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<<nobr>>\ <<audio "invasion" stop>> <<audio "tension" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.40 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <<set $injury_leg to false>> <</nobr>>\ <img src="images/ch_1.png"> //Present Day// A series of punches land on your face. One after the other. Quick succession with enough power to tell you that the individual throwing said punches are no longer of the mindset to continue this interrogation. "Stop," another person grumbles, seeming to agree with your voiceless observation. "Calm down. If they black out, we won't get anything from them." Your interrogator looks like they want to argue, flexing their hand as if itching to deposit another jab to your cheek. But in the end, they back off. Gesturing for the previous speaker to take the floor. The pain felt from the last few punches is already starting to wear off, the numbing ability of your regenerative capabilities once again reminding you how lucky you are. A shaph steps up, bearing their own birth marking as well as a bright red one that you suppose should tell you what gang you've gotten yourself entangled with. Seeing that you don't usually involve yourself in their activity or idle gossip concerning them, your brain becomes blank regarding their name. That is probably foolish and irresponsible on your part. You've been tailing this gang for at least two weeks, learning everything but their name. At this point, you're pretty sure your ignorance is on purpose. "Do you want this to end?" they ask, leaning forward so that their face is closer to yours. "We'll let you go. Just tell us where our cache is." [[Remain quiet.|1.00Quiet][$open -=5]] [[Talk about your day.|1.00Talk][$open +=5]] [[Act compliant.|1.00Compliant][$view +=5]] [[Remind them that you don't know.|1.00Remind][$view -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> You say nothing, focused chiefly on your cheek and the chances of a bruise blossoming. If Checl sees you sporting another bruise, you will not be able to get out of hearing whatever outburst she's been storing away for you. The shaph snaps in your face, catching your attention long enough for you to raise an uncaring brow before returning to your thoughts. Yet it hardly has time to reestablish itself as yet another punch lands on your face and another to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "When I woke up today, I was really craving that gooey sandwich down at the bar. You know which one I'm talking about, right?" No one answers, but that hardly stops you, "anyway, I was craving it, and when I headed over there, they told me that the cook wasn't in yet. It's the afternoon, but the cook isn't there. Ridiculous." "What does this have to do with our cache?" the shaph questions, their eyes narrowing. You continue as if you hadn't heard their question, "I figured I could either sit and wait for the cook to come in, which could be who knows when. Or I could leave and start my day, pushing my craving to the -" The words are unable to make it out your mouth as the alien straightens up and moves, allowing the previous man to move in and land yet another punch to your face, and a second to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> "I do," you whimper, preparing to clear your throat and repeat the statement before catching yourself. You assume you sound somewhat sincere due to the fact that you do indeed want out of here. "Then tell me where my cache is," they yell, grabbing the back of your chair and leaning in. There's a fire in their eyes that would otherwise scare you if you hadn't lived through half the things you've lived through. You release another mock whimper, even bracing in fear when the shaph abruptly stands and roars in anger. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You sigh, your head drooping to the side as you close your eyes and question the sanity of those before you. "For the fifth time -" The words are unable to make it out your mouth as the alien straightens up and moves, allowing the previous man to move in and land yet another punch to your face and a second one to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
"I do not have the patience for this. You tell us, or I'll let Calhoun use his imagination and <<if $scars is "several">>further <</if>>mess up that hybrid face of yours." "Ain't too hard," the terran smirks, "their face looks plenty fucked up already." You're not sure if your eye twitches but you wouldn't be shocked if it did. Regardless, you need to wipe any kind of reaction away. You've heard it a hundred times before and you'll hear it a hundred more. <<if hasVisited("1.00Quiet")>>You stare at the figure for a moment longer, making sure they're done talking before you go back to your previous thoughts. A cut would be better than a bruise. At least then you can form some kind of lie around it. A bruise tells Checl all she needs to know, no reason to question you.<<elseif hasVisited("1.00Talk")>>"So there I am, walking down the streets in the alley district when someone calls my name. I don't know who they are. If I'm to be honest, half the folks here who seem to know me, well, I don't know them. But I stop. I have nothing better to do than hear them out, especially since I'm just wasting time waiting around for the chef. So, I approach them and -"<<elseif hasVisited("1.00Compliant")>>You shiver in your seat, trying to figure out what you should say next. You never get the chance.<<else>>"Come on," you sigh tiredly, "do I need to say it a sixth -"<</if>> Another round of punches, though not as many as you previously believed, but that's due to the knife now resting against your neck. The cold metal sends an involuntary shiver shooting through your body, furthering the confidence of the man who wields it. "You think I care about offin' you, mutt? I'll remove each of those fuckin' spots on your body and feed 'em to our snappers." You lazily gaze over at the creatures he's referring to. They were one of those creatures who had more than one name, shifting based on who you were speaking to. Snapper isn't wrong, though it's more of a nickname. Many call them boaroc due to the high resemblance of the boar-like creature with a crocodile head. The snout is shorter, but the bite pressure is basically the same if you remember correctly. They'd be highly intimidating if it wasn't for the deep v-shape gap in their head that divides their eyes, giving them a permanent absurd look that would make a child wish to befriend it. The man takes your inquisitive stare as one of fear, adding more pressure to the blade to recapture your attention. "So, what's it going to be?" he questions. You mentally sigh, closing your eyes as you try and do away with every rebellious thought you have. You need to sell this, or you'll be sitting here for another hour. [[Act terrified.|1.00Terrified][$mind +=2]] [[Remain stoic but cooperative.|1.00Stoic][$gut +=2]] [[Dare him.|1.00Daring][$heart +=2]]
"Alright," you whimper, your entire body trembling at the thought of death, "I'll tell you." The man pulls back with a smirk, looking over his shoulder at the others. You can imagine that he's boasting with pride residing in his eyes, a smirk forming his lips as he prepares to remind all that he's the one who broke you. It's cute, and if you weren't playing a part right now, you might have even chuckled. <<include "1.01">>
"Fine," you growl, stiffening in your seat and trying to draw away from the unsheathed blade, "I'll tell you where it is." "I knew your ass was lying," he growls, pressing the blade against your neck before retreating. He turns his back to you, and you can imagine he's currently boasting. Pride residing in his eyes as a smirk forms his lips, and he prepares to remind all that he's the one who broke you. It's cute, and if you weren't playing a part right now, you might have even chuckled. <<include "1.01">>
"As far as I've seen," you tell him, leaning just a bit closer, "you're nothing but talk. Do something." The word just barely leaves your mouth as he slaps you. For some odd reason, it stings more than his punches ever did. Following closely behind that is the blade biting into your arm, and you fake a hiss. You've had worse, so much worse, and from the hands of professionals. "Want to keep playing games?" he shouts, a few spatters of spit hitting your cheek as you drawback in disgust, though disguise it as fear. "No. I'll … I'll show you." He straightens up, twisting around as if waiting for his comrades to applaud him. You can imagine the pride residing in his eyes and the smirk forming his lips as he prepares to remind all that he's the one who broke you. It's cute, and if you weren't playing a part right now, you might have even chuckled. <<include "1.01">>
Two come to your side and begin to untie you from the chair but make sure to rebind your wrists. You allow them, far too concerned with your own portrayal. You never liked trying to play a role. There is always the fear that you're doing too much while simultaneously underplaying it and causing doubt to take root. //Tsering is a better actor.// Your jaw tenses at the thought. The simple truth is that he is. But the problem is that you now have close to a decade of memories that call for your attention to determine whether all of them were an act or not. "Hey! Focus up," the shaph snaps in your face, "you can think about what's going to happen to you after you show us what's ours." You have to fight not to raise an eyebrow at his words and instead gulp and nod. With your head down, you head towards where you hid their treasure. <a data-passage="1.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Not so <<if hasVisited("1.00Quiet")>>stoic now, huh?" the man from before asks. Though you believe you understand what he means, you're still highly confused as now, just like before, you're silent. Nothing has changed besides their perception of who has the higher ground.<<elseif hasVisited("1.00Talk")>>funny now, huh?" the man from before asks. You hadn't really thought that your story was a sign of your humor, especially when it did have a purpose regarding them.<<else>>confident now, huh?" the man from before asks. Confidence seems to be an odd word to use here, but correcting him will … well, perhaps show how confident you still are. You rescind such a thought.<</if>> As soon as you get outside, the sun greets you in its usual harsh manner. You don't know much about this system's sun, just that it's much older than most. Its luminosity and even its size are far more significant. You had always been told not to look directly at the sun, yet here you stand, being able to perfectly stare on and make out some of its colors without issue. It's not that you think everyone has lied to you, but that certain events have caused some worries to become obsolete. A sharp pinch-like feeling in your brain tells you to stop there, lest you wish to battle headaches that are not so easily defeated. "We better be going the right way, mutt," the terran male whispers in your ear, now placing a pistol against your head, "or I will blow your brains out without a second thought." You simply continue to walk. It'd be foolish to undo all your progress when you're so close to the end. All you need now is for your accomplice to do their part. Though, it's fine if they fail. You have backup plans in place. You always do. "What even the fuck are you?" the man questions, proving to you that he seems to either hate the silence or adore the sound of his own voice. "Some mutated wannabe Primer that got in way over their head? What are they?" He attempts to peel one of your markings off as if it's just another sticker that you naively placed against your skin for shits and giggles. It takes all your willpower not to turn and slap the man as he pinches your skin hard enough to leave a mark. "Fucking maniac," he grumbles when he realizes that the $markings markings cannot just be pulled off your skin. You turn the last corner and spot another group a few yards in front of you. You know what's about to happen, and before either side can react, you dodge out the way. Instead of trying to recapture you, your assailants follow your example and take cover. "Fucking Black Star scum," you hear someone scream before a round of plasma shots is fired. <a data-passage="1.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You fucking liar," your biggest fan shouts, attempting to tackle you, but he has made a critical error. He shouldn't have alerted you. You move out of the way at the last minute and pin him down. Grabbing his blade, you use it to cut yourself free. With your hands no longer bound, you snap his neck, grabbing the pistol and darting towards the wall of the nearest building and then pulling yourself to its roof. Once there, you gaze down at the carnage taking place below. Both sides have begun to take on casualties, but with every fallen member, their conniption grows. A simplistic alley brawl has turned into a war zone with bodies scattered about the place and fires laying claim to anything flammable. Neither side really knowing where they're shooting as their blind rage tells them to just never let off the trigger. "I can't believe we pulled that off," a voice behind you admits in astonishment. You give them a second-long glance before placing your attention back on the battle below. "Did you retrieve the cache?" you question, receiving no answer but instead, visual confirmation. Your accomplice hands the container to you, leaving your side so they can view the ongoing battle. "They're going to end up killing each other over this." "Not my problem," you mention, opening the receptacle and retrieving the solars inside. You have the recovered cache and a mental blueprint of the gang's main base. Even better, this gang war will escalate, calling all their members here and leaving said base unmanned. There's only one thing to take care of now. "You're right," the man says, his back still to you and engrossed in the scene. You eye him. He provided invaluable information to ensure that this two-week undertaking was a success, but at the end of the day, he's a loose end. Each solar you get is needed. You already have to split it three ways, not to mention giving a small amount to Prourc due to telling you about the caches in the first place. Giving even half of it away will have you doing additional work to acquire more, and work is not something that comes easy in the Dreads, even in terms of theft. And so, you have a decision that needs to be made. [[Give the man half like he expected.|1.03GiveHalf][$heart +=5; $attitude +=10; $solars +=100]] [[Shoot him.|1.03Shoot][$gut +=5; $attitude -=10; $solars +=200]] [[Let him live, but give him no cut.|1.03GiveNone][$mind +=5; $solars +=200]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Half, half, right?" you ask, fighting to quiet the voice that tells you how idiotic this is. There's enough death going on here. You aren't about to add to it for the sake of adding. "Yea," he says, turning to look at you with a sense of hope in his eyes. "I can get out of here. Maybe go to one of the other Outlands." You raise a brow as you begin the process of sorting the solars, wishing this place didn't rely on physical currency. "Another Outlands? What's the point of that? Go to Taouron." "Taouron requires a passport, ID, and I'd still have to buy a ticket. Going to one of the other two Outlands is easier. Make a new name for myself." You don't say anything as you pass the solars pouch to him. Ultimately, it's his business, and you don't care what he does with his share. Once he has the bag in hand, he counts and then nods at you. He takes one last look over the edge before leaving, and you do the same. There's nothing left here for you, and you should get back to the main base and ransack it before night falls. <<include "1.04">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You really don't like loose ends. They're dangerous. And when allowed to live, they always come back to bite you square in the ass. You should know. Checking to see if the pistol has ammo, you flip off the safety and aim it at his back. Wasting no time, you take the shot, and it buries itself into the spine. You watch as he falls forward, and with that taken care of, you head towards the main base to loot it before another gets the same idea. <<include "1.04">>
You can't share the solars; that's more a fact than anything else. But you also don't wish to kill a man whose help had been invaluable and whose death will serve no purpose. With his attention currently on something else, you use this moment to leave. Finding someone in the Dreads is harder than one may think, so you should be fine. You don't look back as you leave the area behind, heading towards the main base to loot it before another gets the same idea. <<include "1.04">>
<<nobr>>\<<set $solars += 150>><</nobr>>\ You bring your looting to a close just as the sun starts to set. You're sure you haven't looked through everything the gang's headquarters has to offer, but you at least gotten everything you set out to grab. Just in time to go by and pick Checl up too, you actually made great time. Stretching, you reach into your pocket ... [[... and bring out a cigarette.|1.05][$idle to "cig"]] [[... and grab a piece of candy.|1.05][$idle to "candy"]] [[... and grab a toothpick.|1.05][$idle to "pick"]] [[... and grab a piece of dip.|1.05][$idle to "tobacco"]] [[... and start walking.|1.05]]
<<if $idle is "cig">>\ ... and bring out a cigarette. You easily recall all the warnings given back on Genesis about these sticks. Cancer sticks, is what so many adults called them. You remember in school how they would show documentaries of people with holes in their throats, cancer, and cataracts. All to dissuade you and your classmates from ever picking one of the tobacco sticks up. You didn't want to say they failed, but innovation and ... and whatever the Baron did to you has made the cigarette effect on you null and void. Imagine receiving all of the positive effects of nicotine but none of the ugly truths. A dream come true for most, you're sure. Wherever you go, they go. The slightest hint of panic or anxiety has you reaching for one, though you have now gotten into the habit of grabbing them out of boredom. You cut it on, wait a few seconds, and then take your first puff. Inhaling, you're reminded of the residual pain existing in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ ... and you grab the first piece of candy that your hand touches. You unwrap it and plop it into your mouth, relishing the fruity combo that erupts in your mouth. You're not entirely sure where the habit originated from. One day, you just found yourself eating candy to soothe your nerves and redirect your thoughts. A mannerism that feels more like a lifeline nowadays. You typically choose hard candy, anything that lasts longer than a minute. Gum—especially the kind they make out here—is also a go-to. You shift your jaw around to rearrange the candy and find yourself reminded of the residual pain existing in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>\ ... and grab a piece of dip. Dip, chewing tobacco, snuff, or the much more relevant term, tuft. You didn't realize there was a difference until you tried it. Tuft behaves the same way. You can chew it, it's just as unhealthy for terrans, and it causes a slew of issues. The biggest difference is that it's made from plants native to the shaph homeworld and there's less need to spit. For them, it's a simple plant that they use to momentarily relieve pain; for terrans, it relieves a lot more. Which is why you have taken to it. <<if $markings is "blue">>Though, it has less of an effect on you than other terrans, something you noticed but can't figure out why.<</if>> At the end of the day, it's easy to find and affordable, so wherever you go, it goes. The slightest hint of panic or anxiety has you reaching for some, though you have now gotten into the habit of grabbing some out of boredom. Placing one in your mouth, in the pouch between your bottom lip and teeth, you shift your jaw and are swiftly reminded of the residual pain in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ ... and grab a toothpick. Honestly, you're unsure when or how you picked up the habit. Your best idea is that you had come across some and, out of indifference, grabbed them. It's not like they are cheap or easy to come by. Only terran establishments carry them, and buildings like that don't precisely rest on the corner of every street. You've learned to make them last, which is worthy of astonishment alone. In the past, you misplaced them, broke them, or simply placed them in the wrong pocket. You've rectified the behavior and, since then, have found that it helps get your mind off other, less appealing things. You place it in your mouth, shifting it from side to side and thus reminding yourself of the residual pain in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<else>>\ ... and start walking towards the bar. Your cheek still holds some residual pain from your interrogation, and pain or not, the bruises that decorate the side of your face aren't about to vanish. You'll just have to suffer through whatever Checl decides to do or say. <</if>>\ The sounds of fighting are farther now but still audible. And as you enter the canteen, you realize how fast word travels. None of it concerns you, just that the war that has been brewing for so long has finally started. Fear resides on everyone's face, and you can bet half the new faces you're seeing are hoping to find some kind of asylum from the terror outside. The bar is in neutral territory, but you doubt that will matter much. Your butt barely graces the seat when the terran bartender shakes her head, snapping as she approaches. "Up and out." "Come on, Riq. I just need to know if Checl is done." "No, no, and no," she growls, "I'm not in the mood for your nonsense today. I finally cleaned the bar up and haven't had issues all day. And with tensions as high as they are, I don't need you coming in and dragging whatever problems you have with you." "And I won't. You'll get no problems from me." Her eyes narrow as they land on the bruised side of your face, "yea, I totally believe you. Let me remind you that's the same thing you said last time." [[“They hit me first.”|1.05HitMeFirst][$approach -=3]] [[“I took that conflict outside.”|1.05ConflictOutside][$humor +=5]] [[“I did warn them.”|1.05WarnThem][$approach +=3]] [[“Well, what can you do?”|1.05WhatCanYouDo][$humor -=5]] [[“Look, I'm sorry.”|1.05Sorry][$attitude +=5]] [[“Oh, fuck you.”|1.05FuckYaHoe][$attitude -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "And I didn't start it last time. They did. What? You expect me not to finish it?" "I didn't expect anything. But you know the rules. All conflicts are to be handled outside. Away from the bar." "Why are you telling //me// this? Again, they hit me first." You're unsure what she wants to hear from you, as well as the extent she wishes to push it. Riq knows how to hold a grudge. Thankfully, you do more good concerning this bar than bad. <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "What are you talking about? I did handle that argument outside." She leans forward as if to deliver some sort of secret. Her eyes narrow, "because you blew a hole in the side of the damn building." "So now it's my fault that the structural integrity of your building is lacking?" You point at the same hole that currently has a 'construction zone' sign over it. "You should be thanking me. I helped this place with expansion." "Oh, is that what you think you did?" You wave her words away, "what do you want me to say? Sorry? Fine, I'm sorry." It takes everything to keep yourself from adding more to that apology, but you don't feel like prolonging this conversation and leave it at that. <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> "Why are you mad at me when I warned them to leave me alone? It's not my fault they're hard of hearing." "You still didn't need to retaliate the way you did." "Riq, I wasn't going to just sit there and let them do and say whatever their creative minds thought up. Instead, how about you vet who comes in here better?" <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> "Well," you start with a shrug, acting as if you're looking over the menu when you already know it by heart, "what can you do?" "What kind of question is that? You can choose to not fight people or at least follow the rules." "True. That is one of the things an individual can do. Or they can choose to fight and not listen to the rules. Both are possibilities." <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Okay, Riq," you raise your hands in surrender, hoping the action will calm her down further. "I'm sorry about that. As I said, you won't receive any problem from me as long as I can help it." She raises a brow, "as long as you can help it?" "I can't control other people," you sigh, wishing this conversation would come to an end already. You're not exactly sure what she expects you to say. <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> "Oh, fuck you." "No," she growls, tossing the rag to the side, leaning in, and pointing an accusing finger at you, "fuck you, Moran." "I didn't start that fight. You know that." "I don't care. You didn't actually try and de-escalate the situation either." "How was I supposed to de-escalate something that was already fully escalated?!" you question, attempting to find a semblance of care. "If they hadn't messed with me, everything would be fine. Maybe make sure I'm not messed with, and everything will remain fine." <<include "1.06">>
She sighs, pinching and massaging the skin on her forehead before nodding. "Just don't do anything today." Seeing that you have already had a full day, you are more than happy to oblige. "I'm just here to walk Checl home like always. Speaking of, you never answered me, is she done?" "She's finishing up last I checked." Riq pours you a drink and places a cup of ice beside it. Though she gives a warning glare, she seems content with letting the past stay where it is. That and you believe she has a soft spot for you. She's just a grumpy terran hardened by Crion's sun. She's also one of the only Genisers you've met outside of trarkran circles. She's never said much about her past and so you've no idea if she ended up all the way out here like most Genisers or if she somehow found another way. You've never cared to ask either. She respects your silence about your past and you've done the same. <<if $idle is "cig">>Taking one last puff, you cut the cigarette off and place it back in your pocket. A free drink is a free drink and you're not willing to let it go to waste. While the cup of ice will surely be helpful for a bruise you don't care much about.<<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>You make sure the tuft won't be a problem and sip some of the drink. A free drink is a free drink and you're not willing to let it go to waste. While the cup of ice will surely be helpful for a bruise you don't care much about.<<elseif $idle is "pick">>You take out the toothpick and in your free hand, graciously accept the drink, while placing the glass of ice against your temple.<<else>>Not willing to let a free drink go to waste, you graciously accept, placing the glass of ice against your temple.<</if>> <a data-passage="1.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"If it isn't my favorite terran," a sultry voice coos behind you. Riq snorts, not even bothering to hide her hurt from the comment as she turns to wipe down some glasses. You turn to face the zeach whose name you can't remember. She's familiar, at least, with long teal, blue, and green feathers mixed in with a few white and gray ones resting against cedar-toned skin. <span class="chip">>Species: <<link 'Zeach'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/zeach.png" align="right" width="30%">The zeach are a sentient, bipedal avian race that once held the ability to glide but has since lost such a function. They originate from the planet Dichi, but after surrendering to the vetix, can now be found largely on Cheria. The zeach have slender frames and stand anywhere between 5'7 (68 inches) to 6'5 (77 inches), though head feathers may add a few more inches. They have two arms with three fingers on each hand and two toes. The palms of their hands are softly padded while their nails are slightly curved and talon-like. Two sets of three, thin ears resembling butterfly wings rest along the side of their face. These ears are extremely sensitive and help regulate the species temperature. Mandible flaps exist around their mouth and lend credence to an all vegetation diet. The most notable feature on a zeach are their head feathers. Feathers can be found on both the species head and the elbow area. They have wide eyes with their sclera being either white or gold and the actual iris being black with no visible pupil. Unlike most species, the zeach have no kind of natural armor, a fact that may be due to the lack of predators on their home planet. They have a faster metabolism than many and their bodies are made for quickness and agility, not strength or endurance. Their skin tones can range from gold and browns to black and white and grey, and though not common, red. Along with obvious genitals, one can tell the difference between the sexes due to feather coloring. Male feathers are often shorter with muted colors of brown, black, white, and grey. While the female sex possess longer feathers that are thicker and bolder in color.<</dialog>><</link>> Origins: Dichi Bipedal avian creatures, the zeach have slender, non-muscular frames and stand between 5'7 (68 inches) to 6'5 (77 inches). They have two arms with three fingers on each hand and two toes. The palms of their hands are softly padded, while their nails are slightly curved and talon-like. Two sets of three thin ears resembling butterfly wings rest along their face. These ears are susceptible and help regulate the species' temperature. Mandible flaps exist around their mouth and lend credence to a vegetarian diet. The most notable feature of a zeach is their head feathers. Feathers can be found on the species' head and the elbow area. They have wide eyes, their sclera being either white or gold, and the actual iris being black with no visible pupil. Zeaches possess a fast metabolism; their bodies made for quickness and agility, not strength or endurance. Their skin tones range from gold, brown, black, white, gray, and though not common, red. An individual can tell the difference between the sexes due to feather coloring. Male feathers are often shorter with muted brown, black, white, and gray colors. While the female sex possesses longer feathers that are thicker and bolder in color.</span> "Oh, for fucks sake," you growl, swiping at the air to do away with the notification. <span class= "chip">>If you wish to stop receiving Codex Notifications in this form, then go to "Settings." All codex entries will then be sent directly to the Compendium for further viewing. There you will find other notification settings for your convenience as well.</span> Information you already know and thought you corrected. Thanks to your one-way trip down to solid ground—courtesy of Tsering—your abacus has been doing everything it can to remind you that it didn't come out unscathed. It took at least three cybernetic doctors to repair it, far too many solars, and enough patience to rectify your belief of no longer having any. And yet, that still doesn't account for the absent mods, a factor you believe is due to Tsering and whoever he was working with. You almost feel it wiser to simply get a new one implanted, but that would mean getting a Class C chip instead of your current level, S. And trying to get a military grade chip off the black market is both expensive, rare, and chancy. You're better off with your sometimes faulty chip. "You look like you could use the company," the zeach from earlier points out, reminding you of her presence. "You say that to everyone, Kahtea. Go find another customer to hassle." She ignores the bartender, still looking upon you with a flirtatious gleam in her eyes and waiting for some kind of answer. You motion for Riq to refill your glass and quit whatever you're trying to accomplish with the ice. //Note: The next few choices will determine your orientation and sexual and romantic attraction. For more information on romance and the individual characters see the [[Relations|Sidebar_Relations]]. If you choose to accept the offer, a few things such as orientation (you will not be solely interested in men or nonbinary/gender-fluid characters) and sexual attraction (you will not be sex negative) will already be determined.// [[Take her up on the offer.|1.07Accept][$s_att to "present"; $solars -=50]] [[Reject her.|1.07Reject]]
You stare straight ahead, thinking her offer over before shrugging your shoulders and throwing the drink back as if a shot. After all the things you did today, a quick distraction would be nice, and it'll give you something to do while you wait for Checl to finish up. "Sure. Why the fuck not?" Riq grumbles about something as the zeach's eyes light up with excitement. You transfer the solars, and the zeach nods her thanks. "Come," she whispers in a seductive manner as she grabs your hand and leads you to what you suppose is one of their backrooms. You pass tables full of drunken patrons, gamblers betting solars they don't have, and zeaches similar to Kahtea hoping to earn some money for the night. Traveling further to the back, you get a brief glimpse of some who had the same idea as you. Curtains not fully drawn allow you to spy upon actions no longer thought to be as intimate between two figures. The man and woman within catch your gaze but don't seem to mind the temporary attention. [[Your eyes drift to just the woman.|1.07Accept2][$int to "women"]] [[You gaze at both of them.|1.07Accept2][$int to "all"]]
Walking into a free room, you do a quick and cautionary glance around. Nothing strange, and nearly identical to the others besides a few fabric color differences. All the accents are shades of blue that aren't precisely the same as Kahtea's feathers but close enough for you to make the connection. "Each of you have your own room?" you question Kahtea as she begins to strip, slowly sliding her loose dress off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. "Only for us nest warmers," she answers, approaching you with confidence in her gait. Her hips tempt you to speed all of this up. "The show-birds don't receive half of what we do." She places her hands on your shoulders, gently massaging the skin as she hums lightly. "Just relax and let me see to all your needs." Backing up so that she's now in front of you, she takes your hand and pushes you backward until you fall onto the bed. Once there, she begins to kiss along your neck, softly nibbling the flesh before working her way back to your jaw. <<if $beard is "medium" or $beard is "long">>\ She giggles, drawing back as she twirls a part of your beard along her finger, "that's a new sensation. It tickles." "You don't deal with a lot of aliens with beards, do you?" "I don't deal with a lot of aliens with hair," she points out. "You and the raza are the only ones I can think of. And between you and me." She presses herself up against you, sitting so that her heat slides against your leg. "I like terrans more." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="1.07Accept3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You move back enough to look into her eyes. "You mind speeding this up a bit? I have a zeach that'll be waiting for me soon." It can either be your mentioning of Checl or just asking her to quicken her pace, which causes her seductive smile to flicker into a scowl. Either way, you won't be repeating yourself. And it seems like there's no need. She moves so that only you are sitting on the bed, and she is now resting between your legs. "Mind helping me out?" she inquires, attempting to keep her voice cheerful, but you can hear the slight attitude that has poisoned her mood. You remove your pants, and before you can even set them down, Kathea is on you. <<if settings.showec and ($sex is "p" or $sex is "v")>>\ <<if $sex is "p">>\ She flicks her tongue against your tip, licking the underside before wrapping her tongue around your hardening member and pulling a moan past your lips before you can still yourself. The sound seems to encourage her to quicken her pace, delicately grabbing onto your dick as she licks down your shaft before taking more of you into her mouth. Tilting your hips upwards, you slide further past her accepting lips and fight the urge to grab onto her and mouth fuck her. You're not sure what it is about zeach's mouths, but they work magic. Case in point as Kathea's mandible-like lips repeatedly squeeze against your member. Just enough to not be too rough but harsh enough to push you over the edge. You relax, allowing your head to hang to the side as you allow yourself to get lost in the sensations. <<else>>\ At first, she is slow. Her tongue pushes past your lips and towards your heat as if she's lost and unsure how she should proceed. But it lasts only a short while before she picks up her pace and, using her fingers to separate them, delves deeper inside. You let your head hang back as you let out a low moan, fighting the urge to push yourself closer to her and grind against that terrific mouth of hers. She clings to your thighs as her tongue continues to undo you, flicking your clit teasingly before going back to your slit, lapping up any of the juices she can find before performing a light suck. You lie back and close your eyes, letting the sensations take your mind off everything that happened that day. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You hardly have to give her any direction as she takes the incentive and begins to pleasure you. The past few days and, ultimately, the past hour or so, drift away and clear your mind, letting the sensations of here and now take your mind off everything. <</if>>\ And just as quickly as it starts, it finishes. In moments like this, there's no such thing as foreplay or prep, not unless you want to pay an upcharge. It serves its purpose, but you're not sure if you could always deal with something like this. [[Probably not. Feelings get put on the line and everything goes to hell. (You feel romantic attraction.)|1.07Accept4][$r_att is "yes"]] [[Depends on you mostly. You can keep your feelings in check for the most part. (Your romantic attraction fluctuates.)|1.07Accept4][$r_att is "meh"]] [[Probably. Feelings and romance are of no consequence. (You do not feel romantic attraction.)|1.07Accept4][$r_att is "no"]]
She relaxes on the pillows, stretching as she looks at you with a content look in her eye. "I hope that was serviceable. Fitting your ... terran tastes." You roll your eyes as you pull up your pants and straighten your clothes. When she pronounces terran that way, you gain an overwhelming need to introduce her top mandible to her bottom. You head to the only mirror in the alcove to look yourself over. You grimace at the bruise that has already sped past the stage of being red and has now blossomed into the purple and blue stage of its life cycle. Rapid healing has its downfalls—namely—dealing with your appearance. A day or so worth of healing happens in minutes or hours, and scars never truly heal the right way, so they keep a hint of red instead of fading back to your skin tone. Satisfied, you move the curtain aside and leave the den behind. "You're welcome," Kahtea shouts after you. Approaching the bar, you find Riq and Checl standing there. "There goes your terran." Checl turns, her eyes widening and then narrowing as her feathers stand on end. She finally turns to face the bar but then sighs, and by the time you are beside her, she seems to have relaxed the tension in her shoulders. "Let me see," she grumbles, carefully grabbing your chin to examine the bruise. Did Kahtea do this?" You raise a brow and Riq snorts. "You know damn well that zeach is too skittish for something like that. You also know that your friend here gets into all sorts of trouble." "What happened?" she asks you. <<include "1.08">>
"Sorry, not interested." Riq's eyes light up, though you're sure it's more to do with how Kahtea will respond than being happy that you won't be doing any fornicating with the zeach tonight. "Am I not to your terran-hybrid standards?" You throw the drink back as if a shot, wishing this conversation would end. [[“No, I’m just not interested. Period.” (Eliminates Romance Entirely)|1.07NoRomance][$int to "none"]] [[“Not really a sexual creature.” (Sex Negative Choice)|1.07SexNeg][$s_att to "none"]] [[“Can I just not be interested?” (Sex Positive Choice)|1.07SexPos][$s_att to "present"]] [[Ignore her.|1.07Ignore]]
"No," you tell her, "I'm just not interested. Period. Doesn't matter who they are or what they are. Sorry, sweetheart." You clear your throat, thankful that Riq has already refilled your glass and even more thankful when the zeach walks off. "Here comes your zeach," Riq warns and before you can even turn your head enough to spot her, she's there and cradling your cheek. "What happened?" <<include "1.08">>
"No," you sigh, attempting to come up with the words, "I'm just not a sexual creature. It doesn't interest me in the slightest. You'll probably get farther with the counter top." Riq snorts, pouring you another, and you accept it. This'll be your last one. "Cute," Kahtea finally says, twisting on her heel and walking away, already having scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. "You really don't like sex, or was that just to get Kahtea to leave you alone?" "I was being honest. Sexual attraction matters to me as much as someone's opinion of me." The words end up making you think about how you feel about romantic attraction ... [[Same thing. Doesn't exist.|1.07SexNeg2][$r_att to "no"]] [[It fluctuates.|1.07SexNeg2][$r_att to "meh"]] [[You feel that one.|1.07SexNeg2][$r_att to "yes"]]
"How does that work?" she questions, narrowing her brow in confusion. You share her confusion. She acts as if your practice is alien when you can say the same for anyone who acts purely on their sexual whims. [[“I still like men.”|1.07.1][$int to "men"]] [[“I still like women.”|1.07.1][$int to "women"]] [[“I still like non-binary and genderfluid people.”|1.07.1][$int to "nonbinary"]] [[“I still date people.”|1.07.1][$int to "all"]]
You open your mouth to answer but someone beats you to it. "It works just like you having sex with someone works. You do it. $name just doesn't, so stop looking at them like that Riq." You gaze over at the speaker. "Hi, Checl." "Don't casually greet me." She shifts the bag in her hands over so that she can touch and examine your face, "what happened?" <<include "1.08">>
"Can I just not be interested in you taking me to some dark corner to ravage me?" you ask, smirking as she frowns. Riq at least seems to find you amusing, pouring you another drink as she chuckles. You thank her but let it be known that this will be your last. The last thing you need is a buzz. The topic concerning your sexual prowess has got you thinking about how you feel about the romance side of things though. [[That one doesn't exist.|1.07SexPos2][$r_att to "no"]] [[It fluctuates.|1.07SexPos2][$r_att to "meh"]] [[You have that one too.|1.07SexPos2][$r_att to "yes"]]
"I'm just not your type, then? Too much woman for you to handle." This woman is insufferable, and with a sigh and a mere glance, you answer. [[“Actually, you're right.” (Men Only Choice)|1.07SexPosMen][$int to "men"]] [[“Not enough woman is more like it.” (Women Only Choice)|1.07SexPosWomen][$int to "women"]] [[“Just a bit.” (Non-Binary Only Choice)|1.07SexPosNB][$int to "nonbinary"]] [[“I can handle a lot, trust me.” (All Choice)|1.07SexPosAll][$int to "all"]]
"Actually, you're right. A woman's body may bring some to their knees, but I'm not one of them. It's like a superpower." While you snort, she scoffs, walking away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<include "1.07.2">>
You look her up and down slowly, unable to contain the laugh that begs to be released. "I'm actually used to dealing with a lot more woman. You fit a bill, just not mine." If it's possible for her scowl to grow any deeper, it just did. She walks away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<include "1.07.2">>
You almost snort into your glass. "Yea, just a bit." She smiles, her three ears all fluttering as if you had just given her the most precious compliment ever. You almost wish to knock the smile off of her face with the reason why but you decide against it, let her have her simplistic victory. She walks away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<include "1.07.2">>
"Oh, you would be amazed at all that I can handle. Whether separate or all at once." You focus on your drink, "you're lightweight compared." If it's possible for her scowl to grow any deeper, it just did. She walks away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<include "1.07.2">>
"Is she always like that?" you question Riq. "Wouldn't you know? You're her favorite terran." The two of you chuckle as a zeach who you actually know approaches. Before you can even properly greet her, she's by your side and cradling your face in her softly-padded, though taloned, hands. "$name, what happened?" <<include "1.08">>
You choose to ignore her, not caring to give a reason. In fact, you hope she just walks away, which happens later rather than sooner. Despite remaining quiet, you do think about the reason why you turned her down. [[You’re not interested in people. Period. (Eliminates Romance Entirely)|1.07IgnoreNoRomance][$int to "none"]] [[You’re interested, just not sexually but romance wise … (Sex Negative Choice)|1.07IntRomance][$s_att to "none"]] [[You’re interested sexually. Romance wise … (Sex Positive Choice)|1.07IntRomance][$s_att to "present"]]
[[Romance doesn't exist either.|1.07IntChoice][$r_att to "no"]] [[Romance fluctuates.|1.07IntChoice][$r_att to "meh"]] [[You feel romance too.|1.07IntChoice][$r_att to "yes"]]
If you are going to be specific about the gender then … [[You are only interested in men.|1.07IgnoreMen][$int to "men"]] [[You are only interested in women.|1.07IgnoreWomen][$int to "women"]] [[You are only interested in non-binary/genderfluid people.|1.07IgnoreNonBin][$int to "nonbinary"]] [[You are interested in everyone.|1.07IgnoreAll][$int to "all"]]
<<if $s_att is "none">>You’re not interested in people sexually, and you only find yourself attracted to males. So, she just kind of lucked out entirely there.<<else>>You’re interested in sex but only find yourself attracted to males. One for two when she needs a perfect score.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
<<if $s_att is "none">>You're not interested in people sexually even though you are attracted to females. The thing is, she needs a perfect score, and she's one for two. So, she just kind of lucked out entirely there.<<else>>It's not that you found her unattractive. And perhaps any other day you'd take her up on it, but today isn't that day and she just has to accept that.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
<<if $s_att is "none">>You’re not interested in people sexually, and you only find yourself only attracted to people who are nonbinary or genderfluid. So, she just kind of lucked out entirely there.<<else>>You’re interested in sex but only find yourself attracted to people who are nonbinary or genderfluid. One for two when she needs a perfect score.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
<<if $s_att is "none">>It didn't matter what she was, you weren't a sexually charged being. Sex exists and you don't care much for it, end of story.<<else>>It's not that you found her unattractive. And perhaps any other day you'd take her up on it, but today isn't that day and she just has to accept that.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
"Here comes your zeach," Riq warns and before you can even turn your head enough to spot her, she's there and cradling your cheek. "What happened?" <<include "1.08">>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $unlock_checl to true>> <<if ($int is "men" or $int is "all") and ($s_att is "present") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_tser to true>> <</if>> <<if ($int is "men" or $int is "all") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_zihr to true>> <</if>> <<if ($int is "women" or $int is "all") and ($s_att is "present") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_checl to true>> <</if>> <<if ($int is "all" or $int is "nonbinary") and ($s_att is "none") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_sin to true>> <</if>> <<if $int is "all" or $int is "nonbinary">> <<set $flirt_minute to true>> <</if>> <<if $int is "women" or $int is "all">> <<set $flirt_seben to true>> <</if>> <</nobr>>\ "It doesn't look that bad, right?" you snort, wondering if you should push her away. Zeaches are an extremely touchy species, personal space isn't a thing to them. They'd touch a complete stranger without second thought as it's just in their nature. The last time you pulled away, she thought you were mad at her, and it took more than an hour to explain why you reacted in such a way. <<if $flirt_checl>>[[Push her away. (Will remove Checl as a potential LI.)|1.08PushHerAway][$checl_touch to false; $flirt_checl to false]]<<else>>[[Push her away.|1.08PushHerAway][$checl_touch to false]]<</if>> <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Lean into her touch.|1.08LeanIntoTouch][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<<else>>[[Lean into her touch.|1.08LeanIntoTouch][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Snatch her hand and kiss it.|1.08SnatchHand][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<<else>>[[Snatch her hand and kiss it.|1.08SnatchHand][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Let her.|1.08LetHer]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Checl will try to keep her hands to herself.<</notify>><</if>>\ "Checl," you start, grabbing her wrists and moving them away from your face, "we talked about this. Remember?" "Yes, my apologies." Head feathers that have once been frazzled a moment ago now drop back into place. She shifts from one foot to the other, unable to keep still. "I still want to know what happened to you. What did you do?" <<include "1.09">>
You're unsure what comes over you as her hands touch your face. It's almost an involuntary action that finds you leaning closer, breathing her entire presence in. She smells slightly of sweat, mixed in with something far more flowerly. Sadly, the stale desert winds will rob her of such a subtle yet reassuring scent, leaving an odd perfume of insipidness behind. When you realize what you're doing, you straighten up and hope that she hasn't noticed the action you can barely even explain. "Will you answer?" she asks, "what did you do?" <<include "1.09">>
You follow her with your eyes, not breaking eye contact even as you snatch her wrist. She yelps in shock but you refuse to loosen your grip as you bring her hand closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Everything about her seems to freeze and you can do nothing more than laugh as you release her, getting to your feet. <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept")>>\ "Did you do that to Kahtea as well?" "Oof," you chuckle, "are you jealous?" "Irritated is a better word." "Next time I'll invite you to come by. How about that?" She rolls her eyes and points to your face. "Tell me what you did." <<else>>\ "Let's go, Checl." "You ... you," she stammers, unable to form words as you hear her follow you out. Once she is at your side she points to your face. "Your teasing aside, what did you do?" <</if>>\ <<include "1.09">>
You allow her to continue cradling your face. Despite possessing taloned fingers, you're always amazed at how soft the palms of her hands are. You would compare them to pillows if they were slightly more fluffy. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head as she pulls away, "what did you do?" <<include "1.09">>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $flirt_tser is false>> <<set $tserRo to 50; $tserRoPo to 0>> <</if>> <</nobr>>\ "What did I do?" you ask incredulously, "why do you assume this is my fault?" "Isn't it?" Part of you wish zeaches had brows; at least it would give them slightly more familiar expressions. As of now, you can only judge some of her emotions off of tone, which isn't bad since emotion seeps through her words so freely. But a little extra assistance can't hurt. "I'll tell you on the way home." She nods. The two of you say farewell to Riq and walk outside just as an explosion causes the ground to shake. A dense smoke rises from a distant building, promising to paint the sky with a darkened fog. Even with it being miles away, you can hear the foundations crumble, the rest of it following soon after. The fighting will meet an armistice once night sets in. Not even their grudges are strong enough to test their luck against the <<link 'nightbeasts'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>>The nightbeasts are a nocturnal, carnivorous species that live in the The Spires located on Crion. During the day, the beasts sleep underneath the sand, the only thing that can be seen are the thin spikes that rest along the creature's back. At night, the creatures awaken and spend most of this time hunting and eating. Large and bulky, a nightbeast is a quadruped with no tail, thin spines standing upright along its back, and along neck that leads to a sizeable head. The creature has no eyes but a set of quills around its face with slits beneath that act as nostrils. It has a large mouth that houses a row of long serrated teeth used strictly for tearing into flesh. With four muscular legs, nightbeasts rely on speed and stealthy to take down their prey. Their back legs are digitgrade, allowing a more nimble gait, as well as to press themselves closer to the ground or even stand on their hind-legs. Their forelimbs are used to catch prey and dig, as on the end of both of these limbs are long-curved claws that allow the animal to dig underneath the packed sand and create small den pockets.<</dialog>><</link>>. Though, you find that not to be much of a reprieve. Now, no part of the day or night will be safe. <a data-passage="1.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The two of you head away from the main streets and towards the slower, though no less populated, residential area. A cluster of rundown apartment-styled buildings exists in front of you, made primarily of sandstone and scraps of whatever one can find. Trash litters the site and does more for the 'beauty' than the actual overgrown plants and vines adorning the yard. A large fire that reeks of burnt rubber lies in front of the building you head towards, a sizeable crowd lingering around it and showing no signs of being repulsed by the odor. You quicken your step, jumping up and grabbing hold of a rickety ladder that falls down with a loud clatter. You move out of the way, allowing Checl to go first. "Thank you," she smiles, performing a small curtsy before she makes her way up. You follow close behind, climbing up to the third story and then swinging to a large ledge and entering the building. Poorly blue-lit halls rest before you, many of the lights flickering and briefly applying light to the numerous atrocities lying in the dark recesses of the hall. You've learned to ignore them. Either that or you have gotten so used to the sight that you'd probably be far more bothered if it was cleaned. A scary thought, no matter which one is true. You enter your shared home, greeted by the few candles that dot the small space, illuminating key areas and reminding you of the numerous chores you repeatedly put off for the next day. A large, shoddy rug rests in the middle of the dusty dark gray floor that holds more holes than dust. The area is sparse, with minimum furniture acquired through various means adorning the room. Consisting of a long three-person chocolate couch, a chair of the same color, a wooden table pushed up against the wall, and an old black bookcase. You close the door, squinting in suspicion at how quiet everything is. But realization hits you too late as a figure leaps out from the darkness, pinning you to the ground as its head looms closer. The beast wastes no time, nuzzling into you and producing an impatient and purr-like whimper. "I can't do anything if you don't get off," you point out, wishing to sigh, but the beast's weight disallows such an action. Instead, you release a sharp whistle and snap your fingers, causing the creature to immediately move, lying on its side and wiggling uncontrollably. <a data-passage="1.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"He missed you," Checl observes from the kitchen, busying herself with her own bags. "No, he's just hungry," you snort. You wander over to the cabinets, narrowing your eyes as you look at the sparse area. A few more cans of food. You'll have to make a run soon. But that is a thought for tomorrow. You grab two cans and go to the creature who seems ready to pounce on you a second time. "Alright, alright," you chuckle, opening the cans and placing the alien-like sludge in the metallic-chipped bowl. He pauses, waiting for you to back up before he licks at the sludge with a long and thick luminescent tongue. He's an <<link 'aiczeots'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>><img src="images/species/aiczeots.png" align="right" width="55%">Aiczeots, also known as Element/Domain Hounds or Slit Hounds, they are a reptilian-canid species native to the Draconis system but distributed to other areas by the vetix who first partnered and formed bonds with the creatures. A tamed hound is a loyal companion that will risk its life for the individual it has bonded with whereas a wild one is an efficient and ardent apex predator that is known for its intellect and skill. There are eight known hound breeds, with one of those being modified: Blight, Earth, Rune (modified), Electric, Blood, Chaos, Fire and Spirit. Possessing six powerful legs, the aiczeots are covered in a mix of tough, chitin-like armor on its back and underbelly with simpler scales everywhere else. The forelegs have a dew claw on each, used mostly for grasping onto rocky surfaces and traversing the land at quicker speeds. The mid-legs main use is for climbing and during close combat has been seen to be used to grab and swat at their target. On both shoulders is a thick, round-tip spike that lies against their back but can twitch and vibrate at times. Though not truly known, it's believed that the spikes function as an olfactory system. When an aiczeots shake them it is believed they are releasing pheromones or a strong musk to warn others of their presence and mark territory. One of the top senses in the creatures is their smell, and many believe aiczeots each have their own unique smell to distinguish them from others. The tail length and thickness depends on the breed with blight aiczeots having long yet thin tails to spirit aiczeots having the shortest tails. These lengths can be between 4 to 7 feet in length, while aiczeots stand between 4 to 5.5 feet. Aiczeots have a set of slits resting on the rear of their underbelly, both hindlegs, and on both sides of their foreheads. These act as the creatures nose, allowing them to not only discern a wide variety of smells but also filter out toxins and locate prey. The creatures possess a long, thick and slimy tongue that can both be used as a weapon as well as a means of tasting the air and providing them the ability to pick apart chemicals in the air or along the ground. It is not unusual to see aiczeots licking the ground during hunts or simply out of curiosity in new environments. This tongue can also be used as a weapon as every breed has their own form of toxin that make up the slime that coats their tongue and can be used against others.<</dialog>><</link>>, though many simply refer to the enormous reptilian-canine species as an element or domain hound. Its height reaches around four feet, and its weight eclipses yours. Its body is a mix of tough, chitin-like armor on its back, underbelly, and simple scales everywhere else. On both shoulders, a thick, rounded spike lies against the back. The few slits along its underbelly, back legs, and both sides of its forehead have a mesmerizingly … [[… crimson, like blood, glow.|1.12][$breed to "blood"]] [[… neon green, resembling acid, glow.|1.12][$breed to "blight"]] [[… pitch black, a captivating but never-ending abyss, glow.|1.12][$breed to "chaos"]] [[… purple, ethereal, glow.|1.12][$breed to "spirit"]]
Your particular hound is a <<if $breed is "blood">>blood one. His body is dark red with bright red slits; as the name implies, his talent is blood. Research and personal experiences have shown that the creature is susceptible to blood. Being able to pick up the smell and use it to track.<<elseif $breed is "blight">>blight one. His body is a dark brown, with his slits being an acidic green and yellow mix. Research told you that he can make acid that will coat the tip of his tail and tongue. While personal experiences have shown you just how dangerous that acid can be when it comes into contact with others.<<elseif $breed is "chaos">>chaos one. Your hound is a dark blue that, if not studied hard enough, simply looks black. His slits are black, but you have found that using such color to describe it is strange, especially since they feel like they're dragging you into an abyss. You've never had it happen to you, and you hope you never do, but the hound can practically mesmerize another. Surrounding them in terrifying darkness that they can't escape.<<else>>spirit one. Reminding you of a ghost, the hound is a light grey with purple slits. Research tells you that his ability is akin to empathy, picking up the emotions of others and being able to manipulate them to a point. You've never seen it in action, but you're sure you one day will.<</if>> The hound finishes the last of his dinner and turns to you, cocking his head to the side and performing a sound you have long since realized is meant to be a whimper. "One day," you murmur as he approaches and collapses into your lap, forgetting how much he weighs. Pushing him off is pointless. He simply doesn't budge or will readjust to make an attempt harder. So, you simply pat the area devoid of scales, "you deserve far better food than this …" [[Ramses.|1.13][$hound to "Ramses"]] [[Churro.|1.13][$hound to "Churro"]] [[Fenrir.|1.13][$hound to "Fenrir"]] [[Onyx.|1.13][$hound to "Onyx"]] [[Ghost.|1.13][$hound to "Ghost"]] [[His name is …|InsertHoundName]]
<<textbox "$hound" "" autofocus>><<button "Enter">><<replace "#hound">>The name of the aiczeots is $hound.<</replace>><</button>> <span id="hound"></span> <a data-passage="1.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
His diet should be nothing but meat or eggs with some minerals combined. But you're stuck feeding him this slop that barely gives him his needed nutrients. "Alright," Checl sighs, gaining your attention, "tell me what happened." "First, here." You retrieve your pack, leaving $hound's side for a moment to give it to her. She eyes you questionably before opening it up and you watch <<if $solars >=200>>as her eyes widen in shock, her feathers again rising.<<else>>as she silently counts the solars inside.<</if>> <<if $solars >=200>>\ "This has to be more than a hundred. How did you get this much so quick?" You hum, waving her question away. She won't chide you on your activities but that doesn't mean she'll like the idea of you going around starting gang wars in the place you reside. <</if>>\ She disappears for a minute, coming back with another satchel that you know holds the rest of the solars you've all been collecting for over a year. She begins counting, falling into a natural pace that has her mumbling to herself. For a moment, you look her over. Her main skin tone is light gray, but you find it odd to even pay attention to that aspect when her feathers are the main attraction. They consist of dark gray, ginger, sage, and a rouge pink. You've seen zeaches wear them in several different styles, mainly using twine and some kind of oil that keeps their feathers from moving. At times, Checl will pull her shoulder-length feathers back, carefully using twine to keep them out of her way. But more often than not, they're down and free to do as they wish, some feathers resting against her shoulders. Like most of her species, she's tall and slender-framed. A body that looks perfect for gymnastics and dancing. A fair assessment seeing that you've seen her do both and find yourself constantly impressed at how fluid she had appeared. She had been practically hypnotic. Telling a story with her movements, whether she intended that to be the outcome or not. She finishes around the same time you're done with assessing her appearance. A look of hope in her eyes as she stares at you. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "Well, we're about fifty solars off. Maybe even closer to forty. But we're much closer." You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You could've met the goal if you hadn't given the solars to the man, but still, this is something. "But $name, that's not what I care about right now. What happened?" <<else>>\ "Don't get me wrong, I want to jump up and down right now because we have enough to get out of here. But what happened?" You ignore her probing, coming to her side as you look the solars over. "Are you serious? We have enough?" "$name." "A whole fucking year," you snort, throwing your head back and wanting to scream at long last. You had doubts that you would ever get to this point. That maybe you'll be stuck here in the Dreads for another year or so. "$name." "What?" "What. Happened?" <</if>>\ [[Tell her the truth.|1.14][$open +=5; $checl -=10; $unlock_zihr to true; $solars to 0]] [[Fabricate.|1.14][$open -=5; $checl +=10; $unlock_zihr to true; $solars to 0]] [[There's a comfortable middle ground somewhere.|1.14][$unlock_zihr to true; $soalrs to 0]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>For the sake of the group and the ability to leave, you give all your solars to Checl.<</notify>><</if>>\ You prepare to answer her question as the door slams open, and you hear him before you see him. "What did you do?" You roll your eyes, not even bothering to turn around and face the <<link 'raza'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/raza.png" align="right" width="30%">Raza are a sentient, bipedal mammal race with the unique ability to take on the physiology of other species who come into contact with one of them. Such an ability is believed to have aided the Raza with communicating with other species and quickly assimilating into different cultures, most notably the Trarkran who originate from the same planet and star system. In respects to basic skeletal structure and limbs, Raza resemble Terrans the most. Like the Terran species, they possess five fingers and toes, with a vertical spine that leads to a single head. On their foreheads are two horn-like antennas that can be semi-controlled by the individual. Along with this are four egg-shaped markings that rest in the middle of their forehead, with the fourth on the bridge of their nose between their eyes. Unlike the various skin tones of the race, this gem-like feature is always a shade of light blue. Another bodily difference is the length of their ears. Shooting straight up, their ears can be anywhere from 8 to 12 inches, with a few outliers that are not uncommon. The Raza are one of the only species known to have dual-skin tones, their interior colors range in shades of green, blue, purple, red, and brown. While exterior tones rest along the forehead, arms, and legs, an assortment of colors has been observed besides brown, black, white, and grey. These colors are hereditary, with the chances of acquiring the father's gene at 75%. Eye color is similar, existing in many colors and allowing the Raza the ranking of being one of the most colorful species in the galaxy.<</dialog>><</link>> that enters. It's late, and you're not sure you're of the mindset to receive both a lecture from Checl and a verbal lashing from Zihr. And so you remain quiet. You're more than sure that your current appearance holds enough incriminating evidence to validate whatever Zihr believes. "Zihr?" Checl questions, her head cocked to the side in confusion as she glances from him to you. "Not now," he tells her, walking to her side, but his eyes never leave you. <<if settings.codexShow>>\ <span class ="chip">>Species: Raza Origins: Miarilia In respect to basic skeletal structure and limbs, raza resemble terrans the most. They possess five fingers and toes, with a vertical spine that leads to a single head. On their foreheads are two horn-like antennas that can be semi-controlled by the individual. Along with this are four egg-shaped markings that rest in the middle of their forehead, with the fourth on the bridge of their nose between their eyes. Unlike the various skin tones of the race, this gem-like feature is always a shade of light blue. Another bodily difference is the length of their ears. Shooting straight up, their ears can be anywhere from 8 to 12 inches, with a few outliers that are not uncommon. The raza are one of the only species known to have dual-skin tones, their interior colors range in shades of green, blue, purple, red, and brown. While exterior tones rest along the forehead, arms, and legs, an assortment of colors has been observed besides brown, black, white, and grey. These colors are hereditary, with the chances of acquiring the father's gene at 75%. Eye color is similar, existing in many colors and allowing the raza the ranking of being one of the most colorful species in the galaxy.</span> <</if>>\ Finally, he snorts, shaking his head in what sounds like disappointment, but you're sure it's just a lack of surprise. "Do you think your actions through or do you simply make it up as you go?" "I can assure you, my actions are thought out," you reply, leaning back with a sigh, "but the overall concept? That's nothing but pure improv." "The area is practically engulfed in war." "What?" Checl shouts, but neither of you pay her any mind. "If not today," you say jadedly, "then sometime tomorrow or the day after that." He narrows his eyes, indicating that you're about to be reminded of how honorable he is compared to you and perhaps everyone in the Dreads. "Dozens, no, hundreds of innocent people will be caught up in the crossfire. And for what? For you to earn a few solars?" [[“Go play hero then.”|1.14GoPlayHero][$zihr +=3]] [[“A few?”|1.14AFew][$zihr +=2]] [[“Ah, I'm supposed to care.”|1.14IShouldCare][$zihr -=3]] [[“Jealous?”|1.14Jealous][$zihr -=2]] [[“You're ignorant.”|1.14Ignorant][$zihr -=5]] [[“Please don't simplify this.”|1.14Simplify][$zihr +=5]]
"You're right," you gasp in mocked shock, "it sounds like the perfect time for you to go and play hero then." You rise, wishing to end this conversation for the night. You're sure he'll bring it up tomorrow, and perhaps then you'll have more of a wish to engage him. <<include "1.15">>
"Say what you want about my actions. But reducing it all down to 'a few solars' is just demeaning and incorrect. My haul is what's going to finally get the three of us out of here." "Should I be grateful?" he asks, brow raised. "No, I'd rather you just shut up," you mumble, walking past him and towards the staircase. <<include "1.15">>
"You say - ahh," you cut yourself off in mock realization, nodding as you hum, knowing the action is just irritating him more. "I see. I'm supposed to care about some random individuals?" He looks horrified before replying, "yes!" "Well, unfortunately," you state, clapping and getting to your feet, " I don't." You roll your eyes as you push past him and towards the staircase. <<include "1.15">>
"Regretfully, over the past year that I've been here, I've gotten to know you, Zihr. And I think you're just jealous that your little vigilante mind didn't come up with this plan before me." "No one would ever mistake you for using your mind, so it's understandable for you to be wrong in this case." "Or your pride, like always, continues to shine through and be your best trait." You huff, getting to your feet and walking towards the staircase, "either way, it's done now. Learn to live with it." <<include "1.15">>
Shaking your head, you think his words over, not understanding how someone who has seen the factions go after one another countless times still seems so blind. "I caused them to go to war? They've been at war. At most, I just handed them the match to light their individual bombs. Every innocent person you speak of has already figured that out and knows how to avoid two gangs that have been pissing each other off since the Dreads have been established." "This world you live in where nothing is your fault, is it nice?" "About as nice as the ignorant world you inhabit. And if you'll excuse me …" You walk past him and towards the stairs, "I'm going to go visit that little world." <<include "1.15">>
"Zihr, I understand why you're upset but don't simplify it like that. If you want to vilify me, then do it some other way. But don't make it seem like I went out of my way to cause a war that has never had anything to do with me." Not wishing to hear him reply, you rise and walk past him to the stairs. <<include "1.15">>
You hear the two of them speak in hushed tones or what they believe to be faint. They seem to continuously forget that you're not a regular terran, and these spots decorating your skin aren't the outcome of you getting innovative with geometrical tattoos. But you let them have it. Tonight, you just want silence. Once in your room, you change into clothes that are far more comfortable but slow at the shirt. Before you can pull it down, you turn to look at the scar that decorates your back from the cracked mirror residing in the corner. As far as scars go, <<if $scars is "few" or $scars is "several">>it's the ugliest one you have. Badass, sure, but horrendous in appearance. Your other scars healed enough to look like traditional scars, neat in an odd, macabre sense. But this scar ... it<<else>>and seeing that it's your only one, it's horrendous. Badass, sure, but for it to be your sole scar it is disturbing in appearance. It<</if>> reminds you of a chasm whose maw will never close as it forever searches for the death it was denied. The borders of the scar look like a poor, patchwork job of stitched-together flesh, even though no one has ever touched it. Flesh lapping over flesh, forming what you can only describe as knots and ridges. You pull down the shirt and push the origins of the mark from your mind as you ... [[... make sure to grab your hat.|1.15.1][$souvenir to "hat"]] [[... grab your jacket.|1.15.1][$souvenir to "jacket"]] [[... fix your necklace.|1.15.1][$souvenir to "necklace"]] [[... readjust your scarf.|1.15.1][$souvenir to "scarf"]] [[... head towards the window.|1.15.1]]
<<if $souvenir is "nothing">>... you head towards the window.<<else>>Once you have yourself sorted, you head towards the window.<</if>><<if $species is "blight">>You barely have time to set one foot out it and onto the exterior stairs when you are pushed to the side, a much larger figure pushing past you. "Seriously, $hound?" You question, watching as the hound darts up the exterior stairs then glances back at you. His tail thumps against the railing, obviously waiting for you to follow. You mumble under your breath about patience and one being calm before heading out after him.<<else>> You vault the sill and land on the degrading exterior stairs. Before you can make your way up, you hear a disappointed hum and turn to see $hound staring after you. He rests his head on the sill, and though he has no eyes to manipulate you with, the action alone sways you. "Come on, but be careful." Of course, he only hears the first part as he perks up immediately, leaping out the window and onto the rickety staircase. You cling to the railings, watching as he wastes no time covering the distance between where you stand now and your destination, the roof.<</if>> Once there, you must be careful to avoid the numerous holes and loose slabs waiting for a reason to collapse or slide off the side. Luckily, you've been here so many times that such action is second nature. Approaching your usual spot, you sit down, and jaded $markings eyes drift upwards to the sky, taking in the trepidatious dark gray as it meekly morphs with the far more bold, blood-toned red. Though the immediate area is relatively quiet, only bits of conversation from below float to your ears. In the distance, you hear the screams and shouts of those who, unfortunately, became prey to the nightbeasts. <a data-passage="1.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With the fading of the screams, it once again grows quiet, causing you to wonder if the adamant prey got away from the hunter or not. Odds aren't in favor of the chased. You sigh, relaxing again and letting your head hit the rusty slab of metal underneath you as you continue to watch the skies. You vaguely recall a scene that dates back to your instructional days. Countless corporate speakers coming in to speak and encourage you all to do your best now so that one day you can work for their company or train under them. There was no joy on the faces of your peers. The spark of interest that resided there simply due to the guest giving you all a reprieve from your studies. But the days when someone from the United Terran Space Fleet came to speak, all the children would sit up, each excited and asking a dozen different questions. You doubt they cared much about safety and protecting terran ideals in an ever-expanding universe. No, they simply wanted to see what the fuss was all about. To be where so many seem to want to go. [[You never wanted to be up here.|1.16StayDownHere][$view -=10]] [[You dreamed of the day you would be amongst the stars.|1.16GoToThem][$view +=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You admired their thirst for adventure as you would respect a zoologist for engaging with dangerous predators. This is to say that what may be a job and a dream for others does not mean the same for you. You were content with lazily peering up at the sky, coming up with a slew of 'maybes' and 'if onlys' that amount to nothing in the end. <<include "1.17">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> And you were one of them. One of those doe-eyed kids that found themselves glancing up at the sky and thinking about what rests beyond. The exploration, danger, and mystery would overwhelm your senses and keep you up all night. The trarkran only fueled your wants. Not only was there space itself to investigate but lifeforms. Entire worlds with their own native populations and cultures that were nothing like yours. You grew up on stories, but the understanding that they could be far more than idle tales is what fueled you. There's no need to flip through books and imagine when you could one day be that protagonist traveling through the stars. <<include "1.17">>
<<if hasVisited("1.16StayDownHere")>>Until the day they became 'what nows.' It all feels so far away. And the more you think about it, the more you wish it was even farther.<<else>>That is until you got up here, and now you seem to only think about the days when it was all a distant dream.<</if>> The days where everything was simpler and contained to one planet. When you were allowed to be a child. When your skin was unblemished by alien findings. Involuntarily, you growl in disgust, looking away as to not catch a glimpse of the markings that adorn your arms. While many find themselves curious or disturbed by the sight, you find it to be a reminder that you dearly hope to rid yourself of. A reminder of everything that you lost and the torture you've experienced since. Etched against your skin is something that you barely understand and brings nothing but heartache and an obdurate migraine. You'll find answers, but at what cost? Or even more, what will you gain? What will happen if the answers you receive leave you as confused as you are now? If nothing changes and ... a heavy head lands on your leg, causing you to abandon the thought. <a data-passage="1.17.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Seriously?" you ask the large, alien creature who behaves as if he has no idea what you're complaining about. He shifts and you can feel the roof creaking under his weight but it holds, of course it holds. $hound moves so that his head is pressed against your chest, pushing you gently and hoping for attention. You readily give it, using your palm against his chitinous skin. Petting him is a chore and sometimes causes blisters to form from the harsh contact, but you hardly find yourself caring. What is another blister or sore for the creature that saved your life and practically adopted you as his. This particular thought causes you to smile and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his thick neck. "At the very least," you start, "I got you out of this sucky ass deal." He makes a purring like sound, his tongue rolling out of his mouth as he relaxes in your touch. You spend a few more minutes like that, letting your mind idle as you cuddle with $hound. But, like always, reality comes crashing back in, caring little for how ready you are to face it. Sitting up, $hound moves and allows you to stretch before heading towards the edge, peering down the side of the building at the ground below. Part of you craves to simply go back and lie down, to continue staring at the sky and reflect on all that life has handed you thus far. But that thought alone causes you to bristle. You've been doing that a lot now, reflecting. And each second of it manages to piss you off in a new way. You had never been one to sit around, and whether you like it or not, your hectic life has turned idleness into an onerous chore. And so, you leave the area behind, heading down the same way you came up with $hound close behind. You now have enough funds to buy one-way tickets away from here. It's time to discuss when that will happen. Reentering the apartment, you go into the kitchen to find only Checl. She hasn't moved from where you last seen her; even the satchel stays where she had placed it. Her gaze is still on the solars that rest before her. "Come sit," she says, finally looking up, "I'll get some supplies to treat your wounds." [[“Not a kid, Checl.”|1.17NotAKid][$checl -=2]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Wanna get your hands on me?”|1.17HandsOnMe][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl -=2]]<<else>>[[“Wanna get your hands on me?”|1.17HandsOnMe][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl -=2]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“That's sweet of you.”|1.17SweetOfYou][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl +=2]]<<else>>[[“That's sweet of you.”|1.17SweetOfYou][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl +=2]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“They're bruises, not cuts.”|1.17BruisesNotCuts]] [[Silently accept.|1.17SilentlyAccept][$checl +=2]]
"I'm not a kid, Checl. I can handle my own cuts and bruises." "Is that why you picked a fight with the two most dangerous gangs in the Dreads?" "In fact, yes. Because I knew that I could handle it and had everything planned out." "Why," she pauses, shaking her head as she catches herself, "doesn't matter, huh? Sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that you have no intention of dragging down. <<include "1.18">>
"You just want to put your hands on me," you sneer as you sit beside her. She leaves to gather all the supplies, and when she returns, she places the rag and ice against your bruise gently. "Or maybe you just want me to put my hands on you," she counters. "If that was true," you answer, capturing her hand in yours, "I would just ask." <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept2")>>\ She moves away from your touch, though you note that the action feels forced. "Or just pay me, right?" "Pay you?" you ask in confusion. The bewilderment lasts for a second longer before you realize what she is referring too. "You're not going to let the Kahtea thing go, are you?" "First name basis?" "Checl." She shakes her head, turning her back to you as she says, "I'm sorry, it's just ... sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<else>>\ She pauses, and you can swear you hear her heart quickening. She whispers, "then why don't you?" You leave that question in the air, sighing as your mind reprimands you for entertaining this conversation. She grows frustrated, placing the rag back on your face but not as gently as before. "Then answer this, at least. Why? Why did you do it?" "Do what?" "You know what. This war. Was it needed?" She shakes her head and continues, "sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <</if>>\ <<include "1.18">>
"Well, isn't that sweet of you." "I'm always sweet to you," she mentions, grabbing some supplies before returning to your side. <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept2")>>"Even when you're fucking my co-workers."<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept2")>>\ "You're not going to let that go." "Would you." "Yes," I tell her, glancing over to catch her eye, "I would." <<else>>\ "You do have a tendency to look out for me." She's silent as she slowly puts the ice rag on your bruise. I place my hand over hers, "hey, I'm thankful." "$name ..." she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, "why did you do it?" "You know the answer to that." <</if>>\ "You know, sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<include "1.18">>
"They're bruises, not cuts, Checl. There's only so much patience and ice." "Well, the good thing is that I have the patience and, at the moment, the ice." She pats the seat next to her, and you take it, watching as she gathers everything and wanders back over. Gently, she places it on the side of your face as if afraid to somehow injure you further. "Are you going to at least tell me why you did it?" "Like Zihr said, for the solars. Not like they needed it." "At least tell me that you didn't mean it to end the way it did." You're silent for a while before finally sighing, "depends. Do you want me to lie to you or not?" She's quiet, the frown you spy on her face telling you precisely what she's thinking. "You know, sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<include "1.18">>
You see nothing wrong with allowing her this. If you deny her, then she'll simply worry over you in a completely different way. At least with this, both of you are getting something out of it. Quietly, you take the seat that she gestures to, watching as she goes to grab the ice and rag and then comes back to your side. Gently, she places it on the side of your face as if afraid to somehow injure you further. "Are you going to at least tell me why you did it?" "You don't have to fill the silence." "I wasn't -" she sighs, remaining quiet for a few more ticks before saying, "sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<include "1.18">>
