Princess Deidri stands up straight to address you. "Ah, honored mage, how fare you? I was just reminiscing a bit."\n\n"My apologies for interrupting," you reply, feeling sheepish. \n\n"No, not at all." Even at her young age, she demonstrates both the strength of her father and the patience of her late mother. With a gentle smile she tilts her head and regards the sheathed short sword in your hands. "Not usually your instrument of choice, eh?"\n\n"Oh, this--yes, King Nordyn dispatched me to the armory to select a secondary weapon for you, an enchanted one, in preparation for, well, whatever may come. This sword is well forged and appears none the worse for wear. My initial impressions of it are favorable, though it seemed to resist my first attempt at identification."\n\n"Ah, Father is always looking out for me, isn't he? That is a curious blade, though."\n\n"Yes, it has a pale glow all along its length. Normally it is green, but when you turn it one way it is blue. Turn it the other way, and it is yellow."\n\n"Intriguing," she answers. "Might you try [[identifying it again|Digging down deep]]? I should like to know what kind of sword might replace my trusty spear."
//Gods, no, why does it have to be this insufferable--// "All right, then, if he wishes." \n\n//Let's see this letter: "Most regrettable...suitable substitute... He is knowledgeable, curious, bright... He is young and talented...deserves to share in our fledgling Historical Academy's discoveries..." What? That's why he sent the golden boy? But this isn't just the Academy's endeavor--it is mine! Augh!//\n\nQuietly the Lecturer steps toward the ruins. "Shall we get started, Lore Mistress? I'm sure we have much to discover inside."\n\nThough they look to be only a single story, the relatively intact portions of the ruins remain impressive. The closest apparent door is blocked by thick clusters of greenery. A few paces away and around a corner, however, is another door that seems to have been recently freed of obstructions, the ivy hacked away by a sharp-edged weapon.\n\n//Crooks and vandals.// "Let us go this way, Lecturer. And let us hope that the delvers haven't already [[stripped this place clean|Looting]]."
//Unbelievable. Strange things are going on here, but I'm not being paid to stay and learn the details.// "Listen, my lovely, I am saddened by your plight, but we cannot talk more--"\n\n"No, please, hear me. Allow me to accompany you on your journey," the high acolyte begs, her comely face displaying a mix of urgency and determination.\n\n"I, um, can't do that. I never--"\n\n"I must go tonight, while I am in possession of my mind. I ask only for your company, for your protection, until we reach a town. I thought I would leave here alone, and I realize that you are a thief, but...I feel some sort of connection. Maybe the gods sent you here tonight for a reason."\n\n"What? Hah, no, that can't--wait, what was that sound?"\n\nThe priestess of Conventus, resplendent in her blue robes, appears in the corridor. "I am disappointed," she says, expressionless, as she approaches at a deliberate pace. \n\n//Damn, the potion was too weak. I--I can already feel her intruding, at the edges of my thoughts. Creeping in...//\n* [[Stay in place, touch the sword, and hope that its enchantment can help.|In contact]]\n* [[Back up toward the rear door and try to get out fast.|Keep out]]\n
"All right, all right." He eyes his rapidly dwindling stack of coins, fingers a few, and reluctantly throws them in. As he shifts his considerable weight in his chair, something at his hip catches the lantern light and gleams briefly.\n\n//A jewel in the pommel? Awfully fancy, for him.// "Uh, say...how long have you had [[that thing|Awfully fancy]]? Nice."
"So how've you done with the ladies lately?"\n\n"You going to lay down your cards, or what?"\n\n"Oh, yeah. Take a look."\n\n//Just as I suspected.// "Beat you silly there."\n\n"Damn it." He grabs his mug, takes a healthy swig, and then sets it down. "You are too lucky. My deal, right?" He shuffles the deck a bit clumsily but gets the job done, dealing the next hand with a few nonchalant tosses. "You haven't answered me."\n\n//That green glow...the timing of it...I have a hunch.//\n* [[(Lie) "Had one just the other day, actually. Shy in the evening, insatiable in the morning."|Top that]]\n* [[(Slap coins on the table, hard) "In for 15. And that ain't your business."|Butt out]]\n
"I understand, master. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to witness this."<<set $bless = $bless + 1>>\n\n<<display "Ritual proceeds">>
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Clutching his temples, he grits his teeth in agony as the sound changes into a low, menacing hum and the ground vibrates. "What...what is this...this force I'm sensing? Gods! Stop it, stop it, please!"\n\nThen, as quickly as it appeared, the writhing distortion vanishes, the hum and vibration ending along with it. Immediately, however, comes the sound of grinding and crumbling, and the sickening sensation of the floor shifting and buckling underfoot--\n\n"No, get back!" His grip is swift and sure. A few chunks of stone plummet, leaving a small gap in the floor. Before long, all is quiet once again.\n\n"By the gods! I--I have to thank you, Lecturer."\n\n"Apologies for being so forward," he replies, dusting off his coat. "But you are welcome. Now, let us see if the surrounding floor is solid enough to permit us out of this room."\n\nFortunately, it proves to be so, and with the orb leading the way, the journey back through the passages, through the prayer hall, and past the corpse of the unfortunate delver is uneventful.\n\nIt is a certain comfort to breathe in the fresh air and bask in the warmth of the midmorning sun of the Bondillar Highlands. The Lecturer makes a quick external inspection of the ruins. "I see no outer sign of that bizarre distortion having affected anything. It seems to have come and gone [[harmlessly|Work to do]]."
As the boy whips back to the pot and ladles extra soup to make up the difference--splattering still more on the floor--he wrinkles his nose. "You're not my mama! You can't tell me what to do!" With a final display of his tongue, he dashes for the door.\n\n<<display "Now that hes gone">>
"I've taken the pot off the fire, master. Setting the table now."<<set $bless = $bless + 1>>\n\n<<display "Mealtime">>
//Never been much of a talker. Need some assistance.// "Another round, on me." <<set $curse = $curse + 2>>\n\n"That's a first. But I ain't one to refuse!"\n\nThe tavern maid brings the mugs, and the card game continues, the ale quickly downed along the way. The next few hands, however, follow the same trend they always have.\n\n//Quick work, as usual.// "Looks like it's my win."\n\n"Gods, you've cleaned me out again! You are so damn good at this!" He wipes his brow as he slumps back in his seat. "Guess I gotta call it a night."\n\n"Hold on--I want to give you a sporting chance. Let's say I put half the pile in, and you put up something else, like...oh, I don't know...maybe [[that sword|Wanna bet]] or whatever."
"I am certainly pleased to try again, Your Highness."\n\nYou grasp the blade's hilt and utter the identification spell, and your power surges, opening a window in your mind. As before, the enchantment in the sword seems to push back at you, almost complaining about the intrusion, and beyond that you get a sense of confusion and dissatisfaction.\n\nThis time, however, your magic breaks through. Suddenly you see this weapon's history, spanning a number of years. Some of the experiences of its many wielders are particularly clear, as if you were observing life through their eyes.\n\nBorn of a profoundly misunderstood ritual, this blade became aware and launched a quest to comprehend its purpose. It adapted its abilities to each owner and potential owner, attempting to serve their needs. It fed off these people--and sometimes influenced them in turn. And it kept resisting full identification as long as it was unsure of its own destiny.\n\nIt bears an enchantment capable of causing devastation. But its myriad wielders were human, after all, and sometimes they made decisions out of cowardice, ignorance, or haste, whereas other times they made their choices out of prudence, patience, or affinity. And the sword tried to [[learn from them|Middling student]].
Nothing--no green flash. //Damn, thought I'd figured it out.//\n\n"Gods, you gotta loosen up. What's the point if you can't brag about it?"\n\n"I just like keeping my exploits to myself, is all." //So where is that glow coming from?//\n\n<<display "Next hand">>
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"Guard! Use this!"\n\nThe narrow space between the cart and crates allows only a little room for movement. Tossed in a low arc, the strange sword lands on the dusty road and skids to a stop a couple of paces away from the guard's desperately outstretched hand.<<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nNow towering above the guard, the hoodlum raises his sword and draws it down in one brutal motion. The guard tries to roll toward the strange blade, but he is not quite fast enough. He screams as the bandit's weapon drives into his shoulder.\n\nDespite the pain and blood, however, the guard reaches the glowing blade. Seeming to enjoy a second wind, he struggles to his feet--to the bandit's surprise. The guard capitalizes on the criminal's hesitation and goes on the offensive.\n\nThe guard swings relentlessly at the highwayman, who despite his alarm just manages to deflect the blows. Finally, after one well-placed stab with the strange short sword, [[the bandit falls|Cart bandit]].
"You two!" the tavern maid shouts above the rising murmurs of the gambling crowd, stabbing her finger toward the door.\n\nThe night air is brisk, and smells of produce and grain. "Over there," he growls. He leads the way to a quiet dead-end alley alongside one of the warehouses, and stops in a spot only barely illuminated by the street lanterns. "Spill it."\n\n"What?"\n\n"Come off it! You really thought I couldn't hold my liquor? I may be a little woozy, but I still got my eyes and my brains!" He sighs. "I thought we were friends."\n\n"I'm sorry I tried that on you."\n\n"Okay, so tell me: Why do you want this sword so bad?"\n* [["It's nice, like I said. I think it's worth a lot. I just wanted to raise the stakes, make the game exciting."|High stakes]]\n* [["Here's the truth, I swear. I think it has more power than the identifying mage told you about."|More power]]\n
At the kitchen table, Uncle is serving two bowls of chicken and vegetable soup. "Sit, child. Partake while it's hot." The other servants of the manor occasionally enter to ladle their own bowls, slipping out again to take their supper to their communal dining area.\n\n"I cannot just yet, Uncle. His Lordship has returned."\n\nEyes widening, the cook turns quickly to the grill, and instantly he produces the platter of beef and carrots that he had been keeping warm. "Go on. And here--the fruit salad."\n\nBack in the dining hall, the lord barely manages to suppress a sigh as he digs into his supper. Neat and composed though he appears, the long ride has exhausted him. "No, darling, absolutely not. I just saw almost 'everyone' at Castle Elyspire."\n\nThe lady clucks her tongue as she pierces a carrot slice with her fork. "You merely talked strategy and politics with them. And you didn't see their spouses."\n\nBy this time, the lord has already wolfed down half of his portion of beef. He shakes his head slowly, and then glances up. "Maid, you are [[dismissed|Those people again]]."
In the flickering torchlight, the many piles of decaying timber cast overlapping shadows on the walls. "Holding pens?" The Lecturer says as he rummages through the mess. "They couldn't have kept creatures here, isolated from sunlight, fresh air, and water."\n\n//The chime is getting louder right around here, I think.// "Would you help me move some of this debris, please?"\n\n"Certainly. Please stand back." After he flips his palm up, speaks a few quiet words, and performs several quick, slight gestures, the jagged, dangerously splintered pieces of wood obediently float away from the wall, settling in a new pile several feet distant.\n\nA crack in the wall about knee height is now visible. //That has to be it! Don't want to get my fingers stuck. There!//\n<blockquote>Outrage! Keril is dead, ripped apart! He was as a brother to me, and inspired hope in so many of us. He refused to polish their damned pets' chains, so they threw him to the ravenous beasts! They keep their horrific creatures in luxury above, while... Ah, I must pause. The heat smothers us. I must try to secure some water for my dear wife. She is grieving, and, of course, in her condition...</blockquote>At the end of the room stands another door, where the chime rings again faintly. //I need more.// "Let us move along, Lecturer."\n\n"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to--"\n\n"We'll take care of that pottery room [[on the way back|Plowing on]]."
Suddenly, the fire fiend roars, louder than a chief ever has, loud enough to make the ears ring. Suddenly, an odd, disquieting sound--not unlike a clap of thunder but deeper, felt more than heard--splits the air. Suddenly, more stomping comes from close behind, and heat envelops the area. And suddenly, everything is clear.\n\n//You planned, schemed. And you came back to bait me. I never knew you beasts had it in you. Or that you could control your...journey...so precisely. That is grave news indeed.//\n\nAlthough the world remains a cloudy, smoky blur, it seems appropriate to turn and face the newly arrived chief standing just a few paces away. And as that fiend begins to emit the peculiar rumbling that signals the launch of a charged stun attack, it seems appropriate to say a few words.\n\n[["Don't cry, love."|Gamblers begin]]\n
//Ooh--she's easy on the eyes. Reminds me of the lass at Kriegar Inn last month. Under better circumstances...ah, well.// "Begging your pardon, kind miss. I didn't mean to frighten you." <<set $bless = $bless + 2>>\n\nDressed in robes of a subtle peach hue, the willowy young woman stands rooted behind the altar, her shaking hand grasping a knife. "Who are you? You aren't of the faith. And no one is supposed to be in the hall at night."\n\n"I am a potential initiate. This afternoon I visited the commune and observed the prayer, and then the priestess invited me to...discuss matters."\n\nShe frowns in confusion. Immediately her bright, alert eyes jump to the sword. "No one may be armed here! How did you--" In the next second, she recognizes it, and claps her free hand over her mouth. At last she whispers, "The priestess almost always keeps the sword on her person. Is she--?"\n\n//So much for the cover story. Nothing left but to be honest.// "No, fear not, lovely. I merely take things, not lives."\n\nShe glances at the satchel, then at the altar. "So you have [[beaten me to the punch|That was my idea]]."
//What timing.// "Beautiful, considering that neither of us should be here in the hall, would you be amenable to moving our conversation to a more private location?"\n\n"How do I know you won't just kill me there?"\n\n"As I said, that isn't my line of work. And it is most certainly not my preferred approach to the fairer sex."\n\nShe sighs and glances worriedly toward the closed door to the priestess's chambers. "There are no private locations in the commune. Follow me into the corridor. Keep your hands where I can see them, away from the sword."\n\nHalfway down the dim, narrow, and stuffy corridor, she stops, staying some distance away. "Now tell me," she says, "how you were planning to leave with the items."\n\n"I see no reason to lie, considering that knife you're still pointing at me. I intend to depart just as I came in. After the corridor and that rear door down there--now most likely locked, as it is the evening--it's the plaza, with the trade and work houses on either side. And though the commune has a high surrounding wall, the portion behind the storehouse is somewhat in disrepair, and is thus the best spot for [[climbing over|Great escape]]."
''On a scavenger's cart amid a merchant caravan, on a broad dirt road winding through a valley half a day's trek from the capital city of Elyston, as gloomy clouds threaten...''\n\n"Do you believe in destiny, old man?"\n\n//Where did that come from? Better just keep staring ahead at the road. Don't want to encourage him.// "Er...can't say I've thought about it."\n\nThe young, jovial guard continues marching--sauntering, really--alongside the cart, easily keeping pace in spite of his laughter. "You haven't? Not at all? Hah--no wonder you're stuck doing this for a living."\n\n//Augh...I know where this is going.//\n* [[Flick the reins to pull ahead, and hope that the cheerful guard starts yammering to the next guy.|Giddyup]]\n* [[Look the youthful guard straight in the eye and educate him.|Life lesson]]\n
Thanks to quick reflexes, catching the high acolyte before she hits the floor is no problem. //Don't worry, beautiful, I have you.//\n\nThe high acolyte opens her eyes--and they are distant, unfocused. "Want the relics," she whispers. "Must stop the thief." \n\nHer knife flashes.\n\n//Augh--my arm! The pain...!// \n\nBut it is the subsequent bombardment from the priestess that hurts even more.\n\n//Reeling again...sick...can't... Falling...// The floor is cold and hard. //Spinning, hurting, shaking...bleeding...ill. Want to sleep...rest...relax. Want to hold her. And her, too. Want both. Warm. Silky. Soft. Need...//\n\nBarely discernible through blurred vision, the beautiful priestess bends down, gently removing the satchel and unbuckling the sword belt. "Fret not," she says, her voice melodic. "My high acolyte is back in the fold. And it will be quick work to heal your wound." She smiles sweetly. "We will heal your mind, too, my [[new companion|Noble begins]]."
Screaming furiously, the two scouts break their deliberate pace and come racing in, their auras crackling to life. //Fire!//\n\nThis time, there is no satisfying thwack, but one beast grunts and pauses briefly. //Damn. Must have grazed it.// The other scout charges forth, undeterred. A few seconds later, they are both on the attack.\n\nThe strange sword, despite its light weight, proves quite capable of deflecting the scouts' frenzied swipes and bites. And despite their searing auras and their bone-shaking howls, battling the fiends remains a matter of instinct and intuition, dodging their moves and matching their mindless ferocity blow for blow.\n\nBefore long, they are both beheaded. //Hah--still got it.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Puqbylk.<<becomes>>Injured.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//Just a scratch. And I told you to be silent.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Adv joplmz holhk. Uv ullk av hslya aolt.<<becomes>>Two chiefs ahead. No need to alert them.<<endhoverreplace>>\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n//A pack never has two chiefs. You are mistaken, sword. Nevertheless, I must slaughter any fiends I find, and time runs short.//\n* [[Press forward to confront whatever kinds of fiends await.|Throw yourself in]]\n* [[Wait patiently and listen for any fiends.|Anticipation]]\n<<else>>\n//A pack never has two chiefs. Do you exist to sabotage my efforts? I must slaughter all fiends, and time runs short.//\n* [[Push forward to find any remaining fiends and stop them quickly.|Throw yourself in]]\n* [[Linger here and listen for any fiends.|Anticipation]]\n<<endif>>
//Gods...I never thought I'd be present at one's arrival.//\n\nThe incapacitated chief remains in place, growling and wheezing impotently, the effects of the two bolts holding it still and preventing the lighting of its aura.\n\nA few words seem appropriate. "You planned, you waited, and then you came back to finish me off. I didn't think you beasts could scheme like this." Plunging stabs with the strange sword pierce the fiend's thick, pebbly skin easily and sink into its flesh, prompting howls. "And I also didn't think you fiends could control your...journey...so precisely." Swings of the strange sword carve deep gashes, and the chief falls to the ground. "That is grave news indeed. I shall take these lessons to heart." Several hacks with the sword and a few seconds of sawing with the serrated dagger later, the confrontation is at an end.\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Tbjo av aopur hivba.<<becomes>>Much to think about.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n"Yes, including what I will do with you, blade." A deep sigh. "But first, the trek to town." The winds pick up again slightly, their scent clean. "I'm [[coming back|Gamblers begin]], love."
"Carry it if you want, but my staff is quite enough, thank you."<<set $curse = $curse + 2>>\n\n"As you will." He examines the belt and scabbard, and after deciding that they are too worn, he removes the sword and then slips it into the available loop on his own belt. A little too reverently, he places the unwanted belt and scabbard at the side of their deceased owner. "I should note that this blade is enchanted. Though I pray we will not need it, perhaps its magic will be of assistance."\n\n"Enchanted? What does it do?"\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\nAt this query the Lecturer clears his throat, slightly abashed. "Er, that I cannot say. I do not know the identification spell. I can merely detect objects' magical bent." He points to the blade, which is glowing a pale blue-green. "And it is visible to the naked eye, in this case."\n<<else>>\nAt this query he clears his throat, slightly abashed. "Er, that I cannot say. I do not know the identification spell. I can merely detect objects' magical bent." He points to the blade, which is glowing a pale yellow-green. "And it is visible to the naked eye, in this case."\n<<endif>>\n//Ah hah! Finally, something the pride of the Academy cannot do.// "Let it not concern you overmuch, then. I simply thought--"\n\n"Oh, no worries," he says, shrugging off his awkwardness. "I am not a trained mage, after all. I would have chafed in an apprenticeship." He heads toward the next chamber of the ruins. "Just [[natural talent|Work of art]]."
Lore
"If you don't know what it's capable of, man, you should just ditch it, soon. Cursed weapons become permanently attached, and start sucking your life force away. That's what I've heard, at least."\n\nHis reaction is hard to read; for a few moments he fingers the jewel in the pommel. "And shopkeepers won't buy cursed stuff," he says.\n\n"They sure don't." //I hope I sound appropriately worried.// "The only way to get rid of a cursed item is for someone to willingly, knowingly accept it from you."\n\n"I've heard that too," he mutters. In the next breath, however, his tone grows brighter. "But I've also heard that cursed weapons can do a lot more things, if you're lucky. Maybe it has other powers, and I just need to figure them out. Maybe..."\n\n//Damn it...// "Yeah, but...but...what about the [[life-sucking|Life sink]] part?"
The green flash is quick and vivid. <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\n"Hah! Excuse me for being more of a man than you," he says, crossing his arms and grinning smugly as he leans back in his chair. His movement exposes the hilt of the sword, causing it to protrude forward a bit at his hip, and the jeweled pommel gleams.\n\n"Yeah, well, you ought to be better equipped if you're going to run around 'convincing' other armed people to settle their disputes."\n\n"What the hell are you talking about?"\n\n"Your sword. You said it's too light and too short. You need something that feels better, something more reliable and imposing."\n\n"It's--it's good enough. It cuts when it has to. Stabs when it has to."\n\n"You don't sound [[entirely satisfied|Your money back]]."
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''The day of the governor's visit, midmorning...''\n\n"Well, Uncle, I think I've prepared all the plates we need."\n\n"Excellent as always, child." The cook monitors the bubbling and sizzling pots and pans with a careful eye. \n\nThe steward pokes his head in for a brief moment. "He has arrived. The tour will be taking the usual route through the manor."\n\n"Goodness above! Thank you for the warning, sir." At the table in the back corner, the strange sword is emitting a lightly icy aura that envelops the desserts, a trio of fruit tarts with whipped topping. "Uncle, they're sure to visit the armory early on."\n\nThe cook sighs and regards the desserts regretfully. "Yes, child. I'll keep them on the real ice. Go ahead and take it back."\n\n//I've never held a magic weapon before. How strange it is.// Picking the blade up and wrapping it in the cloth causes the cold aura to dissipate. Even bundled up like this, the sword feels [[lighter than expected|To the armory]].
"Everyone knows how you have protected them. I know," she said tenderly. \n\n"And if I were to go back on my word now, I would become known as the man who abandoned them."\n\n"But everyone says that you have already done more than enough, over just a few years. You've stopped many fire fiends."\n\n"And yet my obligation as an Immune remains. It will never end. People have certain expectations of those few of us who commit to the responsibility. I can't have them [[saying that I turned away|Different now]]."
Touching the jeweled pommel of the sword is enough to send a calming wave that eases the nausea and pain, and briefly sweeps the whispers away. "You know, priestess, I admire your power, your vision. And your other assets, I admit." <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nResponding with an enigmatic smile, she says, "You would make an excellent companion. You embrace your desires quite eagerly."\n\n//She knows...she sees. So forceful... No, stop...// Grasping the sword's grip produces another feeling of clarity and self-control. "I wouldn't enjoy the constant manipulation."\n\n"I do no such thing. I merely bring to the surface the wishes that companions already possess. Fulfilling wishes is the driving force of life, and thus the way to unity."\n\nThe high acolyte presses her free hand to the wall and straightens slightly, though her head remains bowed. "No limits, no caution, no inhibition, in anything," she murmurs, her cracking voice trailing off.\n\n//I can't see her face. I can't tell how she is.// "Priestess, you're eroding your people's will."\n\n"To desire is to live. To pursue what you desire is to thrive." The priestess allows herself a chuckle. "You [[live that way|I know you are]], thief. In more ways than one."
//Stand up, you idiot! Flee!// The trees and bushes seem impossibly distant.<<set $curse = $curse + 2>>\n\n//My legs...too weak...hurting everywhere...// Running turns to stumbling turns to collapsing.\n\nOne bandit, near the next wagon in front, pivots at just that moment. The brigand raises his bow and readies an arrow.\n\n//N-no, he sees me! Gods, help me!// The heart stops, turning to a leaden weight, and all turns cold. \n\nBut the arrow never flies. \n\nWith the swing of a sword, someone knocks the bow out of the bandit's hands, and it and the arrow clatter to the ground. The young guard, who had been so talkative and carefree mere moments ago, scowls in determination as he raises his weapon to strike the criminal again.\n\n//Get away, now!// With the immediate danger past, scrambling [[behind the shrubs|Hunker down]] seems to take no time at all.
