On a faraway world, humanity is thriving. Across the surface of this planet, thousands of tribes have been born and strive to become something greater – a true civilisation. They struggle with one another for this privilege, for the opportunity to leave their mark on the world for evermore.
We are following one of these tribes, who call themselves the <span class="mu-s">Protavic</span> – the <span class="mu-i">beast-bringers</span>, in their own tongue.
They belong to the <span class="mu-s">Scavic</span>, a race of people with soft faces, fair hair and blue-grey skin. Like the rest of their kind, they inhabit the <span class="mu-s">Grascan</span>, a vast oceanic forest filled with dangerous beasts and towering trees. The Protavic people have settled by the <span class="mu-s">Croglatol</span>, a great freshwater lake. The forest thins out along its shore, which allows the native tribes to prosper without fear of predation.
Traditional beast-bringers are now in the minority. They are sedentary pastoralists, who rear swine and tend to hives of honey bees along the shore of the Croglatol. They worship <span class="mu-s">An</span>, the Allmother and the source of the divine energy that flows through all living things, <span class="mu-s">Drocrom</span>. They prize intelligence and cunning above all else and though they view their tribe as supreme, they prefer to subjugate other tribes through commerce rather than violence.
The <span class="mu-s">Anamilivic</span>, also known as the <span class="mu-i">children</span>, make up the majority of the tribe. They are the distant descendants of the <span class="mu-s">Vuvovic</span> who were integrated into the Protavic tribe. Though they enjoy an identical lifestyle to traditional beast-bringers, they also practice ritual scarification and the ceremonial drinking of blood. In addition to the Allmother, they worship <span class="mu-s">Il</span>, the Great Father, the son and lover of An. He is the strength to her wisdom.
There are also those Vuvovic who were allowed to serve the Protavic tribe as a warrior caste. These <span class="mu-i">blood-drinkers</span> lead lives free from labour but serve as the tribe's soldiers. They serve as the vanguard during times of war and during times of peace, they catch slaves, guard caravans and protect the tribe's borders. Though most of them are Anamilivic, a small group of blood-drinkers are still diehard Vuvovic traditionalists.
Some of the tribe's eccentricities deserve to be mentioned. Though the majority of the Protavic's sustenance comes from the pigs that they have domesticated, bees and their honey have far more cultural significance. <span class="mu-s">Butol</span> is a sacred form of mead drunk during ceremonies and festivals, while beeswax is used to produce all sorts of artefacts of cultural and religious importance. The beast-bringers' fixation with intelligence has led them to develop many methods of testing their wits, to ensure that only the wisest are allowed to lead their tribe. These include an abstract board game called <span class="mu-s">Blocrum</span> and a complicated written language known as <span class="mu-s">Protadrol</span>, which the Protavic's elite are expected to excel at.
You are Gil Wallace. You are a normal guy made out of beetles and also the shapeshifting substance goo. You are currently aiding and abetting your boss/friend Lottie's scheme to blow up Headspace, a shitty company that makes shitty loci. Or you think you're aiding and abetting? Lottie has gone missing (again), and she's left you no instructions. Thank god you're being haunted by your distant cousin Teddy: without his cool-guy presence, you'd be in a real panic.
Right now, you are face to face with the diving-suited Anthea Aves, a woman you've only encountered before in passing. She claims that Headspace is going to explode. It is, but you have no idea how she knows that.
At least you're beetles, right? Anthea's one eye is looking straight at you— not that there's anything wrong with having only one eye— unless she does have two, and one's obscured by the smoke? You can't tell. You're getting distracted. You were saying: she's looking straight at you, and she can't even tell you're ogling her messed-up face. She can't tell anything. She's talking to a faceless black-eyed wall.
Bonus: when you don't respond right away, it seems ominous, not like you're scrambling desperately for a response. Of course you know Headspace is going to explode: you're going to be doing the exploding. Or Lottie is. Probably Lottie. You'd wonder how this lady knew, except Lottie's also been blithering out the details to everybody she talks to, pretty much. Tell the plan to the bitch who shot you in the head? Sure, fine, whatever. None of your business. Until she sends a diving suit out to flamethrower you to death.
