#the emergence of reality and the hidden order of chaos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vergilsama922 · 5 months

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Another class steps on the scene!!! Class 74-B!

(人◕ω◕) Ahhh. Heaven of Despair~ That's right everyone. This class has kinda been on the back burner for a bit. But in my defense, I didn't expect Alan Wake 2 to be so damn good. That and of course, I been working and watching anime. But outside that, we have another class and this time shoutouts to @pyropsychiccollector for helping make FIVE Bios! Kisumi, Yumi, Saori, Rika and Natalie!

Well regardless, Makoto is a VERY lucky guy. But also with a new batch that means more interactions and bonding~ Also like always expect a class orgy picture in the near future ;D

Anyways, Enjoy Class 74-B and give them a warm welcome!

(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) And now time for Bios below~

Aiko Fubuki - Ultimate Lucky Student

In the neon-veined heart of Tokyo, where hidden narratives pulse beneath a surface of ordered chaos, Aiko Fubuki's tale unfolded, marked by whispers of enigma and echoes of a destiny disrupted. The child of brilliance, her life was meant to be inscribed in the annals of academic legends, nurtured by the genius of her parents—pioneering researchers entrapped by the grandiose Bible Plan of Hope's Peak Academy's Steering Committee. Yet, their light was snuffed out in a cruel twist, leaving behind only darkness and the shattered remnants of a family.

Aiko's parents had dared to dance with the devils of knowledge, weaving narratives that could bend wills and shape destinies. Their intellect was their sin, and their creation—a system designed to inspire hope—became their demise. The Steering Committee, fearing the power they had unwittingly unleashed, chose to extinguish the threat. In the cold calculus of power, Aiko's parents were mere variables to be nullified. Their end was swift—a shadowy eradication disguised as an unsolved tragedy, leaving young Aiko orphaned and adrift in a merciless world.

Her luck, an aberration birthed from the chaos of her life's tragedy, was as violent as it was fortuitous. It manifested not in the mere turn of cards or the fall of dice but in the visceral reality of survival. It was a tempestuous ally, capricious and unruly, its whims dictating the rise and fall of those around her. Where blood was spilled, Aiko emerged unscathed; where guns were drawn, they misfired or were turned by a sudden shift of allegiance. Her presence was an omen—her luck, a force that commanded both fear and reverence.

The Yakuza, with their intricate knowledge of the streets and their intimate dance with danger, recognized the raw potential in Aiko's unpredictable fortune. They saw not a child to be comforted but a talisman to be wielded—a living charm against their enemies. To them, she was a vessel of chaos, a bearer of serendipitous upheaval that could tip the scales of power in their shadowy world. In their guardianship, Aiko was to be honed into an instrument of silent warfare, her chaotic luck their clandestine weapon.

Yet, the Yakuza's embrace was no act of altruism; it was an investment in the unpredictable currency of luck. Aiko's very existence among them was a gambit, a play in the high-stakes game of underground supremacy. As she grew under their aegis, her enigmatic aura deepened, her name whispered in reverence and dread. And amidst this maelstrom of fate and fury, Aiko's spirit remained undaunted. For within her burned a fire of vengeance and truth—a relentless drive to unravel the tangled skein of her parents' demise and to bring the unseen machinations of the unbeknownst to her Steering Committee to light.

Raised in the labyrinthine alleys of Tokyo's red-light district, Aiko Fubuki found herself nestled in the paradoxical embrace of the Yakuza—a life of opulent danger where every whispered secret held the weight of a life. The streets became her classroom, the clash of steel and the silent whispers her lullabies. She learned the language of the shadows, the art of reading intentions hidden behind veiled threats, and the grace of moving through a world that was perpetually balanced on the edge of a knife.

Her talent, a quirk of fate that she'd inherited like a cursed heirloom, revealed itself in the most harrowing of circumstances. It was during a clandestine exchange gone awry when Aiko's luck first truly unveiled its vicious splendor. Bullets flew, a deadly choreography aimed with lethal intent, yet each one veered off course, finding targets other than the intended. Men twice her size, thrice her strength, fell to the chaotic dance of her fortune, while Aiko, at the epicenter, emerged unscathed, her wide eyes the only evidence of the maelstrom that swirled around her.

The realization of her talent brought no joy, only a deeper sense of isolation. If her luck was a shield, it was also a barrier, repelling genuine connections, leaving a trail of distrust and fear. Yet it forged her personality as surely as a smith shapes steel. Aiko's demeanor hardened; she became distant, defensive, a lone wolf navigating a world where every hand extended in friendship could just as easily wield a dagger. She became a punk-ish enigma, the girl who walked alone, who responded to the world's cruelty with a short temper and a fierce independence.