The next chamber is larger than the entrance. Its ceiling, with far fewer cracks in it, seems less at risk of collapsing, and its walls--interrupted by only a couple of narrow open windows--appear more solid too.\n\nIvy sprawls across most of the far wall. As he navigates the rubble-strewn room to examine it, his glowing orb follows. The extra light is a boon, as near the wall the floor seems to drop away. "Ho there," he exclaims as he stops short. "A descending staircase. Looks like it was covered by a trapdoor; the delvers must have opened it." He turns his head to the left. "And we have a doorway to another room on this level."\n\n"So the compound is more expansive than we thought." //I have to note this: "In contrast to the other, smaller First Days ruins I have studied, this one is not only larger on the surface but is also subterranean. Do the other locations have concealed trapdoors? Must reinvestigate them. Regardless, the feel in this room--it is very much like that of the other ruins, almost foreign, and not quite right. I cannot put my finger on it."//\n\n"Something is here under the ivy!" he exclaims as he cuts away the leaves with his personal blade. When a large portion of the wall is bare, he steps back in admiration. "A relief carving!" Excitedly he rifles through his sack, withdrawing a large sheet of parchment and a [[stick of charcoal|What a relief]].
"Yes, we must tell the Master of these findings. The Council will be pleased. Worry not: I am certain they will order further investigations, and you will have that carving."\n\nHis mumbled reply suggests that he is not entirely convinced. "I pray so. We should also report on that strange, terrible sound, and the magical distortion I felt. Maybe the Master will offer some insight on the cause." Surprisingly, though, his mood lightens a little. "But you have not had a chance to read that last journal piece, have you?"\n\n"Ah, of course!"\n<blockquote>They have power abundant, wild and unleashed. They exploit it with cruel impunity. Oh, Holy Sovereign, your words to me--it pains me to know that such misery is not isolated to our humble tribe. But my faith in you and your cohort grows stronger by the day. All we want is to live free. Someday soon we will. From the cellars, the caves, the mines, the burrows--we all will.</blockquote>The Lecturer shakes his head solemnly. "If only we knew a little more about this poor wretch, and his tormentors."\n\n//There is much knowledge to be gleaned from these records--whatever I find is sure to bolster my career. But I cannot help feeling uneasy about how much we are still missing.// "Yes, I am ashamed that we knew nothing of such oppression in our history."\n\n"Do not let it trouble you," he answers, his smile unexpectedly genuine. "We have started on the path to the truth. That can only benefit mankind [[in the end|Begin the end]]."
"She wishes to know your 'secret.' As do I. You chased me away earlier this evening."\n\nHe taps the excess soup from the ladle. "Well, er...tell her the usual."\n\nIn the dining hall, the lady of the manor eagerly stabs her fork and knife into the beef, her lips spreading into a wide grin with every sumptuous bite. "Well?"\n\n"Milady, he says he was experimenting again."\n\n"Hmph--he is such an eccentric." Her eyes narrow in annoyance, but the reaction soon passes as she claps in delight. "Oh--but this is glorious!"\n\nA gravelly, world-weary voice interrupts the conversation. "Glorious, darling? What is, exactly?" The gray-haired lord of Nivean Pass strides into the room, his finely tailored riding clothes impeccable despite his long journey.\n\n"Dearest! Welcome home!" She springs from the table and hurries to her husband, clasping his hands in hers and brushing a kiss against his cheek.\n\n//He's at least an hour early!// "Milord, please do not bother to summon the steward. I will return with your supper."\n\nThe lord offers only the barest wave of his hand in reply as he [[claims his seat|Early return]].
"Fine, then. This will do." //I must don this belt correctly, else he'll notice. Is it this way? Hm...opposite of the hand that draws it...ah, yes.// <<set $bless = $bless + 2>> <<set $minisword = true>>\n\n"That blade is enchanted, Lore Mistress. Though I pray you will not need it, perhaps its magic will be of assistance."\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n"Enchanted?" Gingerly pulling the sword only partially from its worn, loose-fitting scabbard reveals a blade that glows a pale blue-green. "What does it do?"\n<<else>>\n"Enchanted?" Gingerly pulling the sword only partially from its worn, loose-fitting scabbard reveals a blade that glows a pale yellow-green. "What does it do?"\n<<endif>>\nAt this query he clears his throat, slightly abashed. "Er, that I cannot say. I do not know the identification spell. I can merely detect objects' magical bent."\n\n//Ah hah! Finally, something the pride of the Academy cannot do.// "Let it not concern you overmuch, then. I simply thought--"\n\n"Oh, no worries," he says, shrugging off his awkwardness. "I am not a trained mage, after all. I would have chafed in an apprenticeship." He heads toward the next chamber of the ruins. "Just [[natural talent|Work of art]]."
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//I don't have much leeway; dusk will soon be upon us.// The first bolt flies toward the slender shadow, followed rapidly by a second. Both bolts hit, and the scout wails as it falls, the horrid sound alerting the nearby chief. <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nManiacal stomping, frantic bellowing, the crackling of a flame aura. //Here it comes.//\n\nOne bolt, two bolts. The stomping ceases. //I think I heard at least one of the bolts strike.//\n\nSuddenly, the fiend roars, louder than a chief ever has, loud enough to make the ears ring. In answer, a bizarre, unnerving sound, like a clap of thunder but deeper, felt more than heard, splits the air. Soon, more stomping--a steady, regular rhythm--arises from the left, and a second chief comes barreling in, [[on the attack|Fight them off]].
"I could see that the distortion caused you agony, Lecturer. I--I am sorry that neither of us came out of this endeavor unscathed."\n\n"Ah, it was not lasting," he replies, averting his eyes. "I don't know what I felt, exactly, but it was filling my head, resonating. How do I express this? It was magic, but inverted, in opposition. It felt wrong." A slight snap of his hand dismisses the glowing orb, and he indicates the gently sloping path to the south. "Do you feel confident about walking the short distance to the horses?"\n\n"Yes. Um--I wish to thank you. For getting me out of there."\n\n"You are welcome, Lore Mistress," he answers quietly as he pauses to adjust his sword belt and the two blades hanging from it. "I regret that we must wait before returning and finding more answers."\n\n"We do still have much to report to the Academy Master."\n\n"Indeed. We should relate everything we can remember about that distortion. He might be able to cast some light on what it means."\n\nIn the soft breezes and warm midmorning sunlight of the Bondillar Highlands, the heart finds some peace. The ruins may still hold unsettling mysteries, but at this moment it is sufficient to know that the [[journey toward the truth|Begin the end]] continues, little by little.
His cheeks flushing from the ale, he stares at the glinting pile of coins. "Naw--I gotta go." He begins to rise, though his balance is a little off.\n\n//Damn it!// "I'm giving you another shot. Don't you want to reclaim your share?"\n\nHe flops down into the seat but then immediately tries to stand again, a task that becomes a bit more challenging by the second. "It sounds so good, but--man, you almost always beat me. I keep trying, but--"\n\n"So try again. Your luck's bound to change. Just, you know, bet the sword or something, that's all."\n\nHaving successfully gotten to his feet, he hesitates, wavering only slightly. His eyes jump from the coins to the cards and then back again.\n\n//What's he hung up on?//\n\nIn the blink of an eye, he whips out the blade and brandishes it, his face twisted into a scowl. "You want the damn sword so bad, I'll give it to you, [[right into your gut|Take it outside]]!"
"I won't pry, old man. I was just curious," the guard says with a hint of a grin, strolling ahead of the cart a few paces as the road narrows and bends.\n\n<<display "Beside the point">>
"Thank you, master. I look forward to the event."<<set $bless = $bless + 1>>\n\n<<display "The pommel">>
"No!" the priestess shrieks, lunging forward. The high acolyte, however, blocks the way, brandishing the knife.\n\n"Don't stand there, thief! Take the relics and sword, weaken her! Please--aaahhh!" \n\nThe commune's plaza is populated, but the companions roaming about on this sultry, windless night are listless and vacant-eyed, so much so that they don't seem to notice the stranger dashing behind the storehouse to the portion of the high surrounding wall that is in slight disrepair. Up the handholds and footholds, and over--and a scramble through the hilly wilderness awaits.\n\n//Have to get to the clients' temple, have to hurry! They need to hear about this. Damn it, such a long way off! I'll...I'll go to the closest town, try to send a message ahead. Maybe they can dispatch help. They have to save her, save all of those people in there!//\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\nThough the relics in the satchel feel particularly heavy all of a sudden, the sword, hanging in its belt and glowing a pale blue-green, seems light, almost [[buoyant|Noble begins]].\n<<else>>\nThough the relics in the satchel feel particularly heavy all of a sudden, the sword, hanging in its belt and glowing a pale yellow-green, seems light, almost [[buoyant|Noble begins]].\n<<endif>>
//Ale would be a waste of coins. I should stretch this out until I can think of what to say without making him suspicious.// <<set $bless = $bless + 2>> "Hmm...in for 5." Clink.\n\nHe perks up. "Only 5?" After studying his hand, he flips more coins in with uncharacteristic panache. "Hah! Making it 10!"\n\n"If you insist..." Clink. "You said you had another merc assignment coming, maybe?"\n\n"Yeah, word is, we gotta get involved in some territorial dispute out east. Talking's done no good for these idiots."\n\n"Think it's going to flare up?" The first draw is mediocre. //Pretty confident I can still beat him, but...// "I fold."\n\nHe reclines in his chair, dumbfounded. "Really? You never do that! But I ain't gonna complain!" He scoops the pot to his side. "And no, this squabble isn't even worth the local lord's attention. But if it takes some muscle to 'convince' people to behave, that's what my pals and I will do." He shoves the deck of cards over. [["Your deal."|Convince me]]
"I fear, Lecturer, that this is only the beginning." //The words of Elys Stoneman, our first king! He was a slave--perhaps many more were! But to whom? There is still so much we do not know. I did not think I would be so distressed by such a discovery--this will define my career! But this means history as we know it is--// \n\nAbruptly the air fills with a startling and unnatural sound, akin to a clap of thunder but felt in the very marrow of one's bones.\n\nThe Lecturer presses his hands to his temples and grits his teeth in pain as the sound changes into a low, menacing hum and the ground vibrates. "What...what is this...this distortion I'm sensing? Gods! Stop it, stop it, please!"\n\nThen, as suddenly as it came into being, the sound ceases, and somehow the earth and the air return to normal. From overhead, however, particles of dirt begin to fall, and a new, subtle grinding suggests that the ruins' structural integrity may be at risk.\n\nIt takes mere minutes to dash back through the underground rooms, to the stairs, through the surface ruins, past the corpse of the unfortunate delver, and out into the [[fresh midmorning air|Wake up world]] of the Bondillar Highlands.
To the east, the trees become sparser, and the terrain hardens. The smell of otherworldly death hangs in the air. <<set $curse = $curse + 2>>\n\n//You are wrong, strange blade. The fiends await in this direction, near the peak's base.//\n\nThe last confrontation with the fire fiends, a little over two years ago, also occurred close to the foot of Greymire, but another ten minutes' hike to the north. There were four of them then: three slender, lithe scouts and one hulking chief. \n\nOrdinarily, four against one would not have been a problem. The beasts' dual auras--emanations that fomented petrifying fear in ordinary men before searing their flesh--were in full force, but the magic immunity neutralized the effects as always. \n\nOn that occasion, however, the fiends exhibited coordination instead of their usual savagery, and though the scouts were handily outmaneuvered and beheaded, the fight took just long enough to allow the chief to release a charged magical attack that the immunity could not block--a booming burst of unearthly, fiery light that stunned only briefly but permanently reduced vision to a cloudy, smoky blur.\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Jsbzalylk. Mpcl.<<becomes>>Clustered. Five.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//How do you know this?//\n\nThe blade does not reply. The only option is to [[creep forward|Creep forward]] in hiding among the trees and rocks, listening for the fiends' telltale pacing.
The blade slashes the chief's thick, pebbly skin easily, and the beast cries in pain.\n\n//No heat. It is too incapacitated by the bolt's effects to ignite. Perfect!//\n\nAnother cut, another stab. The sound of a few tentative stomps on the ground signals that the huge fire fiend is beginning to resist and shake off the magic paralysis.\n\n//Hurry, keep attacking! Cannot lose this chance!//\n\nMore strikes, more hits. //You will not take from me again!// The sword sinks repeatedly into the fiend's grotesque flesh. The beast growls, [[deep and low|Come on over]].
Beyond is a hall, its murkiness interrupted halfway by a wide shaft of pale light streaming in from overhead.\n\n"I hardly like the looks of this," the Lecturer murmurs as he regards first the hole above and then the chest-high pile of rubble partially obstructing the hallway. "It is too risky with just the two of us here. Best we should turn back now, and return with guards to drive off delvers, as well as workers to build supports."\n\n//There are multiple chimes, at different volumes. Augh, I can't quite tell them apart. I think--yes, there, near the rubble! I can just barely...//\n<blockquote>Holy Sovereign! Why would you speak to this lowly man in his dreams? Why would your Divine Consort speak to my dear wife? How can we possibly--? Oh, forgive me, Heavenly One. We shall not doubt. We shall spread the word, and prepare, and trust in your blessings. Thank you, Sovereign!</blockquote>//Oh my. Was our writer delusional, or was he actually touched by the gods at some point? I have to get additional evidence!//\n\n"Lore Mistress, you've been quiet. What does--" Right then something catches his eye. "Ah! The rubble is mostly blocking a door here." A twist of his wrist sends the orb over the pile of stone and dirt and into the room, where something on a wall casts shadows in the gentle light. "Another carving!" he exclaims. "I have to [[get in there|Intriguing room]]!"
The chicken and vegetable soup, while simple, is rich with flavor, and warms the heart. "Uncle, I fear that the lord and lady are discussing something that involves visitors."\n\n"Hmm, that is interesting. And alarming." He eats quietly. "What is that look for, child? Ah, the 'secret.'" He continues to examine his soup, waiting for the rest of the manor staff to take their meal and depart. \n\nThe last person to enter is the stable master's son, a rambunctious boy of nine who is the polar opposite of his quiet, straitlaced father. He messily fills his bowl and then promptly splashes about a third of his soup on the floor as he turns to scoot away.\n* [["Oh, dear. I'd better clean that up before someone slips on it."|Accommodating]]\n* [["Goodness, be careful! Haven't we asked you multiple times to help keep the kitchen tidy?"|Splish splash]]\n
As the impaled bandit slumps to the road and his blood begins to stain the dirt, it becomes clear that the huge two-handed sword that gutted the poisoner belongs to the leader of the caravan guards.\n\n"What the hell are you doing, junk man?" the tall, intimidating guard captain barks. "Never mind. I've got more cleanup to do. Get yourself out of sight!" He rushes off to engage another of the last remaining bandits.\n\n//No, I'm not leaving now!// A quick glance around the area proves fruitful: The healer is nearby, ducking for cover against one of the large wagons in front.\n\n"Madam healer! Over here, please!"\n\nFortunately, she hears the entreaty, and she manages to hurry over. She looks down at the young guard, who is shuddering violently. "Oh, gods--I have to stop this, now!"\n\nAs the healer tends to the young man, the surrounding noise fades. The contingent of caravan guards has [[triumphed|Realization]].
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The first words of the second scroll spill out, declaring the wish to enchant the presented weapon.\n\nThe blade, grasped in both hands with the tip held inside the flame of the center candle, feels bitterly cold to the touch, just under the threshold of pain.\n\nThe next words of the second scroll spring from the lips, beseeching the forces that reside past this world to lend their might.\n\nThe blade pulses, a low thrumming barely audible. An undercurrent of magic starts to fill it from pommel to point, swirling and twisting as it courses into the weapon.\n\nThe final words of the second scroll, shouted by the soul as much as by the throat, enjoin the gods to concentrate their strength on the humble sword offered.\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\nThe blade shimmers with an unearthly blue-green glow, its pulsing becoming an urgent heartbeat. But the expected burst of power seems not to come.\n<<else>>\nThe blade shimmers with an unearthly yellow-green glow, its pulsing becoming an urgent heartbeat. But the expected burst of power seems not to come.\n<<endif>>\nInstead, what begins is a sensation of tugging, crawling from the fingertips to the palms [[to the wrists...|Failure and loss]]\n
"You're one to talk. You shouldn't have that sword--you're lucky you haven't chopped off a finger or two!"\n<<if $minisoup eq true>>\n"I like it--it's shiny." Pouting, the boy scoots farther back into the nook. "You're okay. You clean up after me. But your uncle--he kept this sword even though he and my papa yelled at me for having it. That's not fair!"\n<<else>>\n"I like it--it's shiny." Pouting, the boy scoots farther back into the nook. "Go away. You scolded me for spilling soup. And your uncle--he kept this sword even though he and my papa yelled at me for having it. That's not fair!"\n<<endif>>\n"How did you know he had it in the kitchen?"\n\n"I didn't. I went in through the scullery because I wanted to sneak a taste of the desserts. And that's when I saw it."\n\n"Well, regardless, you should not keep that thing. It's dangerous."\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n"I'm not just gonna give it to you! If I can't have it, you shouldn't either!"\n* [[Offer to trade a fruit parfait for the sword.|Trade negotiation]]\n* [[Suggest returning the sword to its place in the armory.|Back you go]]\n<<else>>\n"I'm not just gonna give it to you! What do I get?"\n* [[Offer to trade a fruit parfait for the sword.|Trade negotiation]]\n* [[Suggest returning the sword to its place in the armory.|Back you go]]\n<<endif>>
"Of course. I can't give him a parfait that's room temperature."\n\nThe cook plunges into the task before him, selecting an assortment of berries and chopping bits of apple, and then preparing the sweet cream. As he is working, he seems to move more elegantly than a man of his age and somewhat slumped stature should.\n\nFinally the cup is filled, and Uncle grabs the sword. "Now for the chilling touch."\n\nFrom the door to the dining hall, however, rings a familiar voice. "Cook? Kitchen girl? I simply had to come here to tell you how proud I am, as all of the guests are raving about this delightful repast, and--" The scream that suddenly comes from the lady of Nivean Pass is loud enough to hush the chatter in the dining hall.\n\n"M-my lady, please, be calm--"\n\n"Put that sword down, now! This--this is an insurrection, in my house! Guards! Guards!" She points an accusatory finger. "That is it for you--both of you! I will see to it that you never work in a noble house, or [[anywhere|Ruins begins]], again!"
"Our young, messy friend," he responds. "The stable master and I caught his boy playing with it, and the lad confessed that he had snuck into the armory during the changing of the guard. I offered to take it back to the armory. But when my thoughts drifted to what I would make for the day's luncheon, I noticed the change in the blade. I decided to try it on supper tonight."\n\n"The armory--that means this is the lord's sword! And it's magic! Uncle, you don't know the first thing about magic--"\n\n"But don't you see, child? The lady loves the results!" He excitedly taps the grip of the blade. "This can help guarantee that she won't try to kick us out ever again!"\n\nFrom the dining hall comes a stern voice. "Cook, kitchen maid, your presence."\n\n//Goodness above! The last time the lord sounded like that, he was trying to keep the lady from terminating us for too little variety in the pastries.//\n\nWith a hint of concern crossing his face, Uncle rewraps the blade in the cloth and tucks it back behind the grill. "Come, child. Let us see our benefactors."\n\nTaciturn and still, the lord betrays none of his thoughts. The pouting lady of the manor, in contrast, drums her manicured fingertips on the tabletop.\n\n"You [[summoned us|Feast time]], my lord?" Uncle says, mustering his most dignified voice.
Before long, the rest of the caravan guards triumph, and the bodies of the marauders litter the road.\n\n"I can't--I can't believe it. I just killed a man. I have to--gods, I can't look at him. I have to go sit down. Over--augh--over there."\n\nReturning to the space between the overturned cart and crates feels like returning home. The darkness, at least, makes for a suitable shield against the sight of the dead bandit. But even then the memory of his lifeless corpse, the strange blade jutting out from his back, comes flashing in repeatedly.\n\n//I did not know how it would feel. The way it stabbed into him--it felt almost too easy. How? I could not do that, I--//\n\nThe young guard approaches and squats down, peering into the sheltered space. "I believe this [[belongs to you|It is yours]]," he says.
Her eyes widen. "I am impressed that you planned it all out, even with your unfamiliarity with this place."\n\n"Actually, no, I tend to do things on the fly. It usually works out for me."\n\n"Well, regardless, I guess an escape route would be easy to see for an outsider, someone who is still aware."\n\n//What...// "My sweet, you clearly belong to the faith. I would know why you were pursuing the relics, and why you brought a knife."\n\nShe studies the sharp instrument in her hand. "I am a high acolyte. But I have had a plan for some time, yet gained the full courage and awareness to try it only tonight. I wish to flee far away, and to seek sanctuary and repentance in a temple of the real gods, the Ascendant."\n\n//Again with the "aware" thing.// "The 'real gods'? You mean--?"\n\nShe bites her lip, debating how to answer. "The priestess is charismatic, and she shapes minds. I believe the 'relics'--and that sword--are merely tools that refine her inborn magical talent so that her influence is more insidious and thus more effective. I wanted to [[take at least one|Tools of the trade]] of them, to sell for money along the way, to survive my trek."
''Outside the ruins tucked away in the center of the Bondillar Highlands, an hour after sunrise...''\n\n//I should start taking notes while I'm waiting. All right: "The geography here conceals most of this sprawling complex. Half the structures are collapsed entirely, but the rest appear intact. Mostly hidden by overgrowth, but more than one passage seems accessible. The doors--if they are indeed doors--are quite tall, at least half again the height of a man." By the gods...he should be here by now.//\n\nJust then footsteps approach.\n\n//Oh, that must be--augh, no! Why? Of all the people--// "Er, Lecturer, I can't say I expected to see you out here."\n\nHe smiles as he comes into view. "Apologies, Lore Mistress, I didn't mean to startle you."\n\n//There's that annoyingly bright grin of his...// "I was not startled at all. I am merely awaiting the Academy Master, of course."\n\n"He awoke with an earache, unfortunately," the Lecturer says, pulling a letter from the sack slung over his right shoulder. "He bade me to take his place today." Irritatingly calm and pleasant as usual, the Lecturer [[presents the letter|Thrown together]].
Before long, the chaos subsides and ends. A careful peek through the shrubbery reveals that the contingent of caravan guards has prevailed, the bodies of the attackers littering the road. The bloody corpse of the poisoner lies slumped against a wagon's wheel.\n\n"Healer! Healer woman! Over here!" a gruff voice commands.\n\n"Augh, yes, sir," comes the harried reply.\n\n"He's in a lot of pain--you got something for that?"\n\n"Goodness! Yes, sir. I need to arrest the poison's progress immediately. A moment...there. It is no longer fatal, but it did quite a bit of damage. It's meant to prolong suffering."\n\nSatisfied that the matter is under control, the guard captain stomps off to see to the rest of the caravan's status.\n\nThe healer, having administered an antidote and having bandaged the young guard's wound, pours a cup of cold herbal tea and bids him to drink it, which he does with [[much wincing|Admission]] as the occasional spasm racks his weakened frame.
The air is still, and the awful odor permeates the area, made worse by the stench from the bleeding corpses of the scouts. <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nFrom a moderate distance away comes an abnormal sound. Three stomps slow, two stomps fast. One stomp slow, three stomps fast. Two stomps slow, two stomps fast.\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Aoha vul avvr lflz.<<becomes>>That one took eyes.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//That is the fiend I confronted before? I injured it even after it blinded me. Did it not heal after all this time? Nevertheless, I hear only the one--no second chief roams here.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Kv uva tvcl.<<becomes>>Do not move.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//No, mad blade. I exist to eliminate these beasts. And this is my chance for justice.//\n\nAlthough the world remains a cloudy, smoky blur, the massive form of the fire fiend is barely detectable a ways ahead as it continues its irregular lumbering. One paralytic bolt flies toward the target, then a second, then a third. The chief bellows several times--at least two of the [[bolts have hit|Good shot]].