<<if $idle is "cig">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, slipping your e-cig out of your pocket. Your finger hardly even manages to hit the 'on' button as Checl rips the object from your grasp and places it on the counter in disgust. "That thing stinks and is not good for you." "Wow, I would've never guessed," you sigh, reaching for it, but she slides it farther. You roll your eyes, grabbing it and pocketing it. At least this allows you to change the subject. <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, pulling out a piece of candy and after unwrapping it, plopping it in your mouth. "If the need arises, you'll learn more then." Her eyes grow downcast, but you clear your throat, hoping to shift the conversation to a topic that doesn't revolve around you. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, pulling your toothpick from your pocket and putting it in your mouth. "If the need arises, you'll learn more then." Her eyes grow downcast, but you clear your throat, hoping to shift the conversation to a topic that doesn't revolve around you. <<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, grabbing the container of tuft from your pocket. You're not even able to remove the top before Checl has ripped the object from your grasp, placing it on the counter in disgust. "That stuff is disgusting and not to mention horrible for you." "Wow, I would've never guessed," you sigh, reaching for it but she slides it farther. You roll your eyes, grabbing it and pocketing it. At least this allows you to change the subject. <<else>>\ "You know all that you need to know. If the need arises, you'll learn more then." Her eyes grow downcast, but you clear your throat, hoping to shift the conversation to a topic that doesn't revolve around you. <</if>>\ "We should talk about -" "Am I a friend or just an unfortunate add-on?" You raise a brow, "unfortunate add-on?" "You may forget how we met, but I haven't." You, in fact, have not. <a data-passage="1.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You feel like you're melting underneath the sun, missing the cool breeze of absolutely any other planet. Crion has one season - perpetual summer. Most days, you can stand it. Your body does a fantastic job of regulating your body temperature enough to at least function. But this day is unusually dry, and even breathing feels strenuous. An entire day's energy, gone. You thank whatever deity or speck of dust out there keeping an eye on you that Prourc has allowed you shelter under the shade of his vendor stall. While you look as if you're ready to finally sit and share a conversation with Death themself, $hound seems to be soaking in every ray. He lays a few feet away from you on his back. If he could smile, he probably would be. You take another swig of water, only to mentally cry when you feel just how empty the canteen is. Flipping it over, you watch as not even a drop of water falls out. "Prourc?" you question, wondering where you found the energy to speak. He doesn't answer, and you're far too inert to move your head to see him. "How long is the line at the well?" "Long," he answers, "if they're not walking around the market, they're standing for their turn at the well." There's no way on Crion's three moons you are standing in line with the sun trying its best to end you. Proruc adds, "I though you terrans were adaptable." "We are," you growl, remembering a sun far harsher than this one, "but it takes time. It's not immediate. This heat is worse than any other day." He squawks in agreement. Gathering your energy, you lean forward and nudge $hound's side. Instantly, he reacts, flipping over and kicking up sand as he directs his eye-less head towards you. You place the canteen near his nostril and try to remember the specific commands the two of you had agreed on to voice your question. You're still learning how to communicate with him, same as he. Thankfully, aiczeots are an intelligent species, and it doesn't take long for him to figure out what you're asking for. He flicks his tongue through the air a few times before grabbing your canteen and darting off. "Why did you send him?" Prourc asks, answering his question a tick later, "no one will dare mess with him. I see." "Unless they're hoping to escape this heat by death," you add, slowly getting to your feet. Still, you wish to follow to ensure he doesn't find himself in trouble. Anywhere else, and you wouldn't worry, but the occupants of the Dreads have known to throw logic out the door when it comes to survival.</span> <a data-passage="1.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You walk the path towards the well, an ordinarily busy area that merchants have tried to capitalize on many times since you found yourself a resident two months ago. You even remember the days when one of the gangs tried to charge people for water. It didn't end well and was never attempted again. Proving that the people of the Dreads allowed the gangs to stay simply because they had more noteworthy things to worry about. Like Prourc said, the well's line goes on forever, stretching deep into the heart of the marketplace. You stand off to the side, seeking what little shade can be found under a roof's extension. At the front of said line is $hound, his tail whipping from one side to the other and creating considerable breadth between him and all those too terrified to try and stop him. Taking your attention off of him, you find yourself drawn to the screeching of a man nearby. He set his stall up in the perfect location, and you're sure there's something to be said about exploiting a lousy situation for one's own personal gain. You look for whatever he's selling, shocked to see that it isn't a what but who. Five zeaches sit submissively on tall wooden slabs, electric cuffs extending from their necks to their wrists, and you're sure there's one chaining their ankles together as well. You live by a very specific rule: mind your business and keep it moving. In any other situation, that's precisely what you would do, but you have an extreme revulsion towards slavers. Immensely. $hound finds you, nudging the canteen in your hands, and you take it, securing it to your side as you trek towards the raza dealer.</span> [[Go straight to freeing them.|1.20StraightToFreeing][$approach +=5]] [[Call him out.|1.20CallHimOut]] [[Kindly ask that he does the right thing. Kindly.|1.20Kindly][$approach -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You're not even about to waste your breath and energy on this man. You go straight to one of the zeaches, a female with long rouge, sage, and ginger head feathers that would probably be glistening if they weren't so dirty. You bring up the abacus terminal on your wrist, <<if $smarts >=5 or $tech >=5>>and work to short out the electrical circuit. It's relatively simple. All one has to do is find the right frequency, which is never very high for disruption purposes. The cuffs glitch and open up, freeing the zeach who looks in shock from her now free wrists to you and then to the man who attempted to sell her.<<else>>you would have to short out the electrical circuit, a skill you don't possess in your arsenal. It'll be far easier to just get the keys from the seller.<</if>> "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he questions, and you watch as two figures approach you, security no doubt. The raza guard lunges towards you while the vetix tries to deal with $hound.</span> [[Get this over with. Shoot him.|1.20ShootHim][$attitude -=3; $weapons +=3]] [[Let him tire himself out, no killing.|1.20TireOut][$attitude +=3]] [[Put him down the fun yet hard way.|1.20FunAndHard]]
<span class ="flashback">"Are you serious, raza?" He spares you a glance, the heartless look escalating as he waves you away, "either buy, rent, or get lost." He snaps his fingers, and you notice a vetix and another raza take a threatening step towards you, warning you to heed one of the man's directions. "Whatever. It's hot as hell, and I got nothing to lose," you admit, patting the side of your leg, and $hound races to it, shifting into a ready-to-attack posture. The raza guard lunges towards you while the vetix tries to deal with $hound.</span> [[Get this over with. Shoot him.|1.20ShootHim][$attitude -=3; $weapons +=3]] [[Let him tire himself out, no killing.|1.20TireOut][$attitude +=3]] [[Put him down the fun yet hard way.|1.20FunAndHard]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Hey," you shout, grabbing your pistol and taking it off safety as you point it at his temple. "I'm going to ask nicely that you let them go." "This is your idea of nice?" he questions in shock, looking from your gun to you. You slam the butt of the gun down on his head, using your free hand to grab his shirt and straighten him up. "Yes. Now comply." $hound's growl-like purrs let you know what you already suspected. He has security. What slaver doesn't? The raza guard lunges towards you while the vetix tries to deal with $hound.</span> [[Get this over with. Shoot him.|1.20ShootHim][$attitude -=3; $weapons +=10]] [[Let him tire himself out, no killing.|1.20TireOut][$attitude +=3]] [[Put him down the fun yet hard way.|1.20FunAndHard]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You don't have the patience, the energy, the care, the tolerance, and any other excuse that your mind currently doesn't feel like coming up with. Mostly, the sun is your biggest enemy, and if you could shoot at it, you would. Despite seeing that you're armed and being armed himself, the guard doesn't move for his gun, possibly trying to just put you down and escort you away. One's own foolishness has little to do with you. You point your pistol at the guard, and pull the trigger before they realize that they messed up. Despite how close you are to the well, the unfolding and dangerous scene does nothing to those in line. They stand there waiting for their turn as if nothing has happened.</span> <<include "1.21">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Though you have your own thoughts about working with a slaver, you're not really one to cast judgment on the occupations of others. This man is a guard and whether or not it was the best gig he could get isn't a question you feel to ask. There's no need to kill him. He approaches and throws a few punches that you easily dodge. Every punch is deflected, and every kick is pushed away. His throws become clumsy as exhaustion begins to take hold, and his temper flares. Finally, he reaches for his gun, an act you been preparing for. You disarm him as soon as he raises it, waiting for what he'll do next. Thankfully, he simply sighs, and his legs give out as he lays there, trying to regain his breath. You're a bit shocked. You thought he'd go for longer.</span> <<include "1.21">>
<span class ="flashback">He's not reaching for his gun, so you won't go for yours. It seems that today will be another day to self-judge your physical prowess again. Those you will one day be facing off against will be at their peak; you must be sure to be at yours. Unfortunately, the raza isn't exactly the best sparring partner. His throws are clumsy, he has no sense of gravity, and his footing makes it easy to trip him. The sun is your greatest adversary, attacking you with its rays and tiring you far more than this man ever could. Once you believe you've gotten a decent workout out of this, you grab his shirt and deliver a series of punches to his face. Three see him unconscious.</span> <<include "1.21">>
<span class ="flashback">Glancing over at the vetix, you find him losing blood rapidly, whimpering as $hound stands over him. <<if $breed is "blood">>Blood aiczeots don't feed purely off of blood, but they do relish the taste. It's like a treat to them and at the moment, $hound is illustrating to all why his species is nicknamed the Vampire Hound. It's a bad way to go, having those teeth rip past flesh savagely. Still, it's his fault for thinking he could take on an aiczeots.<<elseif $breed is "blight">>Drips of acid trickle down $hound's tongue, landing on the sand and causing puffs of smoke to take to the air before disappearing a short time afterward. It's a bad way to go. You personally don't know what the acid feels like and you're fine never finding out.<<else>>Blood coats $hound's claws and jaws, proving that he simply clawed and tore the man open.<</if>> With both guards taken care of, you look back at the slaver whose now shivering in his spot. He glances from you to $hound then turns to run.</span> [[Let him go.|1.21FleeChildOfTheSun][$attitude +=3]] [[Shoot him.|1.21BangBangBangCashRegisterSound][$approach -=3; $weapons +=5]] <<if $breed is "chaos" or $breed is "spirit">>\ [[Tell your hound to stop him.|1.21WatchEmWork]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You almost itch to reach for your gun, but you refrain, watching as his figure gets farther and farther away. You're not entirely sure why you let him go. A lack of care or the understanding that more blood doesn't have to coat the sand today. Maybe just wanting to be done with this and not waste a bullet on someone who can't do anything now. Whatever reason, he can count this day as one of luck.</span> <<include "1.22">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Run. Why do they always choose to run? It's like they somehow forget that you have a ranged weapon on you. Shaking your head, you line the shot up and take it. <<if $weapons >=10>>An easy enough shot. You are used to shooting under pressure and targets armed and far smarter.<<else>>Thankfully, he hasn't gotten too far away, or you would have had to really concentrate on hitting him.<</if>></span> <<include "1.22">>
<<if $breed is "chaos">>\ <span class ="flashback">You perform a few clicks, and $hound leaps into action, chasing down his prey. As soon as $hound gets close enough, the man freezes. From afar, it looks like his entire body locks up. The hound stalks closer, circling him as you imagine every predator instinct in his head is going off. The death will be gruesome if you let $hound take care of him.</span> <<else>>\ <span class ="flashback">You perform a few clicks, and $hound flicks his tongue through the air. A low rumble starts in his throat but never makes it out. Glancing back at the fleeing raza, you now spot them now on the ground. He screams as he fights something that isn't there, kicking and throwing punches into the air. To anyone else, the man looks like he's gone crazy, haunted by ethereal demons. But the glowing slits on $hound tells you exactly what's happening. The man fights a moment longer before lying on the ground, his body shivering as he continues to beg. $hound stands, heading towards his downed prey to act on his predator instincts.</span> <</if>>\ [[Let him. The raza deserves it.|1.21Eat][$attitude -=2]] [[Take him out yourself.|1.21MercyKill][$weapons +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You do nothing to stop the hound. It's what the raza deserves after selling others for a mere profit and here, of all places. He would receive nothing but a few measly solars for the zeaches, and he probably knew it. You block out the screams, something you believe everyone else does as they continue on with their business. Once he's done, $hound trots back to your side, licking clean bloody claws.</span> <<include "1.22">>
<span class ="flashback">That kind of death is sometimes too much. You understood there's nothing you can do to stop it sometimes, but in the moments that you can, you will? You line up the shot and take it before $hound can act, watching as the man falls forward. A few flicks of his tongue and $hound realizes that his prey is no longer alive and loses interest, trotting back to your side.</span> <<include "1.22">>
<span class ="flashback">With that taken care of, you work on freeing the zeaches. You don't know what they'll do now, but you've done your good deed for the week … month, perhaps even year. Five lives have to count for something. You retrieve your canteen and take a gulp of water, preparing to head back to Prourc's shelter when $hound bristles beside you, and you hear a terrified screech behind you. Turning, <<if hasVisited("1.20StraightToFreeing")>>you see the zeach that you first freed, the one with the sage and rouge feathering.<<else>>you see a zeach following you. She's pretty, but that's not an odd trait for zeaches. Long rouge, sage, and ginger feathers decorate her head, some bent in directions you don't think zeach feathers should bend.<</if>> "Yes?" you question, patting $hound's side to calm him down. He bristles one last time before sitting with what almost sounds like a huff. "Thank you," she speaks, clearing her throat to rid herself of the fear that still clings to her vocal cords. "For freeing me." <<if $attitude >=60>>"You're welcome. Good luck out there."<<elseif $attitude <=40>>"Yea? Now go away."<<else>>"No problem. Goodbye now."<</if>> "Where am I supposed to go?" "Anywhere but here. Go join one of your newly freed zeach friends."</span> <a data-passage="1.22.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"I'd rather stick beside you." You want to growl, but any vocal emotion like that will only set $hound off. "Why?" She blinks a few times, cocking her head to the side as it's now her turn to look at you as if you're silly, "why? Did you forget that you just took down three men as if it were nothing?" "Ah," you sing, "you want protection." "I can be useful." "I'm sure you can," you laugh, "but not so much out here. Prove me wrong, but I never met a zeach that can properly hold a gun, let alone fight." Her silence tells you that she indeed can't do either. You hum, turning to walk away again, but the sound of her footsteps causes you to once again come to a stop. You don't want to threaten the woman, but you find that it may come down to it. "I can be useful." She repeats, cutting you off to stand valiantly in front of you. "What's it going to take to get you out of my face?" A lack of a reply causes you to snort. "Be useful someplace else. I don't need extra baggage." You walk away, sighing internally at the feeling of a presence behind you. Just ignore her, you tell yourself. She'll get the picture sooner or later.</span> <a data-passage="1.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
From then on, you found that the steadfast zeach did not get the picture. She scares easily, but her determination causes her to repeatedly come back. You suppose you have only yourself to blame. The most you did was threaten to shoot her without ever pointing the gun at her or even firing a warning shot. And the more she was around, the more $hound got used to her presence, and soon, so did you. Days turned to weeks, and names were exchanged. Weeks to months and vague plans and goals were shared and agreed upon. A month to a year, and still here the two of you stand, together. Your mind rejoins the now, and you look at Checl, who is patiently waiting for an answer, though you believe she has already come to terms with not receiving one. [[“We should discuss our leaving.”|1.23DiscussLeaving][$open -=5; $checl +=3]] [[“You know the answer to that.”|1.23KnowTheAnswer][$open +=5; $checl -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> Clearing your throat, you nod to the solars, "so we <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>need a few more solars to get out of here. Any idea on something quick?"<<else>>have enough to get out of here. Should we do it as soon as possible?"<</if>> <<include "1.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "It's because you've known me for so long that I expect you to know the answer to your own question. If I thought you were something to get rid of, then I would have done it long ago." You smirk, nudging her in what you hope is a playful manner, "you're way too much trouble to keep around for no reason." Her frown deepens, and though she doesn't exactly point out what you say that upsets her, her reluctance is enough to tell you that your words have done nothing but make it worse. You were never good at this. Or maybe once upon a time, you were. You had three younger siblings that constantly earned both your wrath and tenderness. The thing is, you aren't who you were decades ago. You aren't even who you were a year ago. This life demands change for one to survive. You refuse to feel bad about that. Shaking your head, you motion to the solars. "So we <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>need a few more solars to get out of here. Any idea on something quick?"<<else>>have enough to get out of here. Should we do it as soon as possible?"<</if>> <<include "1.24">>
<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>"We can head down to the markets tomorrow. Maybe Prourc will buy some things off of us." You've been meaning to visit the zeach for a while. You nod, letting her know that you agree with the plan.<<else>>"Yes. I'd like to get out of here sooner rather than later. Especially with what's happening with the gangs." You nod. It's understandable. <</if>> "I'll speak to Zihr about it all. Make sure we're all on the same page." She heads towards the door that belongs to her bedroom, pausing before going inside to turn to you. "Goodnight, $name." "Yea, goodnight." Her words echo in your head for a few minutes more. You want to argue that this is Checl. She doesn't possess a betraying bone, but that was never the problem with Checl. Another lesson you learned a long time ago relates to her situation. Simply put, one day, she will leave and won't return. Caring, getting closer, becoming familiar. Any of those situations will cause that disappearance to hurt. It will burrow so deep within your heart and being that you'll forget how to breathe and remember the days when you first learned this lesson. So, you will do the obvious thing and avoid it altogether. Getting to your feet, you walk towards your room, not sleepy but knowing that tomorrow will require you to be alert and at your best. <a data-passage="1.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> You sit on a derelict bench, your eyes on the thick, purple, and blue haze rising a few miles in the distance. The sounds of gunfire and explosions are constant, along with distant shouts and screams. Standing only a few feet away is Zihr, watching the same thing as you, and you're thankful for his silence. <<if $souvenir is "jacket">>You fiddle with the zipper of your jacket, only stopping when you think about how easy it may be to break the zipper. You're not nervous, just bored and wishing to distract yourself.<<elseif $souvenir is "necklace" or $souvenir is "scarf">>You fiddle with your $souvenir, only stopping when your brain picks up how nervous it makes you appear. You're not anxious, just bored and wishing to distract yourself.<<elseif $souvenir is "hat">>You fiddle with your hat, spinning it in your hand as well as throwing it back and forth before you finally pause, realizing how nervous it makes you seem. You're not anxious, just bored and wishing to distract yourself.<<else>><</if>> "What's going on?" Checl asks, finally coming down the ladder and rushing to your side. Neither of you answer. There's no need when the sight supplies her with all the understanding she needs. "Let's go," Zihr sighs, pushing off the building and walking down the path that leads to the <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>markets.<<else>>shuttle.<</if>> The area is war-torn, with buildings that have already been falling apart now wholly collapsed. The deeper you go, the more bodies you find littering the ground. Some of them bear gang markings, but many others don't. Nightbeasts leave no proof of their prey, but the fighting had to have happened as soon as the sun peeked into the sky for these many bodies to be strewn about. "Alright, enough." The two of you turn to look at Zihr, who glares straight at you. "You're telling me this doesn't bother you?" <<if $attitude >=60>>"Can we just continue on?"<<elseif $attitude <=40>>"You stopping bothers me. Can we continue?"<<else>>"What's your point, Zihr?"<</if>> "All of this -" "Isn't new," you growl, cutting him off, "this isn't the first gang war the Dreads have seen, and after all of this ends and goes back to normal, it won't be the last." "That's not the point," he adds. "You start things like this war and act like it was needed for the greater good, as if you did everyone a favor." "Hey, if you want to stay behind and help clean it up, be my guest. But I'm getting out of here, no matter the state. So are you coming or going?" You already know the answer, so without waiting for it, you turn and continue on. [[It does bother you.|1.25DoesBotherYou][$approach +=3]] [[You didn't mean for this, but it happened.|1.25DidntMeanForThis]] <<if not hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>[[You got what you wanted.|1.25GotWhatYouWanted][$approach -=3]]<</if>>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Your goals and ideals haven't changed but their foundations may crumble.<</notify>><</if>>\ <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> Of course it bothers you. You aren't a monster. But you also know that this isn't your fault. You don't make a habit of lying to yourself. It isn't good for a psyche already fucked over and abused. You'll gladly admit to being the catalyst. The uncontrolled variable that sparked two groups to go head to head. But that is where the blame ceases. These two groups needed a reason, and they chose you. If they cared for peace, a few shots would have been the extent. Hell, they would realize neither group is at fault and team up to come after you if peace had been on anyone's mind. <<include "1.26">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You remain dedicated to your goals and ideals but they stand on rocky ground.<</notify>><</if>>\ Zihr's issue is that he expects you to be devastated. Somewhere in the corner, sobbing over all the spilled blood and how it relates to you. Your plan didn't call for this, nor did you mean for it to happen. But it did. And that is simply all there is to it. Crying, feeling bad, and even expressing concern isn't going to change it. And if the only reason you give a voice to such emotions is to gratify Zihr, then in the end, it doesn't mean the same. <<include "1.26">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You remain dedicated to your goals and ideals.<</notify>><</if>>\ <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> This entire plan was to help you get the needed amount of solars to get out of here, and you did. You succeeded and are now one step closer to your goal. Whether that's what Zihr or anyone else wants to hear, that is what you care about. The actions of others are never your fault. You didn't make them hate each other, nor did you make them shoot each other. If blaming you makes them feel better, they can place it upon you. You don't care. You aren't about to feel bad, regardless. <<include "1.26">>
<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ Continuing, you turn one last corner and pass under a large, derelict archway until you find yourself at your destination, the marketplace. It's less crowded than usual due to the war plaguing the nearby area. You part from Zihr and Checl, weaving through the bulky crowd, finally stopping at Prourc's stall. The alien in question has his back to you, enthusiastically dealing with a potential customer. "Prourc," you greet as he turns to face you. "$name. If you have something for me, then it's the worse time." He watches as the customer drifts off and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "This gang drama is about to put you out of business?" "No one wants exotic items when they're concerned with survival." <a data-passage="1.27Market"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Continuing, you arrive at your destination and find that you aren't the only ones with the idea. Though it's an exaggeration, you feel like the entire Dreads population has gathered here, hoping to get on the lone shuttle sitting a few feet away. The doors are closed, and as you draw closer, you can see some people banging for them to open. The window tint disallows you from seeing the faces that are safe within if there is anyone within, but you're sure they all are more than grateful for the physical barrier. "What's going on here?" Checl asks aloud, regardless of the answer being obvious. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveNone")>>\ Zihr pins you to the spot with his glare. "It looks like actions have consequences." "Agreed." You turn your head towards the new voice and see a group peel themselves off from the darkness and approach you; leading them is your accomplice. "I'm surprised you're not dead," you mention, ignoring your brain as it chides you on the fact that you should've been the one to make sure of that. It's not about being nice or keeping your hands free of blood, it's about being smart. "You know, since you betrayed that gang and all." "I found a group that wants you dead just as bad as me." [[“I'm honored.”|1.27Honored][$humor +=3]] [[“And I know none of your names.”|1.27AndYouDontKnowMyName][$view +=3]] [[“You think I'm scared of you?”|1.27ScaredOfYou][$persuade -=5]] [[“And speaking is off the table?”|1.27NoSpeakingForDinna][$persuade +=5]] [[Sigh.|1.27DeepSigh][$humor -=3]] [[Stare on.|1.27StaringPastYourTomFoolery][$view -=3]] <<else>>\ Zihr pins you to the spot with his glare. "It looks like actions have consequences." Ignoring Zihr, you push past the crowd to the front where the ticket master stands. "Pushing your way to the front won't get you on that shuttle any faster," he tells you. "We have our passports and ID already. As well as the solars needed," Checl tells the man as she rejoins you. He rolls his eyes, "yea, you and every other regretful fool. Look, the shuttle will leave and come back like it always does. Be here if you want out that bad and hope you get a spot." "So, rely on luck or die?" Zihr questions, and for once, you're happy he's giving someone else the treatment. "You think I have enough care for every one of you sorry saps? I don't. You should've already tried to get out of this shit-hole. Not my fault you choose the worse possible time." There's not much more you can do or say, so you step to the side where $hound rests. You watch as your previous place is just taken by another, everyone begging the ticket master for a spot on a shuttle that is already taking off. It isn't until it's high in the sky and flying off into the distance that the once restless crowd simmers down and departs, shoulders drooping as they figure out how to live another day. You could do the same, hoping you arrive early enough to get on the shuttle, but you doubt that will change much. Now that everyone knows what a seat out of here costs, they'll do anything to grab one. <a data-passage="1.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
"I have a few weapons I can give you. Ammo included." "Deal. I'll give you ten solars." "For each?" "For all." Your eyes narrow. Prourc isn't stupid, and though he's a swindler like any of these other sellers, he knows well enough not to try and rope you into his games. That deal is preposterous, not even something the cheapest vendors here would utter. At most, they'd just tell you to leave. Perhaps he has a good reason for such a low number. But then that brings into question how much you care about that so-called good reason. Accepting is relying on Zihr and Checl to make up the difference. [[Agree to the deal.|1.27AgreeDeal][$solars +=10]] [[Time to haggle.|1.27Haggle][$solars +=25; $persuade +=10]] [[Walk away.|1.27WalkAway][$solars +=20; $persaude -=10]]
You trust Prourc. You've been doing business with the zeach since you've made the Dreads your temporary home. If ten solars is all he will offer, it'll be ten solars. You extend your hand and accept the deal. <<include "1.28Market">>
"Seriously? You want to do this?" The feathered creature shrugs his shoulder as he looks into your astonished eyes. You poke your bottom lip out in thought, glancing at the weapons in your bag and then moving to walk away. "What are you doing?" "Sweeten the deal, or I find someone who won't cheat me." "Hardly anyone is buying now." "Let's test that out then." He squints, "twenty solars. That's as high as I will go. I swear, $name." "Twenty-five." He curses, his talons puncturing the wood as he mumbles a few words that your translator can't properly catch. "Deal." You shake his hand, and though you smile, he doesn't seem as pleased as you pass the weapons over to him. <<include "1.28Market">>
You don't even possess the energy to snort at the outrageous price he offered. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders and prepare to go. It may take a bit longer, but you could even try and sell directly to people. "You think someone will offer more?" he questions. "Sweeten the deal or I find out," you growl, your lip curling as you look down your nose at the man. "Twenty solars. And I'm not going any higher than that." You're bluffing, of course. You doubt anyone will give you more. And so, you nod, shaking a scowling Prourc's hand before handing over the jars. <<include "1.28Market">>
"Now that business has been concluded. Are you going to tell me how you managed this?" "Managed what?" He gives you a knowing look, and you stutter out a gasp. "Why does everyone think this is my fault?" "In my two long years of being here, I have only met one individual with the skills to somehow manage to get two gangs to immediately go to war with one another and then walk away as if it's nothing. And ?he<<verb "'s" "'re">> standing before me." "Well, when you say it like that, I feel like I have to take responsibility." "That and I did give you the information about the caches a few weeks ago." You snort along with a chuckling Prourc and shrug your shoulders. "I needed the location and inside look at the gang's base. The only way I could do that quickly was by getting captured. Only way I could think of getting out of it was by giving them a bigger target to shoot." "You were successful at the very least?" "Of course." He nods<<if $approach >=60>>, and though there is no hint of judgement you feel a pang in your chest. You got what you wanted but innocent lives are still being lost.<<else>>, and you smile to yourself. At least one person understands that as long as your goal is met, it's a success.<</if>> "How long until you're out of here?" "Probably a couple more weeks. I need a hundred or so more solars to finally have all I need to go." "If tensions keep growing, you might not have that." He nods, "I know." When you found yourself stuck here, Prourc helped you. Of course, it wasn't for free. The two of you have always had a silent agreement that nothing you do for one another is free, but the work wasn't bad and gave you something to do. Saying you trusted him would be going against your own rules and self-placed boundaries, but you did rely on him, and he's been nothing but helpful. In a place where friends are hard to make and even harder to keep, he's been there. Every solar now counts for something, and though that's been true since the beginning, there is now a clock ticking down to worry about. The bag of solars in your hand gets heavier. [[And it'll stay that heavy.|1.28StayThatHeavy]] <<if hasVisited("1.27AgreeDeal")>>[[Offer to help him.|1.28OfferHelp]]<<else>>[[Give him back the solars.|1.28GiveBackSolars]]<</if>>
At the end of the day, it all sounds like a personal problem. He didn't ask for you to go butting into his business, and you find that the easiest way to survive and thrive is to keep your nose in your own. He has more things to sell, and he can surcharge. He'll be fine. <<include "1.29Market">>
"Look," you start, "maybe I can -" "Can do nothing," he finishes for you. His tone is stern, but the soft gratitude in his eyes tells you that he appreciates you for caring. "I can handle it myself. I'm not the only one trying to get out of here." That much is true, making your so-called trading partnership all the more strange. You take money from him so that he can make money from someone else, so you can again take that money. <<include "1.29Market">>
"Here," you start, beginning to shake the solars free from their pouch when Prourc produces a snort-like caw. "Keep your solars, $name." His tone is stern, but the soft gratitude in his eye tells you that he appreciates you for caring. "I can handle it myself. I'm not the only one trying to get out of here." That much is true, making your so-called trading partnership all the more strange. You take money from him so that he can make money from someone else, so you can again take that money. <<include "1.29Market">>
"Now, with all that settled, shoo. You'll scare off actual paying customers." "How you figure that?" The zeach stares at you, each prolonged second making you grin wider. "You have what they call ... a listening problem." You lean against the large stall, grabbing the nearest item, which happens to be a spherical device. "No, I just pay more attention to the things you don't say." "Ah, like 'continue speaking' and 'come again.'" "Exactly." "$name." "Okay." You raise your hands in surrender as you return the ball and secure your pack and solars pouch. With a simple wave goodbye, you leave Prourc to his screeching and chart a path to the edge of the markets where you agreed to meet back up with the others. From there, the sounds of fighting grow louder, and the smoke rising off buildings is easier to pinpoint. You wonder how much of the Dreads will be left standing in a week. This isn't the first gang war to ever grace the area. A few years before you arrived, one claimed the area, both gangs, and left those still alive to figure out where to go. No doubt, the same thing will happen again. And then new gangs will emerge, tempers will flare, and the Dreads will see another selfish grab for power. It will happen. The question is simply when. <a data-passage="1.30Market"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You arrive to find that only Checl has beaten you. Her back-and-forth pacing causes your eyebrow to raise as you come and stand in her path. She squawks but otherwise remains calm, patting down arm feathers that don't require the action in the first place. "I'm all over the place, I know, you don't have to say it." "Then I won't. Did you manage to sell anything?" "Yes and no," she sighs, hanging her head in what you would think is a dramatic fashion if it wasn't for whose doing it. Checl simply is the type to hang her head when she believes she has done something worthy of disappointment. "I told the merchant at least fifteen solars, but then they kept asking me questions and making me feel bad, and somewhere I agreed that five solars is enough." [[“Disappointed but not surprised.”|1.30DisappointedNotSurprised]] [[“There's haggling and then there's that.”|1.30ThatAintHaggling]] [[“So we're relying on Zihr. Great.”|1.30RelyingOnZihr]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You have to use that face more often.”|1.30SheBeCute][$checlRo -=5; $checlRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“You have to use that face more often.”|1.30SheBeCute][$checlRo -=5; $checlRoPo =+1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“It'll be fine.”|1.30BeFine]]
"Gotta say, Checl, I'm disappointed but not surprised." "I much rather you be neither," she grumbles, which has the same energy as your kind but causes her voice to go up a few octaves instead of lower. Zihr's appearance brings whatever else there is to say to an end. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sense of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"There's haggling, and then there's whatever you did. You should've just given them the items for free." "Five solars is better than nothing." You snort, "yea when you need pocket change. We need forty or fifty solars." "And if what you and Zihr's solars put together makes only thirty-five or forty-five?" You gesture to your surroundings, "I can steal the remaining amount in a second. It's not hard." She pouts, "well, you won't have to because I already have it." Zihr's appearance brings whatever else there is to say to an end. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sense of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"So we're relying on Zihr to supply most of the solars. Great." "That's not a bad thing, right?" "It's Zihr. He isn't going to shut up about how the final contribution was all because of him." "You know he only acts that way around you. When it's just him and me, he's quite humble." "Next, you're going to tell me that he's a sweetheart, and I'm just the lucky terran that gets all of his pent-up rage." She opens her mouth, but Zihr's appearance causes her mouth to close. "Here," he tells her, handing the pouch over, "and no, $name. You're just the annoying terran that grinds my nerves." "<<if $zihrRo <=50>>Keep talking sweet and I'll grind more than that," you smirk, instantly glancing away and behaving as if you said nothing. Once he seems to drop his curiosity, you hand your pouch to Checl. She adds<<else>>Good to know that our species are learning to get along." You hand over your own pouch as well, waiting for Checl to add<</if>> everything together, and with a deep exhale, she nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"Checl, Checl, Checl," you repeat as you make a tsk sound, "you gotta learn to use that pretty face of yours more often." "Stop trying to ruffle my feathers." "I'm guessing that means something else in zeach culture?" She cocks her head to the side, "terrans have no feathers. Why would it be used in your language?" "The same reason you have the phrase 'bogfish nosy' in yours." She nods in understanding, and you see signs of her feathers beginning to frazzle, "then probably." Clearing her throat, she nods to an approaching Zihr. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sense of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"It's okay, Checl. The amount Zihr and I bring will either be enough or won't, and we'll just have to pick some pockets." "I'd rather that not be our resort," she admits, and though you decide not to respond, you raise a brow. If that's her goal, you'd think she'd do something proactive to meet it instead of selling everything she had for five solars. But again, you keep it to yourself. No need to make matters worse than what they currently are. Either way, Zihr's appearance brings whatever else there is to say to an end. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sense of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"Let's not waste time then." You lead the way to the shuttle area with the others on your heels as each shout and explosion causes you to quicken your pace. Continuing, you get to your destination and find that you aren't the only ones with the idea. Though it's an exaggeration, you feel like the entire Dreads population has gathered here, hoping to get on the lone shuttle sitting a few feet away. The doors are closed, and as you draw closer, you can see some people banging for them to open. The window tint disallows you from seeing the faces that are safe within if there is anyone within, but you're sure they all are more than grateful for the physical barrier. <a data-passage="1.32Market"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You push past the crowd to the front, where the ticket master stands. "Pushing your way to the front won't get you on that shuttle any faster," he tells you. "We have our passports and ID already. As well as the solars needed," Checl tells the man as she gets to your side. He rolls his eyes, "yea, you and every other regretful fool. Look, the shuttle will leave and come back like it always does. Be here if you want out that bad and hope you get a spot." "So, rely on luck or die?" Zihr questions, and for once, you're happy he's giving someone else the treatment. "You think I have enough care for every one of you sorry saps? I don't. You should've tried to get the hell out of this shit-hole. Not my fault you choose the worse possible time." There's not much more you can do or say, so you step to the side where $hound rests. You watch as your previous place is just taken by another, everyone begging the ticket master for a spot on a shuttle that is already taking off. It isn't until it's high in the sky and flying off into the distance that the once restless crowd simmers down and departs, shoulders drooping as they figure out how to live another day. You could do the same, hoping you arrive early enough to get on the shuttle, but you doubt that will change much. Now that everyone knows what a seat out of here costs, they'll do anything to grab one. <a data-passage="1.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Oh, I'm honored. Who knew I had quite the budding fan club. Zihr, you sure you don't want to join? You may even be able to get the president's seat." "Don't flatter yourself. You're a headache but wishing you dead has never been a thought." "So sweet," you smirk, placing your attention back on the group before you. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dreamer ++</span><</if>> "And here I am, knowing none of your names. This is starting to feel awkward." Your accomplice looks at you in confusion, "you think this is a game?" "No. A game would mean that I'm having fun. I'm just annoyed now." <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
"As my grimacing friend here likes to constantly remind me, I started a gang war with no amount of sympathy or compassion. Do you really think that I'm scared of you?" "We can count that as your second mistake." "Only second? With how my day is going, I at least thought I'd be on my fifth." <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
"And I'm guessing that talking this out and coming to some kind of compromise is off the table?" "What do you think?" he growls. "You threw that in the trash when you left me on the rooftop." "With your life, I point out. I could have easily buried a bullet in your back." "And that's exactly what you should've done. Your own stupidity isn't my fault." That almost makes you snort. He speaks of stupidity when he's the one who walked straight into his own massacre, not only willingly but confidently. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> Nothing is ever simple. In fact, you would love to sit and think about when the last uncomplicated thing was. You need to reach Goal A, and the way to do that is simply by following Plan A. No need to complicate things with more plans or spacing out goals. It's there, and you reach it. Oh yes, that sounds nice. A dream that will never be a reality, but nice is nice. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You take a moment to look over each of them, hoping to spot something that will make a confrontation worthwhile. But nothing. What you see is just a bunch of solar-hungry individuals that somehow have a bone to pick with you. You look over how they carry themselves, their expressions, and even their weapons. It's always odd when someone walks towards their death cockily, primarily due to their ignorance of not knowing. They believe that numbers alone will save them; perhaps they're not wrong. Anyone can have a bad day or a lucky shot. But those are variables you can't change. Percentages far too low to so readily be willing to throw one's life away for. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
"I want my solars. And not just the ones we agreed on. All of it." "That's a big demand. I counter it with a simple, no." He motions to the seven people behind him, "you're outmanned." "Negatory. My hound here can take three of you, four on a good day. And I can handle three of you, and that's without a weapon. With a weapon, well, let's just say you're not even worth the ammo." "I want my solars," he repeats, taking a threatening step closer, and all of his friends take their guns off safety. You stare at the man, refusing to drop eye contact. <a data-passage="1.29Shuttle"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You huff to yourself. You suppose there's no way to avoid all of this, then. "Checl. Satchel." "What? $name." "Checl. Give me the satchel." You hold out your hand, waiting to feel the harsh leather. Still not breaking eye contact, you drop the satchel between your two groups. "Want it. Get it." Though the others shift, unsure if this remains a good idea, your second-long accomplice wastes no time in reaching for it. His hand barely grasps the strap when you act, surging forward and bringing your knee to his face as you pull the blade strapped to your side and plunge it into his abdomen. You roll to the side just as one of his buddies shoots at you, and thus, the area descends into chaos. People scream and shout as they run whichever way they can, trampling any that end up being unfortunate enough to fall. You head for the closest cover, which proves to be the shuttle itself. $hound is right beside you, loyal in his refusal to move but ready for you to send him out. With your back against the warmth of the metal, you bring out your pistol and check the ammo. "Fuck," Zihr growls, sliding into the spot beside you. He fires a few rounds of his own weapon before glaring at you. <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I fucked the last person who looked at me like that.”|1.29IBeFuckinHoeeeeesssssss][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“I fucked the last person who looked at me like that.”|1.29IBeFuckinHoeeeeesssssss][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“About to spill your heart out to me?”|1.29TellMeYouLoveMeZihr][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“About to spill your heart out to me?”|1.29TellMeYouLoveMeZihr][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“What!?”|1.29WhatZihrWhat]] [[“Yes I know.”|1.29YesIKnowIKnow]] [[“This isn't my fault!”|1.29NotMyFault]] [[Ignore him.|1.29IgnoreHim]]
"Careful now, Zihr," you snort, finished with the inspection process of your gun, "the last person who looked at me like that ended up with me fucking their brains out." "For once in your life, think." "Fucking doesn't require thinking." "And shut up!" he roars, but you can do nothing more than chuckle. He should make teasing him a far less fun sport or at least give you less to work with. <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
"You're looking at me like you're about to spill your heart out." "Why would I ever do such a thing?" You snort, finished with the inspection process of your gun, "you tell me. I had a feeling all that hatred was coming from a place of admiration." "Can you focus?" he hisses, and you can do nothing more than chuckle. He should make teasing him a far less fun sport or at least give you less to work with. <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
You have to do a double take at his face, and once you do, the irritation of dealing with him bubbles to the surface. "What, Zihr? What?!" "Just wondering if the brilliant $name has a plan or if this is another one of those improvising moments." "The plan is not get shot. Simple enough for you?" "More like undeveloped." <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
"Yea, yea," you snort, finishing up your gun's inspection, "I should be nicer, stop making enemies wherever I go. All of this is my fault. Every little thing in the world can be easily placed on my shoulders because it somehow has to be my fault. Does that about cover what you were going to say?" He shrugs, "you said nothing about how idiotic you are, and I do believe that is a good point to bring up." "Of course. I'll make a mental note for later." <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
You do a double take upon realizing that Zihr is both looking at you and blaming you for the events that have just occurred. You're flabbergasted, attempting to speak, but words fail to fall together coherently. "What?! This isn't my fault!" "Do you truly believe that, or is that just what you tell yourself so that you feel better?" "Explain to me how this is my fault?" "It would be easier to explain how it //isn't// your fault." <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
It tickles to know that you can be in the middle of a fight, and still, Zihr will find the time to, oh so skillfully, place the blame on your shoulders. It's not totally your fault. You didn't tell the man nor make the man choose this path. He could've accepted his fate and decided to leave it at that. But no, instead, here you stand. <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
You're unable to say or do anything more when you hear a familiar screech and glance to see Checl a few yards away. She gets your attention and points to the satchel resting where you had dropped it. Now in the dead center of your current firefight. "The satchel!" Before you can stop her, she rushes forward. "For fu- Zihr, lay down cover fire." "One of us should go grab her." "I know that." [[Grab her.|1.30GrabHer][$injury_leg to true; $attitude +=5; $checlLo +=1]] [[Tell Zihr to grab her.|1.30ZihrGrabHer]] [[Have her be bait.|1.30CheclBait][$attitude -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "You ready?" you ask Zihr, who responds with a simple nod. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you wait until the perfect moment and then charge forward. You can hear the gunfire, but you're fine as long as you're not feeling anything. You make it to Checl easily, and before she can do anything else you deem stupid, you grab and pull her towards the small box the ticket agent had once occupied. A sharp pain rides your leg, but you have no time to dwell on it and continue dragging the zeach to cover. "The hell is wrong with you?" you growl after the two of you are secure. "$name!" she shouts, covering her mouth in shock, her eyes on your pant's leg where you're sure a red splotch is present and growing. "Not the first I've gotten shot at before." "I'm so sorry," she starts to gaze around for something, continuing to whisper under her voice about how careless she is and how this is her fault. [[“Focus.”|1.30Focus][$humor -=3]] [[“It's your fault, now move on.”|1.30YourFaultKMoveOn][$checl -=3]] [[“Wasn't I the one shot?”|1.30IWasShotTho][$humor +=3]] [[“I'm okay, alright?”|1.30ImOkayAlright][$checl +=3]] [[Ignore her.|1.30IgnoringHer]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> "Hey!" you shout, going an extra step by clapping in her face. Despite how rude the action may have been, it does its job and gets her to quiet down and place her full attention on you. "You can freak out later. Right now, I need you to focus. Okay?" She blinks a few times but finally nods. "Good to hear. Now. Stay here and keep your head down and that satchel safe. Okay?" You take a peek around the corner, seeing no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
"Yes, it's your fault that I was shot. Can we move on now?" Your words seem to get through to her and snap her out of the self-pitying field trip she was putting herself through. She stiffens and gives you an agreeing nod. "Good. Now. Stay here and keep your head down and that satchel safe. Okay?" You take a peek around the corner, seeing no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Humor ++</span><</if>> "Wasn't I the one shot, or did I miss something along the way?" Checl's too confused to answer, so you continue, "because I'm fine, and you're the one whining right now." "You're right," she sighs, nodding her head in acceptance and murmuring an apology. "I know. Stay here and keep your head down and protect that satchel." She answers with firm acknowledgment as you take a peek around the corner. You see no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
"Checl," you turn to her, grabbing her chin so that she'd stop murmuring to herself and focus on you. "I'm okay. Alright?" She doesn't say or do anything for a while, finally nodding once she understands that you're not on the floor, screaming for help. "Now. Stay here and keep your head down and that satchel safe. Okay?" This time she reacts immediately, firmly agreeing to your words as you take a peek. You see no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
You leave her to whatever self-pitying moment she has decided to have at the most inopportune moment. Taking a peek around the corner, you see no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
"Zihr, do you mind?" If he does, he stays quiet about it as he readjusts his stance to allow him to push off faster. "Ready?" he asks you and you nod. He launches himself forward and simultaneously you peek out to lay down cover fire. You hear someone shout out in pain, perhaps telling you that you got one. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Ruthless ++</span><</if>> While trying to figure out which one of you should rush out to save your helpless and nonplussed friend, you notice your attackers peeking out. They realize what she's about to do, and though they don't immediately prepare to fire, you can already tell what their plan is. Your strategic mind rushes into play, breaking down every possible way it can go without giving you a headache. In essence, there are two ways this can go without counting interference from you or Zihr. One, they shoot at her, and that's it. Two, they try to use cells in a brain they have already proven they don't have and use her as a hostage. Simply getting the satchel isn't enough, especially since they could've picked it up and made a run for it before you stabbed their leader. Pride, you think to yourself and suppress a chuckle. It's always been an ally. Whether others knew it or not. "I'll get her," Zihr tells you, shifting to get ready to charge out there. You yank on his shirt, causing his balance to veer, and he sways to the side, his glare narrowing on you. "Not yet," you tell him. Despite how often you say Zihr is stupid, he's remarkably astute … for someone so stupid. It doesn't take long for him to figure out your plan, and thus comes the vocal disagreements. Thankfully, you had prepared for such a thing and were already blocking him out, your eyes fastened on the others. He'll be moving to rescue Checl again soon. By then, your plan should already go into effect. Of course, that all hinges on just how smart your assailants are. If they don't take the bait or choose to simply shoot Checl instead, then none of this will matter. You go over mental probabilities one last time, optimistic that they'll take the bait. And, as if not wishing to make you wait any longer, they do exactly what you hope. Two of them move from their spot, the others peeking out to lay down cover. At the same time, you command $hound to go. He'll easily take out the two that have left their position while you pick off the two that have shown themselves. The ringing of their screams joins the cackling fire that comes off of the shuttle. It seems no one will be leaving by shuttle anytime soon. You pocket your gun with a sigh, only coming out of your own thoughts when you hear your name. "$name?" Checl asks, gazing at you in shock and fright. "What the hell was that?" Zihr shouts through clenched teeth, looking Checl over before directing all of his ire at you. [[“Strategy?”|1.30StrategyMyDearWatson][$zihr +=3]] [[“Be more specific.”|1.30MeDontKnowWhatYouMean][$zihr -=3]] [[“I used my resources.”|1.30UseYourResourcesStudents][$zihr -=5]] [[Ignore him.|1.30IgnoringZihrTimeAgain]]
"Strategy?" you question more than answer, picking up the satchel. He points to the destroyed shuttle, "that's strategy? You destroyed our one way out of here." You glance over at it, not exactly pleased about the state of it, but you hardly consider it your only way out. <<include "1.28">>
You gaze at him, hardly having the energy or care to keep the eye contact going. "You'll have to be more specific, Zihr." "You used Checl as bait," he growls angrily, pointing to the shuttle next, "you blew up our only way out of here!" You glance over at it, not exactly pleased about the state of it, but you hardly consider it your only way out. <<include "1.28">>
You shrug, extending the action with a well-needed stretch, "I used my resources knowing what I was doing. She's still here, right?" Checl avoids eye contact with everyone, and Zihr uses that as proof that what you did is wrong. Though, you never did say it was right. "And blowing up the shuttle? Was that using your resources too?" Your eyes dash to the side, unable to miss the ablaze shuttle that sits there. You wonder if this will be pinned on the gangs as well. It fit in so well. <<include "1.28">>
Both companions knew what you did and why. Explaining yourself isn't something you care to do or feel you have time for. If they want an apology, they could ask for that instead. No guarantee they'll receive it, but it's better than skating around the edge in hopes they'll get a reason that pleases them. <<include "1.28">>
<<if hasVisited("1.30ZihrGrabHer")>>\ "$name," Checl shouts, "the shuttle. Move!" You glance at your cover and notice the back end of it on fire. Of course, you sigh. The small building where the ticket collector was is close, but the angle is a death sentence. You'll simply be waiting for someone to approach instead of taking on a more proactive shooting role. You may have a few more minutes before this thing explodes, enough time to think of a proper plan. Explosion. "Zihr!" you shout, "got any 'nades?" "One," he shouts back. One is all you need. You should've done this to start with. You time your run, and you dart out after your attackers take a break to reload or recharge. <<else>>\ "Zihr," Checl shouts, "the shuttle. Move!" You glance over at the area that was once your cover and notice the back end of it on fire. Of course, you sigh. You had hoped to not be stuck right here. Your current angle is a death sentence. You'll simply be waiting for someone to approach instead of taking on a more proactive shooting role. You may have a few more minutes before this thing explodes, enough time to think of a proper plan. Explosion. "Zihr!" you shout, "got any 'nades?" "One," he shouts back. One is all you need. You should've done this to start with. He times his run and comes to a stop in front of you. <</if>>\ "What are you thinking?" he questions, handing the grenade to you. "What do you think? I make bad guys go boom." He snorts, doubt laced into his tone, "you think your aim is that good?" <<if $aim is 10>>\ "Hell yea," you smirk, prepping it and starting the countdown process. You frown, turning towards Zihr, who simply watches you. "What's the countdown for this?" "Why didn't you ask that before now?" he shouts, his eyes wide as he glances from it to you. "I'm asking it now," you yell right back. "I don't know!" he screams, lunging for it, but you move him out of the way. Most grenades are on a five-second timer, and though there are a good number of ones that don't work on such a timer, your hand didn't wish to test that theory. Either this will work, or they will throw it back or have enough time to move. You throw it, and before it can even make an impact, it blows up. Luckily, it blows up just in time to kill all those unfortunate enough to be near it. You let out a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as the danger has passed. You get to your feet right as the shuttle explodes, and you're thrown to the ground. Your ears ring viciously, and your body hisses in pain. The sensation doesn't dim until a few minutes later, and even then, your body tells you that it may be wiser to simply stay where you are. Attempting to focus on the world around you, you notice both of your companion's ears bleeding while $hound seems completely fine. To be earless, you think. At least your assailants were dead. <<else>>\ You huff, "of course it is." You frown at your own words but don't say much more. Winding your arm back, you throw the grenade, refusing to look Zihr's way when the grenade lands by the shuttle instead. It was a bad throw. You can admit that to yourself but will never say it aloud. "Get down," Zihr growls, and you all flatten yourselves as the grenade goes off and the shuttle explodes. The ground shakes, and your ears ring viciously. The sensation doesn't dim until a few minutes later, and even then, your body tells you that it may be wiser to simply stay where you are. Attempting to focus on the world around you, you notice both of your companion's ears bleeding while $hound seems completely fine. To be earless, you think. Peeking out, you see no sight of your attackers, and though it may be dumb, this is your one chance to get the drop on them. They'll think that the shuttle blowing up has done more to hinder you, if not outright injure you. Carefully, you head over with $hound on your heels. You let out a sharp whistle to grab their attention and signal for $hound to move in. Three heads pop up, and while $hound quickly takes out one with his claws and the other with his tail, you shoot the third before they can even consider the origins of the sound. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="1.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What are we going to do now?" Checl questions, clutching the satchel's strap tightly and glancing from you to Zihr. "We're never going to get out of here." "Calm down," you smirk. Zihr raises a brow. "You smile as if something about our situation is humorous." "Don't I tell you that I always have a plan? Because I always have a plan, though not ideal." "I don't care about ideal situations. If it means we get out of this place, I'm in." Zihr's words earn a firm nod of agreement from Checl. You softly snort, wondering how long they'll have that attitude once they figure out what this plan consists of. "Then let's go." You set off towards the market; never happier to have such a suspicious mindset now. Any plan that doesn't have at least three backups was deemed as too simplistic or a failure. You lead the two to a familiar vendor stall, thankful that the person you're seeking is present. <a data-passage="1.28.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Hey Prourc," you greet<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>> for the second time that day<</if>>, getting a quick nod from him as he continues taking stock. "Still need that last hundred or so solars?" He stops, narrowing his eyes on you before glancing at your companions. "No." His feathers stand on end as he shakes his head, repeating the word over and over. "No, $name." "I don't know if you're saying no to my question or to whatever you think you know." "You can't come. Getting the IDs and passports of the guards I am bringing was headache enough. I will not delay traveling even more to get the three of you situated." "No need. We already have our IDs and passports." He narrows his eyes, wishing to ask a question that he chooses to keep to himself for now. "It's still a no. Border officers won't let this many guards in without additional incentive, and I don't have it." You take the satchel from Checl and plop it in front of him. "I also have your additional incentive." "And you're sure that satchel has the right amount of solars." "I am positive that it does." His naturally wide eyes stay narrow as he glances between the three of you, and then he sighs, gathering the satchel and weighing it. "Alright. You're in. But if those border guards don't allow you to pass, that's none of my business. Understand? You'll be on your own." [[“That's when I'm at my best.”|1.28MyBestWhenAlone]] [[“You worried?”|1.28YouWorried]] [[“Of course.”|1.28OfCourse]] [[Nod in understanding.|1.28Nod]]
You snort, leaning to the side as you give him a cocky shrug, "fine by me. That's when I'm at my best anyway." Zihr doesn't even have to speak to show his displeasure with your words. "Alright then. Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here because we're moving out as soon as I hear the last nightbeasts howl, and I'm not waiting around for you. And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
"You worried, Prourc?" you sneer, and his eyes soften for a second before it vanishes. "No," he finally answers. "Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here because we're moving out as soon as I hear the last nightbeasts howl, and I'm not waiting around for you. And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
"Of course, Prourc. I wouldn't expect anything less." He frowns at that, about to say something more, but yet again, he chooses against it. "Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here because we're moving out as soon as I hear the last nightbeasts howl, and I'm not waiting around for you. And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
You give him a simple nod, understanding and not bothering to argue, question, or tease. "Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here because we're moving out as soon as I hear the last nightbeasts howl, and I'm not waiting around for you. And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
"I did not agree to this," she frowns, and Prourc's humorous squawk tells you that he couldn't care less. "Everyone coming along is making themselves useful. You get no free ride here, so your choice." [[“He's right.”|1.29ProurcRight][$checl -=3]] [[“Leave her be, Prourc.”|1.29LeaveHerBe][$checl +=3]] [[“This should be easy for you.”|1.29YouSmart][$checl +=3]] <<if $flirt_checl>><<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I can think of a few uses.”|1.29SomeUses][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<<else>>[[“I can think of a few uses.”|1.29SomeUses][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<</if>><</if>>
"Prourc is right," you say to Checl, who simply continues to frown. You're about to add in more but find no reason to. Prourc said it all, and that was that. With that handled, the three of you move away to take care of any last-minute business you may have. <<include "1.29.1">>
"Just leave her be, Prourc." Checl gives you a thankful look, but Prourc looks like he will be doing no such thing. "Last I checked, it's my caravan. So again, you will be pulling your weight just like everyone else. Now go. I don't want to hear any of you talking about how you forgot some last-minute business." Checl frowns heavily but has nothing more to add to Prourc's declaration. With that handled, the three of you move away to take care of that last-minute business you may have. <<include "1.29.1">>
You can see just how nervous Checl is about Prourc's words, and part of you wishes to calm her down, especially when her task is not as complex as she may think. "You're one of the smartest people I know," you assure her, "this should be one of the easiest things for you." Checl's worry shifts to acceptance and gratefulness as she nods at you. With all that handled, the three of you move away to take care of any last-minute business you may have. <<include "1.29.1">>
"I can think of a few good uses," you start, scratching your <<if $beard is "none" or $beard is "nb">>chin.<<elseif $beard is "short>>stubble.<<else>>beard.<</if>> Prourc and Zihr both groan in disgust, encouraging you with both sounds and body language to shut up. Checl, on the other hand, smirks in kind. "No one is surprised that your mind is digging under the nest." "Digging under the nest?" you laugh, "no. I want to be moving through the nest." Checl lets out a squawk of laughter, and Prourc looks ready to tear out his feathers. "Go!" he shouts, and you do as he says. The three of you move away to take care of any last-minute business you may have. <a data-passage="1.29.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We could've gotten out of here if we just chose that plan originally," Zihr points out once you're away from Prourc's stand. You nod, pairing it with a nonchalant shrug. "True. But this plan also means we'll be fighting whatever the Spire throws at us. The shuttle was a longer play but safer." <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "And what are we going to do for weapons? We sold them all to get the additional solars." Though you don't answer, his words don't fall on deaf ears. He was right, and repurchasing them is no longer an option. You have an adequate blade and $hound. Both would feel like enough if it wasn't for the fact that both are close combat, and everything out in the Spires will have long-range weapons or be their most deadly up close. True, Prourc has stated that two guards are going, but they provide you with no sense of security. Not until you can see them in action. "What do you have left?" you ask Zihr, who flashes a blade you've always found highly interesting. The blade has a story, that much you know for a fact. Whether or not you will discover that story is the real question. Perhaps, if it belonged to Checl you'd have come out and simply asked. But it was Zihr, and each time you show interest in the blade, he gets not only defensive but highly possessive. Though you suppose you can't blame him, his first impression is you successfully stealing that same blade. <<else>>\ "We should stock up on ammo, somehow," Zihr suggests, currently checking his gun. "If not, we'll have to rely on blades, and I'm not sure how smart that may be." Glancing over at him, you see that he's exchanged his gun for his blade, looking it over with a critical eye. That blade never fails to draw your eye. It has a story, that much you know for a fact. Whether or not you will discover that story is the real question. Perhaps, if it belonged to Checl you'd have come out and simply asked. But it was Zihr, and each time you show interest in the blade, he gets not only defensive but highly possessive. Though you suppose you can't blame him, his first impression is you successfully stealing that same blade. <</if>>\ It was perhaps your most interesting theft so far. Successful and yet disastrous. <a data-passage="1.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You reside in the shadows, behaving like a typical Dreader whose previous night was full of disappointment or had become lost at the bottom of a bottle. At least acting like you were an average passerby was easy. When you were with the Dinami, this was an action you had learned to perfect. Observing the crowd for a time before emulating their behavior flawlessly. The only thing that worked against you was that you were a noticeable Tetigit Terran. Only a heavy dose of makeup can eliminate the $markings spots that decorate your face, neck, shoulders, and arms. Here, you get a few stray gazes and raised brows from those far too curious for their own good, but that's it. No matter who you are, it is never wise to linger on another for too long. It usually ends with a gun pointed at one's forehead or a missing solar bag. Today was an uninteresting and slow day. You sent Checl out a few times in hopes of grabbing someone's attention, but so far, you've only succeeded in cornering one person, and they weren't even worth a shove. She wished to try one last time, and you allowed it, finding that you have nothing better to do for the rest of the day. The zeach operates on the alleyway across from you, the angle allowing you to see who walks down it but making it harder for them to see you. It only takes a few minutes for another fool to test their luck, but like the other, you write them off. The day is a failure; you'd much rather wrap it up than continue trying to turn it around. Pushing yourself away from the wall, you mosey across the street and to the alleyway when you spot the foolish figure darting away with haste. Squinting, you pick up your pace until you spot a raza standing before Checl. "Are you okay?" he questions, too busy examining Checl to notice you. Ah, a hero, you think as you draw closer, doing everything you can to quiet your steps. You don't see many of those. It's almost a shame to have to rob him. Almost. "Hey!"</span> <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[He's cute.|1.30Cutie][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[He's cute.|1.30Cutie][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[I'd tap that.|1.30HitItAndQuitIt][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[I'd tap that.|1.30HitItAndQuitIt][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[KO!|1.30KO]] [[“Night, night.”|1.30NightNight]]
<span class ="flashback">He turns around, giving you a better view of the raza you're dealing with and just how attractive he is. You raise a brow as you give him a quick once over and smile in gleeful shock, "you're cute." Before he can ask or do anything, you shoot him with a stun bullet, watching as those dazzlingly auburn eyes roll up and then close. He falls to the ground, and you look over at Checl. "You think he's cute, right?" "Are we robbing him or not?" "Of course," you chuckle, dropping down to a knee to pat him down, "no one is //that// cute."</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">He turns around, giving you a better view of the raza you're dealing with and just how attractive he is. You raise a brow as you give him a quick once over and smirk, "oh yea, I'd tap that." Before he can ask or do anything, you shoot him with a stun bullet, watching as those dazzlingly auburn eyes roll up and then close. He falls to the ground, and you look over at Checl. "Like, look at that body." "Are we robbing him or not?" "Of course," you chuckle, dropping down to a knee to pat him down, "I'd rob him after I fucked him though." Checl groans.</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">You shoot him with a stun bullet as soon as he turns, watching as auburn eyes roll and then close. He falls unceremoniously to the ground, and you snort at the lump before you. "Good job, Checl." "He actually tried to save me," she informs you, and you hum in acknowledgment, dropping to a knee to pat him down. "I heard."</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">"Night, night!" you snort, hitting him with a stun bullet as soon as you say it. You watch as auburn eyes roll and then close, followed by his body falling to the ground. "Good job, Checl." "He actually tried to save me," she informs you, and you hum in acknowledgment, dropping to a knee to pat him down. "I heard."</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">"Does he have anything?" You don't verbally answer her since you're trying to figure that out for yourself. A not too shabby gun, but it'll be no use to you. So, you simply take his ammo and throw the weapon to the side. A solar pouch with thirty solars, a decent haul. But what catches your eye is a dagger fastened to his leg. It's highly intricate, so much so that you wouldn't dare presume that its origins are from the Dreads. Attempting to describe it is difficult. The complexity and beauty stand out like nothing you have seen before. The blade is a glistening black and silver with the tip and some of the marks along the fuller being a deep red. Parts of it leading to the guard seem to be another material that reminds you of leather, but upon touching it, you're assured that you're wrong. The handle is thinner than what you're used to, but the grip makes it very comfortable to hold. Which also calls to attention the weight, perfectly balanced. If it was a few inches shorter, you'd consider it a dagger and fit to replace your own. "That looks … evil," Checl states from beside you, visibly shivering. "Looks wicked," you smirk, "I don't think I'll be selling this one." "You sure that's smart?" "It'd be stupid to sell it to someone here. The price we'd get wouldn't fit the weapon." "No," Checl corrects and then motions to the downed raza, "I mean stealing it from him." "We live in the Dreads," you snort as you move to stand, "nothing we do is smart." "Come on. Let's go before Sleeping Beauty wakes up." "You truly find him attractive?" "<<if hasVisited("1.30Cutie") or hasVisited("1.30HitItAndQuitIt")>>Well, yes. But that's not why I called him that. It's cos ... I'll tell you later, come on.<<else>>No," you chuckle, "it's a terran … name … phrase. Just come on.<</if>>" And with that, you go.</span> <a data-passage="1.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">That night, you hear him before you see him. You're busy in your room when you hear an unfamiliar voice shout, "hey," followed by the screech of your zeach friend. Panic should have caused you to walk faster, but you have a feeling of precisely who it is and what he's come for. That blade is unique, and a strange power emanates from it. It takes neither a genius nor more than two minutes of examining it to figure that out. A part of you, the far more curious side, had been hoping he'd return so that you can find out more about the weapon but now that the time has come, you have high doubts he'll wish to answer anything you ask. Peeking over the side of the staircase, you see the raza in question. He stands on one side of the table with Checl on the other. "Where's my sword?" he shouts. "I didn't take it," Checl responds. "But you know who did. Talk!" You watch as he moves to the other side of the table, but your presence stops him. "You!" he shouts, and suddenly, Checl no longer exists in the room. His attention is set on you, and he readies himself to charge forward when $hound cuts him off at the base of the stairs, lowering himself into a pounce-ready position. The raza looks from the hound to you, determination still in his eyes. <<if hasVisited("1.30HitItAndQuitIt")>>\ "Hello to you too, handsome. Couldn't wait to see me again I'm guessing?" "Where's my sword." <<elseif hasVisited("1.30Cutie")>>\ "Nice to see you again, handsome." "Where's my sword." <<else>>\ "Where's my sword." <</if>>\ "How did you even find us?" Checl questions. "Your sword? Last I checked, I stole it off of you fair and square." "You hear yourself, right?" "You see yourself, right? If you think barging in and commanding me for things no longer in your possession will get you anywhere, you're wrong." He stiffens, and his eyes narrow as he looks you over, "what do you want?"</span> [[“An apology.”|1.32Apology]] [[“Ask nicely.”|1.32Nicely]] [[“Monetary compensation.”|1.32Compensation]] [[“Nothing.”|1.32Nothing]]
<span class ="flashback">"An apology." He chokes incredulously, "an apology? You can't be serious." "How bad do you want that blade?" you question, unable to keep the smirk from taking over your lips. "Enough to rather fight you for it. What am I even apologizing for? You tricked and stole from //me//." Feigning a look of confusion, you point to the door, "you barged into our home without invitation." The disbelieving look alone is almost enough for you to say you're done with your fun and that you'll return the blade. But you remain silent, awaiting the words. For a minute, you ponder if he’ll actually say it or if he'll simply do what he previously said, fight you. "I … apologize for barging into your home to take back what is rightfully mine."</span> [[Return his sword.|1.32ReturnSword]] [[Eh, not exactly what you're looking for.|1.32NopeTryAgain]]
<span class ="flashback">Content with the apology, you retrieve the sword and hand it over. You swallow the want to question him about the blade's uniqueness, instead choosing to return to Checl's side. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"You added a little bit too much to that apology. Keeping it simple works." He looks ready to fight you, a look you're becoming somewhat acquainted with, and you don't even know the raza's name. "I'm sorry." Pushing him further will begin to work against you, and you've had as much fun as possible out of this scenario. Retrieving the sword, you hand it over. You swallow the want to question him about the blade's uniqueness, instead choosing to return to Checl's side. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"I want you to ask nicely." His eyes narrow as he looks you over, glancing at Checl as if she'll provide him with an appropriate translation. Finally, he turns back to me and inquires, "you want me to ask nicely?" "That's what I said." For a minute, you ponder if he’ll actually say it or if he'll simply do what he previously said, fight you. "Please give back what is rightfully mine." "Was that so hard?" you grin, retrieving the sword and handing it over. You swallow the want to question him about the blade's uniqueness, instead choosing to return to Checl's side. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"If you think I stole it off you just to add to my personal arsenal, you'd be wrong." "So?" "So, how much is that blade worth to you?" A flash of anger appears, but $hound's growl causes him to pause and take a deep breath, settling down though the rigid body remains. "I don't have any solars." "And I don't have your blade," you grin. "$name," Checl mumbles, and you let out a tired sigh. Leave it to Checl to help you steal something, but then fold at a time like this. Luckily, you have no intention of keeping the weapon, so aside from badgering him for entertainment's sake, you have no other reason to keep him here. With a shrug, you go and retrieve the sword. As soon as it passes from your hand to his, you realize just how much of today was a waste of time. You won't even gain an answer on what makes this particular blade so unique. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">You shrug your shoulders as you go and retrieve the sword. Honestly, you just want him out of your apartment, and the quickest way to do that isn't by talking. It's just by giving him what he barged in for. You're wary about using it anyway, and selling it is out of the question. No point when you'll get a horrible price for it. At most, you want to question him about the uniqueness of the sword, but place even that to the side as you hand him the weapon. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
And unlike Checl, he left. It wasn't until a few weeks later that paths crossed, and even then, Zihr still went his way in the end. It was the third chance meeting that sealed Zihr's fate with the group. Checl had begun working at the bar, and the night in question had you unable to walk her home. When she finally made it, Zihr was by her side, and Checl herself asked if the raza wished to stay. To this day, you don't know if Zihr accepted simply because he believed it a good idea or if he merely wished to see you fuming. But here you are. <a data-passage="1.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With nothing more to do, you head back to Prourc with Checl while Zihr leaves to handle his business. Prourc darts from one place to another in a mild panic, mumbling about things he fears he'll forget. You find mild entertainment in his actions for a while before your eyes rest on the land stretching out miles before you. In a day, you will traverse said land, and soon after, you will finally be amongst the so-called peak of civilization. And from there, this yearly vacation will come to an end. Contacting the Dinami is the first thing on your list and quite possibly the only thing. It's been a year since Tsering's betrayal, and he has either spun a cluster of lies, or the Dinami have punished him. The latter is far more welcomed, but the chances are low unless the events of that cargo plane aren't as simple as you have already guessed. There are too many factors that you know nothing of. But you will find your answers soon. You close your eyes, somehow lulled to sleep by the antsy zeach a few yards away. <a data-passage="Chapter Two"><img src="images/ch_2.png" alt="Chapter Two" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $qa to 0; $round to 0>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img src="images/ch_3.png"> <span class ="flashback">You hate this planet. And yet, you can't deny its bizarre beauty. Growing up, science fiction had a knack for portraying worlds as bleak with no signs of life and sharp spires amongst desert and dreary landscapes. Those that did hold any kind of life always felt too much like home. Something you could find on your own planet if you knew where to go. It never bothered you much, but now you feel cheated of such sights. An envious feeling always lays claims to your thoughts over the views that future generations will look upon, though you suppose it wouldn't exactly be science fiction anymore. The sky looks as if someone had painted an eternal sunset. Perfectly blended peach, gold, and yellow hues swirl in the sky interrupted only by the thick clouds of smoke that seem to belong there just as much as the two suns. In all actuality, the sky and its double suns are probably the least alien thing about this planet. As the vehicle rides past the landscape, you take in the blood-red grass that leads to lean trees that curl wickedly. The water, if that is what it is, is orange and reminds you of lava while coral-appearing rocks breach the surface. Other plants are scattered about, some far harder to name and describe than others. "Look at that," Camila whispers from beside you. Initially, you believe she's pointing to the jagged mountains that remind you a bit of spears, but the angle fails to line up. You shift just enough to see that she is gesturing to dome-like architecture in the distance. They vaguely remind you of jellyfish if the heads of such creatures were made of glass and crystals. There is something ethereal and spine-chilling about them, a curious enough sight but one you know is built by those who kidnapped and enslaved you.</span> <a data-passage="3FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You settle down in your seat, paying little attention to your curious sister. Dante sits across from you, his attention solely on the floor and, as far as you have observed, never drifting to anything else. He has been quiet ever since they led you to the shuttle. Perhaps he is thinking the same as you; this is all real. You spent so much time in that cell that it began to feel surreal. The knowledge that you were not home was there, but imagination is a powerful thing when delusion and hunger have set in. And now … now here you are on a shuttle on an unknown world to who knows where. The thought alone causes your breathing to pick up. Your head grows light, so you rest it on the back of the seat. Calm down, you tell yourself. Nothing good will come from you having a heart attack. Your captors probably won't even care. They'll throw you off the vehicle and leave you there to die. How much are you even worth individually? Stop, you scream. "$name?" The feeling of a small hand gripping yours pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look over at Camila. She stares at you with her large deep brown eyes. She squeezes your hand and whispers, "I'm scared too."</span> [[“I'm here for you.”|3FBHereForYou]] [[Squeeze her hand.|3FBHand]] [[Hug her.|3FBHug]]
<span class ="flashback">"Hey," you start, running your fingers through her hair, "you don't have to be scared cos I'm right here, and I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"</span> <<include "3FB.1.1">>
<span class ="flashback">You squeeze her hand, "I'm here for you. You know that."</span> <<include "3FB.1.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"Hey, come on," you start, bringing her close and wrapping your arms around her, "I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you."</span> <<include "3FB.1.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"But what if something happens to you?" "Then I want you to run or go to Dante. But as long as I'm alive, I won't let anything happen to you." She nods, resting her head on your arm and refusing to let go. "I love you, $name." "Hey, I love you too …"</span> [[… munchkin.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "munchkin"]] [[… bug.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "bug"]] [[… estrellita.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "estrellita"]] [[… cerdita.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "cerdita"]] [[No nickname.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "Camila"]]