<span class="mu-i">I wouldn't jump to conclusions.</span>
You were joking, Teddy. Okay, half-joking. You know nothing about this Aves lady, except you think she was one of those bleeding-heart spelunkers. Doesn't bode well, in your opinion. Your expert opinion. You with your risk-assessment certificate up on the wall. You can't say you're good at nothing, because you're good at this: sitting and <span class="mu-i">assessing</span> and spinning in circles. You don't seem ominous, do you? You're goddamn beetles. You seem brainless— empty. Look, half of Anthea's face is frowning. "Gil? I'm sorry, I know it's— maybe I should've disclosed it more tactfully. I'm sorry if I scared you. As long as you leave now, I don't think you'll be in danger, so there's really no reason to worry—"
No reason to worry. Ha-ha. If you don't say anything, maybe she'll think you died. You wish you didn't need more information. "Um, thanks. Good to know."
"Of course! I'm just glad I recognized you! I thought... is Charlotte here?"
Goddammit. "Why do you ask? Why are you, uh— sorry, uh— what was that about Headspace exploding? Why i-i-is— why would it be exploding? I-if you know?"
Not your smoothest transition. Anthea doesn't seem to notice. "Oh my goodness! Yes. I'll, ah, keep it brief. Ellery, my friend... do you know him?"
You were him. You're not sure what that counts for. "Some?"
We know that we are all products of social relations, that nobody comes into the world alone, that we are dependent upon a vast network of social relations to meet every one of our material needs; that our bodies are teeming with symbiotes; that our brains are not individual computers isolated behind the rewall of our skulls, but networked galaxies of neurones, dependent all the time upon interaction with the rest of the ecosystems we inhabit for their ability to function at all; that even our dreams are not merely our own.
You can’t help but breathe deeply as you peer out over the city streets. From your perch on the balcony, you’re the pinnacle of picturesque; a lovely, pretty young girl enjoying the salty sweet air of a coastal city, basking in the evening’s glow. Absolutely divine and photo worthy. Though while you’d love getting your picture taken at the moment, it’s not really the best time, sadly. But soon, the reason for it is walking along the sidewalk, looking for all the world like he owns the place. Coiffed hair, needle nose, thin jaw.
Nigel Warant. Not just a businessman, an RICH businessman. No cubicle lackey, this one, no. This man made his money and likes spending it. He SHOULD spend it on you, and were you not being pressed for time by your pencil dick of a brother (not that anyone else gets to say that about him) that might even be an option, but alas…needs must.
And you are a bit peckish anyway.
Sighing, you begin to slip out, having to leave the adorably peach and red colored hotel room behind- though you make sure to cover up the old man’s corpse in the bed the best you can. They’ll eventually find him when he starts stinking too bad. Old fart pretty much never left the room anyway. At least he had good taste in décor.
You’re quick to get out of the hotel via elevator, stairs, and a winning smile and wave goodbye at the doorman; jumping and flouncing about like a stupid baboon simply won’t do for a girl of your stature and person. He's out of sight by the time you get outdoors, but it's no matter. You have other ways you can track him. After all, a man with his personality?
His fear smells as sweet as honey. And you can trace that scent for miles, so- whoa!
You’re jostled by some unkempt LOUT that simply huffs back at you when you make eye contact; he rolls his eyes and without so much as an apology? Your vision starts swimming as that absolute cretinous FEEDBAG DARES TO WALK AWAY YOU SHOULD-
> -no. Noooo. You’re better than that. Eyes on the delicious prize, no need to go chasing substandard snacks. Pretty is as pretty does, and you're no barbarian wench. > -MAKE SURE HE UNDERSTANDS THAT THE BEST HE’LL GET IN HIS PATHETIC LIFE IS SEEING YOUR BEAUTIFUL FACE BEFORE HE DIES. IT'S MORE THAN HE DESERVES. > -gah! If you were busy you’d tell HIM a thing or two- maybe even three. But your brother will get snarky if you don’t get this guy sooner than later. Buuuut you can at least give him a parting shot, no?
The last of the Emperor’s children has died. He has no heir, an aging wife, and failing health. From his bed, which he finds harder and harder to leave each day, he orders the main family of every royal house to send forth a Champion to court to decide the future of the Empire.