"Be calm. I understand perfectly," he murmurs, lowering his sack. "Shall I carry those?"\n\n//Are you going to pat me on the head next? Augh...// "Fine." The few readable tablet pieces seem to bear some sort of numerical system--a tally, probably, of goods, perhaps.\n\nThe Lecturer then approaches one of the wider walls. "I see some evidence of a rough-hewn carving here, too, one that's simply gouged into the stone," he says as his fingers graze the surface. "But it was obliterated, as if smashed by a hammer."\n\nThe other walls are devoid of decoration, but a lone, empty torch sconce is mounted on one. //Ah, the chime is still ringing. Maybe it is coming from here.//\n\n"Lore Mistress, you said you heard a sound before, yes? I still don't--"\n\n"Yes, hush!" //From the sconce itself? No. Around it? Up high? Wait--down at the floor.// At the foot of the wall, below the sconce, is a crack in the stonework about a hand high and two fingers thick. "Send your orb down here for a moment, please."\n\nIn the light, something flat and folded is just visible in the crack. //I must have it! I can barely fit my fingers in...// A careful extraction produces a sheet of thick parchment, dry and cracked on the surface but surprisingly [[intact and sturdy|First words]] even upon unfolding.
//What? First you want to leave, and now you want to haul this rubble away? I will never understand...// "Lecturer, perhaps it is not worth the effort now. As you said, maybe it would be safer to return later and not disturb anything for the moment. If, while we're here, you would allow me to secure only one more piece of this apparent journal--I believe another is close by, just past this hall--then we can depart immediately."\n\n"Apologies, Lore Mistress, but I must see this carving now. I fear that more cave-ins may block it entirely, or even damage it, if we wait too long to return."\n\n//You already have a carving, from above! The Academy will praise you fulsomely for it, as always. You have your discovery from this visit, let me have mine! I need just a bit more so that it tells a complete story.// "How will you move all this rubble? Even magically, won't that take time? Let us obtain just one more small journal piece and go."\n\n"I am sure that I can clear this away promptly. My lifting spell, unrefined as it is, should be strong enough to handle the volume and weight."\n* [[Insist on searching for another page and leaving, for the sake of safety and time (as well as to keep him from having a second piece of artwork that will surely impress the Academy far more than an incomplete journal will).|My way or the highway]]\n* [[Acquiesce to his wish, for the sake of studying this carving while it is available (as well as to keep him from mentioning this disagreement to the Academy Master and possibly closing off future excursions for oneself).|You win again]]\n
"We have no time to debate this, Lecturer. Just give me a few moments. Then we shall depart before we are crushed not unlike that pathetic delver upstairs." <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nHe bows his head in disappointment, but with a slow beckoning gesture he calls the floating orb back out of the obstructed side room; then, with a slight and reluctant push, he sends it over the rubble and down to the far end of the hallway.\n\n//Don't be so downcast, pride of the Academy. Your sterling reputation is already enshrined. It is I who needs to be taken seriously.//\n\nAt the other end of the passage, occasional particles of dirt fall from above, setting the nerves on edge. Here the chime sounds its fullest just where the hallway ends and another dark, detritus-laden room waits ahead.\n\n//In the door frame? On this side? Ah, here! But this crack is too narrow for my fingers! How can I get this piece? Wait--I should try this...//\n\n"What is the matter?" the Lecturer calls in alarm as he hurriedly navigates the rubble and comes near. "Are you all right, Lore Mistress?"\n\n"Eh? I merely needed a thin and sturdy object to tease the paper out. The tip of the sword sufficed. It ended up being [[good for something|Handy instrument]], I suppose. Let us be off now."
"Lore Mistress," the Lecturer says, his voice quivering. "What have you concluded?"\n\n//No--if I tell you, the Academy will somehow give only you credit for it! Augh--did our mysterious writer hide more pieces? How can I find--// \n\nThen the realization sets in: The moment the parchment emerged from the crack, the strange chime stopped. //I must listen for another chime.// "Lecturer, I do not have enough evidence. Please disregard my outburst--I was speculating wildly for a moment."\n\n"Disregard? But--" He stops himself and gestures to the orb to move it closer to the ceiling, where its light reflects off the occasional cloud of dust in the air. "Very well, then. I worry about the state of the rooms down here, but both of these passages seem solid."\n\nTo the north, the next room stretches back a ways. Two torches that must have been left by pillaging delvers perch in the sconces, and the remnants of what seem like wooden barriers litter the floor. To the west is a smaller, darker room; in the light of the orb, a few broken pieces of pottery are visible just inside the door.\n\n//Blast it--the chime is back, but it sounds the same at each door. Which way do I go?//\n* [[Go north to the large room with the barriers.|Holding pens]]\n* [[Go west to the small room with pottery.|Handiwork]]\n
''In a dimly lit study crowded with well-worn books, in a secluded home embedded in a dark corner of the vast northern forest, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon...''\n\n"Begging a thousand pardons, master. The market and the roads were crowded today, owing to preparations for the summer festival. But I have returned with your purchase from the smithy."\n\n"Hmph. And the candles continue to diminish even as you linger there, slack-jawed."\n\nFor a second the apprentice remains rooted where he stands, bewildered. Snapping back to life and frowning in embarrassment, he brings the parcel to the cloth-draped table, depositing the bundle gently as if it would shatter at the slightest bump. He edges away, his gaze fixated on the parcel. "Shall I close the window shutters now, master?"\n\n"Yes. Do so while I tend to this."\n\n<<display "Sword revealed">>
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''"Lore: A Tale of a Sword and Those Who Wielded It"'' was published on March 21, 2014. The concept originated in June 2013.\n\nGrowing up in the late seventies and early eighties, ''T. Y. Vaught'' amassed an extensive collection of Choose Your Own Adventure books, as well as other similar series. "Lore" is her first Twine story. Under the screen name [[archerhawk|https://twitter.com/archerhawk]], she created the change-the-URL online riddles [[Riddling Park|http://www.riddlingpark.com/frontgate.html]] (2008) and [[Cross's Curiosities|http://curiosities.riddlingpark.com]] (2009).\n\n''Cover photo:'' [[Solingen Medieval Sword, Albion Europe ApS, Flickr|http://www.flickr.com/photos/albioneurope/6092995570/]]\n\n''Story format:'' [[SugarCube|http://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/]]\n\n''Fonts:'' Caudex (Nidud) and Cinzel Decorative (Natanael Gama), [[Google Fonts|http://www.google.com/fonts/]]\n\n''Resources:'' [[Twinery.org|http://twinery.org/]], [[L's blog at Glorious Trainwrecks|http://www.glorioustrainwrecks.com/blog/584]], [[Tweecode/Twine Google Group|https://groups.google.com/forum/?fromgroups#!forum/tweecode]]\n\n<h4><center>[[Return to the start|Start]]</center></h4><h4><center>[[Before You Begin|Before you begin]]</center></h4><h2><center>[[BEGIN THE STORY|Parcel ignored]]</center></h2>
A Tale of a Sword and Those Who Wielded It
#menu-rewind {\n display: none\n}\n\n#credits {\n color: black;\n}
A quick check of the ruins' periphery uncovers no hints of an unnatural event. The surrounding wilderness appears undisturbed.\n\n"All right. We must hurry back to the Academy," the Lecturer says, walking briskly down the gentle slope to the south as he dismisses his glowing orb with a wave.\n\n//Augh, I completely forgot I was wearing this sword. Now I'll have this thing slapping against my hip during the whole trek back. A lot of good it did me. Maybe I can pawn it off.// "Yes, everyone there will certainly appreciate what we both found."\n\n"Lore Mistress, you are too modest. This goes beyond our little endeavor. You and the Academy Master must seek an audience at Castle Elyspire."\n\n"Eh?" //The way he's looking at me--he's serious.//\n\n"Whatever that terrifying sound was--well, all I know is that King Nordyn must be informed immediately. And the journal pieces--that's never-before-heard history. I'm guessing even His Majesty does not know about his own ancestor."\n\n"You speak rightly. But--an audience with the king? I dare not imagine."\n\n"You have glimpsed the truth of the First Days," the Lecturer says, his smile genuine. "Now you must share that truth. For the sake of [[all the days to come|Begin the end]]."
The priest, who had been studying your face, smiles. "We were correct?"\n\n"Indeed. This will make a fine gift."\n\n"We are quite pleased." The temple's guardian turns back toward his study.\n\nBefore long the king concludes his prayer, and as he strides toward you he notices the item in your possession. "What have we here, honored mage?"\n\n"From the temple, Your Majesty," you reply as you hand the sword to him. "I have verified that it is blessed."\n\nHis expression grows distant as he inspects it, but promptly he smiles in realization. "Ah, so that is what the Holy Sovereign meant." After some thought, he positions the strange short sword on the off-hand side of his belt. "I have not dual-wielded in years. This shall be entertaining." He pauses then, and though you glance away so as not to stare, you notice how recent events have taken their toll on the ruler of the land, this confident, imposing, silver-haired man. First the queen passes, and then this... \n\nInstantly regaining his legendary composure, King Nordyn motions at the door, and you and the two generals [[follow him outside|Toward the sun]].
//Hah, "sir"? That's a first.// "I get the feeling you don't want a relic for worship."\n\n"You are correct. I need one so that I may sell it to survive--during my journey far away from this place, that is."\n\n"Ah, so that's it. What an odd coincidence that we should make our thieving attempts on the same night."\n\nShe frowns, but only a little. "I am not a thief. Not like you, at any rate." Her gaze drifts. "But perhaps it is not coincidence. Perhaps the Ascendant--oh! No, stop!" Abruptly she winces and presses her free hand to her forehead.\n\n//What--no, she's here! The sleeping potion was too weak!//\n\n"Why do you speak of the Ascendant in the house of Conventus?" The voice is familiar but cold. The priestess, resplendent in her elegant blue robes, enters the corridor and strides forward, stopping about three paces away from the high acolyte.\n\n//Getting dizzy...ill...//\n\n"The Ascendant...rule all," the high acolyte manages to say through gritted teeth. "Mere nights ago they blessed me, touched me, gave me the clarity and senses to fight you."\n\nThe priestess's expression hardens. "Conventus is beyond them. Conventus is life. Conventus demands [[submission|Submission]] to the fire!"
Its decoration consisting of a sole jewel in its pommel, the sword seems well forged. Slipping it out of its sheath reveals a pale blue-green glow surrounding the blade. Though its entire surface shows signs of much use, the glow is constant and unflagging.\n\nAfter nodding to the priest, you strengthen your grip on the hilt, concentrate, and utter the identification spell. Your power surges, opening a window in your mind. Suddenly you see this weapon's history, spanning a number of years. Some of the experiences of its many wielders are particularly clear, as if you were observing life through their eyes.\n\nBorn of a profoundly misunderstood ritual, this blade became aware and launched a quest to comprehend its purpose. It adapted its abilities to each owner and potential owner, attempting to serve their needs. It fed off these people--and sometimes influenced them in turn. And it resisted full identification as long as it was unsure of its own destiny.\n\nIt bears an enchantment capable of causing devastation. But its myriad wielders were human, after all, and more often than not they made decisions out of bravery, prudence, patience, affinity, or humility. And the sword [[learned from them|Excellent student]].
The injured fiend roars louder than a chief ever has, loud enough to make the ears ring. And as if in answer, an odd, disquieting sound--not unlike a clap of thunder, but deeper, and felt more than heard--abruptly splits the air. Soon, more stomping arises from behind, approaching in a regular rhythm. Within a few short seconds, the brawny form of another chief comes barreling in. Dodging and fending off the flaming beast's powerful punches and swipes takes every bit of effort. \n\nEndless swings, countless deflections. The beast is relentless. At last, a precise stab with the strange sword hits the fire fiend in its broad neck, and it reels for a moment. Roaring, it rears back to a towering height, and then slams down both forelegs. Its strength is too much, and blocking with the sword is only partly successful. Its fiery claws puncture the leather armor and dig into the flesh, and throbbing pain begins to spread. //N-no...you will not end me!//\n\nAnother stab with the sword, and the point plunges into one of the fiend's eyes. Another swing, and the edge slices its fanged jaw. Another, and another, and [[another|Almost anticlimactic]]...
"All right, you make a good point. We can easily return for other journal pieces later. This carving probably should be a priority." //I can't believe I'm saying this to him.// <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nHis expression brightens. "Thank you, Lore Mistress," he says, and in the same breath he utters the lifting spell, his hand performing the necessary gestures. After a few tense seconds of concentrating on the rubble, he allows himself another small grin as the many fractured chunks of stone and clods of dirt begin to levitate and shift several feet down the hall. Some anxious minutes later, the door is clear, and he rushes in, plops his sack on the floor, and grabs a charcoal stick and another sheet of clean parchment.\n\n//That tattered cloth on the ground beneath the carving: Was it perhaps hanging on the wall once? For concealment? Oh--ah! A chime! I did not realize! One of those that I heard in the hallway--is in this room!//\n\nAs he fills out the rubbing, the Lecturer speaks under his breath. "Gods...our divine creators...so you are here."\n\n"Eh? What do you mean?" //Where is that chime ringing? In this corner? No...//\n\nHe points with the charcoal stick. "The interwoven crown, the jeweled rod, the sheaf of arrows. They are plainly visible. This carving is [[of the Ascendant|Of gods and men]]."
Nearer the base of Greymire, the winds abate as a familiar sound--of clawed feet pacing back and forth, alternating speed in a perfect rhythm--grows in intensity ahead.\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast--the fire fiends' methodical timing while exploring, guarding, or stalking stands in contrast to the brutal nature of their attacks, which they unleash only when they are certain of their target.\n\n//Yes, at least a trio of scouts is close by, from the sound of it. Strange blade, cease your chatter; I need to maintain my concentration. And I need you to start being a sword.//\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast--one of the eternally restless fiends seems to be drifting away from the pack, and [[rapidly approaching|It comes]].
Three paces slow, three paces fast. //A bolt is loaded.//\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast. //Can feel it drawing near.//\n\nThree paces slow...and with a guttural roar, the agile scout ignites its flame aura and leaps in the air to close the remaining distance. //Fire!//\n\nThe next sounds--a solid thwack, a bestial cry, a thump hitting the earth--confirm that the paralytic bolt has hit home. Although the figure sprawled on the ground is just a shadowy blur, the fire fiend's strangled moans are enough of a clue, and lopping off its head takes only two hearty swings of the currently silent enchanted sword.\n\nA sputtering hiss signals the ebbing of the decapitated beast's fire aura, but soon the sounds of more clawed feet scuffling along the rocky terrain grow louder.\n\n[[Two more scouts]] are on their way.
"At least allow another Immune to come help," she countered. \n\n"They probably wouldn't be familiar with these fiends in particular."\n\n"They could learn."\n\n"There is too little time, as I said. And regardless, people have certain expectations of someone who is Immune, and who commits to the responsibility. You know that. This is a rare thing, and it is my obligation. I don't want to be [[known for turning away|Different now]]."
The apprentice perches on a stool at the far side of the study, seeking a shadowy corner as if to escape the aura of candlelight.\n\nUnrolled on the table, the ancient scrolls await, the thin and flowing lines of their strange script merely hinting at the greatness to come.\n\n"You appear agitated, lad. Have you a question?"\n\n"Er--yes, master. I do not recall whether you mentioned why this ritual is so crucial to perform." Suddenly realizing that such a query might seem impertinent, the apprentice hastens to add, "That is, the outcome sounds glorious, but do we not have more, um, mundane ways of enchanting a blade? As you always teach, magic does not normally require ritual; it is our blessing, inherent within us."\n*[["Our ancestors, the immediate children of the Ascendant, seem to have done things differently, and we must find out why. I'm sure they committed this ritual to the scrolls so that we would learn how to achieve as they had. We owe them no less."|Ritual to learn]]\n*[["I am certain that no other method would guarantee such a potent result. What little we know indicates that our ancestors, the immediate children of the Ascendant, knew how to harness extraordinary power. Nothing else will suffice."|Ritual to control]]\n
//I did not think I would have a chance at revenge today. But here it is. I can take them both if I immobilize the scout first.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Uv. Ihpa.<<becomes>>No. Bait.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//I tire of hearing you. Time runs short; I need to act.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Huvaoly shynl vul.<<becomes>>Another large one.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//I cannot hear another one--and a pack never has two chiefs.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Kv uva lunhnl.<<becomes>>Do not engage.<<endhoverreplace>>\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n//You are an odd creation, sword. What are you?//\n* [[Follow the original plan and attack the scout then the chief.|Shoot both]]\n* [[Remain patient and draw the scout away from the chief.|Shoot the scout]]\n<<else>>\n//You are hardly qualified to give me strategy advice, strange sword.//\n* [[Try to get both fiends quickly, shooting the scout and then the chief.|Shoot both]]\n* [[Take time to draw the scout away from the chief.|Shoot the scout]]\n<<endif>>
"Since when have you been all magicky and stuff?" he asks, his brow furrowing. <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\n"I'm not. It's just--this sword is weird. I can see it flash when someone nearby tells a lie."\n\n"Gods, you've had too much ale!"\n\n"Try me. Say some stuff, and I'll interrupt if you're lying. Say as much as you want. See if I don't get it down perfectly."\n\n"But why can't I see this sword flash? I've been carrying the damn thing, and using it, and it doesn't do anything special other than kill."\n\n"How am I supposed to know? Maybe you just happen to be surrounded by honest people all the time?"\n\nHe responds with a snort and a hearty chuckle. "That, pal, is [[highly unlikely|Tester]]."
"You think the good life's gonna just fall into your lap?" he chortles. "Oh, hey, speaking of one's lap, I tried that line you suggested. Tried it on //her,// I mean."\n\n<<display "That line">>
The first chief, having spent its energy on the charged attack, stands in place, growling and wheezing. //Sounds like it's still suffering a bit from the bolts' effect, too.//\n\nA few words seem appropriate. "You schemed all this time. And then you came back to bait me." The strange sword cuts easily through the chief's thick, pebbly skin, and the fire fiend bellows. "I didn't think you beasts had it in you." Another swing, another deep gash, another howl from the chief. "I also didn't think you fiends could control your...journey...so precisely." A plunging stab, and the fiend buckles, completely weakened. "That is grave news indeed. I suppose I should be grateful for the lessons." After several hacks and some sawing with the serrated dagger, the task is done.\n\n"Augh, so much pain." Quick rummaging through the pack produces a minor healing potion. The sweet red liquid goes down smoothly, and the general aching seems to subside somewhat. "Still going to feel this all the way [[back to town|Gamblers begin]]."
Although the branches and leaves scratch and prod, the shadows are comforting.\n\nA gap in the shrubbery offers a direct view of the continuing struggle. The young guard trades blows with the formerly bow-wielding bandit, who now brandishes a short sword in his right hand and a slender dagger in his left.\n\nThe guard almost seems like a different person as he wields his sturdy long sword: He is alert, quick, and confident. One swing is a touch overzealous, however, and he loses his balance for a split second. It is enough time for the brigand to dodge--and to drive his dagger into the guard's sword arm.\n\nWith an anguished cry, the guard drops his weapon and lurches backward, crumpling to the dirt and clutching at his arm.\n\n//What? That couldn't have been more than a flesh wound...//\n\n"Burning! It's burning!" the guard screams. It is clearly the work of a vicious [[poison|Poisoned dagger]].
"Worry not, thief," the priestess says as she idly draws tiny circles in the air with the sword. She regards the glowing weapon lovingly. "Your blood would only mar this blade's gorgeous finish."\n\n//The dizziness, the whispers...fading?//\n\nShe bends down once more and hisses, "I can guess who hired you. Tell them they will not subdue me." She stands up and heads back to the hall with the satchel and sword. "You may take my former high acolyte," she says coldly. "She now commences her banishment from The Deity's sight, and all the suffering that entails."\n\nWith the mental assault lifting, it is easy to journey through the door, around the plaza and its listless and vacant-eyed occupants, and behind the storehouse, to the uneven portion of the wall and its handholds and footholds--then, up and over.\n\nAfter a few minutes of walking briskly through the hilly wilderness in the still night air, the high acolyte finally speaks again. "Thank you for allowing me to come with you," she says with a shy glance. "I am sorry you could not succeed in your mission."\n\n//The moonlight becomes her.// "Ah, yes, my clients will not be happy about the objects. But they should be quite interested in you, and what you have to say. And I think you'd like [[their temple|Noble begins]] very much."
"This sword is one of the best pieces I've come across." The blade, retrieved from the nearest crate in the cart, shines subtly under the darkening sky. "I'm taking it to Elyston to find someone who can identify it. Nobody back home could figure it out."\n\nThe guard chuckles, eyeing it askance. "Doesn't look like much. They'll probably tell you it's enchanted to do just a touch of extra damage."\n\n"It's also unusually lightweight, yet it feels especially durable somehow." \n\n"Is that all?"\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n//He's not even paying attention.// "But do you see its glow? Very slight, and usually an unmistakable green, but when you twist it a bit, it's blue."\n\n"A trick of the light, old man. The real question is, can you use it?"\n* [["I learned the basics when I was a youth. Didn't bother to keep up with it. Didn't have to, thank the gods."|Rusty]]\n* [["I've had no training. I suppose I could improvise, if I wanted to."|Improvisation]]\n<<else>>\n//You arrogant...// "But do you see its glow? Very slight, and usually an unmistakable green, but when you twist it a bit, it's yellow."\n\n"A trick of the light, old man. The real question is, can you use it?"\n* [["By the gods, I'm not about to dignify that question with an answer."|Vagueness hides fear]]\n* [["Why should I have wasted time learning how to do that? Other people are better fit for such things."|Dependency breeds weakness]]\n<<endif>>
"Oh, yes, priestess. I heard so much about the community that I had to see it--and to see you--for myself."\n\n"Wonderful! Word spreads of us." Her eyes drift down, evaluating. "And I am quite glad that it brought you here."\n\n//Not subtle, are you? Can't say I mind.// "I must admit that I know nothing of Conventus. What is his role among the Ascendant?"\n\n"First," she purrs, "I will have some wine." She gestures toward the jug and cups on the table decorating the rear wall of the windowless room. "If you do not mind retrieving it."\n\n"Certainly, priestess, the pleasure is mine." //Just as expected. All right, keep my back turned, slip the powder in...// "Here you are."\n\n"Thank you." She takes the vessel and sips daintily. "Such a gentleman. Please, sit." Slowly swirling the wine, she intones, "Conventus is not Ascendant--nor is The Deity among the dormant Vanquished, mind you. The Deity is beyond such [[petty division|Squabbles]]."
//Come on, you're stalling again.// "I suggested something?"\n\n"You don't remember? Was it that long ago? Anyway, I did it real smooth, you know? Worked it into the conversation." He pounds the table with his hand again as his mouth curls into a sly grin. "She totally bought it. One of the best rides..."\n\n//Gods!// Another flash of pale green light--this time it seems to fill the room. //Does he not notice that? Does no one else here see it?// The gamblers hunched over their cards, dice, and mugs at the surrounding tables seem no more [[disturbed|What glow]] than usual.
"Of course, master." As if on cue, the apprentice's bangs droop over his right eye, and he shoves them back as he shuffles away to his chamber.<<set $curse = $curse + 1>>\n\n<<display "The pommel">>
Touching the jeweled pommel of the sword is enough to generate a soothing sensation that briefly ameliorates the nausea and hones the mind. "Whatever she's doing to you, push it away." <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\n"I am," the high acolyte replies, pressing her free hand to the wall and straightening slightly. "She does this to all of us, every day." She gasps again, flinching from another mental attack. "No one notices, because of the power of the relics and the blade."\n\n"You know nothing," the priestess says. "You are still so removed from the glory of Conventus, from the awareness that communion with The Deity brings."\n\n"Awareness?" the high acolyte hisses. "Only the Ascendant give that blessing."\n\nA shadow crosses the priestess's alluring face. "Liars, schemers, the lot of them!"\n\n//No, stop the whispers! Feeling ill...// Holding the grip of the sword produces a calming, stabilizing wave. "If...if Conventus is supreme, priestess, why does mention of the Ascendant disturb you? They should be [[no concern|Easy does it]]."
"What the hell do I care? I'm already living on the edge!" he exclaims joyously, slapping the tabletop. "This is really exciting, you know that?"\n\n//It's slipping away...// "It's not going to be exciting when you're in excruciating pain, or...or...shriveling like a grape, or something!"\n\nHe leans in. "Doesn't matter, pal," he confides. "If this thing really has other powers, I'm gonna find 'em and use 'em to handle bigger jobs, as long as I can. Bigger jobs, more stabbing, better pay." He pulls back and then rises from his seat. "I gotta hit the hay. We playing again next time I'm in town?" He pauses with a chuckle. "That is, if I survive?"\n\n"Um, yeah, wouldn't miss it."\n\nIn moments, he--and the sword--are gone. //Damn it--I could have gotten so much with that thing.// On the table, the stacks of coins from the night's card game still shine in the light of the tavern lamps, but they are [[small comfort|Temple begins]].
