You click your tongue, and clasp your hands behind your back, temporarily forsaking the hunched posture you had adopted to lift up your head and breath deeply the corroded air thick with industrial pollutants and the faint whispers of burning ozone.
"Old stories are true" You explains somberly as you readjust and return to hunching as is the natural stance of the Alf-Harim "Humanity is real; Returned"
"Hoomahnaty?" The alf harim blinks slowly, forked tongue flicking out of their lips, parting the tongues of smoke rising from their last pull of their smoking leaf "Must hear, old, ancient stories in big clan house, yes yes? What is?"
You smile and bow your head in their direction, and whisper nearly conspiratorially
"Alien race, ancient, far flung, much scattered" you explain swiftly, flicking a single finger's illusionary claw in front of his snout as his eyes trace it with all the instinctive caution of a prey animal "Some good, others not. Mothers met good humans, humans heard plight, heard wish to return to warm sands"
"Selling habitat? trading electrical banks? Move work to mine world?" They ask rapidly, scratching at their snout, flacking away blue chips of pigment from their scales as they press you for answers. You hold up a hand and the tail of your guise, stopping him before he can present you with more wild theories and guesses
"Listen. Human spoke to matriarchs, snuck in, careful careful. Saw him. Gave me this" You say, pulling a extra copy of the translated journey from within the thread bear and oil stained robes of your alf-harim disguise and hold it up to the querying eyes of the smoker
"What is?" They ask impatiently, as their hands shoot out and take the book as you make it clear you're offering it to them "Doesn't explain what is happening"
"Might have something to do with that heavy book" You suggest with a whip crack of your tail, a gesture thought of as roguish to the Alf-Harim "Saw them, mighty, powerful, tricky?"
"Slave taken?" They ask and you snap your teeth and hiss through them
"No. Tricky, friendly, hopefully" You continue as they pull the book closer to their chest and flip open the first page of the journey, revealing intricate and detailed drawings of alf-harim beside the text, performing gestures and displaying stances to present what would other wise be lost in translation, an effort that is helped by the scents you incorporated into the very ink staining the parchment, mimicking the Alf-Harim's partially scent based language
"Then?" They ask as their eyes greedily devour the text before them, flicking back and forth as they gather all of the words before them and frantically work to piece them together as quickly as their physiology allows Cont
A world where might makes right. A world of Jade and Gold, of Phoenix and Dragons, of Pills and Talismans, of Martial and Spiritual arts. A world where diligent training yield strength, meaning freedom. A world where loneliness means death, meaning social chains. A world still unfair, as the ones reaching the heavens are most likely born rich - be it political riches of the aristocrats, power of secret knowledges and hidden realms of clans, or lucky enough to be born one-in-a-thousand genius.
This was not the case of Quiet Word - that is, (You). Your current skill level - half a step above other genius of your age? Lucky encounters leveraged to the best and a knack for navigating social situations. You own a trove of technic for such a young cultivator - more than you can study efficiently, but your strength lies in the impressive amount of Bonded Spiritual Beasts - A Phoenix spirit, a Horse spirit, a Snake spirit and a Wolf spirit. Speaking of that last one, you didn't told a world about him to anybody. As a scion of the Primordial Wolf spirit, its father warned you of its worth and how people could want to rip it away from you. Especially in such a ruthless and public environment than, say, a nationwide cultivator tournament. Previously mentionned worth comes from its ability to Fuse without restriction - fusion being a secret of the higher ranking of your sect, secret you have almost completely rediscovered on your own. Alright, the Primordial Wolf might have helped you on that point.
Recently, you and your Stable Lotus Harbor friend partook in a capital city tournament organized by the Empress. This required ample amount of training : all of you broke through 2nd stage before 8, the mark of genius-talent. You had to took strategical decision, and are pretty confident you could hardly have done better. Your fights seems to entrance a bored-to-death audience, giving you the new moniker of "Heartpiercer" - and a theme song https://suno.com/song/18f62c64-7ac6-402f-b6f2-30158f9a51dd You were even granted the privilege of bowing at the feets of the 15-year-old 4th-stage young Empress - which you gifted a mystical karmic thread. Now, you're checking on one frenemy and two of the foe that share a trait : all were deeply wounded and you bear some responsibility in the matter.
In the capital, the Holy City, in the grandest square of the heart of the city where statues of long dead emperors stood watch over the streets that converged here, the people of the nation flocked to see what many had whispered would be their hero. To listen, perhaps not even, to merely behold. People were still struggling to squeeze their way forth, though the man of the hour had already risen atop a grand platform.
