite effect as he focuses on those rather than other people.<br><br>
The only issue with that is that he seems to have forgotten that the two of you are on a date.]
(elseif:$dateTime is "Afternoon")[The afternoon sun gladly shines through every available crevice, casting the entire room in a yellow glow. In some cultures the afternoon is a treasured mealtime, but it is decidedly not the case in the Floating Citadel.<br><br>
There are more people than there would have been had you visited earlier in the morning, but the hall is still less than halfway full. Students and teachers of varying degrees of tiredness approach a pot at the left side of the room, which is stirred constantly.<br><br>
Although cooks emerge from a door to the side of the pot, they don't do any stirring or even any serving, for that matter. That's entirely the job of an enchanted ladle, placing porridge in people's bowls when they are nearby, stirring the grains when there aren't any, and darting out of the way when the cooks dump a fresh batch of porridge in.<br><br>
Your servants would probably kill to have a tool like that, but you've only ever seen it here. You doubt even getting into Timo's good graces would allow you to take the pot for yourself- people feel very strongly about their food, after all.<br><br>
Timo isn't interested in the porridge at all though, instead going around the tables and talking to whoever he wants to. After the third table, you realize that he's just going to do this for the rest of the day if you don't stop him.]
(else:)[With the night comes noise, light, food and merriment.<br><br>
No, you're not in Astope, no matter how much your surroundings remind you of it. It seems that nearly the entirety of the Floating Citadel gathers for a shared dinner, and the ridiculous number of tables is dwarfed only by the number of people present.<br><br>
Cooks scramble to and fro, tossing dishes over tables with surprising efficiency. You expect food to be spilling everywhere, or at least plates shattering on impact with the wooden tables, but neither happens. At the peak of their arc they are suddenly enveloped in green bands. You recognize them as the same magic that Timo used just earlier, but with none of the subtlety.<br><br>
They land right in front of their intended recipients, the 'parcel' of wind, for lack of a better term, exploding when they do so. Even the new students seem to be accustomed to this, as they hold onto their hats before and sweep their hair back into place afterward.<br><br>
It's fairly amusing watching it happen over your own head as you follow Timo around, but you can only be distracted so many times before you realize that Timo has been swept up in the excitement. He's laughing and joking around with just about every table, and if you don't stop him now you just know he'll get into some mischief and forget all about your date.]}
Clearing your throat, you carefully place a hand on his shoulder. "This //is// a nice spot, but the point of a date is doing things together. There's some charm to ordering food, but I guess we have that already. Let's take a seat instead."
Nodding sagely Timo drags you down to the literal nearest available seat and presents the plate to you, obviously deferring to your apparent seniority on the matter. Not wanting to disappoint, you go for a classic maneuver, usually done at a banquet. Picking up one of the biscuits carefully, you hold it up in a showy gesture, slowly raising it to Timo's lips.
With a loud //crunch//, Timo bites the biscuit clean in half, expressing his happiness perhaps a bit too clearly with loud chewing.
"That's- technically correct," you say after some consideration. "It's supposed to be a little gentler though."
Timo quickly scarfs down the mouthful he took already and tries again, this time sinking his teeth slowly into the biscuit. His big, round eyes do not seek the next wanton thrill as they usually do, only your approval, slight but noticeable shaking whenever you move. The crunching ceases as his teeth meet in the middle, only for him to stay there for agonizingly long seconds, urging you to say something.
The urge to clutch at your heart rises thanks to the concentrated display of cuteness right in front of you, but you fight it down. "Exactly like that."
The shyness practically evaporates from Timo's face as excitement replaces it. "That was easy enough to learn! The research material didn't say anything about eating other than looking at each other from across the room, and this is way better than that!"
Of course, it's not long before his excitement ramps up further and picks up another biscuit. He smushes it against your lips, impatiently prodding at them when you don't immediately open up. As soon as you give in to his unspoken demand, he shoves the disc right in.
Hacking and coughing, you spit out the now-soggy sweet, much to Timo's disappointment. He has the gall to pout, to which you respond...
(link:'"I think I did it better."')[(set:$dateScore to $dateScore+1)(set:$dateChoice to 1)(set:$timoSub to $timoSub+1)(goto:"TimoDateDine2")]
(link:'"Give me a warning next time."')[(set:$dateScore to $dateScore+1)(set:$dateChoice to 2)(set:$timoDom to $timoDom+1)(goto:"TimoDateDine2")]
(link:'"I don\'t think you\'re cut out for this."')[(set:$dateChoice to 3)(goto:"TimoDateDine2")](if:$dateLocation1 is "Garden")[(set:$dateTime to "Morning")](elseif:$dateLocation2 is "Garden")[(set:$dateTime to "Afternoon")](else:)[(set:$dateTime to "Evening")]Birds chirp freely as they fly through the air and past your faces, each brilliant in their color and plumage.
They dart to and fro in graceful swoops between the trees, short and squat things but undeniably knotted and gnarled with age. Their canopies are dense with leaves around their branches, but thin out in the spaces between. From said branches hang fat teardrop-shaped fruits that are adorned by perfectly round orbs of glistening liquid at their bottom, which occasionally fall into waiting buckets below. The wooden buckets glow intensely from the blue liquid they contain, ripples in light mirroring each ripple that the drops make when they disturb the surface.
Around the buckets are grasses of all kinds, a mishmash of different leaves like a patchwork quilt blanketing most of the soil that isn't torn through by the trees' numerous roots. The rest is taken up by some vegetables, although they are nothing like the potatoes you're familiar with or even the imports from Agerhaerst. The leaves they possess have an almost hair-like quality to them.
The trees are treated well not only by the birds who nest in them, but the nervous-looking students who place careful steps in between unbelievably twisted roots to get at the colorful barks.
{(if:$dateTime is "Morning")[The students who are doing that underneath the morning sun are few and far in between however. The sunlight instead graces a handful of busy gardeners, each doing a variety of tasks, as they make their rounds in what you now know is a garden.<br><br>
The buckets are swiftly taken away and replaced before even a single drop can be spilled. In places where large branches have fallen, instead of clearing away the branch entirely, they snip off the smaller limbs before burying the entire thing in soft, loamy soil. The branches are placed in neat stacks next to the filled buckets before being whisked away to parts unknown. Curiously, they don't touch the fruit or vegetables at all.<br><br>
You can't help but wonder why mages are doing it completely manually, with run of the mill tools rather than spells or at least magical implements.<br><br>
"Surprised that they're not using magic to do all this?" Timo says with a small chuckle. Was it really that obvious? "Your brother was, too. It's because magic'll influence the reagents. You don't want to use one of these catalysts in an Earth spell only to find out that a Wind spell plucked them, and your spell just doesn't work! Of course //I// can counteract it with a second element but that's advanced magic."<br><br>
"And for those of us without magic?"<br><br>
"Well you can't cast spells to begin with silly, but I can let you feel what it's like! Hold out your palms."<br><br>
Doing as you're told, a lash of wind scoops up some of the grassy soil in time with Timo pointing up to the sky. The clump of dirt is deposited in your hands, and although Timo's eyes glow with magical power the soil barely expands. Spreading his hands wide, several shards of ice form in and around the soil. The three elements glow in tandem before flashing, the neutralized soil finally expanding as Timo wills it.<br><br>
"That's amazing."<br><br>
"Wanna see something even more amazing?"<br><br>
You nod cautiously.]
(elseif:$dateTime is "Afternoon")[You watch a group of new students approaching one such tree, small even compared to other members of its species. One by one the newbies each ask permission to make use of the tree, and with no other explanation you're forced to conclude that they're asking the tree itself. Using a metal spade they carefully shave off a thin slice of the bark before scurrying back.<br><br>
"Wondering what they're doing?" Timo smiles before dropping into a squat, running his hand along one of the roots that passes between his feet. "These are ancient trees. When things grow to a certain age, they store magic within themselves and may even come to life. None of our trees have turned to treants- at least not yet. For now we harvest the bark for the alchemy and apothecary schools."<br><br>
One of the more standoffish students approaches the tree with none of the respect the others showed, spade held like he intends to gouge out a chunk of wood. Before he can even touch the bark however, he's sent flying high into the air.<br><br>
Vines that were wrapped tightly around the branches, the culprits of the launch, writhe as they unwrap further and further. His scream gets higher and higher at the same time he does, only to cut off abruptly when the fully extended vines swat him back down.<br><br>
"That wasn't very smart of him," you say dryly.<br><br>
"I think he was watching me or one of the other staff members!" Timo doesn't even try to hide his laughter, even pointing at the hapless student. "You're 20 years too early to be looking down on anything in this garden! If we were outside the Citadel you'd be cursed!"<br><br>
The student crashes to the ground, where his worried classmates gather before dragging him away. The supervising teacher reiterates what Timo says in a more professional fashion. In cascading fashion other groups are warned not to emulate those actions, each teacher putting their own twist on it. One of them, a muscular man who looks better suited to be training others physically, tells his students bluntly to not be stupid.<br><br>
"Wanna go somewhere less boring?" Timo says with a chuckle, drawing your attention back to him.<br><br>
//Less// boring? You just saw a tree fling a mage and everyone treated it like it was normal. Still, it's a good way to get to know Timo better... you nod cautiously.]
(else:)[It isn't long before the birds slow however, and by the time the sun sets completely all of them have come to rest in the lofty branches. That seems to be the sign for students to leave, as even the most hardworking students reach their limits. Most of them are too inexperienced to speak to Timo, but he recognizes one of them and yells.<br><br>
"You had all week to do this research!"<br><br>
"What matters is that it's done!" The student yells back, to which Timo huffs.<br><br>
"I can only get away with that because I've done a ton of papers already! Next time don't exhaust yourself!"<br><br>
After the student leaves the garden starts settling into empty silence. The air does not remain empty for long however, as many fireflies emerge in an easygoing dance, not quite lighting up the garden but giving just enough vision that you can traverse the place as long as you're careful. Timo doesn't seem to rely on them to move however, and following behind him you end up at the patch of strange vegetables you saw earlier.<br><br>
"I've been meaning to ask." You say as you squat down next to Timo, who's practically burying his face in the patch. "What are these?"<br><br>
"Mandrakes!" You swear that the plants shiver at his loud voice, but you can't quite rule out the passing breeze. "You call some of your funny lizards drakes, right? Well, these are different! We use them whenever we need materials from a human!"<br><br><br><br>
Quirking up an eyebrow, you examine them closely. So the human-like features must not be a coincidence. "You use human beings for spells?"<br><br>
"Magic wasn't always... this organized. Since it was a wild time after the gods left and no one knew what they were doing, people just sort of experimented. Some did it the completely wrong way." For once, Timo not only seems introspective, but sad. As eccentric as some of his actions are, he nonetheless sympathizes with magic users at large. Maybe that's why everyone looks up to him despite his disastrous reputation. "The Council are stuffy fuddy-duddies most of the time, but it's because of them that magicians don't get a bad rap. Thanks to all of us coming together and pooling are knowledge, we don't need to shed blood like before."<br><br>
"That's a noble way of looking at it." The silence afterward is deceptively comforting, but dwelling on a sad thought is doubtlessly going to kill your date. Another time you can mull over the mistakes of the past with Timo, but not right now. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"<br><br>
"There's a weirder place than this. Wanna see?"<br><br>
Weirder than plant-based human substitute? You nod cautiously.]}
Timo has no such reservations.
Running across the bumpy roots, refusing to even glance down, the small wizard bounces across the area like it's open plains. Your experience in the mountains both helps and harms you in your attempt to keep up with Timo, knowing how far to spread your steps but failing to account for the odd sponginess of the surface.
It's only a matter of time before someone starts falling forward, but shockingly enough, it's Timo who does so. He shrieks, although you can't tell if it's out of fear, surprise, or even excitement.
You...
(link:"leap forward and catch him.")[(set:$dateScore to $dateScore+1)(set:$dateChoice to 1)(set:$timoSub to $timoSub+1)(goto:"TimoDateGarden2")]
(link:"stop in your tracks.")[(set:$dateChoice to 2)(goto:"TimoDateGarden2")]
(link:"trip and start falling too.")[(set:$dateScore to $dateScore+1)(set:$dateChoice to 3)(set:$timoDom to $timoDom+1)(goto:"TimoDateGarden2")](if:$dateLocation1 is "Class")[(set:$dateTime to "Morning")](elseif:$dateLocation2 is "Class")[(set:$dateTime to "Afternoon")](else:)[(set:$dateTime to "Evening")]Bubbling flasks over high heats, murky containers filled with strange organic materials, complex equations lining several shapes in ascending order of complexity, and long numbers scribbled onto loose pieces of paper are strewn about the room with the delicacy of a frenzied madman.
"Sorry for the mess! One of the students thought they'd be smart and tried to make artificial ancient bark by aging blackthorn in a mana solution. The explosion left the classrooms on this wing largely unusable." Timo tuts, looking highly disappointed. "The explosion wasn't anything remarkable. Could've been even bigger if they had just used a Fire base rather than Earth."
You decide to not mention the state of the other classrooms and instead gesture around to the room around you. If you didn't know any better you would've assumed that this was the blast site, although you admit that despite the mess there are no alarming soot marks.
"Oh yeah, this class is being shared by Alchemy and Numerology students. Although we have different classes for several different schools of magic, in reality, magic is the synthesis of all the different branches. Alchemy is all about turning one material into another, and how better than doing so with magical numbers? And in the same way, applying numbers to the real world can be hard to do without something to visualize, like a material changing."
You're halfway surprised to hear such a coherent and sensible explanation coming from Timo. Sure, you //knew// that he was a teacher, but even with the bespectacled orange robe outright telling you that Timo made detailed lectures you couldn't really picture it. Having been on the receiving end of one such lecture, short as it was, you admit that he's a pretty good teacher.
{(if:$dateTime is "Morning")["To what do we owe the pleasure of the Praecantator's presence?" Two voices, each on the opposite end of the pitch range, ring out.<br><br>
From the other side of the room two siblings approach, both dressed in long gowns that would have been elegant had they not been made entirely of patches crudely sewn together. This is likely entirely on purpose, as even though the patches are uneven in size, they are even in shape. From there you realize that not only the shapes but the stitches form a pattern, although it is highly difficult to follow with your untrained eye.<br><br>
"Oh! I didn't know you two were heading this class!" Timo replies excitedly as he bounces over to them, barely managing to avoid bumping into some students precariously carrying a bucket of glowing blue liquid. "I know you're all about Alchemy, but I've never seen you teach the other side! Valentin too busy to fill in for Numerology?"<br><br>
You follow suit, albeit more carefully than he does.<br><br>
"Valentin's always too busy," they reply with the same words but at entirely different times. It's fairly strange to witness. "Did you need anything?"<br><br>
"$fName here is helping me do some real field research, and so far it's pretty exciting! Someone finally agreed to date me, so when it's all done I bet Klaus is gonna be soooo surprised when I throw the paper in his face!"<br><br>
The siblings' exaggeratedly painted lips quirk up in amusement. They make no attempt to hide their eyes meticulously scanning every inch of you, but you can't get a read on what they're thinking thanks to the heavy paint on their faces. They don't budge until some students approach them from behind warily, asking nervously for their instruction on how best to continue.<br><br>
Before they turn around to assist the students, they offer only one sentence to you: "Good luck."<br><br>
That foreboding comment is likely entirely warranted, as you soon realize that Timo has wandered off to a table and started fiddling with some of the flasks.]
(elseif:$dateTime is "Afternoon")[Looking around further you see that the class is devoid of anyone but the two of you, but from the smell of newly used ink and even a paper fluttering down from the rafters, you know that the students were just here recently.<br><br>
Right around now your people would be eating lunch, or those having eaten already returning to their work, albeit at a more leisurely pace. You get the distinct feeling that it's far from the case here in the Citadel, where mages doubtlessly take multiple classes. At least you can sympathize with them, having taken the usual noble's course of classes during your youth.<br><br>
Languages, etiquette, weapons training, history, minor star reading, horse riding, dragon riding- it was a physically intensive course, although magically lacking. You were lacking in the second part as well, at least in front of your brother, who thought it fit to essentially become your second instructor.<br><br>
"If you don't mind my asking, how many schools of magic are there exactly?"<br><br>
"They're seasonal!" You blink at Timo's reply, a reaction that he doesn't return, likely due to hearing this question from other leaders before. "The only complete collection of mage talents is the Council itself. While we're equipped to teach any and all talents that a mage shows, sometimes we just don't get those kinds of students. Lemme thiiiink... this school year we only have two Necromancy students, most of our Enchantment students are graduating this year, and the Chronomancy school is completely empty. We're also lacking a bit in the Divination department, since a lot of prospects go to Bitterbrook instead."<br><br>
The diversity of magic even rivals that of the traders who pass between nations, but what makes it more impressive is that they're all concentrated in a single place. Regardless of how you feel about the Magic Council, you must say that they've done a stellar job of uniting mages rather than separating them.<br><br>
"But I've said way too much about the Citadel! Tell me about those dragons you have over in Wevendh! Apparently their scales are suuuper rare now, and that's troublesome because I need a ton for research!"<br><br>
"I've never had one myself," You recall sadly sitting on a wooden replica of a dragon moved by several servants rather than having a living, breathing specimen beneath you. "No one has found an egg in ages, so to make up for it I've had to pour in as much research into them as our own historians. I have full faith that there is one just hiding in some crevice, and that when it hatches it will rise above Wevendh and we will return to glory once more."<br><br>
During your wistful recounting you failed to notice Timo's attention being grabbed away by something else, and by the time you do he's already next to a different table fiddling with different flasks.]
(else:)[Even during the evening when the room is devoid of anyone but the two of you, the flasks and fires do not cease in their movement. Several times you see one of the liquids start to bubble violently, rising dangerously close to the lip of the container, but they fall soon afterward; the fire beneath them simply disappears.<br><br>
Without a source of heat they stop bubbling quickly, but once again, before it can return to inert, the flames light themselves once more. The sight is even more impressive because this happens regardless of differences in timing. From what you understand, even Chromore has difficulties with automating systems thanks to differing conditions.<br><br>
"How does the fire know when to go out?" You say aloud.<br><br>
Before you can recant what you said as your thoughts overstepping, Timo's teacher side fires up once more. "That single question is what boggled mage's minds before they devised this setup. Simplifying a multiplex topic made up of different theorems intersecting, it has to do with mana difference. A boiling liquid in a container has a unique blend of mana than if it's outside its container, or no longer boiling. We just attune the fire to that specific blend and it adjusts itself."<br><br>
Not a solution that you can readily apply to Wevendh then, since your people aren't known for their magical capabilities. The information in of itself is valuable however, and you give Timo a soft smile as thanks.<br><br>
It's even sharper a contrast to the Chromoric solution than you thought. They calculate times precisely, margins of error and rigorous checking systems to ensure something runs as it should. The Citadel skips all of that entirely simply by following the rules of magic.<br><br>
It is little wonder that the two are constantly at odds with each other as their way of approaching problems, and probably what they even consider problems, are so starkly different.<br><br>
You'd like to muse further on the nations' relationship, but out of the corner of your eye you spot Timo wandering over to a table. With no hesitation or announcement he starts fiddling with some flasks.]}
Despite joining up with him quickly it's already too late to get him to stop, so you instead watch as he starts mixing a few liquids. His deft handling soon produces a pink liquid which fizzles and pops repeatedly before disappearing in a cloud of pink smoke.
"That was a love potion... just kidding! It's something I show off to non-magic users, starts all kinds of fun rumors that they actually believe in! You should try!"
You...
(link:"refuse to touch the potentially dangerous mixtures.")[(set:$dateChoice to 1)(goto:"TimoDateClass2")]
(link:"try making one on your own.")[(set:$dateScore to $dateScore+1)(set:$dateChoice to 2)(set:$timoDom to $timoDom+1)(goto:"TimoDateClass2")]
(link:"ask him to teach you to make those.")[(set:$dateScore to $dateScore+1)(set:$dateChoice to 3)(set:$timoSub to $timoSub+1)(goto:"TimoDateClass2")]The only reason you know it's a tower is because you're right in front of a window, letting you peer down at the mages streaming across the courtyard toward the castle itself. Very few stay outside for long, aside from nocturnal Diermies. In particular an owl Diermies leaning toward his beast side uses his large arm-wings to fly from one building to another, looking for someone.
The creak of a huge wooden door has you turning away from the sight, toward Timo standing in the now open doorway. Past him you can see an elegantly furnished room filled with almanacs and reagents. His fingers play over the edge of the door as he opens his mouth to speak.
{(if:$dateScore is 0)["That was no fun at all! I hate this dating thing. Maybe Klaus didn't want me to go on a field study so I could focus on better things!" He pouts. "Nevermind, I'll just discount this field study and finish the paper using the material. It's more fun."<br><br>
Having ruined the date with your own actions, you can't really argue otherwise.<br><br>
His mouth opens into a huge yawn, and both hands come up to rub his sleepy eyes. "Well, it was nice doing something with you at least, I guess. Uh, if your visit's over, I'm gonna go to sleep."<br><br>
Without waiting for a response he shuts the door, leaving you to find lodgings elsewhere.<br><br>
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]]
(elseif:$dateScore is 1)["That wasn't all bad, I guess. Still, I find it hard to believe that's what a date is supposed to be. I hope you don't mind I scrap this entire field study and just focus on the material? Oh, but thanks for taking me on one in the first place! Now I have something to contrast in my mind while I'm writing the paper!"<br><br>
Knowing full well you could've done better, you have no choice but to let him do what he pleases. "At least I helped you."<br><br>
He pulls you into a hug, but it's lacking the excitement and vibrance that Timo is knowing for. It's an entirely polite gesture, and when he pulls back you can see that he's glad it's over.<br><br>
His mouth opens into a huge yawn, and both hands come up to rub his sleepy eyes. "Thanks for your help. Uh, if your visit's over, I'm gonna go to sleep."<br><br>
He waits for you to turn and leave before he recommends a place to find lodging for the night and finally closing his door.<br><br>
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]
]
(elseif:$dateScore is 2)["There was a dull spot there, but overall I had a lot of fun! You were right, the material totally got a lot of things wrong! I knew field study was always the most efficient way of getting this paper together!"<br><br>
You smile brightly. "I'm glad I could help."<br><br>
His mouth starts opening in the beginnings of a huge yawn, but he forces it closed abruptly. It seems that he's fighting down sleepiness just to spend a little more time with you. As sweet as that is, you don't want to take up any of Timo's sleep time (especially since you have no idea what he's going to do tomorrow- imagine him falling dead asleep while meeting the Council, for example) and so you say your farewells.<br><br>
Before you can turn to leave however, Timo floats up to your height and plants a kiss on your lips. Blushing so fiercely he looks like a tomato, Timo scrambles back inside his room, yelling "Good night!" before slamming the door shut.<br><br>
You go to find lodgings elsewhere with a big smile stuck on your face.<br><br>
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]]
(elseif:$dateScore is 3)[(set:$timoSex to true)
"I had a ton of fun today! I wish you could've come around sooner so I knew what this felt like. I'm //supposed// to be working on a paper, but..."<br><br>
He looks down to his shoes, the inner struggle apparent in the way he shifts the weight between his feet, back and forth, back and forth, back and- he suddenly stops, eyes steeled.<br><br>
(if:$timoDom is > $timoSub)[He jumps up and yanks you down to his level by the collar of your garb, where he plants his lips on yours roughly. Bent down at an awkward angle, it makes it more difficult for you to act contrary to what Timo wants, so you don't. You melt into the sloppy kiss, opening your mouth and letting Timo dominate it completely with his tongue.<br><br>
When he finally releases you, gasping for breath and finally able to straighten your back, he's gone deeper into the room. Watching him, unsure of what to do, you stand there with spit running down the corner of your mouth- yours or his, you can't really tell.<br><br>
Crooking a finger you obey his unspoken order and enter, closing the door behind you. Stepping past furniture you barely see because your eyes are so focused on Timo, he leads you to the bedroom where he strips you of your clothes roughly. Doing the same to himself, the two of you stand naked together, his massive length dwarfing your own.<br><br>
"We've done all the theory, now it's time to apply it." Timo chuckles. "Before you ask, yes, I have researched this part too. Question is, do you want to (link:"top")[(set:$playerSubtop to $playerSubtop+1)(set:$playerTop to $playerTop+1)(goto:"TimoDateBottom")] or (link:"bottom")[(set:$playerSub to $playerSub+1)(set:$playerBottom to $playerBottom+1)(goto:"TimoDateTop")]?"
]
(else:)[Blushing fiercely enough to rival a tomato, even the dark freckles on his skin start to have trouble standing out from the red. "Can you... can you help me study sex?"<br><br>
Timo finally stands up straight, letting you see the raging erection that he's been hiding in his breeches. Because those things are ridiculously puffy, it only speaks to the length- and really, the width, since you can see the outline- of that monster.<br><br>
Of course, you can't just leave your date hanging, can you? Especially not when he's literally asking for it. Sweeping Timo into your arms you lift him up so you have easier access to his mouth, which you help yourself to with firm kisses.<br><br>
Timo falls into your control completely, nails already raking over your back in an attempt to give as much of himself as possible to you. Carrying your date to his bedroom and peeling off each layer of clothing he has, dancing your fingertips over the exposed skin each time, you're happy to oblige. He helps you do the same, and soon enough Timo is stuttering out a question.
"D-Do you want to (link:"top")[(set:$playerDom to $playerDom+1)(set:$playerTop to $playerTop+1)(goto:"TimoDateBottom")] or (link:"bottom")[(set:$playerPowerbottom to $playerPowerbottom+1)(set:$playerBottom to $playerBottom+1)(goto:"TimoDateTop")]?"
]
]
}(if:$timoSub is > $timoDom)[You doubt that you'd be able to keep the dominant position for very long with Timo's massive cock ready to pound either- no, both of your holes into submission, and you can't have that with Timo presenting himself so cutely for you to take.
"Do you have-" He flings a bottle at you, and thanks to combat training you catch it right before it clocks you in the face. Timo's meanwhile both trying to hide and present himself, making sure that his face is turned away but inadvertently showing off his fat cock swinging below his two cheeks. He climbs onto the bed in that compromising position and you take some time to take it all in before moving on.
Making sure to slather yourself well firstly, you soon join Timo on the bed. He watches you nervously, eyes flitting to his ass. Knowing exactly what he's expecting you instead grab his cock and start stroking roughly, causing his little hole to clench as he chokes out a moan. "Th-That's not where you're supposed to put the salve!"
"I decide where I put it, silly," you say but coat your finger in the sticky salve.
You sink your finger into him slowly, hissing lightly at the crushing pressure. You figured his hole would be matchingly small for his figure, but there's just so much resistance that it's hard to believe that he's had anything up there. Slowing your digit, you mull over the thought you just had. He hasn't even gone on a date. He... has no experience with sex either, does he? You're going to have to word this in a way that doesn't make him feel too shy.
Rubbing his walls in light circles, you try your best to relax him not only to get his hole prepared for you, but to ease him into your next question. "You haven't done any 'field research' about sex, have you?"
"You're not supposed to be able to tell! I read a ton of material because it's one of the areas I don't know that much about, but it's way too embarrassing asking random people!"
So Timo has a sense of shame, however small that may be. It just goes to show much he trusts you in telling you that, and now moreso when you're prodding your cock into his hole.
Even going slowly is a challenge as Timo's virgin hole struggles to accommodate you. Maybe if he were in control of the situation he could block some of the intense feeling with his exaggerated personality, but with the reins firmly in your hands there's not much he can do. His only outlets are his hands which grip and ungrip the sheet every few seconds, his back which flexes hard enough you start to see definition in his soft, and his legs which kick out cutely.
You can't help it. You grab his legs and keep them still as you thrust in deeper, watching them spasm in your hands and hearing Timo's once smooth moans shudder in time with them. Then, with a strong pull you force Timo to swallow the rest of you. He practically explodes into a moan this time, his legs shaking almost violently.
"Ah- Ah, ah!" Timo claws at the pillow that he'd just been dragged off of, but he never quite reaches it as you lock his legs behind you and start standing up. "H-Hang on, this is- I can't remember this if you- OOOH!"
Driving your length into him sharply, you chuckle at his cut-off sentence. Maybe he genuinely wants to study how sex works, but you couldn't care less with his hole clenching down on you so tightly. "You might not remember, but your hole definitely will."
Forced to support himself on his arms, Timo has even less control than before of his lower half. Completely at your mercy, every time you thrust, grind or even pull at his legs, his legs shake in anticipation. You always wait for them to stop before slamming the rest of your length in, relishing every second of Timo's drawn out moans afterward.
It's no wonder that he cums so soon, but you're not finished.
"N-Nooo, wait, that's too much! I'm gonna- Hnnngh!" Timo's eyes start rolling backward as you use his body like a sex toy, pulling back on him so roughly that he starts being lifted off the bed. The whole thing is sloppy and sticky, but your unfocused thrusts destroy Timo's walls all the same. "You're so rough!"
"That's the point!" Switching your grip to his hips you pull one bruisingly hard and last time. The scream Timo lets out is like music to your ears as you unload all you have into him.
And, when you're finished, you simply let go.
Without you to support him Timo actually keeps that position for a little bit longer, his legs having long since locked into place thanks to your ministrations. However, soon, his exhausted body gives out. His legs start dropping first, and his butt would follow the exact same if it weren't for your cock controlling its path.
His butt is forced to slide down your dick, leaving mottled white on it. It catches somewhat at your widened head, but gravity does its work and soon it pops free. As soon as it does, he drops right to the bed in a sweaty mess. You reach down his slap his butt, watching his clenching hole dribbling out some of the cum you just pumped into him.
Satisfied but exhausted, you lay down next to Timo and promptly fall asleep.
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]]
(elseif:$timoDom is > $timoSub)
["Get on the bed and gimme your cock!"
You can't help but flinch at Timo's forwardness, but given the fact that he had his tongue down your throat a few minutes ago, and his hand is currently slapping across your ass like he already owns it, you're in no position to argue.
Gulping, you climb onto the rowan-framed bed and watch as Timo produces a salve from underneath his bed that seems well used. He holds it over his gigantic cock out of habit before realizing his mistake, finally turning around and letting the liquid run down the small of his back and in between his firm cheeks. He makes sure you're watching as he massages the salve into his hole, although from his fumbling fingers you can tell that he's inexperienced doing this.
Timo is hardly one to admit defeat however, and once he actually has his fingers in his hole he spreads himself open with little difficulty. It seems like he's much more used to topping traditionally, but saw this as a perfect excuse to 'study' the other side.
After putting the salve messily on your dick he throws the container away haphazardly, climbing on top of you and sneaking one last kiss before rising to a squat. Gripping your dick tightly by the base, he refuses to even blink as he sinks down onto you. As soon as you make even the slightest sound, his expression turns strange.
"Oh, so it looks and sounds like this. What if I-" Without finishing his sentence and he shoots downward, his fat cock flopping with the sudden movement. You make the same noise but in a higher pitched keen, and your hands shoot to his hips. "Wow! Is that reaction automatic? Need to study that more."
And he does. Without fail he replicates his last action exactly, but you obviously have a different reaction. There's so many places to grip, so many ways to moan that he has no end of fun just squeezing the noises out of you. It gets to a point where you have to beg him to move or you're going to blow your load.
"Already? Fiiiine!" Timo sinks all the way down and you nearly cum on the spot, but being unused to it, he lets out a huge breathy moan. With neither of you moving you both take the time to recover. "Okay, let's start the study proper."
Having sex with Timo is //exhausting//. He's constantly barking orders at you, and your arms burn from having to rub 'round his perky nipples, put fingers in his mouth so he can suck on them, jerk his cock, the list goes on and on. It's like every second Timo thinks of something new that he just has to experience, and instead of doing it himself he gives you the responsibility.
It's not like you have a choice, either. Whenever you stop so does he, slamming his hips down and squeezing so hard that you start seeing stars. However, by the time your fried brain gets your crotch to raise, his crushing tightness has loosened. You try thrusting up once, twice, but it's never quite like when he's working your dick.
So, willing your burning arms to move, you obey. In return, Timo starts moving again, and your mind starts to switch off. Instead of focusing on the burn, your thoughts drift only to the undulating grip that Timo does without rhyme or reason, sending unpredictable jolts of pleasure down your spine.
"I'm- I'm close!" You moan out, earning a growl from Timo.
He speeds up, but it's distinctly not for your own pleasure. He shakes and twists but forces himself down, putting his hands on your chest for leverage each time as his composure starts breaking down. Through your own bleary eyes you see him almost reach his limit, only to stop for one last maddening moment.
"I'm not moving until I see my cum all over your face."
Your hands wrap around his beast of a cock and start stroking, sweating even harder than before because it's not only your arms working against you, but the pleasure steadily fading from your crotch. The fear of Timo just leaving without letting you get off, or worse, using it as more 'study' opportunity hangs heavy on your head until-
The first spurt of many hits your cheek, almost burning hot in its streak.
Not only is Timo packing, his balls are packing in equal measure. Fat strings of pearly white spray all over your face, and you can barely open your eyes. The mound of cum is soon jostled out of place and forces you to close your eyes when Timo makes good on his word and hammers his hips down on yours.
You moan together, his of overstimulation and yours of orgasmic pleasure. When your hoarse throat lets out its last groan, you pass out.
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]]{(if:$dateChoice is 1)["That was no good? I thought for sure I had it down... Well, I have to defer to the more knowledgable. The Council's always telling me 'Timo that's not how that's done', 'Timo if you eat too much your stomach will be upset', or 'Timo for the love of the gods deactivate that cannon or it'll destroy this room' and they're usually right! Don't tell them I said that though, Klaus would use it to tell me not to do stuff more often!"<br><br>
You can't help but give a snort just imagining the sort of trouble Timo must get into on a regular basis. He seems mischievous, but really, he's probably just curious to a fault. All he needs is a firm hand- although less firm than the Council's, which he seems averse to.<br><br>
"You're following the steps, but it's less of a recipe and more of a performance. Look, I'll demonstrate." Picking up a tart slice this time, you once again show it off like you're the head of the dining hall. It's no wonder that heads turn this time when your teeth split the tart and one of the berries on top, a perfect drop of juice running down the side of your mouth.<br><br>
"What! I wanted that one!" Leave it to Timo to focus on the tart instead.<br><br>
Well, you'll give him what he wants. Turning the slice around you offer it to Timo, who lurches forward like a starving dog- before he stops suddenly, blushing. He repeats his slower attempt a bit quicker this time, but the cuteness has only intensified since the last. He's so obviously unsure of himself, but he's pretending that he isn't.<br><br>
He never really improves as the both of you you go through all of the sweets. Timo gets drinks to wash the saccharine taste down, although predictably he gets orange juice for himself. It's only after that that he acts up again.<br><br>
Timo's breath catches in his throat. "Wait a minute, this is one of those indirect kiss things I read about, isn't it!"<br><br>
Chuckling lightly, you reach for his hand. "Maybe I'll tell you in a different spot."<br><br>
Taking your hand excitedly, you're transported to...]
(elseif:$dateChoice is 2)["Ohhh. I think I get it now!" He picks up the biscuit you just spat out and holds it up with a sweet smile. "Open up, I'm gonna feed you!"<br><br>
The awkward phrasing aside, you do as he says. Unlike earlier, he doesn't jam it in at the earliest possible opportunity, a marked improvement. He holds eye contact for a solid few seconds... before the biscuit is slammed into your mouth once more. Out of instinct you chew, trying not to distract any of the people around you any further while waiting for a chance to complain.<br><br>
Turns out that it never comes. Timo, in his excitement, keeps filling your mouth before you can finish the previous sweet. At first you have more than half a mind to scold your date intensely for doing what he feels like, but as he goes on you can't bring yourself to crush the mounting pride that he develops.<br><br>
Surely going along with his whim isn't that bad of a thing to do, especially since you're on a date. The point of going on one is to see a person as they are, and Timo is unapologetically himself.<br><br>
You only stop when he runs out of sweets, and you thankfully stay his hand before he can order someone else to give him more. You move to wipe away the crumbs and cream that ended up lining your lips, but another hand beats you to it.<br><br>
With a tip of his finger Timo sweeps it all away, gathering the semi-solid mixture in a small tuft. He pops it into his mouth with no shame, topping it all off with a smile.<br><br>
"How about that? Full marks?" Timo says, brimming with self-confidence.<br><br>
"Let's just move on to another place," you say shortly before your hand is grabbed and you're transported to...]
(elseif:$dateChoice is 3)[Timo's expression hardens and he turns his head away, tucking his arms into each other with a huff. If that weren't enough, he tilts his head back, using his hat as a barrier between the two of you. "You're such a killjoy! Are you sure you weren't paid off by Klaus or something? Go ahead and tell him that he might as well just have gone on this date himself so he can nag and nag and nag!"<br><br>
Timo's outburst draws the attention of the other people sitting in the hall. They have a variety of reactions toward Timo specifically, but only one toward you: rising distrust. You need to salvage this date, and quick.<br><br>
Looking to save face you try reasoning with your date. "That's not what I meant. You just can't-"<br><br>
"I can do anything if I put my mind to it!" Timo snaps back, raising his head even higher. Although you can't quite see it due to the huge brim blocking your view, you can tell that he's also buried his hands deeper against his sides.<br><br>
Sighing, you fall back on the one thing you know he enjoyed. You scoot the plate closer to him. His big show of looking away crumbles quickly when he looks at the sweets. Eventually, he gives in.<br><br>
"You're lucky I don't like wasting food, or else you'd be eating this all alone!" He goes at the plate with a vengeance, using it as an outlet for his anger, although you swear when he looks up at you that he's also doing it to prove his point about food. It's... a weird sight.<br><br>
"I'll do better in another spot, okay? Let's go somewhere else."<br><br>
When Timo grabs your arm it's with an open palm, your skin stinging lightly under his grasp. Before you can say anything, you're transported to...]}
{
(if:$dateCount is 3)
[(link:"A tower.")[(goto:"TimoBedroom")]]
(else:)
[
(unless:$dateLocation1 is "Garden")
[(unless:$dateLocation2 is "Garden")
[(link:"A garden.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation2 to "Garden")(goto:"TimoDateGarden")]<br>
]
(else:)
[(link:"A garden.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation1 to "Garden")(goto:"TimoDateGarden")]<br>
]
]
(unless:$dateLocation1 is "Class")
[(unless:$dateLocation2 is "Class")
[(link:"A classroom.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation2 to "Class")(goto:"TimoDateClass")]
]
(else:)
[(link:"A classroom.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation1 to "Class")(goto:"TimoDateClass")]
]
]
]
}
{(if:$dateChoice is 1)["Oh... That's, well, I guess that's okay." Timo's shoulders slump as he continues playing around with the different flasks. Each time he does something new or interesting he turns to you, but his face always falls before he can say something.<br><br>
At first you stick to your guns, especially since the thought of an errant explosion seems not only possible with Timo around, but likely. He even spoke about changing a base to create a bigger explosion. If that's capable of knocking out basically an entire wing of classrooms, you don't want to be caught dead in that blast- quite literally, because magical explosions tend to be more potent to the living than the inanimate.<br><br>
However, as Timo goes around the tables, even using some of the recipes he finds on the loose leaves scrawled by students, none of them ever explode. In fact, some of them produce interesting effects, such as one concoction that begins to float upward and refuses to stop, and in the end is bottled by Timo floating up to it himself, bottling it with a downward-held flask.<br><br>
You start wanting badly to ask what they are, but your standoffishness earlier doesn't allow you to.<br><br>
By the end of it all, you feel pretty stupid for turning down his offer on a date. Aren't those supposed be exactly when you try something new?<br><br>
"Can we try somewhere else new?"<br><br>
Timo breathes a sigh of relief and hastily teleports the two of you away, to...]
(elseif:$dateChoice is 2)[Utilizing blind confidence and a daredevil nature you pick flasks at random. Timo immediately signals his approval with an 'Ooooh'.<br><br>
"How about I teach you a thing or two?" You say with a cavalier smile. Timo's excited clapping as he takes a seat on one of the counters is all that you need to continue, and you do so with gusto.<br><br>
Of course, without any frame of reference or idea, your first mixture fails to do anything. It ends up an ugly brown mixture that smells faintly of peppers. Rather than laughing at the result Timo watches on with a big grin on his face, so you try again. Each time you fail a little less spectacularly, but Timo never stops being supportive. When it finally starts wearing at your confidence, he cheers you up with a "You can do it!"<br><br>
You realize at some point that the glass containers you hold change colors, and some of the ones you held just earlier are in a small group behind Timo. He's been removing them from time to time from his seat, likely floating them away before you could notice.<br><br>
Shortly after that you manage to replicate Timo's pink potion, gasping when it actually disappears in a cloud of pink smoke. Timo hops off the potion bouncing in excitement.<br><br>
"Couldn't have done it without you," you say when Timo looks over the now-empty glass.<br><br>
"Maybe so, but you deserve the credit more."<br><br>
You gesture to the flasks he removed. "Then what's all this?"<br><br>
"A lot of the student mages lose confidence after the first few failures. They start worrying too much about the details, and they lose sight of the big picture. What you did right there was stay determined, and I really like that about you! All I did was make sure we didn't explode."<br><br>
You can't help but smile at that. "Alright. Shall we go somewhere else?"<br><br>
Grabbing your hand, you find yourself transported to...]
(elseif:$dateChoice is 3)["I'm super talented and all but I don't usually handle Alchemy classes... But what the heck, you're my date! I'll give you personal instruction custom tailored to you!"<br><br>
By custom tailored he means stepping behind you and physically putting his hands on yours to guide you, like that of a puppet. The warmth and weight on your back makes your cheeks color slightly, but confusion quickly creeps in.<br><br>
Timo's incredibly short, after all.<br><br>
Looking behind you, you realize that he's perfectly on your level. At least, his head is, smiling at you knowingly. He looks downward, at the empty space between the floor and his feet. If that weren't already obvious enough, you feel the fabric of your trousers drifting slightly, blown by the breeze Timo created around his boots.<br><br>
"This was one of the first spells I learned. Nothing like shocking a guy who wants to pick on us short ones! And then giving him some magical punishment," he says with a laugh that would have been eerie had it not come from Timo, who gives it a more adorable twist thanks to his face.<br><br>
"A lot of people look up to you now."<br><br>
"You're damn right! You included!" In a funny gesture, he inches further up into the air, until his head peeks up above yours. He quickly goes back down however. "But if I go too high I won't be able to teach, sooo-"<br><br>
He then shows you how to do exactly what he made, but honestly speaking, very little of it is absorbed in your mind. It's hard to concentrate when the scent of citrus is so close toward you, the pleasant warmth from Timo seeping more and more into your back until you feel like you're sharing the same core. Your mind continues to wander, wondering what it would be like to<br><br>
"You got all that?" Timo says, his face almost rubbing against yours.<br><br>
"Yeah," you say in a muted fashion. "Uh, can we go somewhere else now?"<br><br>
Already in close contact with you, Timo is able to transport you to...]}
{
(if:$dateCount is 3)
[(link:"A tower.")[(goto:"TimoBedroom")]]
(else:)
[
(unless:$dateLocation1 is "Garden")
[(unless:$dateLocation2 is "Garden")
[(link:"A garden.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation2 to "Garden")(goto:"TimoDateGarden")]<br>
]
(else:)
[(link:"A garden.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation1 to "Garden")(goto:"TimoDateGarden")]<br>
]
]
(unless:$dateLocation1 is "Hall")
[(unless:$dateLocation2 is "Hall")
[(link:"A dining hall.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation2 to "Hall")(goto:"TimoDateDine")]
]
(else:)
[(link:"A dining hall.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation1 to "Hall")(goto:"TimoDateDine")]
]
]
]
}{(if:$dateChoice is 1)[Years of training kick in as your footing loses more and more stability as you dash forward. Instead of toppling forward onto your face, you use all of that uncertain momentum to dig your heel in one last time before you leap forward.<br><br>
Flying through the air you once again point your heel, your jaw locked tight. You manage to land directly in front of Timo, and his bewildered eyes meet yours. Although that moment feels like eternity, time hardly stops. It's all too soon that you feel yourself lurching forward, and your arms wrapping around Timo's much smaller figure.<br><br>
Hugging him close to you, you lift him as much as possible to soften the blow of the ground. Your heart thrums as you anticipate the harsh crack of wood against your arms, but all that comes is a dull thud. Shocked, you fling your eyes open and realize that Timo's right there beneath you.<br><br>
You're so close that your breaths intermingle, Timo's softer and shallower exhales brushing against your face. With your chests pressed against each other, you can feel his heartbeat thumping furiously, and it isn't long before your own heart matches it. Timo can't stop staring at your face however, and you soon realize it's because your lips hang precariously close to his. If you even tilt your head to look down you might end up giving him a light, brushing kiss.<br><br>
The two of you scramble backward from each other and rise shyly. Timo pretends that that didn't happen by excitedly showing you the spot he was talking about, a massive hollow in one of the trees. While the level of damage would usually be killer to the tree, a combination of magical resistance and caretaking has allowed the tree to continue living. There is furniture here, set up for a two-person conversation.<br><br>
However, neither of you can really focus on the marvel. Both of your gazes keep drifting to each other's lips.<br><br>
Perhaps annoyed by his own urges, this time it's Timo who suggests to move onward. You nod, noting how gently he holds your hand when he teleports you to...]
(elseif:$dateChoice is 2)[Looking to preserve your own safety in this rough terrain you decide not to help Timo, instead planting your feet firmly on one particularly slippery root. You watch as Timo unceremoniously plants on his face- quite literally, as he manages to fall on a particularly dense patch of vegetables.<br><br>
"Owwww..." Timo stands up slowly, looking around. When he sees you so far away from him, he huffs and puffs angrily. "You didn't even try to help me!?"<br><br>
"I'm not risking that," you say blankly.<br><br>
"You could've at least came up to me slowly and asked if I was okay!" He practically barks at you, still steaming mad. When he words it like that you do see how bad it reflects on you. "I don't even wanna bring you to the place now!"<br><br>
The animals seem to take Timo's side in the matter, and the once quiet garden erupts in a cacophony of squawks. The leaves on the trees rustle separately from the animals as though something big within the canopy is moving. Even the human-like vegetables start groaning in tandem. Unwilling to face the wrath of an entire magical garden, you're forced to apologize.<br><br>
"Look, I'm sorry, I just thought I'd be the one eating dirt if I went any faster."<br><br>
"I would've helped," Timo says as he puffs out his cheeks, making the ground beneath you shudder. Oh gods, now you're tempting Timo to hurt you too. Since you have a keen interest in living, you continue.<br><br>
"Fine, fine! I wasn't thinking properly. Since you don't want me knowing what this place is, how's about we try somewhere else?"<br><br>
Timo sulks and mutters something about how this place would've been cool, but nonetheless stomps over to you and grabs your hand a bit harder than he did the first time. Teleporting away, you end up at a...]
(elseif:$dateChoice is 3)[Keeping your eyes on Timo turns out to be a bad idea, as you soon find yourself lurching forward. Your arms mill about trying to find purchase, but having fallen away from the trees, you find no such assistance.<br><br>
Closing your eyes and bracing for impact, you wait for some delicate part of yourself to hit the wooden roots that litter the entire place, but when you hit the ground it's... fluffy?<br><br>
Flinging your eyes open you confirm that you've landed on what appears to be a mass of white fluff. Bearing a striking resemblance to what drifts high in the sky above, you place a hand on it experimentally. It can hold the natural weight just fine, but when you press down on it your fingers sink in to the wet core.<br><br>
"Careful there!" Timo says, spinning on his heel. You assumed he was on a root just like you were, but he's standing on a grassy knell devoid of the twisted roots. Replaying what you saw as you fell in your mind, you realize that he was simply jumping forward.<br><br>
"Thanks." You sit up, marveling at the creation beneath you. "What is this?"<br><br>
"A cloud! You would think Water and Wind together would just make a mess, but if you know how to concentrate it correctly you get a nice little platform!" He beckons the cloud toward him, the elemental mixture obeying readily as it floats. "The only problem is I haven't quite figured out how to make it go down without making it disappear completely."<br><br>
Just as he says that the cloud disappears, leaving you screaming as you hurtle toward the ground. All of a sudden Timo rockets toward you and in fact passes you, at least until he catches hold of you from above. Using expert wind magic he slows your descent until you tap the ground, softer than if you had just laid down.<br><br>
More importantly than that however, Timo is sitting on top of you. Almost lying down on you in fact, as he bends forward to examine you closer. Your eyes can't help but dart to his lips as they start closing the gap, stopping just short of planting directly on yours. Then, as suddenly as it started, it ends. Timo gets off of you with a devious smile.<br><br>
"You gave me some data there! Unrelated to dates, but it's great! Anyway, I think we spent a little too long here. I can show you the place another time. Let's go somewhere else so you can calm down, okay?"<br><br>
Still rattled by the experience, you nod and let yourself be teleported to...]}
{
(if:$dateCount is 3)
[(link:"A tower.")[(goto:"TimoBedroom")]]
(else:)
[
(unless:$dateLocation1 is "Class")
[(unless:$dateLocation2 is "Class")
[(link:"A classroom.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation2 to "Class")(goto:"TimoDateClass")]<br>
]
(else:)
[(link:"A classroom.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation1 to "Class")(goto:"TimoDateClass")]<br>
]
]
(unless:$dateLocation1 is "Hall")
[(unless:$dateLocation2 is "Hall")
[(link:"A dining hall.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation2 to "Hall")(goto:"TimoDateDine")]
]
(else:)
[(link:"A dining hall.")
[(set:$dateCount to $dateCount+1)(set:$dateLocation1 to "Hall")(goto:"TimoDateDine")]
]
]
]
}(if:$timoSub is > $timoDom)
[Climbing onto the bed first, you make yourself comfortable and pile several pillows beneath you. You're going to be carrying his weight the entire time, so there's no reason not to get comfortable. It has the added effect of adding to Timo's nervousness, which you drink in indulgently for a little time. Not too long though, since you //do// want to be fucked.
"You have salve, right?"
Timo nods and reaches underneath the bed, where he produces a container. Seeing some of the liquid missing off the top clues you in to the fact that Timo may not have experience with other people, but does have experience with himself.
"How about you get ready the usual way?"
Timo looks at you, bewildered that you knew what he does. He doesn't complain however and dumps a good amount of salve on his monstrous cock, getting it nice and lubed up. He moves to toss the salve but you shake your head and gesture for him to come closer.
Still brimming with nervousness Timo outright shrieks when you grab his hand, returning to tomato mode when you lick a long streak up his pointer finger. You pause at the top, teasing your bottom lip along his nail like you're going to suck it, only to lay back down on the pillows comfortably. Cheekily, you say "You have the salve. Put it on your fingers and open me up."
It seems that Timo has experience with this as well, as though it takes a while for him to get used to the sight of your hole, it takes no time at all for him to work you open. He even knows a few tricks that have you shivering, but your impassive expression wins out and he's soon sinking his cock into you.
"Go slowly. Just let it slide in, never letting your body take over... Oh gods, just like that-" Your breath hitches in your throat as Timo does exactly what you say. You can just tell by the way his hips shake that he wants so badly to do more, to give into his body's urges and pound into you. Reaching forward, you cup his face with your hand. "Not yet. If you don't follow instructions I'll subtract points, and we don't want that, do we? Now stop. Just stay there."
The way he frowns is just so cute that you can't help but moan, and when you squeeze that frown only gets deeper and deeper. It becomes almost like a game, knowing exactly where Timo's limit is and prodding at it, tempting him to cave into his own desires before snatching him right back.
When he starts groaning and moving those small hips of his in little fidgets you know that he wants to pound you, so you give him a pat on the head and let him move //slowly//. It hands the reins firmly back to you, because as heavenly as the sensation of his cock dragging your walls back and forth is, you derive more pleasure in seeing Timo's plight. Meanwhile Timo constantly worries about your words, wanting to shut his eyes and focus on the pleasure but forcing them open each time to make sure he's pleasing you instead.
"$fName, please- ugh, please, can I go faster?" His voice drips with desperation.
"Mmm," you hum, basking in the sheer want that radiates off of Timo's sweaty body. "Fine."
Even with permission the command lingers, and instead of absolutely destroying your prostate (which he could absolutely do with his cock already rubbing against it), he keeps a steady pace that he settles for rather than taking what his body really wants. It really cements the thought that you've trained Timo in just your first coupling, and it's all too easy to be pleasured by the thought.
"I-I'm getting close!"
"Stop."
Your command gets a whine from Timo, but you shut it down by cupping his face again. "I said stop."
Teary-eyed Timo nods, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. You can tell that he really wasn't lying when he said he was getting close- hell, he's just about ready to burst. You figure that you've bullied him enough, and besides, it's about time that you got filled properly.
"Good boy. Now fuck me as you please."
Despite how the entirety of your lovemaking has gone up to this point, when Timo is allowed to hammer your hole, you start moaning uncontrollably. It's not exactly easy powerbottoming when your partner has such an ass-destroying tool between his legs- and now, between yours. You never fully lose control however, because before Timo can assert himself against you he throws his head back and moans, dumping his load inside you.
Jerking yourself off to the warm feeling filling your guts, you finish just before Timo falls on top of you. Following your exhausted date, your eyes close and you fall asleep.
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]]
(elseif:$timoDom is > $timoSub)
[You just can't stop staring at his gargantuan member, that sexual equipment likely to break in whatever hole it enters. A hand reaches down and grips its base, waggling the thick piece of meat back and forth. Embarrassingly you realize that your eyes tracked it, and when you finally tear your eyes away from it, Timo is watching you with a mischievous grin.
"I never needed field research to know this gives me a huge advantage. I didn't really need to ask what I did earlier, we both know where this is going."
Timo climbs onto the bed first and gets himself comfortable, going so far as to put his arms behind his head. It's entirely on purpose of course, as you find your eyes wandering from his freckled face and shoulders to his nipples to... his gigantic cock, once again. You sigh to yourself. Timo's completely right, there's only one way this can go.
You make to get onto the bed next, but Timo interrupts you. "Hang on. There's some salve underneath the bed. Get it, 'research partner'."
The sarcastic nickname stings a little, but you dutifully retrieve the container, noting that it's not completely full. You gulp. With Timo's bravado it's unlikely that he used it with his backside, so this means that even without having dated before... he knows what he's doing while topping. With the salve now in hand you climb onto the bed.
"Now normally I'd just tell you to put it on you then put it on me, but that's no fun. There's a ton of that in all the papers I went through, and it's not like me to just follow that. I have a much more fun idea! Put it right over your butt. Let it drip down."
You highly doubt that he intends to lube up your cheeks, so you drop a healthy stream from above the gap in between, after Timo tells you to turn around so he can get a better look. Timo gestures you to do even more however, and you obey. Shivering as the thick liquid coats your hole and continues to drip down, you finally get instructions on what you're doing.
"Now slide my dick through them!"
Blushing fiercely at the mere image of it, you get even redder when you actually back your ass up and feel the length forcing your cheeks apart. It's so awkward at first, trying to find a good angle just to slide, constantly with the knowledge that you're pleasuring someone much larger than you hanging over your head and making your movements all the stiffer.
That's not the only thing getting stiffer as Timo's cock continues to rise, straightening as it hardens. When it finally straightens all the way you have a much easier time sliding up and down, but it comes with a caveat of the lewdest, most explicit squelching sounds you've heard outside of actual sex.
It's a smart idea logistically, coating Timo's dick as it passes through and rubbing it directly into your hole. In effect however it's extremely embarrassing especially when you feel a much hotter liquid coating your butt as you go on. Even without looking you know that it's pre, because even on the giving end of this buttjob you're hard as a rock and leaking. Before long you can't take it anymore and you look behind you at Timo for further instruction.
"What do you want me to do? You gotta say it out loud, or else I can't put it in the paper."
"We can move on, c-can't we?"
Timo looks up to the ceiling like he's thinking about it. "Huh? What do you mean? Again, if you're not specific about this I can't help you. What if by moving on you mean you want to keep doing this until I cum? That'll take a long, long time, but if it means I can keep those cheeks around me I'll take it."
"Fuck me! Please fuck me!" You say, shivering in humiliation.
"Gladly," Timo says before he repositions his cock directly at your hole. With the amount of lubrication on the two of you, even his cock is swallowed up by your body in just one long slide. Just because it slides in well doesn't mean your body can actually handle it though.
Electric jabs of pleasure run from your spine to every part of your body, until every part of you feels like an erogenous zone. Even though Timo isn't actually touching you with his hands, they're still behind his head, when he flexes his cock in you it feels like he's touching you all over, shooting even more pleasure into your addled system.
It only worsens- no, gets //better// when Timo thrusts up and into you. It forces your hips to get into motion, and before you know it you're mindlessly bouncing up and down on him. It's the exact same motion you made during the buttjob, only this time there's a huge plug inside of you that throbs and thrusts and hits your prostate more times than you would care to count.
"Already at my limit?" Timo says with a grunt. "Guess that first part took a lot more out of me than I thought it would... Need to note that for the next time."
His hands finally move to your hips, and all of his energy goes into slamming you down on his meat while driving his hips upward. Because this is Timo his boundless energy translates into ridiculous speed, and with your prostate ground to dust you have no choice but to cum, doubly so when his hot warmth spurts inside of you- and he refuses to stop even though he's cumming, pushing his seed in and out of you.
When he finally stops you carefully lift yourself off on wobbly legs and see your gaping hole unable to stop the flow pumped into you, before your legs give out and you pass out next to Timo.
[[The next day...->TimoDateAftermath]]]{(if:$dateScore is 3)[When you wake, your clothes are neatly folded next to you and topped off with a hastily written note. 'I'll be at the fountain', it reads. You take some time to deal with any spots of soreness you have before dressing once more and returning to the fountains.<br><br>
Just like when you first met him, Timo is laying down on the rim of the fountain, although instead of napping he appears to be waiting anxiously. When his eyes settle on you, they blink not out of sleep weariness but out of recognition- and happiness.<br><br>
"I'm so glad you got the note! I considered putting it on your face, but then I was so worried that you would blow it away when you snore or eat it when you sleep! Klaus tells me that lots of mages die because they leave messy papers around their room! Jokes on him cause I just make sure that my bed is clear and mess everything else up, hehehe!"<br><br>
You decide not to comment on Timo's fake and exaggerated laugh and instead pull him into a hug. The red robes around widen their eyes, but they soon look away. Plausible deniability and all. Maybe in their eyes you just became friends. The truth is a lot more fun than that, fortunately.]