Before long, the other caravan guards triumph as well, and the bodies of the marauders litter the road.\n\n"I appreciate it, old man," the young guard says with a wan smile as he sits down on the ground, exhausted. With the hand on his uninjured side, he pops the cork off a minor healing potion and knocks back the cherry-red liquid.\n\n"That won't be remotely enough; your wound looks bad. Let me try to find the healer."\n\n"No, no, other people have it worse, surely. I can wait for her." His attempts to hide his grimacing fail.\n\n"Augh--gods help us." //I can't look at all that blood!//\n\nThe guard manages to laugh. "They surely have far more pressing matters to attend to."\n\n"Well, I wish I could have [[done more|Cart more]]."
"My lady," Uncle says with as much of a pleasantly surprised tone as he can manage.\n\nThe lady of the manor places her hands on her hips and glares. "You've embarrassed me. A meal for the governor--the leader of this entire region of the kingdom--and you dare to serve such ordinary steaks? The texture, the flavor, where was it?"\n\n"My lady, I, uh--I assure you, they were thoroughly marinated--"\n\n"Don't bother!" She cries, tossing her right hand up in exasperation. "This is your final error in this kitchen. Your service is terminated, both of you! And His Lordship isn't going to talk me out of it this time!"\n\n//Goodness above! Oh, Uncle, I am so sorry...//\n\nAt that, a booming voice comes from behind the lady. "What is this fuss?" The lady, startled and cowed, steps aside, and the governor of the northeastern quarter--a man taller, rounder, and even whiter-haired than the lord--steps into the kitchen. "Your husband was leading me back to the armory, but then I overheard you," he says. "I wish a word with [[your former cook|Career change]]."
Keeping the knife pointed straight forward, she edges a few steps away from the altar. "Oh, gods--oh, Ascendant. What shall I do? What can I do now?"\n\n//She's calling on the Ascendant, not Conventus...// "I do not intend to hurt you, I merely wish to leave the way I came in. And if that door at the end is now locked for the evening, perhaps you might assist me with that, to keep things quiet and easy?"\n\n"No, I can't just let you leave, not with all of the relics."\n\n"It pains me that you are not willing to help. Well, much as I would enjoy getting to know you more intimately, I'll just be heading down that corridor now. Farewell."\n\nFrozen by indecision and suspicion, she remains near the altar, her eyes quietly betraying her jumbled thoughts.\n\nThe corridor is dim and narrow, and the muggy heat of the evening seems magnified here. At the end stands the rear door, plain and solid. //And of course the door is locked. Out with the picks again, then. Hm...this one is much more complex. The congregation really isn't supposed to go anywhere near the priestess after hours, eh?//\n\n"Um, sir, if I unlock the door, will you [[give me one of the relics|Share alike]]? The orb, perhaps, since it is the smallest?" The high acolyte, still carrying the knife, approaches carefully.
In both directions along the road, the king's troops are milling around and conversing in respectfully low voices, but they snap to silent attention the moment he emerges from the temple. In the distance, the din of war continues, the countryside echoing with the shouts of men, the chants of the inhuman invaders, the clangs of metal, the shrieks of fiends, the cries of beasts, and the explosions of magic in conflict.\n\nThe king gazes across the sea of tired but determined faces. "My brave troops, we have suffered terrible loss. Far too many good souls have entered the embrace of the Ascendant. But have courage, for the tide is turning. You may already know of the messages I received from my son and my daughter: His soldiers have secured the southeast quarter, and her forces are holding firm at Elyspire. I have not received word lately from the governors, but at last report they and many local lords were proceeding to stabilize their regions. And just now--" He stops to collect his thoughts. "Just now I took comfort from the Holy Sovereign, most divine Ascendant. Our neighbors are succeeding in securing themselves, and soon they may be able to lend us aid."\n\nIn hearing this news, the soldiers take visible pleasure, and an optimistic buzz rises from the crowd. Satisfied, King Nordyn starts down the road, toward the sun, and you dutifully follow, with all of his troops filing in behind. "Much work lies ahead yet," he says to you, "but we will prevail. It is mankind's challenge--and mankind's destiny."\n\n<center>THE END</center>\n<center>(Ending 1 of 3)</center>
The room grew quiet, her breathing the only sound--gentle, then halting and ragged.\n\n"Don't cry, love."\n\n"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, her voice cracking. \n\n"Mm, nice try."\n\n"You are impossible." A sigh. "Just--why? Why must they come?"\n\n"That is all everyone asks. I suspect even the fiends themselves do not know."\n\nThough she inhaled deeply, it failed to ease her trembling. "Is it wrong for me to want to greet many more mornings beside you? Is it wrong for me to say that I don't wish to become a widow?"\n\n"No. But I must do this."\n\n"How can I permit you to go? Everything is different now."\n\n"Truly? I have not lost all of [[my senses|Back to the hunt]]."
"You have a deal. This'll save me one round of haggling." He withdraws the sword and lays it on the table.\n\n"Thanks." Pushed along the tabletop, the coins scrape and clink. "I hope you get a really good blade, one that will keep you alive. I mean that."\n\n"Hmph. Appreciate the concern. I gotta hit the hay." He scoops the pile back into his coin pouch and rises. "Good seeing ya," he calls over his shoulder as he starts toward the door. "We playing again next time I'm in town?"\n\n"Wouldn't miss it."\n\nAnd then he is gone. The other gamblers remain oblivious to the transaction that just took place. //Tomorrow night, these guys won't know what hit them. Strange blade, we're going to make a great team. Well...as long as I try not to blink.//\n\nThe sword sits cloaked in several colors, a mix of cold steel gray and unearthly green, dotted with orange reflections of the tavern lanterns. Somehow, in some odd way, it seems to be [[waiting|Temple begins]].
//Whispers, suggestions, crawling into my head. Foreign, familiar... Can't... Sick...//\n\nFor a moment the priestess shifts her attention away from the high acolyte. "I am heartbroken, handsome thief. I was so hoping to welcome you into the community and explore you more thoroughly."\n\n"The community...what...what are you doing to them?"\n\n"I preach the joy of the many as one, of desire for the energy of life. The message is more refined and more easily spread with the help of the holy pieces." Her enchanting eyes narrow. "Your possession of them is an affront to Conventus."\n\n"She invades, and she molds and shapes," the high acolyte wheezes as she struggles to stay on her feet.\n\nThe priestess glares at her disobedient follower. "You will be silent, blasphemer!"\n\n//Head hurts...can't see straight.// A glance at the high acolyte, however, makes it clear that she is getting the brunt of the priestess's mental assault. With a strangled wail, the young woman suddenly doubles over.\n\n//The sword...I felt something when I first grabbed it.//\n* [[Touch the sword and engage the priestess in an attempt to distract her and break her attack.|Distraction]]\n* [[Touch the sword and encourage the high acolyte in an attempt to help her recover and resist.|Pick me up]]\n
"It is certainly better than nothing," he replies as he heads to the opposite side of the room. Peeking into each of the two doors standing there, he once again begins to sing.\n<blockquote><blockquote>Golden age\nFirst Days\nTouched by the holy\nLearned the ways\nMagic joined with faith\nAll men gave glory</blockquote></blockquote>//Please, I am not one of your slavishly devoted pupils. Your voice is not that impressive.// "But it is still insufficient--the few unearthed writings, the oral tradition, it isn't enough."\n\n"Perhaps we should be glad," he chuckles. "That means you and I remain employed." He flips his hand slightly, and his glowing orb floats toward the doors. "I leave the choice to you, Lore Mistress: Which way next?"\n\nBoth rooms are darker than this one. In the glow of the orb, the room on the left seems cozy somehow; perhaps it is the surprising sight of a mostly intact wooden table that leaves such an impression. The chamber on the right bends immediately, such that most of it is not visible from this vantage point.\n* [[Enter the room with the table, on the left.|Not so homey]]\n* [[Enter the L-shaped room on the right.|Grab the brass ring]]\n
The meal concluded, the apprentice clears the dishes. \n\nBack in the study, the blade waits on the ritual table.\n\n"Master," the apprentice calls out from the kitchen, "I must admit that the parcel--the blade--felt lighter than I had anticipated. Is it...is it all right?"\n\n"Its weight is as directed in the scrolls." Further inspection reveals that other parts of the blade meet the specifications. "Yes, a sturdy crossguard, appropriately tapered. A neatly covered grip."\n\nThe apprentice steps hesitantly into the study, his eyes darting to the blade. "I am done with the washing, master. Do you require anything more of me before meditation?"\n* [["No, thank you. You should get your rest. We approach a critical milestone."|Rest boy]]\n* [["No, be off. Concentrate this time, with none of your twitching. And push your hair out of your eyes; it distracts you."|Concentrate]]\n
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//Got him.// "Great, so you want to sell it to me?"\n\n"Are you kidding? We need to use this thing."\n\n"Um...'we'? What do you mean?"\n\n"It's my sword, but only you can see it flash." His roughly hewn features seem to harden even more. "So we gotta become a package deal. We could use this in so many ways--you know, threaten somebody, catch 'em in a lie, get 'em to confess where they're hiding their goods, or make 'em snitch on somebody else."\n\n"What?! I'm no...sellsword!" //Gods, I almost said something else!//\n<<if $miniexcite eq true>>\n"No, you just stand around watching these warehouses all day, pining for excitement and riches. But at least you can swing your own weapon a bit and survive a while. You're coming with me tomorrow, 'cause we're friends, right?" He pats the sword's jeweled pommel and smirks. "This thing is a gold mine. [[We can't lose|Temple begins]]."\n<<else>>\n"No, you just stand around watching these warehouses all day, waiting for the good life to fall into your lap. But at least you can swing your own weapon a bit and survive a while. You're coming with me tomorrow, 'cause we're friends, right?" He pats the sword's jeweled pommel and smirks. "This thing is a gold mine. [[We can't lose|Temple begins]]."\n<<endif>>
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Back in the kitchen, the cook is doing his best with another slice of venison steak, watching over it as it sizzles on the grill. "I don't know, child, I just don't know--"\n\n"It will be fine, Uncle." //I hope I sounded optimistic enough...// At least garnishing another plate takes little effort.\n\nAfter a while the steak is ready, smelling wonderful and looking delicious. "All right, I guess we're done," Uncle says, wiping his brow. He moves toward the door to the dining hall and calls out. "Steward?"\n\nThe person who appears in the doorway, however, is not the steward. It is the lord of Nivean Pass.\n\n//Goodness above! I have a bad feeling...//\n\nIn his hand, the lord bears the strange short sword. And though his face betrays no emotion, his voice has a hard edge. "I will ask you this only once, cook," he says, holding the weapon up so that its jeweled pommel--smeared in something vaguely familiar--is visible. "Why does this blade have [[dessert topping|Ruins begins]] on it?"
//I can't believe you're asking me.// "Oh, Uncle, I would not presume to make such a decision. But as we report to Her Ladyship, perhaps--" <<set $curse = $curse + 2>>\n\nBefore Uncle can respond, the lady of the house claps her hands several times, bouncing a bit in her seat. "Wonderful! Oh, so many invitations to write--I must take up the quill immediately! And won't it be marvelous to see our beautiful daughter again, dearest? It's been far too long since her wedding."\n\n"Of course I'll be happy to see her, darling." Although the lord's reply seems genuine, he appears not so pleased about all the other potential guests. Nevertheless, his tone remains even. "Cook, maid, I trust that you will do admirably. You are dismissed."\n\nBack at the kitchen table, the chicken soup is lukewarm, but it hasn't lost any of its comforting flavor. "Goodness above, I'm getting nervous already. At least the young mistress will be coming--I've missed her so!"\n\n"You see?" Uncle says, nodding in satisfaction. "Nothing to worry about. And the meal is certain to [[please everyone|No time to panic]], anyway, since I'll be using my 'secret.'"
"No, master, of course not." The apprentice stares into his stew bowl.<<set $curse = $curse + 1>>\n\n"And after it is over, you must be certain to stay away from the table for another quarter-hour, at least. I cannot chance corruption of the blade. Who knows what may happen if an untried hand gets even within the vicinity?"\n\n<<display "Cleanup prepare">>
<<timedreplace 4s>>The tugging, the pulling, the dragging...it spreads rapidly, uncontrollably, inevitably. <<gains>>And now vision flickers and disintegrates, the last image that of the blade, looming larger.<<endtimedreplace>>\n\n<<timedinsert 10s>>A voice shrieks, fading by the second. "Master! Ascendant, help us! Master!"<<endtimedinsert>>\n\n<<timedinsert 14s>>Then, [[silence|Caravan begins]].<<endtimedinsert>>
"Ain't like you're much better off. Unless you've got some fantastic 'standing around staring at sacks of wheat' stories."\n\n//I'd rather forget work as much as possible.// "I've drawn. You?"\n\n"Don't need to," he snickers, admiring his cards and smacking the edge of the table with his palm. "I got you this time."\n\nNearby, something glows a faint green, for a second or two. //What the hell was that?// "Oh, you think so? All right, another 20." The coins clink as they hit the table.\n\n"Yeah...sure, 20." Clink. "I do kinda wish I had actual war stories. Getting kinda bored."\n\n"Should never wish for that." The second draw is quite favorable--very nice indeed. \n\n"Don't tell me you've never thought the same."\n* [["Being bored is fine, as long as I'm living the good life too."|Ah the good life]]\n* [["Excitement is great, as long as it involves getting rich rather than fighting for my life."|What is it worth]]\n
"Of course, master. That makes perfect sense. This is truly your moment."<<set $curse = $curse + 1>>\n\n<<display "Ritual proceeds">>
''Some time later...''\n\n//Damn it.// Dressing takes little time. //The plan was to stall her, not--// She lies draped over the pillows, slumbering, her breathing soft. //Whatever she did to me, I can't have that happen ever again. Can't count on that sleeping potion to last, either. Have to go.//\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\nUp close, the blade is clearly not a ceremonial prop, but a real enchanted weapon, glowing a pale blue-green. //"Infiltrate the temple and obtain the sword and the relics, any way you can," they said. Won't tell 'em how I did it, that's for sure.// Grasping the sword produces an inexplicable, overwhelming sense of discipline and calm. //Very strange.// A sword belt is tucked in a compartment in the back of the podium. //Not a great fit, but it'll do.//\n<<else>>\nUp close, the blade is clearly not a ceremonial prop, but a real enchanted weapon, glowing a pale yellow-green. //"Infiltrate the temple and obtain the sword and the relics, any way you can," they said. Won't tell 'em how I did it, that's for sure.// Grasping the sword produces an inexplicable, overwhelming sense of discipline and calm. //Very strange.// A sword belt is tucked in a compartment in the back of the podium. //Not a great fit, but it'll do.//\n<<endif>>\nThe stark temple hall, devoid of furniture, windowless, and dark aside from a couple of wall torches at the head of the room, is deserted, as expected. In one corner, on a large base, stands a statue of "The Herald of Conventus," a regal figure who appears feminine from one angle and masculine from another. //Good. No one found my satchel back here. Time to snag the other stuff.//\n\nThe [[altar|Swipe]] waits in the torchlight.
Wrapped in robes of a subtle peach hue, a willowy young woman stands behind the altar, her shaking hand grasping a knife. "Who are you? No one may be here at night." <<set $curse = $curse + 2>>\n\n//Ooh...quite lovely. Reminds me of the lass at Kriegar Inn last month. Let's see if she's just as pliable.// "Beautiful miss, I apologize for startling you. I am merely a potential initiate, and I just finished a...meeting with the priestess. I take it you are of rank here?"\n\n"Um, yes, I am a high acolyte, but--"\n\n"Very good. If you could kindly escort me out through the back to the commune, I would enjoy hearing more from you about the faith." \n\nImmediately her bright, alert eyes jump to the sword. She recognizes it, and claps her free hand over her mouth. At last she says, "That sword almost never leaves the priestess's side. Who are you truly? Is the priestess--?"\n\n//She's sharper than the girl at Kriegar. I like that.// "No, that is not my line of work--and it is not how I wish to engage with the fairer sex. But it really would be in your best interest to remain silent about our meeting here."\n\n"Why do you think I'll agree to be silent?" she says defiantly, though her fear is plain.\n\n"Because, lass, if no one may be here in the hall at night, that means you are here against the rules too--with [[a weapon of your own|Youll put your eye out]], no less."
The piping-hot stew, laden with carefully mixed spices measured to precision, satisfies from the first bite.\n\n"Master, will the ritual take long?"\n\n"It should not. From all that I have garnered from the portion of the scrolls I translated, it should require only an hour--indeed, it must be exactly an hour."\n\n"If--if I may say so, master, I should like to watch from afar."\n* [["And you shall. I do not need you to disturb me, with all your inane questions and fidgeting."|Distract]]\n* [["And you shall. It is safer for you. We are treading new ground this night."|Safety first]]\n
Around the bend, this chamber proves to be expansive. On the left is an open door to the outside--or, rather, an arch that is open because the wide door or gate that formerly secured it now consists of only a couple of iron hinges attached tenuously to the frame.\n\n//It seems to lead to a courtyard. The area is enclosed, inaccessible to the wilderness.// "Another airy space, is it not? Many windows in here, again."\n\nThe Lecturer bends at the waist to examine the wall on the right. "Curious--every few paces there is a deep hole about two fingers wide, surrounded by missing masonry, as if some embedded objects were yanked out at intervals."\n\n"Yes, I see now. It is the same on this side."\n\nHe squats and sifts through the mixed debris on the floor, stopping when he grasps a small, gleaming object. "I'm surprised the delvers missed this," he remarks. It is a fairly thick, oblong ring, slightly misshapen and split open, with a shiny yellow metal exterior. "Gold plating, perhaps. The dark base metal is easy to see at the open ends here."\n\n"It is obviously not jewelry." //And at least it is not another meticulously carved piece that he can bring back to impress the Master.//\n\n"Probably part of a fixture of some kind," he says, fingering it thoughtfully for a second before dropping it into his bag. "How about we [[plow ahead|Hallway of fun]], and take care of that room with the table on the way back?"
//What is this? The blade is aware? They said it was only damage-enchanted.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Dpss rllw dhajo mvy fvb.<<becomes>>Will keep watch for you.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//Are you kin to the fiends? A creature from their world, wherever that is?//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Zohtl. Mhpsbyl. Dpss olsw fvb hcvpk.<<becomes>>Shame. Failure. Will help you avoid.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//Stop this at once!//\n\nThe blade falls silent, and the wailing of the winds resumes for a few seconds. Then...\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Aolf dhpa. Zvbao.<<becomes>>They wait. South.<<endhoverreplace>>\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\nCarried on the autumn gusts, the distinctive scent of the fire fiends remains subdued but seems to be the strongest to the east.\n* [[Follow the scent trail and go east.|Eastern approach]]\n* [[Take the sword's advice and go south.|Southern approach]]\n<<else>>\nCarried on the autumn gusts, the distinctive scent of the fire fiends remains subdued but seems to be the strongest to the east.\n* [[Defy the voice of the sword and go east.|Eastern approach]]\n* [[Go south in hopes that the sword will be satisfied and stop talking.|Southern approach]]\n<<endif>>
Continued contact with the sword hilt chases the whispers and the dizziness to the edges of consciousness. "How do you figure that?"\n\n"Your soothing voice, your lingering glance, your insistent touch," she says, placing a hand on her side and absently drawing her palm down her hip. "You are obviously quite practiced at encouraging desire."\n\n"That's...different. I--"\n\n"But," she says, interrupting the interruption, "you suffer from limited vision. There are more desires in life than those of the flesh."\n\nThe high acolyte speaks again, despite her wincing. "Achieve unity. Impose equality. Enforce harmony."\n\n//I...don't like the sound of that.// Another surge of energy from the sword clears the disorientation and unease once more. "Priestess, this has to come to an end."\n\nThe priestess, her eyes flitting to the side, nods. "Indeed it does."\n\nWith an anguished cry, the high acolyte teeters and [[collapses|Caught you]].
"And I suppose being a guard for a merchant caravan is your destiny? If you haven't noticed, you and I are traveling the same road."\n\n"Point taken, old man," the guard says brightly.\n\n"I provide a service. It's hard work."\n\n<<display "Little worth">>
//It's readable, and the handwriting is dark and bold. Not at all like the nearly impenetrable script we've found on pieces at other ruins. But the age of this parchment--it has to be First Days material.//\n\n"Lore Mistress, please, the suspense! What does it say?"\n<blockquote>They keep us in silence, beating us if we speak too loud or in numbers. So while they were performing their horrid rituals of supplication, I stole some of their precious scrolls, to retain my voice, so that I may teach my future children the truth, to shield them from the lies our "betters" tell--or if, gods forbid, I should be put to death for my insolence. They think we are dumb, that we cannot read. But we teach ourselves. And now I write in our letters, not theirs, for concealment. And I shall hide these for safekeeping. I pray to our creators that the enchantment of these scrolls will preserve them.</blockquote>"By the gods," the Lecturer whispers. "What is this talk of beating? Of domination? No foreign nation has ever occupied our kingdom. We have never had class wars here--"\n\n"Hush, I must think!" //There's nothing about such horrors in all of the oral tradition we know. The First Days, around the world, were glorious. Constant worship and direct connection with the Ascendant. A rich tapestry of magic. The taming of wondrous creatures. The tales always say so. Our meager translations of the few other tablets, scrolls, and parchments we've found seem to verify...// "No, that's [[impossible|Another one]]!"
"Doesn't matter now, old man. We can't change the past. Rejoice: We're both alive." The guard slides the strange blade--still coated with the bandit's blood--along the ground, and winces some more. "You'd better gather up your goods. The caravan will have to get moving again soon if we're to make Elyston by nightfall."\n\n"Ah, gods--all this violence, just to steal things. Foodstuffs, rugs, pottery. Junk." //Is...is the blade glowing more than it used to? I swear that it was not so bright before.//\n\n"On the contrary, good sir," the guard says, glancing at the strange blade once more. "That one there is [[a real find|Hunter begins]]."
One of the soldiers at the cave entrance calls out. "A messenger approaches!"\n\nThe messenger, gasping for breath, fights his fatigue and bows before Prince Aldis. "Your Highness, I come from Elyspire. It stands firm."\n\n"Excellent." Aware that all eyes are on him, the prince paraphrases the presented letter aloud. "My sister summons us to regroup alongside her forces at Elyspire. My father--" He pauses. "My father, your King Nordyn, still lies injured, but stable, in Leneris. The healers remain optimistic. And that region is secured." He tucks the letter into his belt pouch. "We march in moments." He turns to you, his hand extended. "And as I do not have any other sturdy weapons to choose from around here, I will take that sword."\n\n"Begging your pardon," you plead, "but I believe this sword is cursed."\n\nHe does not waver. "So it is damage-enhanced, correct? And you can remove curses."\n\n"Yes on both counts. But the curse must manifest before I can determine how to counteract it. The risk to you is severe."\n\nHis expression softening, the prince takes the strange sword in one hand and touches your shoulder with the other. "Then stay close to me, my friend. And stay alive."\n\n<center>THE END</center>\n<center>(Ending 2 of 3)</center>
Its decoration consisting of a sole jewel in its pommel, the short sword is well forged. Though it is stained and battered by war, its glow is constant and unflagging.\n\nYou grasp the blade's hilt and utter the identification spell, and your power surges, opening a window in your mind. Suddenly you see this weapon's history, spanning a number of years. Some of the experiences of its many wielders are particularly clear, as if you were observing life through their eyes.\n\nBorn of a profoundly misunderstood ritual, this blade became aware and launched a quest to comprehend its purpose. It adapted its abilities to each owner and potential owner, attempting to serve their needs. It fed off these people--and sometimes influenced them in turn. And it resisted full identification as long as it was unsure of its own destiny.\n\nIt bears an enchantment capable of causing devastation. But its myriad wielders were human, after all, and more often than not they made decisions out of cowardice, ignorance, haste, selfishness, or arrogance. And the sword [[learned from them|Poor student]].