<span class ="flashback">"… $camilaNN. Always." You're not sure when you fell asleep. But you're awakened by the jostling of Dante, who rouses you gently, his hand on your arm. "What's going on?" you question, seeing those behind him lined up. "I think we're here." He nods, and you glance out the window to see one of those large jellyfish domes before you. Only this one is not as translucent and seems far more stable. It glimmers underneath the harsh sunlight and appears light gold, framing it perfectly with the mountainous spires far in the background and the peach sky overhead. Your heart is hammering, and only the reminder that Camila is there causes it to slow. <<if $dante_brave>>"Come on," Dante mumbles, his arm guiding both of you to the walkway and behind the slowly shortening line. Your siblings' hands keep you grounded, but each step still sees you growing in fear as you step off the shuttle and get in line alongside the others.<<else>>Dante seems just as nervous, hardly any better than you. Inhaling deeper, you straighten up and rise. "Come on," you tell them both encouragingly. You want to add something else, but your mouth is dry, and your fear hushes you. Each step sees that same dread grow as you step off the shuttle and get in line alongside the others.<</if>></span> <a data-passage="3FB.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">A trarkran with dark orange, almost auburn skin makes their way down the line. From what you see, they ask for the hand and do a scan before injecting something into your arm and then moving to the next. When they get to you, you can hardly react before they're done, moving on to Camila and then Dante. You instead stare at your arm, wondering what they just gave you. A tracker, maybe? That would make sense, right? But why would any of you run away? This species has always proven to not be allies, and this land is so alien that you're positive that you wouldn't survive a day alone. The trarkran from earlier says something in their language as they speak, messing with their chip terminal when suddenly their words make sense. "Understand?" they ask, looking at you all. "Can you all understand me?" Someone further down the line stutters out an answer, and the trarkran nods, about to say more, when three trarkrans that look significantly different than all you've seen before come towards you. They walk as if royalty and the way they carry themselves feels otherworldly. If your entire body wasn't trembling, you might just be enamored. "Naitene, are you done with the slaves yet?" one of them asks. They not only look older but carry themselves in a way that the other two do not. "I have to attend a gathering put on by Baroness Larikiias' and would like this handled by the time I return." "I have just done language tweaks, my Baroness," Naitene raises a brow, "another gladiator fight?" "Thankfully not. Otherwise, I'd stay home and entertain all of …" the Baroness points to your group, "this. Have my husband aid you." "Is he not busy in his lab?" "I don't care if he was meeting the Empress. He needs to do something helpful for once."</span> <a data-passage="3FB.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"I will ask for his aid," Naitene answers with a bow, and the Baroness seems happy enough. Her eyes glide across all of you, paying none of you any mind before she sighs and heads towards what you believe is a vehicle. It's circular and seems too small to fit one body, let alone three or more. Yet, you watch as they each get in, and it rises and shoots off at a reasonable speed. "Listen up," the one known as Naitene starts, "welcome to your new life. When Baroness Devina comes back, she'll better divvy up your new jobs but right now. You are to follow the servants and head to the bathhouse to be bathed and dressed. From here on out, you will refer to Baroness Devina as Her Guidance and her daughters, respectively, for they are Ladies. Baron Jarill will probably ask that you simply refer to him as the Baron. He is a simple man, and it is instrumental that you do not disturb him. I am your superior, but you may refer to me as Overseer Naitene. Do you all understand?" "Yes," many of you say, only later realizing your mistake and adding his previous title. He simply sighs, mumbling something to those beside him and causing them to laugh as servants step up. Your heart has found its way into your throat, and though you manage to stay upright, you feel increasingly lightheaded. You want to scream. To wake up from whatever nightmare has decided you are under its rule. You would give anything to wake up back on Terra Genesis. Home. That is all you wish for. Home.</span> <a data-passage="3.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your memory isn't as good as you believed it to be. That's the main thought working its way through your head as you sit on an already cluttered countertop, staring at the map provided to you by your chip. A few drawn X's reflect back at you, causing you to doubt yourself more with each passing minute. Your scope now covers three sectors, and whenever you check one, doubts arise that what you seek may lie in another. But when you leave to check, you find yet again that you're wrong. You close it down and close weary eyes that have grown too used to staring at crossing lines. "Long day then?" Prourc asks as he walks into the room, placing a box next to a shelf and unpacking it. "Long week." "Are they known to leave spots behind? Perhaps they destroy and move to a new location every few months." "No, they're far too prideful for that. My memory is just shoddy. I like to blame it on being kicked out of a cargo plane." "You like to blame everything on that," Prourc snorts. He shoos $hound out of his way before beginning the process of unpacking yet another box. "What do you remember?" A grimace appears. That's just it; you remember little about your time in Taouron or at least this side of the gigacity. The thing about these kinds of cities is that everything looks the same. From the multiple hubs that see constant traffic and buildings wishing to meet the sun, to the lowliest back alleys that seem to all hold the same amount of grime and secret dealings. It's one thing you miss dearly about Terra Genesis, the uniqueness. The beauty mixed in with the differing architecture where it appears two builders squabbled before realizing they could just do what they wished. But reminiscing won't help you, not now. Not when your brain can do nothing but reflect to the point that it seems to remember more of the distant past than the here and now. <a data-passage="3.00.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't remember anything," you admit, chewing on your bottom lip as you bring the map up again. You pinch to zoom out and get a better look at the remaining sectors. There are two more left, one on the opposite side of the planet and the other being the capital. Your memory may be faulty, but you'd like to say you'd remember if the safe house was in the capital. And as far as you remember, you've never been to the agricultural side of the planet. You shrink it so it's focused on Taouron and all its many X's. It has to be here; Taouron is a name you are far too familiar with. "You best start remembering something," he hums, finishing his task. The store is coming together. Most of the shelves are now filled with goods, or as Prourc likes to call them, oddities. The dusty cobwebs have been swept away, and the innumerable amounts of trash now out of sight. What is left are rows of display cases and shelves filled with different items, artifacts, and books. Each covers different things, but they all have one thing in common: all are from bygone ages and have gained the title of relic. A few you have procured for him and even had the pleasure of reciting their tales to him, an act that he seems to treasure for reasons you still don't know. But many of them were acquired through his own means, and their stories remain unknown to you. [[Though you have taken to learning some.|3.00LearnSome][$smarts +=5; $hobby_stories to true]] [[And you're fine with that.|3.00FineWithThat]]
Between searching for a buried safehouse and relearning a city you never truly cared about committing to memory, you find plenty of time to read. You find yourself engrossed with most of the tales and stories of civilizations you had no idea existed. Some are still around, and others existed deep into the years where terrans were nothing but primitive beings trying to figure out how fire works. If you had the funds, you'd probably purchase a few, but you needed every cent. "Almost there," Prourc exclaims, "want to help me with the last part?" You nod, joining him as he heads outside. He hands you a remote. "Press that, and we're in business." [[Hand it back.|3.00HandBack]] [[Press it.|3.00PressIt]]
And you're fine with it remaining that way. This is interesting, but it's not exactly up your alley. You can think of a number of other things to do in your spare time. "Almost there," Prourc exclaims, "want to help me with the last part?" You nod, joining him as he heads outside. He hands you a remote. "Press that, and we're in business." [[Hand it back.|3.00HandBack]] [[Press it.|3.00PressIt]]
Staring at the remote, you perform a subtle nod before handing it back over to Prourc. "You do the honors." He frowns but says nothing as he takes the remote and stares at the dark sign resting far above your heads. With one light push, it comes to life. The words 'Forgotten Treasures' appear back. <<include "3.01">>
You stare at the remote for a second longer before pressing the button. The sign comes to life in a dazzling show of gold and green, competing with the shops nearby without appearing too gaudy or simplistic. It draws one's attention simply by advertising the mystery of what may lie within. The words 'Forgotten Treasures' rest above you. <<include "3.01">>
"Feels unreal," he murmurs. He closes his eyes and ruffles his head feathers. "Did I ever tell you about my father?" "No." "Well, this was his dream," Prourc stops, frowning at the words before shaking his head, "no, he lived his dream. This was simply part of it. If it was up to him, he'd have a grocery store. He liked helping people." "As far as I know, you were raised in the Outlands, right?" "Right, the Withered Outlands. My ark wasn't like normal zeach arks. The same principle but the neighborhood and all the different species there played the role of caregivers and siblings. My father's store provided the area with everything they needed. He was more prone to give you something for free than you ever feel the need to steal it." Prourc's smile widens in memory. "Everyone loved him, the gangs included. They knew if anyone would stop and listen and help, my father would. He saw the entire area as his family." "And that never backfired?" "No, surprisingly. The few times someone ever did try to vandalize the place, the gangs would take care of them. Even if it happened frequently, it wouldn't have swayed my dad. He loved what he did. He loved opening his store, helping people, and closing for the day. He died doing that, and he died happy. He wanted me to leave the Outlands and have a shot at something that I dreamed of too, but I don't think he realized that seeing him open his shop with this content and wide smile every day made me want to do the same. My mother once believed that I was simply doing it because it's what he may have wanted. But it wasn't. We just shared feathers." "Your mother, is she alive?" "Yes. And I wished she had come with me, but she didn't wish to leave our ark. A feeling that I understood. Still. Perhaps one day I'll have enough solars to bring all of them to live with me." <a data-passage="3.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
He shakes his head and lets out a low, disbelieving chuckle, "it feels considerably unreal that I stand here now." Ever since you've known Prourc, you've known this was his one wish. His goal of all goals. To get somewhere important enough to share the things he's collected representing the past from dozens of different cultures. [[A goal you were almost envious of.|3.02Understand][$view -=5]] [[A goal you never wholly understood.|3.02NoUnderstand][$view +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> It's a simplistic, straightforward goal, unlike the dozens of plans you heard from children back in school. Goals screamed from children who wished to see the stars or make it big on Terra Prime. You can picture it. A child proudly stating they want to open up a small store to sell the things they thought interesting, and then their peers laughing as they ridicule them for thinking so small. Yet, you are almost envious of it. Such a lovely and wholesome thought that needed work and tender care like any other but isn't something broadly impossible. When you were younger, you never believed one's goals could be so modest. What would have changed if you did think such a thing possible? <<include "3.03">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> You would never put down another's goal; if anything, you would go without comment. Prourc's goal confused you, or at least you believed there should be more to it. Where was the excitement in opening a store when one could aim for something much bigger? Opening a store just seemed like a pit stop along the way to something grander in a world that grows every day. But again, you know that it isn't your place to judge. <<include "3.03">>
"Even more unreal that I'll have no friend to share it with." You glance over at him, and he gives you a knowing look. "No need to say goodbye if you have no wish to. But I'm not crazy enough to believe I'll be seeing you again, either." "You don't know that," you snort, "knowing me, I'll be right back here tomorrow, screaming at my abacus." He frowns as he stares at the shop's sign. "I have a feeling you won't be. This is our goodbye." You smirk, "that zeach intuition, I suppose?" He nods, turning to face you head-on. "You'll take care of yourself, won't you? As best as someone like you can." "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means trouble lusts after you. It can never have enough, and you, like an idiot, always seek to seduce it." His metaphor causes you to chuckle, but you fail to argue, for there is nothing to debate. Ever since that trarkran ship decided to descend upon your town, that statement has been accurate. Try as you might to stop it, you can't. <a data-passage="3.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The two of you remain standing there for a while until $hound opens the door to the store, stretching his four front legs and then his hind ones before coming to your side. You take his muzzle out of the satchel at your side, and though he whines at the idea, he allows you to place and buckle it. "Go," Prourc nods, an ounce of emotion in the old zeach's voice. He squeezes your shoulder but doesn't move or even spare you a glance as he stares at the sign as if attempting to spot a flaw. [[“See you later?”|3.04SeeYouLater]] [[“Take care of yourself.”|3.04TakeCare]] [[“Goodbye.”|3.04Goodbye]] [[Hug him.|3.04Hug]] [[Say nothing.|3.04SayNothing]]
You take a few steps away from him, squinting at the light, sleek, gravely sidewalks before coming to a stop. $hound looks up at you in question, and you turn. "Hey, Prourc?" He turns to you with a questioning look on his face. "See you later?" A soft, bittersweet smile appears as he nods, "see you later, $name." You're not sure whether this is really a goodbye or not. If you will never see the likes of Prourc for the rest of your life, or if circumstances and fate will bring you back together. But you sure as hell hope it does. <<include "3.05">>
Glancing at him for the last time, you nod and say, "take care of yourself." "I'll try my damndest." And with that reassurance uttered, you walk away. You were never one to guess the future and what it holds. It has made a fool of you one too many times for you to ever believe that such a talent has bestowed itself on you. But, like Prourc said, you feel you will never see him again. <<include "3.05">>
"Goodbye, Prourc," you mumble. He seems to bite down on his tongue, squinting as he examines the sign even more closely than before. Knowing that he will probably not return your farewell, you begin to walk off. Whether you see him again or not, you hope he at least understands how grateful you are in some capacity. Your past has soured the taste that all relationships leave you with, but his at least ended on a good note. No backstabbing, no doubts, and no lies. In and out. You nod to yourself as you think that. In and out. <<include "3.05">>
No words escape your mouth as you turn to Prourc and wrap your arms around him, bringing him in for a tight hug that tells him all he needs to know. His arms find their way around you instantly, and the two of you stand there for a moment longer before departing. No words are exchanged. None have to be. If this is your last time, then so be it. But as you walk away, you truly hope fate has something more planned for the two of you. <<include "3.05">>
With nothing to say, you head out. You don't look over your shoulder to get one last glance of the zeach that has helped you since you first appeared in the Outlands, nor do any sort of reply come to mind. You simply go. <<include "3.05">>
<span class ="flashback">About one year ago … As the buildings get closer and closer, it feels like your legs have simply given up. They assume that safety will be found in this place, and instead of assuring said refuge, they wait to be rescued. That thought causes you to growl, cursing at yourself to keep moving. The last thing you want to do is seem weak in a place such as this. You can feel $hound attempting to support you, but there is only so much he can do to keep you upright. The sun beats down upon you, and though your terran skin has grown hardy since your time on Crion, you can only go so long without water. How ironic for you to finally find some form of civilization, only to die at its doorstep.</span> [[Fuck this. Fuck it all.|3.05FuckThis]] [[You didn't die in the Spires. You're not dying here.|3.05DieInSpires]] [[Whatever. What does it matter?|3.05WhateverMatter]]
<span class ="flashback">With a tired huff, you stop walking and move away from $hound, letting the harsh desert ground catch you. To stay here may be the simplest and smartest thing you've done since you fell out of that plane. How much fight can one person have? Fuck it. Tsering won.</span> <<include "3.06">>
<span class ="flashback">You didn't die in the Spires and won't die here. You refuse too. This place has to have water somewhere. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been a prime area for an outpost. People wouldn't continue coming, even if stranded. They would arrive and do all that they can to leave. You can survive here. You will survive here.</span> <<include "3.06">>
<span class ="flashback">You don't care anymore. All this fighting and for what? Everyone grows tired eventually and after all you've been left to suffer through why not make this your time? A voice in the far back of your mind chooses to pipe up and inform you of the many reasons why it's not your time. Why you must keep fighting and how this isn't the place it all ends. But you wish to quiet it. You wish for everything to grow quiet.</span> <<include "3.06">>
<span class ="flashback">$hound makes a frustrated chirp and pushes you forward. It will seem that it doesn't matter what you see for your future, as $hound has his own thoughts as well. You go as far as you can, and then when legs no longer wish to work, you crawl. You pass by those who stare at you, and even some who simply go on with their day. You have already learned something about these people. This is not an unfamiliar sight. That much infuriates you more than settle nerves that should feel a sense of camaraderie of those who almost made it before you. You are not like everyone else. You have been put through far too much pain and toil to let a desert beat you. Especially a desert that fails to even nurture a candle in comparison to the distant lands where a sun is far more vicious and merciless. You gasp as lukewarm water spills over you. Moving backwards and away from the area, you glance around for the source to find a zeach standing off to the side with a bucket in hand. $hound lies nearby, seeming to be far too lazy to help. "I'm guessing you're new here," the zeach sighs, walking out of your view before returning a moment later. They rest the bucket from before in front of you and you lunge forward, lapping up the water with no restraint. "Usually people avoid dying next to merchant carts. It's bad for business."</span> [[“Where do you suggest?”|3.06Suggest][$humor +=5]] [[“You think I care?”|3.06ThinkICare][$open +=3]] [[“You got more of this?”|3.06MoreOfThis][$open -=3]] [[“My apologies.”|3.06Apologies][$humor -=5]] [[Glare at him.|3.06Glare]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"My deepest apologies," you start, sitting in an upright position, "do you have any suggestion for better places to pass out and die?" "Depends, what do you want to happen to your body?" "I don't think I want some random person toying with my limbs." "Then you should head back out and find some crystals. The nemaworms will get you." "Yea," you sigh, "I already ran into them. I'll take my chances with the random person."</span> <a data-passage="3.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You finish the water that they placed down and take a moment to breathe. Pointing to the bucket you glance up at them, "you got anymore of this?" "Yes." "Is it going to cost me?" "Perhaps. Depends on you being more an asset than a liability." "Though I rather stay the latter at the moment. I'm the former." "Then we'll be quick friends and you'll have all the water you can dream of."</span> <a data-passage="3.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Does it look like I care?" The zeach pauses, glancing over their shoulder to look you over, "you look dead. And like you could do with a nice meal and a long nap." "Nap," you snort, "might as well call it hibernation."</span> <<include "3.07">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"My apologies," you murmur, gasping as you dip your hand into the bucket and place some of the water on the back of your neck and behind your ears. For a moment, you enjoy the feeling before placing your attention back on the zeach.</span> <<include "3.07">>
<span class ="flashback">You glare at him, not even bothering to utter a response as you finish the rest of the water they placed down.</span> <<include "3.07">>
<span class ="flashback">"The name is Prourc, by the way." "My name doesn't matter." "Here it does. You'll find that out." "Look," you sigh, weakly pushing yourself to your feet, "this isn't my first rodeo, okay? I've been in shitty situations before, and I'm sure I'll be in many more after this." He nods, "well, take solace that you'll be in this shitty situation for a while." Your eyes narrow, "what do you mean?" "You'll find that getting into the Outlands is far easier than leaving it. In short, get comfortable." He nods to his cart, "I have shade and water, Nameless Wanderer. You're free to take advantage of it." "And let me guess," you chuckle, "payment is my name?" He snorts in zeach fashion, sounding much more like a coughing caw than anything else. "Do as you please," he tells you, "if you're anything like I think, then I'll know your name in a moon cycle." You laugh at that but take him up on his suggestion. You won't be here that long.</span> <a data-passage="3.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You walk the streets, only turning when your navigation chimes in to tell you that a change in direction is approaching. Taouron life travels at a speed you have grown unaccustomed to. You have been here two other times, and each time feels like a whirlwind of activity that you can never quite keep up with. People rush from one place to another, completely absorbed in their thoughts. Holo-boards light up the skies as they advertise the latest trends from brands who can foot the bill, leaving those who can't to rely mainly on the archaic idea of foot traffic. Thankfully, the capital and the bulk of the millions are further in, miles from where you are now. A swarming hive of people with their own agendas and destinations. If you think this place is frustrating, you surely aren't ready to move further in, an act you will have to do at some point. If you get the information you're looking for, then the only way off Crion is in Tebriri. How much paperwork would you need then? Would your basic information be enough to grant you an interstellar passport? Freeing yourself from the Dinami came with benefits, but like everything, a host of negative consequences also appeared. Shaking the thought from your head, you focus on your newest destination. A bit more searching has yielded yet another area that could be home to the safe house. That is, until you get there and realize that your memory has conjured up a new location for you to check. It rests only a few blocks away, so you pick up your pace, a muzzled and unhappy $hound trotting beside you. As you go, your mind wanders to a topic that you had been avoiding. Checl and Zihr and what they may be doing with their new surroundings. [[You mostly wonder about Checl.|3.08Checl]] [[You mostly wonder about Zihr.|3.08Zihr]]
You find yourself thinking about Checl and what the zeach must be doing. Unlike Zihr, she's lived in places like this. In fact, she may see this as much more minor. But she spent nearly a year in the Outlands, same as you, and some may need a readjustment period. Not to mention she's probably alone unless Zihr opted to stick with her. She's smart, and though she may be pissed with your decision to go, you have to believe she's doing fine. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> "Hurry it up, newbie, tables five and three," one of the cooks screams at her, placing down the numerous plates with its six arms before leaving her field of view. "Must be great," she mumbles, placing one table's meal on a tray, "how about you wait tables, and I cook?" A task she didn't know how to do. She rolls her eyes at the thought and heads to the first table, making sure not to bump into anyone and to ignore the feeling of eyes glued to her body. She didn't want this job, but it was the only one that hired her as quickly as it did and didn't involve her being absolutely naked. If she was in Tebriri, then more jobs would be available though the process longer, something she might've not minded if she didn't need to find a place to stay immediately. "Your food," she tells the table, "please buzz me if you need anything else." Code word for "do not need me, ever." She had worked at a restaurant only one other time. One back home when she was still amongst her ark. That one was enjoyable, a small ark-owned restaurant that gave all those her age proper work experience and even helped point them to other jobs they'd enjoy. Oh, how she missed those days. How she missed that life. Back then, she had never felt lonely, and she felt like someone to be respected and loved. Now, loneliness seems to be all she feels. The world is a cruel place, and she felt as if she stood at a crossroads between wanting to be tougher and conquer it or rushing back to where she felt the most free. She clenches her eyes closed, clearing her throat to free herself of dry eye. Thinking of $name and Zihr helped, if only a little. The anxious side of her screams about how they left her. How they turned their backs on her and showed just how much they cared. While another side simply missed the two figures she had come to call friends. As she became absorbed in the usual routine of the restaurant, delivering food and helping out those who needed her, she made herself cheerful by thinking of companions no longer at her side. Thinking about Zihr and his confident demeanor. Despite abhorring the thought of being wrong or uneducated about something, he was always interested in discovering something new. Whether because of general interest or simply due to knowing something else others couldn't use against him in the future. Either way, it always made her smile. A heart of gold wrapped around a grim facade. And then, there was $name. $name, the terran that saved her. The terran that provided her companionship even when ?he obviously rather be alone. <<if $ticketforone>>The terran that turned ?his back on her and marched into Taouron while she stayed in the desert. She's never wanted to slap someone more. The biggest issue is not knowing whether it is $name who deserved it or herself. She knew who ?he was soon after ?he saved her. ?He never hid that side from her and has always been honest. In fact, ?he had a knack for never shutting up about how much she shouldn't trust anyone, including ?him. So how dare she think ?he would put her and Zihr first? <<else>>The terran that is now gone. She misses Zihr, but she misses $name more. Being around ?him guarantees an adventure, even when that adventure involves nothing more than staring up at stars from a shambled rooftop. She never knew someone could be so mysterious<<if $open >=50>> yet so forthcoming at the same time.<<else>> and act as if such a thing came naturally.<</if>> She wanted to know everything about ?him, and in the cycle of them knowing one another, she found out so little.<</if>> <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>Her thoughts lead her to another thought, the two of them in all of their intimacy and whether it has all been her merely conjuring what she wants so desperately. She craves to be held in ?his_ arms, to rest her head on ?his_ chest and fall asleep listening to the beating of ?his_ heart. But mostly, she wants ?him to feel the same. There were always little hints and gestures on $name's part, but nothing concrete. It was as if ?he knew just how to get her feathers frazzled and mandibles trembling. She always hated the idea of zeaches being stereotyped as sexual creatures, but that stereotype laughs in her face when it comes to $name. And these thoughts … they help her none. At the end of the day, $name is gone, and her heart, though not broken, feels fragmented.<</if>> She misses ?him dearly. <a data-passage="3.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You can't help but wonder what Zihr might be up to now. He's never been anywhere but the Outlands, so you know that this is all new to him. Imagining how well he's adapting is hard, especially with how different the rules are compared to places such as the Dreads. Strict order, to the point that it breeds contempt and disillusion or gross neglect and maladministration that breeds a cue full of vigilantes. Many would place Zihr in the latter group, but the truth is that he is neither. Not yet, anyway. He's nothing but a drowning face lost in a tumultuous sea. And you can't help but wonder if he has begun to realize that. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Everything is too much. The noises are too loud, the lights too bright, the activity too chaotic. Chaotic. Yes. That is the perfect word to describe this place. It makes the alleyways of the Outlands look tame and monotonous. Zihr finds himself struggling to focus on anything, and when he does attempt, he finds himself getting in the way of someone and yelled at. The only solace he finds is atop the few roofs that he can climb. There, he finds a peculiar kind of peace in looking down upon those below. Everything still grates his nerves, but it makes him feel slightly braver amongst the chaos. That is until the lights in the distance grow brighter against the dark gray sky. They feel blinding, and the entire sight causes a tremendous sense of dread to rise in his throat. If everything here is aggravating him, what will a place like that do? What if these places are minor compared to what rests out there among the stars? Would he ever learn to cope? But that's not always what plague him. No, some nights, he finds himself missing his companions. Checl saying something encouraging, something he will likely ignore and deny, while secretly finding comfort in it. He should have told her how much he appreciated her. Whereas $name would probably sit silently. He laughs at how simply thinking about the terran causes him to want to groan. He never could understand how someone so frustrating managed to draw so much of his curiosity. Whenever $name spoke, he simply wished to tell ?him to shut up. A far better alternative than hearing whatever lucrative plan ?he devised and then arguing with ?him. <<if $ticketforone>>Though, now, Zihr wishes to do more. To deliver a much deserved punch to the terran. He knew $name was many things but leaving them behind without a second thought ... no, Zihr didn't think ?him capable of that. Perhaps it is for the best that Zihr will never see ?him again.<</if>> <<if $zihrRoPo >=2>><<if $ticketforone>>Despite the rising hatred, there is something else deep within. He<<else>>But at that moment, he<</if>> can only think about the night he saved ?him in the wagon. How close they were to one another, ?his body on top of his as he stared into ?his $markings eyes. The same eyes he found himself rolling his own at multiple times a day. Something fluttered in his chest that day, similar to now, but he shoos the feeling away. Unsure and far too afraid to face whatever it may be.<</if>> He looks upon himself as a stranger. One unwilling to learn more about this new world when his past one is still so close. How easy would it be to walk back out that gate and keep going? Or to catch a ride on a speeder or shuttle to the Outlands and live there for the remainder of his life? //The lack of answers//, a voice hisses. But it fails to provide him with any kind of confidence or reassurance. Instead, he sits and wonders what will happen if he finds all he's looking for and it's still insufficient? Doubt plagues him in a way he isn't familiar with. The more he spends time on this roof, the more nights that pass and shift into day, the more he knows it will only get worse. <a data-passage="3.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> This has to be it. A decoy door later, multiple weary glances, and a few curses, and here you are. Unlike every other door you've come across, this one bears two long stripes on the side, a basic symbol for the Dinami. A keypad rests in front of you, prompting you to open the door. You type in the door's code, possessing no energy to sigh when the keypad glows a bright red, and the numbers you typed disappear. Of course, they changed it. They constantly changed the codes, but you never had to worry about such a thing because the codes were sent and stored on your chip. Why hadn't you thought of this? So caught up with finding the safe house, you failed to consider the act of getting in. Taking a step back, you think through your newest batch of choices. [[Wait for a member.|3.09Wait]] <<if $tech >=5>>[[Hack the door.|3.09Hack]]<</if>>
Unfortunately, all of your hacking mods vanished in the fall. But, luckily, you have the skills to open it yourself. These doors are simplistic in nature; finding them is half the trouble, and the other half is getting inside. By the time a thief finds their way past both obstacles, they'll be taken down by whoever is within. That and there is little to take. Unless something drastic changed in a year, Dinami safe houses were simply a place to access a terminal and rest or avoid the law if need be. They house no secret treasures or tell-all secrets. You input a universal maintenance code and hear the popping of the interface as it unlocks. Pulling the face-off, you pull up your wrist terminal and begin to access software that can run a bypass on the decrepit security. Once that's complete, you maneuver through lines of codes until you finally find the correct access code and select it. Your hard work appears in the form of the door clicking as it unlocks, and you place everything back before heading within. "Stay here," you tell $hound, performing the appropriate click after. In the confined space of the safe house, you'd rather $hound stay out here, lest he causes more problems. <a data-passage="3.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You won't be able to get in alone, and there's no way to know if anyone is within. The chances of someone coming to let you in are low. No one is stupid enough to open the door to a random character claiming to be a member of the Dinami. Your best bet is to wait until a member leaves or enters, and you make your move. With that said, you sit off to the side and act like any other adrift drunk that found themselves met with a tough night. "$hound," you speak, clicking immediately after to get the aiczeots' attention, "go down that alley and stay until I call for you." He'll be a dead giveaway to anyone wandering around. Best to keep him out of sight. With $hound somewhat concealed, you wait. And wait. You're positive you'll fall asleep before anyone comes by, and a few times, you drift off, awoken only by the sounds of traffic and chatter from the main street. Only when you start to doubt your plan does someone come in to evaporate such worries. A shaph appears dead on their feet as they stagger towards the door. At first, you check for wounds, but after a bit more checking, you realize they're simply tired. Standing, you wonder how far you can get before they know you're there. All of you are trained to have higher awareness, but there are still times when years of training are outdone by the needs of the body. <<if $markings is "blue">>\ It'll be interesting to see if shaph's can pick up others who use their stealth trait. Utilizing the ability, you fall in line behind the alien and wait until they unlock the door. Either they are too tired to realize you're there, or the stealth ability is working. The doors part, and you wordlessly utter a prayer as you walk in right behind them. [[Take them out quietly.|3.09SnapNeck][$approach -=5]] [[Knock them unconscious.|3.09KnockOut][$approach +=5]] <<else>>\ You fall in line behind the alien and wait until they unlock the door. They must be even more tired than you initially thought if they still haven't noticed you. The doors part, and you wordlessly utter a prayer as you walk in right behind them. But before the doors close, they stop and look over their shoulder straight at you. [[Snap their neck.|3.09SnapNeck][$approach -=5]] [[Knock them out.|3.09KnockOut][$approach +=5]] <</if>>\
Already preparing for this, you grab onto their head and twist as hard as possible, hearing the snap soon after. Releasing them, their body falls to the ground, and you pull them into the hallway, allowing the doors to close. <<include "3.10">>
You move forward and deliver two quick punches to the area underneath their upper arm, hoping their clothing isn't too thick to absorb the hits. Their natural armor already makes it harder to hit the spot with the correct amount of force, and the longer they stay on their feet, the more you doubt you've gotten them. And now, with them knowing what you're doing, a second chance isn't as easy. So, you're forced to resort to a far more dirty tactic. Kicking them in the knee, you slip behind them, not caring that they grab onto you as you deliver two more hits to the neck, far more brutal than the last. They fall, and you wiggle out of a grip that still hasn't relented despite your opponent being benumbed. <a data-passage="3.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Each step you take finds your heart beating faster as you make your way down a dark, metallic corridor that leads into a low-lit room, reminding you more of a bunker. When you enter the main area, you are faced with three other Dinami members, each minding their business until they look towards you. "Who the fuck are you?" a raza questions, jumping to their feet while another lifts their gun. You have only a second to react, but that's all you need. You've been needing to discharge for a while; this happens to be the perfect time. It takes little more than a thought to cause the reaction and thus send the raging flare that originates from you outwards. <<if $markings is "gold">>You haven't truly mastered this, and you doubt you ever will, but you can use it on a level that you shouldn't. You can tell it where to go, shape it before it releases itself, but that's about it. Once the nominal orders are given, it does what it pleases.<<else>>But there's no mastery after that. The only thing you can do is summon it. Once called, it does whatever it pleases. An irrepressible kinetic force that rips through anything it pleases, finding little to challenge its might.<</if>> The departure leaves you with a lack of breath, fumbling for balance as your vision grows blurry but then corrects itself a minute later. By then, the screams have faded, and when you look at the bodies, all that is left is severely burnt, unrecognizable husks. <a data-passage="3.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Moi̥ is the official term for it, according to the trarkrans. Similar to what cosmicium did to terrans, it also altered the trarkran DNA, bestowing upon them this … ability. You recall seeing it used up close and personal many times, a wondrous force that sometimes caused you to forget how deadly it is. Used against other trarkrans isn't always detrimental and depends on the user's strength. But on almost any other species, well … the results lie before you. To call it fire or even energy would not only be wrong but deflating what exactly the ability is. A mix of both blood and fire to the point where one can't tell if it is more of one or the other. When called upon and utilized, it creates a searing force that reminds you of living water. It exhibits so many elements that it hurts your head to think about. Flows like liquid, crackles like lightning, but the heat and color are closer to fire. Regardless, the trarkrans have far more uses for it than you. The only reason you hold any of it is due to the introduction of trarkran blood into your body, enough to grant you this curse and cause confusion on any DNA test. Another negative is that you can't use this whenever you wish. Over time, it grows, reminding you of a bucket resting under a faulty leak. The bucket will fill up and, once filled up enough, must be emptied. If not, it will kill you. The Baron had to explain all the intricacies to you. Hotter planets speed it up, while colder planets will slow it down drastically to the point where one will wish for it to present itself. And if the planet is too cold, it'll freeze an individual's inside. You're not sure if this includes you. Despite what others have added, you are terran, which means your skin naturally adapts over time. Just like how you survive on hot planets, you can survive on cold ones. It's an experiment you're curious about but not too hasty to see done. <a data-passage="3.11.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With everyone out of the way, you take a look around. These safe houses are left bare by the Dinami with little care as to what their affiliates add to them. You remember one possessing a row of arcades donated (or stolen) by a member, while another had an entire wall with a fish tank. This one isn't glamorous, instead hosting a group of worn-out and frayed couches sitting around an old, rectangular battery whose job has gone from powering something to a coffee table. A melange of posters covering topics from space travel to movies, entertainment, and even someone's grocery list is metallically posted on the walls. "Just find what you're looking for," you grumble, gazing around for the terminal and finally finding it on a far wall beside a refrigerator. You grab the arm of one of the unconscious members and drag them over, allowing their abacus to log you in. "Member 3-PZ-349, welcome," the computer hums. Wasting no time, you begin typing in what you wish to find. [[Location of Baroness Trebar.|3.11InfoBaroness]] [[Information about yourself.|3.11InfoYourself]] [[Whereabouts of Tsering Arinasai.|3.11InfoTsering]]
You type in the name of the Baroness, watch as the results appear, and then click on the appropriate name. Thankfully, the bloodline is old. Otherwise, you would probably have to sort through a host of people with the same blood names. The terminal starts its search, giving you a view of the galaxy before zooming into a star system, next to a solar system, and finally to a planet. So, they remained on Miarilia after all this time. It doesn't surprise you, but you had hoped you would never need to step on that planet again. As more of a precaution than a need, you type in 'Jarill Trebar pem-rits.' It goes through the same process as before, taking you from one stage of the galaxy to the next. It finishes with the same view that you had before. It's wise to assume that the two are together, then. Makes it easier for you. <<include "3.12">>
You type in the data, curious to see what you'll find on a Dinami terminal, and sure enough, the information isn't good. You wish to say you're surprised to have a bounty on your head, but that would just be lying. It's a sizeable bounty as well, one that'll cause just about anyone to pause and consider. You look for conditions, alive for the full amount and a little less than half if they bring in a deceased body. You wish to say that the immense difference fills you with some relief, but you have no doubts that you may be more trouble alive than dead to whoever attempts to acquire you. <<include "3.12">>
You begin typing in Tsering's name when you stop, realizing that it's far easier to type in his member ID. 2-DD-281. The combination disappears a moment later as information appears. It's basic information that any Dinami operative can get their hands on, but that's about it. It hasn't occurred to you that some information would be missing unless the individual has the clearance to keep other members from doing exactly what you're doing. At most, you see that his status is active, meaning that not only is he alive, but he is still operating under the organization, and so whatever lies he told, they believed. You'll have to find another way. <<include "3.12">>
"Hey!" You're barely able to dodge out of the way as the terminal explodes in a mixed shower of sparks and plasma. Two more blasts cause you to drop to the ground and crawl. "Fuck," you shout as you take cover behind a couch. "What the fuck did you do to them?" the shooter screams. [[“Same thing I'll do to you.”|3.12SameThingWillHappenToYou][$persuade -=10]] [[“Stop shooting and I'll tell you.”|3.12StopShooting][$persuade +=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Intimidate ++</span><</if>> "The same thing I'll do to you if you don't put that gun down." "And leave myself defenseless?" "Check your dead mates; they weren't defenseless either. Unlucky for them, what I did doesn't matter if you have a gun or not. I don't even have to get up close. So, you want to comply, or do you want to experience firsthand what it feels like to be burned alive to the point where your face is no longer recognizable?" They're silent, and you silently pray that the scene is as grisly as you believe. You never liked looking at the remains of those caught up in one of your flares. Not even accounting for the smell, it is all just too horrendously revolting for you. Otherwise, your bluff won't hold much merit. "Fine, putting it down." [[Shoot them.|3.12ShootThem]] [[Let them live.|3.12LetLive]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Charm ++</span><</if>> You waste no time, hoping to catch them still in the act. Standing up, you take aim immediately. <<if $weapons >=5>>The hit lands perfectly mid-chest, killing the raza where they stand. You let out a thankful breath. You'll need to keep practicing, but it's good to know that your aim is still good.<<else>>The hit plants itself into their side, and though it doesn't kill them, it does cause them to go down, shock now spreading through their body. Not a great shot, but you hit your mark; that's good enough.<</if>> With them now out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <<include "3.13">>
You snort, "kick it over here, or I'm killing you without a second thought." "And let you kill me? I'm not stupid." "Your choice. Want to take a chance on me letting you live or risk it all?" There's silence before you hear something slide against the floor, and you move to grab the gun but stay hidden, peeking to see if they have another. Seeing that they don't, and their hands are raised in surrender, you stand. This is actually pretty pathetic for a member of the Dinami, but you suppose that not everyone can be considered elite. You surrounded yourselves with those of threat level U, forgetting that A and L exist. "Turn around." They do so, and you move to knock them out. With them out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <<include "3.13">>
"Maybe if you stop shooting, I'll tell you!" you shout back, surprised that they actually stop. You peek over the top of the couch and see them standing there, the gun still pointed at you, but it seems they're willing to hear what you have to say. You duck back down, not risking //that// much. "I found them like this," you start. "Bullshit." "Since you know what happened, maybe you should tell me the story, and I point the gun." "I received a distress beacon." "Congratulations, you can work your abacus. I did too." "Then what were you doing on the terminal?" "Attempting to find out what happened and who was here. Maybe even see if one of them had some kind of substance on them. Because this is …" you inhale, about to throw up from the smell that wafts into your nostrils. You. Hate. Acting. "… this is unholy." "If you didn't do this, you wouldn't be hiding." "You just shot a round of plasma slugs at me." You sigh, "please, think about what you're saying before you say them. If you think I trust you just because you're Dinami, then you're wrong." [[“I heard about that cargo plane.”|3.12CargoPlane][$dinami -=5]] [[“I know what the Dinami teaches.”|3.12DinamiTeaches][$dinami +=5]]
"I heard about that cargo plane incident," you tell them, wondering how long that was the topic of conversation. "What cargo plane incident?" You open your mouth, then close it, cursing lowly at how much you claim to remember when you honestly have forgotten. Dinami wouldn't speak about something like that, especially to underlings. This member probably wouldn't even know about the bounty on your head. That would be strict information for those the Dinami trust the most or any threat-level U hit-persons. You find yourself with only one choice. "How have you not heard about -" you start, stopping mid-sentence to stand up and take aim. <<if $weapons >=3>>The hit lands perfectly mid-chest, killing the raza where they stand. You let out a thankful breath. You'll need to keep practicing, but it's good to know that your aim is still good.<<else>>The hit plants itself into their side, and though it doesn't kill them, it does cause them to go down, shock now spreading through their body. Not a great shot, but you hit your mark; that's good enough.<</if>> You're not exactly happy that it came to this, but you see no other option. Now. You need to go. <a data-passage="3.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I know what the Dinami teaches, and it certainly isn't to be kind and trust your neighbor." "Then you know that I don't trust you either." "Great. We don't trust each other. Can we at least stop shooting at one another and figure this out?" They're silent, perhaps trying to find numerous solutions to the problem hiding behind the couch. This provides you with a choice as well. [[Shoot them.|3.12ShootThem2]] [[Let them live.|3.12LetLive2]]
Regardless if they're still holding their gun, they're not entirely focused on you. You won't have a better moment. Standing up, you take aim immediately. <<if $weapons >=3>>The hit lands perfectly mid-chest, killing the raza where they stand. You let out a thankful breath. You'll need to keep practicing, but it's good to know that your aim is still good.<<else>>The hit plants itself into their side, and though it doesn't kill them, it does cause them to go down, shock now spreading through their body. Not a great shot, but you hit your mark; that's good enough.<</if>> With them now out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <<include "3.13">>
//No killing//, you think to yourself, genuinely hoping it won't come to that. Knock them out. If they allow you to get that close, you'll knock them out. Perhaps next time you buy ammo, you'll invest in some shock ones. "Okay. But I check the terminal while you stand to the side." "You mean the terminal you shot?" "It may still be working." You cautiously stand and find them already moving towards you and the terminal. They nod to the corner, and you begin to move, plotting every step. It'll be a lunge, but you can do it. "If it helps," you start, passing them but continuing to walk to maintain the illusion, "check under the member code -" You make your move, finding it reasonably easy to retract the steps, grab them, and knock them out. It's a bit too easy, but you seem to constantly forget that there are two other threat levels within the Dinami. They might've been A or L, nowhere near as trained as you and others, and more like fodder so others can get the job done. With them out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <a data-passage="3.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Free of the bunker, you head to the alley to grab $hound when a figure rides up on a pursuer, the rider whipping the electric bike to the side as they look you over and reach for their gun. Wasting no time, you dart down the alleyway, hearing their mumbled shout behind you, but you don't pause. You need to become a ghost, and the only way to do that is by heading into the populace. Breaching the other side of the alley, you merge in with the people but quickly realize how foolish the plan is. There's no way someone won't spot $hound, and the way the crowd gives the two of you a berth, you're drawing even more attention. A ringing gunshot gives you an answer, and the streets erupt into chaos. Dinami never really cared about casualties, but this seems like a step too far. You understand the fear that travels through all of your blood. The fear of having to return and explain why and how someone got away and pleading for moods to be lax and punishments trivial. But shooting on a busy street? You find it hard to picture the Dinami forgiving that. <a data-passage="3.13.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
//That's if they don't return with your head//. You continue on, turning down a street and then another, hoping that the chaos of the crowd has successfully hidden you from your pursuer. Heading towards a third street, you pause when you see someone walking opposite the crowd. It could be anyone, you know that, but as soon as their eyes rest on you and $hound, you watch as they reach for something. You curse lowly as you turn and sprint away, searching for another escape path. Barely five steps are made in this new direction; when the skycar nearest you explode, your senses plunge into darkness as you try to regain footing and awareness. You hadn't been struck, but everything feels like it hurt. For a minute, you feel like you're running with the crowd. Equal parts nosy and frightened, wishing to get as far from the chaos as possible but wishing to know what is happening. In another life, one far, far away, you could've been. No knowledge of what to do as you have never been the target, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can feel $hound near you, urging you to rise, and little by little, the fragmented sounds of the burning car piece back together, joining the cacophony of screams. But there's something else. You feel hands gripping your shoulders, trying and failing to move you. [[Blast them.|3.13BlastThem]] [[Move away.|3.13MoveAway]] [[Look first.|3.13LookFirst]]
Reaching for your gun, you prepare to shoot whoever it is. Lunge, pivot, shoot, you tell yourself but hear a familiar screech telling you to stop. So familiar, in fact, that you have to look over your shoulder to make sure it's who your mind is conjuring up. You glance, surprised to see Checl there. <<include "3.14">>
You throw your hand at the person, making it clear that you want to be released as you crawl a few steps away. "Can you fight later?" a very familiar voice questions. So familiar, in fact, that you have to look over your shoulder to make sure it's who your mind is conjuring up. You glance, surprised to see Checl there. <<include "3.14">>
Knowing your luck, it'll just be a caring onlooker trying to help you escape this madness, same as them. You glance up and find yourself shocked to see Checl there. <<include "3.14">>
"Checl?" you question,<<if not hasVisited("3.13MoveAway")>> moving away and<</if>> trying to figure out what kind of concussion you may have. <<if $ticketforone>>"Shut up and come on. I can't believe I'm saving you after what you did to me and Zihr." You're not surprised that this came up, but that's not where your focus is.<<else>>"We need to hide first," she tells you, grabbing you again and directing you to a flipped skycar. You go with her, placing your backs to it before glancing over at her.<</if>> "What are you doing here?" "I work at the restaurant over there," she nods in a direction, "then suddenly I heard the gunshots and saw the explosion." "And you decided to run into the madness instead of away?" you chastise. "No. I saw $hound's tail and thought, 'why, of course it has to be $name behind all of this. Its been far too quiet. Silly me for thinking your antics would stay in the Outlands.'" [[“Alright, I get it smart ass.”|3.14SmartAss]] [[“Thanks for the save.”|3.14ThanksForSave]] [[“Antics?”|3.14Antics]] [[“I missed you.”|3.14MissedYou]] [[“I did not miss this.”|3.14DidNotMissThis]] [[Say nothing.|3.14Nothing]]
"Alright, alright, I get it, smart ass." "Let me guess, this isn't your fault?" "Oh no. This is one hundred percent my fault. No doubt about it. My real concern is finding a way out of it." "You don't have a plan?" "I'm making this all up as I go, Checl." "Have you ever thought that maybe that's the problem?" "No, I think having this conversation right now is the problem. Just shush." You turn your attention away from her and focus on your surroundings. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "3.15">>
"Thanks for the save." "Don't get - wait. Did you just thank me?" "You seem to be turning into Zihr." "Scary isn't it," she giggles, and though you smile, you force yourself to focus back on your surroundings. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "3.15">>
"Whoa," you start, stopping her and cocking your head to the side as you replay her words, "antics? I don't have antics." "What do you call all of this?" "Not antics. You think I end up in these situations because it's my favorite pastime, and I have nothing better to do?" "I don't think you want me to answer that," she huffs. You open your mouth, then close it, realizing you didn't. Instead, you rest your attention on getting out of this mess. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "3.15">>
You softly chuckle, "gosh, I missed you." Every emotion on her face shifts to shock as she stares at you, perhaps attempting to find the lie in your words. "Really?" "Focus, Checl," you snort and turn your attention away from her to figure out what to do next. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "3.15">>
You let out a long sigh, "yep. I really didn't miss this." Checl remains quiet, but her crinkled eyes and flat feathers speak everything she hasn't said. You turn your attention from her to your surroundings. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "3.15">>
Saying nothing, you focus on your surroundings and figuring out what to do next. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "3.15">>
And now, you have to worry about Checl. Glancing over at her, her words from earlier replay. There is an importance within them that has nothing to do with //your// predicament. Since freeing her in the Outlands, Checl has been by your side, even when it was unhealthy for her. You know she won't walk away willingly, especially now since you already ditched her once<<if $ticketforone>> ... twice.<<else>>.<</if>> "What do we do?" You bite the inside of your cheek, gazing at where she nodded. She can live the life she's been dreaming about in the Outlands. All those nights you spent with her and hearing about what she missed and wanted most. She won't find that with you, but maybe … maybe she can find it on her own. [[Tell her to run to the restaurant. (This will remove Checl from the main story. But you may see her again in the future.)|3.15ByeChecl][$cp to false; $checl_whereabouts to "free"]] [[Tell her to stick close. (Checl will remain a part of the main story.)|3.15HiChecl][$cp to true]]
"You are going to run back to the restaurant and take cover. Don't come back until all of this is over." "But what about you?" "This isn't your fight," you remind her, moving to get ready to run, "when I say go, you run. We'll meet back up later, alright?" She looks like she wishes to argue, but you surmise that she finds it pointless. Good, because your focus is occupied by getting off this main street and away from the crowds before more backup arrive. If they take you this easily, the Dinami may just kill you on principle, to hell with the interrogation and torture. "Go!" you shout. For a moment, you can see Checl's fleeting form in the corner of your eye. You'll meet back up with her later when everything is safe. For now, you need to focus. <<include "3.16">>
"Stay on me, okay?" "Side by side? Right behind you? A few feet?" "Let's go," you say, making a run for it while your attackers recharge or reload. <<include "3.16">>
$hound takes off in front of you, heading straight for the space between two buildings with you close behind. The area is tight, and you're forced to slow down, but the lack of bullets is reassuring for now. <<if $cp>>"Come on," you whisper to Checl once she makes it through the gap. <</if>>You stand in an intersection of alleys. Right is an automatic no since it'll just lead back to the square, meaning you can keep going straight or left. Before you can decide, shouts on your left are heard, and you surge forward just as a shot is fired. You race down alleyways and streets alike, all beginning to blur into one as you try to lose your assailants. A body slams into you, and you're knocked into the side of a building. For a minute, you're dazed, able to hear the sounds of others scrapping and $hound hissing. When the world has come back into focus, the person who attacked you lies on the ground, and Zihr stands over them. "Zihr?" you <<if $cp>>and Checl say at the same time, though her tone is full of elation, unmatched by your far more bewildered one.<<else>> question in bewilderment.<</if>> "Yea, yea," he sighs, "are you going to follow me or not?" "You speak like you have this area mapped out." He spares you a glance that answers your question. He indeed does. You suppose you shouldn't be //that// surprised; he had done the same thing in the Outlands. Though you had believed it was more due to him living there and not just because it's a quirk. <a data-passage="3.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Lead the way," you sigh, shooing him forward. He does so confidently, leading you back towards the main street. You believe freedom is finally within your grasp, even going so far as to plotting your next steps, when the view before you causes you to freeze. Law enforcement blocks the streets, shepherding frantic civilians while others arrest who you believe are Dinami members. And now, their attention is on you. "You're surrounded," they shout, guns primed and taking deadly aim. There's no more running. You raise your hands. No point in fighting now, especially when the safest place may be with them. The Dinami will have to bend over to learn where you are and go even farther in hopes of getting access to you. Your attention shifts to $hound who isn't exactly thinking the same as you. You issue commands through your clicks, hoping the aiczeots will settle before they choose it's better to shoot him. Thankfully, he does as you command, but anyone who gets close will probably set him off. "On the ground. Get on the ground," they yell, and you comply. You can hear their heavy boots growing closer, and once there, one carefully places cuffs on you while the other ensures you continue your compliance. Once on your feet, they pat you down, removing anything they find to be evidence or dangerous. <<if $idle is not "nothing">>You almost want to whimper when they grab your <<if $idle is "cig">>e-cig.<<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>tuft container.<<elseif $idle is "pick">>remaining toothpicks.<<else>>candy.<</if>> "Tranq the aiczeots," you hear one of them say. [[Let them.|3.17LetThem]] [[Stop them.|3.17StopThem]]
There's no stopping them. You can scream all day, and it'll play out the exact same, $hound tranquilized and you being loaded into that waiting transporter a few feet away. So, you allow it. Wincing when the shot hits $hound. He lets out a long hiss, taking a few steps toward the shooter before falling unconscious. At least it was fast acting, you tell yourself, refusing to look at your downed companion. The officer guiding you leads you to the waiting prison transporter, helping you in before closing the doors. <<include "3.18">>
You open your mouth and try to move towards $hound, but it matters little. The officers near you ensure you can't move, and the tranquilizer has already been shot. "Where are you taking him?" you ask. The officer guiding you refuses to answer, far more concerned with leading you to the waiting prison transporter. "Shut up and get in." <<include "3.18">>
The doors slam close, and the vehicle surges forward. Your best guess is that they'll take you to a holding area. There, you'll be given a speedy trial, then sentenced, processed, and transported to one of the prisons, maybe a camp, depending on the accusations. Everyone is silent, and it feels like a million daggers are being shot your way, but your attention is set mainly on the electric cuffs. Shabby, if you're to be honest. You've been in far worse, and if you still had all your mods, you could get out of these easily. But lamentably, you do not. Your glance finally rises, meeting that of the three Dinami members who had gotten grabbed before you arrived on the scene. Though they stare, they say nothing, at least proving to you that they're not completely stupid. Questions rest in their eyes, but they'll remain silent. They'll bite and swallow their tongues long before saying anything, just as the Dinami trained them. Trained you. A frown spreads across your face at the thought. [[They aren’t worth your life.|3.18NotWorthYourLife][$dinami -=3]] [[You as well … even now.|3.18YouAsWell][$dinami +=3]]
You always knew they weren't worth your life. You just never actually put much thought behind it. To not even act as if such a thought frightened you opened up far too many avenues for harsh retribution. So, most of your time has always been spent acting. Acting as if the Dinami scares you and that your life is theirs, more of the latter than the former. The Dinami does scare you, much in the same way an abusive parent would a child. Yet an excessive amount of hatred always managed to blur the lines and give way to a rise of, what feels like, conflicting emotions. The only time the pretense fell was in the presence of Tsering. He felt the same, if not stronger, and you never doubted that your thoughts were safe with him. You grimace and choose to end that line of thinking. Instead, you shift attention to the puerile plan developing within your mind. <<include "3.19">>
You can still feel their lessons directing you onto a path they’ve trained you to follow. How much better are you than those sitting across from you? If you were in their shoes, would you be making silent amends? There is no way out of this. They’re guilty, and on Taouron, that means years spent in a quiet cell made of hard-packed clay or going to work their hardy, unforgiving farmlands. You, on the other hand, have other plans. <<include "3.19">>
Nowadays, it seems like everything revolves around a plan … or three. Getting the solars to get out of the Outlands, how to get across the Spires, how to get into Taouron, and so on. If you are growing tired of it, you'll find no respite from it anytime soon. Until you reach your goals, plans will be made, amended, scrapped, and reconstructed. This specific plan concerns a particular clause found only on Crion, thanks to a certain bounty-hunting group calling the planet home. The Tebriri Nightwalkers are one of the most notorious government-funded bounty-hunting groups. You can think of a few other organizations that can give the Nightwalkers pause, but the keyword is few, and even then, the Nightwalkers still can hold their own. You can count how many times you've encountered them on one hand, and each time they made your job a headache. You're unable to speak for all of them, but those you ran into had always been strict on following their own tenets and code. Which mostly means that while you were sent to kill the mark, they were intent on bringing them in alive. The clause you're interested in exploiting states that criminals not guilty of heinous crimes can volunteer to take the trials to become a hunter instead of serving their sentence. Of course, there are a few rules that go along with such a decision. Otherwise, everyone would invoke it. But you are confident you'll beat the trial, become a Nightwalker, and get back on track. You don't have much choice. <a data-passage="3.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't believe this," Zihr mumbles, staring forward. That has to be a record of him remaining quiet about something he wants to castigate you on. Your mistake is that you let out a tired sigh as if inviting him to continue. "Are there even words to describe how irritating you are?" [[“Not in your limited vocabulary.”|3.20LimitedVocabulary]] [[“No one told you to come and help.”|3.20NoOneAsked]] [[“Good to see you too.”|3.20GoodToSeeYou]] [[“You want to talk about irritating?”|3.20Irritating]] [[“Aren't we supposed to be silent.”|3.20Silent]] [[“Please, Zihr, not now.”|3.20PleaseNotNow]] [[Ignore him.|3.21]]
"Probably not in your limited vocabulary," you sigh. "See. Right there. You don't take anything seriously. We're heading towards who knows where, and you're acting like there's nothing wrong." "First off, we're heading towards a holding area. That's where they take you when you've been naughty." <<include "3.21">>
"No one told you to come and help. You could've stayed at a distance and watched everything go down. Don't blame any part of this on me when it was your decision." "Does it ever strike you that I wouldn't even need to make these decisions if you just learned to stop?" "Stop what?" "Stop everything." <<include "3.21">>
"It's great seeing you too, Zihr," you mutter, rolling your eyes. <<if $ticketforone>>\ "No," he snarls, "you don't get to say that after what you did to me and Checl. Fuck you." "And yet you came to help me." <<else>>\ "See. Right there. You don't take anything seriously. We're heading towards who knows where, and you're acting like there's nothing wrong." "We're heading towards a holding area," you inform. <</if>>\ <<include "3.21">>
"You want to talk about folks being irritating?" you question with a raised brow, "I'm only surprised that you choose now to finally say something. As soon as we were told to lie on the ground, I was waiting for you to start bitching." "Bitching!" "Yes, that is what I just said," you murmur, wishing this trip would come to an end. At least then, Zihr's attention would be placed on something else. <<include "3.21">>
You look over at the two armed guards that sit on the edge of the benches near the door. Their helmets make it impossible to see their expressions or even where they're looking. "Hey," you shout, "aren't we supposed to be silent? Mind enforcing that rule?" They say and do nothing, and though you're sure you can antagonize them enough to reinforce that idea, you decide against it. <<include "3.21">>
"Zihr, please," you sigh, closing your eyes as you rest your head on the wall of the transport, "not now. I don't have the energy or mentality to do this right now." You'd like nothing more than this ride to come to an end. At least then, Zihr's attention would be placed on something else. <<include "3.21">>
<<if hasVisited("3.20NoOneAsked")>>He nods before saying, "but you're right, I<<else>>"I<</if>> shouldn't have helped. I should've just left you alone. You were doing fine on your own." "How did you even know where I was?" "I heard a commotion, and who else could it have been but the one person I know who craves chaos." <<if $cp>>\ "Told you," Checl mutters from her spot. <</if>>\ "Can we not do the whole 'jump on $name' right now? I'd appreciate it." <<if $ticketforone>>\ "You deserve far worse after what you did. Count yourself lucky that I'm wearing these cuffs right now." "I did what I had to do. The fact that you guys acted surprised should be more of the subject of conversation." "You're right," he nods, <<if $cp>>while Checl glances off to the side, <</if>>"I won't make that mistake again." There is little else to say after that, so you remain silent, gazing at nothing in particular as you patiently wait for this ride to end. <<else>>\ "Then let's talk about what you hoped for here? Was all of this needed?" Your eyes fall on the Dinami members sitting directly in front of you, gazes resting on you and waiting for an answer. You simply sigh and avert your gaze, waiting for this ride to end. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The first thing you feel is the vehicle stop, followed by someone hitting the transport doors. Both guards rise, and the doors open, letting the harsh light of Crion's evening stream in. "Let's go. You three first," the guard says to the Dinami members. They march out, and then <<if $cp>>the three of you join them<<else>>you and Zihr follow close behind<</if>>. This isn't Taouron, you think to yourself, continuing to examine your surroundings. It also isn't Tebriri, a fact you are confident in. The buildings aren't tall and extravagant enough to be the capital, nor are the streets familiar to what you remembered from your last time in the specific sector. "Move," one of the guards shouts to you, and when you look around, you realize that you are indeed behind. "Where are we?" "Phante," they tell you. Perhaps you rode through this sector, but you can't recall if you ever spent much time here. You know more about Talke, the agricultural sector, and you never even visited the area. It doesn't mean much now with you being led into the holding and trial building. You haven't been on Genesis for a while, but you wonder if it has shifted its architecture to match places like this. Back home, courtrooms and jails are separate. Out here, you learned that they are practically one and the same. For those going through a speedy trial, they send you to a holding cell. But for those facing far more complicated or extreme charges, they keep you beneath the building in holding pods. You've never been in one, but you've met plenty of Dinami who have, and they all speak of a sense of peace that comes with it. Suspended in time until they wake you for the trial. Time is rendered obsolete before they wake you, and then it slams into you like a steel wall. Thankfully, yours is simple. No one died as far as they know, and the captured Dinami members will say nothing, assuring that the happenings in the bunker stay there. Knowing the Dinami, they already sent a clean-up crew forth. Or they'll just let others clean the mess up. Both are equally possible. The guards walk you all into a holding cell and enact a barely visible force field. Once erected, they walk off, leaving the <<if $cp>>six<<else>>five<</if>> of you in total silence. [[Place your attention on Zihr.|3.22ZihrTalk]] [[Go to the Dinami members.|3.22DinamiTalk]] <<if $cp>>[[Check on Checl.|3.22CheclTalk]]<</if>>
Zihr heads straight to one of the two benches, the three Dinami members to the other<<if $cp>>, and Checl remains standing, pacing the short length of the cell<</if>>. Your attention is drawn to Zihr, though. He sits with his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes but remaining silent on his feelings. At any moment you prepare yourself to hear a rant about how this is all your fault and how you feen for chaos and trouble. Maybe, it's true. He wouldn't be the first to make the comparison and you doubt he'll be the last. Maybe there is no true reason or excuse, perhaps you simply are attracted to what it entails. "So do you have a plan for this too? Or is this that improvising phase?" he asks, finally sitting up. "I have a plan." "Mind sharing it then?" You instinctively glance over at the Dinami who are all waiting patiently, each of their eyes trained on you. "No. Not in this company anyway." "So, <<if $cp>>we're<<else>>I'm<</if>> just supposed to trust you?" "I would never presume anything more than toleration on your part. But unless you have a better idea forming in those antennas, I'm the only one being proactive." The fury that lights up his face as he stares at you almost causes you to shift uncomfortably—almost. <<if $ticketforone>>\ "Stop talking. The more you talk, the more I want to punch you for all the shit that you've done." <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Don't threaten me with a good time.”|3.22ThreatenMeWithAGoodTime][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Don't threaten me with a good time.”|3.22ThreatenMeWithAGoodTime][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>> [[“A sentiment I share.”|3.22Sentiment]] [[“Do you want me to apologize?”|3.22Apologize]] [[“Try it.”|3.22TryIt]] <<else>>\ "So, just sit here and be a good little raza, is that it?" <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Can you be a good boy?”|3.22GoodBoy][$zihrRo +=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Can you be a good boy?”|3.22GoodBoy][$zihrRo +=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Trust me.”|3.22TrustMe][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Trust me.”|3.22TrustMe][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Quiet too.”|3.22QuietToo]] [[“One should be so lucky.”|3.22ShouldBeSoLucky]] [[Ignore him.|3.22IgnoreHim]] <</if>>\
"Careful, Zihr. You'll find that I regard a threat like that as fun," you shrug, "supply some drinks and good music, and I don't see it as much of a threat at all." He scowls, "what is wrong with you?" "You can't blame me for liking a bit of rough play," you snort, leaning closer to him and causing him to automatically back away, "and I have a feeling you'd be really obedient in bed. Opposite of like you are now anyway. But still very much obedient." Despite his anger, or perhaps fueled by it, the tips of his ears turn darker, and he glares at you but with nothing more to say. //Good//, you think to yourself as you straighten and turn away. He'll probably bring up how much he wants to punch you again in the future, but that has been dealt with for now, and you have bigger things to keep your concentration. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"A sentiment that I share as well. Trust me." "Then act on it," Zihr growls, looking ready to burst up from his seat to approach you. A roll of your eyes calms him down, "to what end? I punch you, you try to land a shot, and we remain sitting here with nothing solved, just more animosity towards the other." "Try?!" "The point is," you groan, "that we can handle this when we get out of here. But this is neither the time nor place for it. So shut up and get over yourself for the time being." To further your point, you turn away from him and focus on the force field and what lies beyond. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What do you want me to do, Zihr? Apologize?" "No," he scoffs, "because I know you won't mean it." "Don't make the mistake of believing that you know me so well that you can say that," you say in an even tone. Perhaps he's shocked that you answered in such a way, or he may just have no good comeback. For whatever reason, he remains silent and seems to allow the moment to pass. You're not sorry for what you did. That much you know and have come to terms with. You saw a way to further your goal, so you took it. Never will you be sorry for that. But you are sorry that it happened to them. The memory of how you ended up in the Outlands comes back to you. It seems this is becoming a habit of yours. And that is where you leave that thought. No sense in contemplating what you do not wish to change, especially now. Other things deserve your attention. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"How about you stop saying how bad you want to do it and just do it already. But it won't be given to you freely. If you want it so bad, then your lazy ass can work for it." <<if $cp>>\ "Understood," he growls, getting to his feet just as Checl finds her way between the two of you. "Stop it!" she shouts, "you're both acting like hatchlings." "Do you forget what ?he did to us outside the wall?" Zihr asks. "Of course not, but can we act like we didn't see it coming?" You frown, not knowing how to take that part exactly. "No. I didn't," Zihr's gaze rises to meet you, "I knew ?he <<verb "was">> as ass, but I didn't figure ?him to be a kursur." Despite your chip being unable to translate the word, you know exactly what he says and what it means. You almost push Checl out of the way to grab him, your anger involuntarily calling upon a mix of fire and blood that should be resting. //Calm down before you bring this cell down//. Instead of continuing this pointless argument, you turn and place your attention on the force field. You know this isn't the end, but you will put it to the side for now. <<else>>\ "Understood," he growls, getting to his feet and approaching. He winds up, and you prepare a counter right as both of your cuffs spark to life and send a quick electric jolt through your body. You're not caught off guard as much as Zihr is. At most, you forgot this to be a function. "Knock it off, both of you," a guard shouts, "that's your only warning." Fighting Zihr in here will just make matters worse out there. There are only so many misdemeanors one can have before they automatically elevate it up to a petty felony. Then, you're back to the drawing board, only the board has become much smaller in size. Giving him one last warning glare, you turn and focus on the force field. You know this isn't the end, but you will place it to the side for now. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
He probably doesn't understand half the things he says and how he sets himself up for responses like yours. Luckily, you're here to instruct him. "That depends," you smirk, leaning on the wall near the bench, "can you be a good boy and do what I say?" "What do I look like?" "Not a good boy," you bellow out, enjoying this innocent—on his part anyway—back and forth. <<if $cp>>Checl lets out a lengthy sigh that grabs Zihr's attention, finally understanding that something is wrong and he's being made the joke of it.<<else>>One of the Dinami members lets out a low chuckle and murmurs something under their voice, gazing at Zihr to make it clear that he is the object of their ridicule.<</if>> "What?" he questions, glancing between the two of you. You almost wish to reach out and grab one of his bouncy curls, twirling it around your finger and pulling just hard enough to regain his focus. But something inside you not only chides you on the thought but also warns you to curb your tone and behavior. How easy would it be to let your inhibitions collapse and soak in the moment of being in his company? You never believed Zihr to be unattractive; quite the opposite. If anything, his personality is what puts you off, and even then, he still has a couple of golden traits and strengths that keep you invested. //Stop it//, you mentally think, pushing yourself off the wall and away from the still befuddled raza. Drop it and focus. Drop it … and focus. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"No," you sigh, "I would never expect you capable of that." Before he can get in another statement, you continue, "but I do ask that you trust me. Even if you think all of this is just to serve myself. Trust that I will get us out of here, even if for my own sake." "Is it?" "What?" "To serve yourself? Or do you care about getting someone other than yourself out?" "I know you have this preconceived idea of me being self-serving, and maybe you're right. But I don't lead other people into my mess and have them expect me to leave them. That's not how I do things." "At least you admit your part in all this," he says softly, "that's something at the very least." "Zihr …" your mouth closes as a dozen words come to mind, but your brain filters each out, tossing them to the side like pests. What can you say to get him to realize that hurting him has never been your intention, even though you keep doing it? Maybe the simple truth is that you are as self-serving as everyone states. You have one goal: to get what you want; damn those who stand in your way. You've practiced this for so long that it's odd to think that one person may have shifted your feelings on the matter. No, it's not strange; it's dangerous. You never complete what you say, taking your attention off him and placing it on the force field and what lies beyond. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Quiet as well. You can't forget about being quiet. So quiet, in fact, that most will forget you're even there." "Fuck you." "Such vulgarity," you tease with a smirk, ending the conversation there primarily due to no longer caring to continue it. Arguing with Zihr feels more like a continuous cycle than something that will find a conclusion. <<include "3.23">>
You snort, turning your back to him and placing it on the force field, "one should be so lucky." Zihr will blame you simply because that is what he does, and you will work to get you all out of here. You'd be interested if you got some kind of apology afterward. Highly unlikely. <<include "3.23">>
There's not much left to say to him, or at least anything worthwhile that will see him on your side. What you must focus on is what is to come. And so, your attention drifts to the force field and all that lies beyond. <<include "3.23">>
"What's going to happen to us?" Checl whispers, her eyes widening in fear as you move closer. "We'll be given a speedy trial," you tell her, "they'll review our crimes and then render judgment." "But what about innocence?" You swallow a chuckle, gazing from her to everyone else in the cell. "Which of us do you believe to be innocent?" "They must prove it," she argues. "They have a thousand cameras around the city," you remind her, "they have all the proof they need. Just be happy we did misdemeanors at best." "This is how this all ends," Checl mumbles, her hands hovering inches from the force field, "we'll be sentenced and go to prison." "Checl," you sigh, hoping to stop her there. "And when we get out, that'll be on our record. A record all employees will have access to, and it'll never go away. It'll be like we're branded." "Checl." "What job can I even find with -" <a data-passage="3.22.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Checl!" you shout, <<if $checl_touch>>grabbing her arms to focus her attention solely on you<<else>>stepping into her path so that she would stop<</if>>, "don't I always get us out of stuff like this?" "Yes. But you're also the one who gets us into them." "Ditto," Zihr sighs from his spot. "That's beside the point. I get us out of these things. Trust me." <<if $ticketforone>>\ She stares at you for a moment longer before her face contorts into a grimace, <<if $checl_touch>>pulling away in disgust.<<else>>backing up a few steps so that you are no longer as close as you once were.<</if>> "Trust you? You have the nerve to ask me that after what you did to Zihr and me outside the wall?" "What did you expect me to do, Checl?" you question, "I saw a chance. I took it." "That's not what I'm mad about. It's not that you chose to leave us behind -" "It's not?" Zihr asks in confusion, Checl ignoring him as she continues. "It's the fact that you didn't even tell us. You could've told us that you were going to take it, and I at least would've understood. But no, you just pushed us out of the nest and expected us to fly without the wind to aid us." She shakes her head, "but that's my fault. You always told me not to trust anyone, and now I know why." She turns her back to you, marching over to the bench where Zihr sits and leaving you standing there. You feel as if you're on some stage, only you're in your underwear, and your audience all have some kind of grievance against you. Turning, you focus on the force field. You have a plan. It doesn't matter what others think. Even more, it's better this way. You'll have to leave them behind again, though if your plan does work out, you don't know when that will be. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ She stares into your eyes before nodding, "I trust you." <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Your hands linger on her shoulder.|3.22HandsLinger][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Your hands linger on her shoulder.|3.22HandsLinger][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Good.”|3.22Good][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Good.”|3.22Good][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $checl_touch>>\[[Ruffle her feathers.|3.22RuffleFeathers][$checl +=3]]<</if>>\ [[Nod.|3.22Nod]] [[“You failed.”|3.22Failed]] [[Give her a reprimanding look.|3.22ReprimandingLook][$checl -=3]] <</if>>\
Though the conversation has concluded, you find that your hands have yet to wander away from her shoulders, and in fact, a part of you wishes to bring her closer. Your heart feels like it's thudding harder than before, and the longer you stare into those large black orbs, the more you wish to lean in and cradle - You pull yourself away with a grunt and a scowl. Walking past her, you put all your attention on the force field and what rests beyond it. A glutton for punishment that is what you are. How many times must life teach you the lesson of trusting others and letting the //idea// of them sweep you into some fantastical psyche where it's possible to be with another. Maybe one day, just maybe. But that possibility relies on you opening yourself up and freeing yourself of the multiple burdens you decided to leash to your back. <<include "3.23">>
You nod, taking her chin in your hand, and say, "good girl." Her feathers stand on end, looking crazed and frazzled as she stares back at you with wide eyes. <<if hasVisited("2.03Embarrassment")>>"Getting embarrassed again, Checl?" you tease, and now her mandibles begin to quiver.<<else>>"Everything okay?" you chuckle.<</if>> She turns away and mumbles, "stop teasing." You begin to reach out to make her meet your eyes again, but you stop the action before you can complete it. What are you doing? There is teasing, and then there is what you're doing, and a line is crossed. You draw back, reprimanding yourself. Not only on your own movements but also on bringing up the word trust. You told her not to trust anyone, yet here you are, trying to ensure that she //does// trust the one person she'll find will break her heart. It's a cruel game you're playing, made worse by your knowledge of it being callous. Instead, you set your gaze on the force field, letting it and what lies beyond take up most of your attention. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Good," you sneer, ruffling her feathers, "then stop panicking and let me do what I do best." "Get us into more trouble?" Zihr mumbles from his seat, his gaze on the ceiling as if waiting for it to bestow upon him an answer. "Give ?him some credit," Checl tells him as she goes to sit beside him, "?he does get us out of things." Zihr looks at her bewilderedly, "is that all it takes? Ruffling your head feathers to get you to agree and back down?" Her smile twists into a frown, and you let out a soft chuckle, taking your attention off them and the foreshadowed squabble and placing it on the force field and what lies beyond. <<include "3.23">>
You nod in acceptance, abandoning her side to focus on the force field. You have a plan. You just need to implement it and hope your charges are not dire.