(elseif:$dateScore is 2)[When you wake, you spot a hastily written note left on your pillow. 'I'll be at the fountain', it reads. Smiling softly at the memory of the kiss you received yesterday, you take your time preparing and eating breakfast before venturing out to the fountains once more.<br><br>
Just like when you first met him, Timo is laying down on the rim of the fountain, and although he is half-asleep it seems he's keeping himself up trying to wait for you. When his eyes settle on you, they blink not out of sleep weariness but out of recognition- and happiness.<br><br>
"I'm so glad you got the note! I considered putting it on your face, but then I was so worried that you would blow it away when you snore or eat it when you sleep! Klaus tells me that lots of mages die because they leave messy papers around their room! Jokes on him cause I just make sure that my bed is clear and mess everything else up, hehehe!"<br><br>
You decide not to comment on Timo's fake and exaggerated laugh and instead pull him into a hug. The red robes around widen their eyes, but they soon look away. Maybe in their eyes you just became friends. You went a step further than that, fortunately.]
(elseif:$dateScore is 1)[When you wake, it's almost like nothing happened yesterday. Despite going out on a date with the Praecantator, you still feel as out-of-place as when you first arrived. Nowhere is this fact reflected as much as when you realize that Timo didn't bother telling you his whereabouts at all.<br><br>
You go through the process of asking around once again, only to find that he's gone back to his usual haunt of the fountains. Thanking the mages who pointed you there, you head there swiftly.<br><br>
Just like when you first met him, Timo is not only napping, he is waking from one. It really does appear that you've set back to near zero when he greets you neutrally.]
(else:)[When you wake, it's almost like nothing happened yesterday. Despite going out on a date with the Praecantator, you still feel as out-of-place as when you first arrived. Nowhere is this fact reflected as much as when you realize that Timo didn't bother telling you his whereabouts at all.<br><br>
You go through the process of asking around once again, only to find that he's gone back to his usual haunt of the fountains. Thanking the mages who pointed you there, you head there swiftly.<br><br>
Just like when you first met him, Timo is outright napping. However, this time he's completely asleep, showing no sign of waking. You have to put your hand on his shoulder gently to wake him, and when he gets a look at your face he frowns. "Oh, it's you."<br><br>
You ignore the scathing comment with a tight-lipped expression.]}
"Anyway, since we're here and all, did you have something else to talk about with me?"
"I'd like to talk about allying with your nation."
"Do you know where my brother is?"
(link: '"Can I take your hand in marriage?"')[(if:$dateScore is >2)[(set: $playerSeduce to $playerSeduce+1)(goto:"TimoPropose")](else:)[(goto:"TimoReject")]]"Wow! That's... that's really something." Timo tips the brim of his hat down, clearly uncertain about how to proceed. It takes a worrying amount of time for him to tip it back up, but when he does, you see that those orange eyes of his have hardened in determination. "I really, //really// like the idea of marriage, but isn't it like a longer version of dating? I'm not going to lie to you, the date you took me on was really bad. I don't think I can handle another one of those, let alone one that goes for years and years! Sorry, but I just can't accept."
The red robes around try their best to pretend like they didn't hear of it, but it's clear from their cringes that they heard every part of your complete rejection.
"Well, shit," you say under your breath. "Nevermind. I actually wanted to talk to you about...
our nations allying."
where my brother might be."Choose your leader:
(link:"Timo Feysepp")[
Is Timo dominant, or submissive?
(link:"Dominant")[(set: $timoDom to 3)Is Timo (link:"top")[(goto:"TimoDateTop")] or (link:"bottom")[(goto:"TimoDateBottom")]?]
(link:"Submissive")[(set: $timoSub to 3)Is Timo (link:"top")[(goto:"TimoDateTop")] or (link:"bottom")[(goto:"TimoDateBottom")]?]
]The offer of learning more about not only the going-ons of the palace but the Miraim himself is tempting for any ruler, but the fact of the matter is that you just don't know enough. You are afforded some leeway as a foreign ruler, but there are some taboos that even people of your status cannot ignore.
The problem is that you know the basic conduct of Seridazar, but nothing of the Miraim's harem. One might not think a harem would be important, but if they are held in high esteem by the Miraim, who is held on an entirely different level of reverence you saw earlier, it stands to reason that they could have a similar level of respect given to them.
In practical terms, you don't want to damage your relationship with the Miraim just because you got too close to his harem.
So, turning to the guard and nodding firmly, you allow yourself to be escorted away from the palace's outermost rooms.
Now that you are within the complex itself, it reverts to the concentric ring design of the city outside, meaning that only the outermost ring juts out with those triangular rooms. Although they differ in shape and function, they share the commonality of lacking a ceiling, and more often than not there are even more members of the harem in various states of undress conversing among themselves.
There is no time to examine the rooms further however, learning only through momentary glances as you match the guard's brisk pace.
When at last you arrive at the most central building, you are faced with the most intricate building in the entire city. Just about every inch of the walls are meticulously inscribed with depictions of the Miraim and his many accomplishments, intermingled with imagery of scorpions, beetles, flowers and the sun. Although most of the inscriptions escape your understanding, the sights of a fearsome group of archers on horses in one series and an angered armored figure with prominent antlers in another are unmistakable.
One thing that strikes you is that there is no door.
The guard, undaunted, simply comes up to the wall and, reaching forward, the bricks themselves start rearranging. No- not simply rearranging, as you cannot see them as they move behind others. They are simply disappearing in yellow light as they unfurl in a four-cornered spiral.
Before long the doorway is open to you, and you step inside the very [[heart->SeridazarGuardEscort2]] of the Miraim's domain.With the doorway closing behind you, you don't expect nearly the amount of open space that the entrance hall actually presents. You knew that the Miraim was fond of it given the lack of ceilings outside, but as your eyes follow the fluttering silks that stretch on and on toward the very top of the three-story high roof, you marvel at the feeling of openness starting in your chest.
Despite being a nearly completely enclosed space the long trails of silk sway to and fro, and although you are tempted to say that their ends are revolving you soon learn that that is not the case. A cool breeze drifts across your hair and face, and even the incredible heat you've endured up until now seems to fade away.
You're not nearly familiar enough with cooling systems to know how that effect is done- you live high upon the mountains where the air itself is cold, and you're much more concerned with conserving heat than expelling it. You do suspect that some magical power is at play here however.
There are so many things you want to investigate further such as the balconies that overlook the hall, the passages that lead off to the sides, and especially the large fountain in the center, whose bottom seems to be sloping at an angle-
Nothing to do but endure it until you meet the Miraim himself, and hopefully you'll be able to investigate the palace as you wish.
A feat easier said than done, as even your brother was never able to go about the palace as he wished.
Passing through the main hallway you are immediately surruounded by walls that seem to be made entirely of plants from first glance. The length of the hallway provides you ample time to confirm that, despite how lush and vibrant the greenery is, they are not actually growing from the wall, or even the floor for that matter. Each plant is held in a hanging pot and simply overflows, leaves and vines alike largely hanging downwards. Combined with many, //many// neighboring pots, the plants form the pseudo-wall you see.
At the very end of the hall, at the largest door thus far, the guard makes his leave of you. With no other direction than forward, you push the roughened door open.
[[Continue.->ZiatetMeet]]"At last you have arrived. (if:$endCount is >5)[Although you cannot possibly compare to my brilliance, you are one of the few whose gazes do not sully my glorious form. Very well! You have earned some modicum of respect. The honor you receive is unparalleled, as I have given it!"](elseif:$endCount is >2)[Among nations, Seridazar is most worthy of respect. How dare you approach it so late, then? Has fear gripped you so tightly that you cannot pay tribute? Unacceptable."](elseif:$endCount is >0)[Your accomplishments are that of the normal man; little and feeble. Cower before my visage, and the innumerable and great feats that I have done solely on my power and wisdom!"](else:)[How dare you approach me with nothing to your name? Your presence here is insignificant to me, as all others are, but your worthlessness may stain Seridazar- make haste with your words before you earn more of my ire!"]
That booming voice belongs to none other than the Miraim of Seridazar, Ziatet I.
Lounging high on what cannot rightfully be called a throne, more a large cushioned pad dyed a vivid purple and populated with countless further cushions, he manages to keep an imposing figure despite his casual pose. One hand curled into his purple hair, you are lightly surprised by the presence of a courveza, or a band of cloth used to keep hair out of one's eyes. It's popular among workers for obvious reasons, and are thus avoided like the plague by most nations' aristocrats.
Although his is tied with a much more extravagant knot that allows both ends to dangle freely from the side of his head, it is nonetheless unmistakably a connection to the normal man. Despite the extravagance of his surroundings, his imposing voice and the arrogance rolling off him in waves, you are reminded that he was simply the son of a baker.
That being said, looking at everywhere else tells a different story.
For one, you doubt that most other rulers would have the gusto to lie on their side while receiving a visitor, but that's exactly what he's doing. Head propped up on his hand, the other hand resting on his hip, one leg raised behind the other threatening to expose even more of his pelvis to you, it is a pose meant to hammer in one idea: you are not equals.
Fortunately, you come from a place that doesn't care much for such poses. There's something a lot more pressing about the body language of a wyvern trying to eat you or someone trying to stab you than of anything else that isn't immediate danger, and your culture was built around that.
"Forgive me if I don't offer tribute to a man I haven't met before."
Ziatet laughs in an exaggerated fashion, although from what you can tell it's completely genuine. He must have been laughing enough to fill the room since he was a child. "There are none that have not heard my name, countless who have seen my glorious visage in sculpt, but there are precious few outside of the sands who have born witness. Very well! I accept your audacity and allow you the privilege of living!"
He finally relaxes into his position, dropping the sharper angles he made in an effort to intimidate you. It's a lot easier to look at him now, at the swell of his arms and his legs, like mountains and valleys in how sharply they are defined. Because of the stylization of his statues you always assumed he was classically proportioned, but now that you see him in the flesh he's just a bit skinnier than that.
That doesn't erase the fact that he's built however, especially given how chiseled his abs are.
It's strange to be thinking such things of another ruler upon first meeting, but then again, most rulers don't flaunt his body off like he does. Speaking of which, he's moving. Slowly and deliberately, letting you see how his muscles move just underneath the skin, stretching and relaxing- Wait a minute!
He's doing this entirely on purpose. You'd best be doing things other than inflating his ego if you actually want to start a conversation with him. He looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye but does not pursue the topic, handing the responsibility over to you.
You...
[[ask about your brother.->ZiatetBrother]]
[[ask about marriage.->ZiatetMarriageReject]]"Oh yes, your blood. He was an eager visitor, seeking my company for matters he deemed most urgent. Presumptuous! He is lucky that he is fair of face and strong in will, otherwise I would have thrown him to the wayside. Infuriating at times, I admit, so focused on paperwork that he ignores even the most burning of gazes that I give, but his smile did assuage me enough to stay my hand. I would have loved to added him to my harem, but alas, when his visits ceased I knew something had had happened to him."
"Do you know-"
"I know all that goes on in the desert!" Ziatet cuts you off in his usual loud and authoritative tone. It's jarring the way he slips into a more thoughtful tone right afterward. "The matter of blood is not to be taken lightly however, and though you need not know the shifting of the sands, I will be gracious enough to tell you this: your brother is not here."
Closing your eyes and crossing you arms, you digest all the information tightly packed into just a few words. The confidence that Ziatet radiates inclines you to believe his words, but on the other hand he expressed great interest in your brother. Is it not possible that he's simply hiding your brother from you? Specifically within the harem?
"So you wouldn't object to me inspecting your palace and ensuring that you are not... treating my brother like many of the men here?"
"I do not harbor your blood in my country, much less my palace and less still in my own harem. If I order my guards to bring all of my harem right here and now, you will be struck with amazement, awe, perhaps the need to join them, but not recognition. My harem is a matter of pride, and if I had your brother in my posession I would march him out myself and have him sing my praises."
The Miraim is certainly blunt, especially in the interest toward your brother. This works entirely in his favor however, as you can't find anything inconsistent in his words or actions. He may brag incessantly, but he refuses to brag about things he does not own. It is well known that he wants the Prince Regent for himself, but he is the first to exclaim that his advances were rejected.
The desert, though vast, is largely uninhabitable. Keeping someone there for extended periods of time would be extremely difficult if one weren't the Miraim, and even then Ziatet has no reason to keep your brother so far out of reach. He could simply deny you entry to this building and you would be unable to get inside short of outright war.
With a heavy sigh, you have no choice but to believe him.
"It is exceedingly clear that he isn't here. I apologize for implying that you would keep him."
"I would keep him gladly, but only by his will. That is one of the few limitations of my glory. If one is worthy and one reaches upward, I will snatch them up and embrace them fully. However, being so high up above all else, I may never reach downward out of my own selfishness."
It's a surprisingly noble concept, you admit. "Do you have any idea where he might be, then?"
For the first time this entire conversation, Ziatet pauses. You once again see the softness peeking behind his bravado as he thinks, going so far as to rest his chin on his knuckles as he does so. When at last he comes to a conclusion, he straightens up again and focuses on you with even stronger intensity.
"Your brother is too tenacious to have perished. There are places innumerable that villains could hide your blood, so I will not suggest that which I do not know. I can say with complete certainty that he was not taken to the realm of the dead."
You bow in thanks and steer the conversation to (link:"other topics")[(set:$ziatetBrother to true)(goto:"ZiatetConvoHub")]."Absolutely not!" comes the reply, one that you honestly saw coming before broaching the topic in the first place. "The people of the sands make use of all of my gifts in equal measure, whether it be succor, wisdom or guidance. Those who seek my affection are simply making use of a different part of my gifts, and I cannot possibly deny them if they are worthy."
Although you are by no means a historian of Seridazar, you know that Ziatet's way of ruling is unique to him even in his culture. Rather than going against the grain as an eccentric however, it seems that he is singlehandedly bending the culture to suit his ideas, and his people are following him.
That is one of the few privileges awarded to outsiders, you suppose. You can simply ask further. Surely there's some desire lurking beneath.
"Why are you pursuing the Prince Regent of Frateo, then?"
"He is one of the worthiest of all, and yet he refuses his reward. People say I have been showering him in gifts- hardly! Those are merely invitations, a glimpse of the true gift I can bestow upon him. He needs only to come to me and I will show him all the pleasures of being an owned man, but he eludes me time and time again! It is vexing!"
Finally, you're starting to see the human through his desires. He is hardly the first ruler in history to create a harem, and his self-imposed rule of taking only those who accept is actually on the more uncommon side of them. You do seem to recall one of the more strapping wyvern knights creating one in the annals of Wevendh's history.
Before you can reply, Ziatet brings his gaze toward you, and you're suddenly made aware of how closely he's examining you.
"I am far from restricted to only one person, let alone one kingdom. How could I, when there are so many worthy from many lands? People concern themselves too much with the lack of wyverns over your skies, ignorant to the people who were hardy enough to tame them in the first place!"
He suddenly stands up, his bare feet landing on the two topmost steps of his dais. With a grand sweeping gesture, he offers his hand to you, his smile bright and radiant.
"You have come seeking me, and in finding and witnessing my glory, you came to desire me. Rejoice! I look favorably on your desire, and will give myself to you as I do to the others who have sought me."
Narrowing your eyes at him, you mull over ways to reject the offer. You can't exactly accept if you're just going to be the same as-
"Although I have found you worthy, there is no reason you cannot be worthier." He continues suddenly, hunger gathering in his eyes. "I give to my harem what they give to me. If they serve me in such capacity that I recognize them further, how could I not reward them with anything they desire from Seridazar? Even if they just so happen to be the King of the Mountains."
Accept.
[[Accept, conditionally.->ZiatetHaremCondition]]
[[Refuse.->ZiatetHaremReject]]A frown splits Ziatet's features, his rich deep voice going higher in complaint. "You tease! Piquing my interest, presenting yourself as ripe for the taking- only to pull back? Speak before I go mad! I know these grapes are not sour. Ah, the chase is sweet enough on its own, why must you prolong it?"
Quickly composing yourself you try to get into a more advantageous position conversation-wise. Thinking or waiting too long is inadvisable given how desperate Ziatet is getting, and you'd rather not test the limits of his patience when he has home field advantage.
"Just hear me out! I've already consigned myself to you, I simply ask that you humor some conditions. After all, this is an exchange, is it not?"
"Get on with it," he says through gritted teeth.
"I want Wevendh and Seridazar to ally."
"I want a deeper relationship with you still."
[["I want to leave for now."->ZiatetHaremPostpone]]The soft trickle of water fills the lull in conversation that you've entered. (if:visits is 1)[You didn't notice them earlier, but](else:)[Bubbling the same as the first time you saw them,] fountains built directly into the wall cast thin sheets of water down, crashing lightly into rocks at the bottom.
You take the time to look at the room (if:visits is 1)[properly, as you haven't seen any of it for the man who grabbed your attention by force.](else:)[once more, using the details you've already seen to fuel your thoughts and what to say next.]
(either:"The fountains, for example, lead directly to little pools built into the floor. However, unlike the entire lengths of water that take up a considerable part of Zarraqeir and this palace, these are small and circular. Coupled with steps that lead to its slightly-higher-than-floor-level lip, these are without a doubt pools. It's easy to imagine Ziatet and one of his harem members, several actually, making use of the water.","Like in the entrance hall, there are many brightly dyed textiles about, although very few of them are actually on the ceiling. Instead they are bundled about on little cushioned pads much like the one Ziatet is currently sitting on, although his is much more heavily cushioned. Everything is thoroughly ruffled, doubtlessly by the actions of Ziatet and his harem.","Golden containers with exquisitely carved lids litter the room, and in your pacing you nearly step right on one. Looking down on it, you spot a few incredibly subtle wisps of violet floating lazily from what you now know is a censer. The scent is so subtle that it almost blends into the rest of the compound, but the hints of sweetness and spiciness stand out just enough. It's the scent of patchouli coming from those censers. It's a curious thing to have burning in a room that is ostensibly for the 'fun' of Ziatet and his harem members.")
You try not to picture exactly how they do so, of course. You're in the middle of a conversation.
"On the topic of...
(if:$ziatetReoffer is false)[(link:'your harem, I\'d like to join."')(goto:"ZiatetHaremTalk")](else:)[(link:'reconsideration, I\'d like to join your harem."')]
(if:$ziatetProposed is false)[(link:'marriage, may I wed you?"')[(goto:"ZiatetMarriageReject")]]
(if:$ziatetBrother is false)[(link:'my brother, do you know where he is?"')[(goto:"ZiatetBrother")]]"You, too?" He frowns deeply, but no hint of anger or even disappointment builds within him. It's hard not to be at least somewhat shocked as he erupts into booming laughter, a wide smile continuing its traces as he speaks once more. "I have seen through you! Just like Camille, you shy away from what you deserve out of fear! I do not blame you at all, for to give oneself to another is an uncertainty like none else."
"I'm anxious about the 'like Camille part', if I'm being forthright with you."
Ignoring your comment entirely, he continues his spur of the moment speech. You truly do not get the sense that he planned for this to happen, instead following his... whims would not be the right way to say it. Perhaps 'desire' is more apt, as there is a calculated undertone to it that you can't quite shake.
"I cannot say why I have taken such interest in you," (if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[Alarm bells ring in your head at his all-too-specific denial, but you try not to let it show on your face. The Prince Regent must have experienced something similar when encountering him. Just because he is genuine in his want for you specifically doesn't mean that he isn't looking for something else.](else:)[For a split second you feel like you're missing something in what he says, but there are too many possibilities to nail. You try not to worry too much about it, not when you have just as little information as he does.] "How could I, when I have indulged so little of you? It is because I want to explore all of you. Your dreams, your desires, your body of course, but I digress. Are you not curious about me in turn? Information about me is sacred, but more pertinently, extremely difficult to get. Are you not the least bit interested in this information exchange?"
Narrowing your eyes and squaring your shoulders, you prepare to hold your ground with your decision. "Pressuring me like this is-"
"I do not need an answer now! Graciously I offer, and graciously I accept your rejection. If you have truly hardened your heart and set your answer in stone, you need not say anything. In the same way, if your heart has thawed at any point, you need only say so. Then, dropping everything else, I will swathe you so completely in my warmth that you will need nothing else."
Give it a try.
(link:"Remain silent.")[(set:$ziatetReoffer to true)(goto:"ZiatetConvoHub")]"I knew you would come around," Ziatet says as he descends the steps, feet practically gliding as he approaches at you at top speed. With arms at his side the entire time, you are unprepared for their sudden raise which leads to you being swept into his embrace.
He's warm. Warmer than anyone else you've happened to share body heat with, but not to the point that it feels unnatural. Something presses into your back, but it's hard to focus on that when his lips are tracing blazingly hot kisses along your jawline. Flashes of yourself and Ziatet, bodies tangled in heat far greater than the sum of your parts, sweat trickling down his-
Shaking your head, you try to keep your quickly failing thoughts from being devoured entirely by your senses.
It's an immensely hard thing to do when Ziatet is sneaking his hands underneath your clothes, one curling around your back toward your shoulder. and one slipping down your hips. Despite the luxury he lives in, the wear of a worker's daily life has not left his hands, their rough texture only accentuating your downward spiral into feeling more than thinking.
"Wait!" You manage to stutter out.
Ziatet pauses but does not still, barely restrained impatience present in the way his hands shift in place. "You have accepted and become mine. I don't expect absolute obedience, but do you intend to keep me from indulging in my latest possession? Unlike you, who grew waited on hand and foot, I was born lowly. When you are given something, you //savor// it."
He clamps his mouth over your neck and sucks hard. Pain sparks behind your eyes but by the time your hand reaches his head to push it off, your hand falters as a wave of pleasure pushes through you. The scent of patchouli intensifies and your hand curls in his thick locks of hair, unsure of whether to pull him off you or pull him even closer.
You...
Pull him off you.
(link:"Pull him off you and say you have conditions.")[(set:$ziatetHTalk to true)(goto:"ZiatetHaremPostpone")]
Pull him closer.
Moan."You have everything you could possibly want here, and on the cusp of receiving it all, you want to leave?" He says without a hint of disappointment in his voice.
His prolific harem is partially composed of foreigners, and even the lap of luxury might not be able to turn the tide of homesickness quite so easily. It's not the people from the far-flung corners of the world that gives him the most trouble, you predict. It's those from the neighboring countries who are so close to their home country that feel the point the most. You don't have to be from Astope to wax poetic about how devastating being unable to leave would be, and you're fairly sure that the harem members from Astope did exactly that.
"Even if I were to want for nothing here, the people of Wevendh need me. Make no mistake, I am not fleeing your offer. Think of me as part of your harem already. It is simply that part of me is reserved for my people. Surely you cannot disagree, as this holds true for you as well."
"I suspected you would say as much." He smiles before (if:$ziatetHTalk is true)[continuing to suck on your neck with great force, coaxing a yelp out of you which quickly turns into a moan. Your body falls limp but Ziatet is holding you simultaneously supporting you and feeling you up, practically using gravity to make certain areas easier to reach, easier to grope. Your hands curl wildly trying to find something to hold onto, and eventually they find steadiness in Ziatet's broad shoulders.](else:)[making his way down the steps at top speed, at which point he tosses any coverings you had barring him from your neck. Preparing to defend yourself you move for your dagger, but before you reach it he's sucking hard on your neck. Your grip falters as something presses into your back, and you find yourself moaning.] "You are hardly the first person looking to leave. It is good that you know your place, so no punishment will be brokered. However! Your absence will mean duties left unfulfilled! I will gladly send you back to your kingdom any time you desire it, but on one condition of my own: you will fulfill your duties in advance, for one whole day."
There's no way to really broker or backtrack on this matter. You simply have to gulp and nod. "Then we have an (link:"agreement")[(set:$ziatetTime to "Morning")(goto:"ZiatetPostponeSex")]."{(if:$ziatetTime is "Morning")["Hnng- Oh! Oh fuck! Wait let me-"<br><br>
"Scream?" Ziatet chuckles as he pushes your leg farther back toward your chest. The burn in your body is intense, not only from his impossibly hot cock spearing right into you but the arm hooked around the back of your neck, bringing you closer and closer with each body-shuddering thrust. "You're doing plenty of that already. I don't want to damage your pretty voice, but it's so hard to do when you're singing so sweetly."<br><br>
He contorts your body exactly how he wants to but never budges himself, always thrusting in the same path, making you feel exactly why he's doing this. With your body arcing downward you feel every inch of him sliding against your upper wall, letting gravity pry your hole open as your lower side presses into the cushioned pad.<br><br>
It was only a few minutes ago that Ziatet was calmly lounging on this very pad, and now your stiff cock leaks all over it each time it bounces against your stomach.<br><br>
"Noooo-" You try to start a sentence, but it devolves into a mewl as you cum.<br><br>
His hips still as he tuts. "What a conundrum! Under normal circumstances my harem members are trained to last longer than this, but I do like the idea of having one with incredible sensitivity. Ah, the difficulty suits my intellect indeed. I will ponder this while I continue training you."<br><br>
You claw at the pad with tears in your eyes, hoping he runs out of steam soon. He has to run out of stamina by (link:"noon")[(set:$ziatetTime to "Noon")(goto:"ZiatetPostponeSex")], surely.]
(elseif:$ziatetTime is "Noon")[The water you're submerged in is delectably cool, but the chest your back is pressed into is decidedly not. Even in the water of one of the pools the sex does not cease, and Ziatet has tasked you with riding him.<br><br>
With your body mostly underwater this is actually a fairly easy task. In fact, it blunts the leftover pain from this morning's sex session, which went on far longer than you expected, and with two loads unceremoniously dumped into you. He gave you a fraction of an hour's rest before he pulled you into this pool.<br><br>
It would've been nice had he not been smacking his lips behind you the entire time. Another member of his harem arrives and looks at you with marked curiosity, but neither of you could get a good look at each other. You couldn't exactly exchange greetings when Ziatet chose that exact moment to grab your hips and slam you down repeatedly, chuckling at the bashful face the other harem member gave him. He simply left after delivering a platter of grapes.<br><br>
Ziatet's been snacking on them ever since, and just as you turn to give him a piece of your mind since your tank is running on empty-<br><br>
Your lips catch on a grape. A particularly plump one, which catches you off-guard. Bashfully biting into it, you're slowly fed as (link:"the day goes on.")[(set:$ziatetTime to "Evening")(goto:"ZiatetPostponeSex")]]
(elseif:$ziatetTime is "Evening")[With the sun setting the feeling of cloth around your body usually signals sleep, but of course you're getting none of it.<br><br>
You're made to lie down on one particularly large band of cloth connecting from two points on the ceiling, your stomach and arms cradled by the surprisingly sturdy sling. It goes without saying by now but Ziatet is hilted inside of you, using the natural swing of his thrusts to make the entire sling move, making it even easier on him to slide his cock in.<br><br>
While this does mean he hits your prostate every single time, sending your legs into jerky spasms of pleasure, that's not the part that's grabbing your attention. He's marking you. Over and over again, his teeth and tongue scrapes whatever part he can reach. It would be hard to do if you were lying on the same level- which is exactly why he has you on this damned sling, leaving you helpless with your arms wrapped in cloth.<br><br>
He has full access to your back, and he doesn't waste any time biting, licking, sucking, a collection of dizzying movements that shift your senses between pain and pleasure too quickly for you to catch up.<br><br>
By the time he's done you're exhausted. Even trained as you are, the constant onslaught of sex leaves you dead tired.<br><br>
"One last thing," Ziatet says before slipping out of you one last time, finally giving your poor hole a break. He steps around and in front of you. "Open up."<br><br>
Mouth open and tongue lolling out, the salty streaks smother your tastebuds. Out of instinct you roll your tongue backward and swallow, an action that earns you a fond ruffle of the hair.<br><br>
"Good boy! So... do you still want to leave?"<br><br>
[["Yes."->SeridazarPostponed]]<br>
"No."<br>
Fall asleep.]}The guards lift you out to your carriage with the utmost care, talking among themselves about 'another one's legs ruined for a few days'. In your half-dazed state and with your legs having lost all feeling in them, you literally couldn't argue with them if you wanted to.
You're placed directly into your carriage, which has been filled with all manner of dried foods, expertly secured jugs of water, and several piles of gold bars. Spending most of your journey soundly asleep and recuperating, your few waking thoughts keep drifting back to Ziatet thanks to the abundance of gifts that surround you.
If he provides for all of the harem members like this, it is little wonder then that so many people willingly fall under his care. Even nobles, who do not lack for the material gifts that he gives, would easily fall in line for even half the amount of attention he gave you.
You try not to think too hard about what that means for you, specifically.
When you arrive at Wevendh your general's jaw drops to the floor, but your spymaster sighs and produces several salves with which to treat the numerous marks that Ziatet left on your body. Even with that, it takes a good while for all the bites and bruises to heal and you are ready to (link:"set out")[(set:$postponeSeridazar to true)(goto:"NationHub")] once more.(link:"Seridazar")[(link:"Ziatet Postponing Duties")[(goto:"ZiatetHaremPostpone")]]"Is it the universe that trembles, or simply we, who lacking in the fullness of love, seek so desperately that our bodies betray us? Is it that the universe in its vastness elected to take shape in you, who in unequal parts arrives and parts with us like the moving stars, the waning moon, the inconstant sun? 'Twould explain then the sighs that alight our room in hours of waking, 'twould explain then the words that having died on our lips fail their purpose, 'twould explain then the unbearable distance between the drake and its bards, for the script written but not performed rots the soul."
The entire letter has a song-like quality to it, your mind filling in a rough melody with only the syllables and words to guide you. The heavily perfumed paper is just one of many that you have received, the scent of saffron and its honeyed layers thick no matter how long they stay in your steadily growing 'correspondence' pile.
"Anything new from Astope?" Your general asks with a brusque smile, knowing full well the answer already.
"They found yet another way to tell me that they long for me."
Your response is met with a hearty chuckle. Taking off his helmet, Fiomuid is every bit the handsome and youthful flirt your spymaster works tirelessly to clean up after. It's not an easy task, especially when he so openly admits to his wants. "So why //aren't// you bedding two twins who are all but begging you to take them? I wish bedding the troops was half as easy. The chase is nice though. Say, can you convince the Dalais twins to join the army, or at least put in a good word for me?"
Ignoring Fiomuid's sordid request outright you busy yourself with the rest of the letter. Skimming through the lines upon lines of flowery prose, you're just about ready to fold and forget this letter as one of many when your fingers brush against the much heavier bottom right corner. Unfolding the letter further you come across a gleaming ticket.
With a solid body of red and text etched in gold, it is impossible to ignore the audacious invitation. The information registers in your mind before you can even think to stop yourself, the bright letters in large yet elegant font unmistakably spelling out the name of the twins' show in the language of Aoepith. Just underneath the imposing capital letters is its translation, not in Syseiosn but Draslinach- your tongue.
"The Moons Two and the Draconic Comet," you say aloud.
Fiomuid, having scooted himself into position behind you so he could read over your shoulder, reads the rest of the description for you as you flip the ticket over. "The debut of a legendary tale penned and to be performed by Astope's foremost leaders and performers. A story of longing on a cosmic scale, yet burning with human feeling and familiarity. A once in a lifetime show, a chance to connect with the gods who are as distant as the stars."
Sitting in quiet contemplation, the faces of the twins refuse to leave your errant thoughts.
"I have an idea!" Fiomuid proudly proclaims. You've been around him for long enough that you don't even bother telling him to quiet down. Not that you even have the chance to, firing his explanation without prompt. "You may only have one ticket, but there's no reason you can't bring a bodyguard! And who better than your charming-"
"Yes."
[["No."->AstopeSoloIntro1]]Double-click this passage to edit it.A tingle spreads over your right hand as your royal insignia activates dormant magic hidden within the Codex. Sprouting pages where there were none before, the dull passage about potato farming you would have been reading is swiftly covered by pages meant only for royal eyes.
''Advisors:''
* [[Spymaster Shizomu->ShizomuCodex]]
* [[General Fiomuid->FiomuidCodex]]The backbone of the communication and spy network of Wevendh, Shizomu is a unique figure for many reasons.
Found washed up on the rocks of the Clad Coast, he was the sole survivor of a disastrous shipwreck. From the remains of the vessel, what scarce goods floated to the top and the barely-remembered name he gave the guards, he was determined to be of Distant Western origin and brought before the royal family.
//You vaguely remember this happening, but then again your toy drake //was// generally more interesting than strangers at the court. That being said, it was hard even for your child self to ignore the scared expression of a similarly-aged boy, shivering in a blanket. You offered your drake toy to him and he smiled.//
Despite being one of the most renowned linguists in all of Vostoliarbre and one of the very few who even knew of the lands to the west past the distant seas, the king lamented his ignorance. He entrusted Shizomu to the spymaster at the time, Old Ash. Little is known about what exactly Ash taught his protege, but Shizomu took to it like flame to oil. By the age of 16, Shizomu had practically replaced Old Ash, properly taking over the role when his mentor passed away shortly after.
The shroud of secrecy naturally placed upon him left most of Wevendh wondering what he did. Some thought he did nothing and was a permanent guest fostered out of kindness. Much less empathetic individuals thought he was a curiosity from the Distant West to gawk at. A very small but loud contingent spread the rumor that he was actually an arranged marriage for either of the princes, oftentimes with a lewd aspect involved.
It was only when he outed an entire noble family for selling secrets from other families to Dusetmenean merchants that the nobles learned of his actual role. He is now equal parts respected and feared by them, as he is one of the few people who can not only challenge their authority, but look into their actions whenever he wants. As such, they have no choice but to stay loyal to the crown.
Some concern was raised in the higher circles of nobility when Shizomu was personally assigned to the youngest prince some years later. His dutiful service both to the nation and the prince assuaged them, although the lower classes of Wevendh who still knew nothing of him persisted in their thoughts- especially the loud lewd rumor spreaders.General Fiomuid, known to other nations as the Claw of Wevendh, is a fighter known for his tenacity and ferocity on the battlefield. Whenever an example of martial prowess is needed, he is the chosen champion of Wevendh in lieu of the monarch.
A rough and tumble lad even in his youth, he was more fond of mischief and fighting than carrying out the duties expected of a farmer's son. He was also talented at roping in other children to his schemes, even those of nobles, and he was quickly thought of as a bad influence and troublemaker.
It wasn't a total surprise, then, when he enlisted into Wevendh's army as soon as he was eligible. Despite butting heads with his seniors and a poor understanding of swordsmanship at the beginning, his already-tempered talent for hand-to-hand combat and perserverance distinguished him as a talented recruit. However, he had no actual battle experience, so he was not considered for knighthood for some time.
Once opportunities showed themselves, however, it became clear that he was beyond simply talented. Whether hunting bandits spilling over from the Southern Tribes of Krozulan, jousting against the knights of Agerhaest, or even wrestling with Qadogomese warriors, he excelled. He was knighted and received distinction after distinction.
Less honorably, however, he also became known for his libertine attitude. He slept with just about anyone he could get his hands on, from members of the army to fellow knights and, more scandalously, even noble sons. It was this attitude that left him disliked by senior knights and nobles alike, making his progress further nearly impossible.
Fortunately for him, he did not escape the king's notice. Deciding to overlook Fiomuid's exploits, the king personally made him part of the Royal Guard. Such a sudden decision was controversial, due in large part to the idea that one of the princes had slept with him and the move was simply a coverup to avoid scandal. The discussion was renewed once more when the elder prince was crowned, as he raised Fiomuid to the position of General, in charge of all the military forces of Wevendh.
//The rumors were completely untrue, of course, although it wasn't for lack of trying. Your brother was far too professional to ever consider doing anything with Fiomuid, always sidestepping his offers without outright rejecting him. Regardless of your feelings toward your general at that time, your brother also ensured that you were never alone with Fiomuid for too long.//It is remarkable how Fiomuid finds a way to deflate himself, his stature shrinking in equal measure with his enthusiasm. The unexpected change from reckless bravado to muted disappointment could easily be considered endearing coming from someone whose reputation precedes him.
Thankfully, this isn't the first time he's tried it on you. You need only to give a dismissive gesture for him to bounce right back up into his bubbly self, his cheeky grin bright as ever. He knows you know that his normal tactics don't work, but he flirts the same way he did when you were simply the younger prince, expected to do nothing. It's like a game of temptation where you're the one expected to close the gap and he's somehow the one just out of reach.
But it's not a game you're interested in, at least not now.
"You can use the time you would've spent in Astope pursuing the Dalais twins," you say dryly. "After you prepare the carriage, of course. The envoy one."
Fiomuid whistles, and rightly so. Built to showcase the wealth and culture of Wevendh, the carriage has only seen use in the most high-profile of events. Its showy, brocaded exterior is perfect for proudlly announcing the arrival of Wevendh's monarch- traveling, not so much.
"If you're using that one, I have no choice but to accompany you." He raises a hand before you can accuse him of untoward behavior. "As part of the Royal Guard. The carriage is a prime target for bandits. We'll be escorting you on horseback. I'm sure the guards' quarters in Actapetra can hold us until you're ready to go back."
"I suppose you'll be bedding some aspiring actors, lonely artists and wistful musicians while you're there."
[["You know me so well!"->AstopeSoloIntro2]]In the city of waking dreams, it is easy for one to believe they could fade into the throng of people. Not just becoming part of the roving crowds through the streets, but something far deeper than that: losing the self to merriment, letting the mask slip away, becoming just another thread in the tapestry of the night.
And they would be right.
The line between entertainer and entertainee flickers and twists like the flames in the heatless torches. A skilled comedian cracks a joke that sends a woman's lilting laughter into the air. Her notes meld into the melody of a flutist who diverts into an entirely new tune of their own making. Merely passing by, a man bursts into song with a wondrous voice as he comes to a sudden stop. Nearby dancers swathed in long pieces of fabric unfurl in mesmerizing spins, timed to the new song only by instinct and intuition. And it goes on and on, like a ripple throughout Actapetra. Just about anyone could be swept up and lost to it.
Even the buildings have lost much of their cohesion. Fences start and stop suddenly, brick and mortal left unlaid as it transitions into a small grove. Nestled right next to it is a building made up of only two walls, which itself transitions into a round theater that it doesn't quite touch. People walk through the gaps between without any trouble in the world, probably led on by the fact that the performers themselves are doing it anyway. The dreamlike atmosphere remains unbroken by just about anyone who chooses to walk the streets.
But not you.
You aren't as keen as Shizomu, but you've been around him long enough to know how to tear your eyes away from spectacle and focus on the not-so-obvious. Within mere moments of stepping down from your carriage and orienting yourself, you can feel the attention- subtly, but persistently- burning into you.
A monochromatic harlequin stares at you as he juggles. Three similar-looking androgynous people gossip over beer- you cannot tell if they are siblings or if it's just their makeup, but you can tell that they're talking about you. Out of the corner of your eye you spot someone running off, casting a furtive glance your way in the split second they're visible.
Without a shadow of a doubt, you know that they are heading to the twins to bring news of your arrival.
That is the entire reason you chose to arrive so brazenly. The only people capable of making sense of this ever-changing city are its performers. It is fitting, then, that the only people capable of governing through the cacophany of noise and color are the ones who sit at the very pinnacle of performance.
It is their residence that you are ascending the steps to, leaving your Guard to converse with the twins' counterpart at the gates.
Rather than completely diverting from Astopean architectural sense like most other buildings around, the twins' palace resembles a less refined version of it. Crowning the highest hill in Actapetra, the palace lacks any towers and, indeed, much height. However, it is rectangular and very wide, so much so that its farthest wings are atop solid supports rather than the hill itself. The carved walls you have come to expect are done away with completely for the outer facade. It is instead made of pillars holding up what you first assumed to be a roof, but as you come closer and see stairs leading up to the furnished top, you realize it is actually a platform. The platform is largely hollow in the middle as well, with it only following the line of pillars.
In the middle lies the Diarchs' residence proper, which has yet another facade in the form of a covered walkway. The first floor is dominated by large arches, the second smaller windows peering into the corridor, with only the third lacking a passageway to be seen. You aren't sure if the twins designed this aspect, but the third floor has its own style of windows; two vertical ones with rounded tops in a pair, with a circular window nestled in the space between the tops.
Passing through the pillars and then through the arches, you finally arrive in front of dark red doors bearing carvings of the two who are just inside. You take a deep breath and [[knock.->TwinsMeet]]The dancing lights of Astope are familiar to you in many ways. Not just orbs of light that weave and flicker throughout the night whenever you cast your gaze eastward, they are like little sparks that set your memories alight once more.
What were once just amusing recollections of particularly memorable performances and plays turned into so much more now that you've lost the ones you've experienced them with. You cannot let the past fetter you, however, even if it is with fondness. Despite going down this beaten path many times before, this will be the first time you attend the grand theater alone.
You cast a resolute look forward as you and your Guard descend the mountains northward.
Given that this is a major road, it's no surprise that you find yourself in the midst of a multitude of other travelers. Perhaps on another occasion you would have spoken to them, hidden behind a veil of anonymity and rugged traveling clothes. Of course, with your identity on full display, they travel at a wide berth. Whenever it's not possible, such as on tighter, more craggy sections, they pause and let you ahead.
Whether they recognize a diplomatic carriage or they just don't want to deal with heavily armed and armored knights, you don't know.
From your plush tuffet placed right next to the little carriage window, you watch the other travelers. At first the sight is no different from any other road; merchants with carts full of grain, lone riders on horseback, and any number of people traveling for personal reasons. The sight is doze-worthy, your body informs you, and at some points throughout the journey, you content yourself with napping on the lounging seats.
However, once you reach the intersection of Wevendh, Astope and Qadogom, you snap back to attention. All of the regular fare depart into Qadogom, and if you look far enough into the distance, even a few seem to be heading for Carales. The important part, though, is that you've landed in the company of those headed toward Astope.
Although they still cannot compare to your intricately designed carriage, visitors to and performers of Astope alike have far more vibrant means of transportation. It's understandable that the latter have theirs slathered in paint, but you note with some surprise that the former have caught on to a Frateonian trend.
There are countless ways to place an image on another object, but just about all of them involve altering the material in ways that tend toward permanent. A Frateonian designer invented a far less permanent method, which Shizomu introduced to you some time ago. It was shocking to see the premade images- virecals, they're called- being attached to just about any surface, then coming off just as easily. They even work on skin, as proven by Fiomuid sneaking one onto your arm.
Such virecals are all over their carriages, some depicting scenes from popular plays, some with iconography from many different styles of performance, and even some that are simply whorls and splashes of color. Along with them are horses with lavishly painted saddles- and on one in particular, fake armor of surprisingly accurate construction, if not material and color.
The door to your carriage opens, and Fiomuid peeks his head in. Tufts of fluffy auburn hair peek out from the sides of his helmet when he raises its faceplate to speak. "Wanna stop here and stretch your legs? Maybe get to know some people? If you don't, the men will finish restocking shortly and we'll be on our way again."
Stop at the checkpoint.
(link:"Speak with the Astope-bound travelers.")[(set:$routeATP to 2)(goto:"AstopeCheckpointSpeak")]
(link:"Just keep going.")[(set:$routeATP to 3)(goto:"AstopeTravelTerritory")]{(if:$routeATP is 3)[With confirmation that you want to arrive at Astope as soon as possible, the knights finish the restocking with the same kind of urgency. It takes almost no time at all before your carriage is in motion once more.]
(elseif:$routeATP is 4)[With the conversations you've had still fresh in your mind, you have something to mull over as you climb back into your carriage. The knights have long since finished restocking and, roused back into action, mount their steeds once more.]}
Contrary to what one might expect from a nation dedicated to revelry, the planning and distribution of buildings, even in these far reaches away from the capital, is meticulous and orderly. It more closely resembles Frateo than the untouched hills of southern Qadogom, with lavish residences on the top of hills overlooking different squares dedicated to performance spaces, markets, and even schools.
This also leads to one of the facets of Astope's architectural sense; variations in height. Rather than placing towers on high vantage points for strategic purpose like most others do- Wevendh especially, given its abundance of suitable watchtower spots- they are placed entirely at the base of hills, and never reach the height of those on the top. Conversely, those on top are quite low. You're witness to the point of the effect right now- by looking upward, you get a view of a tower, the residence, and the sky at the same time.
There is a sense of uniformity between the locations, though. In both cases, buildings are built out of the same white polished brick and accented with deep red in the roofs, under windows, and in flags. In fact, it is how a building chooses its placement of red that identifies its function. Passing by several musicians playing in tandem, the building they are in is heavily draped with vertical banners. Some blocks later, a school full of adolescents flies red from traditional flagpoles. Opposite them, the market has lines from one building to another, where long horizontal blocks of fabric hang.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the buildings' construction is also the reason they can be laid out in such neat squares; excepting very big, specialized structures, the buildings themselves are essentially squares. The way Astope avoids flatness is, instead of building outward, they carve space inward using arches, pillars, recessed windows, and porches. Having stayed in Astopean residences before, you can attest to the fact that they get a lot of light and a splendid view during the day. Heavy, noise-blocking doors and curtains block out the unwanted during the night.
The reason Astope can do all this is that it produces almost no exports. There were no settlements that gradually grew bigger, excepting the capital city, because so little could be extracted. While a lack of natural resources would hamper most nations, Astope lays comfortably as the end-all be-all of entertainment. Its income actually rivals that of Dusetmene, reduced only by what it spends on purchasing everything that it needs. Even taking that into account, the nation is very wealthy.
Looking at it all, it's almost easy to see it as an easy target.
Historical accounts are vague as to what actually happened, but Qadogom once had the same idea. Even now, very little about what Astope does has changed from that time. There are little to no fortifications due to planning focused around comfort and aesthetic, there are no forges to create weapons or armor, and most of all, Astope doesn't even have an apparent standing army.
Qadogom's ensuing loss was so devastating, one of their conditions of surrender was for Astope not to reveal how they lost so thoroughly.
While this is a compelling enough reason as any to avoid open confrontation with them, your unique position affords you another. Your forebears, even with the dragons at the height of their power, refused to make war with Astope.
{(if:$playerAgenda is "Diplo")[There is more than one way to win over a nation, of course. There's very little point in attacking a nation that's neutral to you, much less one that has two twins that are very receptive to your presence. The difficulty lies in responding to what they actually want. Marriage is something to seriously consider.]
(elseif:$playerAgenda is "Aggro")[Even if you had the troops for it, it's clear that traditional warfare against Astope simply won't work. Perhaps information about how Qadogom lost will reveal itself in time, but until then, your best shot seems to be simply taking the fight to the leaders. The only question is how best to do that.]
(elseif:$playerAgenda is "Brother")[Astope being one of the places you frequented the most with your family, it's entirely possible that your brother left some trace or another. The biggest benefit you have is that the twins like you a lot. If you navigate around their proposals, you can definitely get information about your brother from them.]
(elseif:$playerAgenda is "Seduce")[It feels almost like cheating though, doesn't it? Qadogom amassed an army in order to overthrow Astope, while Astope's rulers are literally begging you to marry them. There must be a caveat somewhere. Perhaps the twins are insatiable in bed? You might have to ask them... personally.]}
Those thoughts accompany you as you [[head further into Astope.->AstopeTravelTerritory2]]{(if:$routeATP is 2)["It's certainly an opportunity to stretch your legs without committing so far as to exploring this place specifically. There are other opportunities to stop by- not so many opportunities to meet with such vibrant people. You give Fiomuid a brief nod before making your way to the door. He smiles brightly at the opportunity to help you, gripping your hand firmly as you step down. The effect isn't lost on onlookers, either. In their heads they must see a dashing knight helping their liege, not the libertine that he is."]}
On the road you were completely unapproachable. Now that you are out of your carriage and not completely surrounded by knights on horseback, you are... at least somewhat approachable. You're still dressed to the nines for theatergoing and, despite being far smaller and less valuable than the treasured jeweled crown of Wevendh, the tiara atop your head still identifies you unmistakably as royalty.
With far more grace in your movements and expression than usual, you head straight for the group in the midst of excited chatter. They quiet and space out more when they see you. It's only when you stop at the edge of their little circle that they realize that you're not trying to cut a path through them at all.
The first to break the silence is a man who, up until this point, had been cradling his wife. He removes his beringed hand only to take off his hat, letting off a shrill whistle as he does so. "Well I'll be damned, it's the king to the north! Honey, we're in the presence of genuine royalty!"
His wife quickly does the same, taking off her hat and offering her own whistle. "Guess these tickets were worth even more than the raffle said! Been wondering what he looked like up in that castle of his. I only know the look of the last one! Whatever happened to him?"
If you weren't already familiar with their accents, their usage of 'north' and their attire would have been dead giveaways. They're farmers from Agerhaerst. They are by far dressed the simplest- a step up from the usual farmer's wear, but of make intended strictly for form and function. That isn't to say they are out of place, however. They've painted dozens upon dozens of vegetables and fruits on their clothing with a surprising amount of tact and design sensibility. Even the fact that they don't appear to have used the correct type of paint for their clothing lends to its charm; it's a little bit of momentary embellishment, perfect for Astope.
"Come now, let us not talk of such dour things." A woman calls out with a soft, almost matronly voice. Her gentle wording belies the concern in her stance, one foot forward as if ready to step in between you should you do something rash. Her decisiveness is impressive, given that her eyes are closed the entire time. "I'm sure the king of Wevendh has grace within his heart to overlook idle banter."
If it weren't for her vestments, you might have thought she was from Frateo. It makes sense, though, that a priestess of Cmieloniki would know how to step carefully among people of higher authority. (if:$endCmieloniki is false)[Even in times of peace, the Eiates was known as one of the more vitriolic leaders. It does not bode well for your impending visit, then, that he's in the midst of a war.]
This isn't your first time seeing a priestess, of course. You've had priest and priestess alike arrive in Wevendh, richly-tinted teal gowns drawing attention. By and large they were harmless, although Shizomu did take precautions to avoid the now-infamous missionary encampments from forming in Wevendh. Fiomuid being Fiomuid, he was far more interested in the fact that their gowns are sleeveless.
Rather than modify her vestments directly (probably a smart decision on her part), she chose the route of accessorizing. Bands and bangles of carved copper adorn her arms, interspersed quite rarely with small red gems. The most striking feature about her, however, is her diadem. Despite the body being simple green cloth, from it hangs a great number of the aforementioned red gems.
The color and sparkle is remarkably similar to that of certain portions of the Astope performers'. The main difference stems from the fact that they use pailettes, a far cheaper and more realistic alternative, used to cover nearly the entirety of their clothes. Even at relative rest, when they move, the pailettes shimmer in a mesmerizing wave. Every single pattern and color seems intentionally designed to draw eyes. It's no surprise, then, when two of their rank are dressed in what are essentially bodysuits, using the curves of their body as an added draw.
Since they are coyly speaking to each other in low voices, you don't trust yourself to give a proper appraisal of what type of performers they are exactly. You only know that there are three of them.
You look toward the last of the group, a young man sitting on the step of his cart. He makes no effort to join the others or even acknowledge your existence, far too busy reciting something in his language. It is hard to identify its patterns, other than it makes heavy use of a 'tch' sound. What is more striking than his behavior is how he manages to rival the performers in his clothing.
It is of distinctly different make, featuring three shawls of different color and geometric pattern forming a vest and sash over a tunic carrying elements from all three. Unlike all of the other men, his legs are bare underneath his skirt. A round hat made entirely of stiffened feathers adorns his head in green and purple. Your gut tells you that he's from Krozulan, but you have no idea what part he hails from, let alone the exact tribe.
Rather than let the silence drag out even further, you extend a greeting toward...
[[the farmer couple.->AstopeCheckFarmers]]
[[the priestess.->AstopeCheckPriestess]]
[[the performers.->AstopeCheckPerformers]]
[[the silent man.->AstopeCheckTribe]]The priestess' bangles clink softly as she greets you, one hand going to her heart before going back out, fingers opening and closing in a twisting motion. "I am Wiothida, 6th in the Order of Yeiln. What can this river-speaker do for the king of Wevendh?"
"Call it curiosity. Are you going to Astope to spread the teachings of Blicekhi?"
"Not specifically to do so, no."
That comes as a surprise to you, given how persistent some of Cmieloniki's missionaries are. (if:$endCmieloniki is false)[They have been especially fervent in the recent months. The Eiates has been scrambling for public support via the faithful of Blicekhi, but you are unsure that such a slow plan would work against the brutal efficiency of Qadogom. He's failed to find support in Wevendh, since most families' spiritualities lay with the dragons.]
"I will teach those seeking to be taught, but otherwise, it's only for personal enjoyment. I've been told that there are wonderful stories that are told entirely in song." She breathes in sharply, as if overwhelmed by joy at the very idea of such a performance. "I wish to see one of the comedies. I can scarcely believe that there are people dedicated solely to making humor."
It makes sense that there aren't jesters or the like in Cmieloniki, but you are surprised that a priestess of Blicekhi would seek them out. Your image of them has tended more to austerity and severity, although that may have been because you've only been made aware of the actions of the Eiates and the rare disagreements visitors to Wevendh have started.
"I wouldn't have thought that a woman of those vestments would seek out humor specifically. I seem to remember Blicekhi praising perseverance in the form of grit rather than amity."
"I don't blame you for making the misconception. Have you the time to listen to some teachings? Regarding what we just spoke about, of course. I do not intend to recite our whole tradition." She says with a curt laugh.
You almost call out to to your knights to find some seat or another, but a few dull thuds catch you before you can do so. You join the priestess in sitting down on the step of her carriage, which smells faintly of incense. It is a difficult sensation to describe other than 'moist'- the wood beneath you you know to be completely dry, and yet, when you grip its edge, it does not feel so. It's a curious thing, but not so curious as to drive you to interrupt the priestess' story.
"This is one of the teachings of Eiates Cheponak, first spoken to the men of the Ebalan River. Behold: the river has risen from its banks and torn its sides asunder. Earth became water, and the works upon it which man has wrought have been washed away. From the gods to we, and now we to you, you have learned how to construct the divine water-shields so that your works be spared."
"A creative way of saying dams." You offer.
"It does not translate very well to Syseiosn. If we are to be completely accurate, she used words meaning 'the banks of a river which do not flood', 'something gifted from the divine rivers to man', and the name of a long shield. The much more succinct term, dam, came far later."
You've certainly learned something today. You gesture for her to continue the story.
She nods. "But there are those who fear. They construct their divine water-shield, but look only to the sky for the next dark clouds. They dare not build on the banks, afraid that the river will again swallow their works whole. They make merry only when the shields hold, and by then they are hungry because they have sown nothing; and they are wet because they have made nothing. It is the wise who notices the fertility of the soil and plants there; and who notices the dryness of the land and builds there; knowing that the shield protects the works of the faithful. And when the rains come, they are merry, for they have food, shelter, and time to spare for merriment. And in hearing this, the men became merry."
It's hard to find words to follow up such an impactful story, and ultimately, you find them unnecessary. You thank her quietly and rise, (link:"turning back to the assembled group.")[(set:$astopeCTalk's 2nd to 1)(set:$astopeCTalk's 5th to $astopeCTalk's 5th + 1)(goto:"AstopeCheckpointSpeak2")]The Krozulan tribesman does not cease his recitation even when you approach. You don't get to be the king of Wevendh without a little bit of patience, however, and you plant yourself firmly in front of him.
No matter how aloof he is, even he can't ignore you forever. "What do you want?"
"Quite a few things. But right now, I think can I do with your name."
He stares. "It's Yominh."
You tap your foot, waiting for any sort of follow-up or continuation, but it soon becomes clear that he isn't going to give you anything unless you ask him for it directly. Maybe he'll become more talkative once you get past this first bit of resistance. "What tribe do you come from?"
"Amilancao."
While it's great to know the name at last, you are hardly knowledgable of all the specific tribes in Krozulan. It wasn't all that long since the entire region was considered part of Cmieloniki and renamed as such, after all. Rather than let this gap in your knowledge show, perhaps you can make this an opportunity to glean some from him.
"I've been told that the Tekadana is doing many things to rebuild Krozulan, but not everyone agrees." You're thinking mostly of the southern bandits who are causing trouble for Wevendh and Aesis alike, but you're keeping it open. Knowing if there's unrest in a nation is crucial information. "Does Amilancao agree with what he's doing?"
"If you pick up a handful of sand from the desert, does it speak for the dunes?" He drags his hands through his hair out of frustration, groaning as he does so. "The Tekadana has done much for us, and for that I am grateful, but tribes must govern themselves. The Dana know what is best for their tribe, after all. But what of us that no longer have a Dana? What of us that no longer have our elders?"
It's a difficult situation, indeed. Although Wevendh has had some tough patches throughout its history, some element of tradition held it together long enough to survive wars, regency disputes, and even the disappearance of dragons. Were all of Wevendh's history and its keepers to disappear, it would be nearly impossible to unite the people as they are now.
"We traded grace for bloodshed and lives for freedom. When the dust settled, there was no one to teach us the dances. We had learned less than half of all the dances- most likely even fewer. The elders were fond of secrets. Eventually, we decided that we had to make our own."
Clearly he doesn't mean simply making dances from imagination, or else you'd be having this conversation in Krozulan and not here. That must be the reason why he's here. "So you're trying to take inspiration from the dancers in Astope?"
He nods, some surprise apparent in his voice. "You are the first to realize that. We have enough traditional dances that we have a reasonable base to form new ones, so what we need is a way to push it further. (if:$astopeCTalk's 3rd is 1)[You've seen what Camori and Sogites can do. To dance in the sky like that would carve a name for Amilancao anew.] (else:)[I won't spoil their act out of respect for their performance, but what they do is incredible. Try talking to them at some point.] I want them to teach me. If they weren't here, I would have left some time ago."
A murderous look engulfs his face, but it isn't directed at you. Following his gaze, you realize that he's looking straight at (if:$astopeCTalk's 2nd is 1)[Wiothida.](else:)[the priestess.] Ah, so she's the reason he's so silent. It's hardly your place to talk about such a touchy subject, let alone attempt to reconcile them- at least, not with near-strangers on the road. You'll be doing so with the Tekadana or the Eiates.
"Your tribesmen are welcome to learn from Wevendh, if you'd like."
That manages to break him out of his hatred for just long enough that he can laugh and finish the conversation. "If anything, it'd be me going there."
(link:"Nodding, you turn back to the group.")[(set:$astopeCTalk's 4th to 1)(set:$astopeCTalk's 5th to $astopeCTalk's 5th + 1)(goto:"AstopeCheckpointSpeak2")]{(if:$astopeCTalk's 5th is 1)[As your conversation comes to a lull, so too does the light chatter that everyone else has taken to. Whether by coincidence or intention, they keep themselves from bringing up anything further to their chosen speaking partners. It's almost like an invitation to speak with them.]