The man who stood at the podium was no noble, no representative of the throne, but the people of the city gathered as though they had been summoned nevertheless. A swarthy, dark Sea Vitelian, so broad and tall he looked like a triumphal monument rather than a normal man, stood tall before leaning over the lectern, a microphone able to carry his voice to all, where in old times the crowd might lose the words over the vastness of the throng.
This man was Giovanno Leone, a veteran of the war against the Grossreich, a famous warrior who had won hundreds of battles fighting alongside the elite Arditi in the frontline without suffering any disfiguring wounds, a man of uniform and no shortage of medals. Instead of wearing such, however, he wore the colors and cloth of a common city fellow and no constables were close to protect him, rather, kept out at the edges where they nervously waited for a riot from this provocateur. More than a few in the high places of power had clamored for his arrest, but on top of being so physically imposing that few policemen dared to confront him with the threat of capture, others had shielded his ascent, seeing a rising star that they might use the light of for their own ambitions.
Leone was aware of both of them, and intended to satisfy neither. As far as he was concerned, the Kingdom of Vitelia would not endure beyond its final monarch, and what was born afterwards would finally surpass the First Empire, as it had yearned to do since that glorious time had come to a calamitous end.
The audience was vast enough that silence was impossible to call for. That didn’t bother Leone. He knew that, once he spoke, all would quiet themselves. No one else had come here to be heard, not in these times. <span class="mu-i">I am here, friends. Bonetto. Cesare. Too many others to mention. I am here because of you.</span>
The child stumbles up the worn cracked steps. She drops one - then two - small pieces of hardened flax-bread into your offering bowl, ringing it like a gentle bell.
"I'm lost..." she whispers, balling her fists in a semblance of prayer. "...please...please..."
You wish to tell her that you control naught but the soft noonday breeze and the flow of dew upon bladed grass. You wish to tell her that you are a god of nothing.
But your voice vanishes between the tall, rustling trees. It has been a very long time since you last heard a prayer.
Quest’s Summary: You play as Pangea, the daughter of The Emperor created to be an emotional support for the primarchs after Malcador convinced the Emperor that the primarchs, while powerful, are ultimately human. Pangea would act as a way to secure the primarch’s loyalty to The Emperor by having the primarchs relying on Pangea as their emotional support… if Pangea remains loyal that is.
As the sons of The Emperor return to the fold, Pangea created a bond with Alpharius, Horus, Fulgrim, Sanguinius and Angron. She still sees the future of Horus and her brothers’ betrayal but knows in her heart this is just one future, one that can be avoided. After bringing peace to Verona, she faces The Hermit, and eventually learns of Chaos.
With that knowledge, she is under Malcador’s tutelage once more to become the first inquisitor, to protect the budding Imperium and her Father’s dream.
People roamed the markets. Laborers carried crates of goods fresh off the ships. Merchants and customers haggled. Children held their mother’s hand as their eyes wandered from vendor to vendor. And the Princess stalked through the crowd, her gaze focused on a man with shaggy stubble and unkempt hair dressed in a tattered jumpsuit. She tapped into the man’s thought with ease, like entering an unguarded fortress.
<span class="mu-i">They’ll pay for what they did to House Capulet, this will be my vengeance!</span>
Pangea gently pushed through the crowd as she followed the man. She clicked her tongue twice, then paused, then clicked her tongue again. Luna broke from her side and skulked into the alleyway. Pangea parted the crowd quicker, using her psykic power to compel the people to move away.
<span class="mu-i">Verona, oh my beautiful homeland… I’ll take many as I can with me!</span>
Pangea stalked through the market in a hooded robe. The man approached the Albian Crusaders closer. Pangea tasted the man’s rage and disgust. In lieu of more offensive capabilities, she sharpened the subtler psykic powers. The Albian Crusaders continued to be vigilant about the goings on in the market, but were still unaware of one single man amongst the many.
