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<span class="mu-i">"Few paths lead more quickly to damnation than that of innovation. The longer you walk it, the more Old Night closes in around you."</span>
-Magos Scintilla Vex
It had begun with a tapping. A scratching, that traced on the inside of your head. Not on the bone, not scraping, but deeper, tracing pathways on the inside of your head, but never quite approaching the bone. It followed the inner edge to your nose, your tongue. It made ripples in the water which drew you in, deeper and darker.
It completed it's revolution - inside your ear - and then it became the Voice.
The Voice was the water, and with the water, it would press into your mind and make thoughts, like leaving a handprint in clay, that washed out with the tide.
Tide. Clay. You knew what those things were, now. They hadn't been things you'd known before, but now you knew the texture of it, how it smelled or crumbled when it was dry.
You would ask questions, and the Voice would answer, pressing new thoughts into your mind and rushing old ones out. It seemed pleased by some questions, and if you had asked others, you could not recall. You did not know what to call the Voice, only that you must listen to it. You were not to speak to it as you would a master. It was not that, and it was more than that, but it did not teach you the difference, and so you returned to the water.
First, it taught you the world. Earth and sky. Floors. Walls. Switches. Cups. Fluids. Then it began to teach you what you are.
Who are you?
>K-455, a bodyguard model, easily replaced and yet durable, strong, made to fight and die. You were to be more resilient than most, vigilant in ways that others were not, and yet not entirely trusted. Unobtrusive, precisely tailored to the aesthetic specifications of the order, and nothing more.
>A-414, an actuarial model with prestigious memory. Sparsely, and precisely refined, with weak and pliable flesh. Easily made, and easily modified to suit whatever clerical or technical task was required, with a deft hand and a keen eye.
>L-301, a simple laborer. Smaller than most, soft of step and keen of senses. Carefully grown, observant and sharp. Even a laborer, however, can have their gifts. Uncanny silence and springiness of movement, a surprising complexity of thought. Surprising gifts, nothing more.
---
This quest allows you to designate a second-choice vote on decisions with three or more options before Write-Ins. When votes are totaled, the option with the least votes for it will be removed, with votes for that option instead being changed to the second-choice of those voters. This helps increase the accuracy of votes, but is not mandatory. Please specifically mark your second-choice as such if you do so.
Vote stay open for a minimum of six hours, but will usually take longer.
A note: My writing style is rather direct, but trust me, this is going to get a little goofy.
-Magos Scintilla Vex
It had begun with a tapping. A scratching, that traced on the inside of your head. Not on the bone, not scraping, but deeper, tracing pathways on the inside of your head, but never quite approaching the bone. It followed the inner edge to your nose, your tongue. It made ripples in the water which drew you in, deeper and darker.
It completed it's revolution - inside your ear - and then it became the Voice.
The Voice was the water, and with the water, it would press into your mind and make thoughts, like leaving a handprint in clay, that washed out with the tide.
Tide. Clay. You knew what those things were, now. They hadn't been things you'd known before, but now you knew the texture of it, how it smelled or crumbled when it was dry.
You would ask questions, and the Voice would answer, pressing new thoughts into your mind and rushing old ones out. It seemed pleased by some questions, and if you had asked others, you could not recall. You did not know what to call the Voice, only that you must listen to it. You were not to speak to it as you would a master. It was not that, and it was more than that, but it did not teach you the difference, and so you returned to the water.
First, it taught you the world. Earth and sky. Floors. Walls. Switches. Cups. Fluids. Then it began to teach you what you are.
Who are you?
>K-455, a bodyguard model, easily replaced and yet durable, strong, made to fight and die. You were to be more resilient than most, vigilant in ways that others were not, and yet not entirely trusted. Unobtrusive, precisely tailored to the aesthetic specifications of the order, and nothing more.
>A-414, an actuarial model with prestigious memory. Sparsely, and precisely refined, with weak and pliable flesh. Easily made, and easily modified to suit whatever clerical or technical task was required, with a deft hand and a keen eye.
>L-301, a simple laborer. Smaller than most, soft of step and keen of senses. Carefully grown, observant and sharp. Even a laborer, however, can have their gifts. Uncanny silence and springiness of movement, a surprising complexity of thought. Surprising gifts, nothing more.
---
This quest allows you to designate a second-choice vote on decisions with three or more options before Write-Ins. When votes are totaled, the option with the least votes for it will be removed, with votes for that option instead being changed to the second-choice of those voters. This helps increase the accuracy of votes, but is not mandatory. Please specifically mark your second-choice as such if you do so.
Vote stay open for a minimum of six hours, but will usually take longer.
A note: My writing style is rather direct, but trust me, this is going to get a little goofy.