(elseif:$astopeCTalk's 5th is 2)[Now that you've spoken with a few people, the nervous air that gathered upon your arrival has faded a bit. There's still some uncertainty given your status, but you haven't called out for any executions, so you're at least not a tyrant in their eyes.]
(elseif:$astopeCTalk's 5th is 3)[With almost everyone spoken to, the surprise of your initial appearance has completely worn off. Whoever you haven't spoken to yet still steals glances here and there, while the others are already engrossed in their own activities and conversations.]
(else:)[Now that you've spoken to everyone, all of them are giving their goodbyes in some subtle way or another. They know you're departing already.]}
You decide to have a word with...
(if:$astopeCTalk's 1st is 0)[[[the farmer couple.->AstopeCheckFarmers]]](else:)[Torly and Jenora are talking excitedly about the gift the knight brought them.]
(if:$astopeCTalk's 2nd is 0)[[[the priestess.->AstopeCheckPriestess]]](else:)[Wiothida appears to be in the midst of a prayer.]
(if:$astopeCTalk's 3rd is 0)[[[the performers.->AstopeCheckPerformers]]](else:)[Camori, Sogites and Mitrekos are busy preparing inside of their wagon.]
(if:$astopeCTalk's 4th is 0)[[[the silent man.->AstopeCheckTribe]]](else:)[Yominh is back to reciting by himself.]
[[Fiomuid, preparing to leave.->AstopeCheckLeave]]
The farmers are all too eager to make your acquaintance, comfortable enough even to start beckoning you over once it's clear that you're headed their way.
When you stop in front of them, it's the man who speaks first.
"This fine woman is my wife of 11 years, Jenora." It's readily apparent that he's proud of his wife, not only from the shy smile that he has on but from the gentle way he holds her waist. The only thing that doesn't quite look right is his other hand, which is balled into a nervous fist and held tightly at his side.
"This hunk of beef is Torly," she says as she smacks him on the back twice with two solid thumps, making him sputter. It's not only Jenora who bursts into laughter, but the nearby performers who must've been listening in on the conversation as well. (if:$astopeCTalk's 3rd is 1)[You think you can hear Camori's laughter especially as the loudest. It rings clear even from inside the wagon he's in.]
Torly looks understandably embarrassed on his part, but even though he wilts you don't get the sense that his self-esteem is damaged at all. In fact, given the big puppy-like eyes he gives his wife, you reckon that this is a fairly common occurrence. No, the only reason he's like this is-
"I thought you'd've not done this to royalty! Shoot, and I was trying my best to impress him. He might've given us something real nice and pretty for being proper-like!"
There certainly are stories of royalty bestowing great gifts. The details tend to be exaggerated over time, but there are many kings and queens who have done so in the past- some hailing from Wevendh, whose blood now flows in your veins. That being said, you don't exactly make it a habit of doing such.
Now that he thinks that they've squandered their chance, Torly relaxes. He looks a whole lot more natural with one hand tucked into the bande of his trousers. Jenora recognizes this as well, and pulls Torly down into a big kiss. It's a chaste one, but (if:$astopeCTalk's 3rd is 0)[the performers have] (else:)[Camori, peeking his head out from next to the curtain, has] a bit of fun whistling and cheering, turning heads of people even outside of the group.
When at last they part, Torly grabs his hat and starts fanning himself with it.
Stifling the amusement you had for a second, you ask them the question that's been burning in your mind. "A raffle? I hadn't heard of Astope doing such things recently."
"Didn't get them from Astope." Jenora says before pursing her lips. "At least, we didn't. We just went up to Dewhaerst to get our taxes sorted, and there happened to be a Cabinet meeting. Torly wanted to go and see all the Ministers. One of them's his aunt's sister-in-law. Things were all the usual until Malster piped up all of a sudden. Said he had tickets that he couldn't use. Old Woodbeard suggested he raffle them off, and we won."
"The Prime Minister was there?" (if:$endAgerhaerst is false)[You automatically switch into info-gathering mode. The hostility coming from him is such that you can't even ask what you've done to offend him. You might be able to get an inkling about what caused his sudden attitude switch toward you. "Did he happen to mention anything about me or Wevendh?"]
The couple share a knowing look and a hearty chuckle. You get the feeling that some silent communication happens between them then and there, since Torly nods and answers.
"Not officially. He's a real stickler for being professional. Only ever talks in the Cabinet when he needs to, and when he's patrolling, you'd think he only talks about reports!" He shakes his head and tuts. "But at the end of the day, the Ministers are people. We happened to be at the inn he was drinking at, and he could barely keep his trap shut! He wants to find something real bad, but he wouldn't say what. Just kept asking the poor knights he was with."
Very informative. You nod your thanks and call over a nearby knight, instructing him to find some memento or another that the couple would enjoy. At the sight of you giving some coin to the knight, Jenora and Torly thank you profusely even as you (link:"turn back toward the group.")[(set:$astopeCTalk's 1st to 1)(set:$astopeCTalk's 5th to $astopeCTalk's 5th + 1)(goto:"AstopeCheckpointSpeak2")]Before you can even make it to the performers, they come to you.
You pause in your tracks as two of them start running. Combat training kicks in and you reach for your dagger- which isn't there, not in these clothes. Your eyes dart to the side, locating one of your knights. In an instant you formulate a plan to get over to them should things go ugly.
With wild grins on their faces, the runners launch into the air. Prepared to dodge any projectiles they may throw, you flinch when they instead land on their hands. You very nearly yell out for your Guard, but stop yourself just in time to see the performers rolling in large cartwheels around you.
The third finally makes their appearance, playing a vielle at a feverish pace. You are quite familiar with the instrument, from its slow, haunting renditions to the more cheerful uses in Wevendh's traditional tunes- but this is like nothing you've ever heard before. There is something less refined, more primal about the mad music that he seems to be playing. You know that it's an actual song given the variety of notes and motifs that you pick up on, but the pace is such that you get swept up into it rather than focus on any single part.
It's the same for the previously-cartwheeling performers, who have now switched into displays of flexibility, at once dancing to the music and at the same time folding and adjusting themselves in positions you thought impossible. It is especially true when they meet up, climbing atop each other with an almost morbid grace.
You're not just an idle bystander, either; they soon close in on you, one asking if you can throw them up as high as you possibly can. You don't have time to question or argue as the music reaches a crescendo. Your hands snatch the waist of the performer who launched themselves at you, and with one big heave you send them high into the air.
The breath you try to take is cut short when the other acrobat follows their partner. They very nearly crash into your face but, with a combination of combat training and instinct, you manage to bend backward just enough as you grab them. Swinging them down and to the side, carrying the momentum, spin all the way around and toss them right into the sky.
Spinning in tight balls, they stay up there for much longer than you expect. Although the crowd that's formed oohs and aahs at the sight skyward, you instead look toward the viellist. Like green smoke, subtle wisps of magic fly off of the strings each time his bow slides across them. The thick makeup he wears hides it extremely well, but when you tilt your head, you can see the gleam of sweat on his brow.
You're the only one who doesn't gasp when the first performer reaches the ground unscathed, but you join them when the music comes to an abrupt stop. The acrobat still in the air starts plummeting straight to the ground.
The uncertainty of whether this was planned drives your heart to thump in your ears. With each thump, the performer gets closer and closer to the ground. Driving your heel backward, you prepare to catch them in case things get awry-
Only for the first performer to jump even higher than you could, grabbing their partner and gently floating down to the resounding climax of vielle music.
All three performers gather around you and bow before hastily tugging you away to behind their wagon, (mostly) away from the prying eyes of the impromptu crowd.
"I'm Camori-" the first performer says brightly.
"And I'm Sogites," the other finishes.
As they bow, you finally get the chance to look at them closely. They are both sprightly young men with similar lithe and athletic builds. As noted earlier, they wear pailette-embedded bodysuits, both with red bodies. However, the theme diverges from there.
Everything about Camori is bright; his hair and the patterns of his bodysuit are the same shade of strong yellow, and curl and twist in much the same way. Now that you're up close, you can see some unnatural stiffness to the strands of hair- it's not a wig since you can see his roots, but it must be some kind of dye. Dominating the right side of his face, centered around his eye, is a stylized sun.
Sogites, on the other hand, is quite dark. Using the same kind of dye but in a deep midnight blue, his hair remains perfectly straight in spite of the wild rolling he and Camori just did. Unlike the twisted patterns of his partner, his bodysuit is decorated with straight lines at different angles. A crescent moon curves around his left eye, sharpening his already strong look.
"It is a pleasure to meet the two of you." You shake their hastily-offered hands before turning to the third. "May I ask who you are, mage?"
The viellist shrugs off his hood, freeing twitching antennae and bangs long enough to cover his blue-green eyes. He shakes his head, his messy brown and white hair releasing sparkling flecks into the air.
"You saw the key point of our act, then. I'd expect nothing less from royalty."
"Perhaps. I admit that I'm still surprised- there aren't many butterfly Diermies around."
The viellist absentmindedly twirls strands from one of the big white spots on his hair, disrupting the illusion of eyes. His laugh is short and curt. "They just aren't here. Ah, but that's not what you asked. My name is Mitrekos, and as you've said, I am a mage."
"Not one from the Floating Citadel, I'd imagine." {(if:$endFloatingCitadel is true)
[(unless:$timoSlave is true)[Timo's not exactly someone who would think to tell you about certain people unless they're directly involved with him. Even then, you doubt he'd actually know their names unless they're part of the Council.
(if:$timoMarriage is true)[This is especially true now that you're his husband. His gushing over you is great for your relationship; not so great if you're trying to glean information.]
(else:)[The Council themselves don't really offer up such information unless you directly ask for it anyway. You have many uses for magic, but not many that require a specific mage.]
]
(else:)[Forget asking the Council about that. You have the hostage necessary to order them around if you really need it, but any query without any real purpose behind it would just anger them further. You need to conserve asking power for when you actually need it.]
]
(else:)[This is more a probing statement than an actual assertion, seeing as you have yet to visit the Floating Citadel. You're simply going off your image of the Citadel mages, which tends to be a bit more refined and specialized. It's difficult to imagine one using their magic in Astope shows- at least, not as a supporting act.]}
"You'd be correct. We do intend to visit the Citadel at one point, actually. It'd be interesting to see how their more regulated teaching holds up against the places we've been to- ah, but that's neither here nor there. Excuse us. We've a lot to prepare for our shows tonight."
Mitrekos spins on his heel and climbs the stairs up to the wagon, where he roughly jerks its curtain closed. While this would normally be spiteful, the awkward way he went about speaking suggests that he's just bad at interacting with people. Camori gives a shrug before bouncing in after him. That only leaves you and Sogites together, stewing in the relative silence.
You are just about to excuse yourself when Sogites' intimidating look melts into one of genuine gratitude.
"I just wanted to say thank you. Sorry, I got- I got a little choked up there." He raps his knuckles against the middle of his chest, as if to clear out a blockage there. "You see, it's always been my dream to perform for royalty. I didn't expect to fulfill my dream here and now, but I am thankful regardless. Please, if you happen to meet us again, don't hesitate to ask for our performance. Even if Camori and Mitrekos refuse, I'll be more than happy to dance for you again."
He practically leaps inside the wagon, almost catching the curtain and tearing it off its rod. There is a bit of a fuss from inside before all goes quiet again.
You (link:"turn back toward the group")[(set:$astopeCTalk's 3rd to 1)(set:$astopeCTalk's 5th to $astopeCTalk's 5th + 1)(goto:"AstopeCheckpointSpeak2")], which has thinned down to its normal numbers. The crowd watching the show has already dispersed.Fiomuid picks up on the fact that you're walking toward him rather quickly, and joins your side. "We've gotten all that we need for the journey ahead. We're ready to head straight to Actapetra."
"I want to see the rest of the checkpoint."
(link:'"Let us go, then."')[(set:$routeATP to 4)(goto:"AstopeTravelTerritory2")]The sound of rushing water signals your arrival at one of Astope's many bridges. You know this river as Lautheim, Wevendh's biggest river and site of many waterfalls, that runs almost straight across the mountains before diverting to the north. Astopeans know it as Eio Artsteslaoph, and also a much different river. Trading verticality for width, it is much wider than it is in Wevendh, even here at this meander. It more than doubles its size when it spills out next to Actapetra into the sea, which is why you're crossing the bridge now rather than attempting it in the much busier city.
Not to say that this is not busy already, however. While there are still living spaces and inns lining the main road, you can already see how more and more squares are dedicated to entertainment. You also start seeing more deviation away from the normal square design of buildings as more specialized venues appear, but they are still sectioned off such that they don't interfere with the blocks.
This is all done following the bend of the river, but the change is so gradual that you can hardly tell the difference.
And so it continues to be as you travel north and eastward. You cross a tributary used mostly by visiting soldiers from Aesis. There is a little bit of influence from them on the surrounding town, but not enough for there to be any major differences.
The closer you get to the capital, the greater the hustle and bustle of life becomes. While this is to be expected from every nation, development attracting greater numbers of people to stay, it is wholly different in Astope. Whereas other nations' rumble of life carries a range of emotions, both positive and negative, Astope's is almost entirely one of mirth and entertainment. Any grumbles or complaints there might have been are drowned out by the joy everyone seems to be experiencing.
The veil of night is pierced by the multitude of lamps, extinguishing all of the stars in the night sky, leaving only the moon. Perhaps even the moon wants to experience the center of joy you arrive at: [[Actapetra.->AstopeCapitalEnter]]The warmth and spice of cinnamon hits you as strongly as the sight of uninhibited red- not dark garnet, rosewood, nor even poppy like the fabrics outside, but red like fire. It spills out in wavy- even curly at some points- locks of hair, flaring out almost like the mane of a lion. You blink and one becomes two as they step out to your sides, identical green and yellow eyes looking at you with unhidden glee.
"Ypolophon, Agiomedes," you say with a calculated smile, focusing your gaze between them rather than at either of them specifically. When they're like this, it is impossible to tell which one is which.
Even beyond their identical features and overall physique, they dress the exact same way as well. The coat they wear teeters on their shoulders, the immense neckline plunging in a large V both in the front and back. With a body of soft red bordered by beige on the edges and cuffs, the baggy garment has been tailored so that, instead of falling straight down, it curves into their waistline. The only reason the coat doesn't slip right off of them are buckles on both sides, connecting it to a golden collar that sits snugly around their necks.
The way the coat is positioned would have given you a view of nearly their entire upper torso had the collar not continued into a skintight shoulderless black shirt. Although they remain still, letting you drink in every aspect of their outfit, the shirt shimmers like the night sky. Without pailettes or gems, the only explanation left is simply magic. Additionally, the dark fabric is just slightly transparent. When it's not shimmering, you can see their pert nipples and lightly toned bodies underneath.
The coat and shirt tuck neatly into several bands of golden cloth. While together they act as a belt on his hips, some of the bands are left free to hang at varying lengths. The ones that do hang are patterned, unlike the ones that don't. They rest atop trousers that start off beige but transitions into red as the fabric on each leg flares out, creating an exaggerated bell bottom. You can just barely spot their toes and the sandals they wear underneath.
It's only when you stop your scanning that they move, and the one on the right finally speaks. "What fortune. It is one thing to see a masterpiece, one thing still to see it at the moment that it is complete- but so rarely does one see the artisan himself who, satisfied in his accomplishment, expresses joy so fleeting it in of itself becomes art."
"No, brother. We are masterpieces of our own making, already unveiled to the world at large. What we are witness to is the artisan in quiet contemplation, not of the swimming blankness of the before-thought, but of thought-after as dried paint, of songs sung, in plays performed. The art to be found is within the inspiration the artisan takes, and how new is derived from classic, then morphed into classic once more."
They both nod sagely.
While they decorate their prose heavily in their letters, it is not altogether dissimilar from the way they speak. Words do not tumble so much as stream from their lips, complicated ideas expressed in an equally complicated way. It's not that they can't simplify their thoughts, but rather that they do it entirely on purpose.
Deciphering their words is almost like a challenge to the listener. In this case, you've been around it for long enough that you understand this much.
"Those are choice words for someone who hasn't said what they're doing, and one who hasn't been invited in at that."
"How rude of us," they say in unison, their grins telling a different story than their words. They trade only the slightest of glances at each other before they're each taking a hold of your sleeve, leading you [[further into their abode.->TwinsReminisce]]It isn't long before you end up on the third floor, and inside the actual bedroom that the twins share. You're fully aware that this isn't normal protocol given the fact that you went past several open sitting rooms, any of which would be appropriate for housing another royal during talks. Then again, the twins have been very clear that they've thrown away protocol when it comes to you.
Settling into one of three chairs facing each other in a triangle, you seize the chance to talk before the twins can restart their little linguistic game.
"This is the first time we've communicated in a very long time, is it not?" You hold up a hand, stopping the twin on the left from interjecting. "Aside from your letters, of which you have sent enough to write a play from, I'd imagine."
Instead of replying immediately, the two of them smile coyly.
This time it is the one on the right who speaks. "Your forthrightness is appreciated, so we'll return it in kind. We are well aware how time-consuming it is to rule, especially for how suddenly you had to take the responsibility. Still, we have heard (if:$endCount is >5)[no end to the stories, to the great deeds you have accomplished. Already, our people are rushing to engrave your name into their works so that they may make a name for themselves. Do not fault them- perhaps they will make that which transcends time. If not, forgive them for the embellishments they make."](elseif:$endCount is >2)[a few tidings of your deeds. But you know how people oft exaggerate. When the discussion is over, perhaps you can regale us with what actually happened. The stories need to be pored over with much more careful hands- ones that actually know where to embellish, so the truth is not masked entirely."](elseif:$endCount is >0)[that you've done something somewhere else? Oh, the details are far too hazy. Forgive us- details don't carry well here. Not unless a work is popularized,, anyway. We'd be more than happy to hear what you've done if you'd like to say that after our little discussion here."](else:)[that Wevendh is in good hands. There are many plays that take place during the transition of power- not because it is a peaceful thing, but because it so often includes betrayal, intrigue, and perhaps even war. Fret not. You have already done better than many- you will do better than more, given time."]
Those are certainly some nice words. It seems they can express things in a more platonic fashion after all.
"That's not the point of my visit, as pleasant as it may be to hear. There are things that must be discussed in this fashion, rather than over letter."
"Oh? Do tell," the twins say in unison. "What are you here for?"
"To...
[[see this play."->TwinsPlay]]
find my brother."
marry you."
take Astope from you."The closeness you've had with the twins was always mirrored with distance.
Really, it all started in those sparse moments when you and your family approached them after the curtains closed and the theater emptied.
Officially, all you were doing was complimenting them on a wonderful performance as part of the royal family. More an extension of Wevendh's goodwill rather than any expression of actual opinion- not that the twins' shows were anything short of amazing. But they always treated you a little differently. Their smiles would grow the longer they talked to you, their gazes would linger on you for just a second too long after the conversation ended, or you'd catch them looking at you even when they were speaking to your brother.
Of course, none of you could say anything with the rest of your family around.
Being the second son entitled you to the twins' performances and discussions with them. The idea of lengthy discussions that would be covered by your parents and, later, your brother, wasn't exactly attractive to a young prince who was never supposed to deal with any of that. You never joined them, but you were also never content to simply wait there like a chained puppy. With all the freedom afforded to one who was never supposed to wear the crown, you prowled the passages, making yourself known to the ensemble there.
When you returned to your lodgings much later in the night, your brother nearly chewed your ear off with worried hypotheticals of what he thought happened to you. Thankfully, your mother stepped in and told him that you were old enough to take care of yourself. When you did the same the next few times, even your brother relented.
That's how, one day, you found yourself visiting the theater ahead of schedule.
Just about everyone was in a state of hurried, frantic preparation, even the guards outside who were preparing boxes to take tickets. They let you in after lamenting about the rush of people that would be coming- the crowds were always worse on days when the Diarchs performed, they said. Inside was hardly different, with members of the ensemble exchanging only a few short sentences before something else caught their attention.
The chaos made it even easier to roam around, so much so that, when you chanced upon a dressing room that you knew to be empty from your previous walks, you threw its doors open confidently.
Except that it wasn't empty after all, with two identical faces looking at you in surprise. Sitting with only their leggings on and with makeup half done, they nonetheless recovered quickly and beckoned you closer. With a gulp and no other choice, you came forward and into the seat they pulled up between them.
"What cacophany. It is a thundering, shattering thing- ugly in its forceful nature, uncouth in its insistence. That infuriating general has taken leave, and yet the sound of battle clings to the walls, unnoticed to all by myself. A terrible fortune it is, for a dragon has swooped into my kingdom and taken my heart, and the guards have not even taken notice of it!"
You learned later that that was Agiomedes, as he went on to recite nearly the same lines on stage, completely embodying his role as a prince frustrated over his infatuation with his general. Accompanying him, sitting high above the stage on a raised platform, was Ypolophon. Dressed as a moon god, his gentle singing was so precise it mimicked an instrument.
"The line is 'a thief has snuck into my kingdom', brother," Ypolophon said, even his speaking voice carrying a sing-songy lilt.
Agiomedes giggled at that. "You know better than I that the spontaneous pulls at the heartstrings like no other. How else would we have gotten the unattainable within reach?"
You continued to speak with the twins even as they got closer and closer, until their heads were almost leaning on your shoulders. Occasionally, when you turned your head to the twin who was speaking, their hair would brush up against you, once again hammering in just how near they'd placed themselves. It got to a point where, when the conversation reached a lull, the room quickly filled with tension that practically smothered you.
Then a cast member barged in, tutting that they were hardly ready with the show about to start. They took leave of you, and you rejoined your family.
The fact that you've entered their most private quarters- as a king, no longer a prince, no less- means that things have changed. The line that had been separating you from the twins [[has been crossed.->TwinsTalk]]"And in the moment the planets align, would the stars be our witnesses?" The twin on the left bursts into song, identifying himself as Ypolophon.
Agiomedes pouts, tapping his brother on the shoulder. "You ruined the game! He was supposed to have guessed before we made it obvious."
"Come now, brother, he knows better than to guess. He knows how to avoid hurting our feelings. To hide ourselves further is folly when we are to talk of the play ahead. Did you intend to dance around the specifics when it came to them?"
The pout deepens, but his brother offers no rebuttal. You decide to reply in his stead. "I hardly need the specifics when I'm about to witness it firsthand. That's how it was when we first met, wasn't it?"
The twins pause, sudden emotion rushing into their faces. Agiomedes being a trained actor, he hides it nearly the second you look at his face trying to understand what it is. Ypolophon, on the other hand, wears his joy openly, if softly.
"If that's the case," Agiomedes says, "then you are welcome to stay with us here. We have quarters available."
You wait for any further explanation, such as where to go or which guard to speak to in order to reach those quarters, but the twins are already rising. Ypolophon must have noticed the jerky way you stood up, as he lags behind his fast-moving brother to speak to you.
"It does well to immerse oneself in the before, and to trace the steps so thoroughly worn by others, even if you yourself had carved them. There is time aplenty to do so in your own lands, surely? You've been welcomed into the City of Dreams- the lodgings of others will not do. You are a cherished guest, and it is our responsibility to give you the novel. You will sleep [[here.->TwinsRoom]]"You can't help but glance over to the bed, at which Ypolophon laughs. Even that unprompted use of his voice is like warbling birdsong, a far cry from his brother's more raucous guffaws. Once more he takes a hold of your sleeve and brings you right out of their room, giggling even more when you breathe a sigh of relief.
Crossed arms and tapping feet, Agiomedes waits for you all the way at the end of the hallway, near the stairs. When the two of you come near him, the jealousy rolling off of his pout is thick enough you can practically feel it. "You were supposed to follow, not serenade him."
"Paranoia is an ugly cut for you, brother. You are lucky envy suits your figure."
"Oh, please. We all know that we'd both like to clothe ourselves in-" As soon as his eyes flicker to yours, his mouth clamps shut. He elects to grab your sleeve, causing Ypolophon to roll his eyes teasingly.
The two brothers lead you down the carpeted stairs, passing by other rooms. Now that you're focused on looking around, you start noticing the twins' tastes more and more. By and large they have a much more open idea of rooms, once again mirroring the sudden stops and starts of the outside, but in a more elegant fashion. Using a combination of small arches and tall, missing wall sections, they deemphasize certain passageways with the former and further emphasize with the latter.
The banquet hall that you peek into while walking is a great example of both, with main entrances intended for guests on three of its walls, with the remaining wall leading to a kitchen. Rather than having one long table as you've come to expect (after all, that's the style you have in your own castle), they have multiple smaller tables placed at greater distances. Intimacy and space interplay with eachother, the more secluded tables also allowing for greater ease of movement in between.
And that's a concept that's carried throughout the entire abode, not only in furniture but in decorations. In that regard it's not completely unfamiliar, since Wevendh's art values the negative space in between complex patterns as much as the pattern itself.
You have no idea how they make square and oval frames fit together in a neat square just by adding a few linear frames, and you're not about to ask.
[["Here we are,"->TwinsRoom2]] the twins say, stopping in front of a set of doors."So why me, exactly?"
"Your independence," the twins say together.
A wistful look settles over Agiomedes' face. Already, you can tell that he's switching into his more verbose way of speaking- not to toy with you, but to get across the complex feelings that you've stirred within him.
"On lofty clouds we lay, and like parting drops of rain after storm, our hands reach toward the rippling spine of the earth. In turn, the earth reaches for us in masses of man. We meet in song, splendor, the sumptuous- but we are bereft of touch. And we wept, for in the vastness of the sky we held no company but ourselves, who were already one whole. But avarice makes home in the heart, and though we wanted for nothing, we wanted everything."
Ypolophon clutches at his chest, the normal smoothness in his voice made jagged by emotional pain. "In the space between our hearts we placed effort. For a time, the maw that had nipped at our heels had ceased, and we found peace in the strain of the throat and the memorization of lines. But once more we found ourselves having climbed the hills, the mountains, even the stars themselves. And once more we wept, for the void had only grown."
"We... had almost resigned ourselves to it. The rote comforted us, somewhat, as the ink pooled around our bodies... until you came around."
The two pause, finally smiling, to look at each other. They emote rather rapidly between each other, different expressions filling in for words between them. It seems that even they don't know precisely what the other is thinking at any given moment.
Finally, Agiomedes continues. "There were many things that you could have been, but we didn't think that you were in any way real. We're no historians, but there are plays aplenty of nobles disguising one thing for another. When your family left, we played a game- maybe you were a bastard child who couldn't be rid of. A commoner hailed as a long lost son to secure a shaky bloodline. An invader who seized power from the actual family. Fanciful ideas came to us, and we said them as we pleased. After all, we assumed you were just there to push Wevendh's agenda, as all nobles do with their nations."
That's... certainly one way to look at it. Completely absent of remorse or restraint, Agiomedes continues laying leisurely as if he said nothing.
"Of course, we learned the truth later. While we do busy ourselves with the dramaticized, the factual isn't that hard to get a hold of as long as we get it ourselves. That wasn't the important part, anyway. Despite being prince, you took leave of those dreary conversations as easily as choosing which song to listen to. Your sense of purpose was to yourself."
Agiomedes snickers. "Such simple words, brother."
"And yet they convey the meaning." Ypolophon jabs back.
"The line of succession is very clear," you admit bashfully. "Even in periods of the most intense strife, Wevendh's rulers very rarely parted with the crown without intending to do so. Back then, it was clear that my brother was the perfect choice.(unless:$playerAgenda is "Brother")["](else:)[ I'm sure he still is. I just need to find him first."]
"Even still," Ypolophon says, pulling himself up and onto his side. With his head laying on his fist, he continues. "Many a poet has tried to put our sorrow into words, but even the Mestelour have gotten something wrong- we are not bothered by our differences."
Agiomedes turns onto his belly, kicking his feet in the air behind him. "Arrogant and terrible, we wield the fullness of our talents like a tyrant wields fear. Challenge us not, for our words are joy and our works merriment. We see the sparks of wonder all around, like countless fireflies, and, with grace, we string them together for the enjoyment and betterment of all."
"And therein lay our problem. It is all so obvious in stories. Selfish tyrants covet all and invite their death, while wise rulers give all and invite prosperity. So we gave everything we had, never stopping to consider what didn't benefit Astope or the world at large. It was, after all, what we saw in the rulers that came to us. The subtlety or lack thereof varied, but they always came back to their nation."
"Except for a single prince who refused to see us."
"It made us realize that we didn't have to give anything that we didn't want to, and so, with the full force of our being, we started //wanting.// And what we wanted so badly, so much so that it felt like our hearts had turned traitorous and were trying to escape us, was the person who made us realize that. You, of course."
"And now we have that." Agiomedes gives a big kiss to your cheek. "And I'm so thankful."
[[Continue.->TwinsMarriageTalk]]The twins practically run away with how quickly they take leave of you, presumably to take care of the giddy expressions they have.
As soon as the doors close behind you, you come face to face with a dragon.
Or, rather, a dragon meticulously painted in Wevendh's style, curling around two shooting stars on either end. If you hadn't been surrounded by the works of Wevendh's greatest artists from a very young age, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. It takes up too much space on the canvas, and the ends of the dragons are pointed rather than blunted, but it's still a very faithful reproduction.
You half-expect that everything else would be done in a similar fashion, but other than a few drake motifs etched into the wood of the wardrobe and the bed, everything is still Astopean. That this room was intended for you is unquestionable at this point, but whether this demonstrates only momentary consideration or purposeful restraint is still up in the air.
Shrugging off the outer layers of your garments, they land with an almost solid thump as you toss them onto the bed. The tiara you're far more careful with, setting it carefully off to the side Finally able to, you launch into a full yawn while stretching your arms out.
Absent of clothing on your upper body and, more importantly, the princely obligation that comes with it, you throw open the wardrobe with little regard. Inside, you find fresh sets of clothing for theatergoing and the travel back, both of which you carried with you. You were fully prepared to sleep in the latter, but there's a perfectly fine set of bedclothes of Wevendh make sitting conspicuously on top of a stack of Astopean ones.
Quickly depositing your used ones in the wardrobe, you inspect the remaining place you spotted ever since you entered; the adjoining bathroom.
You gladly take the opportunity to wash the signs of travel away from yourself. Before long, cleaned and dressed, you sink into the velvety cushions and let sleep [[claim you.->TwinsRoom3]]A //thud// wakes you from your slumber.
Blinking away your disorientation, you force your pounding heart to calm when your brain catches up. The sound wasn't from your room, nor the floor you were on. It came from above.
Hopping up, you inspect the ceiling for any fault or hole, but the architecture remains seamless. So it's neither an assassination attempt nor anything untoward where you're staying. Just in case, you slip the doors open carefully, watching the otherwise undisturbed moonlight move only when you do.
You sigh. Considering the fact that they haven't kicked up a ruckus by now, it's clear that the twins aren't dealing with anything untoward them as well. It seems that one or both of them had just dropped something.
They aren't exactly clumsy people, however. What could they possibly be doing at this hour? Rehearsing, perhaps? Is it even worth going upstairs to find out?
You...
go up to the twins' room.
[[just continue sleeping.->TwinsPlayDay]]From the very moment you wake, the air dances with an entirely different energy.
Freshening up quickly, you emerge from your room. The sun, peeking just over the horizon, greets you through the windows. You take a moment to breathe the last vestiges of the chilly night air and admire the sight. Nestled in tall mountains and castle walls as you are in Wevendh, you don't usually see the sun right as you wake unless you're traveling. The ray of orange glides over the waves, smoothing out the artificial light that casts out from the city when it reaches it.
The picturesque scene isn't complete, however. There's a conspicuous lack of two redheaded twins, both of whom excel at breaking the silence, one way or the other.
The answer to that, you find, is actually on top of one of the tables in the corner of your room. You've received so many of these that the sight is unmistakable, even though it lacks the usual curl that results from being tied as a scroll.
"Preparation is a show in of itself. You understand, right? Breakfast is in the banquet hall." reads the letter, perfumed with saffron as always. The fluorishes in the handwriting is all the same, too. Rather than hurry driving their quills, each loop and line is very much deliberate. You wouldn't be surprised if the first thing they did after waking was write this letter.
Either way, you do understand.
When you reach the banquet hall, just as they described, atop the centermost table lies assortments of different food. Pastries are piled high in baskets, while eggs lay on beds of fruit and herbs. The lack of meat stands out, but that's simply a characteristic of traditional Astopean food. Unless heavily salted, meat doesn't keep very well, which is critical for a nation that imports nearly all of its food. They forewent the salt route popular in Cmieloniki and Dusetmene, opting instead to largely ignore it.
You bite into one of the pastries with a satisfying //crunch//, the taste of honey and almond mixing beautifully on your tongue. And so the rest of the early morning goes, with you filling up on spiced delicacies and hearty egg dishes. You take your time; the play is [[some hours->TwinsPlayArrive]] yet.The casual morning burns away into the excitement of the midday and the resumption of your princely persona.
From your view at the palace, you can already tell that the capital is even more packed with people than it usually is. It is little wonder, what with the twins' performances billed as once-in-a-lifetime experiences. You would know. You've seen some of them already.
The combination of your dazzling outfit and your lonesome descent from the high stairs means that, by the time you're close enough to see the people at the gates, the guards have to disperse the crowd so that you can actually leave. When the gates swing open, several people try to move into your path, but no sooner do they take a step forward than they disappear back into the sidelines. Frowning, you catch the glimpse of a harlequin's diamond-patterned hat before it- and the person the hat's owner was pulling- disappear.
So it's not just the obvious guards patrolling the streets of Astope, then. Not that it's really your place to ask further, since you're a guest.
The roads remain suspiciously clear when you travel in your carriage, even moreso than the day prior. You're never quite in a position to see the cause of this, as the sides continually fill with people walking, standing and staring. Some recognize you and eagerly shout your name, blushing or screaming eagerly whenever you turn your gaze to them.
It's... not entirely unexpected, you suppose? It's no secret that people admire certain leaders in a romantic fashion, although you never really counted yourself among their rank. Frateo's is the most popular choice, followed by Qadogom, Dusetmene, and Krozulan split between differing tastes. There are a great number of Wevendh's nobles looking to catch your eye, but from what you can tell, few of these bystanders are nobles at all. They're certainly not actually trying to win your hand with these exaggerated displays.
The occurrences puzzle you and keeps you occupied right up until the moment your carriage halts. With the door opening, you have no choice but to tuck that idea away and focus on grace as you exit your carriage with a smile and a wave. There are even more of these people that go wild from the gesture, held back only by bright red banners acting as ropes held between tanchions.
You don't have the time to focus on this either, as guards come up from behind you. Although they don't breathe a single word to you, their constant, close presence at your back is a pushing force all on its own. By the time you've reached halfway to the entrance, you've already hit a stride, making sure to gesture and smile every so often so that these people are satisfied.
Soon enough, you're near enough to the entrance that you can see large murals painted to the sides of the doors declaring the play you're about to see. For the most part, they are designed similarly to the ticket you received, but there's something strange near the bottom. You spot the twins' names- Ypolophon and Agiomedes- easily enough, the star performers receiving larger lettering.
Unfortunately, you can't place exactly what is strange about it since your pace cannot be stopped now. The guards quickly circle to the front and open the doors for you. You regard the dark hallway for only a second before you [[step into it.->TwinsPlaySeating]]It's a simple technique, but quite an effective one. The darkness of the walls and flooring doesn't come from the lack of light. No, the magical torches burn inside of here all the same. They're painted black.
It serves to help separate the outside from the inside. With the city providing a million and one possible stories to immerse oneself in, this serves as a brief period of nothing that helps people cast away the million, leaving behind the one that this theater provides. That's what your brother told you, anyway. He was quite excited to see the effect personally after reading about it in one of his books.
At the end of the hallway you emerge into the performance chamber, shaped like a massive circle. You look toward the balcony, spotting the section you've sat in time and time again. However, when you go to ascend the stairs, the guard shakes his head at you and points at the stage.
Most of the lights have gone out, leaving only the torches of the hallway to illuminate the exit near the audience and a single circular light to do the same for the stage. Purposeful dimming ensures that the audience and the outermost parts of the raised platform are entirely cast in shadow, leaving only the centermost part of the stage properly lit. The space is dominated by a tree, but a rather odd one. Instead of growing straight up, this tree has not only grown to the side but become thick enough to split into two different trunks. It is remarkably realistic for something that may just be theatrical scenery.
With the other props and scenery on the stage too shadowed over for you to see even when you ascend the stairs of the platform, you eventually make it right in front of the tree. Now that you're up close, you can see a slight deviation on the bark of the lower trunk. Unlike the rough, horizontally cracked texture of the rest of the tree, there's a part that's unnaturally smooth. Ah, you get it now. If you sit here, not only are the branches trimmed in such a way that none of them can block you, but your head is neatly framed against the dark brown background that is the upper tree trunk. Your bright clothes and shining tiara guarantees that you stay a focal point.
Speaking of which, while they are a lot more restrictive than your travel clothes, you're more than limber enough to make up for it. A part of you rationalizes the urge that hits you- Astope is known for performances, so a performative action would net you some approval. Another part of you just likes the thrill. And so you jump, drawing shocked noises from the crowd.
When you land perfectly on the seat, not even your tiara askew (you held on to it for dear life), they erupt into applause before the play even starts.
Ypolophon's laughter weaves through the noise just as [[two other lights flickers to life.->TwinsPlayStart]]To the front and left of you, framed by rows of upright palm fronds, lounges Ypolophon. Gone is the gentle-mannered and composed twin from before, replaced by a man in full disarray. Laying sideways across a gilded throne, his brown ponytail brushes against the ground with every movement he makes. And there are many of those as he hums to himself, throwing the finely decorated drinking horn he holds to and fro to the jagged rhythm. With each lurch he makes, the more his garments jostle and start to come undone. Already shirtless, the feathery white and yellow wings that wrap around his legs in a skirt slip down on one side, further and further, until his iliac furrow is on tantalizing display. He pauses his humming only to drink from the horn, showing off his face, flushed red.
Once again to the front but on the right this time, Agiomedes stands in the middle of an octagonal assortment of racks, each of which is filled to the brim with scrolls. Like his brother, he has done away with his usual carefreeness and impulsive attitude, and replaced it with a layer of icy precision. Although swathed in a three-layered robe of blue, white, and dark green, and trimmed and tasseled with bone, not a single part is out of place. The voluminous folds and complicated patterns seem to have been designed so that, even though he is holding and reading a scroll with both hands, the symmetry remains undisturbed. Other than a furrowed brow, it is impossible to glean any sort of emotion from his body language.
A few seconds go by before another light comes on, at the edge of the stage and between the twins. Nimble actors jump onto the stage, landing perfectly inside the circle of light. They each kick one leg out and to the side as they lean toward each other, one hand cupped around their mouth. Despite how exaggerated the pose is, you can tell that they're supposed to be whispering to each other.
One of them, a woman, has long, floppy rabbit ears underneath a round hat. They're not just convincing stage dress either, as they stand pointed and up at attention as she begins speaking.
"The days have gone by in a flurry, and yet the moon remains frozen at the halfway point. The mortals grow concerned, and the prayers they send up to our masters grows by the second. In fickle and impetuous nature, the major gods turn away their prayers with ease, but the mortals have taken to beseeching minor gods who cannot do the same. Why, then, are the moonshapers idle? Open the doors, for I represent them."
"You will find succor in the main hall, but you will go no farther." That actor gestures opening a door, which they both 'enter' on light feet and pointed toes.
The messenger attempts to go to her right, at which point the doorkeeper spins into her path. His hand raises, this time in a stopping motion. "The God of Alcohol and the Waning Crescent Moon has bade us not to disturb his revelry."
Putting her hands on her hips, the messenger looks at him with annoyance. "For what does Lord Zuazulil revel? Has he not cored the moon, filled it with drink, and allowed the gods to partake of it? Speak not, for the truth is already known to me. Gods gathered in brilliance such that it would blind any mortal, and gladly plunged their cups into the drinking bowl. In the midst of laughter like earthquakes and gulps like the crashing storm, Lord Zuazulil led the others in drunken dance."
"You know, then, that the moon overflows, and the cup of his make is drowned in dark liquid. You must have seen that he steals away, even during the height of revelry, to snatch the drops of alcohol that float into the night sky so that he may give it to the mortals."
"That task has been accomplished also. The gods care not for his mortal dalliances, so long as the cup he makes brims with the divine drink. As always, he descended upon the earth and, when he finished, returned here."
The doorkeeper sighs and shakes his head even as Ypolophon- Zuazulil, you correct yourself- stands up and heads toward you.
[["Therein lies the source of his revelry."->TwinsPlayZuazulilMeet]]The light above the doorkeeper and messenger shuts off suddenly, and the exact moment it does so, they slink away artfully into the darkness. Even though you're much closer than the audience, the way they move makes it very difficult to track, at least until they stop at the sidelines. They appear almost as silhouettes.
Now repositioned, the doorkeeper continues. "My master had just visited all of the mortal breweries, and with his horn emptied of the undrank, he was struck by a flight of fancy. He said--"
"Why don't I have a look at what these adorable little humans have done with the world while we were drinking?" Zuazulil picks up, brimming with an almost dominating confidence.
How is it that the gentle Ypolophon swaggers around with such power yet ease? As you stare at him making such decisive steps, your mind can't help but fill in details that you hadn't noticed before. Though he wears nothing on his bare feet, you swear that he looks a fair bit taller. Perhaps it is the straighter posture he uses. You've seen, at least in portion, the softer, less defined muscles that he has. And yet, perhaps due to makeup or some trick of the light, it looks like his muscles have bulked up and become more defined.
You don't have that much time to mull on it, however, as Zuazulil leaps and lands back-first onto the grass right in front of you. That's strange. You don't exactly recall there being grass there, even though you were sitting here for a while now. Leaves flutter about as a result of Zuazulil's careless leap, so you settle down and reason that the leaves were just hiding the grass.
"Ah, as I thought. A flowering meadow is so much better when it's tended to. None of those nasty thorns!" The god talks aloud to himself as he starts rolling from side to side, stopping only to pour an almost obscene amount of alcohol into his waiting mouth. The smell is so strong it burns at your nose, but he chugs it with the same ease as one does water. "Oh, I wish I had some cheese."
He raises his hand, which immediately crackles with red and yellow sparks. Faintly, from way off to the side, you can hear someone yell 'Hey!' Bewildered, you watch as a piece of cheese flies from the shadows and straight into Zuazulil's waiting hand. His eyes still closed, he greedily bites into the cheese, oblivious to the crumbles falling from his mouth and hand.
"Reason's for hardship," he starts in a jaunty tune. Despite being slightly slurred, in the fashion of a drunkard, the tone of his voice rings out crystal clear. "Thinking's for the afterparty. While the moon is still dark, let's drink, drink, drink! The sun hasn't risen, it's not dawn until I say so, so take leave of all your senses and sing, sing, sing! You need nothing but the instinct, the present, and emotion, so while the moon is still shattered, the party is king!"
Zuazulil grins and throws his eyes open. His expression goes from the mindless cheer he sang about, to confusion, to cheekiness. "I didn't see you at the party."
"I'm not one for alcohol," [[you suddenly blurt out.->TwinsPlayZuazulil2]]Despite the shock in your mind, your words don't falter in the slightest. In fact, you said it with an almost teasing lilt. It's impossible to ignore now, especially since you cross your leg over top the other and rest your head on your cheek.
Something about this performance is compelling you to act in a certain way. While this would be incredibly alarming, it doesn't appear as if the twins are endangering you or forcing you into things you wouldn't want. Rather... it appears that you're simply being drawn into the experience, embodying this unknown being. The thought almost makes you laugh.
''And why wouldn't you?''
The god beneath you is so amusing that you can't help it. Laughter spills out of your lips at the gall of a god who has no sense of image or decorum. The good-natured god joins you almost immediately, and the two of you spend some time doing nothing but throwing mirth into the air.
Just as suddenly as he started, Zuazulil cuts across your laughter. "No, but really, it's strange that I didn't see you there. What's wrong? The alcohol I make not to your liking? I've been experimenting with fruit lately. Have you tried strawberry? I don't know if that's a fruit or not."
Whether a strawberry is a fruit or not doesn't really interest you, so you ignore it entirely. "Solitude is the best companion."
Zuazulil launches into an exaggerated gasp, sitting up sharply. "You don't mean that. I may have my head in the clouds like the other gods say, but when they join me up there, I see what they're hiding. We're a fickle, easily-angered, bad-tempered bunch, but beneath all that lies loneliness. Why else would we answer the prayers of those adorable humans? Some of us don't like each other. Some of us hate each other, actually. Yet we still join up at the moon and put aside our differences to have some fun. Even that fuddy-duddy I share the moon with has a soft spot. I think you do too."
"You're the second best companion," you snicker, making Zuazulil pout.
He continues to sulk, plucking flowers up from the grassy meadow. "I poured my heart out for you, but you aren't even touching your chalice. Hmph. I get it now. You're one of those guys that likes bullying other people. Come to think of it, I don't actually know who you are! You might be a misfortune god, or even a curse one!"
You shake your head. [["I am Nriros, the God of Comets, Fire and Dragons."->NrirosReveal]]You open your mouth, letting a stream of fire out and into the air. The back of your mind, not quite engulfed by the compulsion, reminds you that you can't actually do this, and that you aren't sure how that happened. The rest of your psyche, however, doesn't even stop to think about it.
"C-Careful where you do that! Alcohol is flammable, you know!" Zuazulil, having stepped back a good distance, cradles his drinking horn to his chest. "Still, I thought your name was Iutean."
"In some locales and aspects, yes."
"I-I-I heard about you! Didn't you mess up up Yihubi pretty bad? He was spitting up fireworks for weeks!" The concern on Zuazulil's face fades. As he crosses his arms, he looks up and to the side to think. "That was actually a pretty fun time, all things considered. Fireworks and drums put everyone in the mood for a party, and though the moon hadn't been restored, we partied again. Ah, but- why'd you go and beat him up?"
You roll your eyes. "He said he brought fire to the skies. Can you imagine? He was so full of himself, saying that the sky was perfected only when his colors were in it. Obgebale of the Sky shares her domain with us all, and for that she deserves respect. She was infuriated, and she asked me to take vengeance on her behalf."
The sound of fireworks and the roaring of dragons come from underneath the stage, launching the audience into a buzz of fear.
"Wow, you're so scary. But you're also... so cool!" It's like a switch is flipped within Zuazulil, as he takes the story as encouragement to come even closer. Despite knowing full well what you're capable of, he is so bold as to take hold of one of your hands. "I've decided, then. I really, really like you."
"Do you take pleasure in fear and intimidation?" You say with a raised eyebrow.
"Maybe!" He answers, unfazed. "That's not the point, though. I see something in you, even without the haze of alcohol or revelry. And I've heard so much about you even though you never, ever come to my parties or drink what I make. I... would really like for you to try it sometime. I'll make something super, super special and, if you like it, you promise to come to one of my parties!"
While you said nothing of the sort, you can't deny such an earnest request. You hear many from human supplicants, but none quite like that of a god, let alone such a forceful one as this. You nod, smiling softly.
"It's decided! I'll go back up to the moon and brew up something so good you'll have no choice but to come!"
And with that, Zuazulil scurries off. Instead of taking the direct path to his throne, however, he ventures into the previously unlit portion of the stage behind you. Peeking from your tree seat, you see that the pathway is decorated with stars and planets. He circles around, past Agiomedes, the doorkeeper and the messenger, and only then does he flop onto his seat.
The doorkeeper and the messenger return to their positions and, remarkably, even Zuazulil seems to have taken the exact same pose you saw him earlier in.
[[Continue.->TwinsPlayExplanation]]The messenger bites on the tip of her thumb, her normally elegant pose disrupted when compared to that of the doorkeeper. Moments of dead silence pass before she sighs and assumes a different, sharper pose- one leg up, the other resting on it, one arm around her middle, and the other arched above her head.
"Fine. If the God of Alcohol sees it fit to entertain the Lord Nriros, I could not possibly object. That is not the will of Lord Vaenndyr, whose laws, though brutal, are fair. It matters little, for the moon is meant to be filling at this moment, and the divine duty lays elsewhere. Escort me, I will be seeing the other lord of the manor."
Faster this time, she makes for Agiomedes' side of the stage. The doorkeeper is no slouch, however, and blocks her path once again. "The God of Bones and the Full Moon has bade us not to disturb his study."
This time the messenger explodes, throwing her arms out wide and stomping her foot. "You would incur the wrath of Lord Vaenndyr? I warn you once and no further. The beasts of the earth do not venture to the moon only because their King wills them. But if he were to howl and leap, in his single bound, all the earthen beasts will join him and destroy this manor."
The doorkeeper shakes his head fervently. "I do not wish to anger Lord Vaenndyr, but my master was exceedingly clear: do not let anyone disturb his study. For his wrath is also to be feared, though it pierces not and tears not the flesh. His is that of grinding, his magical arts the whetstone- under his touch, bones crumble and becomes chalk."
"Be that as it may, the moon remains woefully incomplete. Lord Kanage-yuho must see reason, for his is a name invoked for the studious, and his image is enshrined by teachers. Tell me of the reason for his research, so that I may remind him of his divine duty."
The lights shut off and the two disappear once more, becoming silhouettes on the opposite side of the stage this time.
[[Continue.->TwinsPlayKanageMeet]]"My master had just finished reconstructing half of the moon when he found himself lacking bones. It had been some time since the last war, and all of his bones had already been made into the mortar for the moon. So, seeking to replenish his supply without draining all of his divine power in the process, he went down to the world in search of the biggest source of the bones, which was--"
"Right here." Agiomedes, or Kanage-yuho as he was introduced, steps gently into the meadow in which you are sitting. This time you know that it's the compulsion that makes you see him as more angular, more precise, and even a fair bit shorter than he actually is. When you focus hard enough on him, though, you can see through it just long enough to find Agiomedes eagerly taking on the role.
The compulsion is strong, however, and you find yourself instead noting how the bones that decorate him are roughly organized as to where they'd be found on a normal human skeleton. He isn't nearly gaudy enough to make it obvious, such as plastering a skull to the back of his head, but you glean this from the tassels that hang just as low as his fingers sporting their corresponding bones.
In the exact opposite manner of Zuazulil, he is observant enough to locate you immediately. It's less a testament to his acuity and more a demonstration of how odd the alcohol god truly was.
That isn't to say he isn't sharp, though.
"Greetings to you, oh Sovereign Lord of Fire, of the Tailed Stars, and the Winged Tyrants. In turn, I greet Nriros, Cuipedin, and Iutean."
Tossing both of his voluminous sleeves to the side, he flourishes one hand up before dipping it down gently. He holds there for a few seconds before tossing his arm down. A low, pleased grumble comes from deep within your throat. It is a formal greeting, and one very easy to get wrong. Had he not dipped his hand, it would have been an insult. Had he knelt, he would have signaled himself as subordinate. As it stands, he greets you as an equal.
"May I ask which aspect I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
Not to be outdone, your mouth begins to steam. The gentle heat gathering inside turns into smoke which leaks out of the sides of your mouth as you start smiling. When next you speak, your words are accentuated with small embers. "You speak to Nriros, whose will is the merciless flame. I am honored to speak with you, Clarity-upon-reflection, unbroken moon upon still water."
Kanage-yuho pauses, the ends of his lips tugging up almost imperceptibly. You don't need that sight to piece together the fact that he appreciates you using his native titles rather than the ones most other gods know him under. You know these because his lands have long fostered dragons, and your wards have uttered his name and titles time and time again. You can't fault him, really. It's nice to be greeted as three, even as currently one.
"I will not waste your time, then. I come seeking bones with which to build the moon. The humans have found a modicum of peace among themselves, and although that time is fated not to last, fields which have not seen battle carry few bones. I have considered speaking to the God of Beasts, but his wards consume and sully bone in too great a measure. The bones within this grove are untainted, and will make beautiful chalk."
You lean forward. "You are requesting that I give you bones out of my hoard?"
He nods.
[["No."->TwinsPlayKanage2]]He splutters, his well-crafted composure breaking then reforming shortly afterward. "This is an earnest request, one that needn't have been made had peace not visited our worshippers. Is there no goodwill to be had between us, we who have shown utter respect for each other?"
"It is the right and custom of dragons to scourge the earth, taking all that we want through blood, claws, and fire, leaving nothing but fear, anger, and death in our wake. We, who know nothing of producing, take pride in pointless excess, of materials we gather that have no use for us other than reminding us of victory. We take, and take, and take, until we are slain by man, god, or nature itself. We only part with our hoard in death or in the search of something greater."
Kanage-yuho v's his thumb and pointer finger across his face, covering his mouth. Much to his reputation as a studious god, he ponders for quite some time before speaking. "I do recall that you are not on the best terms with other gods and very rarely come to gatherings, if at all. If you wish it, I can act as an intermediary, or even a mouthpiece. Think of it as favor for bequeathing me this in my time of need."
Anger boils inside your gut, forcing more smoke out of your lips, almost thick enough to hide your glowing yellow eyes. "What use does flame have for words, which cannot be used as tinder? What use does the comet have for words, which cannot reach it in the heavens? Be thankful that I gathered these bones as a dragon would, for if I were flame or comet, the splintered ash would have been scattered to the corners of the world. If you wish to offer something to me, it must be physical, to assuage the draconic heart that beats within."
The icy exterior of Kanage's seems to melt as a faint dusting of red creeps onto his face. Why exactly this is happening you cannot fathom, but you are certain of one thing: he hasn't been faced with a dilemma like this before. You work on a completely different line of logic and reasoning to most other things. Could it be that he's flustered?
"Then I request only to take leave." He bites his lip, probably thinking better of a desire to ask you not to burn it all to ash. It's something you've seen before many times over. "When again I return, then I will have something worthy of your hoard and of the greed you possess."
And with that he retreats, circling round the stage in the same fashion but opposite direction as Zuazulil, right back to [[where it all started once more.->TwinsPlayConfront]]"And thus, intrigued by the problem before him, my master pored over all the scrolls in his care." The doorkeeper says, cutting back into the story once more. "He spent more and more time in his study, and as the months passed I found him transfixed upon the sights from his window in a fashion I have not seen before or since. I came upon him once, in the rare moments of slumber, where he muttered about a conundrum both vexing and drawing in equal measure, knowing the answer but as of yet unwilling to part with it."
The messenger wails, "Both lords of the manor are occupied? Great misfortune has befallen me, as I have no place on the world until I return with action or word. Having gained neither, I will waste away with no place set aside for me. I am cursed to wander the moon, which may never see completion!"
"Actually, we could set aside a room for you if we wanted. We have guest rooms," the doorkeeper says casually, earning a round of laughter from the audience.
"Then I will be asked to work my share, surely! But the laws of the moon are unknown to me, who comes from the grassy knolls of the earth, knowing only the laws beastly and godly. My fate is to toil away as servant, never seeing my debt erased for it was never counted!"
The doorkeeper raises an eyebrow. "We have more than enough hands for any task, including most anything an envoy would wish. Do you always assume the worst when you ask a neighbor for bread?"
The laughter comes again, this time even louder.
"That won't be necessary," says Kanage-yuho with a supreme air of boredom. He appears almost suddenly, not only 'scaring' the doorkeeper and the messenger, but actually scaring part of the audience as well. The god rolls his eyes, the bags that have appeared underneath them explaining his lack of courtesy. "Tell your master that I have already determined what I need to resume my work. I am departing now."
Kanage-yuho leaves for the meadow that you're in nearly the same time that Zuazulil's clambering footsteps reach the shocked duo left at the doors. He smacks the doorkeeper on the back, causing the servant to yelp and rub the spot.
"I'm done putting the perfect drink together! Bye, doorkeeper! Bye, girl I don't know!" And he too runs toward the meadow.
You already have an inkling of [[what's about to happen.->TwinsPlayConfront2]]Despite leaving second, the wild running of Zuazulil ensures that he reaches you first. Holding the horn above his head up high, it's decorated with all sorts of fruit and sloshing with a decidedly pink liquid. Even from your seat you could smell the rich drink, the stinging sensation tickling your nose at least somewhat masked by the smell of several fruits, including-
You sniff again. Dragonfruit? You laugh. There's a lot of dragonfruit in there.
Zuazulil catches you watching and beams at you with pride, but those few seconds without movement is accompanied by the sound of clattering bones as Kanage-yuho sidles up to you. The alcohol god blinks in surprise as the other ignores him and starts speaking to you.
"A thousand apologies for the immense delay. I did not intend to confine you to this grove, nor the people of this world to a moon that both is and is not over the months' absence. It is simply that the conditions set before me were endlessly perplexing, for what could a dragon want when they already command the power of a god? Were I a god of wealth or even bounty, perhaps I would have offered you some item or another that would sate regardless of greed. But as the god I am now, I can offer you but one thing: myself. Let these bands of moonsilver be proof of our union, so in some part you own myself and all that I represent."
"Hey! You can't do that!" Zuazulil snaps, angrily stomping over. "Did I hear you correctly? You're trying to marry him?"
A shuddering sigh comes from Kanage-yuho, who turns to the other god only after rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, it's you. I would say I hadn't seen you, but it's difficult to miss a half-naked drunkard gawking at me with his jaw hanging. Must I really repeat myself to such a figure?"
"When he asks for it, then yeah, duh!" He accepts the insults with open arms, making them lose all the sting and venom that was once behind them. Rapping his knuckles against his head, Zuazulil points to you. "I was here first. I may not know what your business is with him, but he's meant to be drinking with me! Whether it takes 10, 1000, or 10,000 years, I'll make him as many drinks as needed to get out of his shell and join in the reckless party! I'm not letting a humorless god take him, for... for whatever heartless reason you're doing it for!"
"To be absolutely clear, he's doing this to get the bones from my hoard." You supply breezily, much to the chagrin of Kanage-yuho. You're not playing favorites, really. Just stoking the flame between them.
Zuazulil scoffs, throwing a dismissive hand through the air. "I knew you would pull something like this eventually. Falling in love is too mushy for you. You need to benefit from it, so you jump straight into marriage!"
Practically hissing at this point through gritted teeth, Kanage-yuho snaps back. "Just because I don't fall head over heels over the slightest hint of attraction doesn't mean I don't deeply admire people who challenge me to think for once!"
"Well, that doesn't matter, 'cause I'm marrying him."
"You- what!?" Kanage-yuho sputters. "Do you even actually //like// him?"