The burly bandit nears the unarmed guard and hefts his sword, snickering. He is so preoccupied that he suspects nothing.<<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\n//Gods, help me!// A rush of adrenaline, a surge of energy, a thrust forward--and with unnatural power, the strange blade sinks deep into the criminal's back, right between his shoulder blades.\n\nFor a few tense seconds, the brigand stands there, stock still. But with a strangled cry, he convulses--and then [[collapses to the dirt|Collapsed bandit]].
//Whispers wriggling into my mind...suggestions. Ill and dizzy. How near is the door?// A quick glance back reveals the high acolyte, her balance wavering and her free hand pressed to her forehead. The closed rear door remains a good ten paces or so behind her, and hurrying toward it seems unlikely as long as the nausea and disorientation last. One wobbly step at a time seems to be the only option. <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\n"I was truly hoping to initiate you into the faith," the priestess says, stopping her stride about three paces away. "You are a man who is worth exploring thoroughly."\n\n//Head is swimming. Her raw power is strong. So forceful...so tantalizing...// "You, um, have about a hundred people here. I can't understand what you're doing to them."\n\nThe priestess smiles condescendingly. "We do nothing here that companions do not wish to do. Conventus is unity. To achieve unity, we fulfill desires, because to desire is to thrive." She tilts her head, and her long hair caresses her shoulders. "You and I served Conventus quite well, in fact."\n\n//Wanted her...took her...need more...//\n\n"She invades--as she is doing to us now," the high acolyte manages to say, her voice strained. "You must fight. Or soon you will start to have desires you never had before, new wishes, new cravings that you [[must satisfy|Gotta have it]]."
"Yes, Her Ladyship and I have reached an impasse."\n\n"You've finally figured out what you're doing, cook," the lady interrupts. "And I wish to share the delight of your newfound skill in a luncheon for all the ladies of the northeastern quarter. We have not hosted one ever since we ousted our previous cook."\n\n//All those ladies? They're probably all as...particular as she. But we need to earn Her Ladyship's favor--I should like us to retain our employment for at least a while longer.//\n\nThe lord disregards his wife's interjection and continues. "I need to invite the regional governor here for a meeting soon. He suffered a minor hunting injury, and he could not make the lengthy journey to Elyspire. The king charged me with updating the governor."\n\n//Oh, the governor again. He always insists on a tour of the manor. Ravenous appetite, too. But satisfying him is fairly simple. And this meeting is important to His Lordship.//\n\n"And so we ask you, cook," the lord declares. "Which event do you feel more comfortable tackling first?"\n\n"Ah...well, my lord, I will be happy to accommodate either set of needs. How about you, my niece? As my assistant, do you have a preference?"\n* [[Speak in favor of the ladies' luncheon.|Ladies first]]\n* [[Speak in favor of the governor's visit.|Pulling rank]]\n
//No place to hide!// The only option in the empty hall is to duck behind a nearby supporting column.\n\nThe footsteps remain slow and timid. At last the person arrives and approaches the altar. //Don't take all night to pray, please.//\n\nContrary to expectations, however, the person continues around to the back of the altar. The next sound is that of a key unlocking the panel door--followed by a startled, muffled gasp.\n\n//Damn it! Don't budge, don't breathe...//\n\n"Who's there?" It's a young woman, her voice a quivering whisper. "I can sense you."\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n//"Sense"? Great, somebody else with magic. Have to make as little trouble as possible.//\n* [[Be charming and attentive, to gain her trust.|Talk it over]]\n* [[Be assertive, to keep her quiet.|This is business]]\n<<else>>\n//"Sense"? Great, somebody else with weird powers. Gotta make this quick.//\n* [[Be charming and attentive, to gain her trust.|Talk it over]]\n* [[Be assertive, to keep her quiet.|This is business]]\n<<endif>>
//No, no, no--it can't be--// "I do not believe this."\n\n"Hmph. Damned city vermin. If we hadn't been outnumbered... Gods!" His anger seems to subside, however, and soon he shrugs and starts counting. "One, two--"\n\n"But, that sword--er, your sword--is gone! Augh--and my money!"\n\n"Quit your whining and count with me, you jackass."\n\n"Aren't you upset?"\n\n"Sure. I'll take it out on the next guy I'm hired to rough up or kill, maybe as soon as tomorrow. Dunno what you can do--punch a bag of wheat, maybe? Now count."\n\nThe thought of reporting to work in the morning--for another mind-dulling, soul-crushing shift, watching over the storage and transport of foodstuffs--fills the heart with dread. "Augh, I [[can't stand losing|Temple begins]]."
//What an exasperating fellow. Of all the guards on the caravan, I had to get this one.// "What difference does it make? I plan to sell it to someone who will then put it in the hands of another who will use it. Acquiring and selling found items, that is what I do."\n\n"And is that all?"\n\n"Augh, this is intolerable!"\n\nThe guard pauses, and the cart catches up as the road widens once more and begins a slight decline. Here in this corner of the valley, the trees stretch especially high, and the brush to either side of the road flourishes.\n\n"My apologies, old man." His smile ingratiates one second and irritates the next. "I am only thinking aloud about the value of broadening one's horizons." He resumes walking, this time at a purposeful, brisk pace, so as to leave the scavenger cart in peace.\n\nThe peace [[lasts for mere minutes|Ambush]].
Fortunately, upon closer inspection it becomes evident that the hole does not cut off travel down the remainder of the hallway. Although several people could easily drop through a hole of its size, the gap occupies only about half of the passage's width. Thrusting the staff against the surrounding stone and the intact floor verifies that it remains solid enough to walk on.\n\nHe commands the glowing orb to dip partway into the hole. "Quite a large pile of rubble, but not too far down."\n\n//What is that sound? It's faint, but familiar--oh! Is it the same kind of chime as I heard before, in the prayer hall? What does this mean?//\n\n"Lore Mistress, even though the floor seems safe, I propose we stop our investigation for the time being. We should report to the Master on what we have for now, and return later with workers to build supports, as well as guards to drive off delvers."\n<<if $minipottery eq true>>\n//"What we have"? You have a carving of the gods and a beautifully decorated pottery shard. I have a broken tablet that probably isn't even readable! I need something more, else the Master will deem my participation worthless.//\n<<else>>\n//"What we have"? You have a carving of the gods and an intriguing gold-plated ring. I have a broken tablet that probably isn't even readable! I need something more, else the Master will deem my participation worthless.//\n<<endif>>\n"Allow me just a look at the end of this hallway, Lecturer. I wish to know [[how much farther|Is there more]] this complex extends back."
By T. Y. Vaught
"You haven't changed your mind," she whispered, her tone more that of a statement than a question.\n\n"You know I can't."\n\nA muffled, exasperated sigh. "You are so...pigheaded. Such a stubborn man."\n\n"Hah--you knew what you were getting into."\n\nThe bed shook a little as she shifted her weight and turned, nestling even closer. Her smooth skin smelled lightly of lavender soap. "I have dreaded this day, not knowing when the beasts would return, when you would be called upon once more."\n\n"They do not ever have a plan. They arrive, and kill, and terrorize, until I stop them."\n\n"I refuse to accept that it must be you yet again," she protested. "You deserve to start living a normal life, to open your workshop every morning, and to come home to me every evening, without a care in the world."\n\n"And I will do just that--after I deal with them."\n\n"No," she murmured. "They [[damaged you|Flashback 2]]."
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The groans of the winds seem to diminish--and a voice takes their place. \n\n<<hoverreplace>>Hjapun avv zsvd.<<becomes>>Acting too slow.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//Augh! Burrowing in my head! Get out!//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Zll vusf opuaz vm tvapvu.<<becomes>>See only hints of motion.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//Stop!//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Zll vusf ayhjlz vm spnoa.<<becomes>>See only traces of light.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//What--how do you know? Who are you?//\n\nA subtle movement--vibrating?--reveals the [[answer|What sorcery]]: the enchanted short sword, snug in its scabbard, strapped on at the waist.
"No, not again! Not another one!" you cry as you slump in despair and exhaustion.\n\nThe prince kneels at the soldier's side. "Brave one, thank you for your sacrifice. I commend your soul to the heavens, and send you to the embrace of the Ascendant. Go with the gratitude of your king, and of all mankind." Though he has said those same words to so many of the lost already, he speaks them with passion every time.\n\n"What use is this?" you moan. "I can't save them, even with all I have."\n\nDespite his young age, the prince has both the willpower of his father and the forbearance of his late mother. "I am hardly the one to remind you about the limits of magic, honored mage. Dwell not on this. Think of the many more lives you have rescued. My father named you to the court for good reason." After he confirms that other casters and healers are tending to the rest of the wounded and dying, he looks down at the newly deceased's sword, which is sitting on the cave floor. "My blade is broken, and this one seems a strong enough replacement. But it is clearly enchanted."\n\nYou stare at the sword and notice its pale yellow-green glow, and immediately you understand that you must [[identify it|Who or what are you]] to detect the nature of its enchantment.
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//Hah--I haven't lost a thing.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Jhuuva shza.<<becomes>>Cannot last.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//That is hardly your business. And I still do not know what you are.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Huvaoly yvhtz.<<becomes>>Another roams.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//Ah, there.// The faint but unmistakable pacing is coming from ahead and somewhat to the left. //Must approach it carefully.// Three paces slow, three paces fast. The scout is moving aimlessly; it must not have seen its pack mates wandering off, or heard their howling. //Getting closer. A bolt...is loaded.//\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast. Three paces slow, three paces fast. Stomp. Two stomps fast. Two stomps slow, three stomps fast. Four stomps slow, two stomps fast. //And there is a chief. But its movements are irregular.//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Zavw. Aoha vul avvr lflz.<<becomes>>Stop. That one took eyes.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//That is the fiend I fought before? I injured it even after it blinded me. Did it not heal all this time?// Not far away are [[two blurry shadows|Which to shoot]], one slender, the other massive.
"She preaches much more than that to us," the high acolyte says, her strained voice reflecting her own battle against the priestess's power. "She extols the pursuit of all wants, whatever their nature, whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice."\n\n"High acolyte, you displease Conventus," the priestess replies, her expression hardening. "Why do you now blaspheme?"\n\n"The Ascendant touched me in my dreams mere days ago. They gave me the power to sense others, and the awareness to resist your falsehoods."\n\nA scowl mars the priestess's alluring face. "The deceitful Ascendant lead you astray!"\n\n//Augh...reeling...she is so powerful...so beautiful...so passionate...// Thanks to continued contact with the sword's hilt, another calming surge banishes the mental whispers. //No--we can't stay!// \n\nSomehow the high acolyte reads that last thought, and she turns and hurries for the rear door, teetering from dizziness but reaching the exit regardless. Tucking her knife into her belt, she fishes for the door key in her pouch, finally producing it and turning the lock. "Come on," she calls, opening the door.\n\n"No you don't, thief," the priestess shrieks, lunging and [[grabbing the satchel|Hold it]]. Slung across the body as it is, the bag suddenly makes for a convenient restraint.
Beyond is a dim hallway, dotted only occasionally by thin open slits that permit weak, pale streams of sunlight to filter in.\n\n//What a contrast between this area and the sunny ones elsewhere.// "This is the second corner we've turned. I suspect they had to build the passage around the geography."\n\n"I hardly like the murkiness of this hall," the Lecturer answers, and he stops to cast a supplemental spell that enlarges and brightens the floating orb. With another wave of his hand, the orb drifts ahead a few paces--just in time to shed light on a hole in the ground. "Well, that's an unfortunate development," he says as he takes a step forward. "Stand back, please. I will check the stability of the surrounding floor."\n\n"Let me be of use for once today. I shall prod it with my staff here."\n\nHis eyebrows raised in surprise, he crosses his arms. "I cannot let you do that alone."\n\n//Young man, I cannot decide whether you are trying to be chivalrous or just patronizing.// "I don't believe it is a matter of your giving permission."\n\n"Lore Mistress, [[wait, please|Hey now whats that sound]]!"
''In the drafty, fireplace-lit dining hall of the manor of the lord of Nivean Pass, at suppertime...''\n\n"Kitchen girl? Kitchen girl, come here this instant!"\n\n//Goodness above. Is the beef diced too coarsely? Do the carrots still have a sliver of peel on them?// "Yes, milady?"\n\n"This is exquisite!" the lady of the manor exclaims, a rare smile brightening her usually peevish expression. "I have never had a fruit salad so distinctively chilled! And the beef, it's seared to perfection!"\n\n"Oh--I am happy to hear that, milady. I shall tell Uncle that you approve."\n\n"I must know his secret. Go ask him what changed today. Go!"\n\nIn the kitchen, the flickering heat of the cooking fire and the bubbling of the massive stew pot make the room feel as lively and cozy as always. The cook stands watch at the fire, stirring the pot's contents. Only briefly does he glance back. "You are empty-handed, child. She did not [[send back her plate|Particular]] this time? And she is not about to terminate our employment?"
''In the afternoon light, deep within the forest on the remote southern border of the kingdom, not far from the craggy base of Greymire Peak...''\n\nThe leaves blanketing the ground crackle underfoot, despite every attempt to tread stealthily. The winds rustle the branches and chill the skin. The only scent is that of the woods--of the trees, of the dirt, of the moist autumn air.\n\n//They're still farther in. Must move quickly, before dusk comes.//\n\nA brief manual inventory confirms the presence of a crossbow, enchanted with seeking assistance; a healthy supply of enchanted paralytic bolts; a serrated dagger; and an enchanted short sword, purchased to replace the one broken in the last encounter.\n\nThe last encounter--was it really that long ago?\n\n//She would say so.//\n\nAnd, in fact, she did say as much, [[early this morn|Flashback]].
//The chime seems to ring clearest near this pile of stone bricks. Perhaps this was a makeshift altar.// "Ah, so it is a companion piece to the relief above."\n\nHis tone remains subdued. "I haven't made myself clear. This carving is definitely of the Ascendant, and it does not match the one above. So the one above is not--"\n\n//Ah, yes! Here, slipped in behind the bricks.// Suddenly the meaning of the Lecturer's words sinks in, and the excitement at finding another journal piece fades in the face of a disconcerting truth. "The one above depicts--? That cannot be!"\n\nHe nods solemnly as he rolls up the rubbing and places it in his sack. "It must be." Noticing the journal piece, he smiles. "Ah, you found another. If you please?"\n\n"Oh, um--yes. I will read this."\n<blockquote>Holy Sovereign, on this eve of our battle, thank you and your cohort for bestowing magic upon us, for bestowing new courage and insight. On the morrow we will execute your command. We will rise up against our tormentors everywhere, and drive them from the world. We will banish their beasts, those myriad fiends, from the world. We will do so just as you and the other gods of life and freedom will war with the gods of power and cruelty. You will be triumphant, and Ascendant; they will be Vanquished. I am ever grateful for your blessing. I pledge myself again to you, endlessly. And I, Elys Stoneman, will fight with all of my being in your name, for the sake of all men.</blockquote>The Lecturer seems on the verge of tears. "Lore Mistress, you've done it: You've made the [[discovery of a lifetime|Hints of a return]]."
To the south, the trees remain dense, though the ground becomes progressively firmer. The smell of otherworldly death is no stronger here than at the previous location. <<set $bless = $bless +2>>\n\n//I do not know why I listened to you, strange blade. I do not need any help.//\n\nThe last confrontation with the fire fiends, a little over two years ago, occurred close to the foot of Greymire, another 20 minutes' walk to the northeast. There were four of them then: three slender, lithe scouts and one hulking chief. \n\nOrdinarily, four against one would not have been a problem. The beasts' dual auras--emanations that fomented petrifying fear in ordinary men before searing their flesh--were in full force, but the magic immunity neutralized the effects as always. \n\nOn that occasion, however, the fiends exhibited coordination instead of their usual savagery, and though the scouts were handily outmaneuvered and beheaded, the fight took just long enough to allow the chief to release a charged magical attack that the immunity could not block--a booming burst of unearthly, fiery light that stunned only briefly but permanently reduced vision to a cloudy, smoky blur.\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Aolf jvtl. Adv.<<becomes>>They come. Two.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//I cannot trust you.//\n\nSure enough, however, a familiar sound--of clawed feet pacing back and forth, alternating speed in a perfect rhythm--begins to [[draw near|Get the jump]].
//He does not look good.// "Er--excuse me, madam healer. Will he be all right?" \n\nThe gentle woman sighs. "After extensive recuperation. I fear that he may lose use of his sword arm for a while. He will have to retrain himself, after he regains his strength."\n\nThe young guard, his face drawn and pale, chuckles ruefully, but grimaces again as the pain ripples through him. "So much for my plans to go delving soon."\n\n//This shouldn't have happened.// "I am so sorry. This was my fault."\n\n"What are you saying, old man? You're not the leader of the bandits!" the young guard exclaims. "It's my job to protect you."\n\n//I feel sick.// "That you did. Thank you for saving my life."\n\n"And it's my job to protect your junk cart too," the guard says, eyeing the overturned cart and crates. "Not to mention that strange little sword there."\n\n"Oh, I'd almost forgotten. It's, um, glowing more than before." //Why am I so uneasy?//\n\n"It certainly is, old man. I think you have [[a real find|Hunter begins]] there."
//So here's where she stood this afternoon, preaching, chanting, the sword in her hands. The crowd must have been a hundred strong. Everyone was enthralled, even the guards at the doors. It felt transcendent--even to me, all the way in the back.// \n\nThe altar is adorned with intricate abstract carvings. //Well, Conventus, it's just you and me.// A cautious touch of a fingertip to the fine-grained wood produces no reaction. //No zap of energy? Hm--guess I was steeling my nerves for nothing. All right, then.// In the rear panel is a small locked door. Retrieving the bundle of lock picks from the satchel and setting to work on the tumblers requires only seconds. //That's it. Ah, there they are.// Inside is a gleaming, ornate headdress, along with a nearly perfect white orb and an elegant scepter. //Tuck 'em into the satchel...and relock the cabinet. Now for the hard part.//\n\nUnlike other temples, the house of Conventus magically seals the front doors at night. The only exit is down the rear corridor and through the back door, which leads to the walled commune for the adherents, the "companions"--another aspect in which this faith diverges from all others in the known lands.\n\n//Time to get going.//\n\nThe sound of [[quiet, tentative footsteps|Whos there]] in the corridor puts a sudden end to the plan.
The highwayman lingers, watching the writhing guard with obvious pride in his venomous handiwork.\n\n//Wait, what's that light over there by the crates?// On the ground, among the spilled cargo ejected from the overturned junk cart, just visible under scraps of metal and broken utensils, is the strange short sword, a gentle, almost imperceptibly pulsing green glow emanating along its entire length.\n\n//Augh--that bandit's going to kill him! But I can't be out there! I'm no fighter! I can't!//\n* [[Remain hidden safely in the bushes.|Cower passively]]\n* [[Try to step out, grab the strange sword, and rush at the bandit.|Mad dash]]\n
<center>[img[unassuming2.jpg]]</center>\n<h4><center>[[Before You Begin|Before you begin]]</center></h4><h4><center>[[About|About]]</center></h4><h2><center>[[BEGIN THE STORY|Parcel ignored]]</center></h2>
Three paces slow, three paces fast--the fire fiends' methodical timing while exploring, guarding, or stalking stands in contrast to the brutal nature of their attacks, which they unleash only when they are certain of their target.\n\n//Yes, sounds like a pair of scouts. Should stay hidden here among the trees, and try to get off some shots before they spot me.//\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast. //Ready.//\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast. //Can feel them. Left one first; it's slightly closer.//\n\nThree paces slow, three paces fast. //Fire!//\n\nOne enchanted bolt flies toward the blurry shadow on the left, then another. Strangled howling confirms that both bolts have hit their mark. //Now for the other.//\n\nThe fiend on the right breaks its deliberate pace and charges in, its flame aura igniting with a furious crackle. Two bolts hit, halting the beast only a couple of steps away. Paralyzed, the beast snarls.\n\nAlthough the two figures sprawled on the ground are blurs, their moans are enough of a clue, and after a few hacks with the [[enchanted sword|Prowler]], both fiends are decapitated.
"You guys always wrap things up neatly?" The next hand is pretty good. "10." Clink.\n\n"I wouldn't say 'neatly,' not when there's so much blood sometimes," he chuckles. "But with several big fellas all swinging steel, yeah, things tend to settle down real fast." He merely glances at his hand this time, and tosses in his coins.\n\n"Aren't you ever scared?" The first draw is decent. "Up 10 more." Clink.\n\n"No, why would I be?" The pale green flash flickers once more. "Um, 10, you say?" Clink.\n\n"Dunno--you might sometimes think it isn't worth the money to go risking your life on stuff you don't actually care about."\n\n"What, you getting philosophical on me?" His meaty fingers grip his cards tightly. "The pay is all that matters." The green flash is brief but distinct. "I doubt it's worth the money for you to [[waste your life|Do not waste it]] in slow motion, standing around all day watching those warehouses outside."
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"Will he be all right, madam healer?"\n\n"Yes, good sir, after some time to convalesce and gather his strength. It's fortunate you called me when you did; even just a few more seconds, and the damage would have been much worse. A great deal of suffering, and eventually it would have been fatal."\n\nThe young guard, his cheeks already seeming to regain their color, chuckles lightly--and promptly winces. "So what I've been feeling is not a great deal of suffering? I should like a second opinion."\n\n//This is my fault.// "I am so sorry. I ran--I made myself a moving target."\n\n"No, old man, don't apologize. It's my job to protect you."\n\n"And that you did. Thank you for saving my life."\n\n"I figure that you probably helped to save mine, too. That poisoner looked like he was about ready to finish me off."\n\n"I don't know that I helped. I just saw this strange sword lying there, and..." //Is it glowing more than it used to?//\n\n"Ah, that blade. When we get to Elyston, you'd better have it identified as you planned. I think you have [[a real find|Hunter begins]]."
//Is it behind the wall? Mm, no. This next chamber, over here? Augh, now it's gone.//\n\n"Lore Mistress, where are you going? We dare not separate in here. Who knows--"\n\n"Worry not, you need not place a leash on me." //Perhaps near the staircase...// At the top of the stairs stretching down into the murky darkness of the lower level, the chime grows [[a touch louder|Follow your ear]], and persists a moment longer.
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"High acolyte, you anger Conventus," the priestess declares, her expression hardening. "You now distort The Deity's word."\n\n"I distort nothing," the young woman replies, reaching her free hand out to the wall as she teeters. "The Ascendant blessed me in my dreams, gave me new senses, bestowed on me the awareness to resist."\n\n//Both...so beautiful...burning fire...want them both...//\n\n"The Ascendant lie and manipulate!" the priestess cries. "It is our duty to reject them!"\n\n//Claiming, capturing, possessing... Groaning, screaming, rising, shattering, spinning... No--it hurts, aches...sick... We have to flee!// \n\nSomehow the high acolyte reads that last thought, and she turns and stumbles toward the rear door. Discarding her knife, she fishes awkwardly in her belt pouch for the door key, finally producing it and turning the lock. Before she can open the door, however, she crumples to the floor with a moan.\n\n//Must help her...a few steps...can't stay upright...// The cold, hard floor offers no relief from the mental chaos.\n\nThe priestess approaches and bends down, gently taking the satchel and [[pulling the sword|Mine you hear]] from the belt.