"That was a test," you smirk, moving away from her, "and you failed." "It seemed rude to say that I don't trust you and point out how many times I've gotten into situations like this because of you." "But it's warranted," you shrug, a smirk forming, "though I could always point out your refusal to stay away and forcing me to bring you along." She snorts as she heads back to the seat beside Zihr, "no one can force you to do anything, $name. I learned that a long time ago." Your smile lingers only for so long before circumstance, and the past creeps in and causes it to fade. You then move your attention to the force field and what lies beyond. <<include "3.23">>
You choose against verbally reprimanding her and simply give her a look. She rolls her eyes, walking over to Zihr and ending any conversation there. You then move your attention to the force field and what lies beyond. <<include "3.23">>
Getting them to speak to you is a long shot. In fact, you're not even sure what information you need from them. But the chance that one of them may be able to help you fill in the blanks of what has taken place in the last year feels needed, perhaps even crucial. They all stiffen when you get to them, but none make eye contact. "I know how fast ash falls from a single dead tree underneath bright, cloudless skies. And it remains buried." They now look at you, mixed expressions roaming from hatred to confusion. "Yea," you nod, "I'm one of you." "Is that what you told those in the bunker, $name?" A raza woman on the far side of the bench questions. "You know me?" "Not all of us are the lower echelon." The other two send her snarls but remain silent. "Then you can fill in some of the gaps." "What makes you think I care too? You //were// Dinami, but no longer. The only reason you're not dead is because we all got caught." "Oh, and you were going to be the one to make sure that happens?" She leans forward with a smirk, "just because you have those odd little spots on your face doesn't make you special. A dirt eater will always be just that. That bounty on your head is pretty sizeable, and once the Dinami realizes you're alive, you'll never know a moment of peace." The more she speaks, the more you can feell yourself being dragged into a petty back and forth that will get you nothing in the end. Most of your chip's functions are off, leaving nothing but basic aids and translation available. But you don't know if Dinami-issued chips have secret operations or can still record even within anti-chip locations such as this one. You rise, ending the conversation there. If the Dinami does come to visit and dispose of them, they'll do so only after backing up all the files from their chips. They'll see you. They'll have a lead. But this is all hypothetical. Hopefully, the anti-chip protections actually do their job. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Alright," a guard voices, the force field of the cell coming down as two of them step forward, "time for your judgment." They walk you out in a line, down a few halls, until you end up in a medium-sized room with limited seating and a table with a klyc sitting behind it. It's been a while since you've seen one, and at the moment, you wish your readouts were functional to remember the details of the amphibious-like creature. Mostly to figure out why one of them would call a desert planet home. Apart from them, the only other people in attendance are two official figures sitting in the back. They eye each of you but say nothing. The doors close, and you stand before the klyc, waiting for your charges to be read. You've never been in this exact spot. Seen it happen, even attended others, but never personally stood in the spot with hands cuffed. There's an air of finality, even though you're confident in your way out. Something deep within warns you that one day you may stand here and not have a way out. That one day, all your plans will be used up, and luck will not see you through. "Alright," the klyc says in a bored tone, probably ready to end what may have already been a long work day, "read the charges for $name Moran." A robotic voice overhead chimes in, "disruption of peace. Endangering the public. Violation of numerous safety laws. Destruction of public and private property. Evading authority." You're surprised they haven't said murder but that's probably due to them having no idea of what happened in the bunker. You can still go through the trial with a murder charge, maybe even two. But any more than that and it'll be automatic sentencing, no way out. Once done, the robotic voice quiets down, and the judge mumbles something before looking up. <a data-passage="3.24"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Is there anything you wish to say before your sentencing?" "Yes," you speak, "I'd like to take the Nightwalkers Trial." The judge nods, never shedding the layer of tiredness they had possessed earlier, "and with this trial, do you understand the new terms that come with it." "I do." "Alright, read the charges for Zihr Highstrider." Again the robot chimes in, "disruption of peace. Endangering the public. Evading authority." The judge asks the same question they asked you, and though Zihr is slower to speak, he repeats your words. And thus, the judge moves on to the next, <<if $cp>>Checl following suit<</if>> while the Dinami simply accepts their sentencing. And this is how you saw this playing out. The Dinami members have little choice. If they said they wished to do the trials, they would pass, no doubt. In the Dinami, all of you, even the weakest, are tortured with gruesome tests until you are nothing more than a hollow shell, clawing for a piece of what once made you an individual. You doubt there's a test out there that you all would fail, save for a psych eval. But that wouldn't save the Dinami members. You're on the run, dead to many, so you are free to do as you wish. And that is the keyword, free. They are still slaves to the organization, as you once were. The Dinami will track them down and kill them for mutinous conduct. No amount of excuses will change their minds, and it wouldn't matter if they were one of the top members or lower ranked. [[A surge of pity races through you. You know how they feel.|3.25]] [[Consequences be damned. If they wanted freedom they would take it.|3.25]]
The judge is quiet for a moment longer before nodding, "very well. Nightwalkers, please take these <<if $cp>>three<<else>>two<</if>>. Now, for the rest of you …" You stop listening as your attention moves to the only two people in the room. One rises while the other stays put, nodding to the door before walking out. You follow. "What did you do?" Zihr questions. "Does it matter? You followed." "Because I thought this was your brilliant escape plan. Is it or is it not?" [[Tell him.|3.25TellHim][$zihrLo +=1]] [[Don't tell him.|3.25DontTell]]
You have a bit of time before your escort tells you to keep walking, you surmise. <<if $cp>>You stop and turn to face Zihr and Checl.<<else>>Turning to Zihr, you sigh.<</if>> "The Nightwalkers are a bounty-hunting group. I traded jail time for service." "So we're on the way to join a bounty-hunting group?" "Yes." "And that's it?" "No. There's a trade-off, can't make it too easy, or all criminals would be doing the same. The trials -" "Hey!" the escort yells, "keep moving, or you'll find yourself facing your undisclosed verdict." You spare <<if $cp>>the two of them<<else>>him<</if>> a look before doing what you are told. <a data-passage="3.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Are you being led to a holding cell or jail right now?" "No," he answers, "but I feel like I'm being led somewhere far worse." He walks ahead of you, <<if $cp>>leaving Checl to catch up and walk in tandem with you now. <<if $ticketforone>>But she doesn't linger. One look, and she moves to pass you as well.<<else>>She gives you a half-smile, a sort of reassurance that following you is still in her best interest. You're unsure if that's the case, but you didn't force her hand. You didn't force either of them.<</if>><<else>>leaving you to walk alone. If he's mad now, he'll be twice as upset when he learns what strings are attached to your latest plan.<</if>> <a data-passage="3.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Outside, a transport van waits for you, and, like earlier, you find yourself sitting in the back. Only when you look at others who have agreed to risk the trial do you realize your cuffs still adorn your wrists. Perhaps it's a precaution. Smart, you're not sure you would've tried to escape, but if you had figured it out sooner, you might have contemplated the risks versus rewards. You need the Nightwalkers, though. Not only do you need their access, but also the protection that will blanket you once you're brought into their ranks. As far as you know, hunts aren't broadcasted. The Dinami will have to be patient. Besides you<<if $cp>>, Zihr, and Checl<<else>> and Zihr<</if>>, there are six other prisoners. Some sit stone-faced, staring at nothing, while others fidget in their seats, already beginning to doubt their decision. You'll be interested in learning how many of you will pass and how many prisoners have in the past. Also, your curiosity stretches to how much they know about this. You know <<if $cp>>Zihr and Checl know next to nothing<<else>>Zihr knows next to nothing<</if>> about what is to come, but how about them. Did they simply know about the clause but not all that comes with it. What are they risking if they fail, and even more if they pass? You will soon see, you tell yourself, closing your eyes and waiting to reach wherever this step of your journey takes you. <a data-passage="3.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You step off the prison transporter for what you hope will be the last time. In a way, you feel like you're trading one stern organization in for another, but sometimes an individual may find no other way. You doubt it'll take the Dinami long to figure out what happened to you. If you're not in prison like the others, then the only other option is this. You're simply hoping that wherever the bounty hunters send you is a place the Dinami will have to work to gain knowledge of. At the very least, you gained a head start. Now you must maintain it. "Follow me," your escort speaks, beckoning you into the closest building. You appear in a room that looks awfully like the waiting room you found yourself in when first arriving in Taouron. Only, this building doesn't have some educational video playing, and there are a lot more chairs facing a lectern. Almost all the chairs but two are taken, and thanks to your entrance, all eyes have shifted to your group. Recruits, you surmise after looking them all over. Different ages and different kinds of experiences to bolster them through life, but all recruits willing to try their hand at joining the Nightwalkers. You're guided over to the chairs, but two other convicts take the seat before you get to them. And so, your group and a few others file in and stand behind them. "They open this to convicts?" you can hear someone whisper, but due to seeing only the backs of everyone's heads, you can't tell who. "Yea," another voice answers, "depends on the crime." "Ridiculous." The door you're facing opens, and a tall raza steps up, looking everyone in attendance over before nodding their head. <a data-passage="3.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Welcome to the Nightwalker Trials. I am Aven, and will be your proctor for today's trials. For those who didn't do proper research, the Tebriri Nightwalkers is a bounty-hunting organization comprised of some of the most talented hunters in various disciplines and fields. We cover all three branches of hunting: animals, people, and items. This trial, as a whole, allows us to figure out your ranking, specialties, and physical and mental condition. Those of you here hoping to get out of sentencing should be reminded that if you fail, your final score will be added to the years of your final sentencing." <<if $cp>>\ "Wait," Checl whispers, her frown growing in size as she moves closer to you, "are they saying what I think they are?" You shrug, "probably." "What is it that you think they're saying?" Zihr inquires. "The closer you are to succeeding, the more prison time you get unless you actually pass." <<else>>\ "What does that mean?" Zihr questions. "If you just barely pass, you'll get more prison time than if you epically failed." He seems confused for a touch longer before his eyes light up with realization. <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("3.25TellHim")>>\ "Is that what you were going to tell us back at the trial?" he questions and you nod. "And this was worth it?" "It is if you pass." "Did you weigh the chances of failure?" "For me? There are none." "Cocky." You suppress a growl, "no. I just know my own past and I've been put through far worse than this." He says nothing more but his expression tells you that his initial observation has not changed. <<else>>\ <<if $cp>>You close your eyes, so perfectly seeing Zihr's face right now and who his eyes are glaring at.<<else>>And you disengage. You can already picture Zihr's face right now and you're not in the mood to deal with it.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You place your attention back on Aven. "Your first two tests include a physical and psych eval. If you fail either of these, you will no longer be permitted to take the rest of the tests. Convicts, you may continue if you fail the physical, but only so we can supply you with an honest score. If you fail the psych evaluation, on the other hand, you will be given the previously stated sentence. Once done, you will be directed to a lobby to await the final two tests. I look forward to seeing you all there." As Aven steps down, a second steps up and silently beckons you to follow. Your motley procession is led to a hall that branches off into multiple rooms, and there they split you up into four large groups. From what you can see, the individual goes from the physical straight to the mental evaluation, which is done in a separate, more contained room. After, they seem to disappear through a door and appear on the other side of the glass as they walk down a hall toward what you surmise is the lobby they spoke of earlier. You're not worried about the physical; you and your companions are more than prepared. But the mental evaluation, you're not so sure about. These tests have a knack for scratching walls surrounding memories needing to be left alone. The last thing you want or need is for the test to come back with sporadic data about how it believes you are unfit due to past trauma. <a data-passage="3.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Next." You see that you are indeed next in line and allow yourself to focus on this, no matter how minuscule it feels. The physical is like any other. They mostly scan you, do a few physical tests, and then get some data from your chip. In the past, physicals were much more hands-on, but now technology has done away with that, especially when it can detect things no physician could. Once done, you walk to the test that actually causes you to doubt. A nurse approaches and directs you to a chair, sticking a few things onto your forehead and arms before pressing a few buttons. "This will put you under for approximately five minutes," the nurse tells you, preparing your skin for the needle. "Don't fight the effects. Just relax and let everything happen naturally. Okay?" You nod, steeling yourself for something you've been trained to resist. The Dinami are nothing if not thorough in their torture. Countless times have they done something similar, only their goal was to learn what you feared and bring it to life. To break down your psyche so that they can build it up how they wish. Ultimately, your final test was to fight the effects of drugs like these. To close yourself off so that tests come back either with a false positive or with nothing to show. [[Something you will do here.|3.30NoEntry]] [[You'll let them in.|3.30LetThemIn]]
You have no intention of letting them see what kind of state you're in. Especially since you're not even sure of what it looks like. The problems that haunt you are for you only, your burden to carry and bear. The last thing you want is for some expendable organization to start asking questions, especially when they'll have plenty to mull over by the end of all this. <<include "3.31">>
Shutting them out is simple but will raise many red flags if the results come back blank instead of rendering a false positive. The questions you'll be bombarded with will be ones you won't be able to answer; therefore, the scrutiny placed upon you will only heighten. So, the only path you can see is the one that allows them to see your stability. <<include "3.31">>
"Ready," the nurse states just before injecting you. You relax in the chair, your eyes closing on their own accord. <<if hasVisited("3.30NoEntry")>>Closing yourself off to whatever probing is to come is an easier task than you originally thought. But that shouldn't surprise you, not after learning it by the Dinami's forceful hand. You can feel the effects of the drug, but what should feel like a tsunami wave washing over you feels more like a calm wave sloshing around your ankles before retreating. Five minutes is a long time, but keeping this block up neither tires you nor causes stress. And it's the least you can do to get this over with.<<else>>You remember what it feels like to be under drugs like this, a calming yet trapped sensation that makes you want to thrash against nonexistent bindings. You can hear a small boy shout in the distance, and your heart hammers in your throat as he calls for his mother, a spine-chilling scream soon following. The feeling of a small and warm hand trapped between your own causes you to glance down at them, only for you to hiss at the sight of blood. At first, you believe it's someone else's blood, but as it builds up, you know that's a lie. You scream out as your limbs suddenly feel like something is squeezing and pulling them in multiple directions. The feeling of electricity jabbing into your back and sending a current through your entire body. Your head pounds as your vision grows blurry, and wind speeds past you, falling. You're falling.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.30NoEntry")>>\ Finally, the effects wear off, and your eyes drift open. You won't be sure what the computer was able to get. That is always the tricky part and one wholly out of your hands. But you're released, and you head out to the lobby they direct you towards. <<else>>\ The effects wear off, but the headache you sustained shows no sign of following. "Are you alright?" the nurse questions, and you wave her away as you slowly rise. You should've known what your subconscious would throw at you; it was foolish not to be more prepared. Someone in denial would say they are fine; you know better than that. You have grappled with the symptoms of PTSD too many times for you to think that it doesn't hold you on the end of its leash, whispering cruel half-truths into your ear. Hopefully, the tests won't show half of what you experienced. They release you, and you head out to the lobby they direct you towards. <</if>>\ Due to you being a convict, your group is the last to go through, so when you enter the lobby, almost everyone else is already there, and the wait to begin the next part arrives quickly. Seeing that no one has come up to you to tell you that you will be excused, you believe you passed the evaluation. Everything else will be as simple as the physical, meaning you can start planning for what will come after all this. <a data-passage="3.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Congratulations to all of you who passed the first two tests," Proctor Aven speaks, gaining the attention of the lobby, "your physical health and mental well-being are integral to your success and will always be one of our primary goals. You will learn more if you join our ranks, but these two tests are ones you should become acquainted with. This will not be the last time you take them. The next two tests will find you in groups of four and focus solely on your skill set. The third test is a skill showcase. Each group will be presented with the opportunity to showcase their skills to the evaluators. More information when your group enters the room. The fourth test is a scrimmage. After the third test, evaluators will pit you against one of the four in your group, and in front of all, you will go head to head." Aven takes a moment to let this information set in before motioning for a few guides to step up. "When you hear your name, walk to the appropriate guide." Initially, you believe they'll split you up based on where you're currently standing or even regular civilians versus convicts, but when they call Zihr <<if $cp>>and Checl to separate groups<<else>>to a separate group<</if>>, you decide your original thoughts may be wrong, leaving you with a lack of ideas. Your newly formed group now consists of a female vetix, or at least you believe so. Their species has little in the way of sexual dimorphism, and though Tsering has shown you what to look for, it has hardly helped. One other is a raza, and as the last member of your four-person group is called, your eyes grow in amazement. "Greetings," it says with a tinny-sounding voice, hands raised as if surrendering, but you surmise that it believes it is attempting to wave. You blink several times, telling yourself you're wrong, but no, it stands before you. A draqe. Out here? Taking a bounty hunter trial, no less? "Problem?" it asks all of you, the clangorous sound never fading. It causes you to flinch, reminding you of someone taking a sharp knife and scraping it across metal. The raza curls its upper lip in disgust before turning to your guide, "I don't know how you set up these groups, but I'm obviously in the wrong one. Why am I paired with a malfunctioning droid, a horned-barmy, and …" They turn to spare you a look, "whatever the fuck that's meant to be." [[“Fuck around and you'll find out.”|3.32FuckAround]] [[“Done acting like an ass?”|3.32DoneActing]] [[Ignore them.|3.32IgnoreThem]]
"Fuck around, and you'll end up finding out." "Are you threatening me?" "You can call it whatever you like. I simply want to see you try me," you snort. <<include "3.33">>
"Are you going to be acting like an ass this entire time?" <<include "3.33">>
You're not in the mindset to deal with them. In fact, you find them foolish for even bringing attention to themselves in such a way after Aven said that you'll be fighting another in your group. The draqe probably doesn't care, but you can at least tell that you and the vetix wouldn't mind being paired up with them. <<include "3.33">>
"Quiet," the guide hushes, rolling their eyes, "or you'll miss out on information I won't answer later." With all the groups now established, Aven speaks once again, "these two tests are vital to your final score. Failure here will cause you to fail the test entirely. So, do what you know best, and for those who do not like showing off, ignore that tendency; you'll need to do so here. Good luck." The guide looks to you as one group is ushered out of the room and says, "for now, you'll wait here. Socialize if you wish, but it will be your turn when I call for you." No sooner do those words leave the guide's mouth that the raza walks off, heading to three others. The vetix stretches and takes a seat near the waiting guide, leaving you and the draqe alone. It's not a fact you're put off by, and you can't help but stare. Draqe are primarily solitary, not part of the Coalition, and keeping to themselves in their home system. You've heard very little, and that which you do know seems quite useless when dealing with an aberrant draqe. At most, you know they work on a hive mind type of system and that there are only two different versions, with one leading and the other following. Aberrants are rare. How rare, you don't know, but scarce enough for them to earn their name. "I gotta say," you start, "I'm just shocked to see one of you here." "Aberrant?" "Yea, no shit," you snort. Despite knowing very little, you at least know what the light blue discoloring in its headpiece, wiring, and eyes means. Though that is about it. Anything more, and you enter a realm of speculation and conjecture. <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1")>>“What should I call you?”<<else>>[[“What should I call you?”|3.34Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|3.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|3.34Q3]]<</if>>
"You got a name?" you inquire. "Designation. ELN-L593-NE0." You take a moment to repeat the hums and whirs that had just left the draqe's mouth. None of it makes much sense. Just sounds more akin to a melody than actual words as you know them. "Write it out." The draqe shows you its wrist terminal and reflected back is nothing but letters and numbers. So then its language is far from your comprehension, especially if numbers are part of their phonetics. You take a second glance at its name, narrowing your attention on the last bit, Ne0. Of course, the o is a zero, but you can at least work with that. "Mind if I call you Ne0?" "Welcomed." "Then I'm $name," you introduce. "Known." "You knew?" you question with a raised brow. "Analyzed upon meeting. "You analyzed me? Why?" "Curiosity." You sigh, suddenly feeling like your entire history had just been opened and viewed by the public, even though it had just been one draqe in reality. "Tension detected." Ne0 cocks its head as it regards you, "$name, upset?" [[“No more analyzing.”|3.34Q1.Analyzing]] [[“What did you find?”|3.34Q1.WhatDidYouFind]] [[“Ask first.”|3.34Q1.AskFirst]]
"No more random analyzing." "Behavior unacceptable?" "To most, yes. It's an invasion of privacy." "Observation logged." <<if hasVisited("3.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|3.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|3.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1", "3.34Q2", "3.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|3.34]]<</if>>
"Discover anything interesting?" "Race: Terran. Error. Foreign DNA detected. Blood Type. Z3-Omega. Fertility -" "And that's enough. I said interesting, not basic." "Comprehension failure. Query. What is basic?" "Boring. Bland. Stuff no one really cares to know about." Ne0 stares at you, and you're worried you probably broke its brain. For what feels like an entire minute, it does nothing more than stare ahead, a void look behind eyes that give nothing away in the first place. <<if hasVisited("3.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|3.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|3.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1", "3.34Q2", "3.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|3.34]]<</if>>
"Bothered is more appropriate." "Broad emotional range." "Sure. Just ask before you decide to analyze someone next time, okay?" "Observation logged." <<if hasVisited("3.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|3.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|3.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1", "3.34Q2", "3.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|3.34]]<</if>>
"So, how long have you been aberrant?" "Terran terminology. Three months." "Whoa, that's …" Your frown deepens as you ponder its words. "And how long have you been … around?" "Unknown." "Unknown? Did you forget" "Correct." "So you could be six hundred years old, but because of whatever happened to make you aberrant, you don't remember anything?" "Correct." "You remember nothing?" "No." You can think of a few people who would love to have something like that happen to them, forgetting all and starting new. "Is there any way to get that information back?" Ne0's head lowers as it seems to focus on something else. You almost want to label the action as sadness. "Unknown." <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1")>>“What should I call you?”<<else>>[[“What should I call you?”|3.34Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|3.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1", "3.34Q2", "3.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|3.34]]<</if>>
"So, what's the differences between you and a normal draqe? I can see that there's a color difference. Other draqe are gold, right?" "Correct. Lack of personal knowledge. Emotions. Freewill." "Wait, you have emotions?" "Not terran standards. But factual assessment." "So, can you fall in love?" "Yes. But terran species, unappealing." You're about to continue on when you hold your tongue, squinting at nothing in particular as you replay <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1")>>Ne0's<<else>>its<</if>> words. "<<if hasVisited("3.34Q1")>>Ne0, did<<else>>Did<</if>> you just call me ugly?" "Correction. Unappealing." "Yea. That means ugly, buddy." "Sentient being saying. Someone for everyone." "Yea," you draw out, patting its shoulder as you head towards a free table to sit, "we can drop it. But it's good to know that you understand the whole humor aspect." <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1")>>“What should I call you?”<<else>>[[“What should I call you?”|3.34Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|3.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.34Q1", "3.34Q2", "3.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|3.34]]<</if>>
Seated at the table, you only look up when you notice Zihr <<if $cp>>and Checl <</if>>approaching the two of you. "New friend?" Zihr questions, giving Ne0 an odd look as he sits. "Ne0, Zihr<<if $cp>> and Checl<</if>>. Zihr<<if $cp>> and Checl<</if>>, Ne0." <<if $cp>>\ "Greetings," it says, turning its attention to Checl. "Species recognized. Zeach." "Yes," she starts, unsure where this conversation may go. You can hardly blame her. "Species captivating." <<if $humor >=50>>"Oh, so I'm ugly, but Checl is attractive? I see how it is, Ne0," you joke, causing Checl's feathers to ruffle as she tries to hide her face.<<else>>Checl seems even more confused and glances at you. You shrug, "I'm pretty sure it's calling you beautiful." "Affirmative." "Oh," Checl murmurs, her feathers showing embarrassment, "thank you."<</if>> <<else>>\ "Greetings," it says, and Zihr nods in response. <</if>>\ Zihr then asks, "how are you feeling about your groups?" "I'd say fine if an aberrant draqe wasn't in mine," you state, jabbing your thumb in Ne0's direction. "How did they even run a physical and mental evaluation on you?" "Tests exist. Mental evaluation applicable. Diagnostics." You're unsure how that answers your questions since you want to know how, but you let it go. "Who'd win in a fight?" Zihr inquires. [[“I'd rather not find out.”|3.34RatherNotFindOut]] [[“I'm wondering the same thing.”|3.34WonderingSameThing]] [[“Probably Ne0.”|3.34NotMe]] [[“Easy, me.”|3.34EasyMe]]
"If I'm to be honest, I'd rather not find out. I'd much rather fight the vetix or the raza." "Information unknown," Ne0 answers, gazing over at you, "$name's skill set unknown." "So there's a chance?" Zihr continues to ask. "Yes. 34.4%." Zihr snorts, and you simply roll your eyes. You've beaten worse odds. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="3.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="3.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"I'm wondering the same thing," you turn to Ne0, "got an approximation?" "Yes. 34.4%." Zihr snorts, and you nod. You've beaten worse odds. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="3.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="3.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
Probably Ne0," you admit, "how much do you even weigh?" "166 kilograms." "See. How does one even fight against you?" you exclaim. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="3.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="3.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Easy," you shrug, "me." "Cocky," Zihr points out, but you wave that away. "Ne0 is a fresh aberrant, there's no way it knows how to fight, and there's a difference between defending yourself and actually fighting." "Yea, one sounds like it can kick your ass faster," Zihr smirks, but you leave it there. You'd be interested to see how that particular fight would play out. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="3.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="3.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if $cp>>\ "I won't pass." Your attention shifts to Checl, who has been unnaturally quiet. She fiddles with her hands and talons, staring at the table. "What makes you say that?" "What skill set do I have for these next two tests? I definitely don't know how to fight. I won't be able to pass." Unfortunately, she's right. Checl has never fired a gun; as far as you know, she's never even held one. Being a zeach, she'll probably draw the evaluator's attention due to their own curiosity, and when she underperforms, they will be quick to score her low. Not because of the audacity she may possess for choosing this path but because they would rather her sit in jail than meet her end on the field because they were lenient. [[Offer advice. (This will keep Checl in the story permanently.)|3.34HelpChecl]] [[Leave it alone. (This will remove Checl from the story. She will not show back up.)|3.34LeaveChecl]] <</if>>\
You examine her for a bit longer, a plan forming in your head to aid her. It's not perfect, far from it, but it's the only one you can think of that has any chance of succeeding. "Alright, listen to what I tell you." She nods, moving in for greater effect. "Your biggest asset is your agility, so you're going to need to focus on that. Gymnastics, dodging, anything that focuses on you moving fast and smoothly. Do not grab a weapon. Focus on close-quarters combat and landing kicks if there's a dummy. When you fight, you avoid. Do not try to fight them. Tire them out; that's your focus. You do that until there's a clear opening or time runs out, okay?" "You think that'll work?" "It won't give you a top score. Some of the evaluators may even see through it, but it should get you a passing grade at the very least." She nods just as your guide yells for you to come over. <a data-passage="3.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You'll be fine." "Says the one who probably sees all this as just a warm-up." "There's not much you can do about it now but try your hardest, so that's what you'll do." She doesn't seem convinced but nods anyway. Either way, it doesn't matter because your guide yells for you to come over. <<include "3.35">>
Your group of four follows the guide to a room filled with multiple areas to get lost in. You spot a shooting range simulator, a few practice rings with a training dummy set up in the middle of each, a wall with a few consoles, a weight area, and a second simulator room whose purpose is unknown to you. It all feels strangely familiar. The layout differs, but the purpose is all the same. When you were in the Dinami, you and Tsering would drag others to areas like this under the guise of staying sharp. Secretly, both of you had selfish reasons. Not only could you keep an eye on those who may choose to backstab you, but you could also keep your own skills of perception and understanding sharp. Knowing how to fight is integral, but being able to watch another for possible weaknesses and exploits, not to mention doing such a thing quickly, is just as important. Any other time, the two of you did it to let off steam. After a particularly irritating or challenging target that provided little to no reward, you'd come to places like this and let routine and muscle memory take over. Your frown expands as you realize what you have been thinking of. [[It all leaves a bad taste in your mouth.|3.35LeavesBadTaste][$dinami -=2]] [[Sometimes … you just wish …|3.35JustWish][$dinami +=2]]
There are some memories you wish to part with. Whoever said things like this will make you stronger has obviously never been through it. It's debilitating. To feel anything but contempt after what happened seems like a wasted emotion, yet here you are. So many "happy" memories, and for what? What did they all mean? Because they damn sure didn't mean anything to Tsering. <<include "3.36">>
Living underneath the Dinami was hell, no doubt about it. But pockets of light filled those days where you questioned all of it. Pockets that felt worth something and caused you to feel like you finally found something you knew was missing but could never place a word to. Sometimes you wonder if it all had to end this way. You rarely like to look back and place what if's on situations, but this … well, this seems like an exception. <<include "3.36">>
"Alright, gather around," your guide commands, motioning to the room, "welcome to the third test. Like Proctor Aven said before, this test allows you to show all your skills to the evaluators." They point to a tinted window that rests a story above you. "If you make it into our ranks, you can switch weapons or choose another class, but here, you should choose what you are familiar with. You have thirty minutes to show your skills. There is no fighting among each other, and any close combat will be had with the training dummy. One person per station. If you are interested in an occupied station, press the console next to each other, it will then begin a countdown. Once your thirty minutes are up, you'll be escorted to the final testing room for the scrimmage. There, I will also tell you who you will be up against. Good luck." The raza is the first to walk away, making a beeline for the shooting range. The vetix is next, stretching as she heads over to the training dummy and leaving you and Ne0 to figure out what you will do. You exchange a look with the draqe before figuring out where you wish to go. //You will only have three options. Choose wisely.// ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] [[The simulation room.|3.36SimulationRoom][$round +=1]]
You approach one of the consoles sitting against the wall and bring it to life. Overhead, a screen appears with a diagnostics of something or someone. "It's a hacking test," one of the helpers tells you, pointing to an offline robot. "Your goal is to find and isolate the virus and then repair the robot. Repair-wise, you can either do it by using the console's programming or manually attempt to do so. Either way, by the end of the exercise, it should be functional again, but you don't have to repair it due to time constraints." You nod your thanks, choosing to start the program and try your luck. <<if $tech >=5>>\ You're familiar with code, so this shouldn't be a problem. You're also interested in seeing how fast you can do this independently since your chip won't be able to assist you. The process starts with searching for the virus, but the more you scour the code, the longer you realize that this may take too much time. It won't be perfect, but if you can create a quick algorithm to better aid you, it'll save you time and be a bit more accurate. Time rushes by as you finish and execute it, hoping your skills don't disappoint. It's been a while since you've done something like this. You're not entirely sure if you'll be successful. The algorithm runs and delivers to you three possible issues. Looking through each one, you easily find and isolate the culprit, running the diagnostics and repair program next. "Systems online," the computer chimes, "further repairs needed for functionality." Technically, repairing the robot is still in your field of knowledge, but you've already placed a good chunk of time into this. The question is if you wish to invest even more time. If you do, you'll have to do something more than just repair it. You'll have to upgrade the bot as well<<if $round >3>>, though you doubt you have time<</if>>. <<if $round is 1>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is in the simulation room, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[Repair the robot.|3.36Repair][$round +=1; $tech +=5; $smarts +=5]] [[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] ''Simulation room: Occupied'' <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching you and the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza in the practice ring. [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] [[Repair the robot.|3.36Repair][$round +=1; $tech +=5; $smarts +=5]] <<if hasVisited("3.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You're not the best when it comes to tech, but you find no reason why that can't change. This exercise will at least give you a decent understanding atop of what you already know. The process starts with searching for the virus, but the more you scour the code, the longer you realize that this may take too much time. Lines of code begin to bleed into the next, and your interest in the activity dwindles with every line that you don't understand the meaning of. This is an entire language, and you're not fluent. Part of you wishes to just scroll down in hopes of finding a red error mark or something akin that will tell you the virus is there. What stops you? The understanding that this program probably doesn't hold something like that. You would've wasted time and your place when you could just continue like this. Thankfully, after a bit more scrolling, you find a line that looks odd to you and start isolating it. If you're wrong, you'll probably drive your fist through the terminal. Finally, you run the diagnostics and repair program. "Systems online," the computer chimes, "further repairs needed for functionality." You lazily gaze over at the robot. You've wasted enough time trying to find the virus and that you at least knew how to do, sorta. You have no idea how to fix a robot, so you turn and figure out what you wish to do next. <<if $round is 1>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is in the simulation room, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] ''Simulation room: Occupied'' <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching you and the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza in the practice ring. [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("3.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
Approaching the robot, you look it over, narrowing down all the areas that probably keep it from full functionality. Not really a complicated fix. It's your want to be able to upgrade the robot that will yield an issue. Glancing over <<if $round is 3>>at Ne0 who seems to be at ease with its task<<else>>your shoulder, you attempt to spot Ne0, wishing you could get its thoughts.<</if>> Now that you think about it, you wonder how many functions they had to turn off on Ne0 so that it was on equal footing with the rest of you. You'll probably ask later. Grabbing some gloves and protective glasses, you begin to tinker, reconnecting wires and sealing areas back up. A few spaces allow you to play with them more, keeping core programming intact but changing up different functions that will shift how the robot behaves. It's a mix of applying what you already know, learning about other parts, and applying guesswork and creativity to see what will happen. Finally, you take a step back and seal the last area. You head to the console and start the reboot system, hoping you did everything right. You've fiddled with tech before but never on this magnitude. "System reboot in process, standby." It repeats this phrase a few times before the robot shifts, standing at full height, "Robot 9302-2AD online. Awaiting orders." "Scan room," you direct. This was part of one of the only upgrades you could implement. It had the function already, but from what you could tell, it was elementary. Now, it should be able to tell you not only how many people are present but also what species they are. "Scan complete. Ten living beings in proximity." "Parse. Immediate vicinity of -" You look where the helper stands, curious about what you're doing. "Um, five meters." There's a lull before the robot says, "Tetigit Terran. Raza." That was as far as you could go without actually sitting down and examining the scan chip with a program, so that'll have to do. "Power down." It does so, and with that all taken care of, you look to see what else you can do. <<if $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching you and the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza in the practice ring. [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("3.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You enter one of the practice rings and perform a light stretch. The training dummy is one of those that gauge how hard you hit it and how fast. It was information that you never really believed to be helpful. Of course, one can find out how hard they hit compared to another, but if an individual knew how to fight, that could always outdo one who simply knew how to hit hard. A vetix or shaph will always do more damage than you, doesn't mean you couldn't decimate them in a fight. But you suppose it's more for those judging you than helpful information. Regardless, you begin the exercise. You start with taps, extending your warm-up before applying strength and more precise thinking to where the hits land. Due to your profession, you never had to rely on up close and personal. But that didn't mean there was never a time when you had to fight hand to hand or apply some kind of finishing move swiftly and quietly. That's what most of your hits feel like. Blows that will put your opponent down as quickly as possible in the most lethal way. By the time you finish, you have worked up a sweat and leave it at that, finishing up and leaving the ring. <<if $round is 1>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is in the simulation room, and the vetix is still using one of the other ring. ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] ''Simulation room: Occupied'' <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("3.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
With the simulation room now vacant, you wander over to figure out what this room is about. You bring the console to life and find a few different exercises, though the only ones that really grab your attention are a timed quiz, a medical simulator, and an obstacle course. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>>
You load up the quiz, curious about what this is supposed to be about, and soon find out that it's about everything. It throws countless questions from multiple subjects at you. It also gives you numerous scenarios where obscene knowledge comes in handy. Ultimately, you're not quite sure how you did, but you're at least confident you got half of them right. <<if $round is 1>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you see that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is at the consoles, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you look to see that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix approaching you, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. The vetix will probably want to use the room and put you on a countdown, so it may be wiser to just head somewhere else ... or not. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("3.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You load up the simulation, and a body appears before you as the scene continues to load. Once done, the directions tell you that you need to find and remove the three bullets and tend to any of the wounds before the individual dies or falls unconscious. The instruments lie next to the body, some you're not sure the name of, but you can easily recognize the forceps, scissors, clamps, gauze, bandage tape, and what you think may be water. A timer appears, and once it tells you to begin, you waste no time. Finding the entry wounds is easy; fishing out the bullets is far more complicated, requiring you to be calm and careful as one seems to have split apart. After cleaning and dressing them, you start on the other wounds. These are far easier to do, thanks to you having to clean wounds like this all the time. You're almost upset you didn't have to sew anything up, another skill you possess. <<if $round is 1>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you see that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is at the consoles, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you look to see that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix approaching you, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. The vetix will probably want to use the room and put you on a countdown, so it may be wiser to just head somewhere else ... or not. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("3.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You load up the simulation and then stand on the platform, watching the world fall into place. A typical street with obstacles like cars, walls, stairs, and buildings rests between you and the area you're supposed to reach. A parkour course then. You didn't need to do much chasing in your line of work. Sometimes it was necessary due to a miscalculation but most times, you show up, stalk, and then eliminate your target. The race starts, and you surge forward, racing across the street, jumping and sliding over cars, avoiding the incoming traffic, and racing up the side of walls. It's exhilarating, and you find that instincts lead you more than anything else. Momentum pushes you forward as you jump the gap between buildings, and once you land, you roll, then pop back up and continue. You can do a few things better, but it's a good enough start for someone who hasn't done much. <<if $round is 1>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you see that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is at the consoles, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you look to see that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix approaching you, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. The vetix will probably want to use the room and put you on a countdown, so it may be wiser to just head somewhere else ... or not. <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|3.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|3.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|3.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> [[Shooting range.|3.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("3.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|3.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|3.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
Finally, you get a spot in the shooting range. You access the console and find they have numerous programs for you, each corresponding with a weapon. Your eyes go from one to another, deciding on … [[… the sniper.|3.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the assault rifle.|3.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the shotgun.|3.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the pistol.|3.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the plasma charger.|3.36ShootingRange1]]
You pick the corresponding program, grab the weapon, and prepare. Something clicks as soon as the program starts, and you fall into a routine you didn't know was ingrained. So much that you find yourself performing moves almost instinctively. When the program ends, you're more shocked than anything else. Your mind reprehends the program and the Nightwalkers for having such an easy simulation. The Dinami ones were punishing, pushing you into situations that resembled no-win scenarios, scenarios that made you believe your life was indeed in danger. You head back to the console, searching for the difficulty but finding it's already as high as it can go. "Again, then," you growl, pounding the start and returning to your previous position. Again. Again. Each simulation finds you growing more upset than the last, each seeming to be easier than the previous. You're about to press it again when one of the helpers appears, "time is up." Glancing behind them, you notice your three group members on the other side, unreadable expressions resting on their faces. "They want a turn?" you question, about to add more when the helper shakes their head. "No. The test is done." "Oh," you sigh, avoiding the look they give you as you return the weapon and head out of the simulation area. You head straight to your guide, trying to straighten your mind out. <a data-passage="3.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("3.36ShootingRange")>>"Alright, good job," the guide states, sparing you a glance before continuing, "if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the scrimmage room."<<else>>"Time," your guide shouts, and you all make your way back toward them. "Good work. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the scrimmage room."<</if>> "When do we learn who we'll be fighting?" the raza asks. "In a bit. The evaluators will still be looking through your performance and matching you with someone." "And if we failed to meet their expectations?" "You'll still be allowed to fight. Otherwise, the numbers will be off." It makes sense, especially since individuals may show themselves adept in the ring. Entering the room, three other groups are within, and they seem to have already started. Currently, a trarkran and a terran are in the ring. You're not sure how long they've been fighting, but it's evident that the terran is on their last legs and losing energy with every second that passes by. You watch as the trarkran uses their tail to trip up their opponent, and the terran does not resist, lying there until their guide gives the match to the trarkran. You involuntarily scoff, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts that encroach. Ne0 comes to your side, "query. Desired opponent?" [[“You.”|3.37Ne0][$ne0Lo +=1]] [[“The vetix.”|3.37Vetix]] [[“The raza.”|3.37Raza]] [[“I don't care.”|3.37IDC]]
"I'm hoping they pair me up with you." "Challenge?" "Yea. I'm curious how hard you'd be to put down. Have you ever fought?" "Negative," it blinks, gazing over at you, "others, fearful." Well, of course they are. An average draqe is scary but an aberrant, an android with free will that can think for itself. It's scary, but at the same time, it's far more familiar. It's something that you can outwit. <<include "3.38">>
"The vetix," you tell it, gazing over at the woman in question. Like always she seems bored, simply minding her business as she watches the next duo enter the ring. "Reasoning?" You shrug, "vetix are usually strong and test your endurance and hardiness. It's nice for self-reflection." <<include "3.38">>
"That raza," you tell it, looking ahead of you and at the back of the raza in question. "Reasoning?" "I think it'll be funny to see their face hit the floor of the ring again and again. Maybe they'll cry about it." Ne0 pauses, "joke?" "Sure," you snort, "wasn't really joking, but it can be taken as such if you want." <<include "3.38">>
"I don't actually have a preference," you tell it. You're not sure what the outcome will be if you fight Ne0, but you're somewhat confident in your ability to win against the other two. The vetix will make the task difficult, but the raza feels like nothing but hot air stuffed in a petite body. Still, you haven't seen them fight so you won't judge too harshly. <<include "3.38">>
"I have your matches," your guide says, and you gather around them. "Vetix, you'll be facing off with the draqe. Raza and terran, your match will be after theirs." The raza snorts, rolling their eyes as if they wished for something more challenging. All of you ignore them as the guide continues to speak. "The matches will continue until either I call it, you are down for ten seconds, or one of you takes a knee. I want you to remember that after this, there's a chance you'll be in an organization with the people standing near you. You may even be put on the same team. Remember that. Don't make unnecessary enemies." Their attention shifts to Ne0, "for the fight, we'll need to cut some more of your functions off." "No," the vetix says gruffly, "leave them on." The guide raises a brow but nods. You'll have a bit of time, so stretch and prepare. They walk away, and though Ne0 does nothing, the rest of you begin to stretch and do a basic warm-up. <a data-passage="3.39"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The other matches come and go until it's the vetix's and Ne0's turn. Everyone seems interested, and where there is once idle chatter is now silence as all look to the ring. <<if $cp>>You notice that Checl's group has joined the room; she catches your gaze and waves. You nod back.<</if>> You have an inkling that they matched the two of them up due to Ne0's weight and outer plating. At the end of the day, a draqe is still made out of some organic kind of metal, and you probably will break a few bones before even fazing Ne0. A vetix, on the other hand, has chitinous bone, far more robust, and though you're not sure how that will hold up against metal, it is still wiser to partner those two factors up. Ne0 shows its inexperience fairly quickly. It knows the basics, but there is no clear fighting style, whereas the vetix fights like she was raised to do so. She reminds you of Tsering, or at least how he fights when he knows his opponent is no match. There's a brutalizing trend to their actions. Mostly slow yet damaging punches, charging, and using their entire body like a battering ram. They stay close, and if they do put distance between you, it is never for a good reason. You fought Tsering once, simply due to curiosity, and you felt like you had been fighting a rock majority of the time. The fight doesn't last long; no fight really does. Somehow, the vetix manages to trip up Ne0 and, once down, places a foot on its chest to keep it there. Ne0, being primarily of logic, seems to accept defeat rather quickly and makes no move to counter, giving the win to the vetix. Most of the crowd appears to deflate after that. The first draqe they'll probably ever see, and it barely held its own against a standard vetix. Regardless, you know they'll probably give Ne0 entry to the Nightwalkers. It's fighting prowess is low but that doesn't mean its other functions won't offer a great boon. <a data-passage="3.40"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With the conclusion of their fight comes the arrival of yours. You stretch, getting to your feet and heading towards the outside of the ring as your opponent darts to the other. They seem a bit too excited for your taste, but you make no mention of it. Your guide motions for you to enter, and you watch as the raza seems to put on a show. Tsering's voice comes alive in the back of your mind. <span class ="flashback">"You know what your problem is?" You sigh as you raise a brow and give him a faint hint of your attention, "no, but you're going to tell me. Right?" He snorts, continuing, "you broadcast what you're going to do. You're mysterious, and you'd think that would be included in your fighting, but it's not. I can tell what you're about to do without even focusing." To test those words, I throw a punch toward him, and he swats it away with a knowing smirk. "Told you." "Fine, then oh so knowledgeable Tsering, what would you rather me do?" <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ "Accepting my offer for a fun night on the town would be a start," he smiles. "I'm about to walk away." "Fine, fine," he sighs, "you can start by being more observant. Perception is a strength." <<else>>\ "You can start by being more observant. Perception is a strength." <</if>>\ "How can someone do that when trying to make the first move?" "By testing their opponent. I can hit you first, but that doesn't always mean I'm not studying you. I'm testing your reflexes, seeing which side you favor, and checking to see if you have any kind of injury or debilitation. Anything I can use, I'm watching for." "What have you noticed about me?" <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>He eliminates the space between you, his purple eyes looming over you and making you stiffen though you refuse to move. "Those eyes of yours mostly. And your refusal to give me the time of day." You snort, carefully tapping the side of his neck where his neck slits lie. "Keep trying. Who knows, you may succeed one day." You move from near him and leave, hearing him shout, 'that's not a no.'<<else>>He cocks his head as he regards me, finally chuckling. "I'm not about to tell you." He moves away, leaving you to wonder if you should switch up your style and then wonder if there's any point to that.<</if>></span> <a data-passage="3.41"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The whistle blows, and the raza wastes no time in moving forward. Dodging the attack is easy, and without much trying, you can already tell how much their actions are simply to show off. They keep bouncing around, reminding you of some over-active boxer. //They'll tire out pretty quickly//, your mind determines. One bounce of theirs, in particular, captures your attention. They do a double bounce on their left, and when they shift from side to side, their left hand extends more than their right. You decide to throw a kick, curious to see their reaction and reflexes at work. They slide out of reach, far too eager, and like you observed before, far too bouncy. You learn that their left side is dominant, though. "Is that all you got?" they laugh, "I knew this would be easy, but I at least hoped to get some good notes other than 'took down the opponent fast.'" [[Antagonize them.|3.41Antagonize][$persuade -=5]] [[Tire them out and have them defeat themselves.|3.41TireOut][$persuade +=5]] [[Finish this quickly.|3.41FinishQuickly]]
"Oh, is that right?" you question, "well, then come on. Let's see how fast you can put me down." They surge forward, and though your initial thought is to dodge, you decide to take the hit, curious about how hard their punch is. The jab lands on your cheek, hard enough for you to feel it at least but not even enough to cause your numbing abilities to go into effect to try and deter the pain. "First note," you smirk, "learn how to hit harder." They try to land another, but you dodge this time, grabbing their arm and slamming your elbow on top of it. You don't wish to break their arm, but there should be enough pain now to dissuade them from not thinking about their subsequent action. "Did you not go into the practice ring last test? Did the dummy even register your hits?" "Shut up!" they shout, aiming a kick for your head that you easily swat away. "I think I'm going to steal your line if you don't mind. //I// was hoping for some good notes besides 'had too much fun in ring.'" "This isn't a game," they say through gritted teeth. "Isn't it? Because I'm not really feeling threatened here." They surge toward you, their hatred and rage blinding them to sense, especially toward someone who has proven challenging. [[Break them.|3.41BreakThem][$attitude -=5]] [[Put them down easy.|3.41DownEasy][$attitude +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> Perhaps the charge would be effective if you hadn't seen it coming. You're given plenty of time to move out of the way, trip them, and then pin them down to the ground. Your knee on their back as they struggle against you and their wrist in your hand as you angle it into a position that would make it easy to break. "I could break your arm right now," you tell them. "You're bluffing," they growl, and you move back to show that you aren't just as the guide calls the match. Part of you still wants to show them how much you weren't kidding, but you can easily see that landing you right back on the prison bus. There are more important things than just some random raza who has a mouth on them. So, with a sigh, you get to your feet and leave the ring. <a data-passage="3.42"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> The idea of putting them down fast and hard does surface, but you shove it to the side, there is no need for that. You instead wish to simply subdue them and get this over with. You let them collide with you, and using their momentum, you wrap your arms around them so that you're both sent falling to the ground. At the last minute, you shift, pinning them down and keeping them there. Every number finds them thrashing more, and on one occasion, they almost throw you off and rise, but it's too late, and you withstand the assault. You rise and leave the ring as soon as it's called, finding no reason to stay. <<include "3.42">>
One of the smartest things you can think of is doing almost nothing and having them defeat themselves. It's a trick you've seen Tsering pull multiple times, mostly when he wants to embarrass the other party. All you have to do is move. There may be a few areas where you have to defend, but it's not a difficult task in the grand scheme of all that you're doing. Opponents like this always make it easier. Each time they come forward, you dance out of the way, and each time you do, their frustration grows. Their punches produce franticness, and soon any training they might have had goes out the window as they simply try to land a hit. It's mostly frustration and anger that rule an individual at this time. The belief that a blow should've landed by now or that this fight should be more engaging. "Stop running," they yell. The accusation doesn't bother you; in a way, you are running. But where you haven't broken a sweat, they're slowing down and gasping a whole lot more. If they were well-trained, this fight could last longer than two minutes, but you sensed their unpreparedness from the moment they started bouncing. They probably knew enough to give them an edge against the average person, but nothing more. They let out a breath, glaring at you as they breath deeply. You can see that their entire body is tight, holding back hatred that they wish could fuel additional punches. But despite how untrained they are, they're at least not stupid, and you watch as they take a knee. Your guide calls the fight, and you turn and leave, heading back to your spot near Ne0. <a data-passage="3.42"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Unlike them, you don't care about getting glowing reviews from evaluators you haven't seen yet. This will probably be anticlimactic, but you'd much rather get this over with and head back to viewing the rest of the fights until it's your turn to be evaluated. You wait until they're bouncing to surge forward, faking as if you're about to throw a punch and instead going low and swiping their legs out from under them. Due to their love of bouncing, they're thoroughly unprepared and go down without a problem. You can already see them trying to rise and so stand over them. [[Punch them in the face. Hard.|3.41PunchFace][$attitude -=5]] [[Just keep them down.|3.41KeepDown][$attitude +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You deliver a punishing jab to their face, ignoring the pain that blossoms along your knuckles as their head snaps back to the ground, and they lie there longer. Long enough for the fight to be called in your favor, but you're already leaving the ring. "Should've fought you," you hear the vetix murmur as you walk by. <<include "3.42">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> You pin them down by their hands, keeping your head out of collision range as the guide begins counting down the time they have left. Every number finds them thrashing more, and on one occasion, they almost throw you off and rise, but it's too late, and you withstand the assault. You rise and leave the ring as soon as it's called, finding no reason to stay. "Should've fought you," you hear the vetix murmur as you walk by. <<include "3.42">>
The rest of the fights pass by without you paying much attention to any of them. <<if $cp>>Checl's grabs your attention, <<if hasVisited("3.34HelpChecl")>>and you watch as she uses your advice, avoiding her opponent and causing them to chase her around the ring. You're not sure if it's frustration or understanding that they'll be unable to land a hit that causes them to bend the knee; either way, they do. You smile at how excited she leaves the ring, seeking you out to mouth her thanks. <<else>>and you watch as she loses easily. She should've just taken a knee. It probably would've been a lot less painful. <</if>>Zihr's match is also an interesting watch, raza versus raza, and though you're unsure, Zihr seems troubled. Despite that, he still wins against his opponent, proving that whatever bothers him doesn't get in the way of fighting. A nice thing to know.<</if>> Most of the fights don't receive your attention, and thankfully, Ne0 is not a talkative companion. You only find your focus returning when Proctor Aven gets into the ring. <a data-passage="3.43"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Thank you all for coming out. You will be called to a separate room for evaluations or told if you did not make it. As soon as you walk out of this room, you will know your fate with our organization. I look forward to seeing many of you on the other side." And with that, Aven leaves, and the first six names are called. You watch as<<if $cp>> Checl and<</if>> Zihr leave the room, and you wonder if this will be the last time you ever see <<if $cp>>them<<else>>him<</if>>. One by one, more and more people head out. Soon, your entire group has been called, leaving you with the five remaining people. And then, finally, the door opens, and you're called out. You're directed to a room, but you find no one inside. "Fantastic," you mumble, more waiting. You head to a table and sit on top of it. You can't help but think about what may happen once you become a bounty hunter. What happens when old habits sprout, and you kill someone who shouldn't have been killed? You're not sure how long you'll be with this outfit. Checking out too early or behaving like you're not staying will raise suspicion. You'll have to be smart, a task you're becoming sick of. When was the last time you relaxed? The last time you could take a deep breath and enjoy where you were? Your mind comes up with the answer, but you do not wish to think about it. You perk up when the door opens, and a shaph in a far more prestigious uniform than the others walks in with a pad in hand. This isn't just an evaluator; you figure that out by how they carry themselves and the symbols decorating the uniform. You can't help but lean in, curious about what this all may mean. <a data-passage="3.44"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
They offer a friendly nod, greeting, "I'm Commander Sin D'Baloren." Their voice is deep and resounding, the type of voice that enraptures an entire assembly. But there is an edge to it, an afterthought that carries a nurturing edge that could do well with soothing babies. You can see them growing to be one of the elders whose voice alone tells others of their experience and wisdom. The type of elder who's always asked to recount tales and stories. "Guess you're my evaluator?" "Actually, I'm not," they correct, humming lightly as they sit in the chair you refused to take. "But I tend to stick my roots into things that pull at my curiosity." "I do something special?" you question, knowing all too well what you're about to be told. "I believe you already know the answer to that," they chuckle lightheartedly, placing the pad down. "You scored in the top percentile of not just the recruits here but our entire organization. But you already knew that, correct?" [[“I had an idea.”|3.44HadAnIdea]] [[“I don't like to assume.”|3.44LikeToAssume]] [[Remain silent.|3.45]]
You shrug nonchalantly, "I had an idea." "And something tells me that you barely applied yourself." "Why break a sweat when my 30% will get the job done?" The shaph laughs in response. You're beginning to think they're dangerous, not because of their open disposition but solely due to how carefree they sound. They feel like the sort of person who is not prone to anger and has a knack for setting others at ease. Yet, they said they were a commander. No one rises in the ranks by making friends with everyone. People like this are always the most dangerous, mainly because everyone forgets how strategic and cunning they can be. "Cocky, I see." You always hated that word. Trusting in your ability to get shit done when there is enough proof that you do so has never felt like cockiness. You don't brag. You simply inform. But, like many things, what you think and feel hardly matters. <<include "3.45">>
"I don't like to assume," you state, shrugging nonchalantly and causing the shaph to laugh. You're beginning to think they're dangerous, not because of their open disposition but solely due to how carefree they sound. They feel like the sort of person who is not prone to anger and has a knack for setting others at ease. Yet, they said they were a commander. No one rises in the ranks by making friends with everyone. People like this are always the most dangerous, mainly because everyone forgets how strategic and cunning they can be. "Humble," they snort. <<include "3.45">>
None of this shocks you. You're quite sure the Dinami has far more rigorous testing and evaluations, and you managed to get yourself into threat-level U. If anything, you're just happy that you still got it. A year in the desert can either harden someone or make them soft. At the very least, you stayed somewhat the same. [[The same isn't good enough.|3.46SameIsntGoodEnough]] [[Gives you something to fight towards.|3.46SomethingToFightTowards]]
You frown at your own thought. While you remain immutable, Tsering kept training and pushing himself. Before, the two of you were on the same level, and even then, he still had some traits that could tip a fight in his favor. Now, not only do you have a year to catch up, but that's a year of no longer following, watching, and knowing his strengths and weaknesses. The positive? He no longer knows your own moves and you're fueled by something he doesn't have, revenge. <<include "3.46">>
You suppose that just as effortlessly as negatives can be found, so can positives. You have been left unchanged for a year, but at least you know that you need to work harder than ever before. You learned long ago that a cocky mindset is a dangerous psyche to possess. Working for something is far better than remaining at the top with no foreseeable threats. <<include "3.46">>
"Scrubbed records. Odd markings," they trail off as if waiting for you to fill in the blanks. "Looks like we're both in the dark." If they're growing agitated by your dodging, then they show no sign of it, simply examining you much like a handler would a newly acquired caged beast. "I was hoping you wouldn't make it easy on me," they smirk, "I love a good mystery. The only problem is that my bark tells me you're a threat. And I have learned to trust what my bark warns me against. What isn't clear is if you're more of a threat to those around you or to your own hubris." Your frown grows, something they take note of. "This entire time, it feels like a question should arise, and I haven't heard one besides you asking me if I knew the outcome. Say what you need to say." "Are you a threat or not?" You're about to answer, but they interrupt you, "the judges are still deliberating on you. They're not sure if you're worth the trouble." It all makes sense. Why you were given a commander instead of a standard evaluator, and why this specific shaph has been given the job ... or did they take it? They did say they had a problem with sticking their roots where it doesn't belong. <a data-passage="3.46.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And what do you think?" "I haven't made up my mind yet," they answer, cocking their head to the side as they continue to observe you. "But like I said, I love a good mystery." They get to their feet, gathering the pad and looking at it without much care to their actions. "When I leave this room, I will report to them and give them my assessment. I give you this moment to answer my question. Are you a threat?" [[“To those in my way.”|3.46ThoseInMyWay]] [[“More so to myself.”|3.46ToMyself]] [[“I can be.”|3.46ICanBe]] [[“No.”|3.46No][$sin -=5]]
"Yea," you answer, "to those who stand between me and what I want." "And if the Nightwalkers one day find themselves in the middle?" "What if the planet explodes tomorrow? What if I die on a hunt? If. If. If. I can sit here and give you scenario after scenario about what could happen. But I don't know. This place could grow on me." The shaph laughs, but there's an absence of joy, and it feels like they are more intrigued about the future. <<include "3.47">>
"More so to myself than those around me." "That doesn't bode well either." "Yea, but that's my problem. Not yours." <<include "3.47">>
There seems to be little point in lying to someone who seems to know better. You feel like Commander Sin is only asking to see how you will answer anyway. You shrug, "I can be. But can't the same be said about everyone?" "No," they smile, "not everyone has mysterious markings occupying their features." You wonder if your markings would be of concern if you were another species or even if you had a more detailed file. Regardless, you're sick of being reminded of lineaments you know full well are there, and even more, them defining you. <<include "3.47">>
You stare at the shaph, finally answering with a simple but firm, "no." <<include "3.47">>
"Thank you for your honesty." They nod to the courtyard resting outside the lone window in the room. "You can join the others. If you're not approached and cuffed by the time everyone readies to leave, you will have gotten your answer." They turn and head towards the door. "A moment," you shout, and they stop. "If I do make it. I have an aiczeots that was taken when I was arrested. I'd like him returned to me." "Favors already?" Sin grins, and you fight to keep the grimace off your face. That is precisely what this is, and you hate it. [[“Favor for a favor.”|3.46FfF][$sin +=5]] [[“Yes.”|3.46Yes][$sin +=3]] [[“Could do it out of the goodness of your heart.”|3.46GoodHeart][$sin -=3]] [[“I'd do it myself if I could.”|3.46MyselfIfOnly]]