"Contrary to what //you// might think, I don't make special drinks just for anyone. And because I fall head over heels over everyone like you say, of course I'm gonna do that with the super hot, super powerful dragon god! It was supposed to be this sweet tale of me getting closer and closer to this guy even though he's kinda scary and we fall in love over years and years and years because I'm the only one who's talking to him! And then out of the blue he tells me something like 'I liked your drinks from the very first day' and I burst out crying because that's such a sweet thing to say! And then the next time I have a party all the gods would be sooo jealous because I'd have him!"
A foul shadow casts itself over the bone god's face as a thick animal skull forms over his head. "I'd sooner find you eating chalk."
Taking a mighty swig from his horn, the divine instrument grows several times its size and into the shape of a massive club. "Not if you're eating paste first!"
[[Continue.->TwinsPlayFight]]In an instant a tower of bone erupts from the ground, propelling Kanage-yuho high into the air. Just a second off, Zuazulil's club smashes through the bone under the other's feet with a sickening //crunch.// The horn-turned-club splashes alcohol in arcs every time it moves, which turn into fields of grain as soon as they hit the receptive earth. Though his devastating blows cut through the tower's base each time, more shoot up to make up for the difference.
"At least it's not from my hoard," you muse.
Up above, Kanage-yuho mutters feverishly as two massive skeleton arms erupt from the tower. He hastily opens up his palm and blows dust off of it, the tiny particles allowing the arms motion separate of the base. They are sluggish, however, and fail to catch Zuazulil as he climbs up like an animal, all four limbs driving him upward, his club held between his teeth. Seizing every possible second, he doesn't drop his club into his hand when he reaches Kanage-yuho's level. He trusts in his teeth and goes for a wicked fast hit.
With a //crack// it hits one of the skeleton arms but bounces off, failing to shatter it. The other grabs him right out of the air and tosses him back onto the earth, where he lands with a pained grunt. Linking fingers together, the arms raise high up into the air and smash down, sending waves throughout the earth. With a scoff, Kanage-yuho raises them, only to find that Zuazulil had disappeared into the myriad fields of wheat that now covered the meadow.
Speeding like a demon, Zuazulil darts through the fields and jumps, attacking the same arm he hit earlier in the same place. More cracks shoot throughout it, but still it refuses to shatter. He tumbles straight into the fields of wheat, completely disappearing into them once more.
Rib bones erupt from the tower, which move like the claws of some insect. From the space between the ribs, the tower starts consuming itself to rain sharp fragments of bone down in massive swathes, cutting down the fields and anything standing within it.
You exempted, of course. A pulsing field of orange surrounds you and your tree, even protecting some of the flowers of the meadow. Any fragment that hits it is instantly burned so thoroughly that not even ash falls through- only smoke rises from your utter incineration.
Even as his fields are being cut down, Zuazulil speedily hits the arm once more, finally shattering it in the process. In one last act of revenge, the fragments rain down on him, scoring gashes against his body. With nowhere left to run, he does away with the fields and instead lands on the highest hill nearby. He converts the club back into his regular drinking horn, which slowly grows in size.
The flurry Kanage-yuho sends only intensifies at the easier target, but instead of evading, Zuazulil screams and charges straight through the storm. Even the remaining arm is sent at him, but before its grasp can find him again, it is completely engulfed in the drinking horn. On the verge of collapse, Zuazulil reforms his horn into a massive bone hammer. It falls on Kanage-yuho's tower with a thundering roar.
The burst of alcohol from it is enough to flood the meadow and several valleys nearby. Even your power struggles to burn through all of the liquid and bone, so you allow your flame to die down in favor of the earthen shell of a comet. You snap your fingers and similar ones fall from the heavens, creating holes which the mixture drains into. It's about the best you can do without calling down actual earth gods.
When at last the field is dry, you open up your shell and discover the two gods on their backs, both awake but capable of fighting no longer.
[[Continue.->TwinsPlayDecision]]All of a sudden, the compulsion fades. Not slightly, as it did whenever you reminded yourself that this was a play or that this took place in a theater- completely. The power and fire pumping through your veins is gone, leaving only normalcy in its wake. Though the memories of the epic battle are still fresh in your mind, there is very little evidence of it having happened, aside from the two laying before you.
Their chests heave with exertion, each breath labored and seeking only the latest gulp of air. Not a single wound covers their body, nor are they caked in chalky bone or sticky liquid- sweat excluded, of course. All you see are two actors, who have given their absolute all in a rousing performance, and who have given so much of themselves for their work that they collapsed on the stage.
And although they are dressed differently, these are very much Ypolophon and Agiomedes.
It's impossible to resist the question burning in the forefront of your mind so, leaning down and lowering your voice, you ask it. "Why'd you switch roles?"
"The world knows us as the wholes who are halves, twins who share both stage and rule." Ypolophon answers, the ghost of Zuazulil's accent tinging his words. "But... we wanted to show that we are whole even apart."
"We don't mind most people thinking of us like that, but we face the prospect of one of us finding happiness and the other falling to the wayside." Agiomedes continues, just the slightest hint of tears forming in his eyes. "The days and nights have passed by in a blur, and though we've had many of them to find peace with the separation, we remained terrified."
"So we switched roles right before the play, hoping that you'd see us not as one but as two, each a person that can stand on his own. Not just in our selfish desires to stand out to you more, but to withstand a future where you claim only one." Ypolophon hastily rubs away the tears he has, really only succeeding in making more. "And no matter what you choose--"
"We both tried our hardest," the twins say before drifting into teary silence.
You understand now- this is the only method by which the unmatched performers can be wed. The performance itself was already the wedding, should you choose to marry. And if you don't, the twins can stomach it still, as it was simply a performance and a failed proposal.
The play is not yet over, though. Nriros must make his choice, much as you need to make yours.
You're going to marry...
Ypolophon.
Agiomedes.
(link:"Both.")[(set:$twinsMarriage to true)(goto:"TwinsPlayWedding")]
Neither.You smile and shake your head. "Why would I separate the two of you when I can just have you both?"
Though the twins were crying already, they go into full-fledged bawls as the rings that were left forgotten on the floor float into the air. One ring turns red, yellow, and white with a winged design, which flies onto Ypolophon's finger. The second ring turns blue, dark green, and white with a skeletal design, which flies onto Agiomedes'. The two glow intensely, magic shooting from each to create a third ring, which combines aspects of both in red and blue, centered with a clear division of white. This flies onto your finger, and as it contracts right down to your size, you feel the warmth of the ring much like the warmth in your chest as you look at your two new husbands.
The twins leap up and bury their heads into your chest in a great big hug, and the audience erupts into a deafening cheer. Nearly all of them jump up onto their feet, yelling various supportive phrases and clapping their hands with as much force as they muster. The only ones who don't are those so struck with emotion that they cry at the sight, but even they nod at your union with approval.
Several brightly colored harlequins appear from underneath the stage with curtains in hand. With a simple '1, 2, 3' call, they jump an insane distance, to the rafters of the theaters. Once there, they pin the curtains, which have now become massive walls of red fabric. What they do afterward you can't really see, as they jump down, but soon enough you hear their voices commanding the audience row by row. They must be ushering them out.
When the din dies down and the audience have all left, the harlequins slide underneath the curtains and approach the three of you.
"News of the play spreads fast, my lords. I take it you have an announcement to make?"
The twins finally lift their heads and reply in unison. "Let the bards sing of the day Ypolophon and Agiomedes gave their hearts to King $fName and became joined in land, legends, and love."
[[Continue.->TwinsMarriageAftermath]](if:visits is 1)[The three of you are moved quickly and secretly away from the theater in one of several unmarked carriages, each of which depart to different places. Even then, screaming fans attempt to follow you on your way. The driving harlequins are no strangers to the chaotic and nonsensical roads, however, and quickly lose them with hairpin turns and almost invisible shortcuts.
Before long you emerge within walking distance of the palace, except this time from the back. The harlequins escort the three of you into the palace before taking leave. Wordlessly, you ascend the stairs and head into the twins' room- your room now too, you suppose.
You settle into bed, beckoning each twin to pick a side of you. They chide you for going to bed with your tiara on and carefully set it aside before snuggling up to you. After they've already gotten comfortable, they share a knowing look and descend upon you with a flurry of kisses, something you first laugh at the suddenness of before returning it wholeheartedly. When they settle down once more, you stroke their hair and think of what to do next.]
(else:)[Still in bed, the twins busy themselves with appreciating you and your body as you try to think of something to say.]
[["Can I ask a question?"->TwinsMarriageTalk]]
"Let's consummate this marriage."
[["Why don't we sleep for a while?"->TwinsMarriageSleep]](either:'"Ask away, dear." Ypolophon snuggles up closer to your side as Agiomedes takes the time to slide his hand down your side.','"What do you want to know?" Agiomedes says as he greedily grabs at your bicep, the much gentler Ypolophon more concerned with gentle prods at the same spot.','"What do you need from us?" The twins say in tandem, just as they deliver a kiss on your jaw. It is still hard to get used to how in sync those two can be at times.')
{(if:$astopeMTalk's 1st is 0)
[(link:'"Why me?"')[(set:$astopeMTalk's 1st to 1)(goto:"TwinsMarriageWhy")]]
(else:)[You know that they fell in love with your independence.]}
"How do you know so much about the gods?"
"Why was I compelled to act like Nriros?"
[["Nevermind."->TwinsMarriageAftermath]]
Coming off of the ravages of the play, sleep claims and cradles all three of you in a deep and long embrace. Your dreams are a lot less concrete when you have them, more vague images of reddish alcohol and blue bones mixing and twisting with much more familiar draconic iconography, not just in the visual sense but in the low, almost formless music that fills your entire dreamscape.
It is nearly midday the next day when you finally wake. Though the twins are still endlessly affectionate toward you, the mood has shifted considerably from the day that ended up being your wedding.
"You have to leave, don't you?" Agiomedes says with an air of acceptance.
You nod.
"How droll. We usually hate politics and people's self-interest, but seeing as our lands are united and we are wed, I don't hate this topic nearly as much." Ypolophon giggles. "Astope will assist to the fullest of its capabilities, should you need it."
"Make sure to visit us, okay? If not, we might go mad and break down your castle gates so we can be held once more."
"Save it for the playwriting, brother, going mad is unseemly."
The twins manage to convince you to stay just long enough to have breakfast (and plenty of kisses from both of them), but by the afternoon you are bidding farewell to them as you [[leave.->AstopePeaceEnding]]As you travel through Actapetra and even through Astope at large, you get the feeling that the twins are still looking upon you fondly from their hilltop perch, no doubt anticipating your next return even as you go farther and farther away. (if:$twinsMarriage is true)[This goes doubly so now that you're married to them. Though the performers will star in many other shows, the one they performed for you will stay in their hearts as the most cherished forever.]
You give one last look at Astope before heading through the checkpoint and (link:"back into Wevendh.")[(set:$endAstope to true)(set:$allyAstope to true)(set:$endCount to $endCount+1)(goto:"NationHub")]In the days of glory, when the wingbeats of dragons accompanied the clang of metal and the cries of war, there was nothing to be feared in the south. There were rumblings of inventors and the odd merchant proclaiming their new stop, but their hovel was hardly worth notice when there were more fertile lands to claim.
Of course, as the wheel of fortune spins, your once-dominant homeland now looks in jealousy and, although you would never admit it aloud, fear at the technological powerhouse Chromore grew into.
Lacking the dragons with which Wevendh was forged, Chromore, the land of constant technological revolution, has emerged as a dire threat, its airships rendering the natural mountain defenses of Wevendh almost obsolete. You are determined to act before any threat can materialize, and so, with a heavy heart and a sense of urgency, you embark on a journey to the heart of Chromore.
The morning sun casts its golden glow upon the capital city of Wevendh, illuminating the ancient fortifications and the sprawling mountain landscapes. Clad in light traveling gear, you descend the grand steps of the royal palace and into the sunlight, the briefest of laughs escaping you. The sun is as bright as ever, but your thoughts were consumed by the looming shadow of Chromore and the need to secure your nation's future.
As you approach the waiting carriage, drawn by a pair of sturdy steeds, you can't help but reflect on the daunting task ahead. With a solemn determination, you ascend the steps and enter the plush interior, the soft cushioning offering little comfort against the weight of responsibility on your shoulders.
Inside the carriage, you gaze out of the windows at the landscape slipping away. The towering peaks of Wevendh gradually recede into the distance, and the realization of your mission presses upon you like the weight of the mountains themselves. You know that the Ingeniator holds the key to your nation's security, and that your meeting will determine the fate of Wevendh.
As the carriage rumbles forward, the rocky terrain of Wevendh gives way to open plains.
With each passing mile, the southern border of Wevendh draws nearer, marking the beginning of a journey that holds the destiny of two nations in its balance. The rumble of the carriage wheels echoes the urgency of your mission, and your gaze remains fixed on the horizon, where the unknowns of Chromore await.
[[Continue.->ChromoreFloatingCitadel]]{(if:$endFloatingCitadel is false)[As you make your way along the less-traveled road toward Chromore, a series of emotions wash over you, heightened by the uneven terrain that jostles your carriage. Ahead, in the distant sky, the Floating Citadel dominates the horizon. Its presence is striking, and you can't help but feel a mix of awe and apprehension.<br><br>
The road beneath your carriage is markedly rougher than the well-trodden path leading to the Floating Citadel, which serves as a direct connection between Wevendh and Chromore. The constant bumps and dips seem to mirror the fluctuating currents of your own emotions as you continue your journey.<br><br>
Your heart carries a subtle nervousness as you contemplate the extended route you're taking, far beyond the reach of the Floating Citadel. Although you have been behind its imposing walls, you were relegated to the corner of the meeting room and retained very little, if anything. At that point, the most you were thinking about in your role as Exalted Prince was whether you'd be married off to a mage or not.<br><br>
However, the knowledge that the Floating Citadel is governed by a council of mages from across the world offers a measure of comfort.<br><br>
The political headache that would arise from them taking particularly aggressive actions would really only be enjoyed by the diplomats of Frateo, something that is never really advantageous to anyone aside from them. (if:$endFrateo is true)[You say this even in the position you have with them. You can't quite guarantee that you're getting a fair share when it comes to something as nebulous as diplomatic favor, after all.]
]
(elseif:$endFloatingCitadel is true)[
As you travel along the less-traveled road toward Chromore, your thoughts wander to your visit to the Floating Citadel. The memory of {
(if:$conquestFloatingCitadel is true)
[
(if:$timoSlave is true)[turning the most powerful mage in the world into a cocksleeve<br>]
]
(elseif:$allyFloatingCitadel is true)
[
(if:$timoMarriage is true)[saying your wedding vows and tying the knot with Timo<br>]
(else:)[forging a comfortable alliance with the Praecantator]} fills you with a deep sense of reassurance. The once-bumpy road seems smoother now, as the knowledge that you've already forged an advantageous connection with the now slightly less enigmatic mages provides a sense of calm and security.<br><br>
Regardless of situation, of course, Frateo would love to turn any skirmish against you into a high-profile diplomatic incident to further their own goals, (if:$endFrateo is true)[and perhaps yours given the favorable position you now hold with them, although the effects of that are difficult to quantify at best,] which would give any leader of actual thought considerable pause.
]}
Either way, the simple presence of the Floating Citadel is a formidable deterrent to any would-be conquerors looking to poach your nation while you travel to the far, far, south.
At least it wasn't the farthest tip of the peninsula that the inventors decided to settle down on, or your journey would have taken a week, perhaps two, longer. You take this time to close your eyes, preparing yourself for the foe rulers have battled since time immemorial: [[boredom.->ChromoreTravelTerritory]]For a few days, as you quite rightly predicted, a relentless sense of boredom gnaws at your very core. Finally, however, you are treated to the briefest bit of respite- the land changing.
The landscape outside, much like the rocky terrain of Wevendh, stretches into the horizon, its sparse vegetation clinging stubbornly to life amidst the harsh, unforgiving rocks. The buildings, few and far between, are huddled in sporadic clusters that seem largely unfit for human habitation.
While the outer regions of Chromore bear a superficial resemblance to your mountainous homeland, the stark differences couldn't be more pronounced. These scattered structures, with their odd configurations and haphazard appearances, feel like a far cry from the sturdy keeps and tight-knit communities of Wevendh. The rocky landscape, although reminiscent of your kingdom's terrain, largely lacks the frighteningly tall swaths of mountains that sheltered your people.
With very little else to look at, you turn your focus to one such hovel. With wooden planks that can be arranged in a way you could (very kindly) describe as inadvisable at best, a variety of strangely-shaped pieces of metal are hung on jutting nails or lying in heaps on the floor. With a helpful squint, you are able to identify that many of these metal shapes have pieces of fabric or leather wrapped around their ends.
Chromore had long since grown into the land of the megalopolis, of bustling, tightly-packed cities, so seeing the sheer absence of such is jarring. The management of the main cities of any nation is always a challenge to be sure- you have the noble families and economic advisors to thank for Draeneid's continued peace- but the seemingly complete disregard of the outer regions, even toward fortifications, didn't sit right with you.
You resolve to have your army do a survey of the outer regions of Wevendh, just in case some family or another found some alcove hidden among the peaks. It shouldn't be too difficult to establish some sort of connection, given the presence of walls at vital passages.
But all of that would have to wait. After all, you aren't here just to survey the land just past that which bordered your nation. You're headed [[deeper into Chromoric territory.->ChromoreTravelTerritory2]]The passing of days brought with them a further change of scenery; a gradual improvement in the architecture of the buildings that lined the route. While the earlier structures were practical disasters of makeshift craftsmanship and very little living functionality, these newer constructions are making strides towards becoming actual dwellings with nascent design flourishes.
The structures, though not yet polished or refined, exhibit hints of architectural elements you had yet to observe. Rough-hewn wooden beams mingled with metal are now arranged with more care, forming the skeletal framework of these evolving dwellings. Crude attempts at decorative gear motifs could be seen etched into the facades, showcasing a burgeoning sense of architectural imitation.
Despite the occasional misaligned bricks and crooked rooflines, these buildings are gradually moving away from the stark simplicity of the outer regions. Windows, though small and irregular, allow a bit more natural light to filter in, probably in some effort to alleviate gloom on the inside. It's evident that the inhabitants are making earnest efforts to create homes of form on top of function.
While transitional architecture could be found in any nation, including your own, very few are quite so evident as Chromore, in large part due to its sheer length. Unlike places such as Seridazar which evolved architecture out of necessity and thus has common elements all throughout, Chromore congregated around roads due to the abundance of merchants.
Rather than actually evolving out of some sense of tradition, the structures here were much more likely informed by what was made in the much bigger cities such as the capital. While there was certainly an architectural legacy started and continued from the capital and the nascent cities surrounding it, there was no such unifying factor for towns like these that sprang up much later. It's evident from the outer regions that buildings were made entirely for function, and only later added on to in order to serve some other function. For both merchants and inventors alike, there's an advantage to be had in making the workplace look Chromoric when visitors intend to buy Chromoric products.
It's this section that serves as a bridge between the rudimentory abodes of the outskirts and the more refined designs that doubtlessly await deeper within the nation.
[[Continue.->ChromoreTravelTerritory3]]Like clockwork you ride, rest, restock, and then continue on your way, leaving cycles of the moon and stars and swathes of land in your wake. Of course, Chromore has kept up in turn, with remarkable transformation unfolding outside your window as you enter a proper city. The once scattered and seemingly makeshift structures begin to take on a newfound identity, a fusion of architectural elements drawn from rich traditions.
One of the first buildings that catches your attention is a grandiose building of intricate woodwork. The structure starts as nothing more than a square, but that square is then capped by a roof that flares out with curved eaves and vibrant copper tiles. Remarkably, many such squares and roofs were stacked on top of each other, ending in a pointed spire, creating a tower that reached for the sky. (if:$endDusetmene is true)[The concept wasn't dissimilar to that of Dusetmene, except the modular buildings were stacked directly on top of each other rather than in more horizontal, shaped formations.]
Intricately carved wooden panels and lattice windows provide a delicate balance to the building's soaring height, and are themselves framed by gears and pipes of all shapes and sizes, blending finesse with meticulous design. It stands as a testament to a people so fascinated by the sky that even their buildings had to pierce it.
Much further along but within the same city, you come across a sprawling complex reminiscent of a fortress. Its imposing stone walls, adorned with ornate turrets, battlements, and machines you couldn't fathom the purpose of, exudes strength fortitude and perhaps faded glory. The fortress-like structure, with its sturdy stone archways and colossal wooden doors, speaks to a very practical resilience.
Using the stretching of your legs as an excuse, you depart from your carriage and venture closer. Sneaking quickly through an open gap in one of those doors, you discovere inner courtyards and gardens adorned with sculpted passageways through squares of green and serene bridges over a gently flowing natural river. It's an interesting attempt to retain nature and what you assume to be a historical structure in a nation that values technological advancement over both.
You return to your carriage before the building's caretakers notice your presence.
Shortly afterward, you encounter a series of vibrant marketplaces, bustling with life and energy. The market stalls, crafted from dark timber, copper plating, and bundles of thick wire, are filled to the brim with all sorts of mechanical odds and ends. Above them, colorful banners and vibrant street lanterns that adorned the market sway in the wind.
Although Arcgarde and its Ingeniator still awaited, you could take a little detour and explore this smaller city- Baobeuge, if you're reading the sign correctly.
You...
go back to the tower.
visit the fortress again.
explore the market.
[[just head for Arcgarde.->ChromoreCapitalEnter]]As the journey through Chromore draws to its zenith, the capital city of Arcgarde appears on the horizon like a vision from another world. Nestled along the pristine coastline, Arcgarde stands as the pinnacle of innovation amid gears.
The first glimpse of Arcgarde reveals a skyline that stretches towards the azure sea, a cluster of incredibly tall buildings constructed from a fusion of materials that defies traditional conventions. These towers-among-towers have surfaces adorned with intricate gearwork and interconnecting pipes. Streams of mana-fueled energy course through the cityscape, manifesting as vibrant arcs of electricity that dance within transparent conduits.
Even from this distance, you could see certain places where the buildings seemed as if they were forcefully moved apart to make space.
The city's open spaces are scarce but commanding, dominated by colossal converters that bear a semblance to gas lanterns, though vastly larger in scale. Inside these massive structures lay enchanting mana cubes, pulsating with magical energy, their luminous glow casting an ethereal hue upon the surroundings. Each of these cubes serve as vital wellsprings of power, as the source of the electricity that breathes life into Arcgarde. You are fortunate enough to see one just coming to life, marvelling at the bright blue glow it makes as the newly-renewed converter extracts brilliant bolts of electricity that ricochet inside it.
But perhaps what is most impressive isn't tethered to the ground at all. Looking toward the sky, you behold the impressive airships of Chromore. Their massive, armored balloons suspend the ships in the air, a regular spectacle of the city's skyline. These flying marvels, resembling the hulls of regular ships from below, glide gracefully through the open expanse, docking at towering mooring stations that punctuate the cityscape.
As your carriage draws nearer to the city's entrance, the bustling streets begin to materialize, teeming with the signs of Chromoric life. Merchants peddle electrical wares, pedestrians navigate the labyrinthine pathways, and the constant hum of industry fills the air. In the distance, a series of massive bridges span across the cityscape, connecting the towering structures and serving as elevated highways for man and vehicle alike.
The transition from the rural tranquility of Wevendh to the bustling metropolis of Chromore is both breathtaking and disorienting. While Wevendh isn't known for its magic, it has certainly dabbled in it before. One does not train drakes without some form of magic or another.
However, this is on a completely new level.
Innovation had thrived beside the boundless sea, and cutting-edge technology had itself become a form of magic unfamiliar to you. You had visited years ago, yes, but the differences had already become staggering. Your have no idea how your parents or your brother managed to deal with such a burgeoning threat, but you'll have to figure it out quickly.
If not Chromore as a whole, then the Ingeniator himself.
[[Continue.->ChromoreCapitalEnter2]]You descend from the carriage, stepping onto the bustling streets of Arcgarde. The city's frenetic energy is palpable, and the hurried pedestrians around you don't seem inclined to stop and answer questions. Faced with this rapid pace, you decide to simply choose a street and follow it.
As you meander along, you pass by numerous shops, each displaying clockwork wares that beckon with noise and intriguing designs. Some of these shops feature facades reminiscent of the finely crafted architecture you've seen before, their intricate wooden details and sturdy structures reminiscent of craftsmanship honed through generations, albeit cramped in this highly-condensed city.
However, you refrain from approaching the shopkeepers just yet, as your attention is drawn to the far end of the road. There, you notice people rushing about an expanse.
Underneath curved roofs and in between grand archways, you can see tracks of gleaming metal, and your memory helpfully supplies what it is; a train station. They house grand tubes of metal which run along the tracks at great speeds, and many could be found here in Chromore. However, due to extensive design and fabrication laws, as well as the nearly impossible task of running tracks through the extreme variety of landscapes, they aren't present in most other nations. Seridazar and Wevendh are largely to blame for this, since running tracks through sand infested with worms and up mountains taller than any spire is a fool's task.
One of these so-called trains pulls into the station, and you notice that it itself bears the hallmarks of the architectural blend. Its ornate exterior boasts intricate patterns etched into gleaming metal. The walls that make up the station surrounding it feature massive gears and mechanisms intertwined with depictions of flowers carved completely out of metal.
With a train having just arrived, you realize that exploring the station might be an interesting way to navigate the city or gather information in this bustling megalopolis.
You...
(link:"speak to one of the shopkeepers.")[(set:$routeChro to 1)(goto:"ChromoreCapitalShops1")]
(link:"catch the train.")[(set:$routeChro to 2)(goto:"ChromoreTrain")]You decide to stop at one of the nearby shops, where a curious collection of figurines immediately captures your attention. At first glance, they appear to be intricately crafted dolls resembling both humans and various animals. However, as you observe them more closely, you're pleasantly surprised to discover the subtle and mesmerizing mechanical workings beneath their delicate exteriors.
Approaching the shopkeeper, a friendly, middle-aged man with a twinkle in his eye, you express your admiration for the remarkable figurines and their mechanical charm. He nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "Ah, they're quite popular, aren't they?" he replies. "Each one is a tiny masterpiece of clockwork ingenuity."
The shopkeeper gestures to a small selection of three figurines displayed prominently on the counter. "Here, my friend, let me show you some of our best pieces."
The first figurine depicts a graceful swan, its wings unfurling and retracting with a gentle, almost ethereal movement. It glides along a mirrored surface, creating the illusion of gliding on a serene pond.
The second figurine captures the playful antics of a squirrel, its tiny paws reaching up as if to grasp an invisible nut. Its bushy tail twitches realistically, and it appears to dart forward and back, mirroring the squirrel's energetic nature.
The third figurine represents a couple engaged in a romantic waltz. Their intricate clockwork mechanisms allow them to twirl gracefully, their movements exuding an air of enchanting elegance. The miniature dance floor beneath them turns, adding to the enchantment of the scene.
As you ponder which of these marvelous creations to choose, your gaze drifts to a corner of the shop. There, you spot a captivating headdress that resembles a miniature crown, not very wide but tall, adorned with frilled pieces of delicate white cloth hanging down from its top. Its ornate details suggest that it holds a special significance. You find yourself drawn to it, its elegance and craftsmanship captivating your senses.
While you can certainly afford to buy more than one, carrying around more than one would be too cumbersome. You'd also like to catch the train, so you don't have all day to carry the items back to your carriage.
You decide to...
(link:"buy the swan.")[(set:$chromoreItem to 1)(goto:"ChromoreTrain")]
(link:"buy the squirrel.")[(set:$chromoreItem to 2)(goto:"ChromoreTrain")]
(link:"buy the waltz.")[(set:$chromoreItem to 3)(goto:"ChromoreTrain")]
(link:"buy the headdress.")[(set:$chromoreItem to 4)(goto:"ChromoreTrain")]
(link:"just leave and catch the train.")[(set:$chromoreItem to 5)(goto:"ChromoreTrain")]{(if:$chromoreItem is 0)[Leaving behind the wares and the shopkeepers behind without a second glance, you make your way straight for the station. The impressive station, a blend of intricate clockwork designs and fairytale-like elements, sprawls before you. You marvel at the vast railway tracks, where the enormous locomotive you caught sight of earlier exhales steam, preparing for its next journey. The platform is alive with the hurried footsteps of travelers, all eager to board the train bound for destinations.]
(elseif:$chromoreItem is 5)
[While the figurines are very much tempting purchases, you find yourself questioning the wisdom of carrying such a thing about. You could always go back to your carriage, but you risk the train departing and having to wait an indeterminate amount of time for the next.<br><br>"Maybe next time," you say as you spin on your heel and make your way toward the yard.<br><br> As you arrive at the bustling train station, you take in the architectural marvel that surrounds you – a blend of intricate clockwork designs and fairytale-like elements. The platform buzzes with the energy of travelers preparing to depart on their journeys, their bags neatly arranged, and excitement in the air. You watch with curiosity and a little relief that you don't have to worry about a parcel in your hands as you think of your next moves.]
(else:)
[The shopkeeper takes your chosen item and puts it underneath a machine with many needle-pointed arms, which proceeds to wrap it up in a small parcel for you to carry. You instinctively reach out for it, but the shopkeeper produces a small satchel from underneath the shop counter and places it within.<br><br>"An extra gift," the shopkeeper says as he gets your money in return.<br><br>With a new satchel on your person, you turn away and start walking. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on the railway tracks resonates through the air as you approach the grand station, a fusion of stunning mechanical embellishments and fairytale-like architectural elements. A sense of anticipation fills the platform, where travelers from various corners of Chromore gather to embark on their journeys. You ensure that the parcel is snug in its satchel before looking around, ready to continue.]}
You quickly notice the peculiar presence of blocky, square-shaped machines that seem almost comically uniformed. They wear caps, carry batons in their mechanical hands, and sport mustache-like adornments on their otherwise faceless frames. It's a strange sight, as these machines lack any discernible facial features, yet they move with precision and purpose.
Resembling life-sized chess pieces, they navigate the bustling station with remarkable efficiency. They move in perfect 90-degree angles, effortlessly gliding away from people and obstacles, like clockwork. These are the acclaimed automated enforcers of Chromore, the number of which is understandably the greatest in the capital city. You caught glimpses of them in the biggest cities you passed through, but never up close or in squads like these.
From some undetermined source on each of the enforcers, a voice, unmistakably belonging to an old man, resonates through the air. However, the voice has been altered in a peculiar way, distorted and compressed, making it sound strangely mechanical. The words are clear but carry a distinct artificial undertone.
You can't help but wonder whether this voice is entirely synthetic, as the way it is produced is unlike any you've heard. If so, you doubt that the voices are produced in real time. Mages are fond of writing letters which speak themselves, so perhaps this is an example of that.
They deliver instructions with authority, and you make sure to give them a wide berth as they do so. Part of the point of arriving in such a fashion was surprise, and you aren't willing to rule out the enforcers sharing their sight with people who could inform the Ingeniator of your presence.
You spot a mechanical veranda carved from robust stone columns with intricately carved floral motifs. Delicate arches, both rounded and pointed, grace the structure. Sturdy buttresses provide additional support to the veranda's structure as it extends further, concealing you from the sun's rays as well as the attention of the patrolling squadron.
It's only when the door of the train opens with a loud //hiss// that you [[emerge.->ChromoreTrain2]] You step onto the train with a sigh of relief, pleasantly surprised by the plush and well-spaced seating arrangement. It's far from the crowded, cramped streets you're just escaped from, and maybe even a little more spacious than the station itself. Selecting a random seat, you sink into the comfortable cushions and turn your attention to the window.
As the train glides smoothly along the tracks, the grand cityscape of Arcgarde unfolds before you. You admire the grandeur of the buildings—some adorned with intricate spires and ornate facades, while others are collections of multi-tiered roofs from which hang large electrical lanterns. The streets below are awash with the busy, with people moving so quickly in crowds so dense that they'd trample one another if any of them stopped for too long.
Suddenly, the intercom system crackles to life, and a deep, synthesized voice, this time of a woman, fills the car, announcing the upcoming stops. First on the list is Feiloft, the primary production and docking center for the city's airships. You remember spotting many colossal airships moored to one dock in particular, shaped like a massive lotus leaf. Its underside had 'veins' of massive transparent pipework, so when glowing liquid of many colors sloshed through to various parts of the structure, people watched.
The voice continues, announcing Schanschirr, the factory responsible for crafting the mana-electric converters that power the city. Having no reference point for this one, as you've never been to it nor have you even seen it during your approach, you only have conjecture to form an image. Surely it has to be a complex of towering smokestacks, surrounded by complex networks of pipes and gears. It is, after all, an integral part of Chromore's daily existence.
Lastly, the train is bound for Korycai, a building dedicated to the works of the Ingeniator. You smile softly as they leave out the fact that it is also the inventor's private living quarters. While the lower floors were exactly as described, more or less a museum touting the various inventions of Chromore's leader, stairways forbidden to any normal guests led straight to the meeting room of the three leaders. Further still were the the Ingeniator's quarters, but even more importantly, the private workshop where he churns out inventions unfathomable even to his colleagies.
As the train continues toward its first stop, your thoughts drift to your past interactions with the genius behind Chromore's advancements, wondering about the person so purposely wrapped in enigma. Should you really visit him so directly?
You stop at...
(link:"Feiloft.")[(set:$trainFeiloft to true)(goto:"ChromoreFeiloft")]
(link:"Schanschirr.")[(set:$trainSchanshirr to true)(goto:"ChromoreSchanschirr")]
(link:"Korycai.")[(set:$trainKorycai to true)(goto:"ChromoreKorycai")]You decide to disembark at the first stop, Feiloft, where you find yourself at the base of a colossal tower. Your gaze is immediately drawn upward to the towering lotus leaf-shaped dock, high above your head. Determination wells up within you as you resolve to do something about the airships moored to it.
Stepping inside the tower, you're greeted by a lavish reception area that exudes opulence. The room gleams with metallic surfaces and crystal chandeliers, and a magnificent painting of an airship graces one wall.
An androgynous individual approaches you, their features a harmonious blend of masculinity and femininity. They wear finely tailored robes, white and blue. The robes are predominantly white, and gleaming at that- they are like canvases, upon which blue accents and floral designs were imprinted, like paint. They offer you a polite smile.
"Welcome to Feiloft Inc.," they say in a refined tone. "How may we assist you today? Do you have any specific business or inquiries?"
When you don't answer immediately, they smile and look you up and down blatantly.
"Normally we wouldn't entertain anyone of your dress," they say, clearly indicative of the rugged traveling garb you have on, "but I can tell a man of fine upbringing when I see one. You're not just here for the group tour, clearly, so what are you really here for?"
You consider your words carefully, aware that you have a mission to accomplish in this impressive place.
(link:'"I am an engineering student trying to learn from the best."')[(set:$feiloftCondition to 1)(goto:"ChromoreFeiloftStudent")]
(link:'"I am a businessman looking to purchase an airship."')[(set:$feiloftCondition to 2)(goto:"ChromoreFeiloftBusiness")]
[[Present your royal insignia.->ChromoreFeiloftRoyal]]A meeting is inevitable; why not take the element of surprise directly to it?
You exit at the farthest stop, in front of the building that the Ingeniator calls home. As you enter the grand building, stepping over blue and yellow carpet lining the floor of hallways lit by buzzing electrical lights, you are greeted by an array of impressive exhibits showcasing the Ingeniator's creations.
Many of these stir memories of your previous visits.
The centerpiece on display is the original proper airship, suspended gracefully from the high ceiling. Despite its age, the airship is remarkably well-preserved, the symbol of technological heritage meticulously cared for and revered. The vessel's sleek, cherry wood exterior gleams with a lustrous polish, and its strange-looking mana-electricity converters, though inactive, seem like they could fire back up at any moment. This is the invention that created Chromore.
Adjacent to the airship exhibit is a peculiar hourglass-shaped mana-electricity converter, the same type as the ones present on the deck of the original airship. The shoddy materials and questionable craftsmanship makes its design seems more experimental than practical. And that makes sense, considering that this was, quite literally, the experiment- the first mana-electricity converter.
The gallery extends further, with more exhibits showcasing the Ingeniator's creations. It is here that your memories, although foggy, are clear enough to inform you that you definitely haven't seen these before. Whether you simply never explored the gallery enough or if they were simply added after your visit, you can't quite say.
Among them, one stands out- an intricate machine closely resembling a human. Your eyes widen. In its chest, where a heart would be on a normal human, is a gaping hole. You can see the incredibly intricate lines of piping and gears that lay within it, of course, but it's actually what's not there that makes it stand out. That's where a magical core would be placed, and as soon one is, the machine would become an Automaton.
The Ingeniator was hardly the first person to create an automaton, but to see him boldly display this despite the tense relationship between Chromore and the Floating Citadel is surprising. This must be his very own model, fated never to be complete- never to be alive. You take some time to digest the thought before moving on.
Another display presents a vast assortment of timepieces in all shapes and sizes. Given the presence of gears in most of Chromore, you would have been more surprised if the Ingeniator //hadn't// been an expert in horology. The sheer amount remains impressive, though, especially when a lot of them are shaped in such odd ways that you're left wondering how gears can even move in them, let alone tell th etime accurately.
The final exhibit showcases an array of automated guards. Although they are deactivated at the moment, your thoughts immediately go back to the ones barking orders back at the train station.
Now that you're not at risk of being ordered to move or beaten by batons, you inspect them further. It doesn't take much circling for you to see one whose uniform has moved just slightly enough for you to see a hole in its neck with four bars running across it. They were so loud earlier you couldn't quite pinpoint where the voices originated from, but now that you're looking at it, you're sure this is it.
With the exhibit fully explored, there is nothing left to do but follow your memories to an inconspicuous doorway. As soon as you approach it, electricity crackles to life and shoots across holes running along the length of the doorframe. It didn't do that the last time you were here.
[[Continue.->ChromoreKorycai2]]You decide to adopt the guise of an eager engineering student, claiming that you're here to learn from the best, not only in the ways of airship building, but engineering as a whole.
The androgynous receptionist nods understandingly, seemingly unsurprised. "We anticipated your arrival, although your parents seem to have forgotten to send a formal notification," they remark, a hint of nonchalance in their tone. "We've seen our fair share of youth like you stepping into their parents' airship businesses. It's more of a headache if we contact your parents now, so just ask them to write a letter next time and bring it with you."
Your journey through the tower takes you to the higher floors, where you immerse yourself in a world of aeronautical marvels. You learn about the intricacies of airship design, propulsion, and even the part that revolutionary mana-electric converters play in providing power to the various propellors that steer the airship. Your tutor, a watchful and knowledgeable engineer with nearly as many years of engineering under his belt as years in his body, accompanies you throughout the process.
He's a little bit too watchful, though.
Your every move is scrutinized by your vigilant tutor, who ensures that you remain focused solely on your educational journey and, more specifically, only the parts he wants you to be taught. Any hopes of sneaking off and doing something of actual substance with the airships is dashed with the tight leash you're held on, and before you know it, you've reached the end.
You are more knowledgeable for sure, but the airships remain unaffected, and there is no chance of returning to do more. With nothing else to do, you [[return to the train.->ChromoreTrain3]](either:"Returning to the train, you find your seat among the intricate, clockwork-inspired interior. As the train departs, you peer through the window, and the bustling streets of Arcgarde greet you once more. Electrical signs illuminate its towers, and intricate devices whir and clank below. The rumble of the train accompanies your thoughts of where you've been and where you need to go next.", "Back on the train, you settle into a plush seat amidst the gear-inspired decor. The train carriages are adorned with brass accents and ornate lighting fixtures buzzing with electricity. Through the window, you catch glimpses of Arcgarde's mesmerizing streetscape. Above the chaos of pedestrian streets, carriages much like yours traverse bridges, probably responsible for delivering goods vital to the people's survival. You ponder that, as well as where you've been and where you can go next.", "Stepping onto the train, you're enveloped by its lavish interior adorned with metallic floral details and polished wood paneling. The train glides smoothly along the tracks, carrying you through Arcgarde's densely urban landscape. Outside, the city's clockwork marvels are on full display. You think of where you've been and where you might go next.", "As you return to the train, you're greeted by its elegant interior. The train's departure from Feiloft propels you back into the heart of Arcgarde, which hums with the whir and click of industry. Gigantic clockwork gears turn gracefully alongside the city's many mana-electricity converters. Like the turning of the gears, your mind turns to where you've been and where you need to go next.", "Back inside the train, you admire the meticulously crafted interior adorned with intricate metalwork. The train swiftly carries you through the compact streets of Arcgarde, where towering structures and winding gears dominate the skyline. The city's mechanical symphony unfolds outside your window, with some of the mustached automatons you saw before moving down the streets with precision. Their sight makes you ponder where you've been and where you might go next.")
(if:$trainFeiloft is false)[(link:"Feiloft.")[(set:$trainFeiloft to true)(goto:"ChromoreFeiloft")]](else:)[You've already been to Feiloft.]
(if:$trainSchanschirr is false)[(link:"Schanschirr.")[(set:$trainSchanschirr to true)(goto:"ChromoreSchanschirr")]](else:)[You've already visited Schanschirr.]
[[Korycai.->ChromoreKorycai]]
Upon presenting the royal insignia of Wevendh, the receptionist's eyes widen in astonishment. With a deep bow, they apologize profusely for any previous misunderstandings and rush to accompany you on an exclusive tour of Feiloft's renowned airship factory. As you explore the vast facility, you observe an array of airships in various stages of construction, each showcasing Chromore's innovative engineering prowess.
One airship, in particular, captures your attention. Or, rather, it would be more accurate to call it a flying basket. Made of cherry wood and circularly shaped, the carriage is scarcely big enough for three people to stand in. Glass panes rise from the edge, at least preventing its passengers from toppling over. The balloon attached above the panes is also quite small, but surprisingly houses an incredibly complex mechanism within. Judging from the size, it's probably meant to hold a mana cube.
Moving deeper into the factory, you witness a bay filled to the brim with mana-electricity converters and mana cubes alike, and you think of the ungodly cost all of this must have. There's a reason why Chromore isn't the richest nation even with all of its inventions. After all, mana cubes are only seriously produced by the Floating Citadel, and the nations aren't at the best terms even though there are no concrete political interactions between them. The rate at which the city and its airships consume mana cubes must make a sizable dent in Chromore's economic power.
As you progress through the factory, you encounter teams of workers laboring on the balloons that help lift these airships. Large looms continuously weave fibers together, fed by massive spools. The textile is further treated in mixes that you aren't privy to due to them being trade secrets. The real treat is the attachment of the mechanism. It's much like the one you saw in the basket earlier, but heavily compacted and lined directly inside of the balloon. Instead of creating electricity, the harnessed mana cubes create wind which steadily propels the balloon up.
The tour culminates as you witness the intricate integration of control rooms within the airships. A network of brass pipes, gleaming levers, and brass-rimmed portholes comprise the nerve center. Ingenious engineers fine-tune the instrumentation, ensuring precise control of the vessel's navigation, propulsion, and weaponry.
As you conclude your tour, you're left awestruck by the masterful craftsmanship displayed throughout the factory. On the one hand, they would never compare to the dragons of your homeland, wise and powerful beasts who could work independently of their partners. However, with their absence, you have to admit that Wevendh is lagging. A fleet of airships //working in tandem// with dragons would be a dream.
Either way, it's evident why Chromore stands at the forefront of aerial technology.
The receptionist brings you back down to the lobby, but as you prepare to step forward, you find yourself face-to-mask with the enigmatic Ingeniator, Fenborz Hsuefte. It take some time for your eyes to be drawn away from the much more apparent gear and cog imagery of his mask to two of the four holes in it, through which you can see the bright green eyes of the man you've come to speak with.
You can hear subtle clicking from somewhere on his person before he speaks, and when he does, it comes in a deep and wise voice. "When Emilniu told me that the King of Wevendh came to see our airships, I could scarcely believe it. I had to rush over to see with my own eyes. Yes, I had not expected..."
He stares for an almost uncomfortable amount of time, slowly hunching over under the cloak which swaddles his entire person. The patterns of .yellow like lightning further distort his form, making his hunched over form reminiscent of a mass of slime.
"You can't be staying in those dreadfully cramped spaces. Come, I will show you to the royal guest quarters. I insist."
Caught completely off-guard, you have no choice but to [[follow.->FenborzTrain]]The androgynous receptionist's eyes narrow slightly as you state your intent, looking both intrigued and skeptical. They lean slightly forward, their voice tinged with suspicion as they respond, "A purchase of such magnitude should have been arranged well in advance. We typically expect notifications and formal inquiries from potential buyers. Why have we received no word until now?"
You adopt a confident air and offer a knowing smile, replying that you represent an organization of immense wealth. They value discretion above all else, especially when conducting business transactions. Secrecy is of utmost importance to your clients, and they'd rather the world not know the extent of their endeavors.
The receptionist lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes their head, muttering under their breath, "Typical Svantteri practices, always shrouded in secrecy." Louder, they speak to you again, "Very well, I understand. Follow me, and you'll be shown to the dock where our finest airships are moored. But I must insist on maintaining our usual protocols."
With that, the receptionist leads you through a series of ornate corridors within the tower, adorned with richly detailed mechanical decorations. The steady hum of machinery fills the air as you ascend, and you catch glimpses of other people rushing about to perform their duties as part of a meticulously organized hub of airship commerce.
As you reach the upper levels, you finally step out onto the lotus leaf-shaped dock, suspended high above the city. The view is breathtaking, with a panorama of Arcgarde's skyline sprawling before you. Rows of airships, their sleek metal frames adorned with intricate patterns, are moored to the dock. The receptionist gestures toward the selection, saying, "Here are the airships available for purchase. Please take your time to inspect them. If you have any questions or require assistance, don't hesitate to ask. We aim to ensure our customers are satisfied, regardless of their... unique circumstances."
You nod, the vast array of airships stretching out before you. It's a testament to Chromore's ingenuity and mechanical prowess, and you can't help but be awed by the sight. As you step closer to the airships, your thoughts race about which one might best serve your clandestine purposes.
A part of you is tempted to find a way to bring one of these airships back to Wevendh, but attempting to do so under the guise of a businessman without having met the Ingeniator and, most likely, simply trying to fly back to your borders would cause an unimaginable political scandal.
Realistically, you only have the time to do whatever you want to one of these ships. Your guise as a businessman already here to make a purchase only makes sense if you have eyes on one vessel. The question is, which one?
[[The oldest model on display.->FeiloftOld]]
[[A prototype in the middle of being built.->FeiloftNew]]
(link:"The biggest and most complete ship there.")[(set:$indomitableSeen to true)(goto:"FeiloftIndomitable")]As the train slows to a halt at Schanschirr, you brace yourself to see a highly compartmentalized block of buildings taking up a vast amount of land where machines and humans alike skitter to and fro at a hectic pace. However, your expectations are immediately defied as you step onto the platform.
Schanschirr, the renowned factory of Chromore's mana-electricity converters, is shockingly small in scale compared to what you envisioned. Instead of a sprawling industrial complex, you find yourself in front of a modest single-story building with a quaint exterior. The brick walls, adorned with large windows, exude an aura of simplicity, belying the critical role this place plays in powering the city.
A sense of doubt creeps in as you wonder if you've arrived at the right location. You approach a nearby sign. Clear as day, the sign confirms your location – this is indeed Schanschirr. The disconnect between expectation and reality still hangs heavily in your thoughts.
With a deep breath, you proceed inside the unassuming building. The interior offers little solace to your initial disappointment. The factory floor is compact, with only a handful of workstations neatly arranged in rows. The machinery, though meticulously maintained, appears relatively rudimentary compared to the grandiose sights in your mind.
As you take in the surroundings, a clean-shaven, bespectacled man approaches. His balding head and kindly demeanor makes him resemble a grandfather more than a foreman.
"Why, it's been quite a while since we've had a visitor. Tell me, my boy, what are you here for?"
His polite curiosity leaves you with a choice – to reveal your purpose or to maintain a shroud of mystery, potentially uncovering hidden truths about the factory.
[["Can I take a tour of the factory?"->SchanschirrTour]]
[['"I would like to purchase one of your converters."'->SchanschirrBusiness]]
[[Present your royal insignia.->SchanschirrRoyal]]You express interest in the oldest airship moored to the dock, much to the receptionist's surprise. They nod and grant you permission, reminding you that you may take your time inspecting it.
Stepping onto the airship, you're immediately struck by its antiquated appearance. The interior is a stark contrast to the sleek and modern designs of the other vessels. Weathered wooden panels line the walls, while aged leather seats show signs of wear, not only from use, but of the natural passage of time itself. You hardly know anything about airships, and yet even you can tell that this vessel, while doubtlessly impressive for its time, would never fly today.
If it had stayed this quality, you'd have nothing to fear. Of course, innovation isn't nearly that merciful.
As you explore further, you come across an exposed control panel. It's incredibly bulky and takes up an entire wall's span, and you reckon that this is one such feature that was heavily modified for its modern successors. Regardless, this panel provides an opportunity for you to look into the mechanics of the airship.
Studying the panel, you realize that you could tamper with the vessel's systems. You're no engineer by any means, but there are very simple things you can do. It doesn't take a genius to rip out wires and cause the vessel to fail to start. Neither is it particularly difficult to remove just a few of the wires and cause the engine to gradually lose power in flight. It does take some thought, but connecting a bunch of wires to a hole with a sign warning of explosions is within your capability as well.
You could always leave, but there are easier ways of looking at airships without sneaking in.
You make the ship...
(link:"fail to start entirely.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
(link:"lose power gradually.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
(link:"explode after some time.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
[[a memory, and leave.->FeiloftLeave]]You inform the receptionist that you'd like to take a look at the newest prototype airship. From its half-completed hull you can see people with masks using all manner of tools to meld the metal together.
The receptionist hesitates, explaining that this particular model isn't available for sale yet, as it's still in development. But your persuasive skills come into play as you emphasize your potential interest in purchasing it as soon as it's completed. After some consideration, the receptionist finally agrees, allowing you access to the prototype.
As you step onto the airship, you're immediately struck by the sleek design and advanced technology on display. Workers are immediately surprised by your presence, but after the receptionist waves them off, they simply walk and work around you. Shortly, they're so focused on their tasks that you see an opportunity.
The feeling of security must have gotten to the engineers as they gladly leave tools off to the side. The interior of the airship is far too advanced for you to sabotage directly, but technology has not come so far that you don't understand how to mess with tools.
It's as simple as pretending to admire the craftsmanship, then bending the head of the tool just slightly so things don't come out quite as perfectly. The airship would come out on time, but these slight deviations compounded might make a specifically-designed model like this fail to start. Alternatively, you can tamper with a set of intricate gears. These seem like they run directly to the converters, so replacing a bottle of lubricant with a bottle of water from a different part of the ship could cause gradual power failure. Although a drastic measure, you could disconnect one of the wires hanging off of the tools surrounding one of the mana-electricity converters, which may very well result in an explosion.
You move the tool that...
(link:"would make the engine fail to start.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
(link:"would cause gradual power failure.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
(link:"might cause an explosion.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
[[is blocking your way so you can leave.->FeiloftLeave]]You express your interest in seeing the grandest and most complete airship within the dock, taking up a ridiculous amount of space in the dead center of the dock.
The receptionist looks to see if you're actually serious before shaking their head apologetically. "The Indomitable is by far the grandest airship in all of Chromore and the only one of its kind in existence, and I understand why your hires would desire it. However, I regret to inform you that it is the work and personal property of the Ingeniator himself. You may watch from the edge of the perimeter, but do not move past the guards."
Around the daunting ship with its massive hull and array of cannons, as the receptionist correctly stated, there is a contingency of guards in a perfect circle. They are almost identical to the ones you saw in the train station, only this time their batons crackle with electricity and, for some reason, far bigger mustaches.
They're ample reason to turn away, but the knowledge that that's the Ingeniator's own ship is far too tempting to pass up. You really take a moment to consider your options, snapping your fingers when an idea comes to you.
You mention that you have been sent on behalf of a royal family. It's not entirely untrue, considering your actions are in pursuit of your own kingdom's interests. You keep making vague assertions, ones that could only come from someone in a position to speak with royalty, but not ones that could be traced to just one nation. You even make mention that your fictional overseer would have made a personal visit had they not overcommitted themselves to one gathering or another.
Upon hearing that, the receptionist sighs and pinches the bridge of their nose. "Trust me, this isn't the first time the Handelpias has done that. It'll be months before he actually does anything, if he doesn't forget about it first. He said he would oversee the merger, but-"
They devolve into angry grumbles as they move forward, waving you to follow. Pulling a device seemingly right out of their sleeves, the receptionist taps it rapidly. As you approach, the guards' voices boom out. "Temporary guest recognized. Enjoy your visit."
You cross the perimeter slowly, caution in your movements due to latent fear of the guards.
[[The insides of The Indomitable await.->FeiloftIndomitable2]]Satisfied, you step out of the airship, already thinking of ways to get out of the transaction.
The receptionist awaits your return. "What is the organization's decision, then?"
You inform them that you're going through with it.
The receptionist nods approvingly, leading you back down to the lobby where matters of payment are typically settled. You remain absolutely cordial until the subject of funds is broached, at which point you employ a touch of cunning. Of course, you don't actually have any large sum of money on your person, and using Wevendh currency in the first place would be a dead giveaway. Instead, you say you will write a letter of payment.
As you sit down to write the letter, you craft it in a script and language of Brumarnas, far, far to the east. In your youth, your father taught you and your brother basic phrases in the language. What you're writing here is clearly nonsensical, as it's just a string of disconnected phrases, but you know it won't be deciphered until much later. Additionally, the organization you claim to represent just doesn't exist, although you remember to make mention of the Svantteri's to throw the receptionist off further.
Handing over the letter to the receptionist, you watch as they inspect it with a puzzled expression. You smile and tell them that it's for further security reasons.
You exit knowing that you've bought valuable time for yourself, and (if:$feiloftSabotage is true)[left a sabotaged vessel in your wake](else:)[learned something about the airship industry] before your meeting with the Ingeniator.
You make your way to [[the train->ChromoreTrain3]] waiting outside.You gaze up at The Indomitable, the colossal personal airship of the Ingeniator Fenborz Hsuefte. Its hull is a formidable sight, armored with a mysterious material that appears black at first glance. However, when the sunlight dances upon it, the armor reveals a stunning rainbow hue that shimmers across the surface. Between the armored plates, the ship's structure is constructed from a rich, dark cherry wood, lending an air of luxury to its exterior.
Looking further up at the massive balloon, you realize the secret behind the ship's propulsion, and how such a heavily armored hull can even be lifted up into the air. The balloon itself is a mana-electricity converter unlike any you've seen before. This one is of a colossal scale, dwarfing those on other airships and even those providing power to the city. The balloon is covered in even more plates than the hull is, showing just how vital it is for the operation of the airship.
Rising up a ramp, a door in its side swings open from a bottom hinge, providing you the last bit of bridge you need to enter. Stepping on the wood and then into the ship itself, you find yourself in a vast chamber filled with an array of cannons. Unlike most other airships with dedicated cannon ports, The Indomitable's design is unique. The plates and wood of the vessel can be lifted to expose the cannons beneath, allowing for a powerful and flexible offensive capability.
It is, without a doubt, a machine of war. If there was a single demonstration of Chromore's might, it was this.
Exploring further, you come across several rooms inside the airship, each with its own purpose. One room is a finely appointed lounge, adorned with plush chairs and intricate wooden carvings. Another chamber contains a well-stocked library, with tomes on a wide range of subjects, including engineering, astronomy, and magic. You also discover a well-equipped laboratory, filled with devices and experiments that hint at the Ingeniator's relentless pursuit of knowledge.
Eventually, climbing a staircase leads you to the deck of the airship, and your thoughts immediately turn to sabotage as you see machines hooked up directly to the converter balloon. Without a doubt, they are responsible for the running and maintenance of the balloon. You consider various ways to disrupt the airship's machinery and covertly undermine its functionality.
Thankfully, all of the guards are faced away, and any curious workers are pacified by the presence of the receptionist. Of course, despite their caution, the receptionist is a busy person. From time to time they have to turn away to deal with some issue or another, and it's only then that you'll move to tamper with the machines.
One option is to manipulate the electrical relays connected to the converter balloon. You're no engineer by any means, but you know that bad things happen if something that's supposed to be somewhere else goes where it's not to. While a lesser vessel would have disastrous consequences for this, you're willing to bet that the Ingeniator would have certain failsafes in place to prevent a critical failure. This will most likely prevent the ship from even starting, although the problem is easily fixable.
You notice a series of intricate control panels off to the side. For a delayed failure, you could tamper with the pressure valves, causing a gradual reduction in mana conversion efficiency. Initially, the airship would function smoothly, but over time, the reduced mana output would lead to a gradual loss of power. It's a subtle, but effective touch.
Of course, there's always the most violent option. You've noticed that the converters are exclusively powered by mana cubes, which makes sense since they're completely pure, condensed forms of magic. Everybody has a little bit of magic in them, and if you can withstand the pain, you could drain some of your magic into one of the machines. The airship would have to run through its first batch of mana cubes, but as soon as your impure mana is harnessed, it would explode from the inside.
Each sabotage method carries its own risks and consequences, and you must carefully weigh your choices before taking action. Your decision determines not only the status of The Indomitable, but an integral part of Chromore's military.
You...
(link:"mess with the electrical relays.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(set:$feiloftsaboType to 1)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
(link:"turn the pressure valves.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(set:$feiloftsaboType to 2)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
(link:"drain your mana into the machine.")[(set:$feiloftSabotage to true)(set:$indomitableCondition to true)(goto:"FeiloftLeave")]
[[leave it well alone.->FeiloftLeave]]As you both walk towards the train station, the stilted conversation between you gradually smooths into polite banter. The air is filled with the rhythmic clanking of boots on the metal walkway, punctuated by the occasional hiss of steam vents from nearby structures. It's rare for the Ingeniator to ever venture outside of his workshop, so passersby openly gawk at the sight.
Fenborz' voice carries a hint of pride as he shares the latest advancements in airship technology, highlighting how his colleague and co-ruler Blaylock mapped out a perfected version of the mana-electric converter. Although strictly theoretical at this point, the wholly unique way Fenborz approaches it- suggesting an even more perfect, yet even more theoretical plan based on assumptions he's clearly made on the way magic shapes the world- engrosses you in the conversation.
It's clear that, before ruler, Fenborz is first and foremost an inventor who shares his overflowing thoughts to anyone who'll listen.