"On the contrary," she replies, finishing her wine. "Conventus encourages the pursuit of satisfaction--in all its forms."\n\n<<display "Deeper knowledge">>
The second draw is even better than the first. "Make it 25 more." Clink. "I'm just trying to figure out what keeps you going as a sellsword. I wouldn't have pegged you as becoming one way back when."\n\n"What, 25?" He ponders his hand, his brows knit in concentration. A moment later he grumbles, "I gotta fold. And I haven't changed at all." The sword flashes again.\n\n"Thank you very much." The pot is cleared. "My deal again."\n\nAbruptly he holds up his hand. "Wait a sec. I gotta say something, 'cause it's been bugging me: You've been blinking funny all night."\n\n//I've been reacting to the sword's flashing? I've been giving out a tell all this time? Damn it, I never thought of that!//\n* [["Okay, I admit it: I wince when you talk so casually about killing people."|Not so squeamish]]\n* [["Okay, you got me. I've noticed something about your sword. And I think it's a danger to you if you don't dump it."|Half truth]]\n
//Wonderful. Why couldn't it have been words? It had to be an art piece, his specialty.// "Well then, while you're occupied with that, I'll examine the rest of this room, all right?" \n\nA brief survey suggests that this hall--a prayer hall, probably, judging from the size and orientation--holds no more secrets. //If it did have anything, especially shiny things, the delvers now possess them.// Poking the staff around the piles of crumbled stone and splintered wood reveals nothing of interest--no tablets, no scrolls, not a scrap.\n\nAs he focuses on his rubbing of the carving, the Lecturer starts to sing under his breath.\n<blockquote><blockquote>Ascendant above us\nGods divine\nMade us\nBlessed us\nBeloved mankind</blockquote></blockquote>//Augh--I will never know why the Academy gave its very first teaching position to this...// "Lecturer, I hardly need to hear nursery rhymes. Do you also sing them to your class?"\n\nCaptivated by the carving, he avoids a direct answer. "I am inspired by this ancient work. It is clearly a homage to the immortals, and it is the first one we've seen with most of the pantheon present. Although--" Finished with the rubbing, he holds the parchment at arm's length and studies it in the glow of the orb. "That's [[puzzling|Picture puzzle]]."
The boy shrugs. "I'll find something else shiny." Abruptly, his eyes widen and he breaks into a huge smile. In a flash he speeds off down the side hall.\n\n"Little sneak," the guard grumbles. His mood improves again, however, as he stands. "Rosebud, I know you're busy. Perhaps there will be time for, um, us to talk later?"\n\n"Oh! Er, yes, I should like that, indeed. Until then. And, um, thank you again!"\n\nBack in the kitchen, the cook sits at the center table, his head down on his crossed arms.\n\n"Uncle, I--I do not have it."\n\nHe groans as he slowly sits up. "You could not locate the boy?"\n\n"Er, no. The sword is now back in the armory."\n\n"What?" His shoulders slump in despair. "How? No, no, no--I can't do without it!"\n\n"Of course you can. We got through this luncheon with it, and that's fine. But your cooking has always been good, and you don't need magic help. We always [[find a way|Simple pleasures]]."
The fire fiend crashes to the ground, groaning. After two hacks with the strange sword and a bit of sawing with the serrated dagger, its head rolls free.\n\nQuick rummaging through the pack produces a healing potion. The sweet red liquid goes down smoothly, and the burning in the wound eases slightly. //Still hurts a lot. Hard to breathe. Going to be one long trek back to town. But first, some unfinished business.//\n\nJudging from the mix of growling and wheezing, the debilitated chief is still suffering from the bolts' effects. //Pathetic. I thought revenge would be more satisfying.//\n\nEven so, a few words seem appropriate. "You came back to finish me off, didn't you?"\n\nGrowling. Wheezing.\n\n"I didn't think you beasts had this ability--to scheme, to hold a grudge. And I didn't know you could control your...journey...so precisely. That is grave news indeed. Maybe I ought to thank you for teaching me something today."\n\nOne hack with the sword. Two. Three. [["Much appreciated."|Gamblers begin]]\n
"See, now here's the thing," the guard continues. "I haven't always been a caravan guard, and I don't intend to stay one. I'm just earning some wages for a while, and saving up. I may join a ruin-delving party in the near future. Whereas you have been a scavenger all your life, if I heard correctly when we set out."\n\n//The lad honestly believes I haven't heard this argument before.// "And you think what I do has little worth."\n\n"No, I am merely wondering: If each of us has a destiny, why is it that some people are destined for greatness and others are destined to transfer junk and scraps from one man's hands to another man's?"\n\n//Ah, now that's where you're wrong.// "It isn't always junk. Take this piece, for example. It's [[a real find|Describe the sword]]."
With the armory door secured once again, the guard visibly relaxes. "So, rosebud, how about you, er, walk the grounds with me later on, maybe watch the sunset?"\n\n"Oh! Um, I hope that I might. But there will be so much cleaning--"\n\nThe guard nods once. "Don't worry," he says. "You know where to find me."\n\nBack in the kitchen, the cook is pacing in front of the grill. "Is it done, child?"\n\n"Yes, but--Uncle, you look close to sickness. What's wrong?"\n\nHe wrings his hands, distraught. "I need that sword back the moment the tour moves on from the armory. The venison steak will require proper searing, or Her Ladyship--"\n\nLowering one's voice seems especially prudent all of a sudden. "Uncle, your cooking has always been good. Her wishes are peculiar. Maybe it would be better not to indulge--"\n\n"No, child, you don't understand. She will terminate us for embarrassing her, and I have no idea where we could go. You have to get that sword back, please!" In that moment, Uncle seems far older than his years, his receding hair looking whiter than ever.\n* [[Wait for the tour to pass, and then retrieve the sword from the armory.|Grab and go]]\n* [[Refuse to retrieve the sword.|Natural talent]]\n
"Okay, fine, I wish I had a better one," he confesses, his shoulders drooping a bit.\n\n//Got him--I think.// "It's the cost, isn't it? You aren't getting paid quite enough to really kit yourself out."\n\n"Yeah, and it doesn't help that you keep wiping me clean," he grunts, waving his hand at the stacks of coins. "Augh, I should get something bigger tomorrow. A long sword. Gonna be tight, though. Won't get a lot from selling this thing, since I've used it so much and it's only a bit damage-enchanted."\n\n"I still think it's nice. But if no one will pay you much...listen, I know you don't want to be some charity case, but I want to do you a favor, since we're friends. I'll give you half of my winnings here to buy that sword."\n\nHe stares at the coins. "Gods, I really did lose a ton to you tonight, didn't I? Could really use that cash back." His hand moves to rest atop the sword's pommel.\n\n//Hope my "sympathetic" face is convincing.// "It's [[up to you|Transaction]]."
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"Then you ain't really living," he proclaims with a guffaw. "Oh, hey, speaking of risks, I tried that line you suggested. Tried it on //her,// I mean."<<set $miniexcite = true>>\n\n<<display "That line">>
"You don't understand, child." He tosses up his hands in exasperation. "I need that blade's help. I can't take her repeated criticism. Every time she sends back her plate, every time she wastes the food we prepare, it says a million words."\n\n"Uncle, it is enough to try our honest best, by ourselves."\n\n"No! She is unreasonable, and I cannot abide by it!"\n\nFrom the open door to the dining hall comes an icy, familiar voice. "Cook, I was coming to congratulate you on the luncheon," says the lady of Nivean Pass, her glare harsh. "But since you now insult me, I am all too glad to arrange your departure."\n\n"My lady, please, I meant no offense. I--"\n\n"Hush!" Her reply is loud enough to still the ladies' conversation in the dining hall. "Your service is terminated, both of you!"\n\n"Milady, our deepest apologies. Won't you reconsider?"\n\nBefore the irate lady of the manor can answer, however, her daughter appears at her side. "She doesn't have to reconsider, dear maid, because you and your uncle will be coming with me to the Corregars. Our cook is elderly, and retiring in a few weeks."\n\nThe lady of Nivean Pass stares in shock. "Daughter, how could you want this trash?"\n\n"It's very simple, Mother," the lady of the Corregars answers. "I would adore a large bowl of one of his [[hearty soups|Ruins begins]]."
The cook stands as close to the door as possible without being seen, his eyes cast at the floor as he attempts to listen in on the nobles' conversation.\n\n"Uncle, can you hear what they're saying?"\n\n"Snippets," he whispers back. "The lord is getting down to business. Political matters. It's all over my head." He says nothing for quite some time. At last he grins slightly. "The lady just commented on the 'delightful texture' of the steak. I think we did it."\n\n"Ah, wonderful! Now we can--"\n\nAbruptly the cook lurches away from the door and hurries to the grill, agitated. "Quick, child, back to work!"\n\nWithin moments, the governor of the northeastern quarter--a man even taller, rounder, and whiter-haired than the lord--appears at the door. "Cook!" he bellows. "I wish to commend you on the luncheon. [[Excellent work|Good job]] indeed."
"Uncle--no. That sword belongs in the armory, not here." <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\n"But child, that blade's magic would ensure that we have the lady's favor."\n\n"It is not right to take the lord's property. Or to use magic when we don't understand it. And--well, I think it would be better if we provided our employers with good, honest food, made with our hearts. That is why we were hired in the first place."\n\nDespite his fretful pacing, the cook tilts his head, appearing to mull the situation over. "You--you are correct. But she has been so displeased with us since then."\n\n"Not always. Sometimes she says nothing harsh to us."\n\n"But every time she sends back her plate, every time she wastes the food we prepare, it says a million words."\n\n"That is her way, Uncle, and we cannot change her. We can merely control what we do."\n\nAt last the cook stops pacing, sighs, and takes up his tongs. "You speak wisely, child. Summon the steward, so that he may [[serve the meal|Ordinary meal]]."
She sips again and continues. "The other temples say that the natural state of the universe is opposition, conflict, war. The other temples claim that the Ascendant are our creators, and that they tirelessly battle against the Vanquished to prevent those gods deemed lesser from seizing and despoiling this mortal world. The other temples are wrong. Conventus is the highest consciousness. Conventus is the joining of everything. Ascendant and Vanquished. Day and night. Hot and cold." With the very tip of her tongue, she licks a bead of wine from the edge of the cup. "Female and male."\n\n//Mm, nice...// "Ah--I do recall your saying such things during the prayer, I think. It was quite the captivating ritual."\n\nSeveral more sips, and her eyes gleam once more. "Then it was as I intended." She bends forward, such that the neckline of her deep blue robes dips just so. "Tell me, seeker: What do you desire?"\n\n//Those curves... Augh, I don't want to play with fire. Not on a big job like this. Not in a house of worship. Keep pretending, a while longer...//\n* [["I want satisfaction, fulfillment. Perhaps that is selfish."|Gimme that]]\n* [["I want to know peace. Is that not the ultimate goal?"|Peace out]]\n
//Ah, it is of no use. The gem is very close to those I supplied; it seems only a hair's breadth smaller in diameter. I must focus more deeply in meditation to compensate!// <<set $bless = $bless + 1>>\n\n<<display "Meditation">>
"This?" He glances down at it dismissively. "Dunno. Forgot where I grabbed it from."\n\n//Looted it, you mean.//\n\n"Not sure I like it. Little too light, little too short."\n\n"Can I see it?"\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n"Whatever." He shrugs, slides it out, and lays it on the table. In the flickering glow of the tavern's lanterns, the blade seems to have a pale blue-green shimmer.\n<<else>>\n"Whatever." He shrugs, slides it out, and lays it on the table. In the flickering glow of the tavern's lanterns, the blade seems to have a pale yellow-green shimmer.\n<<endif>>\n"Does it...do anything?"\n\n"They were stumped. Then they said it was damage-enchanted, is all." He takes another gulp from his mug, breaking into a wide grin when he puts it down. "Oh, hey, last week there was some doomsayer ranting in the street in Leneris..."\n\nThe first draw is unhelpful. //This hand is garbage.// "Another 10. Got a good feeling here."\n\nAll along the sword's steel length, a subtle [[green glow|Must have it]] pulses.
"Um--you're keeping the lord's sword? To use on the food?"\n\n"I have to." He rests his arms on the table, folding his hands--his usual signal that the conversation has ended. "We need the blade's magic to keep the lady happy."\n\n"But what if the lord finds out? What if something happens to the blade? What--"\n\n"Calm yourself." He glances at the back corner of the grill, where the cloth-wrapped blade hides. "Perhaps the gods meant for this sword to help us."\n\n''The big day, as the luncheon is being served...''\n\n"Goodness, listen to the chatter! The ladies certainly have much to discuss, don't they?"\n\nThough the cook seems confident, he sighs as he places the currently icy sword on the side table, near the fruit parfaits. "I take comfort in their happy tone, child." He surveys the assorted bowls, pots, and pans. "Let us start cleaning up a little in here."\n\nThe [[lively conversations|The big day]] from the dining hall echo throughout, a stark contrast to the usual quietly tense mood in the manor.
"You have so little faith in your counterparts," she said.\n\n"I do not know much of the few other Immune who have committed to the responsibility. Defending against the fiends is...personal. An individual matter of becoming versed in the beasts' particular tactics. I do not know why. In the end I know only my own skill--something I have trusted repeatedly."\n\n"All the more reason to stop," she countered. "You have nothing left to prove."\n\n"People have certain expectations of someone who is Immune. I cannot be [[perceived as turning from my obligation|Different now]]."
"You're correct in that, old man," the guard says, strolling ahead of the cart a few paces as the road narrows and bends. "It is why I am here to help protect your junk cart, yes? Along with the others in the caravan, of course."\n\n<<display "Beside the point">>
Inside, the musty, leafy, slightly sour air assaults the nose, and the pale morning light filters in through the cracks and gaps in the ceiling. The construction of the buildings is crude, but the quality of the masonry is remarkable nonetheless.\n\n"Caution," says the Lecturer. "Portions here have given way." In one corner of the ceiling is a large hole, the resulting rubble lying in a haphazard pile directly underneath. \n\nHolding his right hand palm upward and closing his eyes, he mutters a few words. Then, upon a downward snap of his hand, a glowing orb appears floating over his head, providing a gentle light that adequately fills the room.\n\n//Hmph--show-off.// "I can see perfectly well."\n\n"Oh, it is no trouble," he replies breezily, scanning the room. "This entryway is empty. The adjoining chamber beckons."\n\nOn the way to the next room, however, something among the rubble catches the eye. "What is that under there?"\n\n"Allow me." He flicks his hand, and the orb descends closer to the rubble--where it softly illuminates a barely decomposing [[corpse|Former owner]].
"Your Highness!" A weary scout runs up and bows crisply. "The caves are clear."\n\n"Good." Prince Aldis rises and shouts to his troops. "Bring our wounded!" Before heading to the caverns, he nods to you. "Take heart. They have not snuffed us out yet."\n\nAs the remnants of the prince's forces scurry to the caves, you wipe your brow and pause a few moments to listen. The din of war has not ceased, not for a moment. The wilderness echoes with the shouts of men, the chants of the inhuman invaders, the clangs of metal, the shrieks of fiends, the cries of beasts, and the explosions of magic in conflict. You take one last sorrowful glance down at the anonymous fighter whose life you just failed to save--one of far too many fallen--and hasten to the shelter.\n\nThe moment you arrive, the prince spots you and points down at yet another suffering soldier. You rush to the fighter's side and focus on the gaping hole in his chest; the revulsion you feel at such sights will never dissipate, but considering how much you've seen over the past few days, you wonder whether you might become desensitized soon. \n\nTaking a deep breath, you utter the healing spell, surrendering your mind to the power within. The familiar surge of magic flows into your hand once again, and you hover your palm over the relentless flow of blood. Your power reaches into the man's body, attempting to stop the hemorrhaging, to prevent shock, to relieve pain.\n\nAnd once again, the wound resists your power, and this man too takes [[his last gasp|See the past]].
The boy whips his attention back to the pot and ladles extra soup to make up the difference, splattering still more on the floor. "You have to clean it!" he squeals as he makes for the door. "Clean it, maid!" <<set $minisoup = true>>\n\n<<display "Now that hes gone">>
"No, I do not think that is prudent," he objects, shaking his head. "We needn't be in such a hurry; we should be cautious and turn around now."\n\n//That chime--it's still ringing. What if it leads to something fantastic? If we leave and come back, maybe the chime will be gone, and I will never know what its origin or purpose was.// "Just one peek, Lecturer. I am not asking for another hour. Only one brief search at the end there, and then we can go, all right?"\n\nHe frowns in exasperation. "With all due respect, I fail to see why this is suddenly essential. We have enough for now, the Master requested only an initial survey."\n\n//That is what he asked of you, star of the Academy, because you can do no wrong.//\n* [[Ignore the Lecturer's complaint and move past the hole to the opposite end of the hall, toward the chime. (Perhaps relating how this debate ended with such an act of initiative and dedication will impress the Master.)|Walk on by]]\n* [[Persuade the Lecturer to come along toward the opposite end of the hall, in the interest of staying together for safety. (Maybe the Master will be pleased to hear that two of his underlings came to an accord so easily.)|All together now]]\n\n
The brigand takes a mighty swing, knocking the guard's long sword out of his grasp and sending the blade flying. Another swing, and the guard lurches back to dodge, barely keeping his balance for a few awkward steps before tumbling to the ground. The bandit, chuckling nastily, approaches the supine guard slowly, soaking in the moment. \n\n//He's going to die! What can I--? I can't! I've never--!//\n\nBeneath one of the splintered junk crates, among the chunks of scrap and broken utensils, an object flickers a pale green. It is the strange, unidentified enchanted blade. Its glow extending all along its length, it seems to call out, the message unintelligible.\n* [[Grab the strange sword and toss it toward the guard.|Toss from cart]]\n* [[Grab the strange sword and attack the bandit from behind.|Attack from cart]]\n
//It's wasted if he keeps it. He doesn't even know what it does.// "So...you staying in the capital for long?"\n\n"Probably not." He shuffles and deals, again in a perfunctory manner. "Think we'll have a big assignment lined up in the next day or so. Heard it might get rough." After draining the last of his ale, he slaps the mug back down and snorts. "Can't wait to bust some heads open."\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n//I must have that sword.//\n* [[Try to convince him to give up the sword.|Persuasion score]]\n* [[Buy him more ale to try to make him more open to suggestion.|Bottoms up]]\n<<else>>\n//I must have that sword.//\n* [[Try to finagle him into giving up the sword.|Persuasion score]]\n* [[Try to dull his senses with more ale.|Bottoms up]]\n<<endif>>
"We are not going over this again. The fire fiends are brutal, but they are creatures of instinct. I know how they behave. I can--"\n\n"And now," she continued, ignoring the interjection, "you're going to charge out there and let the beasts finish what they started."\n\n"I have to do this."\n\n"No, you don't. Let us call for someone else who can."\n\n"There is no time. I am the only one in the area."\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n"The situation is different now."\n* [["I refuse to put my burden on another. I will not be replaced."|Local boy]]\n* [["I made a promise to this region."|Keep your word]]\n<<else>>\n"The situation is different now."\n* [["No one can match my experience."|High skills]]\n* [["I cannot simply 'retire.' It would be a show of weakness."|Retirement]]\n<<endif>>
Heading back through the underground rooms takes merely moments, but just as the stairs come into view, a horrible, unnatural sound fills the air, akin to a clap of thunder but felt in the very marrow of one's bones.\n\nThe Lecturer presses his hands to his temples and grits his teeth in pain as the sound changes into a low, menacing hum and the ground vibrates. "What...what is this...this distortion I'm sensing? Gods! Stop it, stop it, please!"\n\nThen, as abruptly as it came into being, the sound ceases, and somehow the earth and the air return to normal. From overhead, however, a new, subtle grinding suggests that the ruins' structural integrity may be in danger.\n\nUp the stairs and near the corpse of the unfortunate delver, the ruins still seem stable for now, but just the same it is certain relief to set foot outside and feel the warm midmorning sunlight and fresh air of the Bondillar Highlands.\n\nA quick check of the ruins' periphery uncovers no hints of an unnatural event. The surrounding wilderness appears undisturbed.\n\n"All right. We must hurry [[back to the Academy|Back to school]]," the Lecturer says, walking briskly down the gentle slope to the south as he dismisses his glowing orb with a wave.
Inspired by fantasy RPGs (and some of their tropes), ''"Lore: A Tale of a Sword and Those Who Wielded It"'' is a branching narrative about a peculiar enchanted blade.\n\nOverall the story has three endings (you haven't reached one until you see "THE END"). If you wish to save your progress and continue later, use the Saves link to the left and pick a save slot before closing your browser window. To use the Saves function, your browser should not be in a private mode.\n\nThis story was tested in Internet Explorer 10, Firefox, Chrome (Windows), and Safari 5.1 (Mac) on desktop and laptop computers, as well as in iOS 7 and Android 4.1.2.\n\n<h4><center>[[Return to the start|Start]]</center></h4><h4><center>[[About|About]]</center></h4><h2><center>[[BEGIN THE STORY|Parcel ignored]]</center></h2>
"Don't worry," the stable master's son chirps. "It wasn't you I snuck past."\n\nFor the guard, confusion swiftly gives way to an uneasy realization. He points to the sword, and then points to the armory door with a questioning look.\n\n"Yes, I'm afraid so. But the boy and I have agreed to return it."\n\n"By the gods, rosebud," the guard mutters. "Now I know why--well, let's just say a certain senior guardsman--has been insisting that we don't need to take the usual inventory in there." As the guard fumbles a bit in taking out his key and unlocking the armory door, the stable master's son giggles in satisfaction.\n\nThe air inside is cool and dry. While the blades, shields, and other pieces in the back are for everyday use, several in the front seem to be part of the lord's personal collection. It is here where a low rack sits conspicuously empty. Repositioned on the rack, the strange sword--giving no sign of cold or heat--seems plain amidst all the fancy ones.\n\nWith the door secured, the guard visibly relaxes. He bends down to the boy's eye level. "You promise not to try another stunt like that? [[Dangerous things|No more help]] are inside."
Resting a hand on the enchanted sword's jeweled pommel is enough to produce a familiar sensation of restrained confidence. "I don't know exactly what you're doing to the people here, priestess, but I do know it isn't right." The dizzying feeling of the priestess's mental intrusion ebbs.<<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nShe pauses about three paces away, and smiles condescendingly. "You do know what we accomplish here. We fulfill desires. That is why I am sad to see that you are not actually a candidate. You are a man whose desires are worth exploring thoroughly."\n\n//No, she's trying to dominate my mind again. Whispers...suggestions. Feeling ill...// Holding the grip of the sword sends a wave of calm and clarity. "You compelled me."\n\n"We did not do anything we did not both wish. You wanted me. I wanted you. As Conventus declares, rejecting desire is to deny oneness and the energy of life."\n\nBewilderment swells but then recedes once more. "So this 'community' is just a place to keep your playthings."\n\nHer pitying smile remains. "Such [[limited vision|Wheres your imagination]]. Everyone is like that when they first come here."
//I am no jeweler, but at least I know some fundamentals of the craft. I must correct this egregious error!// <<set $curse = $curse + 1>>\n\nPrying out the improper jewel takes little time, though a single slip of the tool nicks the pommel slightly. Inserting one of the correct gems is also mostly effortless, and soon the blade looks whole again.\n\n<<display "Meditation">>
"You always have a good feeling." He regards his cards halfheartedly. "Yeah, 10." Clink. "So this fellow's going on about the end of mankind, and we're goading him, and then he all of a sudden gets real close to me, looks me in the eye, and hisses, 'The Ascendant are watching.' I had to shove the loon to the ground, he was so in my face. He gets right up, all calm, and then starts shouting to nobody again, like nothing happened! The guys ribbed me about it all night!"\n\n//Imagine having that sword nearby all the time. I could tell when anybody was bluffing. I'd have a sure edge. I could beat every man in this room.// The second draw is no better than the first. "Wow, now there's a great card." Flash. "20 more." Clink.\n\n"Eh? 20?" He considers the remnants of his stack of coins, and then gazes longingly at the pile in the center. "Ah, the hell with it." Clink.\n\n//I need that sword.// "Here's what I've got."\n\n"Gods, man, why do I always fall for your bluffs? At least we're tied this time--haven't lost my shirt yet!" After divvying up the pot and claiming his half, he grabs the sword and [[slides it back|Whats yours is mine]] into his scabbard.