"Favor for a favor." "You believe I'll need or want something from you." "Your curiosity has already proven as much." They release a genuine chuckle and hum. "I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="3.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yes," you murmur. "I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="3.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Or, you can do it out of the goodness of your heart." Sin stares at you for what feels like the longest minute you've ever had to stand through. Finally, they say, "don't presume to know me and what my heart holds. I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="3.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't like it anymore than you probably. If I could do it all myself then I would." Sin raises a brow, "then perhaps you should try that first." "Thing is I know I'll get in trouble. So I'd rather just skip all that and go straight to you." "Wise." They straighten up. "I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="3.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>> <<if hasVisited("3.34LeaveChecl")>> <<set $cp to false; $checl_whereabouts to "jail">> <</if>> <</nobr>>\ Wandering outside, you're immediately overwhelmed by the intensity of the sun. For a few hours, you forget what planet you are residing on. You stand there for a while, part of your attention going to your skin. It has been so long since you've seen the naturally smooth texture that defines all terrans. Since you've gotten to Taouron, it has taken on a far more rigid and tough appearance, all due to the adaptive capabilities that reside in the DNA of all terrans. A quick look around, and you notice that if at least four dozen people had come for the trials, only half of them remain. Rigid but not impossible. Continuing to search, you find <<if $cp>>Checl, Zihr, and Ne0<<else>>Zihr and Ne0<</if>> hanging around a bench. You make your approach, though the idea of this being the last time you see them is a constant in your mind. You're close to ridiculing yourself. Why didn't you have a backup plan? Of course the answer is that you didn't think this would be a problem. You pass, you get in. End of story. But it makes sense. It makes enough sense to piss you off and earn your respect all at the same time. "$name. Greetings," Ne0 acknowledges, giving you a stiff, welcoming nod. "Zihr teach you that?" "Sentient allies. Convenient." <<if $checl_whereabouts is "jail">>\ "Where's Checl?" Zihr shakes his head. "She didn't make it. Scored a two." You're not sure if you should feign shock or not. You had a feeling that she wouldn't. Zihr continues, choosing to look elsewhere. "But that doesn't shock either of us, does it? I'm just sorry that she even tried. She should've just accepted her sentence and paid it. There was no need to bring her down this far." That much you can agree on. When you heard about the fourth trial, you knew Checl wouldn't score high enough. That third trial was her only hope. You say nothing in response. Thankfully, Zihr doesn't seem like he's waiting for your thoughts. <<else>>\ "So it seems we all made it." <<if $cp>>\ "Thankfully," Checl sighs, releasing a breath that you're sure she's been holding in for some time. "How did your evaluation go?" "Interesting," you answer. It's hard to judge when there was less evaluating and more questioning on the likelihood of you threatening the organization. Zihr seems less than pleased with that answer, but what else is new? <<elseif $ticketforone>>\ He doesn't reply, reminding you he still has a grudge against what you did at the wall. You doubt that will be a problem that fixes itself soon, if at all. <<else>>\ "Seems so," Zihr replies, "how did your evaluation go?" "Interesting," you answer. It's hard to judge when there was less evaluating and more questioning on the likelihood of you threatening the organization. Zihr seems less than pleased with that answer, but what else is new? <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.49"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Congratulations to all of you," Proctor Aven says, "I know you'll miss my voice, but this is where I say goodbye. It has been an honor to oversee the next group of Nightwalker Bounty Hunters. A shuttle is waiting out front to take you all to the headquarters. There you will be given additional information and assigned a handler. So, the last thing I will say is to be mindful, be vigilant, and walk faithfully into the night." And with that, he nods and those who remain all begin to leave the area. You join them, your eyes glancing from one official to the next as you go. You only calm down when you see Commander Sin amongst the others. Their eyes meet yours, and they give you a subtle nod and a sly smile. So, you're in the clear. Good, saves you some mild panic and the need to devise a hastily assembled plan. You load the shuttle, heading to the back and believing you'll get a section to yourself. That belief vanishes when <<if $cp>>the three sit beside and across from you, excitedly speaking to one another.<<else>>the other two sit across from you, keeping their voices low and their conversation between one another.<</if>> You pay them no mind, resting your gaze outside the window. This is a milestone. Not only does it allow you to put distance between you and the Dinami, but it also gives you a way off of Crion and the ability to learn and track those you need to find. You'll also be supplied with gear, weapons, and a way to hone skills that have been neglected for too long. How long will you stay with them? Will you take the first chance you get or play a longer game? There is a number of years you're supposed to devote to the organization, but you're sure the Dinami will help you shirk those responsibilities. There will be time for plotting. At the moment, you wish to rest a weary mind. The shuttle takes off, and you watch as the ground grows distant, the sky nearing as you merge into the sky lanes and head toward Tebriri. What comes next, you can only guess. <a data-passage="3.50"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<h3>//Location Unknown …//</h3> "What the fuck now?" is all Tsering can mumble as he wanders into the comm room. He hates this room. It's stuffy and a waste of space, used solely to communicate with the Hoods. Whenever the main comms room goes down, or someone can't make a call because all the areas are occupied, he thinks about this place. How this room can fit at least another ten consoles but instead has only one large one. "Yes," he mumbles, scratching the area near his neck slit in irritation as he nods to the room controller, "because your inner rants will change this." That verbal thought irks him more than any other, but he buries it, putting on a mask that he abhors but has become familiar with. The room fades to black until a soothing blue light appears, lighting up five figures. They each sit on their own level and carry a nauseatingly grandiose demeanor. "And what great honor was granted upon me to gain the right to stand before the greats?" "Leave your snark at the door, Tsering," one of them comments, not that Tsering could ever tell which. He's only met one of the Hoods, and to say that the meeting was underwhelming is putting it mildly. He just barely made out their species, nothing else. The rest of them are nothing more than disembodied voices to him, probably exactly what they want. "No snark at all, your Greatness. In fact, quite the opposite. I'm truly honored." They remain quiet for a beat longer before continuing on. "We believed you would find this interesting," one of them speaks, typing away at their terminal. <a data-passage="3.51"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
A few seconds later and a large holo screen appears. Tsering's eyes flit across the screen, schooling his expression when $name's face appears. To say he's surprised would be a lie. He knew about the still-functioning shields, and he's gone back and forth about whether he had done the right thing by not disabling them. $name is undoubtedly unique, but he didn't believe ?him capable of surviving a fall from that height. He wouldn't make that mistake again if he lived long enough to do so. "?He <<verb "looks">> dead, <<verb "does">> ?he not?" Tsering readies his retort, biting his tongue at the last minute. Sometimes it's hard to remember whose presence he stands in front of. No, that's a lie. He knows damn well who they are, he just finds himself caring less and less, and that type of negligence will see him in trouble far quicker than careless forgetfulness. "Did you call me in here to punish me?" "Not yet," another voice reports. "Your mission should prove simple. Bring in $name Moran, alive." "Simple?" Tsering chuckles, "I kicked ?him off a damn plane, and it probably only pissed ?him off. But you all want me to bring ?him in alive." "Again, should prove simple." There is a note of finality to their words, one that Tsering has heard time and time again. Either he excels here, or he comes back to accept death. He succeeded in the former any other time, but this isn't some simple-minded target who believes themselves ingenious and untouchable. This is $name. <a data-passage="3.52"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We will supply you with all you need." "Like a rocket launcher?" he mumbles under his breath. "We are giving you this chance, and this chance only, to fix your oversight." "Try not to disappoint us a second time." The Hoods fade from view, and the room they sit in follows soon after. Tsering once again finds himself surrounded by the bland metallic walls of the comm room. He holds his tongue, aware of the numerous cameras that plague the area, the halls, and the rooms. His walking doesn't cease until he is outside, leaning on a rail and focusing on the perpetual harsh winds that plague the nights of this planet. Most nights, he found himself verbally complaining about it. And most nights, $name would beg him to shut up about it. Or poke fun at him. <<if $dinami >=50>>He always knew their time would be limited, he just didn't wish to end it the way that he did.<<else>>He never thought their time would come to an end, and if it did, then it would merely be due to them saying their goodbyes. This … what he did …<</if>> It doesn't matter. None of it does. It's done. <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>And yet, seeing ?his_ face stroked something deep within him. Something that hasn't necessarily been quiet since that day in the plane but has at least spared him from whatever all this is. Seeing ?his_ face awakened emotions too tricky to bury, and if he has been making any progress, all of it is gone now. There's no answer for what he's done, especially for someone he claims to admire and have feelings towards.<<else>>It feels hard to pinpoint his feelings after an entire solar cycle has been completed. He can still remember the days when he would do almost anything to get $name's attention, literally glowing when the terran complimented him. He yearned for ?his praise more than anything, and when he gained ?his friendship … Well, one doesn't do what he did to a friend.<</if>> But he isn't seeking forgiveness, and with that, he straightens, looking to the right in the spot that $name once occupied. This was never going to be easy; he knew that when he decided this to be his course. Pushing himself away from the railing, he lets the wind strike him one last time and gazes around, soaking all of it in. It no longer feels right to be here. To stand in an area once shared between two friends or whatever they may have called each other. This area is for them, a memory, and it should stay that way. He leaves. He'll be seeing $name very soon anyway. <a data-passage="3.53"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<h3>//Cafe Dintrila on Miarilia …//</h3> Taking a long sip of his drink, Jarill closes his eyes and basks in the steam and warmth his cup of temper offers him. It has been a long day, filled with utter disappointment. As a scientist, his patience is vast but not indefinite, and though he thought he'd never see the day, he finds himself questioning his profession. Or at least this specific project. A project that he's devoted a good chunk of his life to. Just thinking of such desertion leaves him feeling hollow and confused about who he is and will become. "Baron Jarill," a smartly dressed woman greets, approaching his table and taking a seat without invitation. Though he supposes she has no need for one. He wouldn't be sitting here if she hadn't extended an invitation. An invitation. He snorts as he takes another sip, this one much longer, and sees him finishing his beverage. No, this is more on par with a summoning. No one tells a baroness of Larikiias' status no. No one wise, anyway. Following the trarkran baroness is a terran woman wearing the baroness' colors, but her outfit is not one he typically sees servants in. She seems far more ready to infiltrate a heavily fortified building than to deliver temper and clean the floors. He shoos the thought away, another plaything Larikiias has found herself enraptured by. She will soon break her, and he'll see another within a seasoning. "Why did you summon me?" "Allow me to enjoy my drink first before peppering me with your questions." "And if I decline?" "Then this is for not. Because I will leave." Her attention shifts to the server, "the blossom temper, with a double serving of spiced laviia." The server nods and scurries away, Larikiias not missing a beat. <a data-passage="3.54"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Fine," Jarill growls, "let us speak about your temple fights. How have they been going?” He winces when Larikiias clicks her tongue in disapproval, gesturing to the woman standing at her side. "I haven't put one on since my last lovely winner. Seben, manners." The woman shows no sign of hearing the Baroness and continues to gaze around, alert and focused. Larikiias seems to grow impatient before nodding in acknowledgment, bringing up her abacus terminal. She types a few lines in before turning her attention to the woman for a second time. "Seben?" The terran places her attention on Jarill, giving him a nod that he supposes is meant to be a greeting. His frown grows, but he says nothing on the topic. "Can we please get to whatever you summoned me -" Larikiias raises a finger, and he obediently goes quiet. She thanks the server as he delivers her drink and takes a single sip before focusing back on him. "Have you made any progress in your work since losing your beloved terran?" "No. $name's blood was integral to my work. And I haven't yet discovered the cause to duplicate that onto others." "So you need ?him for more than just sentimental reasons," she nods, "and what would my help cost?" "I'm not asking you for your help," he corrects. "I think you will find yourself reconsidering such a stance." She holds her hand out for something, and without missing a beat, the terran woman, Seben, places a screen in Larikiias' waiting palm. She spends a few seconds typing something on the holographic screen before sliding the lightweight, flat object his way. Instead of taking it, he leans in, curious, until a familiar face appears. He watches as the terran with spotted $markings markings is walked towards a police transfer vehicle, the announcer declaring that <<if $cp>>five<<else>>four<</if>> other attackers also were taken in custody. Taouron. ?He <<verb "is">> in Taouron. Even more, ?he <<verb "is">> alive. Jarill's two hearts rapidly begin to beat, hammering in his chest at what this news may mean. Then it all freezes, and his gaze unsteadily rises to meet that of Larikiias. <a data-passage="3.55"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"As I see it. You have nothing to aid you while I, on the other hand, do." "Why?" "Because greater things have arisen. Things greater than you and I and this paltry competition we once were part of. This is no longer about supplying the trarkran science world with new information. It is about securing our future." "You have never been one to dress up words. Explain." "We need an army. You can help supply that army. Anything more you will not receive until I know you are on our side." "Our?" Larikiias raises a brow, and he understands he will be receiving no answer. "Do we have a deal?" The terrans have a saying, one that he has grown fond of due to his wife and now, Larikiias. //Don't trust those residing beneath the lava.// Simply put, don't trust those who don't even fear the wrath and the power of the lava. His gaze falls back to the video, paused on $name's face as ?he <<verb 'is'>> guided into the prison transporter. ?He <<verb "is">> not only alive, but there is a chance that Jarill's research will not be entirely in vain. Even more, so many more tests can be run and so much more discovered. To give up now … what will his life become? What will his legacy be? He has strived all his life to be the scientist he has always been destined to be. To throw it away now ... to walk away and discover something new ... it's something he just can't do. He looks up and nods, "deal." "Wise," Larikiias nods, retrieving the holo screen. She takes another sip of her drink and then a bite of her dessert, one that Jarill hadn't noticed being delivered. After, she types something on her terminal. Jarill watches as the terran blinks, but there is something different with her eyes. She seems responsive, far more than when he had first seen her, but there is something else there, something that makes him feel as if he has descended into danger. "Seben," Larikiias hums with a subtle smile, almost like a mother trying to persuade her child to do something, "it's time to hunt." <a data-passage="DemoEnd"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<h3>End of the Demo</h3> That is the end of the demo. There is no set date at this time for this project to be released. Follow my [[tumblr|13leaguestories.tumblr.com]] to keep up with updates or perhaps consider joining my [[Patreon|https://www.patreon.com/13Leagues]] for updates, sneak peeks, and a whole bunch more goodies. Thank you!
<<nobr>>\ <<set $guards_dead = false; $injury_leg to false>> <<playlist "flashback" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img src="images/ch_2.png"> <span class ="flashback">A quick jostling and you find yourself awake with what feels like a knot on the left side of your head. It takes less than a minute to remember where you are and what has probably transpired for you to have gained such a bruise. The auction has awakened. A glance up tells you the time of day, and due to not hearing a roaring crowd, you at least know that it has only just opened itself to the public. The auctioneers will be glancing over notes, learning who will be in attendance, and walking the halls to look at the stock to decide how best to pitch their sales. The technicians will be manning the containers and prepping the next merchandise haul. You can practically envision the guards sharpening their weapons, bored because they, just like you, know nothing will warrant their use. Those who wish to make an appearance will just now be making their way inside, while others bid from a distance. In the past, your group has been lucky. Or that is the word you once thought best to describe your situation. Soon you learned it wasn't luck at all but simply time. The hundred or so bodies crammed in the container are only one of the hundreds existing down here, and it merely has not been your turn. "$name?" Camila questions, her eyes fluttering open, and her grip on your arm tightens. "I'm here," you whisper to her, finding your voice as hoarse as before. Your captors fail to remember how much water you need and have done a terrible job keeping you hydrated. A terran's body is made to adapt to their surroundings, and though all of your bodies have been doing just that, there is only so much adapting a body can do.</span> [[To make it worse, you usually give it to Camila.|2.00HerDrink][$attitude +=5]] [[You drank whenever they remembered.|2.00MyDrink]] [[You had yours and stolen those of others.|2.00TheirDrink][$attitude -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">A few drips would be all you took before handing the rest of your water to Camila. Always making sure to get enough to coat your throat and stave off whatever side effects were skulking their way to the surface. The rest would be Camila's. Those who noticed this had once tried to interfere and take it for themselves, but Dante put a stop to that quickly.</span> <<include "2.00">>
<span class ="flashback">They typically gave half a liter to each of you, and then days would pass before they repeated the cycle. Most of you learned to conserve water. Bloody nails were an unfortunate consequence of picking at enough rock to form a hole to hold water. You watched as decent people became monsters to their needs — fighting and sometimes killing simply to get more than what was given. At first, some would step in<<if $dante_brave>>, Dante being one of them<</if>>. But as time passed, all those who sought to maintain peace realized they didn't hold the energy for such preservation. And so, a death became a death.</span> <<include "2.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">It was a lesson you learned from another while watching him bully three children into giving up their water. As they let out guttural-sounding sobs, the man lapped up every bit of water he now had, deaf to their howls. Dante argued with you when you first proposed doing the same, but that was another lesson you learned. Sometimes, even when others are not on your side, you still have to do what is best for you. Thirst became less of a problem after that.</span> <<include "2.00">>
<span class ="flashback">"What's going on?" your sister asks, her question repeated by others now waking up. Your cell's barely transparent force field vanishes as a group of guards walks into view. They speak amongst themselves at first, speaking in a language so harsh and profound that you had given up trying to discern one word from the next. The guards move in and, like cattle, easily split you into four groups. You release a sigh of relief to find that your remaining family stands beside you. The coordinating guard then issues more orders, and one by one, you're marched out of the cell and down a hallway. The first part feels familiar, a dank hallway smelling of sulfur. Shards of prismatic glass dangle from the ceiling, acting as torches as you walk further. You turn down another corridor into a large, square room that mirrors the hallways' appearance. The only difference is that the floor feels sticky and mechanical bars stick out of the walls. The entryways close, and a foreign, robotic voice begins to speak. The mechanical bars move, spraying a slick and olid kind of liquid over all that has been assembled. You're sure you're meant to feel clean, but you leave the area feeling the opposite. Instead, you feel like an intruder in your own skin. You wish to gain freedom but find this glistening prison to be your tomb. The looming smell of fetid musk and ammonia no longer grips your nostrils, but another has only replaced it. You now enter a hall where you see your first rays of light. But it is short-lived as the guards refuse to let any of you stop. Every sliver of light you walk by mocks you. The warmth is there. It calls for you, and then suddenly, you are in front of it. You shy away from the intense heat that greets you, a welcomed encroacher that refuses to leave once you have asked it to depart. The thought that continues to ricochet through your mind is that this is not your sun. This is the sun of an alien who stole you from your home, killed your family, and took you far away.</span> [[Bile rises in your throat.|2.00Sick]] [[It's hard to feel anything more than numbness.|2.00Numbness]] [[You fight against tears.|2.00Tears]]
<span class ="flashback">The disgusting feeling of bile rising causes you to look away and stare at the ground. You need to focus on something, anything besides the giant, light blue flaming mass in the sky. Yet, even as you tell yourself not to think of it, your mind replays the massive size of the star, the color, and how you can hardly even look towards it without your retinas feeling like they'll shrivel. You choke on the chunky liquid in your throat, saved only by the soothing voice of Dante as he distracts your mind.</span> <<include "2.01">>
<span class ="flashback">You've lost count of how long you had been in that container. All you know is that it's been too long, and after so much time, the thought of Terra Genesis feels more like some foreign thought that invades your mind less and less. You, like everyone else, have long since stopped crying. Instead, you stare into a void and wonder what this world will turn you into. Already, your skin has hardened to combat the overwhelming heat. Your insides shifting to adapt to the lack of water it receives. Physical changes have already occurred, and you know that all of you are simply waiting for the emotional and mental impact.</span> <<include "2.01">>
<span class ="flashback">Tears rush to your eyes, surprising you that you still have tears to shed. How many times have you cried since arriving here? Tears for a fallen family and a house and planet you may never see again. Tears for your sister and brother and the situation that you feel is hopeless.</span> <<include "2.01">>
<span class ="flashback">A guard grunts and points to a large dome-like platform where others are and begin to separate you into groups of ten. You're corralled to a circle where a force field appears as soon as the last person steps onto it, and the platform shifts, moving you away. The world on the other side of the force field is basically nonexistent. You can barely make out moving figures, but that's it. The only thing that has a true force is the sun. Omniscient amongst everything else. Though none of you can see, you can hear the proceedings. Though that does little for you when you fail to understand what is being said. Along with the auctioneer, you can hear an automated voice that cuts in and out as new bids are placed. For something so fast, it is ridiculous how orderly it all seems. The auctioneer will scream, the automated voice will ring out, and your platform will shift as you surmise a new group is up for the bid. One thing that you notice is that everyone in a circle is moved. It doesn't seem like individuals are being bid on, but all those within. Or at least that is what you tell yourself to not panic. You need hope, no matter how foolish it seems. The platform moves, and this time a bright light shines overhead, spotlighting all of you within. You can now make out some of those on the other side. Despite your assumptions, the crowd is relatively small. Perhaps a hundred at most when you previously believed there to be thousands due to the volume. You fail to make out faces. All the figures are simply that, figures. But you realize that at least one of these faces will be something more shortly. One of these faces will look upon all of you standing in this circle and chart your future. And you tremble as you realize there is nothing you can do.</span> <a data-passage="2.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<playlist "flashback" stop>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Slinging the last pack onto $hound's back, you take a moment to look around the area you have grown accustomed to for the past year. A different person would say that it has changed them, helped them to develop crucial skills, or taught lessons that would stick with them for the rest of their lives. And in all regards, you would not condone an individual for thinking such a thing. The Outlands could be jeopardous, and its occupants would cause many to reevaluate their thoughts on society and the decency of others. But, luckily, or more so, unfortunately, you have learned far too many lessons from past occupations and events. The Outlands had nothing to teach you, not even how to wait patiently for your time to act. Tightening the strap, you wonder if the past year will disappear behind a misty cloud and simply be a time you remember every so often. "$name," Checl greets, coming to your side and looking around the area with a critical eye, "are you going to miss it?" [[Snort, “what do you think?”|2.02Snort]] [[“It was an interesting vacation.”|2.02Vacation]] [[“Parts of me want to stay.”|2.02Stay]] [[Don't answer.|2.02DontAnswer]]
Gazing around, you release a snort before resting your eyes on Checl, "what do you think?" "I hardly know much about you. For all I know, you enjoyed your time here." "I spent time here, and that's the end of it. I hardly think I'll remember most of it. Maybe only that this is where I met the two of you." "Then at least something good came out of it." She says this with a bit of hope in her voice, and though you take note of it, you say nothing else on the topic. <<include "2.03">>
"It was an interesting enough vacation, at least." "Did you say vacation?" She gazes around, and the look of disgust spreads. "Yes, come down to the urine-covered streets of the Dread Outlands. We will rob you for free." "I was robbed only once," you chuckle, "and I got my money back soon after." "Not all of us are as merciless and lucky as you." You almost snort at her calling you lucky. That is one trait you will never use to describe yourself. <<include "2.03">>
"Part of me would rather stay here." "What?" she asks in understandable astonishment. You shrug, "there are far worse things than this little desert den." A sickening smile appears, "hotter and far more ruthless worlds." "And you've seen them?" "Lived on them. Explored. Escaped. Yes." Your frown deepens, but you shoo the thoughts from your mind, or more so, simply place them on a shelf to return to later. You always find yourself returning to them. <<include "2.03">>
You hear the question, but your silence may cause some to believe you haven't. Thankfully, Checl knows you well enough to understand what your silence means, and though it never keeps her from speaking, it does lessen the questions targeted at you. <<include "2.03">>
"I won't miss it. I was ready to leave the moment I stepped foot here." "Seeking to rejoin your ark?" "Probably not," she inhales, then exhales even slower. "So many of my brothers and sisters were stolen. I don't want to return and not see their faces." Her frown deepens. "What's going to happen once we're out of here?" "We have to first get out of here," you seek to remind her. "Yes, but we have you. There's no way we won't get through the Spires." You release a sad chuckle, "I'm not omnipotent, Checl." "No, I know." Her feathers rise as her mandibles seem to vibrate slightly in embarrassment. [[“I'll try my best.”|2.03TryBest]] [[“Don't put this on me.”|2.03PutThisOnMe]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Is that embarrassment I see?”|2.03Embarrassment][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Is that embarrassment I see?”|2.03Embarrassment][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“That's adorable.”|2.03Adorable]] [[Say nothing.|2.04]]
You smirk at how she attempts to settle down, looking back over the vast desert landscape that has become something familiar over the past year. "I'll try my best." "What happens if we don't make it?" "Losing faith in me that quick?" you question, smiling as yet again she looks embarrassed, "that has to be a record." "No! Of course not. What I mean … I mean …" she sighs, shaking her head as if tired, "I don't know what I mean. I guess anything can happen, and though none of us know what will, assurance is always nice." <<include "2.04">>
"Don't put your life in my hands," you tell her, "I have enough on my plate just trying to focus on me. I don't need you and this band of misfits also relying on me." "You're going to have us relying on you regardless of whether you like it or not," she points out. "Then keep it to yourself. I don't need the added stress." <<include "2.04">>
"Checl," you tsk with a playful smile, "is that embarrassment I see?" "You say that as if you haven't seen me embarrassed before." "Yes, but I always make it my mission to bring attention to it. If only to see you perform that pout you always like to do." No sooner than you speak these words does she begin to pout, her eyes widening once the rest of your sentence is out. She tries to wipe it away, failing. You let out a relaxed chuckle, wishing to poke her cheek but taking to admiring her instead. She's beautiful, a fact that harbors no room to argue or deny. You recall the first time you had seen a zeach. You had heard about them far before ever seeing one and had already decided to dispute the points of their so-called boundless beauty. It was a hard-fought battle, but you felt confident in your victory. Until you saw another that saw you questioning your own beliefs, and then Checl, who you begrudgingly admitted to being a head turner. Not much has changed since then, only your openness in reminding her of her attractiveness. <a data-passage="2.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You're unable to keep the snort to yourself as you look her over, "that's adorable." "What is?" "Your language might have a word for it, but you're blushing. It's when you're embarrassed in a good way." "Blushing," she carefully pronounces, "how do terrans show that?" "Our cheeks heat up. You can sometimes see the color change depending on the person's skin tone." "That sounds like it hurts." "It actually can, depending on how hard you blush. It's not something we can stop or start." "Perhaps we do have a word. Startled?" You bring up your chip's settings and pause the translator, "repeat it." "Tyawnil." You nod and un-pause the device. "Our feathers will sprawl out in different directions as if attempting to flee. It hurts, but we can wait for the pain to pass." It isn't the same, but you've long since learned that some things never are. <a data-passage="2.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
She looks like she wants to say more, but the sound of someone clearing their throat causes you to turn and face whomever. "It's time," Zihr informs, not wasting a second more as he heads back towards the wagon. Checl sighs dreamily before moving to join him, but you stay where you are, gazing out at the market that has yet to rise. You feel ready, but are you? Is this just carefully set bravado you have grown used to placing over your fear? Once you leave this area, everything that has been building up inside will finally find itself front and center. There's no more hiding behind the excuse of being unable to do anything about it or being locked to the Outlands. Turning and wandering back to the others, you approach just as Prourc finishes whatever speech he deems necessary enough to give. He turns to you, "and you understand that this may not go in your favor?" [[“Tell me five more times first.”|2.04FiveMoreTimes][$view +=3]] [[“There goes that worry again.”|2.04GoesMyWorry][$humor +=3]] [[“I'll be fine.”|2.04BeFine][$humor -=3]] [[Nod.|2.04Nod][$view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> "Perhaps after you tell me the same thing five more times." Prourc frowns but you ignore him. <<include "2.05">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "There you go worrying about me again. Careful, Prourc, someone may think you care if you carry on this way." He grumbles something, but you ignore him. <<include "2.05">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++</span><</if>> "I'll be fine," you tell him, hardly paying him any mind. <<include "2.05">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You simply nod your head, your focus on something else entirely now. <<include "2.05">>
He does remind you of a good point. What will you do if the money you have for the bribe doesn't do its job? You have never found yourself in a position like this, relying on nothing more than money to help you out of a precarious situation. You can't rely on Dinami contacts or Tsering's annoying yet effective magnetism for aid. There may be a side entrance set up by the Dinami, but you may be imagining things for the sake of your own sanity. If it wasn't complete suicide, you'd just fight your way in. "Are you two ready?" Prourc questions his guards, recapturing your attention. An idea blossoms to life. "Prourc, your papers." Though he gives you a questionable look, he hands them over, and you flip to the page in question. Just like you thought, the guard information is minimal. Simply their names, nothing to do with their species or outward appearance. Your eyes swivel over to them as a few situations come to mind. How easy would it be to stage an unfortunate accident? To forget to cover someone's back as a bullet instead cripples then takes their life away. Taking on another's name holds no issue, and Checl can easily claim to be the lone zeach's daughter. The money you handed Prourc can then be used inside Taouron instead of relying on hope to help guide you from there. "$name?" Prourc questions, and you hand the travel papers back, "find what you were looking for?" "No," you lie, "but my curiosity is sated." You'll have time to figure out what you want to do. It would be beyond foolish to try and make a move now, especially not knowing what weapons they hold and what they can do with said weapons. <a data-passage="2.06"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Is everyone ready? This is it." Looking over all those that face him, Prourc nods and pats the side of the <<link 'dhole'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>><img src="images/species/dhole.png" align="right" width="30%">The dhole is a two legged, avian creature with a feathered tail and strong yet thin legs that lead up to a streamlined body. They have thick short necks that can be extended when needed. Their eyes rest upon a crest with a sizeable beak. Though carnivores, they are peaceful and relatively gentle creatures that only grow aggressive when protecting their young. Along with this, they are surprisingly trustworthy, allowing many to tame them easily as long as said tamer is patient. They are a hardy creature, though used more during the ages before speeders. During the height of their use, they were used by nomads. Though slow, they could tackle dozens of miles without food and water and survive extreme temperatures, making them into a popular cart puller. Now, they are typically raised as simple farm animals for their feathers and eggs or left to roam the desert wilderness in peace.<</dialog>><</link>> before getting up onto his wagon. "Then let us be off." And thus, you are. Not once do you care to turn around to see how far from the Outlands you travel. You can easily estimate it due to the growing spires in the distance. Soon, you'll be amongst them, just like that day you were pushed to your death by a pair of hands you once trusted. "It's really odd." You hear Checl say and turn to see her dissecting your surroundings. "You hear about how deadly this place is and never about how beautiful." It's not hard for you to agree. What was once hard-packed sand turned into a mix of both compact and loose. It differs in color from that of the Outlands, whereas there, it's a dark brown that reminds you far more of dirt. This area is a lovely white, brown, and sandy shade, all mixing together. A few plants and shrubs poke out of the ground, showcasing their resilience for those of curious minds. More commonly, you spot flat and jagged crystals that cause an otherwise beautiful but simple landscape to come to life. They shimmer brightly under the sun's rays, glistening with pride amongst the desert landscape. If you remember correctly, a few of them are edible and provide various minerals. <<if $smart >=10>>Checl heads towards one, but you stop her, "unless you wish to burn your hand. It's wiser for you to just continue." She nods, glancing at her previous target before taking you up on your advice.<<else>>You watch as Checl heads towards one of the crystals, moving to touch it and screaming soon after. She yanks her hand back to her side and whimpers, turning to all of you. "It burned me." "Yes," Zihr mumbles, rolling his eyes, "who would've guessed that crystals existing directly under the sun would be hot?" <<if $medical >=10>>You walk to her side and silently motion for her to give you her hand. She does so, wincing as you loo it over. "You'll be fine. This gel will cool and then ease the pain." You remove the gel in question from your pack and slather a healthy amount on her palm, rubbing it in to make sure it's absorbed. "Thank you," she grins and you nod. "If it makes you feel better," you start, managing a small smile, "I wouldn't have expected them to be hot either." You leave to join the others who have continued.<<else>>No one says anything, and Checl, now distraught, continues with the rest of you.<</if>><</if>> <a data-passage="2.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your mind travels to everything, yet nothing, as the mundane journey stretches on. The excitement that once possessed your companions has been stolen by the sun's intensity. It tickles you just how quickly moods have shifted from ones so jovial and stirred. You ponder if this elatement will return once the sun sets. The night is never long here, and even with the descension of the sun, the heat is a constant. But perhaps its absence will change minds. You don't have long to see. As the sun begins to set, the caravan slows. "We should rest here for the night," Prourc voices and you and Zihr seem to share the same thought. "We're still in nightbeast territory," Zihr informs before you have the chance. "We won't make it out of nightbeast territory in time," the zeach points out, "but if we continue further, we won't have the necessary ingredients to make a bonfire." [[“You chose a dhole.”|2.08Dhole]] [[“Grab ingredients as we go then.”|2.08Ingredients]] <<if $smarts >=10>>\[[“The fire itself, doesn't matter.”|2.08Fire]]<</if>>\ [[Unpack.|2.08Unpack]]
Patting the side of the dhole, you gaze at him and nod to it, "you're the one who chose a dhole." "They are hardy creatures," he states defensively. "More like cheap. We would probably be halfway by now if you had gotten a speeder." "And risk running out of gas or becoming an even bigger target to raiders?" "You're a pretty big target already," Zihr grumbles. "Either of you can gladly head back to the Outlands and see if you can find and buy a speeder for the journey. Accomplish that, and then I will be fine with you complaining your hearts out. Until then, shut up." You hide a smirk while Zihr exhibits a scowl as Prourc walks away. <<include "2.08">>
"Then the smartest course of action would be that you grab items as we go." "That would make us travel even slower." "I agree with $name," Zihr states, the two of you exchanging glances and shuddering. "It's better than just sitting here. The further we go, the fewer nightbeasts we'll find." "Not true," Prourc corrects, "we're in their territory regardless. And must I remind you that a bonfire will keep them at bay? Thirdly, if you don't stop complaining about my decision, I may rescind my invitation for you to sit by said fire." You hide a smirk while Zihr exhibits a scowl as Prourc walks away. <<include "2.08">>
"The fire itself doesn't matter," you remind all those listening as you take off $hound's saddlebags, "it's what you're burning that keeps them away." "Yes, we know that," Zihr grumbles. "Then you probably also know that the deeper we go, the less shrubbery we'll find that actually has the seeds we need to burn for the nightbeasts to leave us be." Zihr is rendered quiet, and with a satisfied snort, Prourc wanders off. <<include "2.08">>
If Prourc wishes to rest here, nothing more can be said. The zeach is stubborn and probably feels like he planned this entire trip wisely. For all you know, he has. At the end of the day, questioning him will only cause him to persist. <<include "2.08">>
After removing all of $hound's bags, you pat the beast's side and start looking for items to make the bonfire. Everyone splits up, grabbing rocks, removing the thin shrubs, and collecting whatever can help a fire thrive. "Alright, $name." You turn to see Prourc approaching you, an arm full of items. "Why did you need to look over my papers?" "Inventory reasons." You shrug, focusing back on your task. "Interesting, especially seeing that you haven't taken a look at my inventory once." [[“I sold you most of it.”|2.08SoldMost]] [[“I had Checl check.”|2.08CheclCheck]] [[“Don't ask stupid questions.”|2.08StupidQ]] [[“What do you want me to say?”|2.08WantMeToSay]] [[“Do you really want to know?”|2.08ReallyWannaKnow]]
"That's because I sold you most of that inventory. I already know what you have." Despite your words holding fragments of truth, both of you know as a whole it's a lie. He knows of your antics and the signs that predate them, unfortunately. <<include "2.09">>
"Why would I check when I can run any questions by Checl? You know, the one taking stock for you?" He nods, "you are correct. The same one that hasn't started yet." You stare at him, and he back at you. There's little you can say. Prourc knows of your antics and knows the signs, unfortunately. <<include "2.09">>
Shrugging, you say, "look. You asked a stupid question, so don't be surprised when you get a stupid answer." "I was hoping for an honest one." You very much doubt that. Prourc knows you well enough not to expect one. <<include "2.09">>
Releasing a deep sigh, you ask, "what do you want me to say?" "The truth. Though I know how hard it is for you to give that." "Then why ask for it?" you question, rolling your eyes. <<include "2.09">>
"Do you really want to know, Prourc? Or are you asking simply because you're curious?" <<include "2.09">>
"Just tell me this, will it compromise //my// goal?" "No," you answer honestly, "in fact, it may help it." He nods, "then continue on." He walks back towards the wagon, stopping and glancing over his shoulder, "just be careful." <a data-passage="2.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As the night grows closer, the tension that surrounds the fire rises. Once the sun disappears, it will only be a matter of time before the howls of the nightbeasts begin to ring out, warning all that their relentless hunt has started. You eat a can of what you think are beans. They're shaped like beans, and the texture reminds you of such, but the bright coloring and slightly sweet taste bring forth thoughts of fruit. "What are everyone's plans once we enter the city?" Checl questions, disturbing the silence that had settled in nicely. At first, no one answers. Everyone's attention is on their food and whatever thoughts plague them. This prolongs for so long that you almost doubt anyone will answer her until Prourc does. "Well, we all know why I'm going, but I'm hoping to just make a living." "And the Outlands wasn't doing that for you?" Zihr asks. "No one makes a living in the Outlands. They survive and make do. I'd like to see people more interested in what they're buying and not just buying it because they can resell it, or it'll help get them to the next day. I've always wanted to sell items with a story behind them. And I'd much rather that story be a tale than simply being, my local prowler got it for me." You snort as he tosses a look toward you. He shrugs and relaxes. "I want a simple life that I can be proud and comfortable with. This is the route I chose." "You have that simplicity then," one of the guards laugh, a hoarseness to their voice, "I'm going to spend every solar on some fresh ass and a decent mug." Their partner almost spits out their food, turning to them and asking, "and when you find you got no more solars left?" "Well," the foolish guard smiles joyously, "I'll think about that then." A simple brow raise is all you offer the line of thinking before your attention shifts to Zihr. <a data-passage="2.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
He shrugs, moving away from Checl's probing shoves, "I don't know. The things I want to learn and do aren't in Taouron or even Tebriri." He frowns as he throws a speck of sand into the fire, "or maybe they are. I just don't know how to go about finding it." "Finding what?" Checl questions. "My family. Or at least learn how I got in the Outlands." "You weren't born here?" Zihr shakes his head, "if I was, then something happened where I became separated from my family. Either way, I don't know anything about my home." "I suppose I don't know anything about either of you." Her glance shifts to you, and you can imagine the questions she wishes to ask you. Thankfully, Zihr grabs her attention before the air can turn awkward. "What about you? I wouldn't know what to guess you're heading to Taouron for." "She's a zeach," the guard who had spoken of their future endeavors states, "she's there to be a dancer." "I'm not," Checl sighs, indicating that she has already grown tired of the premature conversation. "Doesn't matter," they shrug, "that's all you guys are really good at." They nod at Prourc, "and selling bullshit, it seems." [[“Hey, let her speak.”|2.11LetHerSpeak][$checl +=3]] [[“Rich coming from you.”|2.11RichFromYou][$checl +=3]] [[Say nothing.|2.11SayNothing][$checl -=3]]
"Hey!" you shout, finally including yourself in the conversation, "let her speak." "I'm just saying," they grumble, but otherwise, they grow quiet, and after clearing her throat and giving you a grateful nod, Checl continues. <<include "2.12">>
"That's mighty rich coming from you," you snort, lazily gazing over at them, a terran who looks like they are of no actual importance. You can't tell if they're a Geniser or Primer, and they are certainly not a Tetigit. Blank, you think before continuing on, "you just told us you're going to waste all your money on ass and alcohol, something a lot of pathetic guards end up doing." "What did you just call me, half-breed?" You make to answer, but Checl speaks up before they can, sighing wistfully as she continues her latter thoughts. <<include "2.12">>
You remain silent, almost wishing that the others would do the same so that you can enjoy yourself. "Do remember who is helping you to get into Taouron, terran," Prourc reminds, and the guard raises their hands as if to surrender the point. "I'm just saying. Point to one zeach who does anything meaningful. You guys are predictable." "Says the guard looking to waste their solars getting wasted and fucked all night long," Zihr says in disgust, causing the guard to lean forward with a toothy grin. "You raza are the same too. One of you turns up without those fucking markings on your face and acts like the world is ending." Zihr's ears stand straighter and seem to turn a darker color. You can see his hand twitch, whether to form a fist or to grab onto his blade; you're not sure which due to Checl interrupting them by continuing her latter thoughts. <<include "2.12">>
"I'm not sure what I want to do. I was always interested in being an artist, but I think I want to do something with clothing?" <<if not hasVisited("2.11LetHerSpeak")>>The others are stiff for only a moment longer before seeming to calm back down.<</if>> "A fashion designer?" Zihr inquires, and she nods slowly, absorbed in her own thoughts. "What about you," the terran guard questions their comrade, a raza who seems like they'd rather be left out of the conversation. They turn their glance to you and frown. "Why bug me when this one hasn't said a word about their purpose? I bet you have a wild story, like what those markings are all about." The sound of a roaring screech keeps you from answering, if you even had plans of doing so. The nightbeasts have arrived. You and $hound shift to get a better look and find them there. They prowl the edge of the camp, testing how close they can get before the smell of the burning plants wards them off. Their intelligence comes into question each time you hear them begin to snort and huff hysterically, signaling that they have once again found their limit. Regardless, they are a force to see. Seeming like a phantom that materializes only when they choose to creep into the light. A nightmare indeed. <a data-passage="2.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The sound of something being thrown in the fire causes you to glance back towards the others, and you find Prourc wiping his hands on his pants as he murmurs. "Darn beasts." "The root takes a while to burn up. You don't have to repeatedly throw more in," Zihr points out, but Prourc makes his point by adding another. "I'm increasing the perimeter." [[“No you're being wasteful.”|2.13Wasteful]] [[“That's not how it works.”|2.13NotHowThisWorks]] [[“Leave him be, Zihr.”|2.13LeaveHimBeZihr]] [[“Prourc, stop. Please.”|2.13StopProurc]] [[Stay silent.|2.13SS]]
"No, you're being wasteful," you choose to warn, "adding more doesn't increase the perimeter. You're just increasing the time." "That's the point, isn't it?" he questions, about to roll his eyes when you shake your head. "No. Adding more causes the fire to grow, burning the plants faster." "Well, if I stop and we all fall asleep, we'll die. Pick a feather." "That's why we don't all go to sleep," Zihr grumbles, "we take turns." Prourc fails to respond as he throws his hands up in surrender, leaving the plants on the ground as he rises and head to his wagon. <<include "2.14">>
"You should stop because that's not how the plants work," you inform Prourc. His silence tells you that he is genuinely confused and ignorant about why, so you continue on. "The more you add to the fire, the brighter the fire will grow, and the faster everything will burn. The smell will fade, and the nightbeasts will have nothing holding them back." "Oh," Prourc grumbles, "that makes sense." He places the plants back in the pouch and lies back to relax. With that put to an end, you turn your attention to the creatures who still stalk the outskirts of the camp. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "2.14">>
"Leave him be, Zihr," you warn the raza, who turns his sharp, exasperated gaze to you. "Are you telling me you're fine with this?" He sneers, "you probably don't know he's being wasteful either." Part of you almost wishes to say you had no idea. To say that you simply want him to shut up and are otherwise completely ignorant on the matter. You choose to remain silent, instead shifting your attention to the creatures who haven't gotten bored yet. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "2.14">>
Waving the excessive smoke away, you toss a pleading look toward Prourc, "can you stop, please? It's becoming much harder to breathe." "I try and save lives, and I'm ridiculed for it," he sighs but does as you ask. You almost tell him that he's doing no such thing, that adding more plants only causes the fire to burn quicker and, by extension, the smell to fade faster. But his ceasing removes the need to do so. With that put to an end, you turn your attention to the creatures who still prowl the outskirts of the camp. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "2.14">>
He isn't, you think to yourself, but remain silent on the matter, choosing to instead watch the stalking creatures who haven't gotten bored yet. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "2.14">>
You've only run into the beasts a total of two times. The first accidental as no one had warned you of what lurks in the shadows of the buildings of the Dreads. If it hadn't been for $hound, you doubt you would have gotten out of there with your life intact. The second had been purposeful and far more stressful. You dislike having something exist that wishes to feast upon you while you have little to no idea of its weaknesses and strengths. And so, you deliberately waited for night to fall and lured one of them near you. It was a nasty fight, mainly because one was joined by another and then another. But you were victorious. It taught you not only how to kill them but also to respect them. They weren't mindless killers though not as intelligent as the aiczeots. Such teaching seems to come back to you now as you watch them prowl the edges of the camp. Their large and bulky frames built not only with strength in mind but also speed. You've seen the four-legged beasts charge across long distances hoping to catch prey, and rarely do they fail. After that, your curiosity had been sated, and you no longer wished to find yourself crossing paths with one. Luckily, there hadn't been a third time. Yet. <a data-passage="2.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Comfortable?" you ask $hound, receiving nothing more than a snort from the beast as he rests his head on his front legs. It doesn't take long for the bright glow of his slits to abate, telling you that he has fallen asleep. You then rest your head on his rough, chitinous side, staring at an endless sky whose color reminds you of cool, sleek metal. At times, a meteor can be seen shooting across the sky. But otherwise, it remains quiet and uneventful. A thought you haven't had in a while comes back to you, one pertaining to the constellations that tell stories in the bottomless skies of Terra Genesis. You forget what the stars even look like back home, and something deep within says you probably will never see them again. There's no time for reminiscing or self-pity. In a day or so, you'll be at the gates of Taouron, and if all goes well, you'll be allowed in. And then, your vacation ends and the work begins. You're free to do as you wish for the first time since being taken from your home. No trarkran slavers smirking down upon you as they judge your price based on alien statistics. No Dinami breakers hovering over you, their faces splattered with your blood and ears filled with your screams. No one to report to. Only you. Checl had asked what each of you hoped to find once in Taouron. Nothing, if you were to be honest. Nothing you sought to right or reclaim can be found in the city or even on this planet. It all exists somewhere distant, where travel requires intellect cooperating with dark matter to fling you into hyperspace, allowing you to go from one galaxy to the next. The only things you will find here on Crion are the first steps and clues to achieving your broader goals. But now that you're sitting here, you wonder what's the most important thing to focus on. [[Revenge.|2.15Revenge][$heart +=3]] [[Answers. That’s all you care for.|2.15Answers][$mind +=3]] [[Clearing your name.|2.15ClearingYourName][$gut +=3]]
There are a few things on your list, but revenge is the most important. Tsering will feel every bit of pain you experienced when you landed on that desert floor, in addition to the abstractions one creates when one spends a year allowing their mind such freedoms. He is in for a rude awakening if he thinks time has dimmed your thirst or mitigated your animosity. One you hope to deliver personally. <<include "2.16">>
The Dinami, Tsering, all of that can wait. The most important thing to you is finding answers to your questions. You know who you are and even what, but the question of why, how, and to what extent has never been answered. You’ve stayed up many a night trying to piece the Baron’s actions into some kind of chronological and rational order. But either you are getting things wrong, or gaps are present. With your luck, it’s probably both. <<include "2.16">>
One may argue that while it may not help you remain free, it will at least help prolong your life. The last thing you want is to look over your shoulder every second to ensure an assassin or hitperson isn’t standing there. Tsering could have told them a long list of things, and with no one but his two accomplices as witnesses, you are sure they are prone to believe it. Of course, the Dinami will not act on his word alone. They will want to capture, interrogate, and torture you to every extreme. But you will be alive. Perhaps they will listen, perhaps not. Still, it will happen once they learn that you live, and no matter how careful you are, they will catch up to you. You just rather it be on your terms instead of theirs. <<include "2.16">>
You're eager to sleep, but one last thought keeps you from such a thing. Freedom. True freedom. Not this fallacy that you now find yourself in. The freedom that allows you to be free not only in mind but in body and purpose. A freedom that is only met when you're standing and there's nothing left to do. Part of you yearns to leave all of this behind. To go someplace where no one will think twice about your presence. A place where you can start over and try to live the rest of your life in some kind of amnesic state. You can adopt a new name, look, backstory ... a new identity altogether. When people ask you about who you once were, you will take on a ruminant look—like you've seen so many times in movies—and you will wave it off. Play it as if they had just said something funny and refuse to tell the story. Or you can even make up a fitting story, each person receiving a new one until everyone learns their question is lost on you. There is a world out there. A world no longer confined to a single country or continent, not even a planet or solar system. Hundreds of planets far away from all this that you may find yourself. [[And you yearn for it.|2.16YearnForIt][$view +=3]] [[Not yet. Not now.|2.16NotYet][$view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> The thought makes you want to throw your head back and laugh. To have such an enticing idea right before you, dangled only so far. Every time you reach towards it, it moves away as if suddenly shy. You can cross an entire planet and still find yourself no closer to grasping this life. Not until you have your answers. Until then, you will never be fast enough to catch what is within your grasp. <<include "2.17">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You swallow at the thought. For something so enticing to be dangled in front of you, and it is you who turns away. You're the one who withdraws their hand and goes down a route far less appealing. But you know deep inside that you must. You will never be content if you force yourself to catch it and move on. The questions will haunt your dreams and stalk you during your waking hours. You will never truly be free. <<include "2.17">>
Shaking the thought from your head, you get to your feet to further distance yourself from them. You head to the outskirts, close enough to the nightbeasts that they find themselves interested solely in your presence but still within the perimeter of the bonfire's strength. You take a seat and let out a deep exhale. Here, in the here and now, is where you are, and it's best to remember that. Dreaming of a future you may never get won't shield you from incoming bullets or make you impervious to lies and deceit. One would think such a lesson would be realized and accepted, but you're constantly discovering that half the things you //should've// learned are nothing more than large dashes waiting to be given a check. "Couldn't sleep either?" You turn to see … [[Checl.|2.17Checl]] [[Zihr.|2.17Zihr]]
"Me neither," she continues, giving you no time to answer and sitting beside you. "You should at least try." "I know … I know. But there's this mix of excitement and terror every time I try. My eyes are open, and I see civilization and storefronts and restaurants. Then when I close them …" She drifts off as she studies what lies beyond, the spires whose piked tips behave as if they are preparing to puncture the sky, and the nightbeasts who voice their frustration and hiss when that frustration shifts into anserine action. Other than that, there's not much to see. "Do you think it's still going on?" Checl questions, cocking her head to the side as she squints. You ready yourself to question her, but she resumes, almost as if she's just speaking to fill the silence. "The Outlands." She shakes her head and finally turns to look at you. "Do you still think they're fighting back in the Dreads?" "Probably. I see no reason why our absence would stop any of it." "I keep thinking about what I'm going to do in Taouron. What I can do. The list doesn't seem very long." [[“You're not giving yourself any credit.”|2.17GivingYourselfCredit][$checl +=3]] [[“I'm sure there's plenty of zeach-capable jobs.”|2.17ZeachCapableJobs][$checl -=5]] [[“A list is a list.”|2.17List]] <<if $flirt_checl>><<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You're way too amazing not to find something.”|2.17TooAmazing][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<<else>>[[“You're way too amazing not to find something.”|2.17TooAmazing][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<</if>><</if>>
"Sounds more like you're just not giving yourself the credit you deserve." "And what credit is that?" "Checl, you don't need someone to stroke your ego to know that you're good at a lot of things. You're smart, beautiful, sociable, and damn well capable." "Or is that only what you want to believe I am?" she questions, shaking her head as her feathers stiffen, "or maybe that's only by Dread standards. Places change you. I wanted out, but that doesn't mean the Outlands didn't change me and who I was before. I'm not that same person. I mean, I try to be, but I know I'm not." "Where is all this coming from? Just a while ago, you were ecstatic about all of this." <<include "2.17.1">>
"I'm more than sure that Taouron and the surrounding sectors are filled with zeach-capable jobs." She turns to you with a frown, "nice, $name. Very non-xenophobic there." "Are you about to go out and become law enforcement?" "I could!" "You're arguing just for the sake of it. We both know you don't know how to fire a gun. You screech when you hear loud noises. The only reason you're sitting here now is that I'm here, and you feel somewhat safe. Am I wrong?" She glares at you, "you don't have to be a //kmoichë// about it." You sigh, not caring to ask her what the word means, "where is all this coming from? Just a while ago, you were ecstatic about all of this." <<include "2.17.1">>
"A list is still a list no matter what's on it. That's better than what some people may have going in." "Comparing myself to others won't help me." "True," you agree with a light shrug, "but neither will complaining. If you don't like your options, make new ones for yourself. If you find that impossible, be okay with the list you're given. Where is all this even coming from? Just a while ago, you were ecstatic about all of this." <<include "2.17.1">>
You hum in thought. "You're way too amazing not to find something. You're worried now, but you'll find it to be so easy that you'll look back and think yourself silly." Her eyes are wide when you glance over at her. She looks at you as if there are a million things she wants to say, but her mouth refuses to say any of them. "Cat got your tongue?" you question, loving how Checl's wide eyes narrow, and she cocks her head to the side in confusion. You turn to face her. "Cat. Is that even a word that gets translated?" "No," she smiles, "it sounds incredibly odd every time you say it." "Good to know. But, going back to the previous topic. Why are you so worried about that, out of all things? Were you not ecstatic about all of this just a moment ago?" <<include "2.17.1">>
She shrugs gloomily. "Sometimes we want to see the sun and everything good and ignore how things can go wrong. Talking to you helps. You've always been really good at getting me to see the good and the bad." [[“Stick to the good.”|2.17CheclGood]] [[“The bad gets you prepared.”|2.17CheclBad]] [[“Both is good.”|2.17CheclBoth]]
"Stick to seeing the good," you advise her, "we have enough doom and gloom around for you not to add yourself to it." "Yea," she chuckles, "I'll save that for you. We'll be opposites." [[“I'm a positive person.”|2.17Opt]] [[“I'll take it.”|2.17Pess]] [[“Realistic is not pessimistic.”|2.17Real]]
"There's a lot of good that comes from seeing the bad," you chuckle, "you're less surprised afterward." "I was never really good at just looking at the negatives. Not like you." [[“I'm a positive person.”|2.17Opt]] [[“I'll take it.”|2.17Pess]] [[“Realistic is not pessimistic.”|2.17Real]]
"Seeing both is probably where you want to stay. Obviously for balance but for a decent piece of mind as well." "I'm surprised you think that when you're normally just looking at the bad." [[“I'm a positive person.”|2.17Opt]] [[“I'll take it.”|2.17Pess]] [[“Realistic is not pessimistic.”|2.17Real]]
"Whoa, I'm a very optimistic person." She playfully shrugs, her face contorting to resemble one of doubt, and you simply choose to chuckle. "I was as a kid anyway, and I sometimes try to stay that way. Sometimes it just doesn't work. It's hard to always be positive when you've seen what I've seen and done what I've done." "It's the attempt that matters, right?" You nod but do so to merely end the conversation. It's not the attempt or the thought. It's the action. Simply wishing and wanting something to be won't make it happen, and it's undoubtedly the lazy way out. If you want something, you have to go and get it. If you want to be positive, you have to put it into action instead of letting excuses keep you from it, no matter how good they are. Yet another lesson you doubt you've fully learned. You swallow and get to your feet, nodding back to the camp, "you should try and get some sleep. Before we have to move out." She nods, and the two of you head back. You take up your original spot near $hound, who is now awake, and simply gaze at the stars, the conversation repeating in your head. <a data-passage="2.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Pessimism sees that you're always prepared for the worse. Can't be shocked or tricked or -" You frown at the next word in the line-up. "The point is, you can't be caught off guard if the worst-case scenario is already the one you're looking forward to." "But that can't be healthy. Always expecting the worse?" "I see it being no different than always expecting the best. Give people as little room to hurt or disappoint you, and you'll never be disappointed. You're prepared when they eventually fuck you over, and everything goes to shit." She's silent for a minute longer than you would like, and when you gaze at her, she seems deep in thought. "Do you look at me like that too?" A question you should have been prepared for if you're honest with yourself. It is also one that you have no intention of lying about. Even if you did, Checl would know how you really feel. So you stand, making it clear that the conversation has reached its end. "No exceptions, Checl. I said everyone, and I meant it." You head back to $hound to spend the remainder of your night by his side, the conversation repeating in your head. <a data-passage="2.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Being realistic about situations is not being pessimistic or optimistic. It's just being … well, realistic. If your situation seems bleak, then thinking about a bleak outcome isn't unheard of. The same goes for if the situation is bound to go well. You make do with what you're given. Have your backup plans and doubts, but there's nothing wrong with having faith in someone, either." "I feel like your faith is different than mine." You take the bait; part of you is too curious to learn more of what she may mean, "explain." "Well, when I put my faith into people, I trust them." And there goes that word. Looking back, you should've imagined that word popping up. Checl continues to speak, but your mind has chosen to wander elsewhere. Flashes of all those you did indeed put your faith in appear before you, and how they each showed you the different reasons why you no longer granted that word to most. "Yes," you state, not knowing if you cut her off, "you're right. We have two different thoughts on what 'putting your faith in someone' means." "What does it mean to you?" You're tired and show as much as you get to your feet. "It means I'm tired and that this conversation has ended. Be careful on the outskirts like this." With that, you leave her and head back to $hound, the conversation repeating in your head. <a data-passage="2.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Don't really see it as being a smart move when the fire could go out." "You say that but the guards wasted no time." You glance back at them but say nothing more, their choices are not yours. "I'm not surprised that you're up either." He takes a seat beside you, "hard to do when you're hearing nightbeast grunts every two seconds. Have you ever fought one?" "The first time wasn't on purpose." He let's out a faint snort, "which implies that the second time was." He shakes his head and you notice his ear twitch and a look of annoyance passes on his face. "Of course you would seek a fight with one." You open your mouth to argue but you most surely did seek the second fight. Your reasoning is logical to you. Unlike some, you're prepared for what may happen here if the creatures ever have a chance to attack. [[“Do you know how to kill one?”|2.17KillOne][$zihr +=5]] [[“Your problem with me is getting old.”|2.17Problem]] [[“I don't go looking for fights.”|2.17NoFindFights][$zihr -=5]] <<if $flirt_zihr>><<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Most folks would just fuck.”|2.17JustFuck][$zihrRo -=10; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“Most folks would just fuck.”|2.17JustFuck][$zihrRo -=10; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<</if>><</if>>
"Tell me, Zihr. Do you know how to kill a nightbeast?" "Shoot it just like any other creature." "If you had done the same as I, you would know blindly shooting is a waste of time. By the time you finally hit any exposed skin, they'll either be on you or another would have joined. You get one shot, maybe two depending on how far away it is before it'll charge. If it misses you in the charge and you're not far enough back, it'll immediately try and knock you off balance. You survive all of that and now you're too close to get a smart shot off and without high-grade acid or plasma rounds, you won't do much damage even if you do land your mark. The beast then tries to grab or pummel you into the ground. It knows how to dodge and when to stay away from you and bide its time. Did you know any of that?" He chuckles uninterestedly, shaking his head as he gazes into the distance. "You made your point already." <<include "2.17.2">>
"This problem that you have with me is starting to get dull. Either add something interesting or please, oh so kindly, fuck off. If you hate me so much why did you come over here?" He has the gall to throw a confused look your way. "Hate? I don't hate you." "Whatever you call it, I don't care. Why did you come over here if you just wanted to pick a fight." "You think I knew what you were going to say when I asked if you had ever fought one? Sounds like you're upset at your own predictability." "Do not talk about predictability," you growl, "every conversation with you is predictable. It's this." You end it there, still highly confused about why he remains. Knowing Zihr, it's too prove a point. To make it seem as if he's the bigger person in the situation and that he didn't stomp off after his conniption fit. <<include "2.17.2">>
"No matter what you think, I don't go out purposely looking for fights." "You just said -" "I'm not talking about that," you interrupt, "that time, yes. And there was a reason for it. But you seem to think that I wake up itching for a fight and I'm not satisfied until I find it." "Curious then how they always find you." "We lived in the Dreads," you exclaim, "everyone is looking to try and one up someone else. How is it my fault when people start fights with me?" "It sounds more like an excuse." "I could say exactly what you want me to say and that wouldn't matter. You'll still find something to harp on about." You shake your head in vexation. "But I'm the one who goes looking for fights." <<include "2.17.2">>
You chuckle softly as you shake your head. "You know Zihr. Most folks would just fuck. They wouldn't continue this back-and-forth game of irritating one another." "Then I should be relieved that neither of us are like 'most folks.'" "How long are you planning to go round and round? This game is going to get old, and not even your masochistic behavior will make it interesting." He scowls, "I don't know what that word is, but since you said it now, of all times, I can presume it's nothing good." The way he ignores everything else you said keeps the smirk that has occupied your face from moving. <<include "2.17.2">>
Both of you are silent for a while and you wish he would simply head back to the fire as there is no other reason for him to provide companionship. Thankfully, the silence also causes you to calm down and you try and spot the direction of the Outlands. You know you'll never see it, far too distant now, but you make the attempt anyway. A part of you wishes you could, to see what the large outpost looks like to those approaching. Was it a welcoming beacon up against the dappled night sky or just another antagonist for those escaping those breathing down their backs? It was neither for you when you first arrived but you can hardly recall what you had been thinking. Suddenly, Zihr voices, "you never answered Checl when she asked about what you're going to do in Taouron." "And?" "Why?" [[“It's my business.”|2.17MyBusiness][$open -=5]] [[“Why do you care?”|2.17WhyCare][$open -=3]] [[“She wouldn't understand.”|2.17WouldntUnderstand][$open +=5]]
"It's my business. If the rest of you want to share what you're doing then do so. But don't expect me to join in on your campfire stories." "Getting defensive over it?" He nods and you find that you have had enough. "These conversations have been enlightening Zihr but I think I'd rather go to sleep than have a third." Luckily, he remains quiet and you leave his side, replacing him with $hound. At least the latter is much quieter. <a data-passage="2.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Why do you care?" "Curiosity." "Oh is that all." "So if I hadn't said anything, you wouldn't be curious?" "No. I know how to keep my nose out of other people's business. Whatever you do in Taouron has nothing to do with me." He frowns for a time before saying, "just because you are that way doesn't mean others are." "True," you state, getting to your feet and stretching, "and I'm not expecting for others to be the same. But I am expecting them to show the same respect and distance." With that, you leave his side, replacing him with $hound. At least the latter is much quieter. <a data-passage="2.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Because she wouldn't understand." "And me?" You study him for a minute. Perhaps. Knowing Zihr, especially in regards to the conversation that took place a few minutes prior, he'll believe you to be foolish and heading into danger for no reason. Though he may understand the want for answers, the rest he would shake his head at. You don't care, but why summon an unwelcomed reaction when you can receive nothing instead. "You too." If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it, but the expression doesn't quite say nonplussed either. Trying to work out what he is has the capacity to take a lifetime, and you're not even willing to give it a night. So, you rise, bidding him goodnight before walking to $hound's side. At least the latter is much quieter. <a data-passage="2.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You watch the fire for a while, feeling your eyes slowly close. You remind yourself of the need to stay awake and readjust, shaking your head violently to stave off the lingering stupor. A blink, all you do is blink, but the next time your eyes open is due to $hound stirring beside you. He licks the ground and you narrow your eyes when you notice that the nightbeasts are absent. It's still night. The sky has just barely begun to change shades and for such a presentable meal, the nightbeasts would still linger. You notice movement to the side and turn to see Zihr approaching and then kneeling beside you as he continues to stare off into the distance, his attention wholly on whatever has gained his attention. "What is it?" "Not sure yet. What would be out this late?" "Early," you correct, shrugging your shoulders and then nodding to the sky when he throws a gaze your way. The dull gray has only slightly lightened but there's a clear streak of white that causes the sky to resemble that of metal. "Whatever it is ran the nightbeasts off," you state, going through a list of other creatures. "It could be raiders?" "No. They would be louder." <<if $humor >=50>>\ "My apologies," you say with a roll of your eyes, "it could be //stealthy// raiders." "Louder as in clearer," he growls. "Then next time just say clearer." The two of you are silent, as if the small exchange warrants a break. Knowing how Zihr feels about you, it probably does. <<else>>\ "How are you so sure?" "Whatever I'm hearing sounds muffled. It's hard to explain since I've never experienced something like this before." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