The discussion then shifts to diplomatic matters, and you discover that Fenborz is considerably less knowledgeable in this aspect of leadership. While he knows all about anything that directly presses on Chromore, clear uncertainty rings through his voice as he makes vague generalizations on other things that you bring up. It is during one of these vague responses that he happens to mention your brother.
You seize the opportunity and, with a hint of concern in your voice, inquire, "Speaking of my brother, have you heard any news regarding his whereabouts? He mysteriously disappeared some time ago, and my family has been deeply concerned."
Fenborz' gaze remains steady, his mask of gears and cogs concealing any emotions that might lie beneath. You hesitate for a moment, a fleeting suspicion crossing your mind. It was entirely possible Fenborz was somehow involved in your brother's disappearance. Your concern prompts you to ask, "Do you know where he went?"
Fenborz' response is remarkably composed. "I remember the news well enough. As soon as I heard the rumblings I let loose every single guard and airship at my disposal to ensure that he hadn't been lost in my cities. However, I still have not received the slightest hint of his presence."
You absorb this disheartening information, the suspicion you briefly entertained fading away as Fenborz' words carry a sincere and somber tone. Fenborz continues, "Our focus in Chromore is the relentless pursuit of innovation and progress. We seek no interference in the internal affairs of other nations, nor do we have any interest in causing the disappearance of rulers. Our path is one of invention and improvement, irrespective of the actions or circumstances of rulers in distant lands."
You would not be finding your brother in Chromore.
[[Continue.->KorycaiQuarters]]In the company of the enigmatic Ingeniator, you ascend a series of winding staircases, each revealing the inner workings of the marvel that is Korycai. As you climb higher, you notice an array of copper lights lighting your way, each containing a single bolt of electricity that undulates straight up and down.
Eventually, you emerge into a long hallway with only a few doors lining its walls. Fenborz opens up the nearest door and gestures for you to see for yourself.
Moving past him, you're greeted by a room that encapsulates most of Chromore's ideas in a living setting. The walls are adorned with intricate brass gears and cogs, while the floor boasts a polished wooden surface that gleams under the soft, ambient lighting. The room is generously spacious, with high ceilings with a roof that arches instead of laying flat. Speaking of arches, many decorative ones run along the roof's underside.
Before you get too lost in the room, you turn around and thank Fenborz for lodging you.
"Speak nothing of it. I will be in my workshop if you require anything of me." With that, Fenborz takes his leave, and you're free to explore the room as you see fit.
The focal point of the room is a magnificent bed with a towering four-poster frame, draped in deep, rich fabrics that add a touch of regal luxury. You silently thank Fenborz for having the sense not to make it out of a spinning gear, or to make it float, or any number of odd things inventors could do.
On top of the bed lays an incredibly large pillow, about the size of a log. You press your fingers against it. It's soft enough, but firm, and you're unsure if you're actually going to rest your head on it. Perhaps your back, if you're looking to stretch your spine.
You spot plush armchairs with tufted leather upholstery over rich carpet sitting next to a fireplace. Curious, you move over to the latter, spotting four pipes sitting vertically in the base of the fireplace. They're all attached to a single valve, and when you turn it, they each make a small, deep blue flame that gradually melds with the others around it. Before long, a proper fire is roaring. You turn it off; Chromore isn't particularly cold, and coming from the cold mountains, most places are hotter than you'd prefer. You resume looking around.
A brass writing desk sits beside a towering bookshelf filled with volumes of tomes on machinery, magic, and the arcane arts. The last two are particularly interesting because, instead of being the usual tome or grimoire written by mages, these are theories attempting to explain or integrate magic into non-magical understanding.
An array of steampunk gadgets and contraptions adorn the desk, their intricate designs hinting at functional purposes. There's even a teapot which, given a little shake in your hand, is full of warm, freshly-brewed tea. You have better things to do than fiddle, however, and you move over to a small seating area by the window. It provides a serene view of the cityscape below, framed by heavy velvet curtains.
Moving towards the adjacent bathroom, you find a well-appointed space with gleaming brass fixtures. Well, nothing else to do but strip and clean yourself.
After that brief moment of respite and with the grime of the day banished, the bed calls to you. There is still time to do something, however, and you grapple with the choice before you.
[[Visit the workshop.->FenborzWorkshop]]
Visit the meeting room.
Explore the rest of the tower.
[[Just sleep.->FenborzMeeting]]The old man, seemingly delighted by your curiosity, readily agrees to provide you with a tour of the factory. As you embark on the guided exploration, the truth about Schanschirr becomes even more perplexing.
The first room you enter is filled with machinery, albeit of a simpler kind than you expected. The workshop is remarkably small, with workstations neatly lined up in tight rows. It feels more like an artisan's studio than a grand manufacturing hub. The workers you see are occupied with assembling various components, but a nagging feeling of wrong causes you to scrutinize them further. It's not just the scale of production, but the fact that the parts seem far too small to be used in generators. They're more akin to what you'd find in toys. (if:$chroItem is 5)[You would know, having seen them while buying the headdress.](elseif:$chroItem is >=0)[You would know, your own figurine bouncing against your side in the satchel you wear.]
Your guide continues to lead you through the factory, taking you to what appears to be an assembly room. This room, too, surprises you with its small size and limited activity. A few workers diligently work on the frames of mana-electricity converters, but the space lacks the bustling energy you'd anticipated. In fact, are they actually attaching things to the frames? You're hurried along by your guide before you can watch them for too long.
As you follow the old man through the building, you can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. This can't possibly be the heart of the operation.
Your doubt deepens when you spot a large door with a glass window. Through it, you catch a glimpse of a descending stairway. The sight raises questions about what lies beneath, but the old man promptly redirects your attention elsewhere, avoiding any discussion of the lower levels.
The tour comes to an end, leaving you with more questions than answers. As you exit Schanschirr, a sense of frustration lingers in the air. Your suspicions about the factory's true nature were confirmed – it's far too small and underwhelming to be the epicenter of Chromore's mana-electricity converter production. However, you find yourself without any tangible evidence to substantiate your concerns.
With a heavy heart, you make your way back to the train station. That was your one shot at figuring it out, but you approached it incorrectly. The element of surprise gone, you'd have to return in your official status to see what's going on, and even then, you wouldn't have the freedom to do something to the factory.
[[You have no other choice but to return to your journey.->ChromoreTrain3]] As the train departs from this unsolved mystery, you contemplate your next move.Upon hearing your interest in purchasing a mana-electricity converter, the old overseer at Schanschirr agrees to assist you in your quest. Leading you to a door, he guides you down a descending staircase, taking you deeper into the mysterious heart of the factory. As you emerge into a dimly lit hallway, your eyes scour for any bit of information, but finds little.
The hallway splits in two, and your guide leads you to the right. You hope, desperately, that you might have the chance to go the other direction later. For now, the hallway on the right brings you to a spacious room reminiscent of a study. It has rich carpets, plush seating, tall bookcases, a desk, and a quill resting in an ink pot as you might expect. However, the sides are domianted by various display models of mana-electricity converters, each one bearing unique designs and features. Some examples catch your eye:
One, bearing a plaque denoting it as 'The Luminar MK-1', is remarkably compact. It boasts an intricately crafted exterior, resembling a miniature clockwork city, with tiny gears and delicate spires.
"A favorite amongst men in business such as yourself," says the old man as he sidles up next to you. "Can easily be placed in the lobby of any building, and can power several floors if wired correctly."
Next is a converter bigger even than most of the others you've already seen, and exactly what you'd think of when you hear the term 'industrial.' It's adorned with enormous pistons and vents and, although it isn't running (and probably isn't capable of running, being a display), you can just hear the deafening noise it makes as it powers some project of immense scale. Its appropriately large plaque denotes it 'Riesduan.' Perhaps it is the first of its model.
Lastly, you come across a model that seems more akin to something you'd find in the Floating Citadel. Most of its components are obviously magical in nature, with glowing crystal nodes and etchings of arcane symbols all across its ringed structure. In fact, coming across its name, 'Arcane Nexus Prototype', all but confirms this to you. It only makes sense that the mages would try their hand at making something like this, but you immediately see why they haven't taken off in the magical world or even the Floating Citadel. Mages had very little use for a device that could harness mana to create electricity when they themselves could do so, and probably already had versions for magical applications far beforehand.
While you're fascinated by the variety of converters on display, a sense of frustration simmers within you. It's one thing to see the empty shells of converters and quite another to actually see them being built, let alone actually being able to do something about them.
You express false interest in purchasing one of the models- a random one, since you really didn't intend to buy any. The old man was all too happy to produce a mountain of paperwork consisting of permit request forms and extensive business documentation due to Chromore's strict laws regarding their converters. Assuring the overseer that you'll dutifully fill out all the necessary forms, you accept the pile of documents.
However, once you've left the factory, your intentions take a sharp turn. Spotting an empty barrel nearby, you dump the pile inside without remorse. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, [[you make your way back to the train station->ChromoreTrain3]], contemplating your encounters within Schanschirr and your unfulfilled quest for answers.As you proudly present your royal insignia, the old overseer's eyes widen in astonishment. He stammers slightly before regaining his composure and, in a more respectful tone, asks "What does the illustrious King of Wevendh wish from this humble factory?"
With regal authority behind your words, you calmly reply, "I want to see the factory. The real one- where the mana-electricity converters are actually made. Surely a building this small can't be the pride of Chromore's power industry, not with what the Ingeniator said about it."
He pauses, and you can just about picture the thoughts clicking together in his head. It's an audacious move, you'll admit, but things like doublechecking and ensuring permission tend to fall to the wayside to the presence of royalty. It's not like you're lying, either. The Ingeniator, at some point in time during one of your prior visits, must have said something about his factories... probably. At that point you were probably preoccupied with one clockwork device or another, or even considering the potential reality of living in such a place.
Thankfully, your little ruse works.
The old man bows and stands up straighter, his entire demeanor changed to that of someone who holds real authority. "My name is Verhuzhen, and I am Captain of the Guard here at Schanschirr. I assume the Ingeniator is on his way and will be here shortly. I will inform him of your advance presence."
He dutifully turns to a device heavily concealed behind a jutting pipe and does exactly as he says. The clock is ticking, and it ends precisely when the Ingeniator sees you.
"I'm sure he could find us even if we were to take the tour a little early," you say with a dazzling smile. "I know this isn't proper protocol, but I intended to retire to my quarters after the weeks it took me to travel here."
Your traveling garb lends great effect to a slightly exaggerated stretch that you perform. The captain, who has been remarkably impassive ever since he dropped his own facade, gives a regretful nod. It's the kind of thing you remember Old Ash doing when he needed to bend the rules a little, whether it was to play with the child versions of you and your brother, or to surveil the life of families under suspicion. In fact, you remember Shizomu starting to pick up the habit.
"I am but a humble servant, and if a guest of the Ingeniator requests it be done, I shall do so."
He turns and starts walking, leading you to a door with a glass window on it. You don't need to peer through it, as he holds the door open for you. It leads directly to a staircase, which you descend quickly. You end up in a rather barren hallway, notable only for the fact that it splits off to the left and right. The captain quickly catches up and beckons for you to follow him to the left.
[[Continue.->SchanschirrFactory]]Past another turn, the scene unfolds before you with an impressive display of machinery and activity. Dozens upon dozens of workers and machines work in tandem to produce the frames you've seen and come to know in this city.
Workers hunched over gleaming workbenches stare through multiple rings of magnifying glasses, carefully affixing the most delicate parts of the machinery in their places with notched tweezers. You spot one recently completed, and the worker steps back to pull a lever. The combination is picked up by a hanging claw and moved away to some other far-off part of the factory.
Verhuzhen, your guide, gestures toward the intricate process unfolding before you, offering insights into the careful craftsmanship and precise engineering required for each converter. He explains how the converters harness the power of mana, mostly in layman's terms, although most of it goes over your head regardless.
Seeing the process from up close like this, you realize that some of the patterns within the machinery are those of magical symbols. Rather than etching lines into material, the materials themselves are fitted together in a way that the space between them forms the symbols. It is common opinion that Chromore is trying to replace magic, but looking at this, you have to speak to the contrary. Rather than trying to replace magic, the Ingeniator has clearly embraced the role of magic within technology and simply uses it as a system with which to progress on.
As you continue your exploration, you begin to notice distinct stations dedicated to different aspects of production. Some stations focus on the construction of intricate gears, while others assemble the ornate casings that house the converters.
It's not long before your observant eye catches a startling revelation. Amidst the movement-heavy stations, you come across areas dedicated to the assembly of distinctly different machines. Although they create parts similar to those of the other sections of the factory, they differ in size and even color. It is only when you look toward the end of the line that you realize, and can't help but gasp.
Heads are fitted onto blocky, square-like casings. As the worker turns the head to screw it into place, you spot the distinctive mustaches of the guards from the train station. You glance toward Verhuzhen, hiding your shock. You thought it had just been the converters that had driven the Ingeniator to appoint a captain to maintain the illusion of a small-scale factory, but in truth, it was also to hide the construction of the guards who roam the city.
In the middle of the tour, Verhuzhen suddenly stops and checks a device strapped to his wrist. "The Ingeniator has arrived. I will escort him to you shortly."
You stare at Verhuzhen's back for a few moments before turning to the factory. This is your chance to...
(link:"grab a list of worker names.")[(set:$schanschirrSteal to 1)(goto:"SchanschirrFenborz")]
(link:"steal a guard controller.")[(set:$schanschirrSteal to 2)(set:$schanschirrCondition to true)(goto:"SchanschirrFenborz")]
(link:"memorize the process to the best of your abilities.")[(set:$schanschirrSteal to 3)(goto:"SchanschirrFenborz")]
[[wait where you are so you don't cause a political disaster.->SchanschirrFenborz]]{(if:$schanschirrSteal is 1)[With a quick glance around to ensure no prying eyes, you decide to seize the opportunity. You carefully lift a paper from an unattended workstation, containing a list of factory worker names. As you skim through the document, you find an array of unfamiliar names, each, in their own symbolic way, representing an integral cog in the machinery of the factory. You aren't quite sure what you'll do with it yet- perhaps finding colleagues or even poaching them for Wevendh's own use- but information like this is a powerful tool in the right hands.]
(elseif:$schanschirrSteal is 2)[Your spotted it much earlier, but you wouldn't dare even look like you're reaching for it with the captain standing right by your side- a controller for the automated guards. At the end of each of the assembly lines, workers use it to ensure that the guards are functional. Luckily for you, one of these assembly lines is currently inactive, and you rush for it as soon as no one is looking.<br><br>It's a small device, easily concealed in your pocket. The prospect of obtaining such a valuable piece of technology, capable of manipulating the city's guardians themselves, fills you with excitement and trepidation. Your fingers deftly slip the controller into your possession, and you can't help but wonder about the potential applications of this newfound tool.]
(elseif:$schanschirrSteal is 3)[Recognizing the significance of this unique opportunity, you decide to focus on observation and memorization. You're no engineer, so you don't catch every single detail of the factory process, but you etch the main details of the factory process as best you can. You diligently study the workers, machines, and intricate steps involved in converter production. Wevendh doesn't have all that much to gain from electricity conversion due to the existence of magic and the Floating Citadel's proximity, but you never know. An intimate understanding of the manufacturing process may prove vital in other nations.]
(else:)[Cautious and aware of the potential consequences of your actions, you opt for discretion and non-interference. You stand still, resisting the allure of taking any action that might jeopardize your diplomatic mission or incite political discord. While the factory moves at blazing pace, you remain a still and inconspicuous observer, content to play a passive role and avoid any unintended complications that could arise from your actions.]}
It isn't very long before the corner of your eye snags on the unmistakable yellow on blue, and you turn to spot Verhuzhen escorting the Ingeniator himself. The robes you saw are almost disturbingly good at hiding his form, as the patterns of yellow like lightning draw your eye away from any body structure you'd otherwise be able to spot. The effect is uncanny; instead of walking, he looks like he's gliding gracefully above the floor.
Additionally, when he gestures as he converses with Verhuzhen, the way his robe bulges out is more reminiscent of an amorphous mass shifting itself around rather than any extension of limbs.
You're left to wonder why exactly the Ingeniator designed his clothing like this. Is this simply a case of over-secrecy like the rumors abounded, the complete rejection of recognizability due to some hideous scar? Or is it the chosen form of a man who would abandon the human form for the machine's?
Finally, Ingeniator Fenborz Hsuefte stands before you.
It takes you some time to find his eyes among the complicated gear and cog patterns on his mask, but when you do, you are taken aback. His gaze bores into yours, the bright green even in the darkness of his mask overwhelming. You bite back your discomfort as much as you possibly can, bracing yourself for whatever might happen next.
You hear clicking from somewhere on his person, right before he bursts into speech. "I thought it was some brigand who'd stolen the insignia, or some charlatan with exceptional craft, but it is indeed the brother! Forgive me- I had to take a second to recall your face."
His tone is clearly one of excitement despite his deep voice, and suddenly the non-human figure isn't nearly as frightening as he once was.
"Still, I hadn't quite expected this. When Verhuzhen told me you were here already, I was so surpr-"
You cut him off quickly, your eyes glancing toward Verhuzhen for a split second. "I simply had to visit after what you'd said about it. I was never afforded the chance to on my prior visits, so I took it upon myself to bring myself to one of the pinnacles of the technological world."
Bullseye. Your words strike such a chord with Fenborz that, even as hidden as he is, excitement rolls off him in waves. He starts gushing about Schanschirr's achievements, not once pausing to explain in simpler terms or even breathe, until he suddenly freezes.
"Ah, yes, forgive me. You haven't been shown to the royal guest quarters. Tell me you did not seek lodging in the city- they are frightfully small. Come, I shall show you to them."
There is little else to do but [[follow him.->FenborzTrain]]For a moment, you are caught between simply waiting and actively trying to find a way in. Thankfully, before you can do something that would honestly result in you getting electrocuted, there's a strange crackling noise that draws your attention upward.
The first thing you notice is an eye-like device peering down at you. Eye-like is not an exaggeration, as its metal lids slide in approximations of blinking. But that's not the source of the sound, so you draw your eyes downward. At first you think it's simply a hole with a gear-like hatch on it, but looking closer, it's actually the sides smoothly sloping into the center, into a raised bump. You don't understand the purpose of it- at least, not until a familiar voice comes through.
"Ah, so it is you. There are some visitors from time to time who are a little too curious for their own good. But it is quite fortunate you happened to present your face; I nearly didn't recognize you without your finery. It has been quite some time since you visited last, and your brother as well..."
The Ingeniator goes silent for some time, but without him in the same room, you can't tell what he's thinking at all.
"Well! Let us put that aside. I shouldn't keep a guest like yourself standing. I have decided it- I will show to your quarters personally, since neither of my colleagues are here at the moment." His voice grows quieter as he reaches the end of his words, an indicator of him already leaving.
It takes some time, but suddenly and all at once, the electric barrier disappears. The door opens inward, revealing the robe-clad figure of the Ingeniator, Fenborz Hsuefte. You correct your thoughts from earlier- even with him directly in front of you, you glean very little from his masked face, and perhaps even less from the lightning-like yellow patterns on his blue robes, making it impossible to determine his actual outline.
Gears clicking precede his speech. "While the circumstances certainly could have been better, but from a prince to a king- why, it must be terribly exciting. You've even travelled without an entourage! How the culture of Wevendh changes so quickly. I simply must visit at some point. But- ah! I've spoken for too long. Come, come. You must rest."
He turns around, and you [[follow him->KorycaiQuarters]] upward, into the real heart of Korycai.The night is still young. You'll rest right after you visit the Ingeniator and his mysterious workshop.
As you walk down the hallway, you remember that you've never actually stepped foot nor even seen the place. Perhaps your brother did, on visits you were neither on nor privy to.
You intended to knock on the door once you reach it, but you realize that it's simply fully ajar. Peering inside, you find the scene unfurling exactly as you thought it would.
Fenborz' workshop is a realm of perplexing devices, scribbled notation attached directly to the wall, and materials and tools of all sorts occupying any inch of desk space that they can find. The only truly surprising thing, then, is that the floors are completely clean. You can't quite speak to why that's the case, but you have the sneaking suspicion that it has to do with the Ingeniator or his guests tripping in a room filled with metal objects.
Still, the sheer complexity of the machinery leaves you awestruck. As you cautiously approach, the rhythmic clinking of gears fills the air, and there stands Fenborz, absorbed in his work. His arms are finally free of his robes, although not bare; they are clad in black leather. Gloves, perhaps. On the desk before him sits a device whose design is completely unlike what you've seen before, even in Chromore.
It's an incredibly lengthy device, around half the length of Fenborz' entire body. One end flares out- you assume this is the handle- which tapers into the normal length of the device. Not long after the handle, however, there seems to be another one sticking out. Directly attached to that handle is a frame of mostly empty space; within it is a curved band of metal. Perhaps Fenborz forgot to shear that band down. From there the device stretches on, lined with gears, but on top of it all sits a miniature telescope. There are lines of magnifying glasses hanging in the air in front of it, and you assume the crank they're connected to lines them up. Directly underneath the scope on one side is a key. From there the device stretches into a blunted point with a hole on the end.
On the same desk sit three glowing flasks of liquid. You step even closer, amazed that Fenborz hasn't noticed you yet. The first flask's liquid is red, and as you stare at it, it suddenly starts moving violently, as if it is boiling. It subsides the very next second afterward. Underneath it is a large handwritten 'DANGER' label, and just underneath it is a hastily scribbled 'For Personal Use'. The second flask's liquid is blue, and its stillness is unnatural. Even when Fenborz jostles the desk, it refuses to move. The very last flask's liquid is green, and constantly swirls, driven by some force.
You've done quite enough inspecting, so you step back some and say, "Hello."
Fenborz jumps, his hands wildly flinging out as he lets out a... surprisingly girlish yelp. He very nearly bats the device he was working on right onto the floor, and for a split second, you swear that he's about to tip over and plant mask-first onto the desk, crushing his work and spilling the flasks all over himself.
Fortunately, he recovers just in time and steadies himself with a spin- at which point his eyes land on you.
"Sorry for surprising you," you say a little sheepishly. Perhaps you should have knocked on the door like you first intended.
The clicking sound comes again as Fenborz lets out a deep sigh. His equally deep voice comes soon after. "No, it's quite all right. Truth be told, you're not much better than some of my colleagues who //should// know better. Honestly, what was Nicodemus thinking when he ran in here talking of matters most dire? He took me away from some volatile liquid just to show me how the condensation on his cup looked like a dog! I mean, it did, but that wasn't worth cleaning all the bubbles."
Gesturing to the flasks, you interject. "I'm curious. What are those?"
"Oh! Those are just tools for my self-defense." He takes a breath, as if on the cusp of explaining more, before suddenly changing the topic. "Just a few nondescript tools, although only one of them came out the way I wanted it. And that happens when you're in this line of work, you know. You start off asking a question, like 'why is it that soap bubbles?' And before you know it, you're making a saponification device to see if you can make glass into soap."
He pauses. "I started talking on my own again, didn't I? Agh, Blaylock usually guides me on these things, especially when I haven't slept for a while. I simply must- must speak with you! Yes, yes, you're here. What are you doing here? Couldn't sleep?"
You pat your stomach emphatically. "I actually haven't had anything to eat for the whole day. It's actually quite hard to find food in a city like this."
"Ah, indeed, indeed!" Fenborz takes on an apologetic tone. "I'm not much of a cook, but I should have something or another fit for consumption. And uneaten, too! I don't usually eat while in here. Too many complications, you see. Plus, no one likes fingerprint stains on their beakers."
Fenborz merrily moves to another desk, bends over, and starts looking for the food he promised.
As he busies himself with the hunt for food, your gaze returns to the flasks, an idea forming in your mind. This may be the perfect opportunity to subtly rearrange the flasks, should you see any reason to do so.
(link:"Swap the red and green flasks.")[(set:$flaskCondition to true)(goto:"FenborzFood")]
(link:"Swap the red and blue flasks.")[(set:$flaskColor to "blue")(goto:"FenborzFood")]
[[Swap the blue and green flasks.->FenborzFood]]
[[Just wait for your food.->FenborzFood]]Fenborz returns with a bowl and presents it to you. "It's not warm anymore, sorry."
It's true. When you take it in your hands, there's no heat on your fingertips. Still, what's inside makes you curious. It's two sausages on top of a bunch of noodles, as well as a two-pronged fork. With nothing to do but taste it, you grab the fork and start eating.
Truth be told, hot or not, it's delicious. The first thing you try is one of the sausages, and you're hit with a burst of savory, slightly smoky goodness. It's accompanied by the satisfying snap of a juicy bite. Swirling the noodles around your fork, you're next given a taste of the savory sauce that coats the noodles, balancing between sweetness and saltiness. It's both tender and chewy, and the hearty elements of the dish all balance each other out. Perhaps you should actually try this hot at some point.
Fenborz watched you all throughout and gladly takes the bowl from you when you finish. "So? How was it?"
"Pretty damn good," you reply.
"Ah, splendid. That's Blaylock's cooking. Perhaps I should try my hand at culinary science, but the variance of style is daunting. What fun is a device that can only produce the Chromoric when Wevendh has its own cuisine? I'll note it down for later, but I have oh so many things to do, and all of them so dreadfully important... ah, but don't let me hold you. Please, return to your room if you are satisfied."
You nod and leave Fenborz to his work. A cup of tea washes the lingering flavor out of your mouth, and you head to [[sleep->FenborzMeeting]].You awaken from your restful slumber, feeling entirely revitalized. After completing your morning routine, you head straight for the meeting room.
As you step inside, you're greeted by the familiar, lounge-like room you visited all those years ago. Gleaming brass accents catch your eye, while plush leather armchairs beckon invitingly.
Unlike the walls of other buildings in Chromore, the gear motifs aren't merely decorations etched into the walls, nor are they for a strictly practical purpose. On one wall is a massive collection of gears that recess or jut out of the wall to form the outline of a nation. You know this immediately because, on top of being here before, the nation it's currently showing is Wevendh. As the gears turn, they automatically cycle through other nations, and move accordingly.
You take a seat at the long table that dominates the center of the room while admiring it. It serves as an excellent visual time killer, and before long, Fenborz enters the room. His robe seems just a bit cleaner than it did yesterday- did he clean it, or does he simply have a wardrobe full of the same patterned robes ready to go?
The conversation doesn't start with that, of course.
It actually starts with the speech of kings and rulers; that casual, almost off-handed manner of speaking that carries the weight of nations behind it and the potential to change the world. However, as the dialogue unfolds, Fenborz's interest seems to wane.
"I suppose my colleagues are very, very busy..." He says, leaning back into his chair, his robes' blobby form deforming further. He hangs his head back almost childishly. "I wish they were here."
With a subtle change in tone, Fenborz steers the conversation in a different direction. "Say, why are you here to begin with? The journey is dreadfully long, isn't it? And to come without an entourage- my curiosity is piqued."
"It's a matter of utmost importance," you start.
You...
want to discuss Chromore and Wevendh allying.
(link:"invite him onto a train in order to attack him.")[(set:$playerAggro to $playerAggro +1)(set:$playerFight to $playerFight + 1)(goto:"FenborzFight")]
propose to him.
ask for help finding your brother."It is a matter of utmost importance, I assure you." You purposely present yourself in the most serious light possible, even down to the way you sit up straight in your chair. "You see, a few weeks ago, I came across an ancient artifact. The greatest machinists of my kingdom deciphered its purpose, which is to contain, but they have all failed to open it. I thought of no one better to approach this with than you."
"Truly? Produce it, then. I have more than enough equipment to test it."
You shake your head. "It is not on my person. I thought it too dangerous to take into your home without prior permission."
Fenborz scoffs and immediately waves him off. "Even if the artifact explodes, I can just find another home and workshop. My people are innovators; neither they nor I would mind."
"A thousand thanks to you, Ingeniator. I left it in my carriage, in a compartment only I can unlock. You'll want to see how it reacts to regular transportation, correct? Accompany me, and we can unlock its secret together."
Ever since you stepped into Korycai, you never felt like you had the advantage. There's nothing overtly threatening anywhere, and you don't even see any automated guards roaming the higher floors. But that's exactly what makes you so afraid of carrying your plan out here. You saw firsthand how easily electricity shoots out of doors and how Fenborz' voice can be transmitted to the ground floor below- you wouldn't be surprised if this entire room is rigged to restrain you. Even if it wasn't the work of Fenborz, you have no assurance that those functions weren't put in place by Blaylock and Nicodemus.
But there was a way to lure an inventor out of his position, to remove him from the defenses he built around himself; present him with an enigma.
"Oh, yes, indeed. I will bring whatever equipment is mobile enough. I'm honored to be the one to do so, in fact. Ancient knowledge- it's not exactly something I'm known for, but perhaps some concepts will apply to future theories."
And just like that, soon enough, you're stepping on a train with him. Fenborz' private train, to be specific- apparently it can be placed on any track, and currently it's on the fastest one straight to the edge of Chromore, where your carriage awaits. It's formed from 12 railway carriages, each of which is much longer and more lavishly decorated than the already quite glamorous trains you've seen in Chromore. It resembles a cathedral, almost, with arches and stained glass windows running along its length.
Entering, you notice that even the doorways are different. Perhaps taking cues from Astope, Fenborz has forgone doors for completely removing the sections of wall between two carriages. They're quite wide, too; it's more entryway than wall, and you can see a wide angle. It's a strange design choice, as you imagine that an inventor of Fenborz' scale would have decked it out with tech, but it probably serves some purpose or another. Probably decorative.
Anticipation fills the air as the two of you make your way to the farthermost cabin. For Fenborz it is excitement, but for you, it is the anxiety that comes with concealing your true intentions. It's a combination carriage; rather than dedicating one to the controls, Fenborz saw it fit to simply make it mostly a sitting room. The reason why makes itself readily apparent once the train starts moving- the wheel that steers it does so automatically, and its precise calibrations make it so that any turns the train takes are barely noticeable.
The rhythmic clattering of wheels on the tracks fills the cabin. The train's motion lulls Fenborz into a sense of security, aided on by small talk that you supply him with. You couldn't ask for a better location to attack him. Since Fenborz rarely leaves his workshop, it only makes sense that that would be the most heavily fortified location. The next would be Korycai itself. The train that he barely uses? Not so much. And the best part- once you disable Fenborz, you can take him hostage and bring him to Wevendh from your carriage.
You spot your chance not long into the journey. Fenborz stands up and wanders over to the corner, where stacks of his equipment rest. He claimed he was bringing only his mobile ones, but with this stack, you're forced to wonder just how much equipment he actually has in the workshop.
"What are you doing?" You ask breezily, slowly following him.
"Oh, I'm making sure the calibrations are correct. If it's attuned to my workshop, I can use that as a baseline for when we start the tests proper, in unfamiliar surroundings."
You let him ramble on, silently unsheathing a dagger you hid in your boot. The gleaming steel you hold is filled with purpose as you aim for a decisive strike- just short of killing him.
//CRASH//
{(if:$flaskCondition is true)[As the flask shatters, a sudden tempest of wind erupts, hurling Fenborz violently into the cabin wall. Simultaneously, you're propelled through the air, your body hurtling back towards the rear of the train- specifically, towards a big glass window. In a desperate lunge, you manage to seize the edge of a machine in the final car before you can crash through it. Hanging precariously on to your finger hold, you watch with trepidation as Fenborz, who has swiftly regained his composure, reaches for a device you recognize- the one he was developing in his workshop.<br><br>
Fenborz reveals his invention and sets it up on a stand pointed toward you, your predicament taking a perilous turn. Breathing heavily, he seizes the interphone, his voice ringing through the train's speakers.<br><br>
"I had my suspicions, you know," he says, his tone laced with a mix of astonishment and disappointment. "But to think you would go so far as to switch my flasks behind my back... If nothing else, you are a determined assailant."<br><br>
The tempest from the flask gradually subsides, and you regain your footing just as Fenborz continues, his voice taking on an ominous tone. "You'll be the first test subject for my newest invention-- the telescopic long-range rifle."<br><br>
As he speaks those words, a mixture of dread and determination coils within you. You have to get to Fenborz and take him out before this train ride ends. There's nothing to do but [[run->FenborzFightInit]].
]
(elseif:$flaskColor is "red")[As the flask shatters, its contents explode into a searing burst of flame, throwing you into the wall with savage ease. You bounce off the wall and collapse into a crumpled heap. You fight to maintain consciousness, your thoughts racing even as your body fluctuates between feeling nothing and intense, unbearable pain.<br><br>
In your hazy state, you hope that Fenborz, too, will be affected by the explosion, but as your vision slowly clears, you discover the truth.<br><br>
Fenborz stands before you, not even a scorch mark on him. His presence remains intact, and his voice, calm and unwavering, cuts through the disarray. "I don't wear these robes or my mask for nothing," he declares, his tone laced with an almost disappointed resolve. "They're lined with explosion dampeners in case traitors like you try to touch me."<br><br>
Your futile attempt has not only failed but also unveiled the extent of Fenborz's cunning defenses. Now incapacitated and at his mercy, you must face the punishment looming over you.<br><br>
[[Continue.->FenborzBadEnd1]]
]
(elseif:$flaskColor is "blue")[As the flask shatters, an icy blast envelops you in a frozen prison, immobilizing your every muscle. Panic surges through you as you realize the extent of your predicament. You can't move, can't even shiver within your icy cocoon. Your thoughts race, and you hope against hope that Fenborz, too, would be ensnared by the icy trap he's unleashed. Your hopes, however, are swiftly dashed.<br><br>
Fenborz stands before you, untouched by the freezing tempest. His robes you understand, but you had thought his mask would be especially vulnerable. Instead, it now proves to be another part of his defense. His voice, unwavering, slices through the frosty air.<br><br>
"You switched them, didn't you?" he utters, his words heavy with disappointment. "It was good fortune that I made my clothing ice-resistant quite recently. I'm hurt to see you betray me not once, but twice."<br><br>
Trapped in the icy grip, you realize that, although you had the right idea, you didn't realize that even the second choice in an inventor's arsenal could debilitate almost as well as the first.<br><br>
Your futile attempt has not only failed but also unveiled the extent of Fenborz's cunning defenses. Now incapacitated and at his mercy, you must face the punishment looming over you.<br><br>
[[Continue.->FenborzBadEnd1]]
]
}The whistle of the train signals the start of your shift.
Just a few days ago you were a king, but now you are known only as the waiter on the train built shortly after your defeat- the Dragon Tamer, a train promising 'a completely new experience,' only available to adult passengers. To add even further insult to injury, you've been fitted with an electric collar that prevents you from leaving the train, harming passengers, or disobeying any orders given to you.
Your new life starts when the first group of passengers board the train. You blush furiously, trying to maintain even the slightest hint of dignity even as your uniform's top stops just above your nipples and it's 'bottom', if you could even call it that, is an incredibly skimpy version of braies that provides a pouch for your genitals but showcases everything else. You hope that your fierce glare keeps them away.
They murmur amongst themselves as they watch you, all in various degrees of interest, until a particuarly bold young man steps past them and takes one look at you. He's handsome, but in a way that has clearly shaped him; you can feel arrogance just in the way he walks. He raises an eyebrow before smacking you right on the ass. You yelp, unable to tell him to stop.
"Huh. I heard the waiter was going to be a slut, but I didn't think they'd be this easy."
Rather than listen to the demeaning words, you listen to the now much more animated chatter of the crowd. Apparently the man who did such an indecent thing to you is the son of a prominent train company family. You hope to glean more information about that to perhaps persuade him to help you out of this situation, but your hopes are dashed when the topic once again comes to you.
"I heard he's a king." a voice says quietly, but exactly in a lull in the conversation, so everyone hears it.
"This slut?" The heir smacks you again, but his hand stays right where it is, groping, rolling around your cheek like he owns it. "Look at him. If he's a king, he's pretty eager to let me use him. Well, I can't blame him. I guess I am that hot."
"No, I've definitely seen him before," a gentleman with glasses states. "As unbelievable as it is, this is the genuine King of Wevendh... or, at least he was, until Chromore annexed it."
Your heart starts beating out of your chest. Already? But... you have to escape. Maybe if you just acquiese to the demands of the heir-
The doors of the train close and the train begins its journey to the next stop, and it's at that time that your own voice plays through. You groan, already remembering the shock of the collar when you tried resisting. In the end, electrocuted into submission, you let them record you. "Hello, and welcome to the Dragon Tamer Express. I am $fName and formerly King of Wevendh, but my role now is simply to serve all of you. I cannot disobey an order, so use me however you want."
"Oh?" The heir smirks cruelly. "Looks like we're going to have [[a lot of fun->FenborzBadEnd1-2]], you and I.""I said faster, slut," the heir hisses as you bounce up and down on his cock, arms behind your head. "I told you to give me a lap dance a few hours ago. This shouldn't be that hard."
"S-Sorry," you stutter out automatically, the buzz of your electric collar a looming warning. "It's just- I've been serving the other riders-"
The heir grabs your hips and slams you down. Even through the burn of your legs and the exhaustion in your body, the pressure on your prostate is too much for you to bear, and your cock spurts a few strings of white on the heir's shirt as he does so inside of you. Order completed, you finally extract yourself carefully and step down from the seat you'd been precariously perched on, and hobble away from him, the excuse you'd thought of already playing on your lips. "I-I will return with a towel to wipe you down with."
At first you thought you could charm your way into the heir's mind, and on some level you did, but he isn't the type to help. He takes and takes... as evidenced by the cum dribbling between your legs and onto the train's floor.
Not that the other passengers are any better. As the day goes on, more passengers board the train, eager for their own piece of you.
Despite the humiliation and degradation, you find yourself slowly becoming numb to it all. The rhythm of serving drinks and fulfilling sexual fantasies is, whether you like it or not, becoming your new reality. You lose track of how many passengers you serve, and with a little bit of alcohol in your system thanks to one passenger deciding to give you some while he fucks you, it starts becoming a blur.
The only real hope for release from this life is Fenborz finding pity on you. Until then, you'll continue serving the passengers on the train, unable to resist their demands or escape the humiliation that comes with it.
"Hey, slut! Where's my towel?" The heir yells from his cabin.
Or maybe... maybe you'll be completely broken before that happens.
''Game Over.''
(link:"Retry Chromore.")[goto:"ChromoreCapitalEnter"]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)](set:$fightState to true)
(set:$playerHealth to 2)
(set:$fenborzHealth to 12)
(set:$fenborzPhase to 1)
(set:$movementChoice to 0)
(set:$variationTrain to 0)
(set:$lastCarriage to "")
(goto:"FenborzCaboose")The carriage's antique interior would normally only a blur to you as you sprint, but the length of it impresses on the sides of your vision just as Fenborz does the same for the center. Mahogany and cherry paneling line the walls of this sleeper carriage, and were you not in a mad dash to beat the timer, you might have been huddling in one of these, taking cover.
With unwavering focus, Fenborz centers his aim down the narrow aisle, aligning the rifle's cold copper barrel with intent directly towards you. The sense of impending danger hangs heavy in the air as he locks onto his target-- you.
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Stand still.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Duck.")[(set:$movementChoice to 4)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Leap forward.")[(set:$movementChoice to 5)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(set:$attackLast to "Direct")In a sudden, unexpected maneuver, Fenborz swiftly disengages the telescopic long-range rifle from its stand, dropping down to the floor of the train with surprising agility. With an eerie calmness, he shoots. The deafening shot reverberates through the train's confined space, and a searing pain jolts through your lower body as the bullet strikes home. Fenborz, as quickly as he descended, smoothly returns the rifle to its stand. His mask conceals any trace of emotion, leaving you to grapple with the excruciating pain and the realization that the Ingeniator's calculated ruthlessness knows no bounds.
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Stand still.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Duck.")[(set:$movementChoice to 4)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(link:"Leap forward.")[(set:$movementChoice to 5)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
(set:$attackLast to "Direct")You are (either:"desperately chasing","running straight for","racing toward","letting your feet carry you closer to","giving your all to catch") Fenborz Hsuefte, the Ingeniator of Chromore.
{
(if:$lastCarriage is "Caboose")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
You hold your breath and jump to the left just as steam gushes out of the hole in the barrel. You land and, without breaking stride, continue running. The steam hits the wall behind you and its searing heat gives chase, but your jump gave you just enough distance to avoid it entirely. Smiling, you (link:"continue into the next carriage")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] untouched.]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to 1)(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
Scalding steam engulfs your right side as you jump even closer to the barrels than you were before. Gasping in pain, you stagger out of the steam's path, just as another ''//BANG//'' rings out. The projectile whizzes past you, right where your head was just a second ago. You dive for cover, holding your burnt side, and take the time to look at what he shot.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to 1)(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
Holding your breath, you try to give even more power to your legs. While your strides come faster, they don't come fast enough to outpace the steam, which comes gushing out right as you attempt to pass.<br><br>Gasping in pain, you stagger out of the steam's path, just as another ''//BANG//'' rings out. The projectile whizzes past you, right where your head was just a second ago. You dive for cover, holding your burnt side, and take the time to look at what he shot.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to 1)(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
The bottom crates collapse, and almost immediately, the crates stacked directly on top of them lurch to the side. Unfortunately, it's the side you chose. Wood crashes directly on you, and were they any heavier or thicker, you would've been pinned underneath them. While you're still mobile, the impact and shards of wood flying about still hurts- enough for you to stagger away.<br><br>''//BANG//''<br><br>The projectile whizzes past you, right where your head was just a second ago. You dive for cover, wincing at the small cuts on your body, and take the time to look at what he shot.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
With the bottom crates crumpling in on themselves, the crates stacked on top of tumble right through their restraints. You jump, and though the sound of wood crashing into the wall behind you is almost deafening, you find yourself entirely untouched, long outrunning any splinters headed your way. You don't break your stride as you (link:"run into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to 1) (set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
Hoping to make this a matter of speed, you direct even more power to your legs in order to carry you farther. However, you're just not quite fast enough. The collapse of the bottom crates drives all those previously stacked on top of them to rip through their restraints. While you can avoid some of those closest to the bottom, eventually, one of the fastest-moving ones from the top slams into you from behind.<br><br>You're sent hurtling to the left as another //''BANG''// rings out. You hit the floor, but push through the pain to get to cover. From there, you take the time to look at what he shot.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 3)[
(if:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
You drown out the ominous rumble with the thunderous sound of your boots hitting the floor with renewed energy and pace. Cases and their contents spill to the floor behind and all around you, but because Fenborz shot through their supports cleanly, they only ever thud to the floor right beneath them. Any that actually bounce into your way are easily avoided.<br><br>Fenborz hurriedly fans away the smoke from firing his rifle twice in quick succession, and before he can fully recover, you're (link:"running into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to 1)(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
Jumping to the right to avoid what Fenborz has in store, you instead jump right into the thick of it. Cases filled with tools fall as their supports do- all at once, so even trying to force your pace through only leads to your body being battered further. In fact, as you avoid the tools clattering to the floor, you're hit right in the shoulder by a full case.<br><br>You groan and fall to the floor just as a ''//BANG//'' rings out, Fenborz' projectile flying straight through where your head was just a second ago. Hissing in pain, you pull yourself up to dive behind the nearest cover. From there, you take the time to look at what he shot.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to 1)(set:$fenborzHealth to 11)
Jumping to the left to avoid what Fenborz planned for you, you're instead left with the consequences of your choice. Cases filled with tools fall as their supports do- all at once, so even trying to force your pace through only leads to your body being battered further. In fact, as you avoid the tools clattering to the floor, you're hit right in the shoulder by a full case.<br><br>You groan and fall to the floor just as a ''//BANG//'' rings out, Fenborz' projectile flying straight through where your head was just a second ago. Hissing in pain, you pull yourself up to dive behind the nearest cover. From there, you take the time to look at what he shot.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Kitchen")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 2)[
''//BANG.//'' Fenborz, his aim unwavering, fires with precision. As the projectile races toward you, you narrowly manage to evade it by taking cover behind the large, hissing steam machine you spotted earlier. The projectile strikes the side of the machine with a sharp thud, embedding into the thick metal plating. Fenborz' sigh crackles over the train's interphone, and you take the opportunity to [[dash into the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[
''//BANG.//'' Fenborz, his aim unwavering, fires his dart with precision. As the projectile races toward you, you narrowly manage to evade it by taking cover behind the large, hissing steam machine you spotted earlier. The dart strikes the side of the machine with a sharp thud, its metallic tip embedding into the thick metal plating. Fenborz' sigh crackles over the train's interphone, and you take the opportunity to [[dash into the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth -1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[In a split-second decision, you veer to the right, leaping onto the spotless countertops that line the kitchen carriage. Your feet deftly find purchase on the gleaming surfaces, and you skillfully navigate your way through the maze of pots, pans, and other culinary implements, avoiding the delicate machinery beneath without breaking your stride.<br><br>However, as you make your daring escape along the countertops, Fenborz's aim remains true. With a //''BANG''// and a well-timed shot, he manages to land a direct hit on you. The dart pierces through your clothing and into your stomach, delivering a sharp and painful sting. Your vision darkens around the edges immediately.<br><br>By the time you can even think of a way to remove the dart, the darkness [[swallows you completely.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)In a split-second decision, you veer to the right, leaping onto the spotless countertops that line the kitchen carriage. Your feet deftly find purchase on the gleaming surfaces, and you skillfully navigate your way through the maze of pots, pans, and other culinary implements, avoiding the delicate machinery beneath without breaking your stride. At least, that's what happens until you stumble over a sudden gap between the counters and you lurch to the left.<br><br>//''BANG''//<br><br>As you fall, you watch as Fenborz' projectile soars through the air, right where your head was just a few seconds ago. You hit the ground with a painful //thud,// but push yourself to cover, where you can properly see what he shot at you.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You take a deep breath and let the aroma of the food energize you once more before clearing the rest of the carriage and [[dash into the next.->DiningCarriage]]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth -1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[A thought races through your mind- why decide now when Fenborz hasn't even fired his weapon? Confident that you can simply make that decision again later, you not only keep up your pace, but speed up. Since the middle aisle is clear, aside from a few tufts of smoke or vapor, you're not slowed down by anything. Still, Fenborz refuses to do anything.<br><br>It's only when you're a few steps away from the next carriage that a shot rings out with a //''BANG.''// Caught with the decision on your mind and in the middle of the doorway, you're far too slow to react.<br><br>The dart pierces through your clothing and into your stomach, delivering a sharp and painful sting. Your vision darkens around the edges immediately.<br><br>By the time you can even think of a way to remove the dart, the darkness [[swallows you completely.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)A thought races through your mind- why decide now when Fenborz hasn't even fired his weapon? Confident that you can simply make that decision again later, you not only keep up your pace, but speed up. Since the middle aisle is clear, aside from a few tufts of smoke or vapor, you're not slowed down by anything. Still, Fenborz refuses to do anything.<br><br>It's only when you're a few steps away from the next carriage that a shot rings out with a //''BANG.''// The sound surprises you so much that you stumble over your own feet, and you fall in a heap on the ground. You try to rise despite yourself, and you can feel the projectile going right through your hair.<br><br>You crawl backward quickly, hiding yourself behind the wall on the side of the door. From here, you examine the projectile in relative safety. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You stand up slowly and take a deep breath, letting the aroma of food reenergize you. Then, you [[enter the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]] running.]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[
With the dart having taken on wicked speed, you make the decision to jump left. Regardless of the angle it comes at, it shouldn't be able to hit you if you huddle into the space behind the machine you spotted earlier. While you're correct with that assumption, you miscalculate just how fast the dart is going.<br><br>The dart hits the right wall with a high-pitched //ting//. It bounces off and, with a loud whirr, sinks deep into your side. The pain darkens your vision, and when you hit the floor behind the machine you were looking to hide behind, [[you lose consciousness completely.->FenborzBadEnd2]]
]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
With the projectile having taken on wicked speed, you make the decision to jump left. Regardless of the angle it comes at, it shouldn't be able to hit you if you huddle into the space behind the machine you spotted earlier. While you're correct with that assumption, you miscalculate just where you need to put your footing. <br><brb>The projectile hits the right wall with a high-pitched //ting//. It bounces off and, with a loud whirr, it flies right over your head as you stumble and fall forward. You untangle yourself from the heap your clumsy steps put you in, and spring forward past the machine you were looking to hide behind, to cover much closer to the entrance of the other carriage.<br><br>While falling was misfortunate, you can take a moment to see what you were fortunate enough not to be hit by. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You take a deep breath, letting the scent of cooking food ground you once more, before bolting out and [[into the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 2)[Tracing the projectile's flight path clearly in your mind, you fling yourself to the right without any forward force. You're confident enough that you even take your eyes off the projectile and focus on landing on your feet properly. Your confidence is rewarded, as the projectile bounces off the right, then the left wall, then disappears into the carriage behind.<br><br>Because you focused on how you landed, you start running almost as if you hadn't stopped to begin with, bolting down the rest of the carriage. You [[enter the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]], leaving the alluring scent of cooking food far behind you.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[Tracing the dart's flight path clearly in your mind, you fling yourself to the right without any forward force. You're confident enough that you even take your eyes off the dart and focus on landing on your feet properly. Your confidence is rewarded, as the dart bounces off the right, whooshes past you, and then clatters to the floor as it finally fails to ricochet off the left.<br><br>Because you focused on how you landed, you start running almost as if you hadn't stopped to begin with, bolting down the rest of the carriage. You [[enter the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]], leaving the alluring scent of cooking food far behind you.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[There's a gap in the middle of the pattern that you can run through. As long as you keep heading forward, you should be fine... that's what you think, at least, as you keep going forward. In reality, the dart's angle has grown steadily more horizontal as it traversed the carriages, and that moment's hesitation is all that it needs to sink directly into your side.<br><br>The pain is immediate, but what's even more so is the darkness clouding your vision. You blink, intending to clear it, but only succeed in [[succumbing->FenborzBadEnd2]] to it.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)There's a gap in the middle of the pattern that you can run through. As long as you keep heading forward, you should be fine... that's what you think, at least, as you keep going forward. In reality, the projectile's angle has grown steadily more horizontal as it traversed the carriages. The sudden thought stops you right in your tracks, and that sheer stop is what ends up saving you.<br><br>The projectile whooshes right past you, so close that if you had even breathed, it might have grazed you. It clatters to a stop after it fails to ricochet off the left wall and, after getting behind some actual cover, you examine it in further detail.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You take a deep breath, letting the scent of cooking food ground you once more, before bolting out and [[into the next carriage.->DiningCarriage]]]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Dining")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[//''BANG.''//<br><br>Taking that as your cue to jump, the sound of chains rattling is all the warning you get before you launch yourself right into solid metal. The wind is utterly knocked out of you, and you're sure you've broken a rib as you're launched into the center aisle. One eye squeezed shut from the pain, you realize what happened.<br><br>Fenborz shot through the set of chains supporting the outer edge of the fixture you spotted earlier, and it swung down in one piece like a metal wall. The remaining chains strain and creak before finally giving way, completely crushing the table beneath. As you struggle to get up, you hear it-<br><br>//''BANG.''// You try to dodge, but your rib explodes with pain. The dart sinks into your shoulder with a sharp sting. It isn't long at all before you slump back, [[completely unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)//''BANG.''//<br><br>The noise comes much faster than you thought it would, and the jolt of surprise is enough to unbalance you entirely. You slip on the dining cloth and tumble onto the center aisle just as you hear the rattling of chains. You watch, dumbfounded, as the fixture swings as if on a hinge. If you hadn't fallen, you'd have jumped right into what is essentially a metal wall.<br><br>The creaking of chains reminds you of your imminent danger, and you quickly scurry forward and to the right, where you find much more solid cover. You look behind you, and watch as the remaining chains fail and the fixture obliterates the tables beneath it.<br><br>You try not to think of being crushed underneath as you turn your attention to the projectile, now laying on the floor near the crushed tables. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming even as it lays spent on the floor. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. With that in mind, you leave the opulent carriage behind and resolve to do better in (link:"the next.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