"Well, priestess, I very much like what I see here. I hope you'll consider admitting me to the faith." //They said the sleeping potion's effect would be subtle. Just keep her talking, until it kicks in...//\n\nShe rises and approaches the podium on the opposite side of the room, where the ceremonial sword she had carried for the day's prayer rests on its stand. Her graceful fingers caress it, slowly drawing a line along its jeweled pommel, its grip, and the side of the blade, trailing off at the tip. "You are always welcome in my temple."\n\n//I...lightheaded. Can't take my eyes off her. Must...have her... Want her...//\n\nShe kneels close and coos, "Let us end the pleasantries. I see your hunger."\n\n//Aching...//\n\n"Do you wish deeper knowledge?" she whispers, sinking back to the pillows and releasing the laces holding her robes.\n\n[["Yes."|Not the plan]]\n
Squatting down, the Lecturer assesses the body's apparel and gear. "A delver."\n\n"Damned delvers. At least these ruins exacted justice before he could pilfer anything."\n\nThe Lecturer reaches for something, stands up, and approaches. "I am already armed, as you can see. Perhaps you would like to carry this for defense?" In his hands is a sheathed short sword, attached to a belt.\n\n"Did you just loot a looter?" //I must admit that is slightly amusing.// "I do not desire a dead fool's belongings. Besides, I have my staff."\n\n"With all due respect, we do not know what we will encounter out here. We've all heard the reports--fiend sightings are no longer confined to the outskirts. Neither one of us is Immune, probably, but we ought to have a fighting chance, at least." He glances through the doorway outside. "And even if no fiends should ambush us, there are the ordinary beasts of the wilderness to consider."\n\n//Is this boy trying to unnerve me so that I abandon this project and leave it to him?//\n\nHe nods toward the proffered sword. "If you do not wish it now, I can carry it in case you change your mind."\n* [[Take the sword to avoid giving an impression of cowardice (and to prevent any condescending remarks from the Lecturer).|Waving it around]]\n* [[Refuse the sword to give an impression of confidence (and to encumber the Lecturer with an additional bulky object).|No please take it]]\n
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"And I also thank the Ascendant that your life has been free of danger," the guard says, strolling ahead a few paces as the road narrows and bends. "But at least you have a bit of combat knowledge, for those times when the gods may cast their glance away."\n\n<<display "Beside the point">>
You relate your findings to the princess, who listens intently. "It is enchanted to do extra damage," you say, "and it tunes itself to its owner. It is torn, because of the behavior of its past wielders. But it seems eager to fulfill its purpose, one way or the other."\n\nPrincess Deidri accepts the blade from you and regards it with respect. "So perhaps I will determine its fate?"\n\n"And perhaps it will determine yours. I pray to the Ascendant that it will guide you true. May it secure your well-being."\n\nShe nods and looks you squarely in the eye. "Pray for the well-being of far more people than just I." Turning her attention back to the horizon, she collects her thoughts for a moment before speaking again. "Tell me, royal mage, how do you see this--whatever is happening--turning out? Will we triumph? Will we even survive?"\n\nReviewing the events you saw in your mind as you plunged into the strange sword's history, you answer hesitantly. "I honestly do not know, Your Highness. But I would venture that we at least have the will to do so."\n\n"Yes, we do," she responds, tightening her grip on the sword. "Let it drive us, to the last."\n\n<center>THE END</center>\n<center>(Ending 3 of 3)</center>
"The Ascendant are real," the high acolyte murmurs, managing a slight, pained smile. "That is the concern."\n\n"You will cease this! The deceivers are corrupting you!"\n\n//She's too strong...she won't stop! Whispers, shouts... So powerful, so passionate, so beautiful...no...// Thanks to continued contact with the sword's hilt, the chatter begins to dissolve and the sensation of vertigo ebbs. "I don't get what you're doing to these people, priestess--what you hope to gain."\n\n"She preaches to us about unity, but also about surrender," the high acolyte explains, her voice strained. "We are no longer ourselves, only our desires. She exploits hunger."\n\n"You are such a child," the priestess sneers. "Still you do not comprehend. But I will make you understand!"\n\n"Augh!" The high acolyte reels, but manages to stay on her feet, crashing against the wall instead of the floor. With her waning strength, she suddenly pushes her hand into her belt pouch and retrieves something small and shiny, which she tosses in the air. "Here...thief...take it and go!"\n\n//The key!// \n\nIt fits perfectly, and the temple's rear door [[swings open|Exit strategy]].
Breathing the stagnant air in this cramped, dark room induces one to choke. Floating into the middle of the space, the glowing orb reveals that shards of pottery blanket the floor. The Lecturer gingerly steps in, and the tiniest bits crunch underfoot as he bends to pick up a couple of large pieces. "Two styles. This one bears fine, sophisticated decoration, and a smooth surface. But this one is coarse and not even fully glazed."\n\n//The chime--where is it coming from? In this corner? I see no crack at the floor. Oh, up there. I must stand on my toes, but--ouch!//\n\n"Lore Mistress, would you like some help?"\n\n"No! Um, no, thank you. I have it now."\n<blockquote>I shall not tell her. She will discover the bruises and welts tonight, and a cloud will cross her beautiful face as she traces them with her fingertips. But I shall not tell her how or why they did this to me, just as she-- No. Instead I shall enfold her, and tell her that I am alive, and she is alive, and that is all that matters. We shall teach our child the same. We shall live as well as we can, despite what they say and do to us. We are human, after all.</blockquote>At the back corner of the room stands another door. //Is that the chime again? It's faint. We must investigate. I need more.// "Let us move along, Lecturer."\n\n"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to--"\n\n"We'll take care of that room with the wood [[on the way back|Plowing on]]."
The green flash is brief and faint. //So you react to half-truths, too, blade? Good to know you're consistent.// <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\n"Since when have you been a weaponry expert?" he inquires, staring in confusion and suspicion. "And what's wrong with this thing? It's light and short, but it cuts and stabs."\n\n//Let's see if my "grave concern" face works.// "Haven't you noticed how strange it is? The glow is weird. I think maybe the mage you asked to identify it couldn't figure it out because it's cloaked." A dramatic pause for effect. "Cursed weapons do that a lot."\n\nA green flash pulses--but it does so only after a lull of several seconds, as if the sword had to think about how to respond.\n\n"Cursed?" He peeks at the blade hanging at his waist. "I guess it does glow a little, I dunno. I [[never pay attention|Inattentive]] to details like that."
//I can't believe you're asking me.// "Oh, Uncle, I would not presume to make such a decision. But as His Lordship needs to update the governor urgently, perhaps--" <<set $bless = $bless + 2>>\n\nBefore Uncle can respond, the lady of the house clucks her tongue. "Gods, how dull. Always politics, politics, politics."\n\n"Darling, it is only one day." Although the lord is irritated by his wife's displeasure, he also seems grateful that the governor's visit will not be an extended stay. "Cook, maid, I trust that you will please the governor as he requires. You are dismissed."\n\nBack at the kitchen table, the chicken soup is lukewarm, but it hasn't lost any of its comforting flavor. "Oh, the governor. Goodness above, he's such an imposing man, even more so than the lord."\n\n"Worry not, child. He demands much, but only in terms of quantity. He does not compare to the lady in terms of, shall we say, a discriminating palate. And even though both of our benefactors will be dining along with him, the meal is sure to satisfy all, since I'll have [[my 'secret'|Have to put it back]] at hand."
"Lecturer, I appreciate your concern. I swear that we will leave soon. But aren't you curious as to what lies just paces away? Please, accompany me and we will see." <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nHe sighs as he commands the glowing orb to hover a bit higher so that it illuminates the remainder of the passage. "All right, you've piqued my interest. Let it not be said that we were careless in our investigation."\n\n//That was easier than I anticipated. Now to edge past this hole--yes, the floor is quite solid. But my legs are still shaking. Gods, I have to get ahold of myself!//\n\nAt the end of the hallway, the light of the orb extends only a fraction into what seems like a large round chamber. "My," he exhales as he cranes his neck to take in the sight. "What could they have used this space for? Some other kind of gathering that the prayer hall couldn't hold? Ritual?"\n\n//The chime! Over here, beside the door? There's just a small pile of rubble. Underneath? Oh--I think it's a scroll, probably a spell scroll!//\n\n"Ah, good, I see you found something. That's--"\n\nIt comes from nowhere: A boom, not unlike a clap of thunder but felt deep in the bones more than heard. And suddenly, before one's eyes, the hallway seems to warp and distort, as if space itself were [[wavering and rippling|Ripples]].
Meditation proves to be far from restful this evening. Thoughts turn to the ritual, accompanied by whispers of hesitation and clouds of doubt. \n\n//The scrolls--so rare--came at an astounding expense. Why do we have so few writings from our enlightened ancestors, the immediate children of the most holy Ascendant? It must have been so inspiring to live in the First Days, the time of high magic, to be touched by the gods, even to have wondrous creatures as servants.//\n\n//Where did it all go? What happened to make our world the plain existence it is today? Why do we not know our own history? Day after day I applied myself to deciphering this strange script, yet even now gaps remain. Why do our predecessors seem so...removed from us, severed from our experience?//\n\n//Ah...no. Tonight is the culmination of all my labors. I will not be denied!//\n\nOver the next two hours, the whispers cease. The clouds dissipate.\n\n[["To the study, lad. It is time."|Begin ritual]]\n
Five knife-wielding men stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking the alley. The one in the center speaks again. "That's quite a little spat you've got going--it's lasted all the way from Pell's out to here. What say we take that blade off your hands, and then you won't have to argue about it anymore?" \n\n//Damn it, no...// "What do you plan on doing with it?"\n\n"Why the hell do you care? We're gonna sell it, of course. Now //you// hand the sword over. No funny stuff--keep it in the scabbard, give us the whole setup. Oh, and //you// toss us your coin pouch, too. Nice and easy... Now don't budge until you've counted to 1000." The men back out of the alley, their knives still at the ready. "May the gods grant you good fortune!"\n\nThe strange sword, set in its scabbard and tucked under the arm of the leader, flashes pale green one last time as the men [[disappear around the corner|Thems the breaks]].
"Well, would a dessert make you happy?" <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\n"It's got sweet cream in it, right?" The boy leans forward a bit, his frown gone. "I've never had a parfait." After evaluating his options for several seconds, the stable master's son cautiously nudges the sword over, just barely touching his finger to the hilt to do so.\n\n"Thank you very much." //I've never held a magic weapon before. It's lighter than I expected.// "I shall be right back with your dessert, I promise."\n\n"Okay." After a pause, the boy speaks again. "I was always careful with that, you know."\n\nIn the kitchen, the cook sits at the center table, his head down on his crossed arms.\n\n"Uncle, I have it!"\n\nImmediately he straightens up. "Wonderful, child! I can't thank you enough!" His joyous expression of relief softens slightly. "Was it the [[stable master's son|Unforced error]]?"
"No one would think less of you if you never brought back another fire fiend's head," she countered. "They already know what you've accomplished."\n\n"I cannot stop. Not when I still have all my other tools at my disposal. People have certain expectations of we few Immune who commit to the responsibility. I won't have people saying that I gave up. Stopping is surrender, and shame."\n\n"Refusing to stop is [[suicide|Different now]]."
//Oh, this sound will drive me mad, I just know it.// \n\nThe chime continues ringing faintly as he rolls up the parchment and stows it in his sack. "Lore Mistress, I take it that this hall holds nothing else?"\n\n"Hmph. Only the delvers know."\n\n"Very well, then. We dare not separate in this place, yes? Shall we be off to the adjacent chamber?" He steps toward the next room--and [[the chime ceases|Getting cold]].
"That was so kind of her, don't you think, Uncle? Uncle?"\n\nThe cook is silent, gazing dumbfounded at the side table where the parfaits sit. "Child, the sword is gone."\n\n"How--" The side table stands near the door to the scullery, which in turn opens to the back hall. "Uncle, I have a hunch. Wait here!"\n\nWringing his hands, the cook manages only a desperate nod of his head in response.\n\n//Now, let's try one of that boy's favorite hiding spots.// At the end of the back hall, underneath the staircase, is a storage nook, secured by a flimsy lock that is easily sprung open by a hairpin. //One twist, two...there!//\n\nSure enough, the stable master's son sits inside. Surrounding him are some of his playthings--as well as the sword, gleaming strangely even in the paltry illumination coming from the small lantern in the corner.\n\n"Hey!" the boy cries, instinctively pulling some of his belongings closer to his person. "You're [[not supposed to be here|Certain culprit]]!"
From the tiny, cramped kitchen comes a low grunt, followed by a barely disguised sigh. "It is done, master."<<set $curse = $curse + 1>>\n\n"And don't forget to set the table, as you so often do."\n\n<<display "Mealtime">>
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The space between the cart and the crates is narrow and dark, and provides a modicum of cover while allowing a partial view.<<set $bless = $bless + 2>>\n\nFrom the direction of the next wagon over come the sounds of a struggle, including a very familiar voice. The young guard, who was so talkative and carefree only a few moments ago, is locked in combat with a particularly stout bandit. \n\nThe guard almost seems like a different person as he wields his sturdy long sword: He is alert, quick, and confident. Unfortunately, although the guard is managing to parry every blow, the attacker--stronger and taller--is [[gaining the upper hand|Upper hand]].
"Not entirely. I--I am sorry it hurt you so."\n\n"Ah, that was not lasting," he replies, averting his eyes. "I don't know what I felt, exactly, but it was filling my head, resonating. How do I express this? It was magic, but inverted, in opposition. It felt wrong." A slight snap of his hand dismisses the glowing orb, and he indicates the gently sloping path to the south. "We have much to report to the Academy Master--about that distortion, and everything else."\n\n"Indeed. He will be pleased to see your pieces, and I am sure this scroll will provide plenty for me to study. It is quite lengthy and elaborate."\n\n"I am glad we both have some work to do." He glances back at the ruins. "But we are surely missing something."\n\n"I agree. Um, allow me to say that if the Master assigns me to return to these ruins, I would appreciate it if he also assigns you."\n\n"Oh? I am humbled by the compliment, Lore Mistress." For a few paces he casts his gaze at his feet.\n\n"We have so much to learn, Lecturer, so much yet to discover about mankind's First Days. We will not get to the whole truth without applying [[all of our effort|Begin the end]] to it."
//Out with it already.// "What is?" \n\nHe tilts his head. "Come and see, if you please." The image seems to depict the gods on their thrones. He points at the beings' heads, hands, and feet. "Note that the usual symbols of the Ascendant hierarchy, and their respective dominions, are absent. No interwoven crown, no jeweled rod, no sheaf of arrows, or the like. Instead we see other shapes, and I cannot discern their order."\n\n//Hardly a puzzle. Isn't this a rather crude image, after all? It's obviously a matter of interpretation. A more important concern: What is that sound?// \n\nEvery few seconds a faint chime rings out. The sound fades in, resonates for a brief moment, and then fades out again. "Lecturer, are you hearing that?"\n\n"Mm?" His eyes remain locked on the charcoal rubbing. "Er, no. What do you mean?"\n<<if $minisword eq true>>\n<<display "Detector">>\n<<else>>\n<<display "Just out of reach">>\n<<endif>>
At the armory door, the guard is both pleased and puzzled. "Oh, rosebud! You just missed them. The governor's very chatty today, good mood. And the lord seemed proud to show off his collection." <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\n"Unfortunately, that is not why I have returned. Uncle's reaction is as I feared."\n\n"Ah." His brow knit in concern, the guard reluctantly moves to retrieve the armory key once more. "Well, if this is for the best..."\n\n"I pray that it is. Thank you again."\n\nIn the kitchen, the cook stands staring at the venison steak arranged on the three garnished plates. When he looks up, his drawn, pale face immediately flushes with newfound confidence. "Thank you, child, thank you! Give it here!" \n\nFrom the moment he grasps the sword, the blade begins to emit an aura of heat, and he holds it over each piece of meat for a few seconds. "There. Just in time." Satisfied, he pauses again, and the blade turns cold. Hastily he grabs the cream-topped fruit tarts from the ice and sets them back on the side table, after which he snatches up the frosty sword and deposits it near them. At last, he sticks his head out the door to the dining hall and whispers, "Steward! Ready to [[serve the luncheon|Ready to serve]]!"
''On a bright morning, in the heart of the kingdom...''\n<<if $bless gte ($curse + 7)>>\n<<display "Blessings your majesty">>\n<<elseif $curse gte ($bless + 7)>>\n<<display "Curses your highness">>\n<<else>>\n<<display "Who knows your highness">>\n<<endif>>
Dodging and deflecting the second chief's brutal punches and swipes takes every bit of effort. Fortunately, the strange sword seems up to the task, despite its light weight. \n\nThe fire fiend remains relentlessly on the offensive. At last, it attempts to bite instead of swiping with its claws--and in the brief pause between its attacks, a lucky, precise stab with the strange sword penetrates one of its eyes, and it howls in agony. The next swing with the sword slices its fanged jaw.\n\nFrom a few paces away comes a peculiar rumbling. //I've...heard that before. The first chief is charging up!// Ducking behind the still-howling second chief is the only option. \n\nA heartbeat later, the charged stun attack courses through the immediate area with a bone-rattling boom. Most of its impact lands squarely on the second chief, and the huge fiend collapses to the ground with a shudder.\n\n//Gods, I ache all over. But at least I still have my wits.//\n\nThe second chief's head is soon [[removed|Last confrontation]]. So too is that of the immobilized scout.
In the darkness of the alley, the pale green flash of the sword seems especially bright. <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\n"It's always like that with you, isn't it?" he mutters. "I ain't betting it, not against you. What're you willing to pay for it?"\n\n//No way my coin purse is getting lighter tonight.// "How about what I proposed before, half of the whole pot? We'd be right back where we started."\n\n"Augh, man, don't make me draw this thing on you again. You just told me you think it's worth a lot of money!"\n\n"Shh--keep it down--"\n\n"But you're insulting me now, don't you get it?"\n\nAn unfamiliar voice pipes up from the entrance to the alley. "Fellas, it sounds like you have a dispute that needs [[resolving|Thank you very much]]."
All is quiet in this dimly lit roadside temple, aside from the subdued crackle of divine energy emitting from the altar at the far end. From your spot at the back near the closed door, alongside King Nordyn's two generals, you find it difficult to avoid gazing at the kneeling monarch as he communes with the Holy Sovereign, ruler of the Ascendant.\n\n"Excuse me," murmurs a calm but gravelly voice to your left. "Are you the royal mage?"\n\n"Yes, blessed priest," you whisper to the temple's guardian. "How may I assist?"\n\nYou realize that the aged priest is cradling a sheathed short sword in both hands. "The temple wishes to present a gift to His Majesty."\n\n"The temple?" you inquire as you accept the weapon.\n\n"It appeared on the altar two mornings ago. We suspect it may be an anonymous donation. All the brothers and sisters could sense something wondrous about it. And when His Majesty and all of you arrived today, we took that as [[a good omen|Good tidings]]."
The scrolls feel dry and cracked, but they resist crumbling into brittle pieces thanks to their imbued magic. In fact, their magic is so deeply woven into them that even just hovering one's fingertips above their surface produces an odd sensation, as if their power were pushing against one's own magical sensitivity, acting in opposition.\n\nTranslating them took years of effort, beginning with the recognition of patterns in which the strange letters appeared. Then, words similar to those in the modern tongue began to surface, and basic comprehension was secured despite the presence of terms that still confounded. That was when the goal became clear: Perform the ritual and learn of its secrets. Grasp the knowledge of the all-wise men of the First Days.\n\nThe time arrives. The scrolls become the only focus, and the room seems to fade.\n\nThe first words of the first scroll slip naturally from the tongue, their foreign tones singing a paean to the divine creators.\n\nThe flame of the central candle flickers to life.\n\nThe next words of the first scroll leap forth, proclaiming gratitude for immortal wisdom.\n\nThe final words of the first scroll tumble out, declaring unerring faith in the ritual.\n\n"I call to you, entities beyond," the ancient words intone. [["I summon you."|Ritual fails]]\n
A hush falls over the study. Though only a plain, ordinary sword at the moment, the blade already seems to glimmer slightly, filled with potential.\n\n//One more look at it, then. Yes, good. Yes--wait. The pommel jewel. What is this?! What is this nonsense?! It seems close enough, but I instructed the smithy to insert one of the gemstones I supplied!//\n\nFrantic scavenging through the parcel cloth produces the small pouch of gemstones that the apprentice had carried to the smithy along with the order many moons ago.\n\n//At least that damned smithy did not steal any of my gems. But what arrogance! Did he think this blade was merely ceremonial--did he think to beautify it? I cannot afford this divergence from the directions! This must be rectified! But there is no time, the ritual must happen tonight--I cannot wait years for the correct moment to return!//\n* [[Accept the substitute jewel.|Accept jewel]]\n* [[Attempt to pry out the substitute jewel and mount one of the real ones.|Pry out]]\n
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"Okay, here goes," he mutters. "This morning, I saw the butcher putting out some stock. And there were stray dogs, gazin' and droolin'. Three of 'em."\n\nA pale green flash. "False."\n\nHe nods. "Four. Sure enough, one dashes for the sausages, and the others follow. But they never get there, 'cause some guy pushing a fruit cart crosses in front of 'em."\n\nFlash. "False."\n\n"Yeah, it was a cart with fish. So that guy--"\n\nFlash. "No, false."\n\n"The guy was carrying a couple buckets of fish. So then--"\n\nFlash. "You're still lying!"\n\n"All right, all right! It was a tall, dark-haired gal. You happy?"\n\n"Hah, this isn't about me. Are //you// happy?"\n\nHe runs his hand through his prematurely thinning hair. "Yep, that would have to be a pretty [[lucky streak|Lucky man]] of guessing."
The trees in this area boast an especially large girth, and are particularly coarse to the touch even through rugged leather gloves. //Ah, the Guardians. This was the spot.//\n\nThe shredded, charred corpse of the latest victim--the herbalist's apprentice from Ithane's Crossing--was found here the other day, the adolescent girl's scarcely recognizable remains scattered at the feet of the forest's oldest growth.\n\nOn this afternoon, at this location, the swirling breezes carry the slightest hint of an all-too-familiar odor--of blood and sundered flesh, of an unquenchable fire.\n\n//Now to follow that trail.// Beyond the Guardian trees, the ground slopes downward, the grade becoming steeper after a few shuffling paces.\n\n//Damn it! Almost slipped. Idiot.//\n\nThe unmistakable odor is a touch stronger at the foot of the slope, but the shifting winds make its source [[difficult to detect|Your guide]].
"Though it hurts to say so, you are correct: This isn't a fair situation. What say we just end this and return His Lordship's property, where it belongs, together?" <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nSkeptical, the boy cocks his head. "You're not gonna make me go to the armory, are you? Whoever the guard is today, he'll rip me apart."\n\n"No, I believe my, er, friend is on duty there today."\n\nA mischievous smirk crosses the boy's face. "Oh, //him//." After evaluating his options for a second, the stable master's son nudges the sword over, just barely touching his finger to the hilt to do so. "You'd better carry it, though."\n\n"Thank you." //I've never held a magic weapon before. It's light.// "Let's go, shall we?"\n\nAt the armory door stands the youngest of the manor's guards, tall and dashing. "Oh, rosebud, what a pleasant surprise to see your pretty face," he says, delighted.\n\n//I hope he doesn't notice I'm blushing...// "Um, hello. I'm afraid we're not here for a chat."\n\n"'We'?" He then notices the boy, lingering several paces behind. "Ah, and...now I see that you're [[carrying a sword|Tucked away]]. What is going on here?"
"The ability to think quickly is an admirable skill," the guard says, strolling ahead of the cart a few paces as the road narrows and bends. "I assume it applies to many aspects of your life, and not just to fighting?"\n\n<<display "Beside the point">>
A second paralytic bolt strikes just as solidly. The chief halts in its tracks, though it does not collapse. //A third shot should knock it down.//\n\nSuddenly, however, the fire fiend roars, louder than a chief ever has, loud enough to make the ears ring. In answer, an odd, disquieting sound--not unlike a clap of thunder, but deeper, felt more than heard--splits the air. And even though the world remains a cloudy, smoky blur, it is possible to detect a distortion, a wrongness in the fabric of reality, rippling into existence a moderate distance away--and a hulking shadow emerging from that distortion.\n\n//Have to stop it!// With a squeeze of the enchanted crossbow's trigger, the loaded bolt launches toward the newly arriving fire fiend. The beast howls, and the distortion seems to flicker. Another bolt soars, and hits. The fiend bellows in fury--and the distortion wavers, warps, and [[blinks away|End of you]].
"Oh, thank you, honorable governor. That is most gratifying to hear." Uncle stands straight, his head held high.\n\n"It is so good, in fact, that I desire a second helping before dessert. Start on that, won't you?" Without waiting for an answer, the governor turns around and walks back to the dining hall, calling to the lord and lady of the manor. "And while I'm waiting for that, I should like to return to the armory and see that curious short sword again. That's quite a tale about how it came into this house's possession..."\n\n//Goodness above...// "Uncle--"\n\nThe cook remains standing at the grill, dumbfounded. "No, no, we can't," he stammers. "I can't do this without--"\n\n"You must!" There is no time even to wrap the sword in the cloth.\n\nFortunately, the back way to the armory is quicker than the front way, and the amiable guard is all too happy to allow the sword to be [[returned once more|Last meal]].