His words cause something in your brain to click, and you curse as you scramble to your feet. "Move, now!" you shout to him. "You know what it is?" "Nemaworms," you answer, moving to wake Prourc. Zihr wastes no time either, heading towards Checl and the two guards. "Wha?" Prourc asks, delusional, almost looking prepared to hit you. In the few seconds it takes for him to realize it's you, you have pulled him to his feet and are now pushing him toward the wagon. "Time to go. Nemaworms." That seems enough to wake him, and he no longer needs your incessant shoving to finally walk on his own. The Dread Outlands, thankfully, didn't see many nemaworms. The crystals they feed off are farther out, and they possess little will to crawl to the outpost where their senses would be bombarded by all the commotion. But two or three months after you had arrived, a sun drought passed over the land. No sun for two weeks. Some celebrated, and others prayed to a deity they had long since turned their backs to. But none had been prepared for the nemaworm invasion. With no sun, the crystals stopped providing the minerals the nemaworms survived off of, turning them to seek out different prey. The enlarged worm rarely ate, but it's ravenous and paramount when they become hungry. You believe they would willingly crawl into a vat of lava if they detected food resting inside. It was a deadly two weeks with nemaworms and nightbeasts stalking more of the streets. "//Hovni//," Prourc growls, his shaking talons making it impossible to properly grip the wagon's rope. You aid him in hitching the dhole back up, and he nods in thanks. "The plants? Do they not work on them?" You snort, "nothing works on a nemaworm." An unfortunate truth, as even a full round of varying ammo types will only anger the beasts. Their chitinous hides make for impressive armor, and a persistent hunger gives them a one-track mind even when injured. <a data-passage="2.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Heading to the back of the wagon, you find Zihr already there with the two guards. They shift things to the side to provide more room for you, or at least Zihr does. The two guards seem more caught up in their own panicking. The ground rumbles as if possessing a belly of its own, and something roars as it breaches the top of the dense sand, two more echoing the action. "$hound, in. Now." He jumps up on the wagon, and though it seems to suffer from the newly acquired weight, it doesn't fail. "Why are we even running from these things?" the terran guard questions, aiming the muzzle at one of the creatures. Neither you nor Zihr can stop them in time as they take a shot. Whether the bullet burrows or bounces off the nemaworm's tough hide, you don't know; it's not close enough to make out what injury it inquires, if any. Instead, you watch as the worm looks like it grows in size as it opens its maw wide, rising before crashing to the ground and burrowing underneath. Visually, you see the two others have remained above ground, but the way the sand shifts, you know there's more than just one underneath. "Shit!' Zihr shouts, "go, Prourc, go." "What? What was that?" he questions from the front. "Go!" you all shout, and he does as you scream. You watch as the incoming nemaworms charge toward you, colliding with each other in their hurry to be the first. "How do we get rid of these things?" the raza guard inquires. "Basically, what your friend over there already started," you inform, "either kill them or wait until they give up." "And which is easier?" "The former," Zihr grumbles, seeming to be as upset as you. He looks from the worms to you. "We can outrun them, right?" <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ [[“Doubt it.”|2.20DoubtIt]] [[“Dhole's are fast.”|2.20DholeFast]] [[Don't answer.|2.20DontAnswer]] <<else>>\ [[Help with trying to kill them.|2.20HelpKilling]] [[Hope this dhole is faster than the worms.|2.20HopeInDhole]] <</if>>\
"It's a dhole," you remind him, and he shrugs as he almost trips over a box. "They're fast." "In relation to a nemaworm?" "Then what? We pray?" "If you're into that, I'm sure it won't hurt." <<if $humor >=50>>\ "This whole no weapons thing is really starting to piss me off," Zihr informs you. "Try throwing your blade at it," you recommend, getting nothing but a glare that lasts a second as Zihr once again finds it difficult to keep himself upright. <<else>>\ "This whole no weapons thing is really starting to piss me off," Zihr informs you. You have no proper reply, seeing that the absence of a gun at your side is starting to weigh on you as well. <</if>>\ <<include "2.21">>
"Dhole's are pretty fast when it comes to flat ground." "So we can?" You tilt your head from one side to the other, "maybe. Dhole's are faster than a lot of creatures, but these nemaworms aren't just chasing us above ground but under as well." "I can't tell if you think we're in the clear or not." "Because I can't say." <<include "2.21">>
You hear Zihr but don't answer him. What's the point? You're not sure if you'll get out of this, and no amount of reassurance will change the outcome. Wait and see. That's all any of you can do. <<include "2.21">>
The guard has already started it, so you might as well join in, hoping to either dissuade the worms or injure the two above land. You check your gun and then fire off a few shots, aiming for the eyes as best you can, but with how bumpy this ride has been, most of your shots end up piercing the sand or the upper part of the beasts. "Save your charges," Zihr warns, and though you don't plan on making a habit of it, you listen. <<include "2.21">>
"I'm really hoping this dhole of yours proves to be a smart investment," you yell to Prourc, doubting he hears you. "They're fast, right?" the raza guard questions, biting down on their lower lip as they fix their grip on a dangling rope. "Yea, but that's not the question here," you remind, "the question is if they're faster than nemaworms." "They fucking better be," the terran guard exclaims. "You," Zihr growls, "shut up. We'd be in a much better position if you hadn't been a mup-head and shot at it." You raise a brow, glancing at the guard to see if they will utter a retort, but they have placed their attention back on the nemaworms, grumbling under their breath. <<include "2.21">>
Abruptly, the back tire of the wagon shoots upwards, causing all of you to fall to the side. The terran guard collides with you, and though your grip allows you to stay upright, it sends your bottom half flying out of the wagon. You shout, tightening your grip and struggling to angle yourself back into the cart. A nemaworm breaches the sand, maw wide and ready to consume you. Before it nears your foot, you hear Zihr shout, and a low roar is heard as the nemaworm backs down. An arm encircles your body, yanking you into the wagon. The landing is less than gentle as you find yourself on top of a wide-eyed, heavily breathing Zihr. [[“Death wish much?”|2.21DeathWish][$zihr -=5]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Fight the blush. Fight the blush.|2.21CheeksDontFailMeNow][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=3]]<<else>>[[Fight the blush. Fight the blush.|2.21CheeksDontFailMeNow][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=3]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You could've just asked.”|2.21JustAsked][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=3]]<<else>>[[“You could've just asked.”|2.21JustAsked][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=3]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $flirt_zihr and hasVisited("2.17JustFuck")>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Taking my advice now?”|2.21AdviceTaken][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=2]]<<else>>[[“Taking my advice now?”|2.21AdviceTaken][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=2]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Thanks.”|2.21Thanks][$zihr +=5]] [[Get off of him.|2.21GetOff][$zihr +=3]]
With a snarl, you place your hand on his chest, using him to get to your feet. "Do you have a death wish?" "I've never heard a more grateful thank you." "Didn't ask for your help, and I don't need it." He rises, pausing only a minute to ensure he can stand before throwing a heated glare at you. "You are the most -" The wagon once again rocks viciously, smashing whatever else he planned to say against its sides. <<include "2.22">>
No matter how many times you think the words, your cheeks ultimately betray you and you can feel the warmth spreading throughout them. "What's wrong with your face?" Zihr asks, a hint of disgust in his words, "why are you looking like that?" //Moment gone//, you think to yourself as the paltry pain vanishes and you begin to push yourself off of Zihr. "Shut up," you grumble. <<include "2.22">>
"If you wanted some one on one time with me, Zihr," you chuckle, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger, "all you had to do was ask." "Get off me," he shouts, the tips of his ears burning, and with a chuckle, you do as he orders. <<include "2.22">>
"Oh, are you choosing to take my advice from last night now?" You push yourself up a bit as you look down at him. "Horrible timing. But I'm down for the new experience." "You ... Just ... For fucks sake." With the last statement, he roughly moves you off of him, turning his back to you as you chuckle. For a split-second, you find yourself forgetting about the danger, focused on nothing but Zihr's embarassment. And then you remember where you are. <<include "2.22">>
"Thanks," you say breathlessly, realizing that your life was almost ended by a nemaworm again. When you first found yourself in the Outlands, they had attacked your weakened form, surviving thanks to $hound. It seems that constantly needing to be protected from these beasts is becoming habitual. "You can thank me by getting off," he gasps, and you do just that. <<include "2.22">>
As soon as it's plausible, you move off of him. A simple nod will suffice as thanks. Otherwise, he'll be even more insufferable. <<include "2.22">>
You have barely gotten your feet underneath you when Prourc screams, "hang on, we're approaching some rocky area!" <<if $humor >=50>>"Oh, we're only //now// approaching that?"<<else>>You don't need to be told twice. Your grip on the rope tightens, and you search for anything else that may aid you.<</if>> "Avoid it," Zihr shouts as the wagon jumps. He falls onto you, causing you to bump into the terran guard who barely manages to stay on their feet and, therefore, on the wagon. <<if hasVisited("2.21JustAsked")>>"Not a word," Zihr voices before you can, though you wouldn't have, seeing that your focus is on something else entirely.<<else>>Your eyes narrow.<</if>> A rocky area will make for a bumpy ride, and no one will be the wiser of your involvement if someone was to lamentably fall, not even they. Not to mention that if something such as that was to happen then it would distract the nemaworms long enough for you all to escape. [[Push them.|2.22PushThem][$guards_dead to true; $attitude -=5]] [[See what happens.|2.22SeeWhatHappens]] [[Leave them be.|2.22LeaveBe][$attitude +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You bid your time, waiting for the area that Prourc forewarned you about, and rocky it is. You almost doubt you can pull this off due to how much focus you have to place on keeping yourself upright. Zihr is further back in the wagon with $hound, grabbing onto things in an attempt to save Prourc's inventory and hold onto something that will prove to be more stable. The other guard seems to have figured out a trick to shoot, stay upright, and reduce jostling. The best time to strike is now. You wait for another jarring period, and when it comes, you bump into the terran and deftly tangle your foot under theirs. And just like that, they're falling off the edge. "Hey!" the other guard shouts but is unwilling to give up whatever trick they learned to save their partner. So, the guard joins the nemaworms, who seem more than pleased to give up the chase to enjoy their gifted meal. No one says anything as you watch the scene. The worms swarm the body until all you see is a mass of squirming and raging worms. From all the noise the wagon is making, combined with that of the nemaworms, you didn't even hear the guard screaming. Soon, it all becomes just a figure in the distance. <a data-passage="2.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You hold off, watching keenly to see if they would fall from their own nescience. At first, you believe luck is on their side until they try to lean forward just enough to get a better shot just as the wagon's side shoots upwards. They stumble forward, limbs flailing to grab anything they can. Zihr shouts as he leans past you to grab the guard's cloak to safely pull them back. You shift your attention from the two, a frown on your face, but you lack disappointment. You had been curious to see what would happen, and you saw. They should be thankful someone like Zihr is around; otherwise, they would probably be nemaworm chow. The wagon continues on, but you notice the nemaworms slowing until they stop chasing after you altogether. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that you look closely, you can see a few crystals scattered amongst the rocks. They are no longer interested in you because another food source has presented itself. You let out a low snort. The one area that seemed to want to kill you has turned into your salvation. <a data-passage="2.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> The thought surfaces and then dissolves. If something happens, it will be because of their own negligence and because you were not there to lend a hand. You refuse to be the reason for a senseless death, especially when it is unnecessary, and you have other ways to reach your goal. As if testing your thoughts, the guard leans too far forward to get a better shot, just as the wagon's side shoots upwards. You waste no time, lunging forward to grab onto their cloak and bring them back into the cart's safety before they can even realize what may have happened. "Oh fuck," they gasp, nodding to you, "thanks for that." "You're welcome." The wagon continues on, but you notice the nemaworms slowing until they stop chasing after you altogether. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that you look closely, you can see a few crystals scattered amongst the rocks. They are no longer interested in you because another food source has presented itself. You let out a low snort. The one area that seemed to want to kill you has turned into your salvation. <a data-passage="2.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't hear them anymore," Prourc shouts from up front, "are we free?" "Yea," you yell back in response, "pull over somewhere. We're safe." The ride is no less bumpy, only gradually becoming tolerable until you come to a stop. "Is everyone alright? Are you guys okay back there?" Prourc questions as you jump from the back of the wagon, overjoyed to be on solid ground even though it brings about a minor headache. "We're fine," Zihr answers as he rights himself, clutching onto his head. $hound is the last out and he immediately starts to taste the air and ground, learning all that he can about this new area. <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Well, most of us anyway," the remaining guard adds, tsking as they gaze toward the now feasting nemaworms. "Poor foolish //relsim//." "You don't really seem bothered by the death of your friend," you mention. They shrug. "Wasn't my friend. We just ended up on the same detail together. And thanks to us both being guards, I gravitated to em'. But," a broad and avaricious grin appears, "now that they're dead, that's more money in my pocket and a guaranteed entry into Taouron." "Or," Zihr voices, "that money could be used to ensure one of us gets in." "Ha," the guard shouts, "fuck that." They leave with their thoughts on the matter spoken, and though you glance over at Zihr, you say and give none of your thoughts away. <</if>>\ "Zihr? $name? Are you both alright?" Checl questions as she rushes up to <<if $checl_touch>>you and cradles the side of your face, looking you over.<<else>>Zihr and cradles his face, looking him over before glancing towards you.<</if>> [[“Fine.”|2.23Fine]] [[“Yes, thank you.”|2.23YesThanks]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Squeeze her hand.|2.23SqueezeHand][$checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Squeeze her hand.|2.23SqueezeHand][$checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $guards_dead>>\ [[“Better than the other guy.”|2.23BetterThanOtherGuy]] <</if>>\ [[Let Zihr answer.|2.23ZihrAnswer]]
"We're fine." It's a curt and straightforward answer that causes an exuberant Checl to calm down, a frown surfacing. <<include "2.24">>
"Yes, thanks, Checl." She exhales heavily and nods, turning from you to Zihr, who nods in agreement with you. <<include "2.24">>
You fight the growing need to just relax in her grip. Instead, you move back as you grab her hand, squeezing it to reassure you that you're not only okay but also grateful for her worry. Her eyes are focused solely on you before she slightly nods and turns her attention to Zihr. As she fusses over him, you leave and head toward a waiting Prourc. <<include "2.24">>
"Well, we're much better off than that other guy." "What happened?" she inquires, looking behind you at the lone guard who speaks to Prourc. "They fell off the wagon," Zihr sighs, "you'd think they'd be more careful." "Cockiness typically gives way to mistakes," you shrug, leaving their side to head over to a waiting Prourc. <<include "2.24">>
"We're fine, Checl," Zihr reassures her, patting her shoulder before pushing her a few steps back. "We talked about personal space before." "Can I get a pass? I thought one of you died." "I have no intention of dying out here," he shakes his head as he moves towards a waiting Prourc, "not after all this time." <<include "2.24">>
"How far are we from the wall now?" you ask him, and he retrieves the map, flattening it out on the wagon floor so that you can all see. "We're here now, I believe. Or at least in this area." His finger encircles an area partially above the middle. "If we can get out of this area relatively quickly, then we'll have a day, maybe even half a day, left to our journey." "Why say it like that?" Zihr questions. "Because this," you tell him, moving your finger to show them the area, "is nightbeast and pirate territory. A fire attracts pirates, and no fire attracts the beasts." "We have guns," the guard reminds, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>> sparing you and Zihr a look, "or at least <<if $guards_dead>>I<<else>>we<</if>>do."<<else>>shaking theirs in the air as if to give you a visual reminder as well. "We'll be fine."<</if>> "Nightbeasts don't care, and pirates have guns too," you snort, "and they have more. So let's hope we can avoid them." <a data-passage="2.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"So, do we go without a fire?" Zihr questions. Prourc looks at you, and you shake your head. "We keep it low at best. Enough to burn the plants and see but also be harder to spot by whoever may be roaming around. Hopefully, they get the nightbeasts attention, and we're left alone." There is little more you can do than that, and <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>seeing that only <<if $guards_dead>>one in your party has<<else>>the two guards in your party have<</if>> any kind of ranged weapon, you'll have to rely on them until circumstances change. Thankfully, there's also $hound. The <<if $guards_dead>>guard sits<<else>>guards sit<</if>> up front with Prourc while the three of you take up the rear. <<else>>seeing that <<if $guards_dead>>at least three<<else>> all<</if>> of you have weapons, you won't be caught unaware. Plus, there's $hound. You and Zihr take the front while the <<if $guards_dead>>lone guard takes up the rear<<else>>two guards take up the rear<</if>>.<</if>> <a data-passage="2.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You journey through the rest of the dawn, taking a break near a small watering hole before moving back out. Any conversation that arises swiftly dies minutes later as exhaustion affects all of you. The previous day's excitement has long since vanished, and impatience has taken its place. There is also a feeling of unease plaguing your group. You surmise that once the adrenaline had fled, everyone truly realized what <<if $guards_dead>>had happened to the guard eaten by nemaworms and what could happen to any of you. Perhaps you're calm simply due to the knowledge you possess concerning the guard's death, or maybe you have greater faith in yourself.<<else>>could have happened with those nemaworms. That if one thing had gone wrong, you could all be dead.<</if>> So far, the only beings that seem hell-bent and capable of killing you are nemaworms and a certain vetix. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you let that thought flee your mind. There is a thin line separating confidence from cockiness, and you sometimes feel like you walk said line with a lack of canniness. Only at times like this do you remind yourself to rein yourself in. A stray bullet can kill the most experienced fighter because they believe they control the battlefield at every point. It is far wiser to be cautious and remember that fear still has a place in your heart. <a data-passage="2.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As the sun sets, you stop to pitch camp for the second time. The action is slow, and once the campfire is erected it's kept low as you suggested. Everyone takes up positions similar to last time, but unlike last time, no one says a word, not even Checl. You spend the time cleaning $hound's scales and detoxifying his spit. The process, though not long, requires a specific kind of focus that you mostly fail to have. Not every scale needs excessive scrubbing, but those that do typically are resilient and sometimes may mean something other than just dirt. In the wild, his diet and certain symbiotic parasites would take care of this. The spit is even worse, but at least it's quick. By the time you're done, $hound seems ready to fall asleep, and you can't argue. But you choose to stay up; maintaining the fire is even more important than last time, and raiders aren't like nightbeasts. They'll choose to hide their presence. You yawn and choose to readjust your position in hopes that it will aid you in staying awake. Staring at the fire, you blink. And the next time you open your eyes, the fire has almost died and $hound is pacing back and forth, keeping the nightbeasts that have arrived, back. "Shit," you grumble, trying to figure out where the time has gone. You remember telling yourself that you were only blinking. How did it lead to this kind of negligence? <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>The ebbing fire causes moderate eyes to diminish in strength, and you must squint to tell how many nightbeasts will need to be dealt with.<<else>>Despite the ebbing fire, your eyesight remains sharp as you stare at the nightbeasts.<</if>> Two have decided to linger, hoping their patience will be rewarded. The eye-less creatures' heads bob from side to side, chittering to one another as they inch closer. You don't know how much time you have until that happens. <a data-passage="2.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your first and main concern is waking Prourc so that you have some kind of way to get out of here. Zihr rises before you get to Prourc, already alert, as he glances toward the noise. He deduces what happened and immediately goes into action<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>, though without guns you don't know what for.<<else>>.<</if>> Once at Prourc's side, you touch his shoulder, attempting to remain calm. "Nightbeasts, get up." He starts to shoot up, but you slow his ascension. "Slowly. It's cliché, but they're drawn to fear." "It's what?" You're about to repeat the word when you realize there's probably no translation for it in his language, and you don't have time for a language lesson. You move away, and he shifts to wake Checl, repeating what you told him as they quickly head toward the wagon. It all feels too similar to your previous night. <<if $guards_dead>>You at least have another figure to willingly give them. The thought drags your eye to the guard who is still rising, highly confused as they slowly come to the realization of what is happening.<<else>>The slowest to rise are the guards, appearing highly confused before finally coming to the realization of what is happening.<</if>> "I can't see shit," the raza guard yells, scrambling for their weapon as Zihr comes to your side. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "Can you?" he asks. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>"I can't. And your<<else>>"I can. Your<</if>> eyesight in the dark -" You don't finish the sentence, giving him a chance to do so. "Is shit, and the fact that we don't have weapons makes me feel useless." "You still have that pretty blade of yours. Don't tell me you don't know how to use it." "Whether I did or not, it doesn't seem like I have much choice." That much is correct. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>But you're unsure how you'll get out of this one with no casualties. None of you can see, leaving $hound the only true fighter. If the <<if $guards_dead>>guard decides<<else>>two guards decide<</if>> to be idiotic and fire blindly, who knows what or who they'll hit. No, this won't end well.<<else>>Out of all the fighters, you're the only one who can see. You want to let out the longest curse in the world. <<if $guards_dead>>One person with a gun who won't be able to use it<<else>>Two people with guns that won't be able to use them<</if>> because they'll barely be able to see once the fire is completely out. Attempting to light it will not only be foolish but a waste.<</if>> <<else>>\ "Can you?" he asks, readying his gun. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>"I can't. And your<<else>>"I can. Your<</if>> eyesight in the dark -" You don't finish the sentence, giving him a chance to do so. "Is shit." You want to let out the longest curse in the world. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>But you're unsure how you'll get out of this one with no casualties. None of you can see, leaving $hound the only true fighter. If the <<if $guards_dead>>guard decides<<else>>two guards decide<</if>> to be idiotic and fire blindly, who knows what or who they'll hit. No, this won't end well.<<else>><<if $guards_dead>>Two<<else>>Three<</if>> people with guns that won't be useful because they'll barely be able to see once the fire eventually dies. Attempting to light it will not only be foolish but a waste.<</if>> <</if>>\ The nightbeasts attack. <a data-passage="2.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>$hound attacks the one closest to him while the second charges towards you. The <<if $guards_dead>>last remaining guard takes a shot, the first missing and the second hits, but does nothing more than piss the creature off.<<else>> guards each take two shots, but if they even hit, they don't do much to sway the beast off its course.<</if>>You have nothing more than a blade, not entirely useless but wholly dangerous up against a nightbeast. The truth is simple, an irrefutable fact. You can't win this, and the only way to make it out of here with your life is to flee. That is, if you can escape the raging creature right in front of you.<<else>>$hound goes after one while you grab your gun and open fire on the second, shooting two shots, both landing on highly armored hide. The creature tears towards you, and Zihr takes a chance at landing his own shots, but it continues on its path. You attempt to dodge, avoiding the nightbeast, and barely miss being kicked by its back legs. Your ability to evade its attacks seems to anger it further. It rips around, rearing up, but before it can pound the ground, Zihr fires. You surmise that he hit a sensitive spot as its attention is redirected. After another set of rounds, the beast continues, caring little for the bombardment as it sets itself upon Zihr. It screeches just as it hits him, sending his body soaring to the side.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ [[Attack.|2.29Attack][$injury_leg to true]] [[Dodge.|2.29Dodge]] <<else>>\ "Fuck this thing!" the raza guard howls, taking shot after shot. Thankfully the shots aren't for nothing. The nightbeast roars and turns to charge toward them, allowing you to go after Zihr. Once there, you help him to his feet, glancing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> "This is pointless," you growl, "we need to get you out of here." "I'm okay," he grumbles, but you ignore him. <<if $zihrRoPo >=1>>\ "You know how I know that's a lie? Because you're letting me help you." <<if $zihrRo >=50>>\ "Maybe I just wanted you -" he starts to say in an out of character voice, but then his words trail off as if realizing just what he was about to say regardless of it being mocking. You can't help but laugh, even with remembering the precarious situation that you're all in. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you." "Shut up," he growls just as you get him to the wagon before gazing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> <<else>>\ "You haven't said anything outrageous either," he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to hear. "And you're helping me." There is a slight pause to your step, one that isn't obvious but there nonetheless. You aren't exactly sure what you expected Zihr to say, if anything at all. Thankfully, you're not allowed to think about it as you finally get him over to the wagon before gazing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ At last, you make it to the awaiting wagon, helping him onto it before gazing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.29.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You have only a moment to decide what to do, and you choose to attack. Waiting until the last minute, you dive out of the way, avoiding its flailing limbs. Your grip tightens on the weapon, and you plunge it into the ankle of the creature. It comes down, but not before pounding you with its two mid-section legs. You grit your teeth as the pain shoots through your leg. In moments like this, you wish your body’s numbing abilities acted quicker. <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Hey, I'm here," Zihr tells you, and you have to force yourself to blink a few times to figure out where he had come from. The nightbeast is no longer concerned with you; the guard seemed to have landed a lucky shot to the side of its face. "I'll get you to the wagon and then go back," Zihr tells you, but you shake your head, grabbing his arm tightly. "No. We're leaving." "The guard -" he starts, but you cut him off. "Is bait. We're leaving." <<if $zihr >=50>>\ He looks from you to the guard, who is still so caught up in fighting that they don't realize what's about to happen. "This isn't right," he mumbles but continues to move forward, helping you into the wagon. "We just condemned them to death." "If you think you can save everyone, then you're wrong. Sometimes, a sacrifice here and there is required to win in the end." "Then what's the point of it all?" he asks. You shrug, "the path paved to victory is splattered in blood or some shit like that." You perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he's fighting to catch up with you. <<else>>\ He shakes his head, "this isn't right." "We can talk about moral conundrums later. If we stay, then we're all dead." You remove yourself from his grip and limp towards the wagon, wanting to sigh when you don't feel his presence behind you. "Do you want to find out about your family and past?" You knew using that to get what you want would piss him off, but it would also bring things back into perspective for him. And though he gives you a dirty look, he moves forward. Once at the wagon, you perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he's fighting to catch up with you. <</if>>\ "Wait!" the guard barks, shooting a few more shots, "wait for me." "Prourc," you shout to the zeach, "go." He wastes no time, and the wagon lurches forward, both nightbeasts surrounding the screaming guard left for dead. Zihr may not like it, but you got what you want. You're guaranteed a spot into Taouron now. <<else>>\ "Hey, I'm here," Zihr tells you, and you have to force yourself to blink a few times to figure out where he had come from. The nightbeast is no longer concerned with you, but one of the guards seems to have landed a smart shot to the side of its face. "I'll get you to the wagon and then go back," Zihr tells you, helping you to the wagon's edge. As soon as he leaves your side, you check out your leg. It could've been worse. It would've broken bones if the creature had used its two forelegs. "Are you alright?" Checl questions, parting the curtains to look at you. "Fine. Just be ready to leave when you hear me whistle." She nods and turns back around. The three of them attacking the beast together actually manage to get it down, and $hound has already wounded the prey he was after. Both are injured, making it nigh impossible for them to chase you. "Hey!" you shout to them, "let's go." You don't have to repeat yourself as all three of them are darting towards you, the beasts limping to give chase. You perform a shrill whistle to get $hound's attention, and he releases what you can only assume is now a dead nightbeast to catch up with you. At the same time, the wagon lurches forward, picking up speed as you get farther away from the pursuing beast, who soon makes the wise decision to give up. With a sigh, you place your head on the wagon's wall, taking deep breaths as you focus on the healing process. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Close quarters combat with a nightbeast is anything but a good time. Slowing your reaction speed to attack is even more foolish to you than the alternative, running. You dodge before the creature can get too close, skidding across the ground and then making to rise before dropping back down, just barely avoiding its flailing limbs. Its head lunges towards you, teeth snapping at air as it attempts to grab you in its jaws. You kick out on its next pass, landing a hit right under its eye. You believe it rears back and roars due to you but when it turns, you find Zihr behind it, using his blade to stab repeatedly at its hind-legs. The warning is on the tip of your tongue but its too late to utter it as the beast kicks out, sending Zihr flying across the sands. Thankfully, the <<if $guards_dead>>guard fires<<else>>guards fire<</if>> off another round of bullets, drawing the creature's attention as you rush towards Zihr. <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Can you walk?" you question, but he's unable to answer as he's gasping. The nightbeast kicked the air out of him, unsurprising but still rendering him unhelpful. You help get him to his feet and set off toward the wagon. Once you ensure he's secure, you get in and head to the front where the curtain rests, parting it to see the two waiting zeaches. "Go." "Is everyone ready?" Prourc asks, and you exchange a glance with him. "Go." He realizes what's happening and nods, cracking the reins as the dhole starts to move forward. You return to Zihr, who frantically points towards the guard still fighting. <<if $humor >=50>>"Oh, right. Thanks, Zihr." You let out a sharp whistle, gaining $hound's attention. He abandons the fight and rushes after you. You don't need to look down to know that Zihr is glaring at you.<<else>>You ignore him, letting out a sharp whistle, gaining $hound's attention. He abandons the fight and rushes after you. You don't need to look down to know that Zihr is glaring at you.<</if>> "You're…" he attempts, his voice sounding hoarse, "you're killing them." "I am." It must be how you say it because Zihr ends his round of questioning there. You watch as the nightbeasts surround the guard left for dead. Zihr may not like it, but you got what you want. You're guaranteed a spot into Taouron now. <<else>>\ "Can you walk?" you question, but he's unable to answer as he's gasping. The nightbeast kicked the air out of him, unsurprising but still rendering him unhelpful. You help get him to his feet and set off toward the wagon. Once you ensure he's secure, you get in and head to the front where the curtain rests, parting it to see the two waiting zeaches. "Be ready to leave when you hear me whistle." They nod. The guards attacking the beast together manage to get it down, though the terran one gets injured due to maintaining most of its focus. $hound has already wounded the prey he was after, and with both injured, it makes it nigh impossible for them to chase you. "Hey!" you shout to them, "let's go." You don't have to repeat yourself as all three of them are darting towards you, the beasts limping to give chase. You perform a shrill whistle to get $hound's attention, and he releases what you can only assume is now a dead nightbeast to catch up with you. At the same time, the wagon lurches forward, picking up speed as you get farther away from the pursuing beast, who soon makes the wise decision to give up. With a sigh, you place your head on the wagon's wall. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $guards_dead>>\ "I'll be fine," Zihr reassures you, "go and help them." You snort, "no." "What?" "We're leaving." <<if $zihr >=50>>\ He looks from you to the guard, who is still so caught up in fighting that they don’t realize what’s about to happen. “This isn’t right,” he mumbles but continues to move forward, helping you into the wagon. “We just condemned them to death.” “If you think you can save everyone, then you’re wrong. Sometimes a sacrifice here and there is required to win in the end.” “Then what’s the point of it all?” he asks. You shrug, “the path paved to victory is splattered in blood or some shit like that.” You perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he’s fighting to catch up with you. <<else>>\ He shakes his head, “this isn’t right.” “We can talk about moral conundrums later. If we stay, then we’re all dead.” You remove yourself from his grip and limp towards the wagon, wanting to sigh when you don’t feel his presence behind you. “Do you want to find out about your family and past?” You knew using that to get what you want would piss him off, but it would also bring things back into perspective for him. And though he gives you a dirty look, he moves forward. Once at the wagon, you perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he’s fighting to catch up with you. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ Once you ensure he's secure, you get in and head to the front where the curtain rests, parting it to see the two waiting zeaches. "Be ready to leave when you hear me whistle." They nod. The guards attacking the beast together manage to get it down, though the terran one gets injured due to maintaining most of its focus. $hound has already wounded the prey he was after, and with both injured, it makes it nigh impossible for them to chase you. "Hey!" you shout to them, "let's go." You don't have to repeat yourself as they both dart towards you, the beasts limping to give chase. You perform a shrill whistle to get $hound's attention, and he releases what you can only assume is now a dead nightbeast to catch up with you. At the same time, the wagon lurches forward, picking up speed as you get farther away from the pursuing beast, who soon makes the wise decision to give up. With a sigh, you place your head on the wagon's wall. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
It feels like forever before the wagon slows. "Is it safe to stop?" Prourc asks. "No," you answer, getting out the back and looking around, "but it doesn't really matter." The sun hasn't yet risen, but the shifting tones of the sky tell you that it'll happen soon. <<if $guards_dead>>You can feel Zihr's gaze scorching the back of your head, and you continue to ignore him. It's done. Staring at you will not save the guard or relieve him of whatever moral plight he finds himself sinking in.<</if>> <<if $guards_dead>>\ Prourc appears and looks the two of you over before nodding. "Was that the plan?" You shrug and ask, "did it mess up anything you have planned for yourself." Instead of verbally answering you, he nods, seeming to be content. If only Zihr could do the same. "You're alright with that?" he questions, "$name left someone for dead, and you're okay with that?!" "Better them than us," Prourc huffs, done with the conversation. "Unless one of you has a problem with it, we'll stay here and have a quick rest." No one says anything more, and it seems like that's decided. While everyone else attempts to sleep, you stay up with $hound just as attentive beside you. <<else>>\ Prourc looks the two of you over before nodding, "everyone looks to be okay." "Yea, we're good," <<if $injury_leg>>you tell him though you're staring at the large bruise that seems to be growing in size. It'll heal by the time you get to Taouron.<<else>>you tell him as you gaze around at this new area.<</if>> "Unless one of you has a problem with it. We'll stay here and have a quick rest." "And risk getting attacked by more nightbeasts?" the terran guard questions. "We're at risk whether we stay here or not," you tell them. "Better to let the dhole regain some energy instead of making it charge into another issue." No one says anything more, and it seems like that's decided. While everyone else attempts to sleep, you stay up with $hound just as attentive beside you. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You all set off with the true rise of the sun, hoping to close whatever gap remains between you and the Taouron wall. <<if $guards_dead>>The now-dead guards have provided the three of you with a great opportunity. Whereas before you only had a chance to get in, now it is guaranteed. If Zihr is still bothered by how you handled the situation, he says nothing to provide you with the answer. Perhaps he finds himself far too occupied staring at what lies on the horizon and grows near.<<else>>The guards have chosen now, out of all times, to be vigilant. There's a chance that raiders and pirates will attack, but as the figures in the distance get closer, that possibility dwindles until it is nothing.<</if>> The immobile objects you saw soon take the shape of tents and wagons, with multiple people moving around. Some stick to their caravans while others head towards the numerous stalls to trade in their goods for something else. "We did it," Checl murmurs, closing her eyes before repeating the words, "we're here." "What is this?" Zihr asks, "why choose to camp out here?" "It's a rest area," you answer, "most cities have this if they have non-city limits." Prourc nods and adds, "some people aren't allowed in because of lack of funds or papers, so they wait here until they can get them. Others have family that they're waiting to be contacted. And some would just rather take their chances here than the Outlands." Despite gaining answers, Zihr seems less than pleased and remains quiet. The obvious irritation radiating off of him causes you to raise an inquisitory brow, but you say nothing about the matter. Prourc moves past the throngs of people, pulling his dhole behind another. <a data-passage="2.31.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
There are three lines of scanners, each manned by a group of three. Your gaze moves upwards to two sentry towers, but tinted glass makes it impossible to see how many people are within. Probably droids to eliminate the need for breaks. From there, the walls stretch to create the impassable circle that houses the numerous city sectors and those within. How many times have you looked upon this wall? Not much. You remember staring down at it from the plane but that is it. Inside, you can't recall ever taking treks close enough to look upon it even though the safehouse was close. The small speeder in front of you is cleared, and your group moves forward. "Halt for scan," an automatic voice states as three guards approach. One mans a device that scans the wagon's contents, and a second guard moves to speak to Prourc and look over his papers. The third stays back and observes all of you lazily. <<if $guards_dead>>\ Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zihr visibly gulp. His posture grows stiff as he resituates himself and then shifts to grab something but stops at the last minute. "You're making yourself look even more suspicious," you whisper to him. "What if the manifests are wrong and give us away?" "They won't." "You could've messed up. It tends to happen." "I didn't." "You say that like you can be sure," he barks, and you sigh heavily. "Everything okay with the two of you?" one of the guards asks, looking from Zihr to you with a raised brow. Their partner also pauses their conversation with Prourc and glances over. <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Lover's quarrel.”|2.31LoverQuarrel]]<<else>>[[“Lover's quarrel.”|2.31LoverQuarrel]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“He's nervous.”|2.31ZihrNervous][$approach +=3]] [[“He has to pee.”|2.31ZihrPee][$approach -=3]] [[Say nothing.|2.31ZihrSN]] <<else>>\ "Best hurry this up," the terran guard states gruffly, fixing their bandolier, "I have a date with a bar." "That's still your main goal?" the raza one asks, shaking their head. "I'm looking for a bed and a warm meal." "Two things I can get at a bar." Your attention drifts from them to the guard looking over the papers as his gaze rises to your group. "Are they with you?" they ask Prourc. "Just traveling companions. The papers detail the three of us." "Then you're clear. Surrender your weapons for registration, and you and your companions will continue to the disinfectant chamber. You'll be separated from your merchandise and creature to be checked acutely for contraband. Your creature will also be put through a disinfectant procedure. Do you comply?" "I comply," Prourc answers, and the guard nods, motioning for Prourc to dismount. "Head through." Another guard takes the dhole's reins and leads the creature towards a separate door. <a data-passage="2.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Everything is quite alright," you chuckle and nudge Zihr roughly, "just a lover's quarrel. My partner loves to point out things from the past." Zihr guffaws, "are you kidding me?" "You do love to argue with me, yes?" "I don't argue. I point things out because you're constantly wrong." You give both guards a 'see what I have to deal with look,' but they have already returned to their jobs. "Next time, //sweetie//, I really need you to learn how to play along. Or am I destined to always do the work in this relationship?" "Can you stop referring to me as your lover," he grumbles, finally learning how to whisper. [[“A fantasy huh?”|2.31FantasyHuh][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[“My apologies.”|2.31MyApologies][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]
"Checking off too many personal fantasies at one moment, huh?" you tease, smirking as the tips of his ears grow a shade darker than usual. Luckily, the guard speaks before Zihr can. <<include "2.31.2">>
"I'm sorry. But you see why I had to do it, right?" He stares at you briefly before huffing and nodding, "yea, yea." <<include "2.31.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> Glancing at Zihr, you shrug, "he's nervous." "About?" "The manifest being wrong," you answer honestly, much to everyone's shock and Zihr's fear. You continue, "he's nervous you're going to find something there that shouldn't be." "Will I?" the guard questions, peering at Prourc and performing an even more pervasive check. "No. But nerves are nerves. Like when you get a surprise barrack inspection. You know you're straight, but that little voice in the back of your head says otherwise." One of the guards chuckles, and the one looking over the papers nods in understanding, his check coming to a sudden end. "Seriously?" Zihr whispers, "what if that didn't go as you predicted?" "Don't see how that would've been possible. You keep thinking I did something to the papers when I didn't." Zihr's mouth closes out of shock or from just having nothing to say. Who knows. <<include "2.31.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "You'll have to excuse him; he has to go to the bathroom." "He could have relieved himself in the camp," one of them points out, nodding to a few areas where you surmise a bathroom exists. "Too late now," you shrug, and he shrugs, continuing his job. "Leave my name out of it next time," Zihr growls. "Don't pull the focus to yourself then." <<include "2.31.2">>
You remain quiet, even having half a mind to walk away and remove yourself from the line of questioning. It takes a few minutes for Zihr to find his voice, "everything is fine. Just …" He fails to come up with a lie and simply shrugs and lets out a nervous laugh, "I don't know." "Nervous one isn't he?" the guard speaking to Prourc comments, "you sure giving him a gun was wise?" "Good guards are hard to come by," Prourc chuckles wholeheartedly, "I was lucky to find either." With that smoothed over, the guards return to their work. <<include "2.31.2">>
"Alright, you're clear. Relinquish your weapons for registration, and then you and your companions will continue to the disinfectant chamber. You'll be separated from your merchandise and creatures to be checked acutely for contraband. While your creatures are put through another kind of disinfectant procedure. Do you comply?" "I comply," Prourc answers, and the guard nods, motioning for Prourc to dismount, "head through." Another guard takes the dhole's reins and leads the creature towards a separate door while the third comes by to gather any weapons you have. Zihr's hand shakes as he hands over his blade, refusing to pull his gaze from the object until the guard has disappeared. "The hound is yours?" a guard asks, and once you nod, he displays a muzzle. You're not surprised; just unsure of how easy this will be. You perform a series of clicks, and once $hound sits before you, you begin to work it on. He thrashes a few times but trusts you enough to let you fasten it. Once you step back, he shakes his head, rubbing it against the ground to do away with the contraption. "Stop it," you scold, "it'll be off before you know it. Now go with them, and I'll see you on the other side." You make a few more clicks and point to the guard, who seems to be questioning their job. Looking from you to $hound, they reach forward only to stop and simply decide that walking off and coaxing him to follow is wiser. $hound follows, but you're unsure what will happen once he makes it inside. You then head towards the door that the others wait for you by. They hiss as they part, opening into a long corridor where a large, rotating circular machine rests on the opposing side. Your presence brings it to life, and the lights built within glimmer a faint blue as an automatic voice is heard overhead. <a data-passage="2.31.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Commencing disinfectant process, please continue walking down the corridor." The others pull ahead as you take up the rear. Each step finds your breath quickening. You push yourself to go on just as the machine passes by overhead. Your chest feels like it's folding in on itself as soon as the spray rains down upon you. The smell of brimstone and sulfur assault and aggravate your senses. The lights overhead begin to amplify, and the feeling of a dozen other bodies push in on you. The feeling of the slick liquid against your skin causes you to want to scream and claw at it, to be free of the accursed feel. You retch at your own disgust, choking on the hallucinatory smell of ammonia as it wafts into the corridor and settles. A small voice reminds you where you are and who surrounds you. This is not the time. You need to keep going; better yet, you have to. What will you say when the others eventually ask questions? When they turn to see that you have paused? "You will show me your weakness, and I will show you your death," someone whispers. Your blood chills, and you fight an opponent that is not there. //Move//, you yell at yourself, //move//! "$name!?" Your eyes widen in shock as you're transported back to the corridor, back to the now with … <<if $checl_touch>>\[[… Checl clutching your face.|2.31CheclTouch]]<</if>>\ [[… Prourc right beside you.|2.31ProurcTalk]] [[… Zihr right in front of you.|2.31ZihrFine]]
… Checl clutching your face between her softly padded hands. You look from her to your surroundings, finding breathing much easier once you focus on her touch. No, on her in general. Everything about her calm demeanor settles you. "Thanks," you say under your breath. "What was that?" she whispers so the others can't hear, though you fail to believe she can do so low enough for Zihr to stay ignorant. "Just a memory." <<if $idle is "cig">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab my e-cig." "$name," she says in her usual motherly tone. "Save it for later. Just give it to me." You inhale deeply as she rifles through your pockets, finally pulling the object out. You take it from her, cut it on, and take a long puff. A wave of serenity washes over you, and after one more puff, you're able to rise. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab my tuft container." "$name," she says in her usual motherly tone. "Save it for later. Just give it to me." You inhale deeply as she rifles through your pockets, finally pulling the object out. You take it from her, open it, and plop one of the wads into your mouth. A wave of serenity washes over you, and after a few seconds of chewing, you're able to rise. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab one of my picks." She nods, rifling through your pockets, until pulling one of the slim objects out. You take it from her and put it in your mouth. Moving it from side to side and chewing on the harsh wood, you're hit with a splash of mint that causes a wave of serenity to wash over you. Getting the flavored pack was wise. A few seconds later and you regain your ability to interact with your surroundings. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab a piece of candy." She nods, rifling through your pockets, until pulling one of the objects out. You take it from her and put it in your mouth. Moving it from side to side and chewing on the harsh edible, you're hit with a splash of mint and determine it to be a peppermint. You let the wave of serenity wash over you and a few seconds later you regain your ability to interact with your surroundings. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<else>>\ You wave it off, seeking to stand up when she asks, "a memory can do that?" A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.31.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
… Prourc right beside you. He looks like he wants to place his hand on your shoulder, but something stops him. Each time the thought arises, it's reevaluated a second later. "I'm alright," you reassure. "You can walk?" "Yes," to prove your words true, you rise to your feet and give him a look. "Very well." He turns and heads back towards the exit, and though the other two peer at you, wishing to question what has happened, you silently thank Prourc for never being too nosy. It makes a lot of things a lot easier to deal with. <<if $idle is "nothing">>You follow his lead through the door and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "cig">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out your e-cig. Hopefully this place doesn't have rules against it because you're about to break them. Cutting it on, you take a long puff and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. One more puff and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out your tuft container. Hopefully this place doesn't have rules against it because you're about to break them. Unscrewing the container, you plop one of the wads into your mouth and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out a toothpick. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste that coats the harsh wood. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<else>>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out a pice of candy, peppermint. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste. A few seconds of sucking on it and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.31.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
… Zihr, right in front of you, now kneeling and examining you keenly. The look within those amber orbs could almost be mistaken for worry, but you tell yourself it is simply irritation and nosiness. "I'm fine," you tell him, gathering your bearings before attempting to stand. "You are now. But you weren't before. What was that?" "Curious one, huh?" Your usual snarky and teasing ways seem to do the trick like always, and with a roll of his eyes, he makes it easy on both of you and leaves your side. <<if $idle is "nothing">>Following after, you head through the door and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "cig">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out your e-cig. Hopefully this place doesn't have rules against it because you're about to break them. Cutting it on, you take a long puff and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. One more puff and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out your tuft container. Hopefully this place doesn't have rules against it because you're about to break them. Unscrewing the container, you plop one of the wads into your mouth and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out a toothpick. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste that coats the harsh wood. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<else>>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and pull out a pice of candy, peppermint. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste. A few seconds of sucking on it and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.31.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
A large desk rests against a nearby wall with a screen directly over it. Two people work the area, neither of them concerned with you as you enter besides to give you directions. <<if $idle is "cig">>Or at least they aren't at first. "Um, excuse me," one of them call out, waving at you. "You're not allowed to smoke in here." The panic attack has subsided enough for you to do as they ask and you give them a thumbs up as you cut it off and place it back in your pocket.<</if>> "Scan and register your chip over there," one says before glancing back down at their wrist terminal. Prourc is the first, and then Checl. Neither of the screens shows anything interesting as Zihr goes next, and finally you. You're aware of all three moving closer to see, and even you can't honestly blame them. You're also curious about what will show. You've gone from trarkran slave to Dinami hitperson with little to nothing in between. But the Dinami don't leave loose ends. In their usual fashion, they would've wiped or hidden all data concerning you. Buried as a faceless body and a nobody to those using technology to ID you. The information appears, and though you stare back at the basic information you supplied your abacus a year ago, you still feel like you're staring at a nameless nobody. "Expected more," Prourc snorts under his breath, moving on. You gaze at the screen for a bit longer before following. <a data-passage="2.31.5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The next room is a holding one, simply a formality for them to say that they thoroughly questioned, examined, and reminded you of the laws. Each of those, they do half-heartedly if at all. For individuals like Prourc, they more so do that for one's goods, as that will land them in far more trouble than an individual who later commits a crime. Only a few minutes go by but it feels like far longer due to Checl's excitement. She finds herself standing and pacing the room before retaking her seat, only to find herself far too impatient and repeating the cycle. Finally, you're given the green light and the doors to the city are open to you. As soon as you make it outside, $hound is by your side, <<if $species is "blight">>and then a few yards away, and then once again by your side. He bumps into you, and you turn to tell him to calm down, but he's once again gone.<<elseif $species is "spirit">>nuzzling close and letting out tiny, thankful chirps. You can do nothing more than pet his head and smile, wishing he'd been around when you entered the disinfectant corridor, perhaps … perhaps.<<else>>taking a seat. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was bored, but you do, and the way his slits shift in tones, you know it's far more likely he's aggravated and devising ways of tearing the muzzle adorning his snout off.<</if>> "<<if $species is "blight">>Quite a handful you got," the attendant tells you, their eyes never leaving the chaotic hound,<<else>>Never thought I'd see a tamed hound," the attendant tells you, eyeing the creature,<</if>> "in your own dwelling, the muzzle can come off. But in public, it stays on, or you will be fined. Understood?" You nod, hating the idea but understanding the reasons. "Let's head in then," Prourc states, already making his way toward the wagon and mounting it. Checl speeds past you and Zihr, calling the seat next to him, the only thing calming her down is Prourc's threatening glances. You and Zihr get in the back, opening up the covering so you can still see ahead. With a final nod from all of you, Prourc motions for his dhole to head down the road and towards the city. <a data-passage="2.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Prourc approaches you before he goes. "Good luck. I'll send my shop's address to your chip, just in case." "No need," you tell him, "wait for us." He opens his mouth but then closes it, letting out a chuckle. "I'll see you inside then." You nod your thanks, watching as he leaves, and the guard turns their attention to you. "You got something for me, I'm guessing?" Checl hands the funds over, and you wait as another guard approaches. The two of them count and discuss. It takes only a few minutes before they turn to you, one leaving with the pouch as the other looks the three of you over. "Alright," they nod, "that's enough for one of you." "One of us?" Checl splutters out in disbelief. You wish you could match her shock, but this possibility reared itself a few times along your journey. Same as the guards simply taking the bribe and letting none of you or choosing two of you and leaving the last here to survive amidst the sands. "That bribe -" Zihr starts, but the guard cuts him off. "Is a bribe. Keep complaining, and all three of you will be turned away. Who wants that spot, I wonder." The vetix drums their gloved fingers against the top of their gun, glancing at each of you. [[Threaten them.|2.32Threat][$persuade -=10]] [[Charm them.|2.32Charm][$persuade +=10]] [[Take it.|2.32Mine][$ticketforone to true; $checlLo -=1; $zihrLo -=1]]
While the other two panic, you choose to take a deep breath. You hoped you wouldn't need to do this; intimidation is never a fun road to travel down. No, it is, but it's tiring. There is always too much perception needed to break the target down and decide which course is best to take. Thankfully, this guard is just that, a guard, and though there are a few outliers, most of them are all the same. You step up, causing Checl and Zihr to quiet their fussing as the guard raises a brow. "This is how this is about to go," you begin, "you're going to let all three of us through with that bribe, or you're going to find that sleeping for the next few nights will get especially hard." He snorts, "who the fuck do you think you are?" You lean in and whisper, "Dinami member 4-TGT-013. I dare you to act like you don't know what those numbers mean and what kind of situation you're in now." The latter isn't needed, as the guard stiffens, and you even see him gulp. "Then I let you in and not them." "I don't think so. Look me up if you want to fact-check me but know that the last thing you'll see is my threat level, if I even show up on any of your bullshit chips. You have a choice; let us in and continue living this mundane life of yours. Or create issues and see how exciting it can really get, no matter how short and fleeting that time may be." <a data-passage="2.32.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
While the other two panic, you let out a tired breath. You hoped you wouldn't need to do this; charming someone is never a fun road. It isn't the most challenging road to traverse, but it must be treaded upon carefully and skillfully. Thankfully, this guard is just that, a guard, and though there are a few outliers, most of them are all the same. You step up, causing Checl and Zihr to quiet their fussing as the guard raises a brow. "I'm going to reason with you," you begin, "we're not regular travelers, same reason why the previous man let us travel with them." "And what makes you so different?" You lean in and whisper, "I'm here on Dinami orders. These two are …" You look over at your companions and shrug, "let's say the Dinami has plans for them, but they don't know about it." "And I'm supposed to believe you're Dinami?" "4-TGT-013," you answer nonchalantly. For a moment, you pray they don't gain the need to look you up, but you're reminded that they can't. Dinami records are classified. Anyone caught snooping will find themselves hacked and later visited. Much to your satisfaction, the guard seems to understand the numbers, something you're not shocked by. Most guards in areas like this know of the Dinami and a few of the intricacies due to them working closely with the organization's smugglers. "Hit-person," they mumble, and you nod. "So you either let us in, or I'll have to report back what's holding me up even more." "Even more?" "Someone decided to start a gang war in the Outlands, keeping us from getting here sooner." <a data-passage="2.32.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
They're quiet for a tick longer before taking an unsteady step back, "you're allowed in, just continue through those doors." "Glad to hear it." You say nothing more as you walk past the guard and towards the door, the other two bounding to your side and peppering you with questions you had been preparing yourself to get. "Does it matter?" you ask, turning to look at them, "we're getting in. So let's go. Quickly, before Prourc gets too far ahead." Used to the mounds of secrets you hold, Checl shrugs and continues on. It doesn't matter to her how you got past the guard, just that you did, and for that, you're thankful. The same can't be said about Zihr, who stays planted, ready to bombard you with even more questions. Thankfully, a guard holding a muzzle approaches, and you're able to set your attention on them. "The hound is yours?" a guard asks, and once you nod, he displays a muzzle. You're not surprised; just unsure of how easy this will be. You perform a series of clicks, and once $hound sits before you, you begin to work it on. He thrashes a few times but trusts you enough to let you fasten it. Once you step back, he shakes his head, rubbing it against the ground to do away with the contraption. "Stop it," you scold, "it'll be off before you know it. Now go with them, and I'll see you on the other side." You make a few more clicks and point to the guard, who seems to be questioning their job. Looking from you to $hound, they reach forward only to stop and simply decide that walking off and coaxing him to follow is wiser. $hound follows, but you're unsure what will happen once he makes it inside. You then head towards the door that the others wait for you by. They hiss as they part, opening into a long corridor where a large, rotating circular machine rests on the opposing side. Prourc stands to the side, appearing bored until he sees you. "You made it." "Told you I would. Where are the guards?" "Already went through. Seems they have their own ways in." You nod as the lights built within the machine glimmer a faint blue and an automatic voice is heard overhead. <a data-passage="2.31.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Nothing personal," you say, stepping away from them and towards the guard, who laughs boisterously. You never liked that phrase. You know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a move like this, and you doubt it will ever be seen as anything other than personal. "$name," Zihr warns, and Checl cries out in shock. "I have things to handle," you tell them, "let's not act like this comes as a shock. I've always been in it for myself." Neither of them says anything as the guard beckons you along, leaving your two former companions standing there with helpless looks. They'll find a way if they genuinely want to make it past these walls. If not, then well ... that is no longer any business of yours. "The hound is yours?" a guard asks, and once you nod, he displays a muzzle. You're not surprised; just unsure of how easy this will be. You perform a series of clicks, and once $hound sits before you, you begin to work it on. He thrashes a few times but trusts you enough to let you fasten it. Once you step back, he shakes his head, rubbing it against the ground to do away with the contraption. "Stop it," you scold, "it'll be off before you know it. Now go with them, and I'll see you on the other side." You make a few more clicks and point to the guard, who seems to be questioning their job. Looking from you to $hound, they reach forward only to stop and simply decide that walking off and coaxing him to follow is wiser. $hound follows, but you're unsure what will happen once he makes it inside. There's no looking back, no hint of doubt in your actions as the metallic doors close behind you, and you enter Taouron. <a data-passage="2.33"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The procedure to enter the city is as extensive as you remember. After the doors close behind you, you find yourself in a long corridor where a large, rotating circular machine rests on the opposing side. Your presence brings it to life, and the lights built within glimmer a faint blue as an automatic voice is heard overhead. "Commencing disinfectant process, please continue walking down the corridor." One step and it whirls to life even more; the second begins to head towards you; the third and fourth are taken just as easily as the first. But every step thereafter finds your breath quickening. You will yourself to go on just as the machine passes by overhead. Your chest feels like it's folding in on itself as soon as the spray rains down upon you. The smell of brimstone and sulfur assault and aggravate your senses. The lights overhead begin to heighten, and the feeling of a dozen other bodies push in on you. The feeling of the slick liquid against your skin causes you to want to scream and claw at it, to be free of the accursed feel. You retch at your own disgust, choking on the hallucinatory smell of ammonia as it drifts into the corridor and settles. [[Fight through this.|2.33Gut][$gut +=2]] [[Remind yourself where you are.|2.33Mind][$mind +=2]] [[Take a moment to breathe.|2.33Heart][$heart +=2]]
You grit your teeth and practically yell at yourself to continue on. You have never been the type to give up. That type of person wouldn't have been able to survive the ordeals you've been through. Every trial would have failed, and a fractured spirit would have crumbled. But yours has not. Yours, though cracked and damaged beyond repair, still carries on. You believe you scream, and internally you thrash, but it feels like you go nowhere, as if every ounce of you is fighting quicksand, armed with the knowledge that it is only dragging you down further. <<include "2.33.1">>
"It's not real," you tell yourself, reminding yourself where you are. "This is Taouron. You're on Crion." The more you remind yourself of this, the more it all fades. A sun twice the brilliance of the one you have grown used to is now overhead, pelting you with its rays. By your side are two figures that remind you of both simpler times and the most hellish times of your life. Behind you, you hear that ancient language, and persisting through it all is the sleek feel of liquid against your skin and the pungent gas that refuses to leave your nostrils. <<include "2.33.1">>
//Inhale. Exhale.// An intense sun looms overhead, pelting you with its rays and making every breath laborious. //Inhale. Exhale.// A crowd gathers around shouting things in a language you will one day come to understand but never find an appreciation for. //Inhale. Exhale.// You repeat these directions until the scenes manifesting become stills and then disappear entirely. Deep inhale, steady and controlled exhale. <<include "2.33.1">>
"Hey," someone questions, and your eyes open to find someone at the end of the corridor. You gather yourself, glancing around, almost shocked that you are here and not on Miarilia. "You okay?" <<if $idle is "cig">>\ "Just peachy," you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out your e-cig. "There's no smoking in here," the employee tells you. "Then it's in your best interest to make sure I get out of here as quick as possible." You take a long puff and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. One more puff and you're ready to move forward, the disgruntled attendant right behind you. <<include "2.33.2">> <<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>\ "Just peachy," you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out your tuft container. "Are those drugs?" the employee asks incredulously. "Stupid question," you mumble, plopping a wad into your mouth. You revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to move forward, the disgruntled attendant right behind you. <<include "2.33.2">> <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ "Are any of us?" you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out a toothpick. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste that coats the harsh wood. "Are you sure you're okay?" the attendant asks, glancing at their wrist terminal, "the data isn't showing anything medical-wise. But I can conduct another scan." [[“That's because I'm fine.”|2.33BecauseImOhSoFine][$open -=3]] [[“I'm okay, thanks.”|2.33ImOkay][$open +=3]] [[“No, that's fine.”|2.33NoFine][$open +=3]] [[Shove past them.|2.33ShovePast][$open -=3]] <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ "I will be," you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out a pice of candy, peppermint. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste. "Are you sure you're okay?" the attendant asks, glancing at their wrist terminal, "the data isn't showing anything medical-wise. But I can conduct another scan." [[“That's because I'm fine.”|2.33BecauseImOhSoFine][$open -=3]] [[“I'm okay, thanks.”|2.33ImOkay][$open +=3]] [[“No, that's fine.”|2.33NoFine][$open +=3]] [[Shove past them.|2.33ShovePast][$open -=3]] <<else>>\ "Just keep talking," you mumble, walking forward and fighting the daze that overcomes you much like a wave. With every step, it retreats further, but you still feel like you're trekking through knee-high water that reveals itself to be sludge. A bright light and the sound of Prourc's voice bring you entirely back to the now. You hold onto it, letting both things secure you firmly to the here and now. "Are you sure you're okay?" the attendant asks, glancing at their wrist terminal, "the data isn't showing anything medical-wise. But I can conduct another scan." [[“That's because I'm fine.”|2.33BecauseImOhSoFine][$open -=3]] [[“I'm okay, thanks.”|2.33ImOkay][$open +=3]] [[“No, that's fine.”|2.33NoFine][$open +=3]] [[Shove past them.|2.33ShovePast][$open -=3]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "That's because I'm fine," you growl, pushing past them and towards Prourc and the desk he stands in front of. <<include "2.33.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "I'm okay," you tell them with an easy and hopefully genuine smile, "those things just tend to freak me out." They gaze at you in confusion but question you no further, nodding as they close down their wrist terminal and head back to their previous spot. You wander over to Prourc and the desk that he stands before. <<include "2.33.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "No," you tell them, straightening up, "that's quite alright. I'll be fine." "Are you sure?" "Yes. Some things can't really be fixed with medicine and fancy technology anyway." The attendant simply nods and wanders off while you muse over your words. What will fix it then? There are times when you believe you're okay. Free from the struggles that the past has bequeathed you, but then times like this rear up. And you know that freedom and escape are illusions brought on by a defiled mind. <<include "2.33.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> They're adding to a headache you're actively trying to alleviate, so you push past them. You focus on getting to Prourc, who stands only a few feet away, gazing at a screen that shows his chip's information. <<include "2.33.2">>
He pauses momentarily to look at you, "took you long enough." You chuckle, secretly thanking him for the sentence. You're back, and only your still hastened breathing confirms that you have undergone anything mildly traumatic. <<if $idle is "cig">>To avoid further trouble with any of the employees, you take one last puff of your cigarette before cutting it off and putting it back in its original home.<</if>> "You gonna hold up the line or move on?" you joke, and he murmurs something before moving to the side so that you can register your chip. You're as curious as the still lingering Prourc concerning what will show. You've gone from trarkran slave to Dinami hitperson with little to nothing in between. But the Dinami don't leave loose ends. In their usual fashion, they would've wiped or hidden all data concerning you. Buried as a faceless body and a nobody to those using technology to ID you. The information appears, and though you stare back at the basic information you supplied your abacus a year ago, you still feel like you're staring at a nameless nobody. "Expected more," Prourc snorts under his breath, moving on. You gaze at the screen for a bit longer before following him. The next room is a holding one, simply a formality for them to say that they thoroughly questioned, examined, and reminded you of the laws. Each of those, they do half-heartedly, if at all. You're given your possessions back and then given the green light, the doors to the city are open to you. <a data-passage="2.33.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As soon as you make it outside, $hound is by your side, <<if $species is "blight">>and then a few yards away, and then once again by your side. He bumps into you, and you turn to tell him to calm down, but he's once again gone.<<elseif $species is "spirit">>nuzzling close and letting out tiny, thankful chirps. You can do nothing more than pet his head and smile, wishing he'd been around when you entered the disinfectant corridor, perhaps … perhaps.<<else>>taking a seat. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was bored, but you do, and the way his slits shift in tones, you know it's far more likely he's aggravated and devising ways of tearing the muzzle adorning his snout off.<</if>> <<if $species is "blight">>"Quite a handful you got," the attendant tells you, their eyes never leaving the chaotic hound.<<else>>"Never thought I'd see a tamed hound," the attendant tells you, eyeing the creature.<</if>> "In your own dwelling, the muzzle can come off. But in public, it stays on, or you will be fined. Understood?" You nod, hating the idea but understanding the reasons. "Want a ride?" Prourc asks though the question need not be asked. He's already motioning for you to follow, and you are already heading towards the waiting dhole and wagon. "I just noticed that your two friends aren't here." "Wouldn't really call them friends after how I left them." "You must love being on other's shit lists?" [[“It was nothing personal.”|2.33NothingPersonal][$open -=3; $attitude +=3]] [[“No, but it seems unavoidable.”|2.33Unavoidable][$open +=3; $attitude +=3]] [[“Yes, it tickles me.”|2.33TicklesMe][$humor +=3; $attitude -=3]] [[“I did what I had too.”|2.33WhatIHadToo][$humor -=3; $attitude -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++ | Light ++</span><</if>> "It wasn't anything personal," you shrug, sitting beside him. "I fail to believe that they'll agree." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "2.34">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++ | Light ++</span><</if>> "No, but it always seems like something I can't quite avoid." "That's what happens when you put yourself first," he shrugs, "you'll always find yourself pissing off someone." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "2.34">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Humor ++ | Dark ++</span><</if>> "Yes, actually," you snort, "it tickles me." "I can't tell if you're serious or not," he starts, shaking his head, "and I don't think I want to find out." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "2.34">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++ | Dark ++</span><</if>> "You say that as if I go out of my way. I did what I had to, which just so happened to not be in their favor." "I hear you," he nods, "just make sure to understand that some things may not go your way either." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "2.34">>