//''BANG.''//<br><br>Taking that as your cue to jump, the sound of chains rattling accompanies the thud of your boots over carpet. You run confidently, watching almost nonchalantly as the metal fixture that once hung from the ceiling swings over the tables you were just running on. Glancing upwards, you confirm what you already knew; Fenborz had shot through the chains on the outer side.<br><br>The chains strain and creak, and with a loud crash the fixture crushes the entire left row underneath. You leave it all behind, completely untouched other than the slight reverberations in your footsteps, and (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[ //''BANG.''//<br><br>You're so bitterly close to the end of the row of the tables that you just sally forth, trying to make it across before whatever Fenborz has done can actually affect you. Unfortunately, the rattling of chains signals the end to that plan.<br><br>You notice all too late the fixture swinging toward you, and although you brace yourself, you're still utterly stunned by the metal that crashes into your side. You tumble painfully onto the center aisle, the wind knocked out of you. While trying to recover, you can see exactly what happened.<br><br>Fenborz shot through the set of chains supporting the outer edge of the fixture you spotted earlier, and it swung down in one piece like a metal wall. The remaining chains strain and creak before finally giving way, completely crushing the table beneath. As you struggle to get up, you hear it-<br><br>//''BANG.''// You try to dodge, but your body is just too sluggish from the impact. The dart sinks into your shoulder with a sharp sting. It isn't long at all before you slump back, [[completely unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1) //''BANG.''//<br><br>You're so bitterly close to the end of the row of the tables that you just sally forth, trying to make it across before whatever Fenborz has done can actually affect you. Unfortunately, the rattling of chains signals the end to that plan.<br><br>You look down to see if there's any chains tangled on your foot, and that moment's hesitation has you slipping and tumbling from the table. You're too hopped up on adrenaline to wallow in embarrassment, so you pick yourself up from the floor of the center aisle and get to cover just in time to see the fixture that was on the ceiling swinging forward like a metal wall.<br><br>The creaking of chains reminds you of your imminent danger, and you quickly scurry forward and to the right, where you find much more solid cover. You look behind you, and watch as the remaining chains fail and the fixture obliterates the tables beneath it.<br><br>You try not to think of being crushed underneath as you turn your attention to the projectile, now laying on the floor near the crushed tables. t's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming even as it lays spent on the floor. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. With that in mind, you leave the opulent carriage behind and resolve to do better in (link:"the next.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Using the //''BANG''// of Fenborz' shot as your signal, you jump off the table and onto the central aisle. Surely he isn't anticipating for you to run headlong after him instead of to the right, where you're harder to hit. You watch as the dart zooms through the carriage to the right, just as you predicted.<br><br>You're not the target, however.<br><br>The dart manages to pierce through the entire line of wicker cabinets almost entirely unhindered and through the wares inside. The impact sends the fragile dishes and glasses shattering into a cloud of dust and storm of shards. The acrid scent of broken porcelain hits you first, but it's the shooting pain of shards digging into your ankles that forces you to stop running. While the shards couldn't move vertically thanks to the tops of the cabinets, they shot out violently horizontally, to the point where they could even travel underneath the table.<br><br>With your feet in such bad shape, it's difficult enough to walk, let alone react when another //''BANG''// rips through the air. The dart swiftly flies into your right leg, and the edges of your vision thrum with pain and darkness. Your feet loses strength before your mind does, and the last thing you remember is the [[ground swiftly rising to meet you.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Using the //''BANG''// of Fenborz' shot as your signal, you jump off the table and onto the central aisle. Surely he isn't anticipating for you to run headlong after him instead of to the right, where you're harder to hit. You watch as the dart zooms through the carriage to the right, just as you predicted.<br><br>You're not the target, however.<br><br>That's when your hip hits the left row of tables, and you're sent stumbling uncontrollably forward. With the ground leaving you and your hands blindly reaching for something, anything to hold on, you end up tumbling right onto the table. You steady yourself before you can fall off just as the acrid scent of broken porcelain hits you.<br><br>The embarrassment stinging worse than any of the utensils or plates you rolled over, you realize that the floor is absolutely littered with shards. Some of the shards have even made it to your row of tables. You next watch the carnage that is the busted-up row of cabinets and plates that Fenborz shot through, and you rush off the table to find cover.<br><br>Once behind some, you observe where the projectile landed. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming even as it lays spent on the floor. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. With that in mind, you leave the opulent carriage behind and resolve to do better in (link:"the next.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Using the //''BANG''// of Fenborz' shot as your signal, you jump off the table and onto the right side. If Fenborz aimed at you on the tables, you'd avoid him either way, but the left side was the far freer option of the two. You could maneuver onto the left row of tables, for instance. It's one big gambit: expecting him to make the two most logical choices, not the third.<br><br>The dart starts flying toward you, but you're resolute on your gambit, especially when you realize the shot is wide. The dart goes along the trajectory you traced, and it's nowhere near you. It's then that you see where it's actually going- right through the side of the wicker cabinets and shattering all the plates and glass inside.<br><br>You plan to jump away, but the acrid scent of porcelain followed by a cloud of dust and shards hits you, and you're utterly stunned. The shards ravage your legs, the pain and confusion rocking your body so intensely that you don't even hear the second //''BANG''// before it's too late. When you feel a sharp pain in your abdomen, you expect to feel a shard, but what you feel is a slimy dart that sizzles on your fingertips. [[You lose consciousness immediately.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Using the //''BANG''// of Fenborz' shot as your signal, you prepare to jump off the table and onto the right side. If Fenborz aimed at you on the tables, you'd avoid him either way, but the left side was the far freer option of the two. You could maneuver onto the left row of tables, for instance. It's one big gambit: expecting him to make the two most logical choices, not the third.<br><br>It's exactly then that your foot snags on a small gap between two tables, and you crash quickly and painfully onto the wood, dishes, and cutlery. Thankfully, due to the billowy and tough nature of your robe, you aren't impaled on anything.<br><br>You raise your head to see where the dart is going just as it pierces through the side of the wicker cabinets, shattering everything in its path. You duck and cower, but you soon realize that none of the shards are actually rising very much at all. The ones that shoot upwards get stuck in the wicker tops, but the ones that shoot to the side aren't hindered and thus shoot quite far.<br><br>Of course, the mechanics of how it happens are besides the point. You're in imminent danger of being shot, so you run on the tables for some time more before leaping behind cover. Once there, you observe where the projectile landed. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming even as it lays spent on the floor. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. With that in mind, you leave the opulent carriage behind and resolve to do better in (link:"the next.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[You're tempted to jump off at the //''BANG''//, but you stay resolutely on your path because of the detail you noticed earlier. You're dashing down a row of tables, meaning you're much higher than ground level. And yet, instead of aiming up, Fenborz pointed his rifle down. It's a scheme.<br><br>You watch the dart as it enters your carriage, and just as you expected, it misses you by a wide berth. However, it hits its true target with striking precision- the row of cabinets. As it pierces through the wicker side you briefly feel the need to outrun it, but the cabinets line nearly the whole carriage. Rather, you brace yourself as the plates and glass inside shatter violently.<br><br>The acrid scent of porcelain and a cloud of dust hits you, but nothing else does. Emerging from the cloud quickly due to your stride, you realize what happened. Because the cabinets are topped, many of the shards going upwards simply got stuck there. The open facing of the cabinets meant that the shards had free rein to travel horizontally.<br><br>That's neither here nor there, though, and neither are you; you're too busy (link:"running into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[You're tempted to jump off at the //''BANG''//, but you stay resolutely on your path because of the detail you noticed earlier. You're dashing down a row of tables, meaning you're much higher than ground level. And yet, instead of aiming up, Fenborz pointed his rifle down. It's a scheme.<br><br>You watch the projectile as it enters your carriage, and just as you expected, it misses you by a wide berth. However, it hits its true target with striking precision- the row of cabinets. As it pierces through the wicker side you briefly feel the need to outrun it, but the cabinets line nearly the whole carriage. Rather, you brace yourself as the plates and glass inside shatter violently.<br><br>The acrid scent of porcelain and a cloud of dust hits you, but nothing else does. Emerging from the cloud quickly due to your stride, you realize what happened. Because the cabinets are topped, many of the shards going upwards simply got stuck there. The open facing of the cabinets meant that the shards had free rein to travel horizontally.<br><br>That's neither here nor there, though, and neither are you; you're too busy (link:"running into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Observation")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump. Soon afterward, it's the sting of the very same shards that you feel all over your body as they shred through your traveling garb. As soon as you land, you stop and huddle down to avoid getting your eyes gouged out.<br><br>Unfortunately, that's all the time that Fenborz needs. While the glass is still pelting on your back, you hear another //''BANG.''// You can't even lift your head to ascertain where it's coming from, so you move blindly, only to slam into the wall.<br><br>A sharp sting goes through your shoulder, and you open your eyes to see that they'd already been clouded over by darkness. [[You fall unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump, and the sound makes you panic. Instead of landing neatly, you lose your footing and tumble all the way to the wall, knocking several telescopes on you at once.<br><br>This turns out to be a blessing in disguise, as they absorb the brunt of the glass raining down from the ceiling. While your do have cuts get cuts and bruises on your back, they're not nearly serious enough to stop you. As soon as the tinkle of glass fades, you throw the telescopes off you and dash for the end of the carriage. Once you're pressed into the corner and impossible to shoot, you take the time to see what he shot at you.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You leave the shredded carriage behind and dash (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump. Still, you keep well to the left, where the //tink// of the shards isn't all around you, but rather, on top. The metal veranda caught all of the glass on the side you chose, so although everything to the right of you is getting shredded, you run forward, only having to be mindful of the telescopes in your way. Before you know it, (link:"you're entering the next car.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump. Still, you keep well to the left, where the //tink// of the shards isn't all around you, but rather, on top. The metal veranda caught all of the glass on the side you chose, so although everything to the right of you is getting shredded, you run forward, only having to be mindful of the telescopes in your way. Before you know it, (link:"you're entering the next car.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[With nothing to hide behind, you throw caution to the wind and bolt straight down the center. You make an impressive distance and, if you were on any other train, you'd have made it. However, the long carriages work against you, and the tinkling of shattered glass is on you.<br><br>Even with shards raining down on you, shredding your cloak and any body parts you have exposed, you press on. However, when a shard very nearly flies right into your eye and instead slices your cheek, you're forced to huddle down and let the shards rain down on your back.<br><br>Unfortunately, that's all the time that Fenborz needs. While the glass is still pelting down on you, you hear another //''BANG.''// You can't even lift your head to ascertain where it's coming from, so you move blindly, but your position makes any attempts to move slow and awkward.<br><br>A sharp sting goes through your shoulder, and you open your eyes to see that they'd already been clouded over by darkness. [[You fall unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)With nothing to hide behind, you throw caution to the wind and bolt straight down the center. You make an impressive distance and, if you were on any other train, you'd have made it. The realization distracts you from your footing, and you take a nasty tumble all the way to the left wall.<br><br>You hear the countless tinkling of glass shards as they shred through everything beneath them, and you brace yourself. However, none of them touch you. Looking upward and hearing the metal clanging, you realize you ended up underneath the veranda, avoiding the storm of shards.<br><br>You snap yourself out of your daze and make a wild run for the end of the carriage's corner, where you can finally breathe easy and figure out what exactly he's shooting at you. <br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You leave the shredded carriage behind and dash (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump. Still, you keep well to the right, where the //tink// of the shards isn't all around you, but rather, on top. The metal veranda caught all of the glass on the side you chose, so although everything to the left of you is getting shredded, you run forward, only having to be mindful of the telescopes in your way. Before you know it, (link:"you're entering the next car.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump. Still, you keep well to the left, where the //tink// of the shards isn't all around you, but rather, on top. The metal veranda caught all of the glass on the side you chose, so although everything to the right of you is getting shredded, you run forward, only having to be mindful of the telescopes in your way. Before you know it, (link:"you're entering the next car.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump. Soon afterward, it's the sting of the very same shards that you feel all over your body as they shred through your traveling garb. As soon as you land, you stop and huddle down to avoid getting your eyes gouged out.<br><br>Unfortunately, that's all the time that Fenborz needs. While the glass is still pelting on your back, you hear another //''BANG.''// You can't even lift your head to ascertain where it's coming from, so you move blindly, only to slam into the wall.<br><br>A sharp sting goes through your shoulder, and you open your eyes to see that they'd already been clouded over by darkness. [[You fall unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The sound of shattering glass accompanies your jump, and the sound makes you panic. Instead of landing neatly, you lose your footing and tumble all the way to the wall, knocking several telescopes on you at once.<br><br>This turns out to be a blessing in disguise, as they absorb the brunt of the glass raining down from the ceiling. While your do have cuts get cuts and bruises on your back, they're not nearly serious enough to stop you. As soon as the tinkle of glass fades, you throw the telescopes off you and dash for the end of the carriage. Once you're pressed into the corner and impossible to shoot, you take the time to see what he shot at you.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Gritting your teeth, you sprint the rest of the way through the caboose and (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[With nothing to hide behind, you throw caution to the wind and bolt straight down the center. You make an impressive distance and, if you were on any other train, you'd have made it. However, the long carriages work against you, and the tinkling of shattered glass is on you.<br><br>Even with shards raining down on you, shredding your cloak and any body parts you have exposed, you press on. However, when a shard very nearly flies right into your eye and instead slices your cheek, you're forced to huddle down and let the shards rain down on your back.<br><br>Unfortunately, that's all the time that Fenborz needs. While the glass is still pelting down on you, you hear another //''BANG.''// You can't even lift your head to ascertain where it's coming from, so you move blindly, but your position makes any attempts to move slow and awkward.<br><br>A sharp sting goes through your shoulder, and you open your eyes to see that they'd already been clouded over by darkness. [[You fall unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)With nothing to hide behind, you throw caution to the wind and bolt straight down the center. You make an impressive distance and, if you were on any other train, you'd have made it. The realization distracts you from your footing, and you take a nasty tumble all the way to the right wall.<br><br>You hear the countless tinkling of glass shards as they shred through everything beneath them, and you brace yourself. However, none of them touch you. Looking upward and hearing the metal clanging, you realize you ended up underneath the veranda, avoiding the storm of shards.<br><br>You snap yourself out of your daze and make a wild run for the end of the carriage's corner, where you can finally breathe easy and figure out what exactly he's shooting at you. <br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the wall where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You leave the shredded carriage behind and dash (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Botanical")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The dart flies right over your head as you make your way to the right, figuring that you can take Fenborz by surprise by jumping over the stream instead of going through the one obvious access point. You hear a //thunk// from above you and, when you look up, you very nearly get water in your eyes. The pipes are gushing with water, drenching the botanical carriage quickly.<br><br>You soldier on, determined to make your way through the muddying path, and make it all the way to the base of the stream. You prepare to jump, but, the muddy ground here especially proves treacherous. With each step, your boots sink deeper into the muck, making it impossible to maintain your momentum. Struggling to free yourself from the clinging mud, you stumble and fall just a few feet from the stream, thoroughly soaked and vulnerable.<br><br>It's no surprise when the next //''BANG''// rings out, and a stabbing pain goes through your shoulder. You [[collapse there->FenborzBadEnd2]], letting the mud take you.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The dart flies right over your head as you make your way to the right, figuring that you can take Fenborz by surprise by jumping over the stream instead of going through the one obvious access point. You hear a //thunk// from above you and, when you look up, you get a torrent of water shooting straight into your eyes.<br><br>Stumbling blindly, you eventually open your eyes and see that you've wandered back onto the main path. With Fenborz unable to shoot and the sides getting progressively muddier, you have no choice but to continue on the main path. Crossing the bridge and rushing all the way to the doorway, you dart to the side to observe what exactly caused the piping to drench you.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the pipes, jostling slightly as water rushes past it. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Shaking off the mud and water as best as you can, you (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The dart flies right over your head as you make your way to the left, figuring that you can take Fenborz by surprise by jumping over the stream instead of going through the one obvious access point. You hear a //thunk// from above you and, when you look up, you very nearly get water in your eyes. The pipes are gushing with water, drenching the botanical carriage quickly.<br><br>You soldier on, determined to make your way through the muddying path, and make it all the way to the base of the stream. You prepare to jump, but, the muddy ground here especially proves treacherous. With each step, your boots sink deeper into the muck, making it impossible to maintain your momentum. Struggling to free yourself from the clinging mud, you stumble and fall just a few feet from the stream, thoroughly soaked and vulnerable.<br><br>It's no surprise when the next //''BANG''// rings out, and a stabbing pain goes through your shoulder. You [[collapse there->FenborzBadEnd2]], letting the mud take you.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The dart flies right over your head as you make your way to the left, figuring that you can take Fenborz by surprise by jumping over the stream instead of going through the one obvious access point. You hear a //thunk// from above you, and, when you look up, you get a torrent of water shooting straight into your eyes.<br><br>Stumbling blindly, you eventually open your eyes and see that you've wandered back onto the main path. With Fenborz unable to shoot and the sides getting progressively muddier, you have no choice but to continue on the main path. Crossing the bridge and rushing all the way to the doorway, you dart to the side to observe what exactly caused the piping to drench you.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the pipes, jostling slightly as water rushes past it. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Shaking off the mud and water as best as you can, you (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[Fenborz' dart flies high and pierces the ceiling pipes. Water gushes out, instantly drenching the botanical carriage. The dirt on the sides quickly turns to mud, but as you stay in the center, your path remains mostly solid. Ignoring the muddy chaos around you, you charge straight ahead, determined to cross the bridge.<br><br>The deluge wets your clothing and adds a layer of discomfort to your escape, but at least you're not stuck in the mud. You manage to leap onto the bridge and cross it with little difficulty, letting you tear down the remainder of the carriage. The water-soaked surroundings fade into the distance as you continue your desperate sprint (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[Fenborz' projectile flies high and pierces the ceiling pipes. Water gushes out, instantly drenching the botanical carriage. The dirt on the sides quickly turns to mud, but as you stay in the center, your path remains mostly solid. Ignoring the muddy chaos around you, you charge straight ahead, determined to cross the bridge.<br><br>The deluge wets your clothing and adds a layer of discomfort to your escape, but at least you're not stuck in the mud. You manage to leap onto the bridge and cross it with little difficulty, letting you tear down the remainder of the carriage. The water-soaked surroundings fade into the distance as you continue your desperate sprint (link:"into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Another //''BANG''// rocks the carriage, sending the animals further down their panicked run. Ignoring the sound, you make your way through to the left, weaving through plantlife and scared animals as you do so. You emerge just as the bridge collapses, and you prepare to jump.<br><br>However, the sloshing river doesn't wait for you. It carries big chunks of wood- in fact, entire sections of the bridge, bobbing up and down, right into your path. With the time ticking down, you have no choice but to risk it. You soar into the air, and for a good moment, you think you're actually going to clear it.<br><br>Then the wood bobs up just a hair more, and your foot catches, sending you hurtling badly into the very edge of the river. Although you're able to hold on and claw your way up to the bank, your garb is caked in mud. It slows you down significantly when a third //''BANG ''// rings out, and does nothing to stop the dart from hitting you right in the chest.<br><br>The only thing you can do is fall forward as [[you pass out->FenborzBadEnd2]] to make sure that, although you're defeated, you aren't drowned.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Another //''BANG''// rocks the carriage, sending the animals further down their panicked run. Ignoring the sound, you make your way through to the left, weaving through plantlife. You aren't so successful weaving around the animals, however. The bigger animals would be dangerous in any situation, but even the small rabbits and butterflies could take out your leg if you're not careful.<br><br>You get so turned around by avoiding them that you find yourself back on the main path, just in time to see the support posts giving way and the bridge crashing noisily into the water.<br><br>With nothing to do but go forward, you take a deep breath and jump the gap where the bridge previously ran over. Sticking the landing, you make a mad dash to the end of the carriage before jumping to the side so you can take a look at what Fenborz fired at you.<br><br>One of the projectiles is gone, probably swept up into the river, but you can see the other one embedded in the remains of the support post. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the splintered post. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Shaking off the nerves as best as you can, you (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[Another //''BANG''// rocks the carriage, sending the animals further down their panicked run. Ignoring the sound, you make your way through to the right, weaving through plantlife and scared animals as you do so. You emerge just as the bridge collapses, and you prepare to jump.<br><br>You do neatly and gracefully, and glimpse what happened on the other side. Entire sections of bridge are bobbing up and down, carried by the current of the river. Well, that's why you chose to go upstream rather than down it.<br><br>Completely unharmed, (link:"you make your way into the next carriage")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] just as the animals calm down and return to routine behind you.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[Another //''BANG''// rocks the carriage, sending the animals further down their panicked run. Ignoring the sound, you make your way through to the right, weaving through plantlife and scared animals as you do so. You emerge just as the bridge collapses, and you prepare to jump.<br><br>You do neatly and gracefully, and glimpse what happened on the other side. Entire sections of bridge are bobbing up and down, carried by the current of the river. Well, that's why you chose to go upstream rather than down it.<br><br>Completely unharmed, (link:"you make your way into the next carriage")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] just as the animals calm down and return to routine behind you.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Another //''BANG''// rocks the carriage, sending the animals further down their panicked run. Shooting for the path of least resistance, you head straight for the bridge. It isn't long at all before you leave the dirt path and take your first step on wood.<br><br>Unfortunately, it seems that Fenborz had the very same idea. With the darts flying directly toward you, you brace to pull off a wicked dodge at the last second. However, it's the darts that end up twisting out of the way, as they careen into the supports of the bridge.<br><br>The wood wobbles beneath you, tilting toward the right. For a split second you think you can make it, but the second dart hits the support with a //thunk.// The bridge collapses, and you're dunked into the water, jostled around by the current and wood alike.<br><br>By the time you pull yourself out and onto the banks, you're exhausted. You simply don't have the energy to react to the third //''BANG''//, and the dart stabs into your shoulder with precision. [[You fall unconscious->FenborzBadEnd2]] after just one blink.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Another //''BANG''// rocks the carriage, sending the animals further down their panicked run. Shooting for the path of least resistance, you head straight for the bridge. It isn't long at all before you leave the dirt path and take your first step on wood.<br><br>Unfortunately, the bridge isn't as perfectly aligned as you think. You gasp as your foot is caught in the gaps between the planks, and you make a wild step with your other to correct it. While you manage it, you still mess up your balance entirely, falling backward in a clumsy heap.<br><br>The sound of wood and water catches your attention, and you lift your head only to see that the bridge had entirely collapsed. If you hadn't had this opportune fall, you would've been dunked.<br><br>Picking yourself up, you take a deep breath and jump the gap where the bridge previously ran over. Sticking the landing, you make a mad dash to the end of the carriage before jumping to the side so you can take a look at what Fenborz fired at you.<br><br>One of the projectiles is gone, probably swept up into the river, but you can see the other one embedded in the remains of the support post. It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it sticks out of the splintered post. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Shaking off the nerves as best as you can, you (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Library")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[Deciding that the path with the most stability is the safest, you head to the left. Practically walled in by the towering bookshelves, you can only glimpse what's happening elsewhere from the small gaps between them as you run.<br><br>The sight of the mana-electricity converter exploding in brilliant blue halts your steps, and for a moment, you think that the bookshelves are going to fall straight on you due to the violent force. However, the supports hold even as they groan. You pick up your pace once more, and when you emerge, you briefly look at the backs of the bookshelves. They're scorched, but still standing strong. Smiling, (link:"you run into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[Deciding that the path with the most stability is the safest, you head to the left. Practically walled in by the towering bookshelves, you can only glimpse what's happening elsewhere from the small gaps between them as you run.<br><br>The sight of the mana-electricity converter exploding in brilliant blue halts your steps, and for a moment, you think that the bookshelves are going to fall straight on you due to the violent force. However, the supports hold even as they groan. You pick up your pace once more, and when you emerge, you briefly look at the backs of the bookshelves. They're scorched, but still standing strong. Smiling, (link:"you run into the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Deciding that the path with the most furniture might offer you cover and dodging potential alike, you head to the right. Using the chairs as handholds, you launch yourself forward gracefully. Unfortunately, Fenborz responds to your plan in a way that doesn't offer you either advantage.<br><br>The dart hits the mana-electricity converter with a small //tink//, contrasting with the ear-hurting //''BOOM''// it lets out as it explodes. You're well away from the blast radius itself, but you're right in the furniture-flinging zone. A veritable wall of armchairs, some whole, some half-disintegrated, smacks into you.<br><br>You groan as you hit the wall, and wheeze when the furniture joins you, crushing you for good measure. You only barely manage to drag yourself out of the heap, but bruised and battered as you are, you can't react to the next //''BANG''// at all.<br><br>You don't even feel the dart sinking into your shoulder. You fell unconscious before the dart even hit you. [[Darkness claims you.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Deciding that the path with the most furniture might offer you cover and dodging potential alike, you head to the right. However, when you try to jump the first chair, you miscalculate and smack your lower body into it. Hissing with pain, you run back, not only in case Fenborz fires a second shot, but so you can try again.<br><br>The ''//BOOM//'' you turn around to see shutters that plan entirely, as the explosion turns your chosen path firstly into a storm of flying furniture, and then into an impassable field of singed, half-smashed chairs, fabric, and brass. Looking out to the center, att first you think it's by some miracle that the train doesn't have a gaping hole where the converter was, but the exposed gutting shows reinforced plating underneath.<br><br>With the decision made for you, you move to the left, the only path left relatively unscathed, and run all the way to the end of the carriage. It's only then that you look behind you, trying to find the projectile Fenborz launched. Fortunately, you see it in the debris.<br><br>It's a half-melted, wicked-looking dart, its long needle still gleaming despite its heavy scorching. The prongs on its back are heavily burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window, not only because of its heat, but because it's encased in a purple crust.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Leaving the two-story carriage behind you, (link:"you enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Deciding that the path with the most flexibility is the best option, you run headlong in the hopes that you can avoid whatever Fenborz is planning. After all, you have a ton of space to maneuver.<br><br>Your plan probably would've worked had there not been a mana-electricity converter right in Fenborz' line of sight, and although you jump away from the worst of the resulting explosion, you're tossed into a bookshelf sideways. The suddenness, both of the pain and vertigo, has you groaning as you struggle to stand up.<br><br>In the middle of that struggle you hear another //''BANG''//, and it occurs to you, somewhere deep in your mind, that you should dodge. Your sluggish brain and body fail to do so, and a sharp pain stabs through your shoulder. You only have time to vaguely see the outline of the dart sticking out of it before [[you fall completely unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Deciding that the path with the most flexibility is the best option, you run headlong in the hopes that you can avoid whatever Fenborz is planning. After all, you have a ton of space to maneuver. Your plan is put to a sudden and unexpected hold when your foot catches on the edge of a rug. The rest of your body is all too happy to continue, crashing spectacularly into the floor.<br><br>From the floor, you look up at the rest of the carriage- or, more accurately, the bright blue explosion enveloping the center. The broken mana-electricity converter disintegrates the furniture around it, flinging scorched remnants of those in the outer parts of its radius. At first you think it's by some miracle that the train doesn't have a gaping hole where the converter was, but the exposed gutting shows reinforced plating underneath.<br><br>Still, you're not eager to test how solid that flooring is, nor scorch the bottom of your shoes. You move to the left, the path left relatively unscathed, and run all the way to the end of the carriage. It's only then that you look behind you, trying to find the projectile he launched. Fortunately, you see it in the debris.<br><br>It's a half-melted, wicked-looking dart, its long needle still gleaming despite its heavy scorching. The prongs on its back are heavily burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window, not only because of its heat, but because it's encased in a purple crust.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Leaving the two-story carriage behind you, (link:"you enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Another //''BANG''// rings out, but you don't let that sway your thinking. Deciding that the path with the most stability is the safest, you head to the left. Practically walled in by the towering bookshelves, you can only glimpse what's happening elsewhere from the small gaps between them as you run.<br><br>While the bookshelves could easily protect you from outside threats, it provides the exact opposite effect when the dart flies high, piercing through the chandelier's chains without stopping. One by one, the chandeliers fall. Completely cornered, you try your best to dodge. You maneuver around the metal arms and chains threatening to ensnare you, but you just don't have enough room to completely avoid the shards of glass.<br><br>A big, nasty shard embeds itself in your leg. Although you remain standing, biting through the pain, you can't run whatsoever. You give a cursory movement at the next //''BANG''//, but you know already that you can't avoid it. It hits your stomach, and [[you black out near-instantly.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Another //''BANG''// rings out, but you don't let that sway your thinking. Deciding that the path with the most stability is the safest, you start heading left, only to slam facefirst into the side of a bookshelf, the sturdy construction and thick wood making it worse than any other.<br><br>You'll admit that looking toward the rest of the carriage while running the other way wasn't such a good idea, but you still have a chosen path to go down. You bounce on your heels, preparing to run again, when you hear the distinct sound of metal breaking. You watch as the chandelier on the other end crashes to the floor, its chain further breaking and spreading glass as it does so.<br><br>Suddenly remembering the chandelier hanging right above you, you dive to the right. Now in the middle, you hear the sound of metal and glass all around you. Looking over to the opposite path and its own storm of glass, chains, and metal arms, you realize that that's where the other projectile went. It finally loses its momentum, tumbling to the ground in front of you.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it lays on the floor where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot.<br><br>With no other path but forward, you spring over and past the untouched armchairs of the center, finally making it to (link:"the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Another //''BANG''// rings out, but you don't let that sway your thinking. Deciding that the path with a good mix of cover and dodging potential is the best, you head to the right. You weave through the furniture gracefully, trying to clear it as fast as possible.<br><br>Unfortunately, the dart is faster. You hear it before you see it, being far too distracted with the armchairs and the tables you're leaping over. It's only too late that you realize it's the sound of glass shattering- not just a cursory break, but the loud smash of chandeliers without their supports.<br><br>You hastily try to turn your forward momentum to the side, but you slow down considerably in the process. Gritting your teeth, you leap just as the chandelier above you crashes down on your position. For a second you think you've gotten off scot-free, untouched by the metal arms or the spray of glass, but the chain hits you square in the back.<br><br>You tumble to the floor, the blow having robbed you of your breath. You wheeze as you stand up, and through your ringing ears, you can hear the distinctive sound of another //''BANG''//. But when you try to jump, your back explodes with pain. You only feel the dart sinking into your back for a moment- after that, [[you black out.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Another //''BANG''// rings out, but you don't let that sway your thinking. Deciding that the path with a good mix of cover and dodging potential is the best, you head to the right. You weave through the furniture gracefully, trying to clear it as fast as possible. At least, you do until you misplace your handhold.<br><br>You put too much pressure on the back of an armchair, leading it to tip backward. There isn't much to do mid-jump except panic, so you do just that as you land on the armchair and tumble along with it, just narrowly avoiding furniture or outright rolling through weaker fixtures like table legs. When you finally come to a stop, you groan as you push off the light table that fell on you. You've actually rolled all the way to the center.<br><br>Any annoyance at that fact is scrubbed away by the sound of glass shattering. At first you duck, thinking that Fenborz tried another shot while you were thinking, but you just don't recall hearing a third one. As you look around, you realize that the chandeliers are crashing left and right- literally, as the projectiles fly through the chains supporting.<br><br>Out of harm's way by some miracle, you quickly pick yourself up and get to the end of the carriage before slipping behind a bookshelf. Taking the opportunity to get a breather, you scan the carriage for what he shot at you. While one has disappeared into the debris, the one on your path is visible atop a pile of glass.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming as it lays on the floor where it landed. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot.<br><br>Having refilled your supply of air, (link:"you continue your run and leave the two-story carriage behind you.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[Fenborz' angle in mind, you simply continue running, using the furniture as handholds to spring yourself further without breaking stride. Shattered glass and tossed metal make a mess of the path's sides, and still you only give them the slightest glance. After all, the center is lit from the lights of the second floor. There aren't any chandeliers here for Fenborz to shoot.<br><br>You reach the end of the carriage before the last of the chandeliers even fall, smirking at Fenborz' rushed movements as he tries to get his rifle to stop overheating. (link:"You leave the two-story carriage behind smiling.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[Fenborz' angle in mind, you simply continue running, using the furniture as handholds to spring yourself further without breaking stride. Shattered glass and tossed metal make a mess of the path's sides, and still you only give them the slightest glance. After all, the center is lit from the lights of the second floor. There aren't any chandeliers here for Fenborz to shoot.<br><br>You reach the end of the carriage before the last of the chandeliers even fall, smirking at Fenborz' rushed movements as he tries to get his rifle to stop overheating. (link:"You leave the two-story carriage behind smiling.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Mapping")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[You make a break for the left, wary of the unknown mechanisms on your right. There are several metal thunks as the dart hits the tableside lanterns. While you accounted for this, giving the now-aflame center table a very wide berth, you hadn't accounted for the lanterns tipping over. Spilling oil as they fall, the flammable path is just long enough for them to reach the left- not only where you are, but where bundles of scrolls lay like tinder.<br><br>The sudden fireball nipping at your heels is fast enough to set your billowing traveling garb alight- a fact you only discover later, when it's already burning up to your back. You have no choice but to stop and tear it off of you. Just as the painful heat ceases, you feel a sharp sting in your exposed upper body.<br><br>You grasp the slimy dart and [[fall unconscious->FenborzBadEnd2]], safely away from the flame but not your defeat.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)You make a break for the left, wary of the unknown mechanisms on your right- or you would have had you not crashed into a nearby table, sprawling atop it and hopelessly tearing the map underneath. You look up just as Fenborz' projectile hits the tableside lanterns, setting the center table aflame. You climb off your own table just as the lanterns tip over, creating a flammable path all the way to the bundled collections of scrolls.<br><br>Well, there's definitely no going down that path anymore. You sprint to the right, past the completely docile mechanisms, and slide to an area with cover and, more importantly, no flammable materials. Your eyes scan the carriage, looking for whatever he shot at you. You have to be quick, though- the heat and smoke rise in tandem. There!<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming yellow as flames flicker over it. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt, and they're about to be scorched further. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid which is rapidly hardening in response to the heat.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Shaking off the sight of embers as best as you can, you (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[You make a break for the right, wary of the collections of scrolls due to the one detail that stays in the forefront of your mind; the only thing near the center table, the array of lanterns. You're vindicated by a dull //thunk// as the dart hits one of the lanterns, which is more than enough to send all of them tumbling down, spraying flaming oil all over the center table and floor.<br><br>The fire spreads to the rolled-up maps collected on the left while you watch coolly from the far less flammable side. The fire hasn't even grown to its full size when you reach the end of the carriage when (link:"you enter the next")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))], thankful that the carriage's bare metal floors prevent the flames from spreading to the others.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[You make a break for the right, wary of the collections of scrolls due to the one detail that stays in the forefront of your mind; the only thing near the center table, the array of lanterns. You're vindicated by a dull //thunk// as the projectile hits one of the lanterns, which is more than enough to send all of them tumbling down, spraying flaming oil all over the center table and floor.<br><br>The fire spreads to the rolled-up maps collected on the left while you watch coolly from the far less flammable side. The fire hasn't even grown to its full size when you reach the end of the carriage when (link:"you enter the next")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))], thankful that the carriage's bare metal floors prevent the flames from spreading to the others.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[You realize that he's aiming toward the center, but you run toward it on the off chance that he's aiming for something either before or after you. Clambering on top of the large round table, you're soon running across its length, damaging the map with each boot-laden step. The fact that you're avoiding the much more cluttered left and right paths, as well as the floor itself, is an added benefit.<br><br>Or, at least it would be, had Fenborz not shot the lanterns. The flames spin out onto the map within a blink of an eye, and suddenly, you're fighting to get off of the table before the fire can utterly consume you. You leap forward without care for grace, landing on the floor with a dull //thud//. You practically tear your garb off of yourself as you rise, tossing the burning fabric far away from you.<br><br>That moment of hesitation is all that Fenborz needs to take his shot, and with the fear of the flames masking an earlier //''BANG''//, the dart sinks neatly into your now-exposed stomach. You [[fall unconscious->FenborzBadEnd2]], safely away from the fire but not your defeat.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)You realize that he's aiming toward the center, but you run toward it on the off chance that he's aiming for something either before or after you. You start clambering on top of the large round table, trying to sweep your feet onto it while holding on instead of a proper jump. It's far too tall for that, and you end up spraled in a heap at its base.<br><br>Shaking off the embarrassment, you roll backward and actually try to get a good running start, only for Fenborz' projectile to hit the railway lanterns to your left. The center table's map immediately goes up in flames, and when one of the lanterns falls to the ground, it sprays fiery oil all the way to the scrolls on the left.<br><br>Well, there's definitely no going down either of those paths anymore. You sprint to the right, past the completely docile mechanisms, and slide to an area with cover and, more importantly, no flammable materials. Your eyes scan the carriage, looking for whatever he shot at you. You have to be quick, though- the heat and smoke rise in tandem. There!<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming yellow as flames flicker over it. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt, and they're about to be scorched further. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid which is rapidly hardening in response to the heat.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. Shaking off the sight of embers as best as you can, you (link:"enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))]]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[You run for the left, far more wary of the angle that Fenborz is shooting at than any clutter in your way. Your choice pays off almost immediately, as the dart flies into the carriage and right into the display cabinet, shattering it completely. None of the shards touch you, and you're not even intimidated by the //thunk// that follows afterward.<br><br>You watch the globe briefly as it detaches from its stand and rolls into the table, but soon enough you're at the end of the carriage. You give one last look behind you, watching the table collapse in on itself, leaving the carriage a mess of wood, glass, and electrical components. You leave it all behind for (link:"the next carriage")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))], unharmed.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[You run for the left, far more wary of the angle that Fenborz is shooting at than any clutter in your way. Your choice pays off almost immediately, as the projectile flies into the carriage and right into the display cabinet, shattering it completely. None of the shards touch you, and you're not even intimidated by the //thunk// that follows afterward.<br><br>You watch the globe briefly as it detaches from its stand and rolls into the table, but soon enough you're at the end of the carriage. You give one last look behind you, watching the table collapse in on itself, leaving the carriage a mess of wood, glass, and electrical components. You leave it all behind for (link:"the next carriage")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))], unharmed.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Looking to avoid the relatively more cluttered left path, you run for the right. You regret your choice almost immediately, as the dart flies into the carriage and right into the display cabinet, shattering it completely just as you pass it. You tuck your head into your garb, fearful of what might happen to your eyes, but that leaves you running blindly. A //thunk// follows, and although you can hear it rolling, you don't know where it is until it's too late.<br><br>It knocks straight into your legs, the round shape- what must be the globe- ruining your stride and balance. You fall to the floor, groaning as shards dig into your skin. You start to get up and almost collapse again at a new wave of pain from your very bruised leg. The globe is a lot more solid than you thought.<br><br>Your pain plays directly to Fenborz' benefit, and when he fires again with a ''//BANG//'', you already know you can't dodge meaningfully. The dart hits your shoulder even as you try to twist away, and the new pain accelerates [[your fading into the black.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Looking to avoid the relatively more cluttered left path, you run for the right. You regret your choice almost immediately, but not because of Fenborz' action- you crash into a nearby table, eyes too focused on what was directly ahead that you forgot completely about your side. Clutching your hip, you curse inwardly and prepare to start running again.<br><br>It's at that moment that the projectile flies into the carriage and right into the display cabinet, shattering it completely. A loud thunk follows soon after, and you see the globe detach from its crumbling stand as soon as it hits the floor. Due to a slope hidden beneath the former cabinet, the globe actually picks up speed and smashes right through the base of the table. A brief wobble is the only warning you get before the table collapses in on itself entirely.<br><br>Rather than hazarding the path littered with shards or the one with wood and electrical components, you run through the left path, which remains untouched. Before you make it all the way, though, you find a solid shelf to hide behind while you figure out what Fenborz is actually shooting at you. Thankfully, it's rather inconspicuous among the glass shards it's resting on.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming like the glass it landed on. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You leave the now-ruined furniture of the mapping carriage behind, (link:"entering the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))]]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Looking to avoid the more cluttered paths entirely, you leap onto the large round table and start running, trying to ignore the sound of ripping coming from underneath your boots. The dart flies into the carriage and right into the display cabinet, shattering it completely. None of the shards touch you, and you actually start to smile.<br><br>That is until there's a loud //thunk.// You watch as the globe falls and breaks free of its wooden stand. You realize that the floor underneath the cabinet is sloped, just enough for the globe to pick up speed as it rolls right toward the table you're on.<br><br>The deceptively solid globe smashes right through the base of the table, and a brief wobble is your only warning before the table collapses in on itself entirely. You groan when you hit the floor, one of your limbs hitting the globe beneath. With shaky breath and brusied limb you stand up slowly, and that's all the time that Fenborz needs to fire his next shot with a resounding //''BANG''//.<br><br>The uneven 'flooring' that is the remains of the table don't give you nearly enough of a solid footing, and the dart stabs into your shoulder. You try pulling the the dart out, but its slick surface makes it impossible- and, in fact, it hastens [[your sudden passing out.->FenborzBadEnd2]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Looking to avoid the more cluttered paths entirely, you start clambering on top of the large round table, trying to sweep your feet onto it while holding on instead of a proper jump. It's far too tall for that, and you end up spraled in a heap at its base.<br><br>Shaking off the embarrassment, you roll backward and actually try to get a good running start, only for Fenborz' projectile to zoom to the right. Where once was a glass display case, now there is only a hail of glass shards crashing toward the ground alongside its former most prominent display.<br><br>With a loud //thunk//, the globe falls and breaks free of its wooden stand. You realize that the floor underneath the cabinet is sloped, just enough for the globe to pick up speed as it rolls right toward the table you're on. The deceptively solid globe smashes right through the base of the table, and a brief wobble is the only warning before it collapses in on itself entirely.<br><br>Rather than hazarding the path littered with shards or the one with wood and electrical components, you run through the left path, which remains untouched. Before you make it all the way, though, you find a solid shelf to hide behind while you figure out what Fenborz is actually shooting at you. Thankfully, it's rather inconspicuous among the glass shards it's resting on.<br><br>It's a wicked-looking dart, its long needle gleaming like the glass it landed on. The prongs on its back are slightly burnt. Any thought of touching it is thrown out the window when you see that it's been completely slathered in some kind of purple liquid.<br><br>Whatever luck you have, you've already burnt through it. You know Fenborz isn't going to miss a second shot. You leave the now-ruined furniture of the mapping carriage behind, (link:"entering the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage"))]]
]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Placeholder")[
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
]
]
}Quickly hiding behind the bulky machine that saved you, you take a few seconds to grasp your situation.
You are in the caboose, the last carriage of the train. The interior is simple, functional, with metal walls and sturdy wooden benches along the sides. Dim light bulbs flicker overhead, casting long, eerie shadows on the shelves that line both walls, full of cases. Crates are securely fastened to the floor on the left, containing supplies for the journey, mirrored by pressurized barrels containing steam. Their purely functional forms starkly contrast with the opulence of the carriages you passed before.
Peeking out from behind your cover, you watch the metallic exterior stretch into the distance, before transitioning into the next carriage. Even at your fastest sprint, you realize you'll need to cover this considerable distance before reaching Fenborz, who waits somewhere ahead, ready to use his device.
Determination courses through you as you leap from cover before breaking into a sprint, the thunder of your boots echoing off the metal floor.
{(set:$lastCarriage to "Caboose")
(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)","(set:$variationTrain to 2)","(set:$variationTrain to 3)")
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[Although you can't see Fenborz' eyes through his mask, you can just feel them trained on you, just as yours are on him. However, you can feel the concentration break for just a moment-- Fenborz' aim suddenly veers, and with a ''//BANG//'', his projectile pierces the side of a barrel some distance ahead of you.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[Fenborz remains impassive as he points his device toward you, and the weight of not only his gaze but that of the weapon's rests on you. However, all at once, that weight is transferred-- Fenborz' suddenly adjusts his aim, and with a ''//BANG//'', his projectile crunches through some crates.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 3)[In contrast to your hurried movements, Fenborz is almost deathly still. He tracks your movements down the aisle with precision, something that's not particularly hard given that you're moving in a straight line. Twice, a ''//BANG//'' reveberates through the train. You can hear rumbling from the shelves above.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
}As you burst into the kitchen carriage, you're immediately hit by the aroma of exotic spices and sizzling meats. Ducking behind a row of solid metal countertops, you look at your surroundings. (if:$fenborzPhase is 2)[You keep an ear out for Fenborz, ready to move in case he shoots his piercing darts.]
Gleaming copper pots and pans hang from the ceiling, each one equipped with intricate gears and dials. Steam hisses from a series of devices resembling a hearth, their release valves spouting clouds of vapor. The countertops on the right stretch all across the wall, and are adorned with an assortment of mechanical devices designed for culinary precision, from clockwork egg beaters to a self-turning rotisserie.
Ahead, on the side opposite the countertops, a particularly thick, blocky, and towering machine hisses and whirs, producing a thick cloud of steam as it brews a dark liquid. Heat permeates the entire carriage, accompanied by the mechanical hum of the gadgets that surround you.
Fenborz' shot is imminent, and you dash past a row of gleaming knives with gears embedded in their handles to get into the center aisle. (if:$fenborzPhase is 2)[You consider grabbing one now that you're close enough to throw it at him, but you've seen his mobility. He'd just dodge and fire five right back at you. You can only wait to see what he does.]
{(if:$fenborzHealth is 9)[(goto:"FenborzReload")]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is 2)[(goto:"FenborzFinale")]
(set:$lastCarriage to "Kitchen")
(if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[
(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)","(set:$variationTrain to 2)")
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[Fenborz sacrifices any speed advantage that he may have had waiting for you to come out, and instead settles on silent precision. He narrows his focus as he follows your frantic movements through the kitchen carriage. The clattering of cookware and the hiss of steam fills the air as he bides his time, patiently waiting for the precise moment.<br><br>He tracks your every movement, and as soon as you cross the carriage's cluttered center, your intuition tells you to move.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[Quick on the draw, Fenborz fires almost as soon as you step out. However, his aim- veered far to the right- is almost as surprising as his projectile's trajectory. Due to the extreme angle, it doesn't actually enter the carriage you're in quickly. Instead, it travels through the carriages nearest Fenborz. It travels through a few before you realize that it's actually picking up speed.<br><br>
Alarmed, you actually start making note of its pattern. It enters carriages moving right, and logically hits the right, bounces off the right wall, then the left wall, then exits the carriage. With the shot about to enter your carriage, you have to make a decision here and now.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
]
(elseif:$fenborzPhase is 2)[The lever moves back with Fenborz' deft hands. The rifle placed perfectly level, with a simple swing of his arm, five darts follow. Their sheer speed means you can't glean any more information from them- at least, not without them stabbing into you.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]
]
}When you enter the observation carriage, you're struck by the brightness of it. Large, arched windows stretch from floor to ceiling, offering panoramic views of the passing landscape. Now that you look at it, the ceiling is entirely glass as well, excepting the fact that the (if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)leftmost side","(set:$variationTrain to 2)rightmost side") is covered by a veranda.](else:)[veranda perfectly covers the entire right side. Its particularly large frame is supported by bulky metal rails on the edge closest to you and the edge near the end of the carriage.] If you had to hazard a guess, you'd say it slides, just like the one at the train station. As a result, the carriage is flooded with light, even though the lamps aren't on. (if:$fenborzPhase is 2)[The effect is dampened a bit from the natural shadow the veranda casts, of course.]
You dash through the elegant space and slide behind a solid metal divider before looking further. Curiously-shaped telescopes (two short cylinders stuck together, instead of a long one) are held on stands in front of the windows, offering visitors a better look at the city outside. Even from this position, through the gaps in densely-packed buildings, you can see the water's edge.
{(if:$fenborzHealth is >9)[As you peer through the windows, you see that you're still in the heart of Chromore. Towering metallic structures rise against the shoreline, their glistening surfaces reflecting the play of sunlight on the cerulean waves. Crowded piers and docks extend into the harbor, where various gear-patterned vessels, both large and small, bob gently on the gentle tide. The city's density is undeniable, as buildings almost seem to compete for space, creating a skyline that merges with the sea and sky.]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is >7)[The train continues its journey away from the bustling city center, and the colossal waterfront skyscrapers gradually give way to slightly smaller but equally impressive constructions. Along the coast, ships and boats of various shapes and sizes navigate the busy harbor waters, their sails billowing or steam funnels puffing in a synchronized dance of progress.]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is >5)[The landscape transforms as you move further from the urban core, and the surroundings take on a more industrial aspect. Enormous factories with towering smokestacks line the waterfront, releasing columns of steam and exhaust into the open sea. Warehouses and cargo terminals abound, with cranes and loaders tirelessly moving goods onto ships bound for far-off destinations.]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is >3)[Gradually, the cityscape transitions from industrial to suburban as the train ventures away from the bustling waterfront. Rows of compact townhouses and multi-story complexes mark the change. The streets remain lively, but there's a different ambiance in the air- not exactly serene, as it's still quite busy, but perhaps subdued- as you enter residential neighborhoods. The architectural style is uniquely rustic for the otherwise technological city, with detailed metalwork adorning arched balconies and lamp posts.]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is >2)[The train has very nearly reached the outskirts of the city, where the concrete jungle gives way to the untamed beauty of nature. The contrast is stark, as you find yourself rapidly approaching the stark border between life and the serene sea. The city's skyline still looms in the distance, but you are no longer surrounded by the superdense walls. You need to wrap this fight up quickly.]}
The floors are covered in thick, patterned carpets that absorb the sound of your hurried footsteps, creating an eerie silence within the opulent surroundings. The decor exudes an air of extravagance and refinement, making it an unusual place for a life-or-death chase.
Fenborz, determined to eliminate you, takes aim with his (if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[telescopic long-range rifle.](else:)[weapon's new mode, looking ready to move at any second.]
{(if:$fenborzHealth is 9)[(goto:"FenborzReload")]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is 2)[(goto:"FenborzFinale")]
(set:$lastCarriage to "Observation")
(if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[With very little cover in this carriage whatsoever, you have no choice but to speed up in order to cover more ground. You worry that he's just going to perfect his aim, but the mind of the inventor works on a completely different wavelength. He tilts his rifle upward and forces the matter immediately, the //''BANG''// rattling the windows.
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$fenborzPhase is 2)[Faced not only with a carriage that has little to no cover, you actually decide to just start pushing the metal divider in front of you. Your goal here is to force him to use the piercing darts so that you can roll out of the way and then just dash before he can recover.<br><br>
Just as you expect, Fenborz pulls back the lever with a solid grunt. But your thoughts are apparently far too practical for someone like Fenborz, who, instead of aiming low toward you, does the complete opposite.<br><br>
He jumps, a neat stream of flame-trailed darts leaving his rifle as he keeps it steady. Fenborz himself flies backward from the recoil before landing in a graceful roll. OK, you already know the type of shot he used. Now it's just a matter of figuring out what he's doing in the split second you have.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]
]
}When you awake, you're surrounded by guards. Your hand reaches for the dagger in your boot by pure instinct, only to find that it isn't there. Not only your dagger, but your boot. In fact... you've been completely stripped, not only of your gear, but of all clothing. Blushing fiercely, you grab the pillow of the bed you were sleeping on to cover yourself.
"You're not going to need that for very long," one of the guards says snidely, twirling his electrified baton.
"Shut up," you say. "I'm ready to hear Fenborz' terms."
"The Ingeniator?" Another guard pipes up. "You're not talking to him."
Just then, the doors slide open with a hiss and the turning of gears. Stepping gracefully through is (if:$trainFeiloft is true)[the androgynous receptionist you saw while visiting Feiloft. They look just the same, not only from the white and blue robes, but from their impassive face. You whip your head side to side- yes, you remember the colors of the company, and the way they lined their walls with it. But why are you at Feiloft?](else:)[a person of considerable androgyny, their elegant figure in white and blue robes blending masculine and feminine. According to a plate attached just underneath the robes' collar, they're a receptionist. You watch them with equal suspicion, having no memory of encountering such a person before.]
"You know, I took the role of receptionist to experience life the way the average person does, so no matter how high Feiloft soared, I could be grounded in my decisions." They slide their thumb over their lips. "But there are times when I have to step into my proper role. I don't believe I've introduced myself properly. My name is Emilniu Feiloft, and the Ingeniator has been kind enough to gift the company... well, you."
"And what exactly stops me from escaping?" You spit bitterly. "You might be able to confine me now, but even the best guards grow complacent."
Emilniu remains silent, their stare coming off more as graceful than intimidating- or intimidated, for that matter. They step forward, boldly taking a seat next to you. The guards flinch, and for a few moments, they're all waiting for you to do something so they can pounce on you. You press further down on the pillow covering you, but do nothing more. You're already unseemly as it is; sitting naked next to someone so infuriatingly composed. You'd rather you didn't flail out like the victims of electricity do, unable to cover yourself.
Seeing your lack of direct resistance, Emilniu continues. "It's bad for business if it gets out that you're being here against your will. To begin with, it's not a problem most people face. Most nation's leaders wouldn't even think of foisting a wanted criminal off to a business, but Fenborz' mind eludes the best of us. Look, what I'm saying is, I want you to work for me willingly."
You raise an eyebrow.
"As it stands, Wevendh is still a sovereign nation. Blaylock and Nicodemus are in the process of convincing Fenborz to launch a full-scale invasion to make that very much not the case. There are businessmen lurking in the water, waiting for the very first drop of blood. The Svantteris have caught wind, and you do //not// want them in your cities. As a trader myself, I'm interested in making money- just not in carving up people's homes, or in the bloody affairs before that."
It's... a lot to take in. It's strange to speak to your captor and hear them say so frankly that they're //not// interested in taking your nation in any form. Then again, the person you actually lost to may end up doing that anyway. "And you're certain you can stop the invasion?"
Emilniu nods. "Fenborz sees me as a kindred spirit. He dotes on me- perhaps a bit too much, if I'm honest- so he'll definitely listen to me. The only thing I want in exchange... well, that's too narrow. Basically, I want you to do whatever I tell you."
It's you or your nation, and there's only one path forward.
"Fine. [[What do you want?->FenborzBadEnd2-2]]""And don't forget- Feiloft's airships are rated the safest and most efficient flyers in the sky! Ask the friendly receptionists for more information, and have a pleasant afternoon on behalf of Feiloft Inc.!" You smile brightly and wave to the crowd as they disperse from the Lotus Deck.
This is your life now.
In exchange for Wevendh's continued safety (not only from the Chromoric League but by it, thanks to the lengthy discussions your employer had with Fenborz), you act as Feiloft's personal advertising mascot. It was rather brilliantly orchestrated when you were first revaled; any questions as to why you were doing this would point only to the airships that patrol Wevendh. While people differed on the exact reason behind it- some correctly guessing that you lost, albeit not to the people of Feiloft- they eventually accepted the change.
When all of the visitors for the day disappear from the deck, you drop the smile and allow yourself to sag from the perfect posture you kept up all day. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded so much had you been dressed appropriately. What Emilniu decided to put you in, however, isn't very practical at all.
Although your sleeves are puffy, your blue-lined white top cuts off just underneath your pecs. When it gets windy, as is often the case here on the deck, it tends to blow up and expose your nipples. Your hips don't fare much better, as they're covered by a skirt that only reaches to your mid-thigh. The rest of your legs are covered by long, black socks. It's all topped off by a beret in a mock approximation of a military outfit.
This became your wardrobe not only in reality but in people's image of you, as Emilniu soon introduced you to one of the hottest new inventions to hit Chromore- the light imaging device, or L.I.D. for short. At first you were worried that they were going to execute you when they first pointed the massive, bulky machine at you, but when the flash of light came, all that it produced was a simple light image- a painting of you, but incredibly realistic.
Your image is all over Chromore now, not in regal garb, but only ever as a living advertisement. That's not the only way you're seen in Chromore, however.
"Hey. Your shift starts in 10 minutes." Beregen whispers into your ear as he steps behind you, grabbing onto your hips.
You sigh and bat him away. "Then we do it [[in 10 minutes.->FenborzBadEnd2-3]]""Imagine that- you gave me lip earlier, and now you're giving me your whole mouth." Beregen gloats, thrusting into your throat.
You're in a dimly lit room, tied to a metal bed frame. Your legs are spread wide, and your head hangs off the edge. The room is filled with the sound of laughter and lewd squelching as your 'coworkers' violate you.
"10 minutes? That wasn't an invitation, bitch. Emilniu treats you too damn well. Got you thinking you're still a king even though you're doing this. Well, I'm happy to remind you that you're nothing but a whore." Beregen punctuates the end of his sentences with fierce thrusts that have you kicking your legs out- however small that movement actually is given the ties around your ankles and the man splitting you apart from that end. Your hands scramble for purchase instead, and thankfully, they find it at the back of Beregen's legs.
"See? You keep pulling me closer. I guess whores like you don't recognize authority until it's fucking you in the face. In fact? Thank me for doing it. Thank me for fucking your face."
Normally you wouldn't give him the time of day, but he's Emilniu's brother. For the record, Emilniu doesn't actually like him, but he's still in charge of the workers. You'd rather he take his frustrations out here, in this private room, rather than out on the Lotus Deck.
Moans spill out from the other tables. Well, private enough. When Beregen's experiments with you proved profitable, they started bringing in criminals for a 'rehabilitation program.'
Swallowing your pride (and around Beregen's cock), you say what he asks of you, albeit muffled around his thick meat pole.
He pulls out, giving you a precious moment to breathe. You gulp in as much air as you can, knowing full well that Beregen doesn't like to give you any chance to breathe. As you do so, spit and pre dribbling down your face, he looks down on you. "What was that? I couldn't understand you."
"Thank-"
He slams his cock back in, both your words and his cock choking you. You convulse as you cum, the constant stimulation, surprise, and the man at the other end jabbing at your prostate forcing thick streaks of white out of you. It's at that exact moment that the flash of the L.I.D. comes, and through the panic and pleasure, you know that that one will sell particularly well.
That's Beregen's scheme, really. He uses the same device Emilniu does, only this time, he captures your image in the most carnal situations. By now he's gotten hundreds of images of you, each featuring you in a different position, or a different angle, or worshiping someone's cock (usually his) in a different way. He tells you about it every night- how people have bought so many images of you, face splattered with cum, kissing a cock resting on your face, that they have to take another light image.
As the night wears on, men cycle in and out of the room. Many take turns with you specifically. Your body is stretched and abused in ways you never imagined possible, yet, somehow... you found yourself starting to enjoy it.
Beregen stays all throughout, whittling away your pride and dignity even when he's taking a break from fucking you. With every word he twists pleasure, pain, and the lewd sound of sex together into a twisted symphony of lust.
Over months, as you're raped and light imaged again and again, you start to smile, lost in the madness of it all. But even as your sense of identity crumbles away- advertising mascot at day, light image whore at night- you find an odd sort of peace. It's a simple sense that this is who you've become, and there's no turning back.
''Game Over.''
(link:"Retry Chromore.")[goto:"ChromoreCapitalEnter"]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]Stepping into the dining carriage, you find yourself in an opulent chamber of polished brass and deep mahogany, bathed in the soft, warm glow of gaslight fixtures hanging from the ornate ceiling. The carriage, intended to be a picture of decadence, is now host to the chaos that is your deadly game.
Diving behind a metal cart for cover, you examine the carriage further. Long, polished oak tables are elegantly set with gleaming silver cutlery and sparkling crystal goblets on both sides of the room, all awaiting passengers who aren't there. Above the left row of tables hangs a complex, interconnected swathe of pipes and clocks that is far too complicated even for this city- it's simply a display. The entire carriage is lined with windows, letting in the light and showing off the view of the city as the train speeds past.
Velvet-lined chairs, adorned with intricate steampunk patterns and plush cushions, offer a comfortable dining experience but not the cover you need. To the right are low wicker cabinets that house all the unused plates and glassware. Ornate wall sconces cast intricate shadows on the dark wood-panelled walls, where elaborate paintings of airships and clockwork machinery provide a sense of grandeur.
{(if:$fenborzHealth is 9)[(goto:"FenborzReload")]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is 2)[(goto:"FenborzFinale")]
(set:$lastCarriage to "Dining")
(if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[
(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)","(set:$variationTrain to 2)")
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[Taking a more preemptive approach to this carriage, you sprint for the left row of tables. The tables are joined in such a way that you can very easily run across them, and because of the huge swathes of open space, you can hop off them if Fenborz goes for a direct shot.<br><br>
Your boots shake the table and the delicate eating ware set on them, but it all holds together. You try to take extra care not to trip over the dining cloth on them as you watch Fenborz' next move carefully.<br><br>
Fenborz' movements are remarkably less sure than they were in other carriages, but he nonetheless moves his rifle into position- aimed upwards.
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[Taking a more preemptive approach to this carriage, you sprint for the right row of tables. The tables are joined in such a way that you can very easily run across them, and because of the huge swathes of open space, you can hop off them if Fenborz goes for a direct shot.<br><br>
Your boots shake the table and the delicate eating ware set on them, but it all holds together. You try to take extra care not to trip over the dining cloth on them as you watch Fenborz' next move carefully.<br><br>
Fenborz' movements are remarkably less sure than they were in other carriages, but he nonetheless moves his rifle into position- aimed downwards.
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
]
(elseif:$fenborzPhase is 2)[Your first thought is to make a break for one of the tables, but Fenborz' sudden movement forces you to react to his plan instead. In a reflection of your own actions, he sprints toward you, spinning the dial as he does so. You force yourself not to blink as he tucks into a forward roll, stopping perfectly in the doorway of his carriage. With his weapon pointing right at you, you have to make a decision.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Jump to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]
]
}(set:$introState to false)
{(link:"Save Game")[
(link:"Save 1")[(set:$savePassage's 1st to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 1","$savePassage's 1st"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 2")[(set:$savePassage's 2nd to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 2","$savePassage's 2nd"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 3")[(set:$savePassage's 3rd to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 3","$savePassage's 3rd"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 4")[(set:$savePassage's 4th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 4","$savePassage's 4th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 5")[(set:$savePassage's 5th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 5","$savePassage's 5th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 6")[(set:$savePassage's 6th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 6","$savePassage's 6th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 7")[(set:$savePassage's 7th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 7","$savePassage's 7th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 8")[(set:$savePassage's 8th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 8","$savePassage's 8th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 9")[(set:$savePassage's 9th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 9","$savePassage's 9th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]<br>
(link:"Save 10")[(set:$savePassage's 10th to $lastPassage)
(if:(save-game:"Slot 10","$savePassage's 10th"))[
Saved.]
(else: )[
Something went wrong.]]
]
<br><br>
(link:"Load Game")[
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 1")[(print:$savePassage's 1st) (link: "Load Slot 1")[(load-game:"Slot 1")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 2")[(print:$savePassage's 2nd) (link: "Load Slot 2")[(load-game:"Slot 2")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 3")[(print:$savePassage's 3rd) (link: "Load Slot 3")[(load-game:"Slot 3")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 4")[(print:$savePassage's 4th) (link: "Load Slot 4")[(load-game:"Slot 4")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 5")[(print:$savePassage's 5th) (link: "Load Slot 5")[(load-game:"Slot 5")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 6")[(print:$savePassage's 6th) (link: "Load Slot 6")[(load-game:"Slot 6")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 7")[(print:$savePassage's 7th) (link: "Load Slot 7")[(load-game:"Slot 7")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 8")[(print:$savePassage's 8th) (link: "Load Slot 8")[(load-game:"Slot 8")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 9")[(print:$savePassage's 9th) (link: "Load Slot 9")[(load-game:"Slot 9")]]<br>
(if:(saved-games:) contains "Slot 10")[(print:$savePassage's 10th) (link: "Load Slot 10")[(load-game:"Slot 10")]]
]
<br><br>
(link-goto: "Return", $lastPassage)
}You rush into the sleeper carriage, and the atmosphere immediately shifts. The narrow aisle stretches ahead, lined with plush, overstuffed seats upholstered in rich burgundy velvet. With several nearly identical compartments running all through its length, you simply run into the nearest one to examine it further.
Cherry woodwork and frosted glass partitions lend an air of sophistication to the otherwise thin walls. Polished mahogany armrests and small tables with elegant reading lamps add a touch of luxury despite their small size. The overhead compartments are neatly arranged with luggage, though with the lack of passengers other than yourself and Fenborz, they have to be the Ingeniator's.
Thick curtains, drawn to offer privacy, partly obscure the windows. Soft lighting and the especially gentle rocking motion would have lullled passengers to sleep as they embarked on their overnight journey had there been any here.
But it's the inviting beds that truly capture your attention. The double berths are dressed in sumptuous, dark blue beddings, adorned with intricately embroidered patterns of dark clouds, like those before a storm. High, log-like pillows beckon you to rest your head, and the eiderdowns promise warmth and comfort. If you had been a peaceful passenger here, perhaps you would have found solace in these cozy nooks, not embroiled in this life-and-death chase.
You emerge only after noting the details, and you wait for Fenborz' inevitable move. For a few precious moments, all the two of you do is stare the other down.
Then Fenborz' composure breaks. He scurries to and fro, trying to waft away the sudden cloud of smoke that comes from his rifle. The sight shocks you, but not enough to freeze. This is it- this is a chance!
Like a drop of blood to a wild predator, Fenborz' weakness drives you to ignore all protests from your body in order to close the distance.