<span class="mu-i">This is for the Capulets and the Great Hermit!</span>
Pangea…
>Waited for the attack. The man pulled his pistol and grenades, but no destruction followed. Instead, the man’s limb froze up. Pangea held the man with her telekinesis. The man screamed in pain, loud enough to grab the attention of the Albian Crusaders and her presence. >With her divination, she moved in before the man could act. Pangea jumped past the crowds and landed right in front of the man as he pulled two grenades. With a single twirl of Palatine, the grenade and the man’s hand dropped on the ground. >Write-in
The dark halls of the facility were illuminated by a small pocket torch, it scanning the floor for debris whilst avoiding the darker parts further ahead. Aden made sure not to alert his presence too much, just using the torch he had found to get an idea of his surroundings. The lack of night vision made traversing the ruins rather tough, but he kept hopes up. "I think we're getting close to that office space. I just hope the directions those scientists gave aren't wrong." He'd say softly, as his draconic friend nodded along quietly. "Well, we don't have too many places to go, right?" Toyotama said more quietly, to which Aden scoffed in amusement. "Well, we could skip the elevator, and just try our luck with the green section. Then again, last thing I heard of it, some insane rabbit subject got killed there and it's now being swarmed by people."
Aden and Toyotama had set out a plan for themselves, yet were not all that well prepared for the future. Aden just had a small pistol, with nothing else to help out. At least he still had some heavy armour to protect himself with. Though as they headed northwards, they would start taking notice of more and more concerning sights. "I can sense quite a bit of blood ahead. Those offices must've seen plenty of battles." She commented reluctantly, which did pique Aden's interests. Though as they got closer and closer to the offices, they'd start hearing noises coming from behind them. Looking behind them, they saw several shapes moving closer in the darkness behind them. "Shit, shit, shit." Aden mumbled as he looked around for a way out. Once he saw a side-chamber, he'd signal Toyotama to follow. "Quick, in here." He'd rush to the sliding door, trying to open it up yet finding it to be something of a struggle. The sound quickly got closer and closer, Toyotama panicking as well. "A-Aden, Aden! What do we do?! They're coming over to us! I-I don't wanna get in trouble!"
Toyotama tried to speak with a hushed voice, but her panic made it a bit louder. Aden hushed her, before forcing her between himself and the wall. "Stay behind me. Don't show yourself and keep quiet. I'll deal with them." He was clearly anxious, yet tried to keep his cool at this imminent threat. The footsteps got closer and closer, until Aden could see the outlines of five guardsmen with strange cloths covering them. He'd hold out his pistol, and waited for the guards to go into the offense. However, Aden would notice the guards running past him and Toyotama, not even seeming to take notice of the two, despite him showing himself with the torch he had. It left him stunned, as the guardsmen rapidly rushed forward without pause. "A-Aden, w-what are they..." Toyotama mumbled quietly, not even finishing her sentence. Aden stepped forward and looked ahead. "Those were... guardsmen. Facility guardsmen. Were they running from something?" He said, as Toyotama seemed rather confused.
The first thing you notice when you wake up is the smell.
Everything around you reeks of rancid acidity mixed with the musty odor of mold and fungus, like you threw up a really bad, really moldy cheese. The ground? below you is rugged, with random shapes jutting into your sides and back. Once you force your eyes open, against your tired, throbbing brain’s complaints, you see the world suffused in a radioactive green glow. No, wait, the world isn’t glowing.
You are. Your skin, hair, everything is <span class="mu-i">glowing</span>.
Looking down at your clothes, soaked in some odd, sticky fluid, you find yourself in better condition than you expected, albeit more than a little radioactive looking. You sit atop a pile of random junk- dirt, garbage, debris, and busted machinery, some of which is dated and some of which is so sleek and modern (despite the dirt and damage) that it seems out of place. Looking down at a speartip jutting out of the rubble a few inches from where you fell, you breathe a sigh of relief that you managed to avoid being impaled.
“The intake came on time, boss!” You hear a rugged voice ring out from behind you. He seems to be speaking some other, completely unfamiliar language, but you find yourself able to understand it perfectly as if it were in English. Wheeling around, you see a cluster of figures emanating light of different colors gathered in the distance. Your eyes are bleary- you can hardly make out any of the details, “Wait, is that Drop-In alive?”
“I think he is! Looks Terran too. He’s all yours, Mike!”
Terran- that means from Earth, right? What the hell is going on?
You see a gentle purple glow climbing towards you. Thinking fast, you pull the rusted spear that almost made you into a shish kabob out from the pile of detritus you’re sitting on. Managing to yank it out, you wield it to the best of your limited ability.
"One lasting superstition among the people of Hyrule, is the belief that mirrors are portals to another world. According to myth, mirrors, when left in total darkness, show reflections of this other world. A world of dark shapes and shadows, a world wrapped in twilight."