In this cramped room, the rectangular wooden table is the sole attraction. It barely shifts or wobbles when nudged even with both hands. All around it, however, are gouges, shallow and deep, plus spots of discoloration, large and small, dark and light. <<set $minipottery = true>>\n\n//Anything on the floor in here? Ah, down near one of the table legs! Bah--not for me, regrettably.// "Here: This looks like a shard of pottery."\n\nHe accepts the curved shard eagerly. Holding it by its edges in his left hand, he uses his right to summon the orb closer. "Wonderful, intricate lines. A fine glaze. Beautiful." He moves to tuck the shard away, grabbing its interior surface in the process, and he jumps a little. "Magical residue!" he says, gazing at the piece of hardened clay once more. "I can sense it!" Stowing the shard, he renews his inspection of the tabletop, and tentatively he touches a discolored area. A subtle flash appears at the point of contact, promptly fading afterward. "This might have been an experiment table," he concludes with a grin.\n\n"Potions? That's what caused the stains? Is it harmful?"\n\n"No, no, it shouldn't be. The flash was just a reaction, because I'm magically inclined." He says this last part hesitantly.\n\n//Hmph--you don't have to be sorry that I am not as gifted as you are.// "Well, if that is all--and I do not see anything else aside from overgrowth, dust, cobwebs, and pebbles--let us [[move forward|Hallway of fun]], through that door ahead. We can take care of the chamber we skipped on the way back."
//I'm glad the back way to the armory is not too far. The hallway seems clear.//\n\nAt the armory door stands the youngest of the manor's guards, tall and dashing. "There you are, rosebud," he says, delighted.\n\n//Oh! Am I blushing? Feels like it. I hope not...// "Good morning! Um...here it is. Thank you for being here to let me in."\n\n"Any opportunity to see your pretty face, I'll take," he says with a wink, grabbing the keys from his belt. "And though I wasn't on duty here when that boy crept in, there's no way I'll let word of it get out. If the lord loses trust in any guard, it affects all of us."\n\nThe air in the armory is cool and dry. On racks and stands along the walls sit blades of assorted lengths, as well as shields, spears, pieces of armor, and other gear. While the items in the back are for everyday use, several in the front appear to be part of the lord's personal collection. It is here where a low rack sits conspicuously empty. Repositioned in the rack, the strange sword looks [[a bit plain|Not so special]] among all the fancy ones.
The pale green light flashes again. //There, that's it!//\n\n"Hah, by the gods, it's like you had two women! Good job!"\n\n"Yeah, well... In for 15." Clink. //So where is it coming from?//\n\n<<display "Next hand">>
//Gods, help us! What is this?!// As the distortion continues to writhe, it produces a low, menacing hum, and the ground vibrates. On the other side of the warp, the Lecturer is still barely visible in the dark hallway; he seems to be shouting something while clutching his temples in agony.\n\nThen, as quickly as it appeared, the distortion vanishes, the hum and vibration ending along with it. Immediately, however, comes the sound of grinding and crumbling, and the sickening sensation of the floor shifting and buckling underfoot--\n\n"Ahhhhh!"\n\nThe drop to the underground chamber is brief, fortunately, but the aches and bruises will likely linger awhile.\n\nAbove, the Lecturer's face pops into view. "Lore Mistress! Are you gravely injured?!"\n\n"Augh--nothing worse than a sprain of my right ankle, I believe."\n\n"Oh, thank the gods. Have you a way out of that room?"\n\n"Yes, right in front of me. But it's terribly dark."\n\n"Here--" He waves his hand, and the glowing orb floats down. "I will return to the prayer hall. The orb will home in on me. Follow it to the [[stairs and trapdoor|Blow this joint]]."
"Downstairs, Lecturer. Let us see what this place truly holds."\n\n"What about the other surface rooms? Er, all right. Hold on, let me increase the light."\n\nIn the room immediately below, the clammy, earthy, moist air makes the skin crawl, and the dark stone walls seem to be perpetually closing in. Here, again, any furnishings that may have stood are now mere piles of refuse. The Lecturer's orb, glowing more brightly following a muttered supplemental spell, reveals a few flat stone objects in one corner.\n\n"There, Lore Mistress, tablets! What say you?"\n\n//Ah! Let us see.// "Bah! Broken. Small pieces I can hardly read. Delvers probably took one look, bemoaned the lack of gold plating, and dashed them to the ground."\n\n"Well, if it weren't for delvers risking their lives in some of the more dangerous ruins, the Academy would have nothing at all to study."\n\n//Please...// "They steal history, and hold it for ransom! They don't care who pays! It's because of them that mankind [[knows nearly nothing|Clueless]] of the First Days, of our past!"
''At the far corner table in the noisy, stuffy, humid back room of Pell's Tavern, in Elyston's warehouse district, at half past midnight...''\n\n"So I said to him, 'Hey, if you wanted me to be your maid and clean up after you, shoulda just asked me!' Hah!"\n\n"You're stalling. Throw down your damn cards."\n\n"All right, all right. Hmph--you win again."\n\n"Naturally." Though the night is young, the coins are already piling up.\n\n"Why are you always in such a hurry, anyway? I got a lot of war stories this time."\n\n//The faster we play, the faster I wipe you out.// "War stories, eh?" The cards are shuffled three times, then dealt. "I put in 10."\n\n"Um...10. Yeah, sounds better than 'bumming around the countryside doing odd jobs and breaking necks for money' stories."\n\n[["You got a point."|And what have you done]]\n
Stomping sounds are audible nearby. //There, a chief. Only one, as I expected. And something is wrong with it.// <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nTwo stomps slow, three stomps fast. Three stomps slow, four stomps fast. One stomp slow, two stomps fast.\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Zavw. Aopz vul avvr lflz.<<becomes>>Stop. This one took eyes.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//This is the fiend I confronted before? I know I injured it even after it blinded me. Its pacing sounds as if it never healed all this time. And it's by itself!//\n\n<<hoverreplace>>Kv uva mpnoa.<<becomes>>Do not fight.<<endhoverreplace>>\n\n//You truly are mad, blade. I cannot miss this opportunity!//\n\nOne paralytic bolt flies, then a second, and a third. The chief bellows--at least two of the bolts seem to have hit. The time to [[rush in|Only fools]], sword drawn, is now.
The tension is palpable throughout Castle Elyspire. The shock of Queen Marya's passing still lingers, and the reports coming from throughout the kingdom have everyone on edge. Fiends of all kinds--those mysterious, mystical, horrific creatures unlike any beasts of this world--are appearing more often, ever closer to settlements and towns. And then there are the distortions, which phase in with no warning--twisting space and reality--and vanish just as rapidly.\n\nAnd as you heard yourself during conferences in the court yesterday, this kingdom is far from the only one suffering.\n\nWalking along the ramparts, you hear the guards muttering, comparing the stories they've heard and speculating about the events to come. They are alert and ready, as always, but their voices falter just the slightest bit.\n\nAt last, you come to the far northwest corner of the ramparts, and you find the person you were looking for. She is leaning on the wall, her gaze directed out toward the horizon. Though the winds are strong this morning, they seem not to perturb her. By her side is her spear, propped against the stonework.\n\n"[[Your Highness|Lost in thought]]," you say respectfully. "There you are."
Freedom, however, is a twist and a wriggle away. "It was nice knowing you, priestess."\n\nThe next few seconds consist of a dash through the door, around the plaza and its listless and vacant-eyed occupants, and behind the storehouse, to the uneven portion of the wall, its handholds and footholds beckoning. Up and over--and beyond the wall, the hilly wilderness awaits.\n\n"I think we're far enough away now," the high acolyte exhales after a couple of frantic minutes. "I don't feel her in my head anymore."\n\n"Yes, we can stop running. The pace must still be swift, though the air is humid and windless tonight. Can you handle it, beautiful?"\n\n"I can, thank you. Um, I am sorry that you could not leave with the relics too."\n\n"Well, my clients won't be happy, but at least I'll have the sword for them."\n\n"At any rate, as I mentioned," she says with a shy glance, "if you could accompany me just to the nearest town, I would be most grateful."\n\n//The moonlight becomes her.// "Actually, I think I'll take you to my clients. They--and their temple--are just [[what you're looking for|Noble begins]]. And they would be quite interested in what you have to say."
Free of the parcel and resting upon the table's embroidered purple cloth, the blade seems perfectly forged at first glance (as it should be, considering the smithy's fee). Neither a dagger nor a long sword, it is just the right length. The steel, polished to a high sheen, gleams in the candlelight. <<set $bless = 0>><<set $curse = 0>>\n* [["Remove the cooking pot from the fire, lad. And don't spill it this time!"|Do not spill]]\n* [["I hear the cooking pot bubbling over, lad."|Neat removal]]\n
She finishes her wine, giggling. "Other temples would have you say so. Here, we pursue both peace and passion."\n\n<<display "Deeper knowledge">>
//I can't stay cowering here...I got him into this trouble, and I have to get him out of it!// <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nEmerging from the shrubbery and scrambling to the crates takes but a couple of seconds. Oddly, the moment the strange blade is in hand, all of the bruises and aches from the tumble off the junk cart seem to subside somewhat.\n\nThe bandit slowly approaches the suffering guard, his poison-laced dagger glinting in his left hand, his eyes locked on the injured young man.\n\n//Have to stop him. Have to do this--now!// \n\nThough the awkward result is neither a bold swing nor a hearty stab, the strange sword strikes nevertheless, and the bandit reels from the shock, fumbling his dagger. \n\nAs the brigand turns to look upon his attacker, he laughs in disbelief to see the meek junk dealer he had almost snuffed out just minutes ago. He raises his sword in his right hand--and halts, frozen in place.\n\nFrozen, that is, by the massive sword that has just [[run him through|End this nonsense]].
"Honorable governor," Uncle mumbles, barely keeping his composure, "I apologize--"\n\n"You will apologize for nothing," the governor declares. "My own cook pretends that meal preparation is a delicate art form to be appreciated in tiny, hardly perceptible bites. You, on the other hand, know how to make a meal--simple, hearty, and lots of it. In fact, I desire a second helping of steak, so get started on that, won't you?"\n\nFlustered, the lady tries to intervene. "Honorable sir, I protest. He is not welcome--"\n\nThe governor regards her coolly. "I am terminating my 'cook' the moment I return home. This real cook, and his assistant, are my staff now, so they will do my bidding. They will join me when I depart this evening." Turning, he promptly calls to the lord of the manor. "Back to the armory, my friend. Tell me again how you acquired that curious sword. And I am considering [[taking it with me|Ruins begins]], if you will allow; I know some mages who might be skilled enough to properly identify it and study it..."
Although the horse obeys and the cart edges forward for a few precious seconds, the overburdened larger wagons in front prevent much progress. Soon the guard ambles by again, and though he is focusing on the tree-lined, shady road ahead, he is smirking.\n\n<<display "Little worth">>
"Yes, I found him quickly enough."\n\n"I see. All is well, then." The cook rises and takes the blade, after which he pulls out the cloth from behind the grill and begins to wrap the sword.\n\n"Um, Uncle, are there no more desserts?" The side table is completely empty.\n\n"Of course not. They were served to the ladies while you were gone. I'd made only enough. I have to tell you, I was worried about keeping the cups on the regular ice, but I think they survived all right, and--"\n\n"Oh dear. I must admit: I promised the boy a parfait in trade for the sword."\n\n"You did?" he sighs. "It couldn't be helped, I suppose. That boy is such a handful." He glances toward the bowls still sitting on the ice. "I have enough ingredients left to make him a small one." With that, he promptly unwraps the sword again.\n\n"Must you [[use the sword|Slashed]] on it, Uncle? This is just for the boy, after all."
"No, Uncle, you can't! The governor will want to see the armory during his tour, and the lord might notice this blade is missing. We have to put it back!"\n\n"Oh dear." The cook starts to fidget with his soup spoon. "No, no, we need to use its powers, to please the lady. You saw her--she was delighted, was she not?"\n\n"Yes, but you can't keep His Lordship's property, let alone a magic weapon."\n\nHe lowers his soup spoon, his appetite gone. "I can't do it without the sword's help."\n\n"Of course you can. Even if she does find fault with the meal, she wouldn't dare say anything inflammatory in the governor's presence. Uncle, please--"\n\nHe grows quiet as he stares at the back corner of the grill, where the cloth-wrapped blade hides. "You are correct. I must go back to my own, ordinary way of cooking. But will you please allow this old man to keep this little blessing of the gods a bit longer?"\n\n//Goodness...he looks so drained.// "Certainly. We will put it back when [[the day comes|State visit]]."
After some time, a gentle voice speaks at the open door to the dining hall. "Hello?" It is the recently wed lady of the Corregars River, smiling brightly as always.\n\n"Ah! Young mistress! It's so good to see you!"\n\n"I am pleased to see you, dear maid. Are you well? And you, kind cook?"\n\n"Certainly, my lady. We are honored that you would come by."\n\n"Young mistress, how is married life?"\n\n"Lovely, thank you. I am quite fond of my lord, and our manor feels like home now that I've put my touches on it. But I will always be glad to visit Nivean Pass." She looks back at the cook. "And I just had to come tell you how much everyone is enjoying those delicate toasted sandwiches and the fresh seafood salad. But to be honest, I would adore a large bowl of one of your hearty soups right about now."\n\n"Ah, you flatter me, my lady." Uncle seems embarrassed by the compliment.\n\n"Well, I must get back before Mother wonders where I've run off to." She reluctantly turns to rejoin the luncheon. "Perhaps we shall speak again before the day is through." The young lady waves as she makes her way [[back to her seat|Home and heart]].
Getting up causes the throbbing pain in the ankle to intensify, but the orb's soothing light quiets the nerves. //Eh? What's that? The chime, I think...// Stopping to listen proves unfruitful--all is silent save for the rattle of pebbles and dirt clumps tumbling from the fresh hole above. //Oh, forget it--I've had enough of that troublesome thing.//\n\nTraversing the underground hallway and chambers, past piles of stone rubble and even more wooden debris, is slow going, but not as bad as it could have been, thanks to the guidance of the orb and the support of the staff, which survived the short plunge unharmed. At last, the stairs come into view, and on them stands the Lecturer, his expression one of genuine relief.\n\n"Please, allow me," he says, and after an uttered spell and a simple gesture, he bends down and hovers his lightly glowing hand near the afflicted ankle, easing the pain. "We'll have to get you to a proper healer, of course."\n\nOnce outside, it is a certain comfort to breathe in the fresh air. The Lecturer makes a quick external inspection of the ruins. "I see no outer sign of that bizarre distortion having affected anything. It seems to have come and gone [[without a trace|Gone for now]]."
//Dusk will soon be upon us. But this situation is too unusual. A few cautious steps forward will suffice.// <<set $bless = $bless + 4>>\n\nThe scout ahead pauses its aimless wandering, and with a grunt it seems to take notice. Three paces slow, three paces fast.\n\n//That's it--come along this way. Crossbow at the ready. There!//\n\nA couple of bolts soar. Both strike--so swiftly that the fiend has no chance to ignite its aura--and the slender beast is promptly immobile on the ground. A swing of the strange sword severs its head. //Quick and clean.//\n\nFour stomps slow, two stomps fast. Three stomps slow, two stomps fast. //The chief is coming to investigate.//\n\nThe huge, blurry shadow lumbers a few steps closer. //Fire!// With a satisfying thunk, the first bolt hits, and [[the chief howls|Stop it early]].
//Augh--so uncontrollable, that boy.// "Clean and dry, Uncle."\n\n"Thank you, child," he replies as he grabs a slender cloth-wrapped bundle from behind the grill. At the table, he removes the cloth, revealing a gleaming short sword.\n\n"Goodness, Uncle! What are you doing with a weapon?"\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\nHe scoops a chunk of potato out of his bowl and places it on a napkin. "Watch." He grasps the sword and pauses. In the next moment, the blade, glowing a pale blue-green, produces a frosty aura. He hovers it over the piece of potato for but a second. "There. Try touching it."\n<<else>>\nHe scoops a chunk of potato out of his bowl and places it on a napkin. "Watch." He grasps the sword and pauses. In the next moment, the blade, glowing a pale yellow-green, produces a frosty aura. He hovers it over the piece of potato for but a second. "There. Try touching it."\n<<endif>>\nThe piece of potato is chilled and firm, ready for a salad. "Incredible."\n\n"The blade gets colder than normal ice," he says proudly. "It can also get hotter than the grill. But I can set the temperature anywhere, with a thought."\n\n"How did you acquire it? His Lordship would [[never approve|Kitchen gadget]]."
//If I try to crawl back out there, I'll only get myself killed! What's the point?// <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nThe shrubs seem to close in, as if to comfort and console.\n\n//I can't watch! Gods, please, get us out of this nightmare! Please help that poor man!//\n\nIn the darkness, squatting hidden among the bushes, it is difficult to tell what is happening out on the road, as the young guard's screams are no longer distinguishable from the [[shouts|No thanks]] all along the beset caravan.
''On the finely woven rugs of the priestess's chambers in the Temple of Conventus, cradled in the hills in the remote northwest corner of the kingdom, on a warm, sultry evening...''\n\n"You have a slight accent," she says, her eyes sparkling. "A local man you are not. Southeastern, I would wager."\n\n"Is it that obvious, priestess?"\n\nShe laughs lightly, gently. "I find it intriguing. Your voice is as fascinating as your handsome face." She reclines against her silken pillows, her gaze steady. "You have journeyed far to visit our community. I am pleased that new companions might come from distant lands."\n\n//Very direct. She's a nice change of pace from lonely noblewomen and naive chambermaids.// "Companions?"\n\nHer red lips curl into a mysterious smile. "Did you not hear me use the term often during today's prayer?" As she tilts her head, her long, lustrous hair grazes her slender shoulders. "The other temples have followers, sheep who must be herded. Conventus is [[The Deity of Unity|We are one]]. All live as one here."
//Please...// "They steal history, and hold it for ransom! They don't care who pays! It's because of them that mankind knows nearly nothing of the First Days, of our past!"\n\n"Calm yourself. I understand, truly," he murmurs, lowering his bag. "Shall I carry it?"\n\n//Are you going to pat me on the head next? Augh...// "Fine." The intact third of the tablet bears the same ornate, flowing script that has adorned the other tablets, scrolls, and parchments recovered from ruins located elsewhere around the kingdom. "I doubt that this partial specimen will help much, though."\n\n"I've not been able to grasp translation," he notes as he hoists up the sack. "I admire your work on such things."\n\n//I doubt you mean that, pride of the Academy. We barely ever have contact in the halls.// "Others deserve the credit for the breakthroughs years ago. I merely try to carry on their efforts. The letterforms of this script are difficult to differentiate, so the danger of misinterpretation is high. But when we do see a pattern, it produces a grammar very much like our own, and similar words. Once we surmount that first hurdle on a piece, deriving meaning is less challenging, though we still end up with [[a lot of blanks|A hole in the head]]."
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A single arrow shoots out from between the trees, striking the caravan's lead wagon and startling driver and horses alike. Bandits spring from the bushes on either side of the road, and the valley echoes with the clamor of battle.\n\nThe junk cart's horse panics and attempts to bolt away, but trips and crumples in a heap amidst the chaos. The world spins violently as the small cart flips on its side.\n\n//Augh--that hurts! No time--can't lie here in the road!//\n\nNearby sits the overturned junk cart and its crates, their contents spilled onto the ground. A number of paces away, the shadows among the trees and shrubs beckon.\n<<if $bless gt $curse>>\n//Have to stay low, and get out of sight now!//\n* [[Duck into the space between the cart and the crates.|Crates]]\n* [[Dash toward the trees and hide behind the bushes.|Bushes]]\n<<else>>\n//Have to run, and get far away from this madness!//\n* [[Duck into the space between the cart and the crates.|Crates]]\n* [[Dash toward the trees and hide behind the bushes.|Bushes]]\n<<endif>>
//He yanked it out and wiped it clean?// "No! No, I don't want it!"\n\n"You need to gather your goods, do you not? And we must see to your horse, too. The caravan must get rolling again soon if we intend to reach Elyston by nightfall."\n\n"How can you be so matter-of-fact after this?"\n\n"Good sir, it is precisely because this blade saved my life--because you saved my life--that I suddenly feel that I can take satisfaction in the little things, and move on." The guard extends his hand as he stands up. "Thank you."\n\n"Er--well, you're welcome. Augh, don't pull me up so quickly. I got some bad bruises when I was tossed from the cart. I'd almost forgotten. I didn't even feel any pain when I...when I..." //The blade...is it glowing more than it used to?//\n\n"You'll be all right, old man. And here, make sure you take this blade and get it identified as you planned. It's [[a real find|Hunter begins]]."
The cook stands as close to the door as possible without being seen, his eyes cast at the floor as he attempts to listen in on the nobles' conversation.\n\n"Uncle, can you hear what they're saying?"\n\n"Only snippets," he whispers back. "His Lordship is getting down to business. Political matters. It's all over my head." He says nothing for quite some time. At last, he inhales sharply. "Oh, gods."\n\n//No...// "What? Did she say something? In the governor's presence?"\n\nHe nods weakly. "But the governor seemed to ignore her." He frowns. "The governor has already finished his plate. And now he is asking the lord to take him back to the armory, such that he may see the collection again." With another gasp, Uncle bolts upright and hurries to the grill. "Quick, child, occupy yourself!\n\nMoments later, the lady of Nivean Pass [[appears at the kitchen door|Dressing down]].
Thanks to its larger open windows, the adjoining room boasts a fresh breeze, as well as a generous helping of sunlight. "It almost feels like some of our study nooks back at the Academy," the Lecturer remarks as he glances about the room. "I can just picture our ancestors in here, learning, teaching, casting, praying. It must have been exhilarating."\n\n//Piles of debris lie everywhere in this room, as before.// "But there are no intact furnishings. This can't be just from the ravages of time."\n\nHe points excitedly toward the far corner. "There, that might be a tablet!"\n\n"Really? I must see!" Sure enough, in the corner is a tablet. Unfortunately, though one-third of it remains dark gray and fairly smooth to the touch aside from its carved lettering, the rest of the surface has broken away, leaving only the coarse layer beneath. "I won't be able to get much from this." On the stone floor are strewn small dark gray bits and shards. "Cursed delvers. They probably took one glance, lamented the absence of inset jewels, and tossed it to the ground."\n\n"I don't know," he muses. "I'd give them more credit than that. If it weren't for delvers risking their lives in some of the more dangerous ruins, the Academy would have [[nothing at all|Better than nothing]] to study."
"I appreciate that, master." The apprentice scoops up the last of his stew eagerly. "I cannot wait to see you in action. This ancient ritual truly will be a wonder to behold."<<set $bless = $bless + 1>>\n\n"It is a mystery worth solving, lad. We shall see what our forefathers saw. I expect you to learn a great deal tonight."\n\n<<display "Cleanup prepare">>
config.disableHistoryControls = true;\n\nconfig.errorName = "story";
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"This will take but a few moments, Lecturer. You do not have to accompany me. Watch over me if you feel the need, I care not." <<set $curse = $curse + 4>>\n\nUnable to come up with a convincing rebuttal, he stays in place and clucks his tongue before flicking his hand to direct the orb to illuminate the remainder of the passage.\n\n//So his feathers can be ruffled after all. I'll have to remember that. Now to edge past this hole--yes, the floor is solid. But my legs are shaking. I have to get ahold of myself!//\n\nAt the end of the hallway, the light of the orb extends only a fraction into what seems like a large round chamber. //What could this space have been used for? Ah--wait! The chime--it stopped!//\n\nHurrying a few steps into the hallway fails to prompt the chime to return. //No--is it taunting me? Did I really hear it? Perhaps back in the chamber--//\n\nUp the hall, the Lecturer calls out, his voice tinged with worry. "Perhaps that is enough."\n\n"No, I can't leave just yet. I--"\n\nIt comes from nowhere: A boom, not unlike a clap of thunder but felt deep in the bones more than heard. And suddenly, before one's eyes, the hallway seems to warp and distort, as if space itself were [[bending and wavering|Warp out]].