In your frantic dash, you continue catching fleeting glimpses of the plush beds, their pristine linens inviting and serene, though currently unoccupied. You note with increasing glee the moment when you emerge into familiar surroundings- the very first carriage you entered, its doors now shut.
But through the windows flanking the doors, you see yet another familiar sight. Automated guards gathering up by a bridge that you're rapidly approaching. Your step falters just as one automated guard jumps at precisely the right moment, breaking right through the windows and moving just in time for another to land. And another. And then another. It isn't long at all before the guards fill nearly the entire carriage, each one barking threatening orders.
They charge right at you, and even though you avoid the first wave, very soon, the second approaches you. With the first turning around and encircling you, things look dire. (if:$schanschirrCondition is false)[With your back to the wall, you have no choice but to fight. The automated guards are metal, which means your blows against them sting, but you're not so weak as to let that stop you. You punch through quite a few, even standing your ground for quite some time. Perhaps out of respect, Fenborz doesn't shoot you. But ultimately, their number overwhelms you. The electric batons slam into you until [[you drop unconscious.->FenborzBadEnd3]]](elseif:$schanschirrCondition is true)[That's when you remember the handy device that you stole from Schanschirr. Whipping it out, you wildly fiddle with it in a desperate attempt to counter the threat. Miraculously, it works- and you know it works when one guard that was charging at you suddenly turns to defend you from its fellows. You do exactly what you did last, and soon enough, you have the entire force that managed to get on the train under your beck and call. You sally forth with your newfound army, the mechanical guards' garbled and confused speech sounding like a war chant. You run with them, ready to [[storm the rest of the train.->FenborzReload2]]]In the intense heat of pursuit, you rush into the second carriage, which houses the heart of the train; the engine and its intricate machinery. You start analyzing each detail, readying yourself for Fenborz' final trick, when you notice that Fenborz isn't moving at all. Focusing in on him, you can practically feel the hesitation rolling off of him in waves. His rifle practically bounces in his grip, his uncertain movements following each flicker of his green eyes.
You don't give him the luxury of time, of course. You burst forward like a mad dog, using up all the energy you reserved for dodging to run in fierce, almost bestial movements.
In one last, desperate movement, Fenborz points his rifle sky-high and unloads a rapid barrage of darts into the ceiling From the way the dust is falling and the circular arc of his weapon, you can tell that he's carving a hole in the metal overhead. Now that you're so close, you can actually hear the sharp report of shots reverberating through the carriage.
Just as you enter the carriage, Fenborz rolls to the side with the agility of a seasoned combatant. He narrowly avoids the raining debris as a chunk of the ceiling collapses from the force of the shots. He stands up slowly, and you seize this moment to jump. Your fingers wrap around Fenborz's rifle and you //pull//, desperate to disarm him.
A brief but fierce struggle ensues between the two of you, each grappling for control of the weapon. Every time the rifle slips within Fenborz' grip, he maneuvers his other hand for better leverage. Similarly, when he attempts to twist the weapon around and dislodge your grip, you just hold on tighter and push in the opposite direction. The deadlock must have gone on for only a couple moments, but with you both in exhausted states, it feels like an eternity.
It's the most unlikely interruption, then, that happens. A thick rope, its double-braided sheen hinting at its strength, drops through the hole Fenborz's shots created. A considerable length pools on the floor next to the two of you before finally stopping.
Relief flashes over what little features you can make through the mask, and Fenborz just fully lets go of his rifle. You, on the other hand, don't expect that and all and continue to pull with unwavering determination, causing the rifle to swing uncontrollably backward and above your head. With a crushing impact against the metal control console, the prized weapon is reduced to a mangled, inoperable wreck.
Snapping your head forward, you see Fenborz ascending on the rope, already half-way through the hole. You grab hold of the length of rope rapidly ascending along with him, and exit right after he does.
Fenborz, feeling the weight beneath him, lets out an exasperated cry. "Why aren't you giving up already!?"
"I'm not giving up until Chromore is mine," you snarl back.
A dark shadow casts itself across Fenborz' face. "It's always the same with you all! I don't care about ruling this place!"
Any smart quip that you were about to say disappears when the rope shakes and stops ascending. Looking up, you see Fenborz shaking unseemingly, his flailing almost akin to a tantrum.
"I told them from the start, no, but what could I say when they brought the merchants to me? I felt like I couldn't breathe. But they told me they'd handle everything. All I had to do was speak from time to time, and everything would be all right. Now look where it's gotten me! Assassins breathing down my neck for a nation I never agreed to rule!"
Despite yourself, you actually feel a twinge of sympathy when tears dribble out from the edges of Fenborz' train. It's not enough to stop you, of course, but you allow Fenborz his moment.
"And you-" Fenborz says, jabbing his finger down. "You're the worst of them all. I thought you a fellow delver of possibility, only to find you laid your hands on everything I worked for! You broke my train! You broke my new toy!"
A sharp glint is all the warning you get when he suddenly produces a knife. You hurriedly try to climb up, but it's too late. The rope gives way, and you grasp at air as panic seizes your heart. Fenborz yells at you one last time. "But you're never breaking me!"
Your hasty thoughts of death disappear when your back hits metal, and you find with some relief that the train roof has plenty ridges big enough for you to lay your body against. But as you look up toward Fenborz, you actually start to see past him. The clouds themselves give way to a massive shape in shades of red and black- no, looking at it in the sunlight, it gleams the myriad hues of the rainbow.
{(if:$indomitableSeen is false)[It's hard to tell what it is due to the cloud cover, but as you continue to look at it, you realize that it isn't actually cloud you're staring at. The dense collection of white is actually a balloon, and as it breaks free of the actual clouds hiding its hull, you realize that it's an obscenely large airship. It easily dwarfs not only the other airships flying about, but the sky itself.<br><br>
The sight would normally send panic into your heart, but your only reaction is one of sheer exhaustion. Realistically speaking, there's no way for you to access the airship at all. Your one way of doing so was severed when you let Fenborz speak.<br><br>
The normally-loud chug of the train fades into white noise. The motion of the train smooths out into a gentle rocking. Even the whip of wind on your face feels more like a pleasant breeze.<br><br>
Your eyelids are so dreadfully heavy. Any thought of loss or the consequences of attacking Fenborz are completely absent from your mind. Instead [[you sleep->FenborzBadEnd3]], dreaming vividly of what could have been.]
(else:)[You recognize it as the Indomitable, the unique airship still burned into your memory from yesterday's visit. But seeing it in its fullest capacity, blocking out the sun, is an entirely different experience. None of the cannons are pointed at you, nor are they even visible. It's simply a way to keep Fenborz safe while also being a show of pure force.<br><br>
For Fenborz to go through such lengths to protect himself, you can't help but respect it. (if:$feiloftSabotage is false)[Normally you would be racking your brain for something, anything that could get you onto the airship, but your only reaction is one of sheer exhaustion. Realistically speaking, there's no way for you to access the airship at all. Your one way of doing so was severed when you let Fenborz speak.<br><br>
The normally-loud chug of the train fades into white noise. The motion of the train smooths out into a gentle rocking. Even the whip of wind on your face feels more like a pleasant breeze.<br><br>
Your eyelids are so dreadfully heavy. Any thought of loss or the consequences of attacking Fenborz are completely absent from your mind. Instead [[you sleep->FenborzBadEnd3]], dreaming vividly of what could have been.]
(else:)[Of course, that doesn't change the fact that you've already sabotaged his beloved airship.<br><br>
Although your eyelids are dreadfully heavy, you don't allow them to fall shut. Digging your fingernails into your palm, you let the minor pain ground you. You absolutely cannot afford to sleep now, on the cusp of seeing if your plan worked and Fenborz clambering onto the his airship's deck.<br><br>
(if:$feiloftsaboType is 1)[And then it actually hits you. You rigged the electrical relays to stop it from starting in the first place, but it's already blotting out the sun in its leisurely flight. Your mind goes back to the number of engineers running about Feiloft, and the sheer amount of time that Fenborz kept you running through the train. He simply bought enough time for his engineers to fix and fly the ship for him.<br><br>
The thought finally convinces you to let go. Even if there was a way to ascend to the airship, you're so utterly drained of energy that any attempt to do so would most likely get you killed. Damn... you were so close to beating him.<br><br>
The normally-loud chug of the train fades into white noise. The motion of the train smooths out into a gentle rocking. Even the whip of wind on your face feels more like a pleasant breeze. Any thought of loss or the consequences of attacking Fenborz are completely absent from your mind. Instead [[you sleep->FenborzBadEnd3]], dreaming vividly of what could have been.]
(elseif:$feiloftsaboType is 2)[As expected, the Indomitable starts to list. What begins as a very slight deviation you can tell only by the way the plates near the top stop glinting their rainbow hue gradually turns into a clearly visible slant. Even from here, you can see Fenborz running around his deck, panicking.<br><br>
Then it happens- the airship loses power entirely and starts dropping out of the sky like a meteor.<br><br>
Your tired mind wants to pump the satisfaction of defeating Fenborz into you already, but something tells you that you should still be looking. Specifically, you're looking at Fenborz once more. He's still running about, but it's no longer the aimless checking of the sides that he was doing just earlier. His frantic pace is instead devoted to... gutting some of the consoles on the deck.<br><br>
You blink twice, even rub your eyes to make sure you're seeing properly. Yes, Fenborz is outright taking parts out of his ship that aren't related to the pressure valves you sabotaged at all. But unlike the unsophisticated gutting most people would be inclined to do, he's dislodging parts with tools and surgical precision. Even as the ship falls from underneath him, he carefully removes and assembles something in the middle of the deck.<br><br>
Before your very eyes, Fenborz has made an entirely new device. He holds aloft a thick tubing, almost like a rope, and attaches it to one of the panels you know contains mana cubes. Blinking lights fire up on all sides of the device before it shoots a blinding white spear of magical energy directly into the mana-electricity balloon.<br><br>
The airship halts, and then rises again.<br><br>
The sight finally convinces you to let go. Even if there was a way to ascend to the airship, you're so utterly drained of energy that any attempt to do so would most likely get you killed. Damn... you were so close to beating him.<br><br>
The normally-loud chug of the train fades into white noise. The motion of the train smooths out into a gentle rocking. Even the whip of wind on your face feels more like a pleasant breeze. Any thought of loss or the consequences of attacking Fenborz are completely absent from your mind. Instead [[you sleep->FenborzBadEnd3]], dreaming vividly of what could have been.
]
(elseif:$indomitableCondition is true)[The first explosion is small. Miniscule, even. Fenborz turns to look, but his lack of movement afterward suggests confusion moreso than genuine concern.<br><br>
It's a lesson that was drilled into your mind from a very young age, even without the dragon companions those lessons were supposed to teach you about: fire has a way of spreading. Fenborz staggers as a second, much bigger explosion rocks his ship. Red, orange, and black bloom, leaving behind sprouts of the same all over the Indomitable. The Indomitable is a warship, of course, so a little bit of flame on its deck isn't cause for any real concern.<br><br>
A huge explosion inside of the balloon, however? You whistle.<br><br>
A chain of explosions arcs through the balloon, blasting its armored plates off and destroying its rigidity. For once, Fenborz seems to be at a complete and utter loss. His hands, which could doubtlessly answer anything less than this utter destruction, lay empty. It's only when an explosion comes dangerously close to his face that he finally moves.<br><br>
The exact same rope he used to ascend falls toward you once more. With the train still rushing forward, it ends up dangling over the side of the train tracks some, but it's not left behind, either. You hadn't realized just how close the airship remained to the train, most likely to observe you. But with the Indomitable in flames and already hopelessly tilted, Fenborz is forced to abandon ship entirely.<br><br>
He scrambles down the rope, making it more than two thirds down when the ship really starts falling. Like a meteor, already hued black and red and burning fiercely, it descends to the earth. With the flaming mass threatening to yank Fenborz into destruction with it, Fenborz screams as he [[leaps->FenborzFinale2]].<br><br>]
]
]
}The botanical carriage is an intriguing fusion of nature and machinery. As you step up stairs leading inside, you see a place where clockwork creatures seamlessly blend with the lush greenery. The air carries the faint scent of both soil and the oil used to maintain the mechanical marvels that inhabit this carriage.
Rather than struggling to find cover, you easily disappear behind one of many botanical displays to catch your breath and take a look around. (if:$fenborzPhase is 2)[Not evenn Fenborz' rapid fire capability can mow down this dense greenery in any reasonable amount of time.]
Clockwork birds, meticulously crafted and adorned with vibrant plumage, perch on branches and sing sweet, if stilted, melodies. Their movements are precise and calculated, replicating the natural fluttering of their living counterparts. Above them on both sides are straight rows of pipes, each with a knob on them. Considering the lack of other watering implements, you guess this is how they deliver water. A clockwork butterfly flutters from flower to flower, its delicate gears and cogs propelling it gracefully through the air.
Narrow pathways wind through the carriage, leading you past clockwork animals of various sizes. A life-sized, clockwork deer 'grazes' beneath a stylized clockwork oak tree, its intricate gears silently mimicking the animal's graceful movements. Nearby, a group of clockwork rabbits frolic in a bed of clockwork daisies, their copper and brass bodies gleaming in the soft, filtered sunlight.
In the center of the carriage, a small stream meanders its way through the greenery, flowing from right to left. Clockwork fish swim in its crystal-clear waters, their intricate movements mimicking those of their living counterparts. It's deceptively fast and deep; you spot koi moving at great speeds, far below the surface of the water. Clockwork frogs rest on lily pads, periodically emitting a soft, rhythmic ticking sound. You note that the banks of the stream are already quite muddy, and the only proper way across is a short wooden bridge.
You weave your way through the carriage, taking care not to let yourself emerge from behind the cover of the plants, both green and clockwork alike. You almost think that you can cross the entire carriage like this, and you would have, had the stream not been there. You take one last deep breath before darting out to see what Fenborz is planning.
{(if:$fenborzHealth is 9)[(goto:"FenborzReload")]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is 2)[(goto:"FenborzFinale")]
(set:$lastCarriage to "Botanical")
(if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[
(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)","(set:$variationTrain to 2)")
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[He actually jumps when he sees you, and even his robes fail to hide the surprise as they billow out. Still, it seems like he's already made his decision even before spotting you, as the rifle is pointed upward. The only thing he does is put his hands on it, and it fires with a //''BANG''// that scares the clockwork animals away with whirring and clicking gears alike.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[He actually jumps when he sees you, and even his robes fail to hide the surprise as they billow out. Still, it seems like he's already made his decision even before spotting you, as the rifle is pointed downward. The only thing he does is put his hands on it, and it fires with a //''BANG''// that scares the clockwork animals away with whirring and clicking gears alike.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
]
(elseif:$fenborzPhase is 2)[You knew that the lack of a 'BANG' would hamper your ability to gather information about Fenborz' shooting, but it's only now that you see just how much you missed. Fenborz has already been busy shooting, his continuous barrage of darts zooming toward the ceiling on your right. Whatever he's planning clearly isn't finished, however, and you make use of the distraction to speed right over the bridge. You realize that he's specifically aiming for an area past the bridge anyway, so you're forced to consider your surroundings.<br><br>
The main path stretches out before you, flanked by two glades. The glades to the left and right are nearly identical to eachother, the main difference being that the former has a massive statue. Your first thought is that it's of a cougar, one of the few animals that could survive in the mountainous reaches of Wevendh, especially now that the dragons are gone. However, you note that it is prominently spotted, in sharp contrast to the sand-colored cats that roam your domain. It stands atop a short pedestal, making it rise even higher.<br><br>
Behind the statue and similarly reflected on the right side, there are rows upon rows of tilled dirt, upon which grow particularly large cabbages. They are reminiscent of those found in Agerhaerst, but the spacing of the rows and the too-perfect arrangement of their leaves clues you in to their real purpose. Fenborz thought it fit to make ornamental vegetables, of all things. Perhaps it's his way of showing appreciation to Agerhaerst. (if:$endAgerhaerst is false)[A grim expression falls over you. You still have to deal with them.]<br><br>
The ominous creaking of metal serves as your only warning, and you'd rather make it out of the carriage . So before whatever his plan in comes to fruition, you...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]
]
}As you enter the library carriage, you find easy cover behind one of the many towering bookshelves. You realize very quickly that this carriage is quite unlike the others, as your gaze is drawn upward. There's an entire floor up above you where the ceiling would normally be.
The second floor runs along the wall's perimeter, a square-shaped gap in the middle allowing you to see through to it. The gap is bordered by a delicate, wrought-iron railing adorned with filigree, allowing those on the upper level to, similarly, look down upon the ground floor without falling over.
Tall, arched windows with intricate stained glass provide both levels with ample natural light and offer breathtaking views of the passing cityscape. Small reading nooks are strategically placed along the second floor's edge, each equipped with a comfortable chair and a small table, creating private alcoves for those who seek solitude while enjoying the literary treasures of the library carriage. There is a particularly tall bookcase much of its width having gone to its height instead. Metallic multi-tiered rods placed strategically on the floor you're standing on support the floor above.
Next, taking good stock of the floor you can actually reasonably access, you see that the walls are lined with tall, intricately carved wooden bookshelves, each crammed with leather-bound tomes and ancient manuscripts. The bookshelves all have a distinctive warm, dark red hue.
Rows of plush, high-backed armchairs with brass accents extend all the way from the right wall into the center, inviting passengers to sit and read. The further to the right, the more furniture is placed, and the more complex their arrangement becomes. You spot a small mana-electricity converter crackling a distinctive bright blue even in the midst of natural light and the glow of chandeliers. It's in the middle, probably powering all the lights in this extra-big carriage. The section of shelves to the left of the armchairs are particularly heavy, and have built-in supports to prevent them from toppling over despite the train's motions.
Elaborate rugs cover the polished wooden floor, not only under the armchairs but in areas of high traffic. Underneath both sides of the second floor, ornate brass chandeliers adorn the ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow on the walking areas below.
You briefly consider looking for a way out on the second floor, but even supposing you aren't immediately blown off by the wind, you have no idea if you'd be able to get inside again. (if:$fenborzPhase is 2)[Doubly so now that Fenborz has three different ways of attacking you should you happen to find a way back in.] With that in mind, you breathe in the books' hint of vanilla scent before starting your determined run once more.
{(if:$fenborzHealth is 9)[(goto:"FenborzReload")]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is 2)[(goto:"FenborzFinale")]
(set:$lastCarriage to "Library")
(if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[
(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)","(set:$variationTrain to 2)")
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[Of course, the person who designed the train in the first place didn't need to take all that time to digest where you are. He's already poised and at the ready, his rifle aimed dead-center. Despite this, he allows you to make it almost to the middle of the carriage before firing, the //''BANG''// jostling books within their shelves.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[Of course, the person who designed the train in the first place didn't need to take all that time to digest where you are. He's already poised and at the ready, his rifle aimed almost at the second floor. Despite this, he allows you to make it almost to the middle of the carriage before firing, the //''BANG''// jostling books within their shelves.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
]
(elseif:$fenborzPhase is 2)[The first thing you see, just seconds after leaving the solid bookshelves for open air, is Fenborz spinning the dial on his weapon. The very next thing is him firing.<br><br>
You nearly stop running at the sheer suddenness of the attack, but you force yourself to move. Each step you take brings you back into focus and helps you think. From the ease with which Fenborz fired, you know he wasn't aiming for you- only using you as a timepiece. You estimate that the darts will arrive at exactly the moment you reach the middle. Rapidly approaching said middle, you...
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]
]
}You find yourself in the mapping carriage, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the central feature of the room: a massive round table covered entirely by an intricate map detailing Arcgarde's complex rail lines. The map's surface is an intricate web of copper lines, depicting every railway track in the city with astonishing precision.
Without much vertical cover, you're forced to duck behind a low cabinet to continue observing the carriage. The central round table is surrounded by rather awkward-looking seats that would be entirely uncomfortable if they weren't lavishly cushioned. The table's surface gleams with a polished finish, and its copper inlay sparkles under the warm ambient lighting. Alongside the table's left, you spot a small collection of railway lanterns, each bearing the insignia of different rail companies that stake their claim in the city. They all have flames flickering inside.
Around the room, you notice other maps and tables scattered about, some displaying regional maps, while others remain rolled up and neatly stored on shelves along the left side. A glass display cabinet on the right showcases a fascinating array of intricate tools and compasses used by cartographers in their craft. An antique globe, rendered in exquisite detail, occupies a prominent position in the cabinet, although you can tell even from here that it's lacking the nations of the Distant West.
On the same side as the display cabinet but further down, you spot a curious workstation fitted with highly-specialized equipment, its purpose outside of some connection to mapmaking shrouded in mystery. Needle-like arms dance across the machine's surface, engaging in a mechanical ballet reminiscent of a piano's keys, tapping onto a copper plate. The room hums with the soft, rhythmic ticking of a large wall clock hung above the workstation.
Locking all the details in your mind as best you can, you run and hope that Fenborz doesn't devise something too complex. {(if:$fenborzPhase is 1)[To your luck, it seems that Fenborz is overwhelmed himself, as he stands noticeably away from his rifle, which doesn't seem to have been pointed in any meaningful way. It's only when he realizes that you're ripping down the carriage's length that he makes a split-second decision.<br><br>
(if:$fenborzHealth is 9)[(goto:"FenborzReload")]
(elseif:$fenborzHealth is 2)[(goto:"FenborzFinale")]
(set:$lastCarriage to "Mapping")
(either:"(set:$variationTrain to 1)","(set:$variationTrain to 2)")
(if:$variationTrain is 1)[He flicks the rifle so it's pointed toward the center table. It's not pointed directly at the table, really, but you simply don't have the time to trace the flight path completely. You try to clear the carriage entirely while he's distracted making last-minute adjustments, but you're only nearing the center when he fires. The //''BANG''// forces you to think about your next course of action.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
(elseif:$variationTrain is 2)[He flicks the rifle so it's pointed toward the right. You simply don't have the time to trace the flight path completely, but you can establish what he's //not// aiming at- the workstation. You try to clear the carriage entirely while he's distracted making last-minute adjustments, but you're only nearing the center when he fires. The //''BANG''// forces you to think about your next course of action.<br><br>
You...<br><br>
(link:"Run to the left.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Run to the right.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]<br>
(link:"Keep going.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator")]
]
]
(elseif:$fenborzPhase is 2)[Unfortunately, his plan starts precisely when you come out from cover. He drops down suddenly, and for a split second you're sure that he's going to shoot your feet. The decision of whether to jump or not stops you right in your tracks.<br><br>
The time you wasted standing means that the darts hit their actual targets before you can even really move. The actual motion of the darts catches you completely off-guard, as they sink into the frame around the large wall clock. The clock pops free of its damaged frame and crashes directly into the workstation.<br><br>
You watch, confused, as even the dust from the crushing fails to hit you. The clock and workstation alike are simply too small for that. Then you hear it. The sound of glass shifting well past the point it stopped falling the first time. Needle-like arms burst from the rubble, sending shards clinking away. No longer confined to their mechanism, they rise slowly, mechanically. For a time it stands perfectly still, but when the motion of the train moves the pile of shards it's on, it goes berserk.<br><br>
The arms stab rapidly at the shards, shattering them with startling precision. Just through natural motion it skitters forward and, finding itself no longer interested in the now-stilling glass for some reason, seemingly deactivates again. Its movement and legs, though lacking a proper body, reminds you heavily of a spider.<br><br>
Well, you still have to do something. You...<br><br>
(link:"Jump.")[(set:$movementChoice to 1)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Keep running.")[(set:$movementChoice to 2)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]<br>
(link:"Stand still.")[(set:$movementChoice to 3)(goto:"FenborzAttackCalculator2")]
]
}You awake with a start to the sight of Fenborz' masked face as he leans over you, bright green eyes sparkling with boundless curiosity. You yank your limbs toward you reflexively, and though you have enough slack to do so, you can feel cold iron cutting into your wrists and ankles. Manacles.
Looking around to assess your situation, the first thing you note is the bed you're on. Not only is it surprisingly comfortable, it seems to be the exact one from the room you stayed in. Its wooden elements have been reinforced with metal plating, however, so it's impossible to wear down. Casting your gaze further, you also recognize your surroundings at large. It's Fenborz' workshop, but he's cleared anything you could possibly grab far, far away from you. Smart idea, you begrudingly admit, as you look at your captor once more.
You're hyper aware of Fenborz' lack of robes, his sleeveless skintight vest in particular showing off the surprisingly thick, corded muscles of his arms. Despite yourself, you reach out and run your fingers over them. Fenborz' eyes crinkle in a way that you can tell that he's smiling. You yank your fingers back, trying to remind yourself that you're a prisoner completely at the whims of the man who defeated you.
Straightening up, you try to regain all of the dignity the King of Wevendh should have, regardless of defeat. "It's clear that you are the victor, and you saw it fit to keep me alive. For what purpose?"
Fenborz tilts his head. "Voice a little hoarse. Unclear whether it's from Rifle Compound P-dash-zero-dash-two or simple exertion. Reminder to self: pull up audio logs from the meeting room to set baseline. Hydrate subject to examine mitigating effect."
Resisting the urge to pout at his blatant ignoral, you cross your arms as best you can around your bulky manacles.
"So, little king," he continues, running his fingers over your muscles in a mirror to what you did just earlier. "You had horrid, horrid intentions for me, but I'm not the kind of person who is fond of the sword by any means. That being said, though, I can't just house a captive. They have to... provide. And there's just the perfect role for you to take, as blunt as it may be; experimentation slave."
[[You don't have a choice.->FenborzBadEnd3-2]]The first few days are agony.
Not because of anything Fenborz does, but what he doesn't do. If it weren't for the manacles or the squadron of automated guards constantly supervising you, your treatment would be akin to a guest's- almost like you hadn't just tried to debilitate Fenborz and take over his nation. He feeds you, bathes you, even regales you with stories of what's happening in Chromore, peppered with added assurances that he hasn't done anything to Wevendh.
But you know better than to relax. You're his experimentation slave.
And, one night, you're vindicated for your caution.
Fenborz goes through a rigorous routine of examining your body, the procedure exactly that of a thorough doctor. But then the gloves come off, and he's focused solely on areas that he assures you fascinate him. He pinches, pulls, flicks, even rolls the nubs of your nipples between his fingers. You're not usually so sensitive, but with your arms chained high above your head, the first sense of stimulation you've had for a long time seems to have been amplified tenfold.
You stifle your sounds, only for Fenborz to give a particularly nasty flick to your right nipple. He looks cross for a second, only for his eyes to soften behind his mask once more. "I was going to tell you not to hide your sounds, but then I realized that's data I should be collecting anyway- you'll not be stifling them for much longer anyway."
Fenborz repeats the procedure with your genitals, constantly recording his thoughts as he twists his hand around your slowly-thickening shaft. When he rubs his thumb across the head, you jolt and try to press your legs together, stopped by the manacles holding you. Fenborz tuts and rubs your glans over and over again until you're fully hard, dribbling just a bit of pre onto his hand. To your frustration, however, Fenborz retreats and places the liquid into a tube of some sort before moving on completely.
This time it's your asshole, and Fenborz somehow takes even more time to fully examine it. It's almost like he's teasing you, the way he prods at your ring, swirls his finger around. You actually breathe a sigh of relief- and lust- when he finally enters you, the sole digit giving you some much-craved-for stimulation inside. Fenborz continues his agonizingly slow pace, however, noting everything he can to himself. He does this for the second and third fingers before you finally snap.
"Just fuck me already! I can't take it anymore!"
"Subject shows great arousal-"
"If you edge me any further, I'll go insane."
Fenborz pauses before driving his fingers deep inside you, and you let out a choked sob. Finally. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're finally going to cum after what feels like an eternity of not enough. Fenborz dutifully fingers you with one hand and starts stroking you with the other, making sure to rub your glans with his palm every chance he gets. It's not long at all when you're shooting, and you slump in your bonds. Finally... satisfied.
"Early termination of pre-orgasmic phase. Commence testing for post-orgasmic."
Your overstimulated mind fires back to life as Fenborz continues his assault even as pleas to stop tumble from your lips. Like a well-oiled machine, Fenborz' tan arms bulge with each precise movement he makes. He even steadies you with one hand 'to minimize variations,' as he says, but it only cements the reality of [[your new life as an experimentation slave->FenborzBadEnd3-3]].Over the next year, Fenborz put you through a series of tests and schemes designed to enhance pleasure and pain. What started as a simple inspection routine on your first day spiralled into a mindbending experience as Fenborz slowly attuned your body to be more sensitive all around. A simple pinch on your nipple has you desperately trying to pull your arms down, but they're always maddeningly high above your head, with no hope of ever covering them when Fenborz is examining you.
But that's not the worst part by a long shot. After a few months of natural sensitivity-shaping, Fenborz introduced you to new inventions. Sometimes they'd be clamps. They'd squeeze down torturously on your nipples and penis, but with the press of a button, electricity surges through them. You'd scream, the sensation so thoroughly muddled in your head that you don't know whether to cry or cum. Other times they'd be drugs, a single pill causing insatiable lust to course throughout your body. Even without manacles on you couldn't think of anything but stroking your cock and fingering your hole, and no matter how many times you came by yourself, it wasn't enough. You had to beg Fenborz to help.
And throughout it all, Fenborz would record his observations, repeating the experiments however many times he liked.
Then later came the real toys. After your hypersensitive form was perfected through drugs and electricity, Fenborz unveiled a variety of machines to maximize your pleasure.
One such device was an automatic fucking machine, which he'd designed specifically for you based on the data gathered from previous sessions. It was expertly calibrated to hit all of your sensitive spots in perfect rhythm, causing intense waves of ecstasy to wash over you each time it moved inside of you.
Another device he created was a vibrator specifically designed for your prostate. This small yet powerful toy was able to reach exactly the right spot every single time, sending shockwaves through your body that made you arch up towards him in uncontrollable desire.
Throughout it all, Fenborz watched with clinical detachment, adjusting the settings and angles of each device as needed. He was meticulous about his work, ensuring that every session produced new data points and insights into your pleasure responses. But even amidst his scientific curiosity, there was a hint of something more—a subtle affection for you, despite your status as an experimental subject.
As dawn broke, Fenborz finally released you from the machine, allowing you to collapse onto the bed, spent but somehow still craving more. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he turned away, disappearing into the lab where he continued his work. You could feel the echo of his touch lingering against your skin, a reminder of the extraordinary pleasure you'd experienced under his care.
And then suddenly, one day, it all just... stopped.
After a particularly intense session, Fenborz wakes you up the next morning by stroking your hair. He partially lifts his mask, allowing you to see his smile- satisfied and oddly disappointed all at the same time.
"Well, my dear king," he said softly. "I've gathered enough data for a lifetime. If you'd like to return to Wevendh, I can arrange that now."
You could return? Once-strong memories of Wevendh fill your head, now little more than wisps that elicit vague positive feelings. It's the duty of the king to return. You know that as much. But...
But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, it hits you: without Fenborz's experiments and devices, life would be unbearable. You couldn't imagine a day without the pleasure he provided. How could you possibly survive with your body so thoroughly sensitized? You might cum your brains in full view of the court. No, that wouldn't do. That couldn't do at all.
What was supposed to be a polite refusal turns into a tear-ridden beg of jumbled words to stay, to continue the experiments, to be enslaved again. The sensations had simply become an integral part of who you are, and only Fenborz knows your body intimately enough to satisfy you anymore.
Fenborz looks at you with a hint of surprise, but also something akin to understanding.
"Very well," he says slowly, his voice full of consideration. "I suppose I could partake in a little bit more fun."
''Game Over.''
(link:"Retry Chromore.")[goto:"ChromoreCapitalEnter"]
(link:"Restart.")[(restart:)]"How could you-" Fenborz' voice crackles, not only due to the interphone but because of a surge of negative emotion. "//That's// why you were at Schanschirr? The audacity! The nerve! The- the- I can't even begin to explain it!"
He holds his head and stamps his feet. You let him do it; it's his time wasted, after all.
"I see now how gravely I have erred. Forget miscalculation. This is a problem with the entire premise. But no matter. I am no stranger to this. I am an inventor! I do not satisfy myself with the bridge before me! I burn it, and then build it anew!"
He grabs his robe and tosses it off of him, letting you see Fenborz properly for the first time. To put it simply, he's jacked. You would never have guessed that his arms would be so thickly corded with muscle, nor very proud of showing them off. And yet, they're the first things you see, the light brown contrasting greatly with the skintight vest they stick out from. The vest is a blue so dark it almost looks black, but it's just light enough that even from here, you can tell just how chiseled Fenborz' chest and stomach is.
That isn't to say that he's particularly tall or broad. He has a 'normal' frame, as vague as that term is, just absolutely packed with musculature. You assume that it's the same for his legs, since his trousers aren't nearly as tight as his vest is. They hang loosely, accented with yellow lightning bolts running down the legs. His pants and vest come together underneath a braided belt, upon which three gears proudly sit. Like the rest of his outfit, his boots are actually quite practical, just embellished with a gear pattern.
Frustratingly, he doesn't remove his mask, but the rest of his head is left bare. Where once his robe sat, tucked underneath the edges of the mask, dark blue hair now sprouts. The sides of his head are cut quite short. The series of neatly trimmed, closely cropped undercut layers create a contrast with the flowing upper portion, where his hair tumbles forward in spikes. His spiked hair has great volume, serving to even out the proportion.
Of course, Fenborz isn't just going to let you gawk at him.
He retrieves the small, ornate key from the side of his rifle. With a subtle click, he inserts the key into some concealed slot, and you can't help but hold your breath even as you're running. The rifle begins to transform before your very eyes.
The weapon seems to come alive, absorbing the very stand it rested on as if it were a greedy maw consuming its prey. Metal plates shift and interlock with astonishing precision, and the once sleek and slender rifle takes on an entirely new form. In a matter of seconds, it morphs into an entirely new weapon.
At its core, it boasts multiple tubes- five to be exact, arranged in a circular fashion. They are surrounded by a ring which strengthens the setup's resemblance to a wheel. These tubes, you note, are exactly like that of the rifle as it was before. There are just more of them. Pipes and hoses snake around the weapon's frame, but they're small and kept close to the sides with rings.
Its gravity-defying transformation over, it falls right into Fenborz' waiting arms. Although it's not nearly as light as the rifle's previous form, it's still more than light enough for Fenborz to move around with it.
"Congratulations. You're the only person aside from myself to have ever laid eyes on the Prototype Multimodal Telescopic Long-Range Rifle. I'm loathe to experiment with it in such... extreme circumstances, but I'm considering this a stress test." The tubes start to spin, slowly at first, but gradually pick up speed. "Sure, it may overheat from time to time, and the gears are prone to unnecessary grinding, but if there's something I've come to learn, it's this: my inventions are more reliable than any flesh. And you- you will go no further."
You pause, letting your guards get ahead of you right at the entrance to the next carriage. [[Time to see what Fenborz' invention can actually do.->FenborzReload3]]Your guards valiantly charge forth while you stand in the doorway, content to watch. Fortunately, Fenborz seems far too preoccupied with the guards you hijacked to aim anywhere near you.
A dart lodges in the head of the guard at the very front. The familiar 'BANG' is gone, making it harder to predict his shots. The guards continues stubbornly onward despite suffering a wound that would have outright killed you, but even it stops when four more pierce into its body in an arc. It falls backward, the darts that crunched into its body reminiscent of a sash.
Its unfeeling brethren run right past it, or in one case, right over it. Fenborz' movements, in return are controlled and measured. When he swings his rifle out in an arc in front of him, each dart comes out with perfect spacing, crunching into the heads of an entire line of guards. He gets down on one knee and repeats the exact same motion, and there is once again a set of crunches and a set of downed machines.
You curse inwardly as you walk further into the carriage and examine the innings of the fallen guards nearest to you. He must have had at least some part to play in their design. Or it could be entirely his project. Either way, he's taking out the most densely packed collections of wirings in the guards, not only with startling accuracy, but utilizing small, almost imperceptible gaps between the guards' armored plating.
The guards are surprisingly smart, however. They start varying their approach greatly, their orderly march broken up into a formation with one goal: slow his effective shooting time as much as possible.
Fenborz hums and actually stops shooting to fiddle with dials on the top of the rifle. He takes a deep breath- so deep that you can literally see his shoulders rising as he does so- before really starting to //move//.
He runs to the right, his initial spray of darts completely missing their targets as the guards adopt evasive maneuvers. He disappears behind a wall, and for once you understand the gnawing anticipation. If only you had a long-range weapon of your own, maybe you could've taken Fenborz out... or probably not, seeing what he does next.
He suddenly reappears, fully rolling across the floor before coming to a stop. The resulting roll on his own darts is just enough to throw off the maneuvers somewhat, although naturally, some emerge without a scratch. It's then that the dial that Fenborz did something to starts spinning. The next volley of darts doesn't come out in a single stream, but rather in a burst of five. It nails the furthest guard easily. Now that he's back to firing, the tubes are spinning again, leading to spirals of death that come faster and harder to dodge than usual.
The guards struggle to adapt to this at all, especially with their quickly dwindling numbers. Finally, they decide one last-ditch effort- they line up one behind each other and simply rush forward, using each other as shields. Fenborz keeps shooting and, although guards continue to fall, the continued spinning means that the darts start to fling wide.
Fenborz curses and stops the dial with his hand. He yanks what you assume must be a lever, well-hidden among one of the bundles of wires running along its side. He's back to shooting one dart behind each other, but you notice something off about these ones in particular. They have little wisps of fire behind them, reminiscent of fireworks. You watch with rapt attention as the first dart pierces through the guard at the head of the line, expecting an explosion.
There is no pop of color or bang, just the sound of the dart crashing through internal components. And then another. And then another. And then- danger senses blaring, you jump and roll to the side. The dart pierces through the last guard and right through where you were just standing. The remaining four fly through just as the first one did, but when you peek out to see where the next terrifying volley is coming next, it doesn't come. Fenborz is busy wiping the scorch marks off of the end of hs rifle.
You look around at the sheer carnage that litters the carriage. Every single guard that was at your disposal has been disposed of, and you're facing down Fenborz at his most dangerous. You glance backward. At least you cleared an additional three carriages, including the one you're in, since you last ran. Furthermore, from what you can see of the carriages before you, they're shorter than the ones at the back.
You tilt your head side to side, letting the tension off through the sharp //crack//s. Bouncing on your heels, you let a smile play over your features. Honestly? Fenborz should have done this a lot earlier. After all, there are only five more carriages to go. Flying over the last few guards, you rush into (link:"the first")[(set:$fenborzHealth to 5)(set:$fenborzPhase to 2)(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] of the final five.You are facing down Fenborz Hsuefte, the Hidden Coefficient, who wields the Prototype Multimodal Telescopic Long-Range Rifle.
{
(if:$lastCarriage is "Kitchen")[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Your body instinctively lurches toward the biggest piece of cover, and you allow it, jumping behind the bulky machine as it spews out more dark liquid into cups. You watch as the first dart whizzes past you, then the second, then the third- and it's only then that you realize that they have wisps of fire behind them. Shooting your glance to the first dart, you watch as various appliances are pierced clean through.<br><br>Any plans of running out are stopped when the fourth dart flies, walling you in just long enough for the fifth to start is sickening crunch through the machine, which spurts and splatters with electricity and the bitter scent of smoke and spilled liquid.<br><br>By the time the fourth dart fully passes you, sharp pain spreads through your shoulder. Your mind, flailing to provide an appropriate thought in such a short amount of time, supplies you with 'at least it feels like it didn't break any bones.' Darkness curls around the edge of your vision, and when you reach out to touch the dart, it's still far too hot for you to grasp. The last thing you think before [[blacking out->FenborzBadEnd3]] is a loud curse.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Your body instinctively lurches toward the biggest piece of cover, and you allow it, jumping toward the bulky machine as it spews out more dark liquid into cups. What actually happens is your hip clipping the corner of one of the tables, completely ruining your trajectory and taking you down to the floor.<br><br>The darts fly over you, each one with a trail of fire behind them. Due to the open nature of the carriage (probably to prevent chefs from running into each other) they don't hit anything until far past your current position. The sound of metal upon metal jolts you and grabs your attention.<br><br>What you thought was the perfect cover spurts dark liquid crackling with electricity out of its side- scratch that, both of its sides, as the dart pierces through. Even from the floor you can see that it's a completely clean puncture.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you rise, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to do defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. The spice from the food tickles the back of your throat like fire waiting to be spewed. Rather than stand up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and [[enter the next->DiningCarriage]] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Thinking quickly, you grab a particularly heavy appliance and throw it right into the flight path of the dart in the center, following close behind afterward. You watch, first in satisfaction, when metal meets metal and the dart hits the appliance. Satisfaction turns to horror when, instead of being swatted out of the air by the much heavier machine, the dart stubbornly continues on, piercing straight through.<br><br>You desperately try to turn your body, hoping that the dart might even snag on your clothes, but its overwhelming speed leads to it lodging right into one of your ribs. You cry out in pain, and you try to blink it out of your blurry vision. However, all that that does is help the darkness curling around the edges seize the center.<br><br>[[You pass out->FenborzBadEnd3]] just as Fenborz mutters something about fixing your rib.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Thinking quickly, you grab a particularly heavy appliance and throw it right into the flight path of the dart in the center. You start to rise in the hopes of following it, but your foot slips on a piece of wet flooring. You stay on the floor, glaring at the nearby sink.<br><br>You're forced to look forward when the appliance crashes to the floor in front of you, a clean hole carved right through it. You're not stupid enough to touch it, wary of electricity and the purple liquid the dart left in its wake lining the hole. However, just from eyeing it, you can tell that you could put two or even three fingers in.Flinging your gaze backward, you see all five darts continuing to fly, piercing everything in their path until their little flame trails peter out. They clatter to the floor, looking perfectly innocuous compared to the destruction they left in their wake.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you rise, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. The spice from the food tickles the back of your throat like fire waiting to be spewed. Rather than stand up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and [[enter the next->DiningCarriage]] with a half-crazed smile.
]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Almost moving via sheer instinct, you transition from run to leap with perfect grace. As soon as your foot hits the countertop, the other brings you to a full sprint once more. Weaving through the appliances as they go through their functions, you realize just how perfectly calculated Fenborz’ volley is. The first dart, the one heading right for you, is flying so close to the countertops that it’s basically skimming it.<br><br>It would be incredibly difficult to avoid due to its speed and angle- if it weren’t for the fact that you were already on a level above it. You simply move your foot out of the way, and the dart happily continues on its straight path. Completely ignoring the sound of metal clanking and crunching behind you, you run along the counters until you’re absolutely sure the middle aisle is free.<br><br>You drop off the counter, a bit more carefully than you did jumping onto it, knowing full well Fenborz would be too busy cleaning his weapon to shoot you again. That exact sight coming into view makes a smirk play on your lips as you leave the humid kitchen carriage behind for [[the next.->DiningCarriage]]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Dining")[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Wary of Fenborz’ ability for rapid fire, you leap onto the left side’s row of tables to afford yourself more flexibility. The tables clank noisily underneath your legs’ furious pace, and you’re sure you’ve broken a plate or two. Still, you keep your eyes on the darts that enter the carriage.<br><br>Having come out of Fenborz’ rifle side by side, the darts had only minor spin and distance between them. That mostly held true as they passed through the carriages between the two of you as well, so although they drifted apart somewhat, they fit through your carriage’s doorway in the center. But the darts don’t stay in the center for very long. They go wide, unfurling almost like a flower in bloom. As beautiful an image as that is in your head, that means it’s incredibly hard to actually figure out their flight path- even though they’re spreading out toward you.<br><br>You tense up, ready to jump off to the center aisle, but it’s at that point exactly that a sting goes through your calf. You look down at the gleaming dart sticking out of it. The mere sight of it hastens the rush of darkness into your vision. You do end up in the center aisle like you planned, but not in the way you hoped for, and certainly [[not conscious.->FenborzBadEnd3]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Wary of Fenborz’ ability for rapid fire, you leap onto the left side’s row of tables to afford yourself more flexibility. The tables clank noisily underneath your legs’ furious pace, and you’re sure you’ve broken a plate or two. Still, you keep your eyes on the darts that enter the carriage.<br><br>This may not have been the best idea, since your boot catches on the dining cloth you've been trampling all over. When your other boot hooks on a candelabra, there's nothing you can do except prepare for a tumble. Of course, that's more easily said than done, and your face doesn't appreciate the impact nor the burn of friction.<br><br>The darts enter the carriage in something resembling a loose bundle. Your foot hits metal when you move it, leading you to curse the candelabra that remained stubbornly hooked on the fabric of your trousers. You reach toward it even as your heart drops, knowing full well that one- or even two- may sink into your flesh any second.<br><br>With your heart pounding in your ears, you free the candelabra from its snag and prepare to do a split-second dodge. However, you don’t need to. The darts didn’t stay in the center for very long, instead splaying wide and unfurling almost like a flower in bloom. The way they roll means it’s incredibly hard to trace their flight path, but there’s no point in doing so with such a huge gap in the center, which you just so happened to be in<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you rise, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to do defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. The way dragons feast is violent and self-serving, unrestrained by any etiquette or filigree. Rather than stand up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and(link:" enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[Wary of Fenborz’ ability for rapid fire, you leap onto the right side’s row of tables to afford yourself more flexibility. The tables clank noisily underneath your legs’ furious pace, and you’re sure you’ve broken a plate or two. Still, you keep your eyes on the darts that enter the carriage.<br><br>Having come out of Fenborz’ rifle side by side, the darts had only minor spin and distance between them. That mostly held true as they passed through the carriages between the two of you as well, so although they drifted apart somewhat, they fit through your carriage’s doorway in the center. But the darts don’t stay in the center for very long. They go wide, unfurling almost like a flower in bloom. As beautiful an image as that is in your head, that means it’s incredibly hard to actually figure out their flight path- even though they’re spreading out toward you.<br><br>You tense up, ready to jump off to the center aisle, but it’s at that point exactly that a sting goes through your calf. You look down at the gleaming dart sticking out of it. The mere sight of it hastens the rush of darkness into your vision. You do end up in the center aisle like you planned, but not in the way you hoped for, and certainly [[not conscious.->FenborzBadEnd3]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Wary of Fenborz’ ability for rapid fire, you leap onto the right side’s row of tables to afford yourself more flexibility. The tables clank noisily underneath your legs’ furious pace, and you’re sure you’ve broken a plate or two. Still, you keep your eyes on the darts that enter the carriage.<br><br>This may not have been the best idea, since your boot catches on the dining cloth you've been trampling all over. When your other boot hooks on a candelabra, there's nothing you can do except prepare for a tumble. Of course, that's more easily said than done, and your face doesn't appreciate the impact nor the burn of friction.<br><br>The darts enter the carriage in something resembling a loose bundle. Your foot hits metal when you move it, leading you to curse the candelabra that remained stubbornly hooked on the fabric of your trousers. You reach toward it even as your heart drops, knowing full well that one- or even two- may sink into your flesh any second.<br><br>With your heart pounding in your ears, you free the candelabra from its snag and prepare to do a split-second dodge. However, you don’t need to. The darts didn’t stay in the center for very long, instead splaying wide and unfurling almost like a flower in bloom. The way they roll means it’s incredibly hard to trace their flight path, but there’s no point in doing so with such a huge gap in the center, which you just so happened to be in<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you rise, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. The way dragons feast is violent and self-serving, unrestrained by any etiquette or filigree. Rather than stand up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Your eyes widen with recognition, and you can’t stop the cruel glimmer settling over them. It’s simply the satisfaction that comes with seeing an enemy’s attack and knowing the exact way to slip through it. Ignoring your body’s natural instinct to get as far away from the threat coming right at you, you start running right at it. Careful pacing means that you’re not full-on sprinting just yet. You’re just closing the distance until- there it is!<br><br>Having come out of Fenborz’ rifle side by side, the darts had only minor spin and distance between them. That mostly held true as they passed through the carriages between the two of you as well, so although they drifted apart somewhat, they fit through your carriage’s doorway in the center. But the darts don’t stay in the center for very long. They go wide, unfurling almost like a flower in bloom.<br><br>You come to a complete stop, once again biting back the urge to flinch or make one wrong move. The stillness you exhibit rewards you with two darts on each side and one above you flying right past you. Cranking your effort back to its highest setting, you don’t even look back as (link:"you leave the glamorous dining carriage for the next.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Botanical")[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[Well, of course you’re going to take the path with the huge statue on it. It’s not even the fact that it can block just about anything Fenborz can shoot at you. It’s the fact that it’s the farthest thing from the almost appalling number of darts stuck in the piping of the ceiling on the side opposite. The darts are roughly in the shape of a circle and, as scary-looking as it is, it wouldn’t normally be a problem because their own needles are plugging up the holes. The problem is Fenborz shooting at the mass of darts at high speed, jostling them about, weakening the metal or even starting to pry it apart.<br><br>Even when the metal groans and gives way, letting off a monstrous amount of water, you keep running. You can hear the wave slosh against the side of the statue, failing even to reach the top of the pedestal. The only time your feet even touch the water is when you emerge from the left and onto the far muddier path on the center. It doesn’t really matter, though, since you’re leaving the now water-logged carriage behind for (link:"the next.")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[If you were facing the rifle from before you’d pick the statue in a heartbeat. Its sheer size would beat out just about anything from a one or two-shot output, after all. But with Fenborz’ rapid fire capabilities staring you in the face, all you see now is a massive time sink.. The same problem exists on the main path. If you run down it, you run the risk of being utterly walled in, making only the right path a viable option- something you know Fenborz would be smart enough to consider, given the unorthodox shooting style you’ve dodged before. That leaves only the side you’re currently running through, careful not to snag your feet on the bulbous cabbages.<br><br>You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you completely forget that the horrible creaking sound is now coming from right above you, and you look up only to be hit with a blast of water. As you flail around in the pool of water that has just formed suddenly under your feet and all around you, you catch a glimpse of the ceiling. The onslaught of darts hadn’t just punctured the pipes,they ripped a gaping hole in them.<br><br>Falling backward into the stream could mean death, not just defeat, so you fight your way forward through the deluge using all of your strength. The flow is so fast that you’re moved anyway, though thankfully not backward- to the side, where you end up having to hang on to the statue for dear life anyway. You’re far too wet to try to hoist yourself up onto the statue’s base, so all you can do is wait for the supply to dry up.<br><br>It feels like an eternity, but finally, the pipes’ supply dries up.The iron grip you had your hands in finally relaxes, and you shiver, trying not to fold under the sudden weight of your utterly-soaked garments. You don’t even move, really, when a dart hits your stomach. You drop down to one knee, the exhaustion hitting you more than the dart’s sleep-inducing agent. When you fall to the side, the cool water only comes up to your cheek. It’s… pleasant enough to [[fall asleep->FenborzBadEnd3]] in.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)If you were facing the rifle from before you’d pick the statue in a heartbeat. Its sheer size would beat out just about anything from a one or two-shot output, after all. But with Fenborz’ rapid fire capabilities staring you in the face, all you see now is a massive time sink.. The same problem exists on the main path. If you run down it, you run the risk of being utterly walled in, making only the right path a viable option- something you know Fenborz would be smart enough to consider, given the unorthodox shooting style you’ve dodged before. That leaves only the side you’re currently running through.<br><br>Lost in your thoughts, you fail to remember the cabbages in your path. Your foot runs into the rooted vegetable and, although you kick it up, it ruins your stride completely, sending you tumbling after it. The impact is painful, but more importantly, it clears your thoughts. With a silenced mind you hear the increasingly loud creaking, and you look up to find its source.<br><br>There’s a ridiculous number of darts stuck into the piping, roughly in the shape of a circle. As scary-looking as it is, this wouldn’t normally be a problem since they’re plugging up their own holes. The problem is Fenborz shooting at the mass of darts at high speed, jostling them about, weakening the metal or even starting to pry it apart. Seeing all this, you immediately abandon your plan and head right for the statue.<br><br>You hear the metal finally giving way behind you, followed by a roaring torrent of water. You desperately jump onto the pedestal of the statue, clinging onto the cat’s legs for dear life. The water chasing you hits the pedestal with a threatening slosh and, although a few droplets get on you, it never rises enough to get anywhere near. Cabbages, torn from their roots, spin uncontrollably as they’re swept away. It all drains toward the stream.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you gaze from the higher ground, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. Dragons are themselves a part of nature, the terrible and destructive power representative of an apex predator. Rather than jumping down, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from the air. Abandoning the muddy main path, you tear down the much dryer left. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[If you were facing the rifle from before you’d pick the statue in a heartbeat. Its sheer size would beat out just about anything from a one or two-shot output, after all. But with Fenborz’ rapid fire capabilities staring you in the face, all you see now is a massive time sink. The right side is also problematic. Yes, there are cabbages that you’d have to run over, but it’s not //that// time-consuming. No, the real problem is the fact that it’s the side Fenborz was and is still currently shooting at, not to mention the horrible creaking coming from the ceiling there.That leaves only the center path, which you’re busy running down.<br><br>You make a respectable distance when the creaking comes to its loudest point, at which point you hear the rush of water. You press on, hoping to outrun it, but it only grows louder. It’s exactly when you look over to the side that the wave hits you. The sudden force knocks out your legs, and while you’re flailing, you catch a glimpse of the ceiling. The onslaught of darts hadn’t just punctured the pipes,they ripped a gaping hole in them.<br><br>Falling backward into the stream could mean death, not just defeat, so you fight your way forward through the deluge using all of your strength. The flow is so fast that you’re moved anyway, though thankfully not backward- to the side, where you end up having to hang on to the statue for dear life anyway. You’re far too wet to try to hoist yourself up onto the statue’s base, so all you can do is wait for the supply to dry up.<br><br>It feels like an eternity, but finally, the pipes’ supply dries up.The iron grip you had your hands in finally relaxes, and you shiver, trying not to fold under the sudden weight of your utterly-soaked garments. You don’t even move, really, when a dart hits your stomach. You drop down to one knee, the exhaustion hitting you more than the dart’s sleep-inducing agent. When you fall to the side, the cool water only comes up to your cheek. It’s… pleasant enough to [[fall asleep->FenborzBadEnd3]] in.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)If you were facing the rifle from before you’d pick the statue in a heartbeat. Its sheer size would beat out just about anything from a one or two-shot output, after all. But with Fenborz’ rapid fire capabilities staring you in the face, all you see now is a massive time sink. The right side is also problematic. Yes, there are cabbages that you’d have to run over, but it’s not //that// time-consuming. No, the real problem is the fact that it’s the side Fenborz was and is still currently shooting at, not to mention the horrible creaking coming from the ceiling there.That leaves only the center path, which you’re busy running down.<br><br>Lost in your thoughts, you fail to notice a knobbed root in your path. Your foot runs into the hard root and, although you kick it up, it ruins your stride completely, sending you tumbling after it. The impact is painful, but more importantly, it clears your thoughts. With a silenced mind you hear the increasingly loud creaking, and you look up and to the right to find its source.<br><br>There’s a ridiculous number of darts stuck into the piping, roughly in the shape of a circle. As scary-looking as it is, this wouldn’t normally be a problem since they’re plugging up their own holes. The problem is Fenborz shooting at the mass of darts at high speed, jostling them about, weakening the metal or even starting to pry it apart. Seeing all this, you immediately abandon your plan and head to the statue.<br><br>You hear the metal finally giving way, followed by a roaring torrent of water. You jump onto the pedestal of the statue, clinging onto the cat’s legs to be safe. The water chasing you hits the pedestal with a threatening slosh and, although a few droplets get on you, it never rises enough to get anywhere near. Cabbages, torn from their roots, spin uncontrollably as they’re swept away. It all drains toward the stream.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you gaze from the higher ground, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. Dragons are themselves a part of nature, the terrible and destructive power representative of an apex predator. Rather than jumping down, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from the air. Abandoning the muddy main path, you tear down the much dryer left. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"KitchenCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Observation")[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Despite just how prevalent the presence of glass is in this carriage, a twinge of intuition tells you that that’s not what Fenborz is aiming for at all. There are dozens of ways that Fenborz could shatter the glass, each more creative than the last, and yet none of them necessitated leaving the ground for it. So, trusting your most basic instinct, you sprint down the left, hoping that the light is one of salvation and not a dramatic spotlight.<br><br>You watch as the darts enter the carriage, far above your head. You stifle the urge to brace yourself as they come dangerously close to the glass, the visceral sight of possible danger conflicting with your own knowledge that their flight path is too low to ever do so.<br><br>It pays off. The darts pierce right through the metal rails supporting the veranda, each covering a different spot, ensuring complete and utter failure. The rails have barely started to fall off when the entire veranda groans, a deep, guttural sound almost like a massive animal. Then, all at once, the veranda falls. The resulting impact shakes the carriage so badly you think it might derail, but thankfully, the train is made of tougher stuff than that.<br><br>Wincing at the idea of what bone-crushing situation you could have found yourself in if you had made the wrong decision, you leave that avoided possibility and the damaged veranda behind for (link:"the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","KitchenCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The easily-shattered ceiling looms high above you, so you abandon your tiny piece of cover for the much bigger, more secure one that would doubtlessly catch any shards should the glass shatter. As you run underneath it, you think back to the way Fenborz shot. If he wanted to break the glass, he didn’t need to jump to do so. He didn’t angle his gun upward, either.<br><br>The darts fly into the carriage in the same neat stream that Fenborz shot them in. Their angle is nearly completely straight, and there’s no chance of them ever hitting the glass. What they can hit, however-<br><br>There’s a sickening crunch as the darts fly through the first metal rail. Seeing your life flash before your eyes, you throw yourself to the side. With each heart-pounding second you swear that this is it, that you’re going to die via a falling veranda. Not the most gracious death, nor one a king is expected to die.<br><br>You hit the floor and pray that you’ve made it out. You don’t need to look to know that the veranda has completely detached with the failure of the second rail. It crashes down, directly on top of your legs.<br><br>You howl in pain, tears already streaming from your eyes as you fight to free your legs from the crushing weight. The pain is too all-encompassing, however, and you can feel your mind and body going limp. The last thing you hear before [[you black out->FenborzBadEnd3]] is Fenborz talking about sedating you until he can fix your bones.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The easily-shattered ceiling looms high above you, so you abandon your tiny piece of cover for the much bigger, more secure one that would doubtlessly catch any shards should the glass shatter. As you run underneath it, you think back to the way Fenborz shot. If he wanted to break the glass, he didn’t need to jump to do so. He didn’t angle his gun upward, either.<br><br>The darts fly into the carriage in the same neat stream that Fenborz shot them in. Their angle is nearly completely straight, and there’s no chance of them ever hitting the glass. What they can hit, however-<br><br>There’s a sickening crunch as the darts fly through the first metal rail. Seeing your life flash before your eyes, you throw yourself to the side. With each heart-pounding second you swear that this is it, that you’re going to die via a falling veranda. Not the most gracious death, nor one a king is expected to die.<br><br>You hit the floor sliding, and though you hiss at the ensuing carpet burn, you make it a good distance away. You don’t need to look to know that the veranda has completely detached with the failure of the second rail. As it crashes down, you squeeze your eyes shut, convinced that you’ve somehow died. However, when you finally open them and glance behind you, you realize they were just a hair away from crushing your legs.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. as you shake the nerves from your body. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. Dragons were equally beautiful and terrifying in their visage, and in their absence, the role falls to you. Rather than standing up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","KitchenCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The easily-shattered ceiling looms high above you, so you abandon your tiny piece of cover for the much bigger, more secure one that would doubtlessly catch any shards should the glass shatter. As you run underneath it, you think back to the way Fenborz shot. If he wanted to break the glass, he didn’t need to jump to do so. He didn’t angle his gun upward, either.<br><br>The darts fly into the carriage in the same neat stream that Fenborz shot them in. Their angle is nearly completely straight, and there’s no chance of them ever hitting the glass. What they can hit, however-<br><br>There’s a sickening crunch as the darts fly through the first metal rail. Seeing your life flash before your eyes, you throw yourself to the side. With each heart-pounding second you swear that this is it, that you’re going to die via a falling veranda. Not the most gracious death, nor one a king is expected to die.<br><br>You hit the floor and pray that you’ve made it out. You don’t need to look to know that the veranda has completely detached with the failure of the second rail. It crashes down, directly on top of your legs.<br><br>You howl in pain, tears already streaming from your eyes as you fight to free your legs from the crushing weight. The pain is too all-encompassing, however, and you can feel your mind and body going limp. The last thing you hear before [[you black out->FenborzBadEnd3]] is Fenborz talking about sedating you until he can fix your bones.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The easily-shattered ceiling looms high above you, so you abandon your tiny piece of cover for the much bigger, more secure one that would doubtlessly catch any shards should the glass shatter. As you run underneath it, you think back to the way Fenborz shot. If he wanted to break the glass, he didn’t need to jump to do so. He didn’t angle his gun upward, either.<br><br>The darts fly into the carriage in the same neat stream that Fenborz shot them in. Their angle is nearly completely straight, and there’s no chance of them ever hitting the glass. What they can hit, however-<br><br>There’s a sickening crunch as the darts fly through the first metal rail. Seeing your life flash before your eyes, you throw yourself to the side. With each heart-pounding second you swear that this is it, that you’re going to die via a falling veranda. Not the most gracious death, nor one a king is expected to die.<br><br>You hit the floor sliding, and though you hiss at the ensuing carpet burn, you make it a good distance away. You don’t need to look to know that the veranda has completely detached with the failure of the second rail. As it crashes down, you squeeze your eyes shut, convinced that you’ve somehow died. However, when you finally open them and glance behind you, you realize they were just a hair away from crushing your legs.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that, as you shake the nerves from your body, your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. Dragons were equally beautiful and terrifying in their visage, and in their absence, the role falls to you. Rather than standing up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","KitchenCarriage","LibraryCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Library")[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[You dart for the left, seeking the safety of the bookshelves. The fact that it provides cover is secondary now that Fenborz can shoot right through it. The most important thing is simply that it will hide you. Regardless of whatever scheme Fenborz has already started, he can’t follow it up appropriately if he can’t see you.<br><br>A high-pitched //ping// interrupts your thoughts. No, to be more accurate, it’s more like a series of five pings, so close together that you’d mistaken them as one. Your pace falters as you realize just how badly you messed up.<br><br>The rod-like supports scattered across the library were perfectly calibrated to give structural support while remaining light enough so as to not interfere with the train’s motion. They wouldn’t be affected even by a person walking into them, but being shot by a high-speed projectile by the man who designed them?<br><br>Abandoning your plan, you make a desperate jump for the center. Forget being injured, anything left underneath the fall is going to be obliterated. So even when you land, the sight of the second floor crashing down drives you to crawl forward. The impact shakes the very floor beneath you, and for a second, you think that the carriage is just going to give way to the rails below. When that doesn’t happen, you marvel next at the fact that you haven’t died.<br><br>Unfortunately, a glance backward shatters the good news- and your legs. Through teary eyes you see a particularly tall bookcase stretching all the way from the wall amidst the shattered debris, just tall enough to have landed on your legs. Through the burning pain you can also feel metal- the railing. The only saving grace in all of this is that neither of them were pulverizing-capable like the floor was, but you know you’ve broken something from the way the pain explodes behind your eyes when you move them, intermingling with the darkness that [[consumes you.->FenborzBadEnd3]] The last thing you hear is Fenborz speaking to himself, about how he’ll have to sedate you until he fixes your bones.]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[You dart for the left, seeking the safety of the bookshelves. The fact that it provides cover is secondary now that Fenborz can shoot right through it. The most important thing is simply that it will hide you. Regardless of whatever scheme Fenborz has already started, he can’t follow it up appropriately if he can’t see you.<br><br>A high-pitched //ping// interrupts your thoughts. No, to be more accurate, it’s more like a series of five pings, so close together that you’d mistaken them as one. Your pace falters as you realize just how badly you messed up.<br><br>The rod-like supports scattered across the library were perfectly calibrated to give structural support while remaining light enough so as to not interfere with the train’s motion. They wouldn’t be affected even by a person walking into them, but being shot by a high-speed projectile by the man who designed them?<br><br>Abandoning your plan, you make a desperate jump for the center. Forget being injured, anything left underneath the fall is going to be obliterated. So even when you land, the sight of the second floor crashing down drives you to crawl forward. The impact shakes the very floor beneath you, and for a second, you think that the carriage is just going to give way to the rails below. When that doesn’t happen, you marvel next at the fact that you haven’t died.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. Your ancestors carved their name into history through blood and fire, and now it’s your turn to do the same. Rather than standing up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","KitchenCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[You dart for the right, looking to offset whatever Fenborz is planning with the variety of furniture dotting it. Having cover beats two of Fenborz’ options, and the space to move beats the last. The important part is just having a fast enough reaction time.<br><br>A high-pitched //ping// interrupts your thoughts. No, to be more accurate, it’s more like a series of five pings, so close together that you’d mistaken them as one. Your pace falters as you realize just how badly you messed up.<br><br>The rod-like supports scattered across the library were perfectly calibrated to give structural support while remaining light enough so as to not interfere with the train’s motion. They wouldn’t be affected even by a person walking into them, but being shot by a high-speed projectile by the man who designed them?<br><br>Abandoning your plan, you make a desperate jump for the center. Forget being injured, anything left underneath the fall is going to be obliterated. So even when you land, the sight of the second floor crashing down drives you to crawl forward. The impact shakes the very floor beneath you, and for a second, you think that the carriage is just going to give way to the rails below. When that doesn’t happen, you marvel next at the fact that you haven’t died.<br><br>Unfortunately, a glance backward shatters the good news- and your legs. Through teary eyes you see a particularly tall bookcase stretching all the way from the wall amidst the shattered debris, just tall enough to have landed on your legs. Through the burning pain you can also feel metal- the railing. The only saving grace in all of this is that neither of them were pulverizing-capable like the floor was, but you know you’ve broken something from the way the pain explodes behind your eyes when you move them, intermingling with the darkness that [[consumes you.->FenborzBadEnd3]] The last thing you hear is Fenborz speaking to himself, about how he’ll have to sedate you until he fixes your bones.