While the buildings in the distance dwindle, the ones closer magnify and begin to take up most of your field of vision. Indeed Taouron is exactly how you remember it, surprisingly un-dusty for an area that holds nothing but sand. The street turns to a welcoming metallic gravel as people stop and peer at you in confusion. You can hardly blame them. This isn't the agricultural side of the planet, and everyone who needs to head somewhere does so with a hover car or speeder. Shifting your attention to Prourc, you ask, "are you going to sell the dhole?" "I don't know. I feel like if I sell her, she'll go to a slaughterhouse. She helped me get here. I'd hate for that to be her fate." There's a twinge of fear in his voice, one that you can at least understand. If his store is anything like you're thinking, it's no place for a dhole. Finding someone who works in agriculture will be a long and arduous process, and giving her over to just anyone may become a mistake. The black markets aren't just found in the Outlands, if anything the ones in cities are far worse. You can think of a handful of species that would happily guzzle down dhole meat. The thought causes you to look over at $hound, he too, has been getting a few looks, and the muzzle has only seemed to further his aggravation. Hopefully, you will find what you're looking for soon. Otherwise, you will have to think of what to do with him. <<if $ticketforone is false>>\ "Why not just keep it in your store?" Zihr asks, genuine confusion on his face. "Dhole's don't belong in stores," Checl answers, a look of confusion and humor spreading across her face. "They're too messy, and it'll scare customers away." "Not in the Outlands," Zihr points out but seems to realize his mistake and quiets down. None of you say anything, but you're sure all of you think the same, a fact that probably angers Zihr more. <<if $guards_dead>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $solars to 70>><</nobr>>\ "Also," Checl starts, turning and showing you the satchel. "It's not much but I managed to keep some of the solars. Seventy for each of us." You thank her and collect your pieces. "Try to turn those digital as soon as possible," you tell the two of them, noticing Zihr's frown. "I'll show you," Checl reassures him and though he nods, he is once again in a mood. If he's going to be upset each time something out here throws him for a loop or proves to make a fool out of him, he'll find himself always pissed off ... So, nothing changes then ... <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Thankfully, Prourc's store and new home aren't far. A few miles in and not following the more congested streets that lead deeper into the city and towards the capital. It sits amidst a few other buildings that are all near the same height. One looks to be a restaurant, and another, a store. The store's front windows are the usual hologram kind that allows customers to truly window shop and peer at the inventory before entering. The store is made of bricks, giving it an older feel and look that would never endure deeper in the city. In fact, the entire area has a feel to it that makes one feel much more at home and away from the fast-paced life that lies deeper within. It is as close as you'll ever get to the life you once lived back on Terra Genesis. <<if $ticketforone is false>>\ "This is amazing, Prourc," Checl answers, "not exactly what I was expecting, though." "And what were you expecting? Some ultra fancy spot further in?" "Well, everyone knows the capital is where you make your money," she chimes in. You almost wish to chuckle. The Outlands demeanor has been shed for someone far more comfortable in her surroundings. "I rather stay away from all of that. Even if I could survive, my store wouldn't." Checl says something else, but you have stopped paying attention due to Prourc. <</if>>\ "You've been quiet," he speaks, looking from you to his new home, "you don't like it?" [[“You care?”|2.35YouCare]] [[“Just taking it all in.”|2.35TakingItAllIn]]
"When have you ever cared about what someone else thinks?" "Never, until now," he admits. His tone makes an initially innocent statement sound far more cryptic, and though your eyes follow him as he enters, you remain silent. <<if $ticketforone>>\ He pauses at the door, turning to look at you, "you off?" "Yea," you nod, "I should get a lay of it all before dark. See if my memory is still on my side." "Will you be back?" "Maybe." He nods in understanding and then enters. It's an odd and incomplete goodbye, but you're determined to start now. You need to see if the Dinami safe house is there and if you can gain the information you so desperately seek. With one last look at the store and then adding the location to your chip, just in case, you trek off with $hound trotting at your side. Those you pass provide a wide berth for you, their narrowed stares glaring at you, but you are less concerned with them than you are your destination. <</if>>\ <<include "2.36">>
"Just taking it all in. The area is nice, and you have a great spot from what it looks like." "Let's hope that's true," he sighs. At first, you believe he says that simply due to nerves, but that thought changes as you consider his deflated posture. He enters his store, but you remain outside. <<if $ticketforone>>\ He pauses at the door, turning to look at you, "you off?" "Yea," you nod, "I should get a lay of it all before dark. See if my memory is still on my side." "Will you be back?" "Maybe." He nods in understanding and then enters. It's an odd and incomplete goodbye, but you're determined to start now. You need to see if the Dinami safe house is there and if you can gain the information you so desperately seek. With one last look at the store and then adding the location to your chip, just in case, you trek off with $hound trotting at your side. Those you pass provide a wide berth for you, their narrowed stares glaring at you, but you are less concerned with them than you are your destination. <</if>>\ <<include "2.36">>
Studying the immediate area, you attempt to remember the way to the Dinami base. It's been a year since you've been here, and though you wish to say you remember it all, you do not. At most, you know that you stand in a slightly hectic area, not as frantic as the capital but far more lively than the quiet agricultural areas. Many of those coming in from the Outlands see themselves here, causing several general and clothing stores to move to the site. Along with that, it also drew in recruitment spaces, hoping to find some fresh and overlooked talent desperate for a job. And finally, guards who work the walls will move their families closer to their place of work. This not only brought typical styles of commerce but an assortment of bars that wisely followed the pockets of the military. The problem you face is remembering where the safe house resides. Though not officially, the entire area is divided into sectors, with the center being the capital, Tebriri. The safe house isn't in Tebriri, but you doubt it is in Taouron, perhaps closer to the Phanta or Talke sector. You scratch your head. In the past, Tsering was always in charge of getting you from one place to another. A mistake, you see now. But you'll just toss it on the steady-growing pile of them. "So?" Checl inquires. You turn only your head to watch her and Zihr approach. "Where to now?" [[“Nowhere.”|2.36Nowhere]] [[“This is where it ends.”|2.36WhereItEnds]] [[“I know where I'm going.”|2.36WhereImGoing]]
"Nowhere," you answer, straightening up, "this is where our paths go their separate ways." <<include "2.37">>
"It's been fun, but –" "But?" You can see how much she stiffens, begging you not to say what she probably anticipates. "But this is where we go our separate ways." <<include "2.37">>
"I know where I'm going," you tell her, straightening up, "don't know about the two of you but good luck." "Good luck?" Checl looks at Zihr and then back at you, "what do you mean?" "This is where our affiliation ends." <<include "2.37">>
At first, Zihr's expression is unreadable, but then he sighs, unsurprised, or at least doing his damndest to hide it. He turns on his heel to walk away, but Checl grabs him, yanking him back to her side with a force that surprises both of you. "No!" she shouts, "this is not how this ends." Her voice rises in a mix of anger and sadness. She turns to you with pleading eyes, "please. We've been through too much." [[“It's been an adventure.”|2.37Adventure]] [[“Had to end sometime.”|2.37HadToEnd]] [[Just go.|2.37JustGo]]
"I know this isn't what you want to hear," you start, managing a small smile as you take a few steps back to dissuade her from grabbing you, "but it's been fun, it really has. A real adventure." "Are you serious?" she shouts, glaring at you, "were you planning this the entire time?" "Checl," you sigh, "I've been planning this since I stepped foot in the Outlands." //Fell//, your brain chooses to correct and you roll your eyes at the reminder. "So we never meant anything to you?" Your gaze shifts to Zihr, who looks on inquisitively. On the one hand, there's no need to lie. This will be the last time you see each other, but that's just it. Why provide even more pain on a parting? "Goodbye," you tell them, turning and going on your way. <<include "2.38">>
"Had to end sometime," you point out, putting enough space between you to dissuade her from grabbing you. "How else would you like it to happen?" Looking both of them over, you hum in thought, realizing that this will be your last time together. A part of you, one that isn't so jaded from experiences like this, wishes to reach out and tell them your thoughts. How the last few months have meant something to you, even if on a scale that neither of them will appreciate. But that part of you is minuscule. So small that even a whisper can barely describe the depths of its persuasiveness on you. <<include "2.38">>
Her hold is on Zihr, not you. And you take the opportunity to put even more space between you as you back away. "$name!" she shouts as you go, but understands that there's nothing she can do to stop you. You can imagine her anger but that isn't your problem anymore. <<include "2.38">>
As you go, you decide that your best course of action is to go to the places you believe the safe house to be. If that fails, you'll divide Taouron into a grid and check it piece by piece before moving on to the next sector. The thought causes you to cringe. It isn't the most time-efficient job, and though there is no time limit, you fear one may arise. <a data-passage="Chapter Three"><img src="images/ch_3.png" alt="Chapter Three" style="float:center"/></a>
<img src="images/compendium.png" width="80%"> <div class="codex"> <a data-passage="StatGuide">guide</a> <a data-passage="Locations">locations</a> <a data-passage="Species">species</a> <a data-passage="Flora/Fauna">fauna</a> <a data-passage="Factions">factions</a> <a data-passage="Dictionary">dictionary</a> </div> @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
*Raza *<<link 'Shaph'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/shaph.png" align="right" width="30%">The shaph is a bipedal creature that possess four arms of the same length with four thick fingers on each, one of those fingers holding an opposable thumb. They are flat-footed with feet possessing four toes. They are a muscular and bulky species, weighing anything between 200 to 300 pounds (90 to 136kg) though this number has been known to be higher. Their skin is made up of coarse material that many compare to the feeling of wood and has a texture similar to the plants from their homeworld, Stronoe. A Shaph's skin is smooth but thick, providing natural armor but also skin that takes an exceedingly long time to adjust to new temperatures. The ideal temperature is between 70°F/20°C and 80°F/26°C. An individual can live in temperatures higher and lower but will find themselves extremely uncomfortable and find it hard to function for a few months until they are adjusted. The wider the gap, the longer it will take for a Shaph to adjust. Due to this, most Shaphs will stay in familiar biomes or will need to wear protective suits to combat the temperature shifts. A Shaph's blood is black, similar in color to the nitrogen oxide gas that they can naturally emit. As many species see and experience it, the shaph do not have binary sexes but trinary. All three sexes are needed to properly "give birth." Each shaph is born with one of three different facial markings which act as the only visual identifier to an individual's sex. Shaph is a genderless race and do not recognize the use of pronouns. Instead they simply use their names.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Terran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>>Terrans are a sentient, bipedal mammal race originating from the planet Terra Genesis in the Terra system. Thanks to their high fertility and quick breeding capabilities, they soon became one of the dominant species (rivaled only by the trarkrans and raza). This earned them the ire of the galaxy, but at the same time became highly favored for many tasks due to their high adaptability. Whereas other species could not do various jobs due to several things, terrans proved fairly adaptable and hardy enough to exist throughout multiple places in the galaxy. A terran's base senses are average, which is neither good nor bad compared to other species that find one sense surpassing others or all senses being sub-par at best. A terran's anatomy allows them to be fairly flexible, built mainly for endurance. Once struck by cosmicium, the terran adaptability trait evolved. Once able to simply adapt to specific circumstances, reasonable temperatures, and mild changes in the environment. Being touched by cosmicium saw their adaptability occurring at a far faster pace. Though there is still a limit to how the body will change, a terran's body and senses will evolve to better accommodate their surroundings. Hybrids, commonly known as tetigit terran, see a greater range of senses and adaptability. They also possess a range of psionic powers that range from diminutive to immense.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Trarkran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/trarkran.png" align="right" width="30%">(Tu-wahk-wen) The trarkran are native to the Lyrae System, originating from Miarilia. They are the most prominent species in the galaxy and the first to discover and utilize cosmicium. Almost every species, save for vetix and draqe, have them to thank for where they are today. They are a traditional and highly competitive society that openly views their ways as superior to other species. The trarkran basic anatomy is similar to the terran's, with significant differences being their cartilage-based head crests, tails, and having only four digits on their hands. Their head crests are flexible and hardy and, therefore, able to be moved in a series of different styles without concern of damage. Crest limitations and growth are specific to the individual, with some finding their crest growing only a few inches before stopping and others finding their crests thicker and longer than others. Their crests are always an ombre color, with the base being the same as their skin and the tip being the same shade as their facial marking. They possess two sensitive ears that sit high on their heads and are used as a form of expression. They possess flat noses with ridges and small spikes on both sides of their jaws. They also have tails, with males possessing only one and females possessing two. In both circumstances, these highly flexible tails are used for balance, piercing, and are later shown to also be used to care for the young. The tail is strong enough to lift various things, and a child is one of them. Due to females being the primary hunters, the extra tail allows for additional balance and mobility, and when used during hunts as a rudder, allows for sharper turns and a boost of speed during these turns. The species' skin tones range from shades of brown, orange, and red, while facial markings rely on their skin tone but will predominantly be shades of brown or grey. Their eyes have been observed to exist in every color save for white and black. Their pupils are slits that can get rounder upon dilation, and their brightly saturated irises are large and always resting against a black sclera. Cosmicium reacts different to all species. For trarkran, it led to a manipulation of their blood, thus allowing them to inflame a mix of energy and blood and use it as a power source known as moi̥. Able to be utilized as a defensive and offensive ability, trarkrans must also discharge it in an act called 'sparking.' A buildup of blood and energy can lead to death if not emptied. Severe heat temperatures will also cause the sensation to grow faster, while colder temperatures are slowed due to the buildup being burned off to heat the individual.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Vetix'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/vetix.png" align="right" width="30%">The third most widespread species would be the vetix and, similar to terrans, have races within their species: the Voth, Askax, and Vranok. War and religious infighting plagues their history and has led to the destruction of their planet. Vetix generally stand around 5'8 (172.72 cm) to 6'6 feet (198.12 cm) and are all quite muscular. Their bodies are made up of soft reptilian-like scales and far more rigid chitin material covering their sides, back, and the upper part of their heads. Whereas their body can exist in orange, tan, brown, and black colors, their chitin markings are always dark grey, brown, or black. These markings have three different styles, which differ depending on one's race. They are primarily a monomorphic species with only head crests giving any visible sign of a difference between genders. Females' head crests lie closer to the cranium and do not travel as far as males'. They have four fingers with sharp claws and two toes at the end of each foot. Their legs have a slight digitigrade appearance, and on the back of each calf are two upturned, thick spikes. Similar curved spikes can also be found on their elbows and exist in threes. They have three slits on both sides of the neck that help with temperature regulation. Though their other senses are nowhere near lacking, the one sense that vetix are best known for is their sight. They have exceptional sight that becomes even more so in the absence of light. While many species portray their emotions differently, vetix mainly shows theirs through their eyes. When portraying moods that the individual perceives as negative, their eye color will lose saturation, while positive emotions will find the saturation growing. All races can share memories through their eyes. Intentions and prolonged eye contact are required for the action to occur.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Zeach'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/zeach.png" align="right" width="30%">The zeach are a sentient, bipedal avian race that once held the ability to glide but has since lost such a function. They originate from the planet Dichi, but after surrendering to the vetix, can now be found largely on Cheria. The zeach have slender frames and stand anywhere between 5'7 (68 inches) to 6'5 (77 inches), though head feathers may add a few more inches. They have two arms with three fingers on each hand and two toes. The palms of their hands are softly padded while their nails are slightly curved and talon-like. Two sets of three, thin ears resembling butterfly wings rest along the side of their face. These ears are extremely sensitive and help regulate the species temperature. Mandible flaps exist around their mouth and lend credence to an all vegetation diet. The most notable feature on a zeach are their head feathers. Feathers can be found on both the species head and the elbow area. They have wide eyes with their sclera being either white or gold and the actual iris being black with no visible pupil. Unlike most species, the zeach have no kind of natural armor, a fact that may be due to the lack of predators on their home planet. They have a faster metabolism than many and their bodies are made for quickness and agility, not strength or endurance. Their skin tones can range from gold and browns to black and white and grey, and though not common, red. Along with obvious genitals, one can tell the difference between the sexes due to feather coloring. Male feathers are often shorter with muted colors of brown, black, white, and grey. While the female sex possess longer feathers that are thicker and bolder in color.<</dialog>><</link>> [[Return|$return]]
*Aiczeots *Nightbeasts [[Return|$return]]
<h2>Crion</h2> [[Return|$return]]
*Dinami *Tebriri Nightwalkers [[Return|$return]]
*''khingʻ'' (xiŋʔ) v. - found in the Sikstan language. The word describes a process where a shaph will sit and connect to a power source, usually done in the vicinity of (SHAPH WORD HERE) plants. At this time they are essentially recharging and feeding themselves. In other languages, this words is translated to meditation and in others, to sleep. *''kursur'' (ˈkulku) n. - a derogatory term in the Tyli'qu language that is used to describe someone of poor character who betrays those they know for baseless desires. It was usually used by raza and given to other raza who gave others up to trarkran forces for little gain. *''lu̥skolki̥'' (lu̥s / kolki̥) n. - found in the Tyli'qu language. A utensil that appears like chopsticks with sharp, pointy ends and serrated sides so the sticks can be used for both cutting and poking. *''moi̥'' (mu-we) v. - means to shine, glow, radiate, sweat, blush. It is also the name used to describe the trarkran's specific fire/spark ability. *''pem-rits'' (pem / riʦ) - with pem meaning 'blood' and rits representing the preposition 'of' this combined phrase is present in every trarkran name. It shows at the end due to structure and points at the bloodline of the individual. *''relsim'' n. - found in the Tyli'qu language. Meaning idiot or fool *''syaks'' (swujaks) n. - found in the Sikstan language. Origin, root [[Return|$return]]
<img class="img-invert" src="images/bumstudios.png" width="500" height="111" align ="center"> @@.center; ©2023 Bum Studios LLC. All rights reserved. @@ All images and audio are licensed under Bum Studios LLC. Copyright infringement is punishable by law. Audio belongs to respected artists and courtesy of Storyblocks Audio, Envato, and Incompetech. Incompetech attribution found in ''CREDITED MUSIC'' section. ''CONTACT'' If you have any questions or issues please contact me @ ... email: 13leaguestories@gmail.com tumblr: 13leaguestories.tumblr.com ''CREDITED MUSIC'' Music: Lorem Ipsum (With Sum Crossings) by Lilo Sound Free download: https://filmmusic.io/song/9863-lorem-ipsum-with-sum-crossings License (CC BY 4.0): https://filmmusic.io/standard-license Artist website: https://electronicmoods.com/ ''CREDITED ART'' Species Art by [[Beto Miranda|https://betomirandaart2.carrd.co/]] Character and Aiczeots Art by [[Nilus|https://nilusart.tumblr.com/]] ''TWINE WIDGETS'' By [[HiEv|https://qjzhvmqlzvoo5lqnrvuhmg.on.drv.tw/UInv/Sample_Code.html#Main%20Menu]] and [[Chapel|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/]] [[Return|$return]]
<span class="sidenote">Select the title image for an in-depth look at each category when applicable.</span> <a data-passage="Sidebar_Personal"><img src="images/personal.png" alt="Personal"/></a> ''Brain'': <<if $mind gt $gut and $mind gt $heart>>Rational<<elseif $heart gt $mind and $heart gt $gut>>Emotional<<elseif $gut gt $mind and $gut gt $heart>>Instinctual<<else>>Balanced<</if>> ''Alignment:'' <<if $approach >=60>>Lawful<<elseif $approach <=40>>Chaotic<<else>>Neutral<</if>> <<if $attitude >=60>>Good<<elseif $attitude <=40>>Evil<<else>>Neutral<</if>> ''Class'': $class ''Health'': $health ''Pouch'': $solars ''Agility'': $agility ''Combat'': $combat ''Medical'': $medical ''Weapons'': $weapons ''Diplomacy'': $tact ''Technology'': $tech ''Intelligence'': $smarts ''Comic'' <meter @value="$humor" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Sober'' ''Zealous'' <meter @value="$view" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Jaded'' ''Candid'' <meter @value="$open" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Evasive'' <sub><<link 'see number version'>><<dialog 'Personal'>>''Comic'': <<print $humor>> ''Candid'': <<print $open>> ''Zealous'': <<print $view>> <</dialog>><</link>></sub> <img src="images/loadout.png"> ''Armor'': $armor_type ''Modifications'': ''Primary Weapon'': $w_primary ''Secondary Weapon'': $w_secondary <a data-passage="Sidebar_Relations"><img src="images/relations.png"></a> <<link "Tsering Arinasai">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/tsering_card.jpg" alt="Tsering Arinasai"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $tsering >=50>>Playful<<else>>Serious<</if>> Loyalty: $tserLo <<if $flirt_tser>>\Romance: $tserRo/<<if $tserRo >=50>>Dominant<<else>>Submissive<</if>><<else>><</if>> <<if $unlock_checl>> <<link "Checl Queziz">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/checl_card.jpg" alt="Checl Queziz"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $checl >=50>>Sheltered<<else>>Hardened<</if>> Loyalty: $checlLo <<if $flirt_checl>>\Romance: $checlRo/<<if $checlRo >=50>>Nervous<<else>>Teasing<</if>><<else>><</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_zihr>> <<link "Zihr Highstrider">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/zihr_card.jpg" alt="Zihr Highstrider"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $zihr >=50>>Rebel<<else>>Compliant<</if>> Loyalty: Loyalty: $zihrLo <<if $flirt_zihr>>\Romance: $zihrRo/<<if $zihrRo >=50>>Direct<<else>>Reserved<</if>><<else>><</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_ne0>> <<link "ELN-L593-NE0">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/ne0_card.jpg" alt="ELN-L593-NE0"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $ne0 >=50>>Emotional<<else>>Logical<</if>> Loyalty: Loyalty: $ne0Lo <</if>> <<if $unlock_sin>> <<link "Sin D' Baloren">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/sin_card.jpg" alt="Sin D' Baloren"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $sin >=50>>Patient<<else>>Strict<</if>> Loyalty: $sinLo <<if $flirt_sin>>\Romance: $sinRo/<<if $sinRo >=50>>Career<<else>>Family<</if>><<else>><</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_minute>> <<link "Minute">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/minute_card.jpg" alt="Minute"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $minute >=50>><<else>><</if>> Loyalty: $minuteLo <<if $flirt_minute>>\Romance: $minuteRo<<else>><</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_seben>> <<link "Seben">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/seben_card.jpg" alt="Seben"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $seben >=50>><<else>><</if>> Loyalty: $sebenLo <<if $flirt_seben>>\Romance: $sebenRo<<else>><</if>>\ <</if>>
@@.center;<h1>BIOGRAPHY</h1>@@ ''Name'': $name Moran ''Gender'': <<if $trans>>Trans <</if>>$gender ''Pronouns'': ?he/?him ''Appearance'': Your eye and marking color is $markings and you <<if $length is "bald">>are bald.<<else>>have $length, $color <<if $hair is "braids" or $hair is "dreads">>$hair<<else>>$hair hair<</if>><</if>>. You have <<if $tattoo is "none">>no<<elseif $tattoo is "few">>a few<<else>>several<</if>> tattoos and <<if $scars is "none">>no<<elseif $scars is "few">>a few<<else>>several<</if>> scars. Your genitals are <<if $sex is "v">>a vagina<<elseif $sex is "p">>a penis<<else>>not disclosed<</if>> and you have <<if $chest is "p">>visible breasts<<else>>no visible breasts<</if>>. ''Current Health'': $health ''Current Injuries'': <<if $injury_leg>>Leg injury.<<else>>You have no current injuries.<</if>> @@.center;<h1>PERSONALITY & SKILLS</h1>@@ ''Brain'': <<if $mind gt $gut and $mind gt $heart>>Rational<<elseif $heart gt $mind and $heart gt $gut>>Emotional<<elseif $gut gt $mind and $gut gt $heart>>Instinctual<<else>>Balanced<</if>> ''Alignment:'' <<if $approach >=60>>Lawful<<elseif $approach <=40>>Chaotic<<else>>Neutral<</if>> <<if $attitude >=60>>Good<<elseif $attitude <=40>>Evil<<else>>Neutral<</if>> ''Persuasion Technique'': <<if $persuade >50>>Charm<<elseif $persuade <50>>Intimidate<<else>>Neutral<</if>> ''Comic'' vs ''Sober'': <<if $humor >=50>>Comic<<else>>Sober<</if>> ''Zealous'' vs ''Jaded'': <<if $view >=50>>Zealous<<else>>Jaded<</if>> ''Candid'' vs ''Evasive'': <<if $open >=50>>Candid<<else>>Evasive<</if>> ''Class'': $class ''Agility'': $agility ''Combat'': $combat ''Medical'': $medical ''Weapons'': $weapons ''Diplomacy'': $tact ''Technology'': $tech ''Leadership'': $leader ''Intelligence'': $smarts ''Threat Level'': U0 @@.center;<h1>QUIRKS & MISC</h1>@@ ''Idle Hobby'': <<if $idle is "cig">>Cigarettes<<elseif $idle is "candy">>Candy<<elseif $idle is "tobacco">>Chewing Tobacco/Dip<<elseif $idle is "pick">>Toothpick<<else>>Nothing<</if>> ''Homeplanet Souvenir'': <<if $souvenir is "hat">>A hat<<elseif $souvenir is "jacket">>A jacket<<elseif $souvenir is "necklace">>A necklace<<elseif $souvenir is "scarf">>A scarf<<else>>Nothing<</if>> @@.center;<h1>ABACUS NOTES</h1>@@ ''Solars Account'': $solars ''Mods & Upgrades'': @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
@@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
''Romantic Gender Interest'': $int ''Sexual Attractiveness Levels'': $s_att ''Romance Attractiveness Levels'': <<if $r_att is "no">>non-existent<<elseif $r_att is "yes">>existent<<else>>fluctuating<</if>> <<if $int is not "none">>''Available Romances'': <<if $flirt_zihr>>Zihr,<</if>> <<if $flirt_checl>>Checl,<</if>> <<if $flirt_tser>>Tsering,<</if>> <<if $flirt_sin>>Sin,<</if>> <<if $flirt_minute>>Minute,<</if>> <<if $flirt_seben>>Seben<</if>><</if>> Below are the list of characters that you are able to romance. This is here to better choose a LI but is not needed if you do not care for such things. Along with their names, the following are also introduced in the following order: gender, orientation, libido, and romantic attraction. ''Tsering Arinaci'': Male | Bisexual | High (Submissive) | Present ''Checl Queziz'': Female | Bisexual | High (Submissive) | Present ''Zihr Highstrider'': Male | Bisexual | High (Switch) | Present ''Sin D'Baloren'': Nonbinary/Genderfluid | Bisexual/Asexual | Nonexistent | Present ''Minute'': Nonbinary/Genderfluid | Bisexual/Grayromantic | Medium | Fluctuating ''Seben'': Female | Bisexual/Graysexual | Fluctuating | Present It should also be noted that ''not'' every choice needs to be chosen to become romantically invested in a character. This is especially true in favor of keeping true to your character. For example: a situation may be perfect for a Moran who wishes to tease Zihr and have romantic options to show for it, but may not be opportune for a Moran who is a bit shyer and reserved and there will be no options for them. In situations like this, it is totally fine to not choose a romance option and instead wait for a better representing choice later on. @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
@@.center;<h1>MARKINGS</h1>@@ Markings come in five different colors and each give a different boost to Moran's already pre-existing abilities. This is also the same color as Moran's eyes. *''Red'': Health boost +10. Moran's health has actually gotten better due to the experiments, miracles come in the oddest ways. *''Purple'': Natural armor. +10 with no armor and an additional +5 with any kind of armor. The Baron's experiments have drastically changed Moran's skin and its durability, providing an almost armor like effect. *''Gold'': Additional moi̥ ability and granting them more control over their moi̥. *''Green'': Agility +10. Moran's reflexes and movement are abnormal. Their perception and accuracy has also been greatly increased. *''Blue'': Unlock stealth trait. Whatever the Baron did has affected Moran's skin, allowing them an easier time in the world of stealth. @@.center;<h1>STATS</h1>@@ Below are personality stats and what they mean for Moran as a character. <<link "GUT/MIND/HEART">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Gut, Mind, or Heart (3 Brains) are three stats that follow and govern Moran's attitude and response to certain things. All three can be leveled up without a cap, but it should be noted that certain situations will call for the highest. An example accompanies each explanation. The scenario is that Moran is told to steal an item without any witnesses. They make it to the item, but there is a witness. *''Gut (Instinct)'': The Gut focuses on instinct. Gut Morans will find themselves instantly reacting to the changes in their environment by choosing fight, flight, or freeze. Actions and decisions are made purely based off of what will lead to the continuation of life. They usually are the type to act first and think and/or feel later. Example: Moran eliminates the witness. *''Mind (Logic)'': Mind focuses on logic and reasoning. These Morans stop and think things through, allowing them to make the most logical choice. This allows for plans to be formed with both short and long-term ideas in mind. Example: Moran observes and possibly questions the witness to learn who they are and, therefore, decide what they will do about them. *''Heart (Emotion)'': The Heart focuses on emotions and habits. A Moran with high heart usually lets their moral compass and beliefs guide them regarding decisions. There is far more compassion involved. Example: Moran allows the witness to escape. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "PERSUASION">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Moran has three different ways to persuade someone when the time comes. While each technique will always work (i.e., it doesn't matter if you use charm or intimidation; either will work), diplomacy affects whether Moran will succeed. *''Charm'': Morans who fall under the charm technique appeal to their target's personality, pride, and other things to get what they want. They know how to use words to effectively get others to side with them and have a way of swaying the crowd. *''Intimidate'': Morans who fall under the intimidate technique use their strengths to cause others to feel small and provoke fear. They are likelier to use action and threats than pretty and well-placed words. They have a way of causing others to back out and second-think situations. *''Neutral'': The neutral technique simply uses one's knowledge to help them and doesn't exactly mean it will work 100% like the others. This Moran will persuade others based on knowing something that another doesn't. For example, if Moran is trying to convince a guard to leave an area, they may have information from a superior that they can use or blackmail someone. If they have information to aid them, they are more likely to succeed; if not, they may fail. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "ALIGNMENT">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ There are nine possible alignments that Moran can be, and at its basic level, it follows the alignment system set up by the rules of D&D. But again, that is on the basic level due to my dislike of the white/black outlook on matters that are especially grayscale. Below offers more knowledge directly dealing with Moran. *''Lawful vs Chaotic'': Lawful Morans mostly just mind their business. They are far more truthful than their counterpart, even if this truth is one that will bring pain. They don't have time to spend on things that do not concern them or things that will slow them down. They are least likely to cause trouble and are far more the type to sit back and observe. Their chaotic counterpart revels in the ability to provide chaos. They administer their own forms of justice and will do what pleases them. This does not mean they do not think their actions through, their actions are just more tailored to their own thoughts on justice and what should fall upon someone they believe is in the wrong. *''Good/Light vs Evil/Dark'': At its core, good/light means Moran is kinder and has a greater respect for others. A Light Moran will still have a habit of putting themselves first when it comes down to it but they are far more likely to think of others. They will not immediately believe that killing is the only option. They have a habit of helping others, even when they don't directly mean to and are least likely to ask for something in return for helping another. Dark Morans do not actively pursue death and the act of killing but have no qualms about it. They, at the end of the day, will put themselves first even when they have the option to aid another. The likelihood of them doing something for no favor or cost is extremely low. Simply said, if it doesn't help them get to their goal then it is none of their business. Everyone is a means to an end. *''Neutral'': A neutral Moran in terms of Light/Dark is one that simply does what they please. They will put themselves first but they are not entirely without sympathy and will help others, though not without benefit, no matter how small. Killing is not the first option but it's not far down the list either. In respect to Lawful/Chaotic a neutral Moran will also do what they please but is far less likely to cause trouble. They may think about it and even voice their wishes but will not act on those wishes. Justice is whatever they wish it to be but they understand it is not their place to execute it unless their hands are tied. <</popover>>\ <</link>> @@.center;<h1>AICZEOTS</h1>@@ Your trusty hound is known as a ''Aiczeots'' (ack-zotes), which in terran tongue translates to Element Hound. These hounds come in different varieties and like their name suggests, of elements, not all common to terran knowledge. Moran has the choice of four different hounds that can be found in the Outlands area where they meet. <<link "BLOOD">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Blood aiczeots are known for two things: their bright red slit markings and their ability to smell even the slightest bit of blood from three miles away. Their tail is sharper than many, and when striking an individual will cause them to bleed. Though they have been shown to attack and maim their prey, they typically only go after those wounded, sick, or old and play a waiting game. They are nicknamed the Vampire Hound. They are solitary, wishing to stay to themselves in most circumstances. Even when bonded, they are known to still be highly antisocial and may even become agitated when amongst others. They typically watch things from a distance, applying careful logic to situations. *''Ability'': Blood Tracking. Can either track an individual bleeding or go after a specific scent in someone’s blood as long as they have an open wound. *''Toxin'': The toxin for this breed is made up of the aiczeots' spit and any type of blood. The more blood, the higher the potency. This toxin does little damage and is mostly meant to draw blood so that the aiczeots can track the targer later. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "BLIGHT">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Blight aiczeots are relatively left alone, not only because of their name but because, out of all the aiczeots, they are the most unpredictable. Blight aiczeots can be found alone or with up to two other aiczeots and have been known to travel alongside others from the same and differing breeds. They are hyper and relatively social creatures with insurmountable amounts of energy. Due to this, they are known to play with their food out of boredom, prolonging a short hunt into a much longer one. When hunting, they will strike their prey and simply wait for them to die from poisoning. Their slits are neon green with a faint trace of a stark yellow. If too much carbon dioxide enters their slits, the toxin will produce a toxic smell. *''Ability'': Toxin Maker. Can make a toxin that can be used in certain poisons. *''Toxin'': The toxin is created using the aiczeots' spit mixed with carbon dioxide. When coming in contact with specific objects, it will cause it to melt and corrode and is by far one of the strongest toxins. The blight aiczeots is also able to coat the tip of their tail with. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "CHAOS">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Chaos aiczeots, similar to their names, have dark slits that seem to be never ending, even some have said that whatever lies underneath, ripples. Though at times they can be found with other aiczeots, they are mostly solitary. They are very observant and prefer to go unnoticed. During the day they have a mild temperament but during the night, are far more active and expressive. They are the most efficient at night where they seem to practically warp the darkness around them to sneak up on their prey. Being able to accurately find, follow, and attack prey with no need to use their tongue to taste the air or ground. This has earned them the nickname the Stalker. *''Ability'': Dark Sense. With focus, can cause their victim to believe they are surrounded by nothing but darkness leaving them vulnerable to attack. *''Toxin'': The toxin is their spit, some soil and dirt, and a certain metal named almoye. It causes hallucinations similar to the aiczeots dark sense ability. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "SPIRIT">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Spirit aiczeots, also known as energy aiczeots to some, are highly social creatures to other aiczeots but dislike being around others not of their species. A strong connection is formed with those they bond with, but they will hiss and warn others to stay away. They have purple slits that glow when their toxin levels are high and will darken considerably when low. When spirit aiczeots hunt, they will seem to meditate first and choose a target, mainly those sick, injured, or young or old. Once locking on, they follow the target's emotional trail and, once upon them, will manipulate emotions to keep them calm and unaware of the danger, then leaping upon them later. Ability: Soul Awareness. Can sense strong emotions coming from individuals and when making eye contact, can manipulate those emotions to some degree. Toxin: Created by using its spit and mixing it with cosmic dust or solars, this works as a toxin to cripple targets but also increases their ability awareness. <</popover>>\ <</link>> @@.center;<h1>CLASS, WEAPONS, & ARMOR</h1>@@ There are four classes that Moran can choose from. Alongside that are three different armor classes and five different weapon types that can become available or non-available depending on the class. As the reader progress they can unlock mods that will open up different sub-classes, providing more customization. ''Snipers'' also known as a scout. Snipers are tasked with getting a lay of the land and relaying vital information to the others. *Armor: Light *Weapons: Sniper ''Specialists'' are the main fighters of a group, charging in and taking control of the situation and wasting no time to engage. *Armor: Medium or Heavy *Weapons: Rifle, Plasma, and Shotgun ''Hunters'' stay along the outskirts of the fight, finishing people off and giving relief to the specialist. They are typically the fastest and least likely to be seen. *Armor: Light or Medium *Weapons: All weapons available besides sniper. *Requirement: Agility must be at least 10 or have the blue marking. *Notes: Default hunter is Checl or Zihr. ''Engineers'' also known as infiltrator. Engineers are in charge of the tech in the field, providing backup as well as aiding in hacking all that they can. *Armor: Medium *Weapons: All weapons available besides sniper. *Requirement: Technology must be at least 10. *Notes: Default hunter is Ne0. [[Return|$return]]
<<nobr>><<set $sex to "v">><</nobr>> You have a vagina.
<<nobr>><<set $sex to "p">><</nobr>> You have a penis.
<<nobr>><<set $sex to "na">><</nobr>> You have chosen not to disclose this information.
<<nobr>><<set $chest to "p">><</nobr>> You have breasts.
<<nobr>><<set $chest to "np">><</nobr>> You do not have breasts.
<<nobr>><<set $gender to "female">><</nobr>> Female.
<<nobr>><<set $gender to "male">><</nobr>> Male.
<<nobr>><<set $gender to "nonbinary">><</nobr>> Nonbinary.
<<nobr>>\<input type="checkbox" id="fullscreen"><label for="fullscreen" class="gofullscreen"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'FullScreenGo_white.png'" alt="Go full screen" title="Go full screen" class="fullscreenImg"></label><label for="fullscreen" class="exitfullscreen"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'FullScreenExit_white.png'" alt="Exit full screen" title="Exit full screen" class="fullscreenImg"></label> <a data-passage="Compendium"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'Codex.png'" alt="Settings" title="Compendium" class="fullscreenImg" style="top: 75px; left: 250px;"></a><</nobr>>\
<a href="https://13leaguestories.tumblr.com/"><img class="img-invert" src="images/logo.png"></a>
©2023-2024 Bum Studios LLC ~~BETA 03.28.24 //Sea of Stars// contains themes and content including, but not limited to: violence, strong language, and sexual content that includes xenophilia. This story is intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.~~
<<link '<i class="fas fa-book-atlas"></i> Compendium' "Compendium">><</link>> <<link '<i class="fas fa-circle-info"></i> Credits' "Credits">><</link>>
/* Bio & Personality */ <<set $name to "Unknown">> <<set $gender to "Not Chosen"; $trans to false; $int to "unknown"; $s_att to "unknown"; $r_att to "unknown">> <<set $health to 100>> /*Once Moran reaches 10 they will be unable to do anything. If it falls to 0 then death and restart needed.*/ <<set $solars to 0>> <<set $markings to "unknown"; $hair to "unknown"; $color to "unknown"; $length to "unknown"; $beard to "unknown"; $scars to "unknown"; $tattoo to "unknown">> <<set $humor to 50; $view to 50; $open to 50; $approach to 50; $attitude to 50; $persuade to 50; $mind to 0; $gut to 0; $heart to 0>> /* Hound Info */ <<set $hound to "unknown"; $breed to "unknown">> /* Skills/Talents/Hobbies */ <<set $combat to 0; $agility to 0; $medical to 0; $tech to 0; $weapons to 0; $tact to 0; $smarts to 0>> <<set $class to "not chosen">> <<set $leader to "not chosen">> <<set $idle to "nothing"; $souvenir to "nothing">> <<set $hobby_stories to false>> /* Hidden Traits */ <<set $stealth to false>> /* Relations */ <<set $dinami to 50; $nightwalkers to 50>> <<set $unlock_zihr to false; $unlock_checl to false; $unlock_ne0 to false; $unlock_sin to false; $unlock_minute to false; $unlock_seben to false>> <<set $flirt_tser to false; $flirt_zihr to false; $flirt_checl to false; $flirt_sin to false; $flirt_minute to false; $flirt_seben to false>> /* Disposition */ <<set $tser to 50; $zihr to 50; $checl to 50; $sin to 50; $minute to 50; $seben to 50; $ne0 to 50>> /* Romance */ <<set $tserRoPo to 0; $tserRo to 50; $zihrRoPo to 0; $zihrRo to 50; $checlRoPo to 0; $checlRo to 50; $sinRoPo to 0; $sinRo to 50; $minuteRoPo to 0; $minuteRo to 50; $sebenRoPo to 0; $sebenRo to 50>> /* Loyalty */ <<set $tserLo to 5; $zihrLo to 5; $checlLo to 10; $ne0Lo to 10; $sinLo to 5; $minuteLo to 5; $sebenLo to 0>> /* Traits and Dynamics */ /* Moran's Traits */ <<set $moran_xeno to false>> /* Dante's Traits */ <<set $dante_brave to true; $dante_rebel to true>> <<set $checl_touch to true; $ne0_touch to false>> /* INVENTORY */ /* Guns */ <<set $w_primary to "Not Chosen"; $w_secondary to "Not Chosen">> /* Armor */ <<set $armor_type to "Not Chosen">> /* Misc */ /* From 1st Flashback */ <<set $promise to false>> /* Tsering on Cargo Plane Incident */ <<set $shotme to false>> /* Baits */ <<set $ticketforone to false; $scrimmagebait to false>> /* Checl's Presence */ <<set $cp to false; $checl_whereabouts to "present">> <<set $tatNe0 to false>> /* Bounty Statuses */ <<set $bounty1 to "alive">> /* Injuries */ <<set $injury_ankle to false; $injury_leg to false; $injury_arm to false>> /* Music */ <<cacheaudio "prologue1" "audio/lorem_ipsum.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "prologue2" "audio/stuck_in_the_shaft.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "sad_desert" "audio/sad_deserted.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "tension" "audio/ambient_tension.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "invasion" "audio/the_invasion.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience1" "audio/sci-fi_ambient.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience2" "audio/sky_meditation.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience3" "audio/lost_in_nowhere.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience4" "audio/cold_atmospheric.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience5" "audio/space_piano_scifi.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience6" "audio/ambient_slow_and_mysterious.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience7" "audio/universe.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "flashback1" "audio/dark_skies_above.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "flashback2" "audio/bending_gravity.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "peaceful" "audio/peaceful_background.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action1" "audio/creepy_night.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action2" "audio/release_me.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action3" "audio/horrible_breath.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action4" "audio/dramatic_life.mp3">> <<createplaylist "prologue">> <<track "prologue1" volume 0.30>> <<track "prologue2" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> <<createplaylist "ambient">> <<track "ambience1" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience2" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience3" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience4" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience5" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience6" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience7" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> <<createplaylist "flashback">> <<track "flashback1" volume 0.30>> <<track "flashback2" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> <<createplaylist "action">> <<track "action1" volume 0.30>> <<track "action2" volume 0.30>> <<track "action3" volume 0.30>> <<track "action4" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> /* Story starts here */
<img src="images/title.png" width="50%" align ="center"> @@.center; //The day they came was the day my life ended. I didn't know it at the time, nor did I know it a year or even a decade later. You envision your life going in a hundred different ways, but somehow, it's always the one way you never expected. And that's the one that gets you. I've learned a lot of lessons over time. Become lost in a cycle brought on by own hand. If I had just done this one thing or changed how I came at a problem, maybe it'd all be different. Maybe they would all still be here. Or maybe everything would've gone the exact same way. But it's too late now. I started something that I'm determined to see through to the end. I won't stop. I can't. This isn't only for me … or maybe it is. I don't know, and I find it hard to care. There are questions that need answers and lives that need avenging. This story, it has a beginning. One that I don't like thinking much about. It all feels like an excuse. But I've learned that sometimes you have to go back to finally go forward. So, this is where it starts.// <<message 'Click for Features'>>\ * Create your unique character by choosing sex, pronouns, orientation, appearance, and different attractiveness levels. * Specific traits that will change how you react to others. As well as traits that will change how specific characters see you. * Choose between 6 romances: two females, two males, and two non-binary characters. * Four different classes, along with an assortment of armor and weapons, each with its own benefits. * Determine for yourself how your path branches. Will you go down the path that leads to your own redemption and growth or stay the course? * Relive your past and how it not only led you here but how it will impact your future. <</message>>\ <hr> <table class="center"> <tr> <th><a data-passage="Credits"><img src="images/credits.png" alt="Credits"/></a></th> </tr> <tr> <th><a data-passage="Opening"><img src="images/play.png" alt="Begin Story"/></a></th> </tr> </table> @@
<<playlist "prologue" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <span class ="flashback">"Don't go!" "Take your brother. All of you head to the basement. Lock the door and don't come out until you hear me say it's safe." "Dimitri, stop! Just come on." "I'll be right back, I promise you."</span> <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> A collection of scenes that haven't been entirely constructed in the first place slowly begins to fade. It leaves behind a distraught psyche, a shivering body, and a pounding heart. As the darkness floods away, it is replaced by a hand on your shoulder. Your awareness sharpens, and as you gaze around the transport plane's large area, you again remember where you are and why. Next, your eyes focus on the figure standing directly in front of you. Words make their way out of his mouth, but the ones you hear don't match his movement. A sudden feeling of distress overcomes you, one that you have to quickly hamper as your understanding of everything settles back onto what once was a frazzled mind. //Get it together,// you think to yourself; //it's the chip's translator. Just the chip translator.// The latter part of your statement is one you must repeat over and over to further separate you from the world you once were in. Yet it feels like it does so little. Ever since you stepped on this plane, you've been battling a headache. Hearing things that aren't there, reacting to ethereal shadows that dart along the walls, and now this. This is the absolute last thing you want and/or need. It is all so strange, seeing as you had been feeling fine this morning. <a data-passage="0.0"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Stop looking at me like that, Tsering," you grumble, not even having to look up to know that your companion's gaze is still placed upon you. "Bad dream?" he questions. You throw a glance his way, using this moment to further ground yourself by focusing on the alien's appearance. Despite being one of the main species of the galaxy, there is still so little you know about his kind, <<link 'vetix'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/vetix.png" align="right" width="30%">The third most widespread species would be the vetix and, similar to terrans, have races within their species: the Voth, Askax, and Vranok. War and religious infighting plagues their history and has led to the destruction of their planet. Vetix generally stand around 5'8 (172.72 cm) to 6'6 feet (198.12 cm) and are all quite muscular. Their bodies are made up of soft reptilian-like scales and far more rigid chitin material covering their sides, back, and the upper part of their heads. Whereas their body can exist in orange, tan, brown, and black colors, their chitin markings are always dark grey, brown, or black. These markings have three different styles, which differ depending on one's race. They are primarily a monomorphic species with only head crests giving any visible sign of a difference between genders. Females' head crests lie closer to the cranium and do not travel as far as males'. They have four fingers with sharp claws and two toes at the end of each foot. Their legs have a slight digitigrade appearance, and on the back of each calf are two upturned, thick spikes. Similar curved spikes can also be found on their elbows and exist in threes. They have three slits on both sides of the neck that help with temperature regulation. Though their other senses are nowhere near lacking, the one sense that vetix are best known for is their sight. They have exceptional sight that becomes even more so in the absence of light. While many species portray their emotions differently, vetix mainly shows theirs through their eyes. When portraying moods that the individual perceives as negative, their eye color will lose saturation, while positive emotions will find the saturation growing. All races can share memories through their eyes. Intentions and prolonged eye contact are required for the action to occur.<</dialog>><</link>>. Asking is like asking some random person of your own kind, <<link 'terran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>>Terrans are a sentient, bipedal mammal race originating from the planet Terra Genesis in the Terra system. Thanks to their high fertility and quick breeding capabilities, they soon became one of the dominant species (rivaled only by the trarkrans and raza). This earned them the ire of the galaxy, but at the same time became highly favored for many tasks due to their high adaptability. Whereas other species could not do various jobs due to several things, terrans proved fairly adaptable and hardy enough to exist throughout multiple places in the galaxy. A terran's base senses are average, which is neither good nor bad compared to other species that find one sense surpassing others or all senses being sub-par at best. A terran's anatomy allows them to be fairly flexible, built mainly for endurance. Once struck by cosmicium, the terran adaptability trait evolved. Once able to simply adapt to specific circumstances, reasonable temperatures, and mild changes in the environment. Being touched by cosmicium saw their adaptability occurring at a far faster pace. Though there is still a limit to how the body will change, a terran's body and senses will evolve to better accommodate their surroundings. Hybrids, commonly known as tetigit terran, see a greater range of senses and adaptability. They also possess a range of psionic powers that range from diminutive to immense.<</dialog>><</link>>, some deep and biological question. Pointless. And you leave the conversation with less information than you had going in. So you focus on what you can see and already know. Vetix are bipedal, like most of the sentient aliens you know. Four fingers with claws on the tip, and though you don't glance down, you know he has two toes with even longer claws. A thick neck that holds a face consisting of four eyes, a relatively flat and small nose, no lips but something that slightly resemble insect mandibles, and a head crest with two down-turned horns and no hair. Though, the more you think about that specific characteristic, the more you realize that no other alien species you know, save for a handful, has hair. His skin tone is a typical brown and his dark grey chitin markings appear in a tiger design against his skin. You recall that the markings are helpful in specifying his race, but your mind is not allowing you to delve so deep. "Or great dream?" You blink as his words once again bring you back to the now. A second later, you glance back up at him, "judging by how you're staring at me." [[“You remind me there are worse things.”|0.1RemindMe][$humor +=10; $tser +=5]] <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Dream you is better.”|0.1DreamYou][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5; $humor +=10]]<<else>>[[“Dream you is better.”|0.1DreamYou][$tserRo -=5; $humor +=10]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“In your dreams.”|0.1DreamOn][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5; $humor -=10]]<<else>>[[“In your dreams.”|0.1DreamOn][$tserRo +=5; $humor -=10]]<</if>> [[“It had nothing to do with you.”|0.1NothingToDoWithYou][$tser -=5]] [[“Sorry, what were you saying?”|0.1SorryWhat][$tser +=5]] [[Ignore that.|0.1][$humor -=10; $tser -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Your appearance is grounding," you tell him, keeping your face as neutral as possible, "it reminds me that there are worse things one can be faced with." "Like an overly beautiful appearance and a radiant personality?" "Poor hygiene. Bad manners. Talkative and egotistical. A weird twitch in the left upper eye as well." Tsering snorts out a laugh, "go fuck yourself." <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> You take a moment to look him over again before smirking, "dream you was far better. Less clothes, and he was practically a mute." Tsering leans forward, his eyes glimmering furiously as their saturation increases, "if you want me quiet, all you have to do is ask." "Or command." "Or command," he repeats, the corners of his mouth rising even more. He doesn't make it hard for you to figure out what is now on his mind. <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> A chuckle escapes as you continue to focus on your breathing, "in your dreams, Tsering." "I'm sure my dreams differ greatly from yours," he grins. "Is this another vetix versus terran argument?" "No," he says, leaning closer, desire plaguing his color-shifting eyes, "this is a who wants who more argument." He straightens, "but you're not ready for that conversation. And I'm more concerned about your state of mind now." You wonder how 'concerned' he would be if you continued this line of flirting. <<include "0.1">>
"It had nothing to do with you," you inform, deciding to provide a simple answer. "Try not to hurt my feelings," he snorts, though the sound has constantly reminded you more of a growl. <<include "0.1">>
You shake your head and clear your throat, "sorry, what were you saying?" Tsering squints at you in what you can only assume must be his sense of worry, "nothing important. Are you sure you're alright?" <<include "0.1">>
Resting your head on the back of your seat, you inhale a long and deep breath, slowly releasing it while you remind yourself of the mission. //Take the package. Land. Secure the area. Exchange it. Leave.// Simple and to the point. Probably one of your easiest assignments to date. "So are you going to tell me what's up? Or do I have to continue guessing?" [[Lie.|0.1Lie][$open -=5]] [[Be honest … kinda.|0.1Vague]] [[Tell him about the flashback.|0.1Honest][$open +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "Everything's fine." You're about to add more to your lie. An excuse or something similar that you believe will cause him to believe you just a tad more, but you abandon such a thought. Going instead, with a cold and severe tone, "focus on the mission." You don't care if he believes you, just that he doesn't continue pestering you on the cause. And true to his ways, he relents. <<include "0.2">>
"Just a mild headache," you tell him, "I'll be fine." "You terrans and your headaches. Odd little creatures." He says the latter in a mockingly formal tone before snickering. You throw him a confused glare, "I could say the same about you vetix and your crest pains." "That's a much more normal ailment." "I can ask any other alien, and they'll be just as bothered as me." "Perhaps," he hums, though the sound is never like the humming you're used to. It sounds like it originates further back in the throat and, instead of reverberating, sounds like it's being swallowed. Like a predator whose patience towards their unamusing prey is meeting an end. <<include "0.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "I …" you take a moment to gather your thoughts without reliving them, "I had a flashback." "Of the racks?" he questions, switching his position to favor his left leg. "No, no, it-" you wipe an oily brow, "it was about my family. //About that day.//" "Oh," he gazes at you questionably, perhaps just as confused as you. "What caused that?" "I wish I knew. I don't remember the last time I vividly thought about them like that." He frowns but says nothing more, an action you silently thank him for. You're on a mission. The last thing you need is a distraction, especially one of this caliber. <<include "0.2">>
To further help distance yourself from the memories, you ask, "how far from the drop-off. Do you know?" "Thirty pulses or so. Shouldn't be too long now." "Where's everyone else?" <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ He snorts, "I thought you'd know. They were all gone when I came back from talking with the pilots. But I'm not complaining." Yet again his purple eyes take on a magenta hue, which mostly just means that the saturation increases even more. He leans in, trapping you in the seat while he towers over. "I can think of a few things to keep both of us occupied while we wait." <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Oh, this I gotta hear.”|0.2GottaHear][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5]]<<else>>[[“Oh, this I gotta hear.”|0.2GottaHear][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Bet mine are more interesting.”|0.2MineWin][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5]]<<else>>[[“Bet mine are more interesting.”|0.2MineWin][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5]]<</if>> [[Motion for him to step back.|0.2StepBack]] <<else>>\ He snorts, "I thought you'd know. They were all gone when I came back from talking with the pilots. You didn't hear them leave?" You shake your head and rub at your eye incessantly as if it will help erase the nightmare that lingers on the edge of your mind. The intercom hums to life. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You exchange a baffled look with Tsering and grab your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you before moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Oh, do you?" you laugh, tilting your head to your side as you continue, "please do share." "Why share when I can just show?" he questions, eliminating the distance between you just as the intercom hums to life. He hangs his head at the interruption, mumbling a few curse words. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You give Tsering a playful and teasing look before grabbing your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you and moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Oh," you smirk, "I bet you mine are more interesting." "Only one way to figure that out," he speaks and you lean in closer to whisper. "And what does the winner get?" Tsering isn't even able to open his mouth before the intercom hums to life. His eyes desaturate, now appearing a dark purple as you tilt your head back to laugh. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You give Tsering a playful and teasing look before grabbing your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you and moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You motion for him to back up and though he does so, a look of confusion causes his eyes to lose their previous saturation. You shake your head and rub at your eye incessantly as if it will help erase the nightmare that lingers on the edge of your mind. The intercom hums to life. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You exchange a baffled look with Tsering and grab your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you before moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The cold metallic walls seem to harbor some secret that it hisses obscurely to you as you pass. There is nothing but the echo of your boots, the soft purr of the engine, and those hisses. Every corner has you stiffening, your hand reflexively reaching for your gun before you chide yourself. Those flashbacks are just flashbacks. The shadows can't harm you. And yet that does not put you at ease. You look like a terrified fledgling up against Tsering's much calmer mien. He seems at home amongst the near silence of the ship. Silence. Your steps slow as you gaze in front and behind you, searching for something you know will not show. There are at least a dozen other mercenaries on this plane. So, where are they? It's not a small transport, but you should have at least seen someone by now. With less than thirty minutes to go, all of you should have met up in the cargo hold to prepare for a final debriefing and departure. Perhaps they had all been called to the comm room as well? But if that was true, why did the pilot specifically mention the two of you? Each time your mind comes up with a reason, you shoot it down, providing a valid explanation until you're left with one thought. Something is wrong. <a data-passage="0.2.2"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your hand wanders to your gun, and this time it stays there. The coupling smells of sulfur, iron, and a scent that you cannot name but has herbal properties hits your nose, and you pause, sniffing at the air. "Do you smell that?" "No," Tsering sighs, "your nose is better than mine, remember?" You ignore the irritated ring that accompanies his words and breathe in for a second time. "Blood," you mumble. Tsering's entire demeanor changes as he unholsters his pistol and creeps forward. "A silencer?" you ask as you walk beside him, "when did you start carrying one of those?" "I always carry one. Just don't use it unless we get put on an assignment like this." He frowns, "you know this. You sure you're good?" You grimace at the question and refuse to answer. The two of you turn the corner to see that your nose did not lead you astray. A cluster of bodies lay before you. Some you recognize as members of the Dinami, but most are freelance mercenaries that the Dinami had decided to bring on for reasons you aren't sure of. Perhaps to avoid the need to give them any additional information besides "shoot whatever we tell you." According to intelligence, this entire drop-off was a 'need to know.' Go to Taouron, drop off the package, and then leave. The container was so carefully put together that not even those who arranged it knew the true extent of what rested inside. Earlier, you heard a few of the mercs making bets on what they believed. Ideas range from guns to tech to poison. You wouldn't be shocked if the box was money or even empty. This entire assignment being nothing more than a test orchestrated by the Dinami. [[Pointless. If so then why are you here?|0.2Pro][$dinami +=10]] [[It wouldn't shock you at all.|0.2Anti][$dinami -=10]]
You already proved yourself when you made it off the racks. And to further that point, you had been put on three loyalty missions that you passed with flying colors. There was no reason to doubt you anymore, and you hadn't given them a reason either. Your eyes wander over to Tsering. Though he's been with the organization longer than you, he didn't hide his disdain. This could be for him, but it made little sense why you would be here. The organization had so many facets that the mercenary label is simply the only legal one to use. Only a few of you are an actual blueprint of a merc. The rest of you hold labels more akin to assassin, thief, or smuggler. Tsering, being closer to the profession of con artist. Perhaps that is why you have always had difficulty in figuring him out. What is real and what isn't is a question you've asked yourself in regards to him one too many times. But the loyalty mission angle still provided far more questions than answers. So many that it seems pointless to further think about it. They don't conduct loyalty missions like this, and the numerous bodies lying before you advance that point. <<include "0.3">>
No one, not even you or Tsering, would be shocked if this all did boil down to the Dinami testing your loyalty. They tortured you in every means of the word, and once broken, they placed you back on the rack and furthered their work. Long before this, you believed you knew what pain was. You weren't exactly wrong, but learning that there were different kinds of pain you have yet to experience dampened an already scant soul. You once thought it was pure luck that helped you get this far. Soon after, you realized it was never fate looking down upon you with care. You weren't that lucky. You were more like the universe's plaything. When fate or whatever divine, unholy providence wished to rest its gaze on you, it was simply because it was bored and chose you as its quarry. Your eyes wander over to Tsering. Though he's been with the organization longer than you, he didn't hide his disdain for it either. You can just as easily see this being for him. But you also have doubts. They don't conduct loyalty missions like this, and the numerous bodies lying before you advance that point. <<include "0.3">>
The Dinami has as many traitors and enemies within its ranks as outside. Only a few operators knew about this, and since the entire group wasn't Dinami exclusively, it narrows down the list to at least six people, some of whom may be dead. But making such an accusation is unwise, not until you get enough evidence to back it up. Otherwise, you'll be the main suspect. "Comms are down," Tsering tells you, pressing a few buttons at the large panel resting against the wall. He mumbles something unintelligible when only red lights flash back at him. "The chip's channels included." [[“Have you tried smacking it?”|0.3SmackIt][$humor +=5]] [[“Let me see.”|0.3LetMeSee][$tech +=5]] [[Attempt to use your chip's comms.|0.3ChipComm][$humor -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "You've tried smacking it a few times, right?" "Why is that always your suggestion? This is not your primitive terran technology." "You say that, but I smacked the comm panel back at the safe house, and it stopped flickering." He turns to say more when the sound of something jostling against metal grabs both of your attention. You shift your focus to a nearby closet, and you both exchange nods at the silent and decisive plan. You then approach with pistols at the ready. <<include "0.3.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Technology ++</span><</if>> "Let me see," you take only a step before the sound of something jostling against metal grabs both of your attention. You shift your focus to a nearby closet, and you both exchange nods at the silent and decisive plan. You then approach with pistols at the ready. <<include "0.3.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> You bring up your chip's hud, about to access the communicator to see for yourself. "Yes, because your chip will show you something different," Tsering sighs. You are unable to respond due to the sound of something jostling against metal. The sound originates from a nearby close, and after sparing one look at Tsering, you then approach with pistols at the ready. <<include "0.3.1">>
Tsering opens it, moving to the side for a better view just as a shaph screams. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" they yell, throwing their hands up as they gaze between you and Tsering. <span class="chip">>Species: Shaph Origins: Gnodanides Usually standing anywhere from 5'7" to 6'2" (170.18 to 187.96 cm) and weighing between 200 to 300 pounds (90 to 136kg), most of their weight is attributed to well-defined muscles. They possess four arms with four thick fingers on each, one of those fingers being an opposable thumb. Their skin is made of coarse material that many compare to the feeling of wood. The shaph is one of the few races with no external characteristic differences between the three sexes that make up the species. The species possess the ability to enter a camouflage mode, similar to that of a chameleon. While in this mode, they secrete a toxic thin smoke, lethal to some species. Though not harmful to the shaph -</span> You swat the information away with a sigh, "why am I suddenly getting readouts on shit I already know?" "Software update? A glitch? System malfunction? Take your pick," Tsering answers, lowering his gun, "matches how the rest of this day is going so far. And you." He points to the <<link 'shaph'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/shaph.png" align="right" width="30%">The shaph is a bipedal creature that possess four arms of the same length with four thick fingers on each, one of those fingers holding an opposable thumb. They are flat-footed with feet possessing four toes. They are a muscular and bulky species, weighing anything between 200 to 300 pounds (90 to 136kg) though this number has been known to be higher. Their skin is made up of coarse material that many compare to the feeling of wood and has a texture similar to the plants from their homeworld, Stronoe. A Shaph's skin is smooth but thick, providing natural armor but also skin that takes an exceedingly long time to adjust to new temperatures. The ideal temperature is between 70°F/20°C and 80°F/26°C. An individual can live in temperatures higher and lower but will find themselves extremely uncomfortable and find it hard to function for a few months until they are adjusted. The wider the gap, the longer it will take for a Shaph to adjust. Due to this, most Shaphs will stay in familiar biomes or will need to wear protective suits to combat the temperature shifts. A Shaph's blood is black, similar in color to the nitrogen oxide gas that they can naturally emit. As many species see and experience it, the shaph do not have binary sexes but trinary. All three sexes are needed to properly "give birth." Each shaph is born with one of three different facial markings which act as the only visual identifier to an individual's sex. Shaph is a genderless race and do not recognize the use of pronouns. Instead they simply use their names.<</dialog>><</link>>, examining them with a look of aversion, "you're either incredibly stupid or one of the smartest people I've met so far." Realizing that neither of you will kill them, the shaph lowers their arms and awkwardly leaves the closet, "because I hid?" "No," you sigh, looking them over, "because if you're the killer, then hiding was a strategic move. Presenting yourself as innocent to whoever came looking." "I assure you, I //am// innocent." "We know," Tsering answers, nodding toward the deceased, "whoever shot them did so at a significantly close range. If you were the culprit, you'd have some blood on you somewhere." [[“Could have cleaned it up.”|0.3CleanedUp][$mind +=2]] [[“Are you alright?”|0.3AreYouAlright][$heart +=2]] [[“That scream was pretty convincing.”|0.3ThatScream][$gut +=2]] [[Examine the bodies.|0.3Examine]]
You look at the shaph in an attempt to find even a dash of discoloration against their sandy skin. "Or, they could have just cleaned it up before we got here. We don't know how long these bodies have been lying here." "We have a rough estimate," Tsering points out, not bothering to face you as he explains, "you were already in your own mind when I went to the pilots for an ETA, and everyone was still in the hold with you. That took about five pulses, so roughly that puts these bodies at least fifteen pulses old." "Or you can just ask me." The two of you gaze over at the wide-eyed alien, but you say nothing in response. You approach Tsering who wears a deep frown, his purple eyes losing saturation as he studies the numerous bodies before you. Your eyes narrow as you make your deduction, "I count eight. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
You look the shaph over, noticing how visibly shaken they are. Dropping to one knee to be on their level, you ask, "are you alright?" "Am I bleeding?" they question, eyes wide as they look themselves over. "No, you're just visibly shaken." "Skittish for a freelancer," Tsering says, gazing the shaph over in antipathy. "You go from speaking to comrades to getting shot at," you state as you get to your feet, "are you telling me you wouldn't?" "Occupational hazard," he mumbles. You follow his gaze to the bodies decorating the proximity, and your eyes narrow as you make your deduction. "I count eight. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
"Not to mention that scream of yours was fairly convincing as well. Judging by how you carry yourself, you wouldn't have lasted a week on the rack, meaning you're not Dinami." "Observant," Tsering compliments, clicking his tongue, "doesn't get us anywhere. Not all the freelancers may be as skittish as them." "True. But at least I know I don't have to keep looking over my shoulder at this one." You approach Tsering who wears a deep frown, his purple eyes losing saturation as he studies the numerous bodies before you. Your eyes narrow as you make your deduction, "I count eight. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
Bending down near the nearest body, you examine them and find only one entry wound. Checking another, you find a similar scenario. "Eight bodies. Whoever did this is precise and skilled." "So one of the actual Dinami?" Jabbing your finger in the direction of the shaph, you ask, "you think someone like them could pull this off?" "Not them exactly. But we don't know what these other freelancers can do." You sigh, your eyes going to the bodies as you make your deduction, "eight bodies. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
"What makes us think the killer isn't one of these bodies?" Tsering asks after a few seconds of contemplation. There is no reason for you not to believe such a thing, especially with how the bodies are arranged. It would take someone reasonably skilled to shoot these bodies and then get away. But if they were Dinami, it was more than a slight possibility. "Nothing," you answer, "it could very well be true. But better to stay alert." "What should we do?" the shaph questions, still panicking. The gun rattling in their grasp constantly bumps against a metal pillar, creating an irritable noise worthy of punching someone. They behave as if they have never been in a high-stressed environment before. "Don't," Tsering mumbles, glancing at you before directing his head towards the mercenary, "we might need them as bait." [[“Warn the pilots.”|0.4Mind][$mind +=5]] [[“Get to the cargo hold.”|0.4Gut][$gut +=5]] [[“We go find them.”|0.4Heart][$heart +=5]]