Her relationship with the Yakuza evolved as they came to understand the nature of her luck. It was a wild, untamable force that demanded respect. They ceased to see her as a mere mascot and began to acknowledge her as a player in their games of power—a silent assassin who didn't need a blade to cut down her enemies. They taught her their ways, but Aiko was no one's puppet. She absorbed their lessons but refused to be confined by their expectations. She did things her way, regardless of what others thought, driven by an internal compass that pointed toward a justice only she could define. Aiko's luck was her armor, but it was also her challenge to master. She learned to walk the fine line between letting it loose like a tempest and reigning it in, a barely leashed beast. Her life became a study in control, in harnessing the chaos that bubbled beneath her calm exterior. The Yakuza watched with a mix of pride and apprehension as the girl with no talent grew into a force of nature whose very presence could turn the tides of their underworld wars.

The Yakuza, always cunning in their machinations, saw in Aiko's insatiable hunger for the truth a tool they could use to bind her to their cause. They fed her scraps of information, just enough to keep the flames of her vengeance burning bright, but never enough to let her see the full picture. Each morsel was calculated, a breadcrumb trail leading her deeper into the heart of their world, and further under their influence. They needed her, her unpredictable luck, her ferocity, her unwavering sense of purpose.

Aiko, for all her fiery spirit, understood the game they played. She knew that these titbits about her parents' demise and the Steering Committee's dark undertakings were doled out with the same precision as the slices of a well-honed blade. They meant to use her, yes, but Aiko was no fool. She took their offerings, turned them over in her mind, and stored them away. Each fact, each rumor, was a piece of the puzzle she was determined to solve.

But the Yakuza underestimated the ferocity of Aiko's resolve. She wasn't content with the role of a pawn, a silent specter dancing to their tune. No, Aiko was playing a longer, more dangerous game—one of her own making. With every piece of the puzzle they provided, she moved closer to her goal, a goal that extended far beyond the Yakuza's aspirations of power and control. Aiko's life with the Yakuza was a double-edged sword, much like her luck. They offered her a semblance of family, a place in a world where she had none, and a promise of vengeance for her lost parents. But in the shadowy corners of her heart, where the flames of her anger kept her warm at night, Aiko plotted. She plotted not just against the Steering Committee but against any and all who would try to use her as a weapon.

And that even applied to the Yakuza which they soon found out much later….

In the dense urban labyrinth of Tokyo, where every shadow could be a friend or foe, Aiko Fubuki and Sahiru Amakawa found their fates entangled. Sahiru, whose fortune seemed to bloom on the misfortune of others, was a jinx in human form, a walking catastrophe for those around her. The Yakuza, with their superstitious hearts and calculating minds, were naturally wary of such a figure. To them, Sahiru was an unpredictable variable, a wild card that could as easily spell their doom as usher in a windfall. And yet, it was Aiko who insisted on drawing Sahiru into her sphere, an audacious move that unsettled the seasoned criminals.

Aiko, with her innate ability to harness the chaos of her luck, saw Sahiru not as a threat but as an asset. In her eyes, Sahiru's disastrous aura was a tool to be wielded with precision. Aiko applied pressure, a mixture of veiled threats and promises of grandeur, manipulating Sahiru into an alliance of mayhem. Together, they tore through the city's underbelly like a typhoon, leaving a wake of chaos that was both a message and a warning to those who would dare to control Aiko.

Their collaboration was a symphony of disaster, a partnership where Aiko's anarchic luck met Sahiru's calamitous touch. Each venture was a gamble, each outcome a testament to their combined potential to upend the established order. The Yakuza watched, half in awe, half in horror, as their carefully curated world was shaken to the core by the very force they sought to chain to their will.

But amidst the upheaval, Aiko's true intentions simmered. The tumult was but a means to an end, the first step in her grand design to sever the puppet strings that the Yakuza had sought to bind her with. Her heart, fuelled by a silent inferno of revenge and an unquenchable thirst for the truth, was set on a collision course with destiny. And in the end, it would be the Yakuza who would learn the hard way that luck, especially Aiko's, could not be tamed.

The pursuit of those responsible for her parents' untimely deaths, and as Aiko would find out the Yakuza's role in the grand tapestry of betrayal and power plays orchestrated by the Steering Committee of Hope's Peak Academy. It was a truth that festered deep within Aiko, a smoldering ember that Sahiru's presence had inadvertently fanned into a roaring blaze. The Yakuza had been mentors, guardians, and even a semblance of family, but they had also kept her leashed with half-truths and scraps of information, using her uncanny luck as a shield against their enemies while holding the keys to her past just out of reach.