-Excerpt from "Folk Tales and Superstitions of Hyrule
You’re <span class="mu-b">ANTON PEAS:</span> a loose-cannon cop with a hair-trigger temper and a hunger for justice… whatever the cost!
Wait, no… no you’re not–you’re a Grill Jockey at <span class="mu-b">GREASE MONKEY: THE DEEP-FRIED EVERYTHING FAMILY RESTAURANT!</span> Thanks to a demonic ritual gone wrong, you were whisked away to <span class="mu-b">ZORAL:</span> a fantasy realm shrouded in perpetual darkness–the surprise trip leaving you with a plate full of troubles and a head full of holes!
Dazed, confused, and bloodied by the local fauna (and a particularly feisty demoness named <span class="mu-r">Rezalith</span>), you somehow managed to stumble across some friendly locals… or rather they stumbled across <span class="mu-i">you</span>: there’s <span class="mu-b">VOLKA:</span> gentle giantess and Marshall of some kind of militia/neighborhood watch called <span class="mu-b">THE LAMPLIGHTERS, TZAH-TZIE:</span> a spunky bard that kinda latched onto you for inspiration, <span class="mu-b">MOROOK:</span> the stoic ranger and gatherer of alchemical regents, and the ever-grumpy <span class="mu-b">OTI:</span> a moody mage with an interest in your recently-acquired powers…
You heard right! Conveniently manifesting right before becoming a treat for the wildlife, the ability to summon fireballs from your fingertips has helped you out of a few jams… it’s a shame the gift might be demonic in origin!
Needless to say, you’ve been busy! <span class="mu-b">VOLKIR,</span> Volka’s adoptive father and potion seller has promised to assist you in finding a way home–for a price!
<span class="mu-s">20,000 BELLS</span> is his fee, and though you already have several leads on how to acquire said sum, the task is already shaping up to be far more troublesome than it appears. In an attempt to refresh an Innkeeper’s stock of booze, your journey took you to the <span class="mu-b">DOCKS DISTRICT</span>. What began as a simple sidequest has put you through the proverbial ‘wringer’--and might have even put you in the sights of unseen, but surely wicked forces…
Speaking to a shaky sugarseller, THIS is where your story continues…
Beneath the Bloodrise Mountain Range, at the westernmost edge of human habitation, there lies a lake. The same sun that lights the grey stone and green trees red and glad by dawn’s first light casts its colours in a beauteous cacophony upon the rippled surface of that body of water each evening, giving the surrounding city—and the barony which lords over it—the well-known name of <span class="mu-s">Sunset Lake</span>. In recent years, though, a shadow has fallen upon those mountains, and it is a shadow which has finally stretched out to swallow the wealthy fishing village and trading hub below it.
There are monsters in the mountains and, it seems, they also live in Sunset Lake.
A few days ago, a small group of strangers arrived in Sunset lake, drawn by tales of the mysterious monster said to lurk therein. This was not in and of itself unusual, for many parties of adventurers had arrived chasing those stories, the possibility of reward. This particular party, however, was strange because many would view them as numbering among the mountain’s monsters themselves: two goblins, a goat-girl sitting astride the shoulders of a living effigy of bundled branches, and two other creatures who defied such easy categorization.
There was <span class="mu-r">ZIth-Zi</span>, the apparent leader and utterly unplaceable in the taxonomic categories of modern racial philosophy: goblinoid in stature and (when she didn’t hide it) in mannerism, yet pretty and pink, shapely and symmetrical, pleasing to eye and ear and nose, and capable of casting spells… or, well, -A- spell, anyway.
And then there was her ‘sister’, like her shadow: <span class="mu-g">Cara-Zi</span>, or Carazzi, or simply CZ. She was green as a goblin, when one noticed her at all. She had an uncanny ability to elude proper perception, and to slip from close scrutiny. When one set eyes upon her properly, though, her oversized black robes hid much that was twisted and wrong even by the standards of goblinkind: scaly scutes across her skin like mosaic scales or scarification; horns upon her head, stubby affairs jutting up from her temples; hair all over, reddish-brown and rough; feet that almost, but didn’t quite, resemble the goat-girl’s hooves.
The monstrous company joined the hunt for the Monster of Sunset Lake almost as soon as they’d arrived. Zith-Zi seduced and insinuated herself into the festivities of a certain rival company to deduce the true nature of their quarry: an overgrown exemplar of those amphibious, dragon-adjacent creatures called ‘drakes’. Cara-Zi’s occult instinct uncovered unsettling magical contamination in the lake, where the monsters passed.