]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)You dart for the right, looking to offset whatever Fenborz is planning with the variety of furniture dotting it. Having cover beats two of Fenborz’ options, and the space to move beats the last. The important part is just having a fast enough reaction time.<br><br>A high-pitched //ping// interrupts your thoughts. No, to be more accurate, it’s more like a series of five pings, so close together that you’d mistaken them as one. Your pace falters as you realize just how badly you messed up.<br><br>The rod-like supports scattered across the library were perfectly calibrated to give structural support while remaining light enough so as to not interfere with the train’s motion. They wouldn’t be affected even by a person walking into them, but being shot by a high-speed projectile by the man who designed them?<br><br>Abandoning your plan, you make a desperate jump for the center. Forget being injured, anything left underneath the fall is going to be obliterated. So even when you land, the sight of the second floor crashing down drives you to crawl forward. The impact shakes the very floor beneath you, and for a second, you think that the carriage is just going to give way to the rails below. When that doesn’t happen, you marvel next at the fact that you haven’t died.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. Your ancestors carved their name into history through blood and fire, and now it’s your turn to do the same. Rather than standing up from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","KitchenCarriage","MappingCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The mind of an inventor as prolific as Fenborz can be difficult to understand, but not in this moment. The first thing that forms in an inventor’s mind is the idea, not the practicality. With this in mind you charge boldly into the center, correctly predicting that the spiral of darts wouldn’t hit you. But, going against every action you’ve taken before, you stop. There isn’t a shred of any meaningful cover, and yet you let your burning muscles and aching lungs relax.<br><br>You hear a series of five high-pitched //pings// from different supports scattered throughout the carriage, the sounds so closely stacked together that you would have mistaken them for one had you not been standing still. You watch the previously perfectly-calibrated rods start to buckle around the dents that the darts left in them. The collapse of just one or two would not have done anything significant. However, as five whole supports give way, you watch as the second floor crashes down.<br><br>The second floor crushes everything below, bookshelves, chandeliers, chairs all pulverized beneath its weight. The impact travels through the floor, the feeling traveling through your feet and into your bones. It’s a good thing that you covered your ears because the crash is simply deafening. The tall bookcase you spotted earlier tips over too, just tall enough to fall on the outer edge of the center where you safely stand.<br><br>You whistle, bringing your hands down from your ears. Whether it be a happy coincidence or foresight in the event of second floor failure, you watch the unaffected mana-electricity converter buzz its normal bright blue.<br><br>If there’s anything you can say, you think as you weave through the broken debris to the exit, it’s that Fenborz is fully willing to sacrifice his train to take you down. You have to make sure that that sacrifice is in vain as (link:"you enter the next carriage.")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","KitchenCarriage","MappingCarriage"))]
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Mapping")[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The only reasonable reaction to a stabby needle-arm thing is to get far, far away from it. You know just from observing that it can skitter about, and the thought of it chasing you on the left path sends shivers down your spine. But you can’t very well stop. Fenborz might be content to watch for now, but if he gets bored of his idea and resorts to practicality, you might just get shot.<br><br>So you jump. And before you can even land, you see the machine jump along with you.<br><br>You try twisting your body, but it’s no use. Wood hits your back as the machine latches onto your leg, its arms piercing through your garments and flesh with ease. Agonizing pain courses through your body as you desperately attempt to dislodge the relentless machine. Each struggle only seems to worsen the damage, and despair washes over you as you rapidly approach the limit of your senses.<br><br>As the pain becomes nearly unbearable, you finally cease your frantic movements. To your surprise, the mechanical attacker loses interest, retracting its needles and retreating. Through a haze of pain and confusion, you begin to piece together the enigmatic behavior of the spider-like machine - it attacks movement.<br><br>Woozy from the pain and the darkness curling around the edges of your vision, you laugh. Only Fenborz would build such a ridiculous measure into his machine. The last thing you hear is Fenborz complaining to himself, saying it’ll take an especially long time to sedate you and treat your wounds. Your laughter sours into bitter sobs before fading completely into the black void of [[unconsciousness.->FenborzBadEnd3]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The only reasonable reaction to a stabby needle-arm thing is to get far, far away from it. You know just from observing that it can skitter about, and the thought of it chasing you on the left path sends shivers down your spine. But you can’t very well stop. Fenborz might be content to watch for now, but if he gets bored of his idea and resorts to practicality, you might just get shot.<br><br>You prepare to jump, but before you can do so, a map that was precariously perched on the edge of its shelving falls. The machine doesn’t even wait for it to land, leaping high into the air and latching onto it. The parchment is speared through completely, and just a little bit of movement on the part of the machine rips it utterly apart. You flinch at the idea of it doing the same to your leg, and you abandon your first plan.<br><br>You’re about halfway through devising a scheme to pick up something and throw it far away when you notice that the machine has already climbed on top of the center table. It stands, visibly agitated, by a blinking light. It raises one arm threateningly before slamming it down. A loud buzz fills the air as blue electricity coils all throughout its body, and the mechanism moves no more.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. It’s no mistake that Wevendh is the centermost country in all of Thiarbre; your ancestors envisioned it as the heart of it all, the place where dragons roost. Rather than transition into a run naturally from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it. You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","KitchenCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[
(if:$playerHealth is 0)[The only reasonable reaction to a stabby needle-arm thing is to get far, far away from it. You aren’t fully knowledgeable of its capabilities, and the thought of it jumping with you onto the table sends shivers down your spine. But you can’t very well stop. Fenborz might be content to watch for now, but if he gets bored of his idea and resorts to practicality, you might just get shot.<br><br>So you run. And before you can even make it to the other side of the table, you see the machine skittering across the floor with concerning speed.<br><br>You try speeding up, but it’s no use. The train’s metal flooring hits your back as the machine latches onto your leg, its arms piercing through your garments and flesh with ease. Agonizing pain courses through your body as you desperately attempt to dislodge the relentless machine. Each struggle only seems to worsen the damage, and despair washes over you as you rapidly approach the limit of your senses.<br><br>As the pain becomes nearly unbearable, you finally cease your frantic movements. To your surprise, the mechanical attacker loses interest, retracting its needles and retreating. Through a haze of pain and confusion, you begin to piece together the enigmatic behavior of the spider-like machine - it attacks movement.<br><br>Woozy from the pain and the darkness curling around the edges of your vision, you laugh. Only Fenborz would build such a ridiculous measure into his machine. The last thing you hear is Fenborz complaining to himself, saying it’ll take an especially long time to sedate you and treat your wounds. Your laughter sours into bitter sobs before fading completely into the black void of [[unconsciousness.->FenborzBadEnd3]]]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 1)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)The only reasonable reaction to a stabby needle-arm thing is to get far, far away from it. You aren’t fully knowledgeable of its capabilities, and the thought of it jumping with you onto the table sends shivers down your spine. But you can’t very well stop. Fenborz might be content to watch for now, but if he gets bored of his idea and resorts to practicality, you might just get shot.<br><br>You prepare to run, but before you can do so, a map that was precariously perched on the edge of its shelving falls. The machine doesn’t even wait for it to land, leaping high into the air and latching onto it. The parchment is speared through completely, and just a little bit of movement on the part of the machine rips it utterly apart. You flinch at the idea of it doing the same to your leg, and you abandon your first plan.<br><br>You’re about halfway through devising a scheme to pick up something and throw it far away when you notice that the machine has already climbed on top of the center table. It stands, visibly agitated, by a blinking light. It raises one arm threateningly before slamming it down. A loud buzz fills the air as blue electricity coils all throughout its body, and the mechanism moves no more.<br><br>That was a wake-up call and then some. You're close enough that your eyes meet Fenborz'. There is still boundless curiosity in his gaze, but at the moment, it's laser-focused on ways to defeat you. Even now he's adjusting his weapon, getting used to its weight. If you make the wrong decision again, you're finished.<br><br>But it's not within a dragon's nature to be daunted by something like losing everything. The heat of your own breath grounds you, brings to mind the pride of the mountains. It’s no mistake that Wevendh is the centermost country in all of Thiarbre; your ancestors envisioned it as the heart of it all, the place where dragons roost. Rather than transition into a run naturally from your position, it's more accurate to say that you simply burst into a run from it.You clear this carriage and (link:"enter the next")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","KitchenCarriage"))] with a half-crazed smile.
]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)Even though every fiber of your being is screaming at you to get away from that conglomerate of metal and danger-laden needle points, your mind keeps going back to what you saw of it as it was rising. If it was the motion of the train that aggravated it back then, then it should still be berserk. No, it was what the motion caused- the movement of the glass shards.<br><br>You look at the map on the center table once more, its once-perfect alignment ruined. One edge hangs off the side of the table, more than likely because of the whip of air from the clock falling. You try to stay deathly still, moving only your mouth to blow air. The map flutters and, thankfully, it’s precisely what the machine goes for. It climbs the base of the table with piercing stabs. <br><br>When it emerges on the top, it tries searching for the edge that had set its sensors off, but it now hangs still once more. It skitters about seemingly randomly until it stands, visibly agitated, above a blinking light. It raises one arm threateningly before slamming it down. A loud buzz fills the air as blue electricity coils all throughout its body, and the mechanism moves no more.<br><br>Letting out a sigh of relief, you look forward, to Fenborz. He seems to have been as invested in the movement of the machine as you were, as his rifle hangs limply downward. Taking advantage of his laxness, you break into a sprint. By the time he can actually point it at you, (link:"you’re entering the next carriage")[(goto:(either:"BotanicalCarriage","ObservationCarriage","LibraryCarriage","KitchenCarriage"))], leaving the fried machine behind.
]
]
(elseif:$lastCarriage is "Placeholder")[
(if:$movementChoice is 1)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 2)[(set:$fenborzHealth to $fenborzHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
(elseif:$movementChoice is 3)[(set:$playerHealth to $playerHealth-1)
(if:$playerHealth is 1)[]
(elseif:$playerHealth is 2)[]
]
]
}(set:$fightState to false)Newly- but far from fully- revitalized from the rest, you stand up and follow suit, jumping off the top of the train. The ground is hard and your bones protest, but you roll over it regardless. You rush over to Fenborz, who lays in a crumpled mess by the train tracks behind you. No blood. Thank the gods.
He lays face up, his mask still on him. He's bruised, of course, but the height he fell from actually wasn't all that high. He shouldn't have broken anything, but you'll have your physicians treat him soon enough anyway. Just ahead you can see the train docking in the station, meaning you're painfully close to your carriage. You know you're going to have to sleep or at least rest for a couple days after this particularly taxing experience, but with the Indomitable destroyed and their leader taken hostage, there's absolutely nothing Chromore could hope to do.
As you lift him up, the only thing you can think is 'Oof, he's heavy.' The thought distracts you so much that you don't notice the mask was broken, nor that it's front half is sliding right off of Fenborz' face until it clinks into the rocky surface below. As you look down, you're struck by the unbelievable sight.
He's... he's beautiful. There's an undeniable youth to his features, not only in his flawless complexion, but in the interplay of boyish cheeks with a chiseled jawline, a strong nose with soft-arched eyebrows. His long lashes, delicately spaced, rests over his closed eyes. Although you can't see them now, you can't help but imagine how those lashes would frame his emerald eyes, always looking toward some far-off possibility not with longing, but with the determination to reach out and grasp it. His lips, rosy and full, possess a delicate curve that would make any expression alluring, let alone a smile. Without the mask in the way, his dark blue tresses cascade in wild spikes- downward, away from his face, because of the way you're holding him. The contrast between his strikingly handsome face and the powerful, robust physique weighing on your hands is undeniable. It's a mesmerizing contradiction, a juxtaposition of beauty and strength that leaves you in awe of the man you now hold in your arms.
His looks could easily rival (if:$endFrateo is true)[Camille's, your fateful meeting with him echoing in your mind](else:)[the renowned beauty of the Crown Prince of Frateo], even though the thought sounds almost sacrilegious in your head.
The sound of a window opening snaps you of your stupor. Thankfully, the curious homeowners are far more concerned with the giant hunk of burning metal that is the Indomitable, so for the final time today, you run.
Fighting through crowds, weaving through passersby, avoiding guard patrols rushing toward the Indomitable, you finally make it to your carriage. You stuff your unconscious passenger in the back before retrieving rope and tying him up tight. Next, you check the front, only to realize with a flurry of curses that your coachman is gone. It figures that Fenborz would not only seize you with the guards you'd hijacked earlier, but the poor driver along with you. When you seize power of Chromore, you'll have the coachman released and paid handsomely for his service. For now, though, you just need someone, anyone who isn't on the verge of passing out to get you to Wevendh.
As luck would have it, a carriage pulls up next to yours, having just arrived from parts unknown. Theirs is the talk of merchants, talking about how best they can leverage the explosion to get deals on their goods, so you approach them with haste. It's a family; a man, his wife, and their two children. All four of them look at you with surprise, doubtlessly because you're panting and barely conscious.
"I need a coachman who flies like the wind. If you get me all the way to Wevendh, I'll pay you your weight in gold." You flash your royal insignia. "So declares it, I, the King of Wevendh."
The adults look at each other before nodding.
"Do take care, dear," the man says to his wife as she descends from her own carriage. "We'll meet you in Agerhaerst."
"Don't feed them any sweets while I'm gone. " She reminds him sternly before jumping expertly onto the coachman's seat. She smooths down her dress before pointing with her head backward. "Get in, 'ighness."
As soon as you climb in, the wife's voice resounds as she gets the horses moving. You don't even get to the cushions. [[You fall asleep->FenborzFinale3]] face down, snoring loudly against the floor.You nearly swat away the hand shaking you awake, but you still yourself when, though blurry eyes, you recognize the figure of your temporary coachwoman. You haven't much of an appetite, but you accept the bread and water she offers you.
"You've been drifting in and out these past days, and so 'as 'e." She gestures to the thankfully still-secure Fenborz, staring at you from the corner of the room. "The kids'll never believe me when I tell 'em what a right mess you dragged me into, but seeing as we actually made it to Wevendh, I don't suppose I'll get in trouble for it. Mind you, we're not at the castle yet. Figured you'd want to go there, what being the king and all."
"There'd only be trouble if you let him get away," you say with some difficulty from your dreadfully parched throat. The water eases it some, and you break off a few pieces of bread to chew on while speaking. "I'm assuming he tried to escape."
"Oh, 'e's crafty, that one. It was a good thing I 'appened to come around with refreshments for the two of you, or 'e'd 'ave done something I couldn't quite rightly fix myself! Disposed of it, I did, and I got new rope. Even made sure to tie 'is 'ands tight so there'd be no more of that nonsense."
A small smile tugs on your lips. You notice some metallic filigree within your carriage missing. Even defeated and tied up, he tried to free himself. You picked your coachwoman well. "I wasn't kidding about paying your weight in gold."
She scoffs. "D'you think I'd've done it if I thought I wasn't going to be paid? That's what the other merchants don't get, peddling shoddy wares like that. Our family specializes in customer satisfaction, whether that be product or smuggling an 'andsome lad across the borders. That's another difference there. I don't go sticking my nose in business it don't belong in, like asking 'is name."
"I never actually caught your name, did I?" You stretch, letting your muscles move properly for the first time since you passed out. "Forgive my rudeness."
"It's Eileen, but for the wage you're paying me, you can call me whatever you want!" She laughs heartily before using her hand to swat away at nothing. "I'd rather fancy a drink, though. It's been days on the road, your 'ighness, and my bones are oh-so-weary."
You rummage around to find your coin purse, from which you place a coin on your thumb. You flick it upward toward her, and she snatches it from the air with a practiced hand. She exits the carriage with a boisterous jump, and you can even hear the force with which she opens a door.
[[That just leaves you and Fenborz.->FenborzFinale4]]Unhurried in your motions, you pick yourself up. For how hard you pushed yourself you're remarkably pain-free, but your body is slow to react, weaker. That's just fine. You have all the time to recuperate back at Draenaid.
When it finally feels like the blood is pumping through your veins properly again, you walk over to your bound captive.
He looks up at you with equal parts resignation and hatred. "What could you possibly want now?"
You blink in surprise. His voice is a lot higher, more boyish, but with a deeper edge and significant vocal fry on the ends of his words. More importantly, there isn't a trace of the clicking you've come to associate with each of his words. "You actually used a voice changer?"
He continues to glare at you for a good while before finally nodding. "As I said, what could you possibly want now?"
You drop into a crouch and hold his chin gently. "Well, for starters, you could explain why you hid such a beautiful face from everyone. Your body in general, really."
"Because of that," he huffs. "I've invented more than anyone could ever dream of. My repertoire eclipses any of my colleagues' by several factors. And yet, when people see my face, all of that falls to the wayside. Can you //believe// how hard it was to be taken seriously? Do you have any idea what it's like to present your ideas to a ruler, brimming with hopes and dreams, only for him to invite you into his harem? He told me I had better things to do with my hands than roughen them with steel! And you're no better! I nearly shot you with a one-in-a-kind prototype weapon, and you're still focused on my face!"
There is real animosity there, something you'd only glimpsed at before. You recall now, through the blurred veil of memories, that he spoke very little during the meeting with your parents and your brother. His colleagues did nearly all of the talking for him, and what little he added was more of a non-sequitur than anything else.
But that animosity is something you can take advantage of. Yes, there is a time for plunder, but you did plenty of that when you wrecked Fenborz' train and utterly burned his prize airship. This requires a more subtle touch.
"It's my first time seeing it, though. You can't forgive me for being a little curious?"
"I can't forgive you on account of you kidnapping me," he snaps back.
Your smile doesn't falter in the slightest. "It isn't the first time Blaylock and Nicodemus saw it, right?"
"Obviously."
"And it's not their first time seeing that you're unhappy ruling Chromore."
"Obvi-" Fenborz stops himself, even straining against his ropes. Rather than an earnest attempt to escape his bonds, it seems like an instinctual reaction- like he intended to slap his hands over his mouth. You can determine that much from the fierce blush that goes across his features. His fluster somehow only serves to accentuate how handsome he is.
"Suffocating." You press down on his chin again, making absolutely certain that he can't turn away from what you're about to say next. "That's what it felt like, right? Blaylock and Nicodemus knew you hated being seen over your inventions. They knew, and they still forced you to take center stage even though they could've just ruled Chromore themselves."
Fenborz' eyes sparkle not with curiosity but with a glaze of tears formed from deep-rooted sadness. You release his chin then. "They wanted a triumvirate, like the empires of old. To credit me, they said."
"But that's not how it worked out, did it? Not for the empires, not for you. Even now the names 'Blaylock' and 'Nicodemus' are known mostly to rulers and envoys, not the common man. And why do you think that is? That the people just flocked under your banner? If I had to reckon, it would be that they hid themselves from the spotlight to save themselves. Neither of them wanted to deal with the public, nor the inevitable attempts on your life."
The tears flow freely down his cheeks as he whimpers, and you actually start to feel pity for him. For a time, he doesn't speak, and neither do you. You just let him think through your words.
When at last he returns to silence, you continue the thought you left hanging. "I'm not interested in taking your life. It just so happened that you were used as a scapegoat by wolves in sheep's clothing. That being said, I'm not just interested in using you as a bargaining chip either."
He nibbles on his bottom lip. "Then what?"
"How would you feel about using your talents for Wevendh?" You say in a carefully measured tone. "Now you can't put together anything that'll harm me or the people of Wevendh, or make something to escape. You'll also be supervised to make sure you aren't breaking those rules. But other than that? Sky's the limit. I'll even give you your own workshop."
Fenborz visibly considers the offer in the way his eyes dart to and fro. However, before long, his face and head both fall. "You're asking me to betray my country? My friends?"
"A country you never asked to rule, and the people who forced you into that position." You correct, patting his back. "And there doesn't even need to be any bloodshed. If you just tell Blaylock and Nicodemus to give me control of Chromore, then there'll be no need for us to invade."
"And I'll never need to speak in public again?"
You nod, at which point he nods fervently back.
"There's just one more thing I want from you. In addition to being an inventor, you'll be...
Head of Wevendh's research guild."
my husband."
[[my sex slave."->FenborzSexSlave]]
focusing on sex toys."Fenborz sputters, his mouth twisting incredulously. "W-What?"
"I want to bed you," you say, stroking his cheek.
"I know that. I'm not stupid," he says with a huff. "What I meant was, how exactly am I ever going to be taken seriously as an inventor with... with a title like that? I already know you're not going to allow me to use my robes and mask anymore, and I honestly don't mind. It got stuffy a lot. But the entire point of that persona was to make sure I would be known as inventor first and foremost!"
"So we'll get you a new title. Concubine is quite popular, from what I hear."
When Fenborz' face doesn't brighten in the slightest, you rethink your approach. It doesn't seem like he actually cares so much about the sex portion so long as he gets the time and privacy to invent. On the other hand, you want to pin him down and use him until he can't think of anything but you. Oh, decisions, decisions.
It takes a good while, but you reach a mutually satisfying compromise.
"From the time the sun rises, you will be hailed as Fenborz Hsuefte, Honored Defector and the very first Court Inventor. Not that you'll ever actually need to attend the court. Either I or my spymaster will bring news of your latest creations, as the nobles tend to be a finicky bunch otherwise. But as soon as the sun goes down..." You reach out and hold his chin again, just the barest gap between your lips as you bring your face closer. "Prepare yourself for me. There will be times where I may be too busy to use you. There will also be times where I use you until you're a shivering mess, begging for me to keep using you well into the night."
That finally sends a solid shiver through Fenborz and, though slight against his tan skin, there is a blush there. "A-A-Alright. Just keep your word and I'll do it."
Fenborz tilts his head back and braces himself. After a few seconds of you not doing anything to him, he peeks an eye open. "I thought you were going to ravish me."
"You're that desperate for me already?" You shake your head. "Wait until we reach the castle so we don't trouble the coachwoman."
Embarrassed, Fenborz nods.
[[Fenborz has agreed to become your sex slave.->FenborzSexSlave2]]Shizomu stiffens up at the sight of Fenborz descending from your carriage. You've been around him for so many years now that you know that this means he's actually surprised- something that doesn't usually occur. "I was not aware that you were bringing a guest. I apologize for lacking the knowledge-"
"You'd know him as Fenborz Hsuefte."
Shizomu and all of the guards within earshot go silent. It's truly fortunate that Fiomuid is busy training his troops, or else you'd have the entire castle alerted to Fenborz' presence.
"Your Majesty, don't you think it's dangerous to hold a prisoner of his ability without any bonds?" Shizomu asks, almost casually putting his hand on his hip. You think 'almost' because you know that that's where he conceals several needles.
"He is no prisoner, Shizomu. After a difficult confrontation, he saw the wisdom of allowing Chromore to be managed by more capable hands. In fact, for his brave decision to give his nation up to me, I am granting him the title of Court Inventor. We'll be expecting Blaylock and Nicodemus in the coming days to finalize all of that. For now, for his own safety, assign guards to him as you see fit." You (pretend to) start walking away, only to backtrack suddenly. "Begin construction of his workshop at once. We'll need a place suitable for a private discussion between the two of us this night. I entrust him to you."
Shizomu nods sternly, though from his knowing gaze, you're sure he's going to ask what actually happened later. By pure contrast, Fenborz nods meekly, blush already playing onto his features. You can't help but smirk. He'll be blushing in a lot of other places later.
True to your word, you immediately go for the royal treasury and obtain a hefty sack of coins. When Eileen sees you, she very nearly hugs you. You honestly wouldn't have minded, but you pay your guards for a reason. Either way, she leaves considerably richer.
You retreat to your quarters to freshen up. The day is still young, so you'll have to perform some kingly duties still. However, when [[the night falls->FenborzSexSlave3]]...The night is cold as usual, though the flickering torches about your castle give you some warmth as you pass by them. The guards stand at the ready at the sight of your approaching figure, though they raise their bardiches when the flames light your face.
"Greetings, Your Majesty!" They say in unison.
You don't have to reply, so you don't. Gesturing vaguely, they take the hint and open the doors for you. It's not until the doors click softly behind you that you fully relax and take in the brand new addition to your castle.
The very first thing you note is the presence of electrical lights, meaning there's a mana-electricity converter hidden away somewhere. You'll have to consider installing some in your own quarters with how neatly the white light blankets everything compared to the constant movement of fire.
Rather than the tangled nest of gears, pipes, and notes plucked straight from Korycai that you envisioned, the place is remarkably clean. Having seen the state of Fenborz' own workshop before, you know the responsibility actually belongs to Shizomu, who you filled in with the details shortly after your first conversation.
The evidence of that is even more blatant in the lush bedding fit for two people. You're certain that, if you actually open up the cabinets placed nearby, you'd actually find tinctures and refreshments meant for far less innocent things than merely sleeping.
The walls are entirely devoid of hangings, and in fact, two of them are lined entirely with massive, almost seamless-looking panels of glass. Thankfully, curtains are drawn so that your night-time exploits with Fenborz aren't so obvious. You know for a fact that this is Fenborz' work, as the construction resembles that of the tall towers particular to Arcgarde. It marks a curious departure from his earlier workshop, which felt like it took every effort to be hidden away from not only the world at large, but everyone else.
It's not the most defensible thing in the world, which is exactly why it's placed in a relatively unimportant corner of the castle. You're not at the point of trusting him with weapons yet, but you may even consider allowng him to create a rifle should an enemy be eyeing his new home...
Speaking of which, the tools to make such a device rest in a collection of trays brought together in the same framework. Interestingly, the bottom of said framework has wheels not unlike a wheelbarrow, which means he can cart it around. Next to the cart are dozens of crates, each of which contain a different material. You notice a distinct lack of anything that can be directly harmful, although you think Shizomu underestimated Fenborz in that regard. If he wanted to, he could easily make something monstrous with anything he could get his hands on.
But he doesn't want it, and he isn't. In fact, he's just sitting with his back turned to you at a workbench, humming and hammering away. He's dressed in the clothes of a Wevendh nobleman, although notably, it seems he cut off the sleeves at some point. With the feeling of having done this before tickling the back of your mind, you approach him and take a peek at what he's making.
Thankfully it's not a rifle, nor any sort of weapon. It's simply a stylized clock.
You rest your hand on his shoulder and he screams, clutching his chest. When he looks up and sees you, he pouts. "You really must stop doing that. Even putting aside the fact that you made me lose my train of thought which, I would like to point out, would have led to the creation of an entirely new engine based off of dragonfire, my heart can't take such sudden jumps like that! You really are ill-mannered, doing that twice now."
"I know you haven't forgotten." You hug him from behind, resting your lips right next to his ear. "You're mine now, and I can do whatever I want with you."
"W-Well, yes, I did agree to that. However! What would happen if I happened to drop my hammer and smash this clock?"
"You'd just make it again."
"I'd just make it- damn you, that's not the point I was trying to make." He gulps audibly. "I've just never... done anything like that. I don't do well with flowery language, language in general, or flowers- flowers are confusing things, aren't they? I've been trying to replicate the way their petals grow in machinery. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. There just isn't a schematic for sex! It's so hard trying to parse the specifics from the novels!"
"I'll teach you," you say in a low, sensual voice, before leading him over to the bed.
You start stripping but, ever a bundle of nerves, Fenborz yells loudly! "W-Wait! T-Turn around!"
Raising an eyebrow prompts him to continue. "I know you're going to see it anyway, but please?"
Deciding to humor Fenborz' wishes, you turn around. The rapid clinking of clothes comes from behind you.
When everything is off your body, you turn back around, only to see Fenborz on the bed and completely swaddled in blankets. He's so thoroughly encased that the blankets even cover his head, only the frontmost ruffle of blue hair peeking through. He even has a pillow resting on his knees, covering the lower half of his face. His green eyes look at you guiltily, as if apologizing ahead of time. He's essentially recreated his robe and mask.
You might have been annoyed with his antics had you not noticed his skintight vest and trousers discarded by the bedside. Rather than start up another conversation like you think he wants you to do, you get onto the bed and throw the blankets off him. He yelps as he's completely exposed.
With a sneer you lean over him and say, "I'll teach you how it feels to...
[[get your hole pounded."->FenborzSlaveTop]]
[[get ridden into the sheets."->FenborzSlavePowerbottom]]
[[take a hole for yourself."->FenborzSlaveBottom]]
[[take your own pleasure from riding."->FenborzSlaveServiceTop]]You lean forward, kissing him gently on his neck. He responds tentatively, his body stiffening and relaxing with each flick of your tongue. He reaches out suddenly and, just following their natural instinct, his hands start roaming your body.
Returning the favor, you trace your fingers along his shy lines, feeling the carefully sculpted slopes and valleys of his abdomen. His skin is so smooth, yet his muscles are so firm. You give him a mischievous nip that has him yelping in surprise. When you pull away, his large eyes communicate a barrage of nervous, hesitant emotions.
"You're so beautiful," you tell him, your voice low and gentle. "I promise I won't ruin you... too badly."
He looks at you uncertainly but nods slightly.
Reaching over to the cabinet, you procure a tincture and slather your fingers with it. You slide a finger down his cock teasingly first. He's on the shorter but wider side, but it's no endowment to scoff at. Your continue tracing the finger down his balls straight down to his hole.
With careful precision, you start using those fingers on him, slowly loosening him up. His body twitches under your touch, trying and failing to remain quiet and still. You continue to tell him how beautiful he is, reassuring him every step of the way, though it's mostly so you can squeeze more pretty moans from him. The more he relaxes, the more he sings, and for a time you're contented with spreading him wide. It's when you brush over his most pleasurable spot that he jerks in surprise, letting out a lewd moan.
Your contentment disappears, replaced with an overwhelming urge to stuff him full. It's a good thing that his body is already relaxed enough for you to begin fucking him. You guide him onto his back on the cushions, positioning yourself between his legs. His eyes are wide with fear and anticipation as you enter him slowly. But once inside, he moans loudly, his body wracked with pleasure. The sensation you feel is incredible- Fenborz' tightness surrounds your cock as heat radiates off his body.
You move slowly at first, not wanting to hurt him or scare him away. But after the pleasurable agony of pressing forward, waiting just long enough to let Fenborz adjust, and then repeating, you finally bottom out inside of him. The deep breath you take doesn't calm you at all. If anything, it just stokes the urge rising within you.
It takes over. You grab hold of his legs and put them over your shoulders.
"Wait, that's-" Fenborz manages to say before he screams.
You drive into him harder, faster. His moans echo around the room as he grips the bed for purchase, unsure of anything but the pleasure coursing through him. He fights through the waves of pleasure long enough to put his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his moans. With a displeased 'tch,' you lean forward and grab his hands, pinning them above his head. With you leaning even farther toward him, your cock drives in deeper with each stroke.
With your face right above his, he tries to turn his face away. But with an authoritative voice you command him. "Look at me, concubine."
The title causes Fenborz to squeeze down hard, and as the both of you stare into each other's eyes, you reach the brink. You pump a huge load into Fenborz just as he sprays his own all over his stomach, the white droplets pooling in the spaces between his abs.
You grind your hips against him one last time before pulling out, collapsing onto the bed beside Fenborz. You're prepared for the pillow talk already, you really are, but when you turn to see Fenborz mewling, so wracked with pleasure that he can't stop shivering, the sadistic urge is too great. You press down on his stomach, and though he thrashes, he can't help but just ooze out the load you just fucked into him.
Though many other thoughts run through your mind, you choose not to follow them. It's simply because you have all the time in the world to introduce Fenborz to all of it, teach him day by day, until he's really the slave he signed up to be.
You clean yourself up and leave Fenborz behind to do the same. When you [[exit->ChromoreConquestEnd]], it's with all the grace and dignity of a king- leaving the guards none the wiser as to how you fucked your 'guest'.Despite your direct words, you take your time drinking in the sight of him. It wasn't long ago that you thought of him as some inhuman, possibly robotic shape skulking about in massive robes and a mask.
But now, as you watch him trying his best not to cover himself (smartly, you might add), you can't help but be captivated by his beauty. His body is perfect- every inch of it. You bite your lip and reach out, gently touching his firm chest. He jumps slightly at the touch, looking down at your hand on his skin. Just the thought of being the first and only person to touch him like this makes your desire for him surge.
"S-Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you were going to... ride me into the sheets?" He asks shyly.
But you ignore his words, kissing him softly on the neck. He tastes sweet and innocent, like honey. As your hands roam over his body, feeling every inch of him, you feel that every bit of the struggle to capture him was all worth it.
"I'll do that when you're not so nervous." You pull away from him, smirking at his eyes immediately going to your cock standing proudly before him. "Not that I'm going to help."
You reach a hand toward his penis. He flinches slightly at your touch, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he looks up at you with wide eyes, his skin glowing in the light of the room. You apply some lotion to your fingers and begin to stroke him slowly, feeling his body respond to your touch. And as you move your hand over him, stroking him gently, he moans softly, his hips bucking slightly against your fingers. You continue to stroke him, feeling the warmth and smoothness of his skin beneath your fingers.
You take a quick pause to retrieve a tincture from the cabinets, slathering the fingers of one hand in the liquid.
Finally, when he's fully erect, you lean forward and take him into your mouth, sucking gently on his cock. It's a distinctly sweet and salty taste, a far cry from the pure sweetness of his neck. You reach back with the tinctured hand, fingering yourself open briskly. As you continue to suck him off, you feel him growing harder in your mouth, his skin tightening around your tongue.
"You taste so good," you whisper after sliding off his dick with a //pop//, moving your hand back up to gently rub his testicles. He squirms underneath you, writhing with pleasure as you continue to stroke him.
As fun as it is to see Fenborz squirm around your mouth, you have to move on. After what feels like an eternity of teasing and pleasuring him, you climb onto Fenborz's lap, straddling him. His cock throbs against your ass, pressing into you, demanding entry. You lower yourself slowly, feeling his thick length stretching you open.
It's slow going, but unspeakably pleasurable. Normally you wouldn't have any trouble slamming down and riding him for all he's worth, but the mere reminder that you're claiming Fenborz' virginity makes you want to savor it. He makes the sweetest faces and sounds, especially when you slide down agonizingly slowly.
As you near his base, you can't take anymore. You shove the rest inside of you with a moan, as with him fully inside you, you really begin the ride. Your butt moves rhythmically against his hips as you bounce.
You try your best to slow your roll a bit, but his dick keeps hitting the right spots. What started out gentle turns into a quick and rough slamming, causing Fenborz to cry out loudly. Embarrassed by his own sounds, he grabs a pillow and covers his mouth with it. You reach down, toss the pillow away, and grab his hands. You place them on your chest.
"There are better things to do with your hands." Your sentence devolves into a moan near the end as Fenborz gets the message and plays with your nipple, squeezing and tugging in his own form of retribution. His eyes are wide with shock and excitement, his face flushed red.
It goes on for what feels like eternity, but eventually, you feel the pleasure reaching its peak in your stomach. "I'm about to cum, concubine-"
The title makes Fenborz buck his hips wildly as he pulls on your nipples. You climax together, Fenborz entirely inside of you, and you onto Fenborz' sculpted body and even some of his face.
Despite protests from your burning legs, you rise off of Fenborz, globs of semen falling from your hole as you do so. You //could// do with another round, but you decide not to. After all, you have you have all the time in the world to introduce Fenborz to all of it, teach him day by day, until he's really the slave he signed up to be.
You clean yourself up and leave Fenborz behind to do the same. When you [[exit->ChromoreConquestEnd]], it's with all the grace and dignity of a king- leaving the guards none the wiser as to how you fucked your 'guest'.In a move that surprises Fenborz, you have him sit up before you slide into the position you made him vacate. You lay back on the bed, adjusting your position slightly as you look up at the beautiful man standing before you. His eyes meet yours and he seems to flinch slightly, looking away quickly. But then he forces himself to look back into your eyes again.
"I... I haven't experienced it this way either," he says quietly, his voice barely audible.
You smile at him softly, reaching out to touch his chest. Through the firm muscle you can feel his rapid heartbeat, likely drowning out most of his thoughts.
"That doesn't change anything," you whisper. You pull him close, pressing your lips against his neck and sucking deeply. His skin has a distinctly sweet and innocent taste to him, though you're not sure if that's your tastebuds or simply the spell of the moment.
Your hands roam over his body, tracing every line and curve of his perfect form. Your hands slide down his chest, over his hard abs, and then lower still to cup his heavy balls. You gently squeeze them, feeling the heat radiating from him. As your fingers dance over his sensitive skin, he moans softly, his hips bucking slightly against you.
"Fenborz," you whisper into his ear, "I want you inside me."
You pull him closer still, pressing your erection against his. He shivers at the contact, but doesn't resist. Instead, he whimpers softly and arches into you, pressing himself back against your cock.
All of his movements are uncertain and hesitant, but you're a patient man. You let Fenborz fumble for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do to you, before you laugh softly. You get up and off the bed, grabbing a tincture from one of the cabinets. Faced with something non-biological, he finally perks up and looks more confident.
"You can't just enter me. You have to loosen me up first." With only those instructions, you let Fenborz do what he does best; experiment. You're glad that his first instinct is to test it out on his finger rather than drinking it. When you nod, he starts slathering it all over his fingers. He places the tincture off to the side before positioning his fingers at your hole.
He sets about his task in a purely methodical fashion, poking and prodding at your hole until he finally gets the courage to slide into you. It's not really sexy, but he more than makes up for it with his face, that unique combination of fluster and the need to learn. It's not until he slides two fingers in that you actually start feeling good, letting out your first moan. Emboldened by that, he really gets into it, rolling his fingers, twisting them, pressing against your walls.
He's a fast learner, and it's no time at all before you're more than loose enough, breathing heavily as cum leaks from your tip. You put a hand on his, stopping him. "Now's the time."
Fenborz nods and positions himself. Desire wins out against his self-restraint and he practically dives in. Your choked gasp stops him from slamming in fully, but he's gotten more than half of his length in in one stroke. He looks at you guiltily, but only gives you a few seconds from then before he's pushing in further.
It's not really his clumsy movements that get you, it's the mere fact that you're relinquishing the dominant role to him in both senses. You practically own him, and yet you allow him to own you in bed. You moan every time he thrusts, and all you get in response is more of them. This whole time he's staring at you, constantly seeking wordless approval as he goes rougher and rougher. And you give it to him, your steadily rising moans and grunts creating an almost endless cycle.
He doesn't know how to angle himself or what to do with his hands, so he focuses on just pummeling your hole into submission. You think about telling him, but the start of your sentence turns into a particularly whorish moan when he finally hits just the right spot.
He freezes, and for a second you think he's going to stop entirely.
You throw your head back in ecstasy as he instead pounds that spot into dust.
It isn't long after that that you both near the edge. Fenborz starts trembling, trying to stifle his moans. You shake your head, and he rejoins your lewd duet. It's then that he unloads, throwing in a few thrusts for good measure. You can't tell the difference, really, given that you're cumming all over yourself, your hips shuddering involuntarily.
Body slick with sweat and pleasure, Fenborz falls to your side, exhausted. A sadistic pang tells you to grab hold of his cock and introduce him to the world of overstimulation, but you ignore it. He's already gone far enough for one night, and you have all the time in the world to introduce him to more and more, until he fucks you in a way only a sex slave can.
You clean yourself up and leave Fenborz behind to do the same. When you [[exit->ChromoreConquestEnd]], it's with all the grace and dignity of a king- leaving the guards none the wiser as to how you fucked your 'guest'.Fenborz looks up at you nervously, clearly not expecting to hold the reins. You can't help but laugh at how adorable he is, a far cry from the persona he crafted for himself. You take this moment to grab a tincture from the cabinets nearby, since Fenborz might fumble with it later. When you return, you see that he's lowered himself onto the bed next to you, shivering slightly under your gaze.
"I-I hope I don't disappoint...," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
You smile softly at him, reaching out to touch his chest. Just as you expected, it's pounding loud and fast against your fingertips. It's not nearly fast enough for your tastes, of course. You put your face in front of his, just close enough for a kiss, but not quite. You return his wide-eyed gaze with a mischievous one of your own.
It's only after solid moments of nothing that Fenborz leans in. Your lips meet hesitantly at first, but soon grows passionate as he loses himself in the moment. His warmth against yours is intoxicating, making your heart race faster to meet his with each passing second. Once the kiss ends, you pull away slightly and smile at him affectionately.
"Still so beautiful," you say airily.
Perhaps emboldened by your comment, he runs his fingers through your hair. Despite choosing that action for himself, it is he who blushes deeply, his cheeks burning a hotter red than it already was.
"You ready for this?" you ask him teasingly, pulling him closer by his hand.
He nods nervously, eyes darting around once more. With that, you lay back on the bed. Fenborz hesitates for a moment, but then climbs over you in a mirror of the position you took just earlier.
"I-I want this," he whispers into your ear, biting down lightly on your lobe.
Glad you already have the tincture tucked underneath the pillow, you retrieve it and pop it open. Slathering one hand in the slimy liquid, you start stroking your cock with it. It's lubed basically near the start, but you can't help but play with yourself as you stare at Fenborz' manly body contrasting with his face, brimming with youth and uncertainty. As much as you'd love to just finish yourself off then and there, you know you still have to give Fenborz an enjoyable ride. You gesture to your cock.
Fenborz nods, but wisely takes the tincture himself. Perhaps recounting what he read in the novels, he preps himself. It's not proper, really- he's mostly just sloshing the lube directly into his hole and then massaging it around rather than truly stretching it out. He'll learn in time.
With that done, he slides onto you slowly. His tight walls squeeze around your head- he stopped there, legs trembling in pleasure. He's already moaning softly, too. If you were in a more sadistic mood you'd grab his hips and force him down, but you've already decided to take a submissive role. Damn if it isn't hard seeing him just barely inching down, though.
It repeats like that, with him sliding down and then taking a break. But, at some point, his legs give out. He lands on your hips, and you both feel the jolt of pain and pleasure there. Fenborz has your cock in a vice grip that takes your breath away, and though he tries to relax, he's still clutching so tightly around you. It's only when he fully regains control that he really lets go.
"So sudden," he murmurs breathlessly, clutching at the sheets beneath him. But it's not long after that he starts again. Up and down. He starts with a pace that, if you weren't balls deep inside of him, you could swear isn't actually doing anything. But before long he's really bouncing, dragging your dick with each roll of his hips. "Y-Yes... a little faster."
You aren't sure if that was meant for him or for you, but you assume it's the latter and begin thrusting into him harder and faster. His walls tighten around your cock with each stroke, and his moans only grow in volume. You can't help but writhe a little under the onslaught of his simmering tightness.
Reflexively, you reach for his hips, but his hands shoot out and grab your wrists. He pulls them up and above your head as he rises, almost to the point of popping off your dick entirely. You flail when he sits all the way back down, and you moan in unison.
He's the first to cum, spraying his seed all over your upper body. You're not long after, thrusting your hips up just twice more as you unload into him.
Fenborz has just enough energy to pick himself up and off of you before he collapses in the spot next to you. With one arm over his eyes and each breath making his hole leak with seed, thoughts of doing more run through your head. You choose not to follow them, not only because this is already an overwhelming experience, but because you simply have all the time in the world to train him further. He may be in the dominant role, but he'll be taking your dick like a proper sex slave either way.
You clean yourself up and leave Fenborz behind to do the same. When you [[exit->ChromoreConquestEnd]], it's with all the grace and dignity of a king- leaving the guards none the wiser as to how you fucked your 'guest'.The next day, two figures storm into your nearly-empty throne room, scorn in their eyes. You meet them with cold amusement, resting your head on your fist. Only Fiomuid stands with you. Shizomu watches from the rafters, cloaked in shadow.
The first is a taller man with graying hair and a closely-cropped but nonetheless full beard. He's dressed like an aristocrat, but without many of the fine embellishments such as frills or embroidery, preferring a sleeker and nearly entirely black cut. You know him as Blaylock, and the impatient way he taps his fingers on his cane only reinforces what you already know of him.
The second is a shorter man with hair in an array of colors. They're far too vibrant to be the result of any natural occurrence, even if his hair wasn't so evenly divided among them. He has a similar style to Blaylock in the cut and fit of his getup, but his is embellished with all sorts of hangings and tassels. You know him as Nicodemus, and the way he nibbles his bottom lip to show how upset he is only makes you more amused.
"You know why we're here," Blaylock says, not even attempting to hide the contempt in his gravelly voice.
"Destroying a train and the biggest airship in Chromore's arsenal is already a crime of the highest order, but you've dared to kidnap our colleague." Nicodemus adds, sticking an accusatory finger your way. You're glad you sent the regular guards out ahead of time- saves Fenborz' guise from being spoiled. "Release him at once and submit yourself to Chromore's jurisdiction so you may be judged properly."
You have half a mind to warn Nicodemus of how foolish his words are, standing in your very court with your general right next to you. But you don't let yourself be provoked. You've gone through this many times over since Fenborz officially started his life under your rule. Snapping your fingers, you look expectantly over to doors off to the side.
Fenborz strides through before the guards can fully open them. Though his garb is blue and yellow, resembling his former ensemble, his is the dress of a Wevendh nobleman. Your lips curl into a smile at the sight of the addition you made just recently; a collar around his neck, a dragon stepping atop a gear. Fenborz took to it surprisingly well. Despite knowing the symbolism, he's more than happy to show it off as long as he's still free to invent. He makes his way almost proudly over to his former colleagues.
"So you've chosen sense." Blaylock says to you, relief even surpassing the shock of seeing Fenborz so exposed. "Come, let's get that ridiculous collar off-"
"You're still so utterly selfish."
Blaylock and Nicodemus alike shake their head, surprise turning to full shock at Fenborz' words. Nicodemus looks nervously between the two before letting out an awkward laugh. He slides next to Fenborz.
"Yeah, I know Blaylock dragged out your rescue. I was totally saying, 'hey, we should get a move on,' but he's such a stickler for details. Let's get going already so we can punish the guy who got you in this mess, yeah? We've already spoken with Frateo-" Nicodemus continues to prattle on reaching out to grab Fenborz' hand.
//Smack.//
"Don't touch me!" Fenborz screams in a burst of anger. "You haven't even asked me how I've been or if anything happened to me. You're so... caught up running this dream of yours that you've lost sight of me."
Blaylock shakes his head and softens his tone. "We were only trying to keep poise in front of a despicable enemy."
Fenborz laughs harshly. "Despicable enemy? Yes, I suppose that's an apt description. Yes, I'm still bitter that he ruined my train and my airship, but he has an abundance of something that you two have been lacking for years: honesty. He... he made me do things I wouldn't have even dreamed of doing, and it's all to his benefit. But at least he's man enough to tell me to my face. I know when he's going to use me and how. I... I don't know with the two of you. I look at you and I see the faces of the people I became friends with all those years ago, but I can't find those people in you anymore."
Nicodemus, who was listening with his mouth agape, sputters into a reply. "OK, OK, we may have been too busy to talk with you properly. But we're still your friends, Fenny. We're just trying to protect Chromore because it means so much to you."
"It. Does. Not!" Fenborz bristles visibly with rage. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to say no to your friends in confidence, only for them to turn around and corner you with a crowd of merchants? It hurt. It hurt so badly that I wanted to cry then and there. But you told me it would be all right. I wouldn't have to do anything, really. We'd be a triumvirate, and you two would handle all the details."
"Is that not true?" Blaylock finally snaps with annoyance. "You're utterly lost on anything political. You refuse to get into the economic. Your research into food is sporadic and non-mass-reproducible. We even write your speeches for you. All you have to do is repeat it."
"That's not- you shouldn't have said it like that," Nicodemus frowns.
Fenborz starts crying, tears accompanying his anger-fueled shaking. "I told you I didn't want it, and you ignored it. Fine. You then assigned me to a task that involves presenting myself to other people, instead of Nicodemus. I... I can't believe you forgot so quickly. You were there. No- you were helping me make my mask and robe. And do you know what I said to you then?"
Blaylock remains tight-lipped.
"I told you I hated being seen. From the time I was born, people told me I was blessed to have such a beautiful face. But it overshadowed every single thing I ever did. Painting. Pottery. Gardening. I'd throw myself at any and everything, and I was showered with praise and affection... but not because of what I'd made. It was never because of that. So when I found the both of you, who actually paid attention to the things I made and even talked to me about the possibilities of tomorrow, I thought I found people who truly understood me." Fenborz sighs. "But I understand now. I understand why you made me a figurehead."
Nicodemus smacks Blaylock harshly on the arm, adding a glare for good measure. He then turns and smiles softly at Fenborz. "I'm glad you understand, then."
You recognize it immediately as an attempt to ingratiate himself without knowing what Fenborz actually means. But you stay out of it- the matter is far too personal for you to interject.
"It's because you didn't want to risk your lives. We've discussed this, of course. I told you about how an assassin scaled my building and nearly killed me. I thought I'd find comforting words, perhaps even the option to step down. But no- you just discussed security measures. And it was the same with the next. And the next. And the next. I even had to start making weapons just to sleep at night."
Nicodemus' smile turned into a frown some time ago, but it only deepened the more Fenborz spoke. "We were risking our lives too-"
"YOU WEREN'T THE ONE WHO WAS KIDNAPPED!" Fenborz screams, startling even you. He grabs at the collar he has on. "Never once have you two told me about any assailant targeting you. It's because they don't see you as threats. I'm the threat, the one to be attacked, conquered, taken away as a prize! And look! Look, goddamnit! I'm owned! So stop lying to me! Please! For once in your lives tell me the truth!"
The room falls into a deadly silence, and you don't even breathe for the fear of messing something up somehow. Fiomuid looks nervously over to you, but you shake your head. They're not going to resort to violence now.
Finally, Nicodemus joins Fenborz in his bout of crying. "I'm sorry."
This time, Fenborz doesn't reject the contact. He accepts Nicodemus' embrace wholeheartedly.
Your eyes flicker to Blaylock, who looks utterly humiliated. He takes just one step toward Fenborz before thinking better of it and walking away. His grip around his cane is weak, and uncertain.
Fenborz and Nicodemus share a whispered conversation before they both nod at each other. They both turn toward you, but it's Nicodemus who speaks. "This whole thing has made me realize that we're not really cut out for this whole 'ruling' thing. None of us are. It kind of... not kind of, it completely ruined our relationships. All three of us are officially out of Chromore's running. I had an idea, but it wasn't the best-"
"He wanted to dissolve Chromore entirely and let the people deal with the resulting anarchy and power vacuum." Fenborz chuckles.
Nicodemus pouts and hits Fenborz' arm, albeit in a playful fashion. "I said it wasn't the best! Anyway, Fenny gave me a much better idea. We're just going to give Chromore over to you. I'm sure Blaylock will be pissed off, but it's a majority decision even if he disagrees. The only condition is that me and Blaylock can get to see Fenborz from time to time. We have a looot to fix, after all."
"Of course," you say graciously.
You're just glad that you didn't have to pull as many strings as you normally would to gain control of a rival nation. There are many things to do now, but the first will be updating the maps. (link:"Wevendh's dominion has just expanded.")[(set:$endChromore to true)(set:$conquerChromore to true)(set:$endCount to $endCount+1)(goto:"NationHub")]
Reaper, Reaper, That's What People Call Me