"We warn the pilots. The comms are down for us, but they'll probably be able to send off a message." "Send it using the abacus," the shaph suggests, and though you're ready to provide them with an answer, Tsering beats you to it. "We don't have a one-way channel with them. We warn them, and we're warning the possibly still alive killer, wherever they are. How about you leave the suggestions to us, okay? Just stand there and try not to shoot yourself in the foot." You add in, "he's right. We head to the cargo bay. There's an intercom that links directly to the cockpit." Tsering nods his head in agreement, and you're about to see if the shaph understands the plan but find yourself with a lack of care. They will simply slow you down; at that moment, you need to focus on every shift in your environment. <<include "0.5">>
"We head to the cargo hold. It contains one entryway, and it's probably the killer's goal. They'll come to us." Tsering nods his head in agreement, and you're about to see if the shaph understands the plan but find yourself with a lack of care. They will simply slow you down; at that moment, you need to focus on every shift in your environment. <<include "0.5">>
"We find them before they find us. If the killer is Dinami then we're not just dealing with someone who doesn't know what they're doing. They'll know this ship and our movements." "Agreed. We should probably check on the cargo first then, as that would be the killer's goal," Tsering suggests. You nod, about to see if the shaph understands the plan, but find yourself with a lack of care. He will simply slow you down and at that moment you need to be focused on every shift in your environment. <<include "0.5">>
With nothing more to discuss, the three of you head to the cargo hold. The walls seem like they breathe easier now that their secret has been uncovered, but you almost wish they had remained talkative. It would at least provide some much-needed ambiance to an otherwise quiet walk. The ship careens to the side, and the three of you slide, slamming into the wall as it evens itself out. You earn nothing more than a painful headache that may transform itself into a knot, but that is something you are prepared to deal with. Later means life. <a data-passage="0.5.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The trip back holds no further excitement, though your racing heart would probably disagree with that fact. Entering the bay, movement grabs your attention. "Stop!" they shout, raising their gun as the three of you raise yours. Seeing that they're outnumbered, they take cover behind the package. "Get your ass out here!" Tsering shouts. Whoever it is doesn't respond, and there's a moment of silence before you finally see their hands raised in surrender. "Tsering?" He doesn't lower his gun but he does frown, "do I know you?" "Probably not," the alien in question sighs, standing at full height as they place their gun on the box and put their hands back up. They glance at you and nod, "but I know both of you. I'm not your target." "And we're supposed to believe that?" "I'm Dinami," they argue, and though the shaph lowers their gun, you and Tsering do no such thing. "Look, my heart is beating faster than ever. I just want off this damn plane. I didn't sign up to have guns pointed at me, so would you mind pointing them at any other fucking thing?" [[“You signed up for worse than this.”|0.5WorseThanThis]] [[“Why are you here?”|0.5WhyYouHere]] [[“Did you see anyone?”|0.5SeeAnyone]] [[“We need to contact the pilots.”|0.5ContactPilots]]
"That statement makes no sense," you growl, not an inch of trust in your tone, "if you're Dinami, then you signed up for way worse than this. You probably even have a few gun wounds." They snarl, "no one signs up to run with the Dinami?" You hate to admit it but they have a point. It doesn't make their latter sentence make anymore sense than before, but you can forgive one stupid statement for a truthful one. <<include "0.6">>
"Why are you here?" you ask, doing nothing to disguise the suspicion in your voice. "Same thing I can ask you." "I'm not the killer." "Or so you say. You don't believe me. I don't believe you. But I put my gun down nevertheless." "Your idiocy doesn't extend to us," Tsering mumbles, glancing over at the shaph, "or some of us at least." <<include "0.6">>
"Did you see anyone on your way here?" "If you're asking if I came across any more bodies, then yes. I saw a group scattered in one of the halls. I realized what was happening and came here. Figured there's one way in, and this is the only thing of value on this damn plane, so I have the advantage. Funny, that the three of you came walking in." "Yet none of us are laughing," you mumble. "I find it hilarious. My chest hurts from laughing so hard," Tsering adds in but you ignore him. <<include "0.6">>
"Your wish to get off this plane may not come soon. We need to contact the pilots and tell them to turn around." "Already did." "That bit of turbulence was your doing?" Tsering asks. "Yea. Already on the route back. Comms are down." "We know," you mumble. <<include "0.6">>
You signal the Dinami-claimed alien to move away, and they do so. Taking a quick look at the shipment, you find it still in one piece, but that does little to assure you of this newcomer's innocence. You lay out what you know. As far as you can see, there are four possible killers. Three of them standing in this room, and the fourth is an unknown integer still roaming the ship or possibly being one of the two pilots. Tsering is a good shot, probably one of the best. The motive is incredibly weak, but the skill matches the damage. The shaph, like Tsering said before, can either be an idiot or the most brilliant person either of you have met. Their actions say one thing, but you don't know them and what they're capable of. The last claims to be Dinami and to know both of you. That means the skill set and motive are both possibilities. And then there is the fourth option. If that's the case, all of you staying here is idiotic, especially when the killer can target the pilots or be them. Your frown deepens. Why come here when you can just hijack the plane and fly it somewhere else, dealing with all those inside when you land? "Someone should go check on the pilots," you propose. "We shouldn't be concerned about them," you hear Tsering say, "we have bigger issues." "Like -" you begin just as a gunshot echoes through the hold. You instinctively grab your gun and aim it towards … [[The shaph.|0.6Shaph]] [[The Dinami alien.|0.6DinamiAlien]] [[Tsering.|0.6Tsering]] [[No one.|0.6None]]
You aim your gun towards the shaph, only to find two guns now aimed towards you while the Dinami-claimed alien lies dead on the ground. <<include "0.7">>
You aim your gun towards the Dinami-claimed alien, only to find two guns now aimed towards you and the one you thought to be the culprit, lying dead on the ground. <<include "0.7">>
You aim your gun towards Tsering, finding both his and the shaph's pointed at you. The Dinami-claimed alien lie in a pool of their own blood, mirroring the look of so many others. <<include "0.7">>
You turn towards the three, maintaining an air of calmness as you tell yourself that those shots were fired at the fourth culprit. You're not sure if you're simply disappointed or tired when you find two guns trained on you while the Dinami-claimed alien lies dead on the ground. <<include "0.7">>
Pushing away a dozen questions that infiltrate your thoughts, you focus on keeping your composure and getting out of this precarious situation. Tsering and the shaph gaze upon you as if your future is inevitable. And you realize how right they are when the cargo bay doors open behind you. Your heart thunders to a beat of its own choosing. <<if hasVisited("0.6Tsering")>>\ "Shoot me, I dare you," Tsering snorts, and you pull the trigger, not the least bit shocked when nothing happens. "Out of ammo, huh?" he chuckles and shows you a magazine, "that nap of yours had to be nice." It was your fault for not checking beforehand, but you didn't think much of it. Why would you? //Why wouldn't you?// A voice deep within scolds. <<elseif hasVisited("0.6Shaph")>>\ "What gave me away?" the shaph chuckles, shedding the demeanor you had grown used to seeing them personate. "Mostly doubt. And the odds of the Dinami hiring on a dumbass mercenary afraid of their own shadow. Your acting was nice, but in the end, you leaned into the helpless and stupid act just a bit too much." "Smart. That kind of questioning would have been useful ten pulses ago." "I didn't really factor in you having help." Your eyes shift to Tsering, and though his aim does not waver, his gaze does. <<else>>\ "I figured you had better deduction skills," Tsering comments, frowning. "Let's call it giving others the benefit of the doubt." Your snarky words do nothing to close the pit forming deep within. He isn't entirely correct. You did deduce the possibility of it being one of them. You just really hoped it wasn't. <</if>>\ Tsering looks to his compatriot, "I got this. Go make sure the pilot has everything in control." They lower their own weapon and grab the deceased alien, dragging it to the end of the ramp before kicking them off. "Shocking, huh?" Tsering asks, your attention moving back to him. [[“More so disappointed.”|0.7Disappointed][$tser -=10]] [[“This is the best you got?”|0.7BestYouGot][$tser -=5]] [[“So what now?”|0.7WhatNow][$tser +=10]] [[“I'm so foolish.”|0.7MyFault][$tser +=5]] [[Say nothing.|0.7SayNothing]]
"Less shocked and more disappointed." "Yea, I can see how this could all be very frustrating." "Don't give yourself that much credit. I was talking about being disappointed in myself. You're just an afterthought." Tsering frowns, displeased by your words. Perhaps he had believed you would praise him or give him some form of credit. This does not shock you. It wasn't the first time he sought out your approval. <<include "0.8">>
"Gotta say, I'm extremely disappointed in you." "Aw, don't take it that hard. I betrayed everyone," he motions to your surroundings, and you raise a brow. "No, idiot. Not because of that, but because you waited this long. You've had tons of moments to kill me, and you've waited until now. For what? To have a big and dramatic reveal? Sloppy and amateurish." "Your problem is thinking that this is about you. Bad timing and placement." Part of you wishes to rage more. To be reduced to simply another casualty is embarrassing enough but by Tsering of all people?! The alien practically begs for your approval most days. <<include "0.8">>
"So what now? You kick me off this plane? What will you tell the Dinami when they ask what happened here? That's if you're crazy enough to go back to them. Which, judging by all of this, you are." "You're getting a little too far ahead. I thought first we may try and clear the air. Get any last-minute grievances or confessions off our chest. Wouldn't want you going to that afterlife of yours with a heavy heart." "We can skip that. I find myself struggling to give a fuck about anything you have to say." <<include "0.8">>
You shake your head, still trying to figure out where you allowed your defenses to slip and let this happen. Countless times you've told yourself to keep your walls up, and still, they fell. And so here you stand. "How could I be so stupid? Fool me once," you mumble, not finishing the phrase but knowing it all too well. <<include "0.8">>
"Aw, come on, not the silent treatment. It's boring. Anticlimactic. Not really fitting the end for someone like you. What happened to all of those 'any last words' moments?" "Those are movies, not reality," you say plainly. But you sorely wish this was a movie. At least then the next few moments would just be a scene, and not your actual end. <<include "0.8">>
"You know, call me foolish, but I pictured this playing out a lot differently in my head. Little ol' me taking out a hit-person of your caliber." "Getting ahead of yourself there, don't you think?" He gazes past you and towards the lowered cargo bay ramp, "no, I don't think I am." You have little else stored in your bag of tricks. Even worse, the few things that can be found within are things that Tsering probably expects you to do. The thought twists your stomach and causes a peculiar kind of bile to begin its ascent up your throat. He takes a step closer to you, his alien frame dwarfing yours. <<if hasVisited("0.1DreamYou") or hasVisited("0.1DreamOn")>>\ Observing you, his demeanor shifts. Shoulders slouch and his eyes lose their saturation as they grow despondent. "Whether you believe it or not, I did respect you, and if it was up to me, you would've never been on this plane. Maybe … in another life, perhaps you and I -" [[Choose your own destiny.|0.8Destiny]] [[Try to get one last hit in.|0.8Attack]] [[Make him a promise.|0.8None]] <<else>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $injury_leg to true; $shotme to true>><</nobr>>\ "Whether you believe it or not, I did respect you," Tsering begins, shrugging his shoulders and then firing his gun at your leg. You hiss in pain as you drop down, sliding down the ramp until only your grip is saving you from falling. "<<if $tser >=50>>And I do regret having to do this, to you, of all people." But he does it anyway. He grabs your wrist and raises it so your grip is now nonexistent. And just like that, he releases you <<else>>But I also can't stand you sometimes." He steps on your hand,<</if>> and you watch as his figure gets farther and farther away. <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if hasVisited("0.1DreamYou") or hasVisited("0.1DreamOn")>>\ He's unable to finish his sentence due to the shock that renders him frozen. Your lips meet his mouth as you steal a kiss, pulling back before you can deepen something that you realize you've wanted. He leans forward to continue the action and you let out a weak, humorous snort, "you should be so lucky." The following action requires less thought than you initially presumed. In a single breath, you're leaning back, watching as Tsering lunges forward to catch you before realizing that said thing is impossible and that this is what he wanted. <<else>>\ He's unable to finish his sentence, or at least that's what it sounds like. One minute you hear Tsering's voice, and the next, there is nothing but the wind rushing past you in a single breath as you lean back. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("0.1DreamYou") or hasVisited("0.1DreamOn")>>\ You don't allow him to finish the sentence, lunging forward to get one last hit in. It doesn't matter if the jab leaves a mark or even hurts him. None of that matters. Tsering sees the attack, but that doesn't mean he's fast enough to avoid it. Your punch lands below his first row of eyes, and he hisses as he takes a step back. You prepare to deliver another when he catches your arm and brings you close, restraining you from taking any more aggressive action. He regards you in pity and you glare at him in hatred. A hatred that he clearly sees and accepts. He whispers the words so close to your lips, "goodbye." He releases you, and though you knew this was coming, you still have the gall to be shocked. <<else>>\ You don't allow him to finish the sentence, lunging forward to get one last hit in. It doesn't matter if the jab leaves a mark or even hurts him. None of that matters. Tsering sees the attack, but that doesn't mean he's fast enough to avoid it. Your punch lands below his first row of eyes, and he hisses as he takes a step back. You prepare to deliver another when he catches your arm and brings you close, restraining you from taking any more aggressive action. He releases a sigh that borders on irritability and humor and then pushes you backward. You knew this was coming, and yet you still manage to emerge shocked. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("0.1DreamYou") or hasVisited("0.1DreamOn")>>\ "You listen to me," you growl, grabbing his arm to steady yourself and gain every inch of his attention. "If I ever see you again, you'll pay for all this. I don't know why you did this, and I don't care. I just know that you better pray this fall kills me." He grows downcast, eyes losing so much saturation you believe they'll turn gray at any moment. He closes his eyes for a second before nodding and whispering the words, "I look forward to it." He snatches his arm back, and though you had expected this, it still takes you by surprise. <<else>>\ You neither interrupt him nor act against him. Mostly, you just close your mind to what's about to happen. And even as you do this, you still emerge shocked when nothing is beneath your feet. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<set $health to 20>> <<playlist "prologue" fadeout>> <<audio "sad_desert" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ You and the spirits of death are acquaintances of a unique nature. You have faced them many times and never on the same battlefield twice. They provide an ear to a voice suppressed by its own actions as you provide it a great deal of mirth for being so stubborn. To know a song is old and bromidic, riddled with gaps and breaks on a level that feels almost comedic, but still sing it seems a contradiction all its own. But the death spirits don't mind. And when you finally turn to leave their side, they don't rise to chase after you. This meeting will be had again. But it will be a new battlefield, a new situation, and yet and still the same old ballad. The time fast approaches, and there's little you can do but brace. Fragile eyes that struggle to open finally do so, and you regret it. The sun rests directly over you, determined to bake you with a cruelty that feels unwarranted. Moving drains energy that you don't have, but you're alive. You snort, letting your head fall to the side as you stare at the phantasmic figure that sits beside you idly. They seem to gaze out over a landscape you're unable to describe, and though they say nothing aloud, you believe you know what they think. //Never the same field.// "This is getting old," you cough out. The spirit, in their fashion, remains quiet. [[“You lose, again.”|0.9LoseAgain]] [[“I think ... I think you may finally win.”|0.9WinThisOne]] [[“Please.”|0.9Please]]
"Why even continue to show?" The words are thought but not said, purely due to the pain that your previous sentence causes. You gasp the words out, "you always lose." The desert wind takes these words from you, mixing them with the fleeing sand and pushing them across the desolate landscape. The spirit no longer sits beside you. <<include "0.10">>
"I ..." your breath escapes you in short bursts, and you must take a few careful deep breaths before continuing. "I think you may with this one." The words almost cause you to laugh. After all this back and forth, they'll finally win. It'll win the one battle that actually was worth a damn. "Finally, huh?" The desert wind takes these words from you, mixing them with the fleeing sand and pushing them across the desolate landscape. The spirit no longer sits beside you. <<include "0.10">>
"Please," you whisper to your silent foe. In truth, this life has long ago become tiring. There had been so many times when the spirit should've won, and the more you think about it, the more you wonder if you wished for it, too. You repeat the plea, but the desert wind takes these words from you, mixing them with the fleeing sand and pushing them across the desolate landscape. The spirit no longer sits beside you. <<include "0.10">>
You shuffle around, pushing past the blinding pain, hoping to get even the slightest glimpse of your surroundings. The pain eclipses both thought and vision, but as parts of it fade, you can make out large and jagged mountains sitting amongst a desert steppe landscape. You attempt to relax, whimpering as a jolt of pain seizes your <<if $injury_leg>>leg, neck, and the upper part of your spine. He shot you. He fucking shot you. For some odd reason, that aspect seems to piss you off more than being ejected from a cargo plane.<<else>>neck and the upper part of your spine.<</if>> <span class="chip">>System failure. Backup emergency functions online. Attempting system reboot.</span> Despite the pessimistic nature of the alert, it at least fills you with some kind of hope to know that the chip's emergency shields are probably what saved your life. And to think, you were about to pass up that upgrade. Though, parts of you doubt if it will matter that much. Your side feels like it's on fire. <span class="chip">>System reboot fail. Manual reset of all functions and systems required.</span> The device goes through a couple more warnings and then, after giving it permission, goes quiet. You find yourself missing the sound of the computerized voice in your head. You can't recall a time when you experienced a system failure, but with that being said, you've also never been ejected from a transport plane. It seems like today has just been filled with new experiences. Soon, the pain morphs into numbness like it usually does. In a few hours, however gruesome and severe, your injuries will begin to heal, and you'll be able to stand. Tsering knew of this; you've been in too many scrapes for him not to. Not to mention that it has been the subject of conversation many times. He probably hoped that the fall would kill you on impact. <<if $injury_leg>>Checking your body, you not only have the leg wound but also a wound on your side.<<else>>Checking your body, you find a wound in your side, a bloody, once jagged rock telling you that it is the culprit.<</if>> You will pass out soon from blood loss. That is a fact. Furthermore, the tiniest shift could have taken fate by the neck and squeezed it hard enough for all of this to be different. For you to be lying here and that phantasm, the final victor. <a data-passage="0.10.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class="chip">>Reboot complete. Please standby.</span> A few minutes later, your implant says, <span class="chip">>Data corruption detected. Factory systems restored. Further configuration is requested.</span> You roll your eyes. Nearly dead in some wasteland, and this is what your next few moments will be made up of. Reconfiguring your damn <<link 'abacus'>><<dialog 'Codex - Technology'>>An ''abacus'' is a small triangular-shaped implant device worn by the various sentient creatures of the galaxy. The abacus, also referred to as the Ab, is a super-intelligence data processing chip that aids the individual wearer in multiple ways. There are a few different types, each with its own unique upgrades. The simplest functions include simultaneous and near-accurate language translators, holding vital and personal information, and communication. While the more complicated functions include advanced problem-solving, hacking, shield generation, etc. The implant can typically be found lying against the skin and, with camouflaging programming, blends in with the user's skin. Some actually get the chip installed into their pupil reticles or mouth. When registered, the implant reacts to the individual's voice, and unless a specific version or is hacked and restarted to factory settings, it will not be able to re-adapt to another host.<</dialog>><</link>>. You wouldn't be surprised if this is all due to Tsering too. You'd never say it to his face, but he was thorough. Or maybe you would ... just so he'll die with whatever facial expression he makes from hearing you praise him one last time. It chirps as if to agree with your thoughts. <span class="chip">>State full name for voice identifier.</span> [[Orson Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Orson"]] [[Demetrius Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Demetrius"]] [[Kenzo Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Kenzo"]] [[Andressa Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Andressa"]] [[Dhuriya Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Dhuriya"]] [[Katherine Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Katherine"]] [[Estes Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Estes"]] [[Frances Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Frances"]] [[Raquel Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Raquel"]] [[Calypso Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Calypso"]] [[Atlas Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Atlas"]] [[Vega Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Vega"]] [[Type your name.|InsertName]]
The last time you did this, the chip had you repeat your name twice and still, it got it wrong. A lesson learned: it is much easier to just type such a thing out. <<textbox "$name" "" autofocus>><<button "Enter">><<replace "#name">>Nice to meet you, $name Moran.<</replace>><</button>> <span id="name"></span> <a data-passage="Pronouns"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"$name Moran," you repeat clearly for the implant, trying and failing to hold in a cough. Sighing, you rotate your neck and shoulders, and though you feel no pain, you make not of how stupid that action is. Everything is numb but that doesn't mean you're not messing anything up. You need to relax. If you die here then you die here, but there's no need to make this worse than what it already is. <span class="chip">>Log chosen pronouns.</span> <<link 'State your pronouns.'>> <<pronouns>> <</link>> <a data-passage="Gender"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class="chip">>Log chosen gender specifications.</span> <<set _gender = ["Female", "Male", "Nonbinary"]>>''Select gender:'' <<listbox "$gender">> <<optionsfrom _gender>> <</listbox>> ''Gender:'' <span id="gender-info">(nothing)</span><<script>> $(document).one(":passagerender", function (event) { /* Initial display of text pulled from the "Gender Info X" passages. */ $(event.content).find("#gender-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Gender Info " + State.variables.gender + "'>>"); /* Trigger text display upon listbox change. */ $(event.content).find("#listbox-gender").on("change", function (event) { /* Fade out text. */ $("#gender-info").fadeOut(500, function () { /* Update text and then fade it back in. */ $("#gender-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Gender Info " + State.variables.gender + "'>>").fadeIn(500); }); }); }); <</script>> <a data-passage="Trans"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
And I am ... [[Trans|Sex][$trans to true]] [[Cis|Sex]]
<span class="chip">>Log chosen body preferences.</span> <<set _sex = ["No Disclose", "Vagina", "Penis"]>>''Select sex:'' <<listbox "$sex">> <<optionsfrom _sex>> <</listbox>> ''Sex:'' <span id="sex-info">(nothing)</span><<script>> $(document).one(":passagerender", function (event) { /* Initial display of text pulled from the "Sex Info X" passages. */ $(event.content).find("#sex-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Sex Info " + State.variables.sex + "'>>"); /* Trigger text display upon listbox change. */ $(event.content).find("#listbox-sex").on("change", function (event) { /* Fade out text. */ $("#sex-info").fadeOut(500, function () { /* Update text and then fade it back in. */ $("#sex-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Sex Info " + State.variables.sex + "'>>").fadeIn(500); }); }); }); <</script>> <<set _chest = ["Breasts Present", "Breasts Not Present"]>>''Select chest:'' <<listbox "$chest">> <<optionsfrom _chest>> <</listbox>> ''Chest:'' <span id="chest-info">(nothing)</span><<script>> $(document).one(":passagerender", function (event) { /* Initial display of text pulled from the "Chest Info X" passages. */ $(event.content).find("#chest-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Chest Info " + State.variables.chest + "'>>"); /* Trigger text display upon listbox change. */ $(event.content).find("#listbox-chest").on("change", function (event) { /* Fade out text. */ $("#chest-info").fadeOut(500, function () { /* Update text and then fade it back in. */ $("#chest-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Chest Info " + State.variables.chest + "'>>").fadeIn(500); }); }); }); <</script>> <a data-passage="Appearance"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Due to the cybernetic functions in the chip, speaking for anything other than voice identification isn't required. You think and confirm; thus, the chip logs it in the memory banks. You're sure it has something to do with brainwaves and a whole bunch of other scientific crap, but you've never actually sat down to look into it. Always had far greater things to take up your time. <span class="chip">>Verifying. Performing facial and voice recognition, fingerprinting, sampling DNA — error. Foreign DNA detected. Species not found in any available databases. Classification needed.</span> "Just label me under terran, you stupid chip," you say breathlessly, not knowing why you said that when you've already had this argument. It's an argument that you never win. Everything feels like it's beginning to slow down. <span class="chip">>Classification: Terran. Request denied. Classification needed.</span> "Hybrid. Tetigit ... Terran." <span class="chip">>Classification: Tetigit Terran. Request approved. Data still missing. Further information is needed but not required.</span> <a data-passage="0.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
//Of course it is//, you think to yourself. Nothing has changed in your physical status. The pain is still numbed, and breathing is not as laborious as before. The chances of you passing out is still more of a fact and less of a possibility. So, why not? Why not fill in all the needed information now? You certainly don't have anything better to do. The next few prompts that appear all have to do with you personally, confirming all of the things that the chip has hypothesized upon sampling your DNA. //Note: Your eye color is the same as your markings. This does effect some stats (See [[Stat Guide|StatGuide]] for more information) and means that the choices are limited. You can also gain scars over time; the choice below will not affect that; it will only change how many you have currently.// ''Eye Color'' <<if ndef $markings>><<set $markings = "red">><</if>><<listbox "$markings">> <<option "Red" "red" `$markings == "red" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Purple" "purple" `$markings == "purple" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Gold" "gold" `$markings == "gold" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Green" "green" `$markings == "green" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Blue" "blue" `$markings == "blue" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Length of Hair'' <<if ndef $length>><<set $length = "bald">><</if>><<listbox "$length">> <<option "Bald" "bald" `$length == "bald" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Short" "short" `$length == "short" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Medium" "medium" `$length == "medium" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Long" "long" `$length == "long" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Type of Hair'' <<if ndef $hair>><<set $hair = "straight">><</if>><<listbox "$hair">> <<option "Straight" "straight" `$hair == "straight" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Curly" "curly" `$hair == "curly" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Wavy" "wavy" `$hair == "wavy" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Kinky" "kinky" `$hair == "kinky" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Braids" "braids" `$hair == "braids" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Dreads" "dreads" `$hair == "dreads" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Color of Hair'' <<if ndef $color>><<set $color = "black">><</if>><<listbox "$color">> <<option "Shades of black" "black" `$color == "black" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of brown" "brown" `$color == "brown" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of red/ginger" "red" `$color == "red" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of blonde" "blonde" `$color == "blonde" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of white/silver" "white" `$color == "white" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of purple" "purple" `$color == "purple" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of blue" "blue" `$color == "blue" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of green" "green" `$color == "green" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of pink" "pink" `$color == "pink" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Beard Length'' <<if ndef $beard>><<set $beard = "short">><</if>><<listbox "$beard">> <<option "Cannot grow beard" "none" `$beard == "none" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "No beard" "nb" `$beard == "nb" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Short" "short" `$beard == "short" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Medium" "medium" `$beard == "medium" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Long" "long" `$beard == "long" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Number of Tattoos'' <<if ndef $tattoo>><<set $tattoo = "none">><</if>><<listbox "$tattoo">> <<option "None" "none" `$tattoo == "none" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Few" "few" `$tattoo == "few" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Several" "several" `$tattoo == "several" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Scars'' <<if ndef $scars>><<set $scars = "none">><</if>><<listbox "$scars">> <<option "None" "none" `$scars == "none" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Few" "few" `$scars == "few" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Several" "several" `$scars == "several" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> <a data-passage="0.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $markings is "red">> <<set $health +=10>> <<elseif $markings is "green">> <<set $agility +=10>> <<elseif $markings is "purple">> <<set $armor +=10>> <<elseif $markings is "blue">> <<set $stealth to true>> <<else>>\ <</if>> <</nobr>>\ <span class="chip">>Systems online and functional. Greetings, $name Moran. Abacus is a super intelligence data processing implant to aid you throughout your travels. Abacus, at its essential core, will track your vitals and provide language translation. Would you like a tutorial? There is -</span> "Skip," you moan, far too irked by everything to simply think the word. <span class="chip">>Skipping tutorial. You can now access and build your database.</span> "Locate upgrades." <span class="chip">>Locating upgrades and mods ... search completed. You have no upgrades or mods.</span> You let out a low growl, so the reboot also disregarded your upgrades. Someone else did this. Someone working with Tsering but not Tsering himself; he isn't that knowledgeable about tech. [[“Contact the closest emergency service.”|0.12ClosestEmergency][$gut +=2]] [[“Give me my location.”|0.12Location][$mind +=2]] [[“Contact Port 52.Crion.”|0.12Port][$heart +=2]]
"Contact the nearest emergency service." <span class="chip">>Command in progress. Failure. Area communications block in place.</span> You had believed that contacting the Dinami was a fruitless venture, but you at least thought calling the local services would help. Though, depending on where you are, you can probably answer the question as to why. "Fine. Location?" <<include "0.13">>
"Location?" <<include "0.13">>
It's a long shot, and you are almost sure it will fail, but an attempt is an attempt. "Contact Port 52.Crion." <span class="chip">>Contact restricted. Area communications block in place.</span> It's even worse. Not being able to reach the Dinami is one thing, but not being able to contact anyone at all is another. You glance around and attempt to move but find nothing has changed. The inability annoys you, causing you to feel like you're strapped to tether hooks. "Fine. Location?" <<include "0.13">>
<<nobr>>\<<set $health to 13>><</nobr>>\ <span class="chip">>Triangulating in progress. Location known. Sandor System. Planet Crion. The Spires.</span> "The Spires? Nearest civilized town or city?" <span class="chip">>Dread Outlands. 10.3 miles in the southwest direction.</span> So, not even Taouron. That's just great. You pause, attempting to swallow whatever bile feels like it wishes to rise. The sensation burns your throat, and it takes a few more minutes before you find yourself able to speak. "I need to get there. Chances of survival?" <span class="chip">>Calculating. Health is currently at 13%. Steady. Chance of survival is low. Approximately 17.453 chance of reaching goal.</span> You swear you see that spirit of yours in the distance though you can't be sure. The notion causes you to shiver, but it doesn't matter. Your body feels like it grows weaker by the minute, and keeping your eyes open turns into a challenge you never wished to take on. Once again, you find yourself gazing up at the cloudless sky. You can't recall if Crion possessed clouds and if they are of artificial make, a feature that the governments feel brings most of their citizens' peace of mind. Peering up at it causes you to miss Terra Genesis. How long has it been since you've seen its sky? You can barely grasp the memory of when stars were just stars and not suns fueling millions of other systems. When alien life and intergalactic travel was an idea to laugh over while recalling movies. You reach out as if to grasp for that memory but what you find in your hold is something far worse. Reality. There is always a beginning, and the day that comes to mind marked yours. The day //they// came. <a data-passage="0.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<audio "sad_desert" fadeout>> <<audio "ambience2" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<set $health to 100>><</nobr>>\ <img src="images/year1.png" style="float:center"> <span class ="flashback">"Scientists, with the help of <<link 'trarkran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/trarkran.png" align="right" width="30%">(Tu-wahk-wen) The trarkran are native to the Lyrae System, originating from Miarilia. They are the most prominent species in the galaxy and the first to discover and utilize cosmicium. Almost every species, save for vetix and draqe, have them to thank for where they are today. They are a traditional and highly competitive society that openly views their ways as superior to other species. The trarkran basic anatomy is similar to the terran's, with significant differences being their cartilage-based head crests, tails, and having only four digits on their hands. Their head crests are flexible and hardy and, therefore, able to be moved in a series of different styles without concern of damage. Crest limitations and growth are specific to the individual, with some finding their crest growing only a few inches before stopping and others finding their crests thicker and longer than others. Their crests are always an ombre color, with the base being the same as their skin and the tip being the same shade as their facial marking. They possess two sensitive ears that sit high on their heads and are used as a form of expression. They possess flat noses with ridges and small spikes on both sides of their jaws. They also have tails, with males possessing only one and females possessing two. In both circumstances, these highly flexible tails are used for balance, piercing, and are later shown to also be used to care for the young. The tail is strong enough to lift various things, and a child is one of them. Due to females being the primary hunters, the extra tail allows for additional balance and mobility, and when used during hunts as a rudder, allows for sharper turns and a boost of speed during these turns. The species' skin tones range from shades of brown, orange, and red, while facial markings rely on their skin tone but will predominantly be shades of brown or grey. Their eyes have been observed to exist in every color save for white and black. Their pupils are slits that can get rounder upon dilation, and their brightly saturated irises are large and always resting against a black sclera. Cosmicium reacts different to all species. For trarkran, it led to a manipulation of their blood, thus allowing them to inflame a mix of energy and blood and use it as a power source known as moi̥. Able to be utilized as a defensive and offensive ability, trarkrans must also discharge it in an act called 'sparking.' A buildup of blood and energy can lead to death if not emptied. Severe heat temperatures will also cause the sensation to grow faster, while colder temperatures are slowed due to the buildup being burned off to heat the individual.<</dialog>><</link>> allies, continue to further expand Terra's technologies and what we know. We're here with scientist Malcolm Drake from Delphi Industries to talk about just one ... the more recent ..." The radio announcer's voice sputters out before turning to lasting static. An eyebrow raise is all you pay the situation in terms of attention before placing it back on the papers in your hand. Despite all of the issues that this blackout has brought, your teachers still find ways to get you to learn and — as they like to put it, embrace and acquire. You can't remember the last time you've held a textbook, let alone opened it and took notes from it. Your eyes drift across the page's contents, retaining nothing you read.</span> [[Standard history.|0.14History][$smarts +=10]] [[Coding problems.|0.14Coding][$tech +=10]] [[Body anatomy.|0.14Anatomy][$medical +=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Intelligence ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">It's standard world history. Information surrounding places you'll probably never see, wars that you will never experience, and figureheads that have been buried long before you were even a thought. It all seems so trivial when you're living through a historical event. Aliens on Terra Prime. Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.15">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Technology ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">A book about coding and your personal notes rest before you. Any other day, the variables and lines of symbols mixed with words make sense. They translate themselves to you similarly to how another's language would. Your brain processes it, then translates it, and you gain valuable information and clarity. Today is not like those days. Your brain processes it but somewhere along the road between processing and translating, it vanishes - like most things nowadays. It's hard to stay focused on your studies when all you wish to do is learn more about what the aliens have done this time. Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.15">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Medical ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">A terran muscle diagram stares back at you, with a skeletal version resting beside it. You clearly see the lines and the labels beside them, but words become gibberish, and nothing really remains in your brain even after writing them and what they do down. Mainly, it causes you to wonder what the alien's anatomy is like and if you'll ever be able to see a diagram of that. How do their muscles work? Is their blood red like terrans? Anatomy-wise, are they closer to insects, mammals, reptiles, or even amphibians? There is so much to learn! Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.15">>
<span class ="flashback">You watch as the man sitting beside the radio fiddles with some of the dials, pressing an assortment of buttons afterward before finally deciding to just hit it. "That's not how that works," you sigh, rolling your eyes as you attempt to give your work even a modicum of attention. <<if $tech >=10>>\ "How about you help me then computer genius." "I am helping you. I told you that hitting it won't help." He frowns at your reply, but your grin only grows wider. <<else>>\ "Yea, well, sometimes you have to force things to work," he grumbles, smacking it a second time. Both of you freeze as a few garbled words are said but then it flat-lines once again, inevitably proving your point. <</if>>\ "This is becoming frustrating," he exclaims, "pinche radio. Age of technology, mi culo." He looks as grumpy as he sounds, practically steaming as he rests back in the chair. "How can you be so calm?" he questions. "It's just a blackout, Isaias. It's not like this is the first time we've had one." You grumble the latter part of your statement, "just the first one you've experienced." "You're still mad at me, huh?" he asks after a lull in the conversation. A conversation that you hoped would end with your statement.</span> [[“I'm trying to study.”|0.15Study][$open -=2]] [[“No, of course not.”|0.15CourseNot][$open -=5]] [[“Yea, I kinda am.”|0.15KindaAm][$open +=5]] [[Shrug.|0.15Shrug][$open +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"I'm trying to study," you grumble, your grip tightening on the pen in your hand as you look over pages that become more and more foreign. "Ha, vete a la chingada. You haven't written down shit since I came out here. Just tell me already. What did I do to piss you off?"</span> <<include "0.16">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"No, of course not. I'm fine. I was fine yesterday and the day before that. And the week before that and the month before that and -" "Yea, I get it. You're fine. Am I allowed to even know why you're mad at me?" You're about to reiterate your previous point of not being mad but decide against it. Otherwise, this conversation will see no end.</span> <<include "0.16">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Yea, I guess I kinda am." Your frown deepens as you shrug your shoulders and glance at him, "I'm allowed to be mad about that." "No. Not when that anger is falling on me for no reason."</span> <<include "0.16">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You shrug, unsurprised, when your brother shakes his head, turning his chair so that he's now facing you directly. "No, don't shrug. Words, $name. Tell me what's up."</span> <<include "0.16">>
<span class ="flashback">You remain silent, and he sighs, the anger fading from his voice as he runs his hands through his hair, still failing to grow back to its original length after being cut all those years ago. "We used to talk a lot," he reminds you, "you could tell me anything. You //did// tell me everything." "Yea, well, that's before you left us," you manage to grumble. He seems to grow calmer, his shoulders slumping. "I was always going to come back." "That's what //he// said too." Isaias begins to reply when the door opens, and your second older brother walks out, saving you from whatever conversation is looming. "Hace mucho calor!" he screams to the neighborhood before taking a seat and huffing dramatically, "and I'm bored. You guys wanna go to the pool?" Far too late does Dante pick up on the mood and stiffens, his eyes wide as he looks from you to the eldest. "What the fuck did I walk in on?" "Hey!" Isaias growls, "watch your mouth." Dante snorts, "sure, dad." "Nothing," you say, actually answering him. You shake the paper in your hands, "did you finish your notes?" "No, and I won't until this blackout is over. My excuse will be that I forgot how to hold a pencil." You and Isaias shake your head, Dante nudging your foot from underneath the patio table and gaining your attention. He doesn't use words, but Dante never had to when it came to you. Out of all your siblings, Dante was the easiest to communicate with, perhaps due to his openness and honesty. Traits that usually got him in trouble. But it was a welcome shift compared to stoic Isaias or over-sharer Rayna.</span> <a data-passage="0.16.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">Your silence causes Dante to quit probing as he turns his attention to the faulty radio. His boredness becomes infectious, and you struggle to stay in one place. You miss the internet and television, electricity in general. The only thing you have - had - that works is the radio. Until now, you could listen to reporters and enjoy a few different music stations. But each day, more stations would flicker out of existence, leaving you with none. At least every other blackout left you with a working radio and some speck of sanity. Isaias rises, pacing back and forth on the narrow patio, "this feels wrong." "Your soldier gut tell you that?" Dante questions, "there just can't be a blackout? Something //has// to be wrong?" "Hey, pendejo, shut up." "How about you first, puto!"</span> [[Backup Dante.|0.16Dante][$heart +=5]] [[Backup Isaias.|0.16Isaias][$gut +=5]] [[Try to change the conversation.|0.16ChangeConvo][$mind +=5]] [[Stay out of it.|0.16StayOutOfIt][$heart +=2; $mind +=2; $gut +=2]]
<span class ="flashback">"Dante has a point," you shout, getting both of them to shut up, "like I said, this is your first blackout, not ours. We're used to this." "First, it's not my first blackout. Another reason why I think this is a problem." "Yea, watch out it's Terra Prime, launching a sneak attack," Dante grins. You shrug nonchalantly, "technology practically runs everything nowadays so when something is faulty, everything suffers from it." He shakes his head before you're even done speaking, glancing around as if an answer will appear. And soon, it does in the shape of a police car pulling to a stop in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">"Technically," you shout, thankful that your voice causes both of them to shut up, "this is different. Every other blackout we still had the radio working. Now, nothing." "Every blackout gets worse though," Dante points out. "And that's not something you should be alarmed about?" Isaias shakes his head, "idiota." Before Dante can fire off another insult, a police car catches all of your attention. You watch as it comes to a stop in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">"Maybe we should play a game or work on a puzzle," you suggest, possessing no other ideas at the moment. You suppose you can go with Dante's earlier proposal of visiting the pool. That is, if it is even open due to the blackout. "Electricity is off and the entire town is without a signal and you want me to just sit around and play puzzles with you?" If anyone else said that, you'd peer at them as though they were the crazy ones. What are any of you to do about this when even local law enforcement stands at an impasse? But it isn't anyone else, it's your older brother who went off to join the Genesis military. Standing around waiting to be saved isn't part of his blueprint. Thankfully, none of you are able to add in anything else to the riveting conversation due to a police car parking in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">"Idiotas," you mumble, fighting the temptation to go back into the house and leave them to whatever bickering they are about to engage in. The only thing that stops you is the sight of a police car. You watch as it slows and comes to a complete stop right in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">No words are spoken as the cop nears, glancing at you and Dante before placing his full attention on Isaias. "Captain," Isaias greets. "Staff Sergeant Isaias," he nods in greeting, "can I speak with you down at the station?" "Something wrong?" The officer gazes over at the two of you, obviously trying to figure out what he should say since he's in your presence. But a thunder clap renders him silent as a shadow falls across the entire neighborhood. You rise and leave the safety of the porch to take a look into what was once a cloudless sky, your heart stilling as you stare back at the descending spaceship. "Yea …" the Captain says, gulping, "I think there may be one. We um …" He attempts to find the right words but fails as his gaze stays fixed to the sky, "we just, uh." "I understand, let's go." This seems to shake the Captain out of whatever trance the ship has placed upon him and he nods firmly, speed walking towards the cruiser as Isaias follows. "Wait, what?" you question, grabbing his hand, terror filling your heart, "no, no. Don't go." "It's going to be fine," he reassures you, squeezing your hand before worming his free, "I'll be right back. And until I get back, go inside and stay there." Neither of you move from your spot as you watch the two men get into the police cruiser. "Ahorita!" Isaias yells one last time. You still fail to move as the car disappears down the street, vanishing into the darkness. Something deep inside of you fidgets and squirms, begging for you to listen. To run and hide.</span> [[“Let's go inside.”|0.17GoInside]] [[Stay outside a bit longer.|0.17StayOutside][$dante_brave to false]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>New Trait Dynamic Unlocked with Dante: Brave<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Dante," you murmur as he leaves the safety of the porch and walks further into the yard, gazing up at the spacecraft. "Dante, come on Isaias said to go inside." "Un momento," he tells you, "I'm taking it as him saying later. He should've been more specific." Your fear bubbles to the surface and though you doubt the house will serve as any true protection, it's better than looking straight at an open maw and choosing to venture closer. "No, Dante," you utter, leaning forward and grabbing his hand, "please can we go inside. I don't like this." He finally glances at you and once seeing your expression, nods his head. He spares the ship one last look before following you into the house.</span> <<include "0.18">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>New Trait Dynamic Unlocked with Dante: Cautious<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Can we just go inside already?" Dante questions. You step further out into the yard, taking in the hovering spacecraft. You have always seen them on television, but never with your own eyes. You believed them large through the screen but you suppose you never really realized how massive they were until they were right there before you. "$name!" Dante growls, his hand grasping yours and you can feel just how much he's trembling. "Go ahead," you tell him, "I want to see what happens." "No, no, please," he begs, "I don't want to leave you out here alone with this but I don't want to stay out here either. I just feel like something really bad is about to happen." You choose not to question how going inside will keep whatever that bad thing is from happening. This doesn't alarm you, not really. Between you and Dante, you've always been the more adventurous and daring one. Wrong way means continue on and paths with no trails scream at you to forge one. Dante, through sheer hatred of being alone, joins you and that is probably the only reason. Sighing, you turn and nod, following him back into the house.</span> <<include "0.18">>
<span class ="flashback">Once inside you lock the door, refraining from the thoughts hovering around in your mind. <<if hasVisited("0.17StayOutside")>>You head over to the blinds and peek out and up. You've<<else>>While you head towards the couch, Dante stays by the windows, peeking out the blinds. He's<</if>> been fascinated with the aliens ever since you all gathered around the television the day they landed and presented themselves to your world leaders over on Terra Prime. They looked nothing like the images you've seen in movies and online. They didn't possess a giant head with large black eyes that seem to take up most of their face. They weren't these lanky, skeletal-like creatures with gray skin and long limbs. Calling them alien seemed like an insult. It was true that they appeared odd and obviously not terran, but the connotation of the word alien just felt odd when describing their features. You remember taking in their appearance, committing it to memory like so many others. Trarkran, that is what they call themselves. Here you were presented with a species that could communicate, build, reproduce, and more. They were similar to all of you, simply looked and spoke different. Since then, you, like so many others, entered into an almost trance like state. Any information about the aliens was taken and devoured like the first drops of rain upon a soil deep in drought.</span> [[You were amazed. They were aliens!|0.18AliensAliensISay][$view +=10]] [[You were curious, but anxious.|0.18CuriousAndAnxious][$view +=5]] [[They freaked you out.|0.18FreakOut][$view -=5]] [[You had no opinion.|0.18NoOpinion][$view -=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">At the time, you failed to understand how anyone could be anything less than amazed by the news. It didn't matter if you were a kid or adult, this was the biggest news of the century. Class never felt the same as even teachers struggled to remain focused. Televisions were on and kept to a low volume as teachers taught their lessons, drifting off whenever the trarkrans came into view. History was in the making and you were all alive to witness it.</span> <<include "0.19">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">The aliens drew as much interest and curiosity from you as it did anyone else but it also caused you to feel anxious. It felt much like wandering into a dark hole whose origins were mostly fictitious imaginings created by your mind. Every time they appear you gave them your undivided attention, trying to push past the feeling in your gut that screams for a need of caution.</span> <<include "0.19">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">If others felt the way you did, they did a wonderful job of not showing it. You surmise that there's no doubt that you were curious, who wouldn't be? But the fear outdid any kind of awestruck feeling you may have felt. While many gaped and fantasized aloud, you kept to your corner of fear and anxiousness, not willing to speak up out of fear of being ostracized by your peers. You told no one, not even Dante, about the nightmares that would have you clutching onto your pillow in the middle of the night. Horrors stitched into your brain by a bloody needle, held by crooked fingers.</span> <<include "0.19">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Your opinion wasn't particularly strong, not like Rayna's whose pupils seemed to dilate an entire eight millimeters or like your mother who seems to express her horror and grief through body language. They exist and there's little you can do about it. Having no opinion seemed as blasphemous as having one, regardless of which side you leaned on. How could something this large invoke only a shrug and pull a disinterested sigh? You still seek out answers to that one.</span> <<include "0.19">>
<<nobr>>\<<audio "ambience2" fadeout>> <<audio "invasion" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ <span class ="flashback">"$name!" you hear your littlest sister, Camila, call out. She comes bounding down the stairs and straight towards you. In her arms and secured close to her chest is her favorite plushie. At first, you think she's ripped it again. It wouldn't be the first nor the last. But the look in her eye screams of something else. "I'm scared," she whimpers, pushing her face into your thigh. Before you can reassure her, a loud droning is emitted while a soft blue light bathes your living room. Seconds later, it fades before fading back in. You release her, but she grabs onto you tighter this time. "Don't go!" "I need to see what's going on." Something small yet distinct snorts in your head, <<if $dante_brave>>telling you your words are a lie. You don't need to, nor do you genuinely want to, but you have to know what's happening. Dante is already at the door, looking at you.<<else>>telling you how ridiculous you're being. You don't need to but you want to and if there are any consequences to be paired with your curiosity, you'll face them. Glancing around, you look to Dante who is hovering near the window, obviously not wishing to join you.<</if>> "Take Churro." She thrusts the stuffed piglet into your arms, "he makes me feel brave." You thank her and head back outside. No longer is there just a spaceship overhead, but a large dome now spills over you, stretching for miles in all directions. In the distance, you can barely make out its end. The scope causes you to tumble backward, almost tripping, but you regain footing. You find many others outside, pointing and shouting as hysteria grows among them. You, and all those within, are imprisoned.</span> [[Remain calm and indifferent.|0.20CalmIndifferent][$open -=5]] [[Express your fear.|0.20ExpressFear][$open +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Despite the pounding of your heart, you manage to keep yourself calm, or as calm as you possibly can in such a scenario. Panicking will do you nor anyone else any good. Your insides practically scream at you but you retain your passiveness, every other thought is one reminding you to remain collected.</span> <<include "0.20">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Your heart beats with the fury of waves crashing against an unyielding cliffside and you have no wish to hide it. You clutch onto Camila's stuffed animal to ground you but it does a poor job. You don't know what's happening and you are terrified of the idea that it soon won't matter. That you'll soon be part of it and will see it up close.</span> <<include "0.20">>
<span class ="flashback">"Dante," you manage to finally say, and he comes to your side. His mouth opens, but all you hear is an explosion. In the distance, fire and smoke take to the air, looking to slam against the dome, but like you, it's trapped. "Dante," you repeat, this time, there is much more fear in your voice. "Inside!" he shouts, grabbing you and pulling you back towards the house. The people behind you scream, their hysterics flooding your ears and only dampening when Dante closes the door behind you. "What's going on?" Rayna questions. She stands on the staircase with your mother, who holds your youngest brother, Dimitri. Your mother takes the two of you in and glances around, a new kind of fear entering her eyes. "Where's Isaias?" "Why is it so dark?" Dimitri asks, his bottom lip poking out, "I don't wanna go to sleep." "What's going on? Was that an explosion?" Rayna inquires, refusing to let her previous question be forgotten.</span> <a data-passage="0.21"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You feel a tug on your sleeve as something small slips into your hand. Glancing down, you see Camila staring at you with large, dark brown eyes. "Where's Churro?" It dawns on you that the plushie is no longer in your grasp, and though your mind is still far, your gaze travels to the door. Camila is a bright child, and it doesn't take long for her to realize what has become of her favorite toy. She clings to you, mourning the loss of it as fear chokes her up. The air feels like it's being sucked out of the building, providing you all with a feeling of claustrophobia. The explosion on the edge of town, the large near translucent dome that traps you, the ship that now hovers in the sky overhead, and Isaias, who is out there while all of this is happening. Inside the house is no better. Rayna's constant questions, Dante speaking to your mother, Camila's sobs as she attempts to stay quiet. All of it tugs at your brain, giving you a feeling of dizziness and the need to sit down. Ever since walking outside, a peculiar feeling has eased itself onto you, and you've struggled to put a name to it. Now, you finally can. You feel like a pig locked in a pen, watching as the butcher sharpens their knives. "I'm going to go to the station and get your brother," your mother states. "No, amá," Dimitri cries, throwing his arms around her neck, "no go." "He's a grown man and will be alright," Dante tells her, "don't." She turns to Rayna, "take your brother, and then all of you head to the basement. Lock the door, and don't come out until you hear me say it's safe." Her words cause Dimitri to latch on even tighter, burying his wails in her shoulder. The young child's sobbing sets off a chain reaction, and soon Camila joins in, and even Rayna begins to tear up.</span> [[Grab and comfort Dimitri.|0.21Comfort][$attitude +=5; $gut +=3]] [[Scold your mother.|0.21Scold][$attitude -=5; $mind +=3]] [[Panic.|0.21Panic][$heart +=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Blinking repeatedly you attempt to focus as best you can. None of this will help, though you hardly have any idea what will. The least you can do is calm the younger ones down. You move Rayna out of the way and grab onto Dimitri, bringing him into your arms in one swift move. He seems to accept this, wrapping his arms around you like you are his last lifeline. "I got you," you whisper, rocking him back and forth like how you've seen mother do, and thankfully his squeals turn to hiccups. Camila doesn't leave your side, even as Rayna attempts to coax her off of you. Her arms stay wrapped around your leg, making it difficult to move. Taking your gaze off of them, you look to see your mother nearing the door, Dante's pleas landing on deaf ears. Turning, she grabs your brother by the shoulders, whispering something to him before placing a lingering kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right back, I promise you." And with that she goes. You squint your eyes as if this is all but a trick, that she hadn't just walked out that door and that she was still with you.</span> <a data-passage="0.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"You can't just leave us, mamá." "I need to find your brother," she tells you, finally getting Dimitri to let her go and depositing him into Rayna's arms. "He will be fine," you grab onto her hand and squeeze it, "please, don't leave us." "Shh," she whispers, placing a kiss to your forehead, "I'll be back, I promise you. Take care of your sisters and brothers until I return." Your sobs fail to sway her and with that she goes. You squint your eyes as if this is all but a trick, that she hadn't just walked out that door and that she was still with you.</span> <a data-passage="0.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">A few kids in school liked to joke about how this is just an invasion. How the aliens will soon start to attack and harvest all of you. The majority didn't believe them, you even had a hard time believing them. The trarkrans have been peaceful, no sign of aggression and wanting to only work with terrans from what you've seen. If their wish is to exterminate you, then they'd have just done it. It wasn't like Terra could put up much of a fight. You wonder how those kids feel knowing they were right. Your breathing grows rampant and the more you try to control it, the more it grows. The air is suffocating and tears blur your vision as you continue to watch your mother make her way to the door, despite Dante's pleas. Camila squeezes your hand, burying her face in your pants leg to hide her own whimpers. "I'll be right back, I promise you." And with that she goes. You squint your eyes as if this is all but a trick, that she hadn't just walked out that door and that she was still with you.</span> <a data-passage="0.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class="flashback"><<if $dante_brave>>"Come on," Dante sniffles, "to the basement." You hear him speak but your eyes never leave that door. Even as you feel someone guiding you, they don't waver until you're pulled into a separate room. You watch as the doors to the basement close and turn your gaze to Dante who stares back at you, his mouth moving but no words breaching his lips.<<else>>You shake your head and clear your throat, "come on, we need to go to the basement." The others begin to move, albeit slowly as their eyes stay fixed on the front door. You hold the door to the basement open for each of them, passing Camila off to Dante as he enters the basement. One last glance and you enter as well, closing the door behind you. It's only when you lock it does your brain slow and you realize that your mother is out there.<</if>> "She left us," you whisper, beginning to heave as the realization washes over you. "No, she didn't," Dante whispers, "okay. She's coming back." "She left us like dad did," you gasp, "and Isaias." "Isaias did not leave us, $name," Dante corrects, "he came back." "And he left again!" They keep leaving. Everyone keeps leaving. "They'll both be back," Dante screams at you, as if screaming was the only way to make him believe his own words. He grabs you and pulls you close. You clutch onto him as your fears manifest into shadows that bravely trapeze through your mind. "Don't leave, Dante." "Come on," he jokes with a quivering voice, "you know you're stuck with me. I'll be here. I promise."</span> [[“Really? You promise?”|0.22Promise][$promise to true]] [[“Don't promise.”|0.22NoPromise]]
<span class="flashback">"Really?" you choke, gazing up at your oldest brother questionably, "do you really promise?" You're about to warn him against such an action when he grabs your hand and squeezes it. "Yes, $name. I promise." Another explosion goes off, causing the house to shake and you brace as a few pieces of debris fall from the ceiling. The others are further in, all huddled up and clinging to one another.</span> <<include "0.22.1Promise">>
<span class="flashback">"Don't promise," you choke, shaking your head furiously, "they always promise and they always swear they'll be right back. And they never do. They never come back." Another explosion goes off, causing the house to shake and you brace as a few pieces of debris fall from the ceiling. The others are further in, all huddled up and clinging to one another.</span> <<include "0.22.1Promise">>
<span class="flashback">"Hush little baby, lay down your head," Rayna sings softly. Her voice is like a whisper, if she sung any softer then she wouldn't even be speaking.</span> [[Which is exactly what she should be doing.|0.22Gut][$gut +=5]] [[If it calms the little two, then so be it.|0.22Mind][$mind +=5]] [[She can continue, it helps you too.|0.22Heart][$heart +=5]]
<span class ="flashback">"Stop it, Rayna," you scold as quietly as you can. She sends you a look but you return one just as intimidating. You had no time for this.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<span class ="flashback">The bigger issue wasn't her singing but the little two crying. If this was calming both of them then it would be wiser to just let her continue on for now.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<span class ="flashback">Her singing manages to calm part of you down as well and so you say nothing to sway her from the action. All of you could use it right now.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<span class ="flashback">Each explosion has the five of you pressing closer in, clinging to each other as if the other is a lifeline. Whatever is happening outside feels distant, and yet so personal when you know that two people you care for reside in the fold of it. Despite the side of you that refuses to believe they have met death, you begin to realize that those nearby are all you have left. You will never see Isaias or your mother again. Before these thoughts can latch onto you, the sound of footsteps above echo off the walls and floors. At first, you dare to hope that your mother was successful. She had found Isaias and they've returned. Everything will be okay. But the low grumblings of a language not yours tells you that hoping is such a silly thing to do. "I want amá!" Dimitri cries, his fit restarting as he does so. Your heart slows as the footsteps above you stop. It is silent for a while before you hear something pulling on the door. <<if $dante_brave>>"Put them under the staircase!" Dante tells you and Rayna, she immediately stands to do so<<else>>"Under the staircase, now," you hiss to the older two. Rayna doesn't hesitate, immediately taking the younger two's hands, about to yank them to the new destination<</if>> when the door suddenly is kicked open. It's too late. The five of you huddle together as the aliens from the television appear. At the moment, the figure wears full body armor, allowing only their general frame to be seen. They make no move to apprehend or kill you, choosing to merely stare. A few seconds of inaction continue until they utter something in their native tongue, moving towards the stairs while their comrades charge towards you. The little two scream at the top of their lungs, kicking and screaming and begging for their mother.</span> [[Fight their hold.|0.23Fight][$heart +=2; $attitude -=5]] [[Tell the two to calm down.|0.23CalmDown][$mind +=2; $attitude +=5]] [[Try to reason with the alien.|0.23Reason][$gut +=2; $tact +=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You join them in their attempts to free themselves, refusing to go easy. You believe you hear Dante screaming at you to stop but you don't listen. The more you squirm and thrash, the tighter the grip on your arm becomes. Seeming to have had enough, the trarkran pushes you to the ground, kicking you harshly and causing you to gasp in pain. You hardly have time to register this pain as they yank you back to your feet and force you up the stairs. It feels like you have a few broken ribs, but you're not sure. The only thing you are aware of is the throbbing pain that originates there.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.24Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Dimitri. Camila," you scream, "stop. Calm down, okay. Just come on, we're right here with you." Either they don't hear you or they choose not to listen, still struggling and screaming as the aliens push all five of you towards the door.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.24Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.24">>
[[Reason with them forcibly.|0.23ReasonI][$persuade -=10; $approach to 30]] [[Reason with them nicely.|0.23ReasonC][$persuade +=10; $approach to 70]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Intimidate ++ | Chaotic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Let me grab them. Let me grab them!" you repeat, reaching for the two while gazing at the alien that holds you. "For fucks sake it'll make this easier, just give them to me." You yell this time, not caring about the consequences that are swiftly handed to you. The alien backhands you, not even allowing you time to recove ras they force you up the stairs.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.24Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Charm ++ | Lawful ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Let me grab them, please. Please!" you plead and attempt to reach for the two while gazing at the alien that holds you. "It will make this easier. Please." Instead of allowing you this, the alien shoves you forward, giving you a wordless answer as they force you up the stairs.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.24Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.24">>
<span class ="flashback">"Let go! Mommy!" Dimitri cries, the sound becoming more and more heartbroken the closer you get to the door. For a boy his size, he puts up a valiant fight. He grabs onto a bar of the staircase and hugs onto it, refusing to budge. "Dimitri, stop! Just come on," you say in a pleading tone. Freezing entirely as the sound of a pistol being shot rings through the house. The words you had been ready to say die right then and there as you watch Dimitri's limp body falls to the ground, blood pooling from the head wound that he now possesses. You hear your siblings screaming and feel the tightening grip of the alien that guides you. You even notice the change in scenery as you are thrown to the ground along with many others. But that doesn't stop the scene from restarting again and again. Everywhere you look, you see him. You're not sure when you threw up but the bile resting right in front of you and the acidic aftertaste tells you that it indeed happened. You blink, gazing around but finding it hard to register anything. //Focus. Focus.// Each time you repeat the word, you find yourself fading further back. Your body back in the house and kneeling beside a now dead Dimitri. He had been right there, alive and breathing. You hear his scream and see the terror that takes hold of his frame. It's all there and so clear. This can't be real. The feeling of something cold on the back of your head brings you to the now and your surroundings hit you like a pail of ice-cold water. The smell of blood, the sight of dead bodies, screams and explosions both near and far. No. This can't be real.</span> <a data-passage="0.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Let go! Mommy!" Dimitri cries, the sound becoming more and more heartbroken the closer you get to the door. For a boy his size, he puts up a valiant fight. He grabs onto a bar of the staircase and hugs onto it, refusing to budge. The next few minutes are hard for you to comprehend. You're not entirely sure what happens. Just that one moment you're inside the house, begging for Dimitri to calm himself and the next, you're outside, surrounded by the pitiful faces of others. Attempting to think back only finds your bewilderment growing. A gun shot ringing out, a body ... your brain allows you to go no further. You blink, gazing around but finding it hard to register anything. //Focus. Focus.// Each time you repeat the word, you find yourself fading further back. This can't be real. The feeling of something cold on the back of your head brings you to the now and your surroundings hit you like a pail of ice-cold water. The smell of blood, the sight of dead bodies, screams and explosions both near and far. No. This can't be real.</span> <a data-passage="0.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You feel like you've been sitting there for a while, watching as the carnage unfolds little by little. Some refused to be subjected to whatever these aliens had planned. Fighting until their last breath, and that last breath always is taken with their face on the pavement as the blood puddle grows around them. Others are dragged out, their legs seeming to no longer work. You blink, bewildered, as something falls and hits your nose. Your face scrunches as you tilt your head up, met by a few more raindrops from a now open and dome-free sky. The need for it to erase your memories, to take you and drown away the turmoil. Something inside of you begs for this new feeling to wake you up from a nightmare you don't remember laying your head down to experience. A couple of minutes later, an alien dressed in a far more formal outfit appears, a holographic list in their hands. They ignore the rain that comes down faster while their companions mumble, hissing and regarding the weather as a nuisance. From time to time this more official appearing trarkran will point to someone specific and then in the direction of another group. There is no discernible pattern. Nothing to tell you if you might be chosen next, or if at all. Soon, there are three groups established. You remain in the one with your little sister while Dante stands in another, and Rayna in the third. Attempts to figure out what each group has in common fails. They appear completely random and that scares you further. When the trarkran finishes, they set their list aside and lifts their wrist, typing something and calling upon a number of pods that shoot down. The alien behind you grabs you roughly before pushing you towards them. You almost slip on the wet asphalt as you attempt to get a quick look at your surroundings. Your group and Dante's are ushered towards these pods but Rayna's remain without. You meet Rayna's eyes and your heart falls as she stares back, a tinge of confused optimism on her face as the rain now comes pounding down. You smile back, attempting to at least do that for her as the alien behind her raises their gun and fires. The rain makes quick work of the blood spilled by her and those of her group but that is simply a belief you choose to have. You see none of this as you're corralled onto the pod. And so it began.</span> <a data-passage="PartOne"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<a data-passage="Chapter One"><img src="images/partone.png" alt="Part One: Trials of the Hunter"/></a>
<<silently>> <<if $markings is "red">> <<set $health +=10>> <</if>>\ <</silently>>