You are the champion for [Pick 1], in your early childhood you warded with [Pick 1]: >Nethos, Clan Gerrard: Located in the Northwest in a mountainous region, the Nethons enjoy immense mineral wealth. Nethos is also unique because it is not organized as a kingdom, but instead as a sort of confederacy of mountain clans, where a new presiding family is chosen by sending champions to compete in a contest of the three sacred Nethon arts: Blacksmithing, Brewing, and Brawling. [Aspect: Competitor]
>Pan, House Goinsy: A modest kingdom east of Nethos and North of the capital. Lacking any real geographic or resource advantage, Pan has maintained its relevance through a focus on military discipline and strategy. Panese knights are considered the best in the Empire, with the exception of the Imperial knights (although many Imperial Knights are Panese in origin). Pan has a strict, militaristic culture. Many royal families ward their children in Pan to learn skill at arms. [Aspect: Chivalrous]
>Winterlands, House Reid: The Northernmost Kingdom, located in the cold tundras at the Northeastern end of the continent. Inhabitants of the winterlands are stereotyped to be gruff, independent, and self-reliant. The Winterlands cares little for diplomacy or currying favor at Court. They frequently find themselves in border disputes with their neighbors. Due to the lack of farmland in the Northern part of their territory, they cling tightly to the southern sections, and will fight fiercely to maintain their territorial integrity. [Aspect: Tough-as-Nails]
>Free Chalmuth, House Kabot: The youngest of all the kingdoms, located at an island west of the continent proper. Formerly a part of Ellia’s territory, but when the Fellants refused the island's call for troops to deal with rampant piracy, an uprising took place and the Chalmuthians refused to pay any taxes to either Ellia or the Emperor. The Emperor sided with the Chalmuthians, helped broker a peace with Captain Kabot, which involved installing the Pirate Captain as the new king of the island. [Aspect: Swashbuckler]
>Kingdom of Ellia, House Fellant: The largest and most prosperous of the houses outside of the Imperial family itself. Ellia has vast, lush farmland, sea access, and ample mineral wealth. Its capital is located directly west of the Imperial capital. Including maritime borders, it borders seven other kingdoms. Many have speculated that the Fellants aspire to secede from the Empire, or usurp it. Ellians despise Varyne and Chalmuth, feeling that their territory was wrongfully taken from them. [Aspect: Prestigious]
Seven thousand years have passed since your arrival at the Beta Sector. The children of Kara grew up into fierce warriors. Still, they point their swords at each other and know not the way Home.
You raised your Priestess from amongst them. The fairest maiden, pure and unspoiled by the evils of this dark world. She was trained since childhood for this role and there is simply no one else qualified.
You made her Warrior to fight against the Xenos. You made her Oracle to instruct the Sages. You made her Handmaid of the Mad Princesses.
Then it arrived the time when you could no longer deny her Birthright.
From the Ancient Lineage Of Kings, she claimed her position as the first Empress Of Mankind.
Sitting on her Golden Throne, she will rule for at least a Thousand Years, until the next Moot is summoned to decide who will take her place.
Her Servants, the Atlantean Banshees, are the very embodiment of Karma. Anyone who touches them, will suffer the worst punishments imaginable in this life, and an eternity of unimaginable torture in the next.
Last time, you went to school and nothing out of the ordinary happened. At the moment, you’re doing the most normal activity one can do during lunch break: eat your teacher’s meal. Anyway, food has lost relevancy as the conversation has moved on to new ventures. There’s not enough time to talk about both things Nina suggests, so you have to choose wisely. She said so herself. Look!
“Well, Johnny, there are two topics I’d love to talk about, but we only have time for one.” Nina checks her clock. Classes are returning soon! “One is about Kata, and the other is about Richard…”
“That’s an odd combination.” You chuckle.
“That’s why I’m keeping them separate.” Nina makes a tiny joke.
“Can you go into specifics?” You’d like to know more than just the people involved.
“A little. It’s nothing concerning. Well, maybe Richard’s, but it’s not a pressing matter. He went on a little scrappy mission not too dissimilar to the one you partook in to save Billy. It even involves Billy! H-Hooray!” Nina tries to sell this as interesting. “But I don’t believe he got the results he really wanted.”
“That sounds like it could be interesting. How about Kata’s?” You wonder.
“It’s a silly thing; since we don’t have enough time, I thought to myself: <span class="mu-i">why not talk about it?</span>” Nina is a little embarrassed bringing it up.
“Right.” You’d get into your thinking pose, but you’re moving as slowly as an international package.
If any of the two is any important, Nina wouldn’t be so casual about this.
<span class="mu-s">What do you do?</span>
>Return to your classroom before the mob returns to swallow you. >Ask about the Richard topic. >Ask about the Kata topic. >Ask Nina to summarize both really quickly. You won’t commit! >Write In.
Amon G. Sus is a homeless young trainer from Unova who recently won an all expenses paid trip to Alola. He's going to meet girls, Pokemon, trainers, and girl trainers. But there is a mystery behind his prize. And he's keen to figure it out.
>In our last episode
Our date with Mallow turned to a battle with the number 2 ranked trainer in all of Alola, Trial Captain Selene. Now we have an appointment to the Battle Carnival in a few hours. In the meantime we are in the middle of a Battle Royale and Darumaka has evolved to Darmanitan!
Spaghetti points determine how well our character talks to girls. The lower the number the better. But you can spend them on New Pokemon moves and Evolutions too. So get them but don't horde them.
>Now to the action
Darmanitan looks at his new body excitedly. He looks to you flexing his new arms. "Yeah that's great! Let's see what you got!"
>What do? Ability: Zen Mode Incinerate Psychic (To use this just say you want to. I'll take care of the rest.) Work Up Headbutt
OH SHIT NIGGA. You are lady Firemane. Of the (formerly) noble house of Fireborn! You were once the greatest wagon racer this side of the kingdom. Sadly due to shenanigans, you lost everything and went into debt with the Adventurer's Guild in order to survive. But then you found the Inexperienced Hero, Ezekiel "Kid" Rutebega ! You took him under your wing to mold him into the hero he's always meant to be: your devoted apprentice (probably)
Unfortunately your party has run afoul of Ezekiel's evil older brother. Who wrecked his hometown and beat your ass. As evil brothers to the hero tend to do. Currently you're recovering from the ass beating you've received, amidst the ruins of Ezekiel's hometown.
You’re Hangout Red: A pothead dropout of mythic status, you’ve got cryptid tier fame among the other losers of your dead rust belt college town. They all want a piece of your time, audience with the lord of losers himself and tonight’s no different.
Its 7PM on a Tuesday, you’ve just walked out of your job four hours early after having a cart induced mental freakout of radical proportions, it’s leaking in your pocket and your breathe reeks of artificial corner store bubblegum.
Your phone goes off in your pocket-there it is-tributes for the rat king. You can only choose one of the three callers
your objective is to have a good time and avoid autistic situations-you have a legend to uphold.
Every potential pick in your phone possesses the following three stats that can affect your legend ,RISK, POWER, and AFFINITY each one is rated from -10 to +10, with 0 as the average.
RISK: The social and mortal risk that comes with being in the vicinity of someone. Positive is danger and excitement, negative is safety and social exclusion
POWER: Abilities and general social skills, a low power companion could be embarrassing to have around or a source of little entertainment
AFFINITY: Affinity is your friend’s opinion of you, your actions will determine your standing with them, their overall effectiveness, and the quality of rewards.
Tonight you have three options. Who do you call?
>LAWTON PURPLE
RISK: +8 POWER: +8 AFFINITY: +1
You met Lawton three weeks ago at smoke shop when he threatened to turn the cashier into a t shirt while palming at the gun in his pocket because they wouldn’t sell him a hot knife A squinty eyed redneck, but he’s on your level, maybe even above it. A powerful mutant
>ASHLEIGH GREEN
RISK: -3 POWER: -8 AFFINITY: +9
Ashley’s a regular caller, a daily one, always staring at you with her huge ass eyes that don’t blink-you hang out with her once a month if that, mainly out of guilt for a mentally dubious art school fling that won’t go away. She gives you a headache, and there’s some funk going on. A regular sultan of stench
>JOHN BLUE
RISK:+1 POWER: +7 ALONE AFFINITY:?
-10 to affinity and social power rolls when his own party is summoned
You’ve known John for several years and you still don’t have a read on him, the man’s practically a copy of you. Consider him your best friend and rival. He’s your opposite everywhere it counts, he’s fit, suave, a man of god, straight edge , and you can’t tell if he hates you or not despite lifting your whole gimmick for himself, but with all of the vomit decorated edge filed off.
John’s double Achilles heels are his 26 year old virginity and his own party, a group of autistic dudes that fucking love magic the gathering. hell reeks where they tread, you’re not a fan