The boiling point arrived shrouded in the guise of a routine gathering, a meeting cloaked in the familiarity of strategy and camaraderie. But as the Yakuza lords discussed their latest exploits and conquests, Aiko's sharpened senses caught the slip of a tongue, the mention of a past operation—one that bore haunting similarities to the fateful event that had orphaned her.

The operation in question, as it turned out, was not a random act of violence but a calculated move in a larger scheme, a dark orchestration by the Steering Committee of Hope's Peak, with the Yakuza acting as the unwilling hand that carried out the grim task. Aiko's parents, researchers too close to unveiling secrets the Committee wished to keep buried, had become liabilities that needed to be silenced. The Yakuza, bound by twisted loyalties and blackmailed with threats to their own, had been forced into compliance.

Aiko's discovery that fateful evening was no mere coincidence. The Yakuza had found her that day on the streets, not by luck, but by following the orders of their puppeteers. They were to monitor the orphaned child of the researchers, to keep her close, to control her, lest she grow up to seek vengeance or, worse, stumble upon the truth herself. They had never anticipated the latent power within her, the chaotic luck that could one day turn against them.

As Aiko stood among the men who had been her guardians, protectors, and teachers, a cold realization washed over her. Her life had been orchestrated, her path manipulated. The supposed sanctuary they offered was a gilded cage, her safety an illusion. The truth was a corrosive acid, eating away at any semblance of trust and warmth that had existed between them.

The truth spilled forth in a torrent of confessions, half-hearted apologies, and attempts at justification. But the words fell on deaf ears; Aiko's heart was hardened, her vision clear. The Yakuza, who had once taught her the art of survival and strength, had been using her all along as a chess piece in a game played in the shadows of power and deceit.

The room, once filled with the smug comfort of schemers atop their imagined throne, now bristled with palpable fear. Aiko's revelation had struck a chord of terror in the hearts of the Yakuza. They had seen her luck's unpredictable outcomes, and now they were about to witness its destructive potential, directed squarely at them. The Yakuza leaders exchanged tense glances, their usual confidence faltering under the weight of Aiko's steely gaze. It was a silent consensus, born of the primal instinct to survive, that led them to act. If Aiko's chaotic fortune was a powder keg ready to detonate, they would attempt to snuff out the fuse before it could ignite.

With the swiftness of a serpent's strike, they attacked. The Yakuza, masters of ambush and deceit, lunged at Aiko with the intent to incapacitate, to overwhelm her before her luck could turn the tide. But Aiko, with the reflexes of one who had danced with danger all her life, responded not with panic but with the grace of chaos itself. Aiko’s movements were a blur, a dance of dodges and weaves so instinctive that each attempt to grasp her seemed only to slide off, as if luck itself was guiding her form. The Yakuza, with all their might and experience, found themselves faltering, struck by their own ricocheting intentions, as if fate had twisted their actions back upon themselves.

It was a spectacle that would be whispered about in the underworld for years to come; the night the girl with no talent, who wielded luck like a blade, carved her way out of the Yakuza’s clutches, leaving behind a trail of disarray and wounded pride. The storm of Aiko’s making had been unleashed, and it raged through their ranks with a fury that spoke of the chaos they had so foolishly courted.

In the end, Aiko stood alone amidst the disheveled room, the Yakuza subdued not by her hand, but by their own hubris and the invisible, capricious hand of luck that had always been on her side. With a cold, final look at the men who had lied to her, she stepped out into the night, free from the strings that had puppeteered her life. However, the night Aiko Fubuki declared her independence from the Yakuza was the night her tale TRULY began. Unbeknownst to her, her actions had long been observed by those with vested interests in talents, both known and unknown. Koichi Kizakura, the keen-eyed scout of Hope's Peak Academy, had been quietly tracking her progress, compiling reports that were as much about her deeds as they were about the unpredictable sway of her luck. His interest had been piqued not just by her talent, but by the iron-clad resolve and unyielding spirit she demonstrated. And also her parents connection to the deep rumored Bible plan.

Jin Kirigiri, the headmaster of the academy, had been receiving these reports with a growing sense of anticipation. Discussions about Aiko often filled the quiet corners of his office, where he pondered the potential she held and the role she could play within the esteemed halls of Hope's Peak and if she knew anything about the bible plan. His thoughts on the matter were aided by the intelligence provided by Damon Gant, the formidable yet righteous force within the Tokyo Police Department. Gant, who had a reputation for never leaving a stone unturned, had been feeding Jin and Koichi with insights into Aiko's life, drawn from his deep well of contacts and informants.

It was after all Gant's meticulous attention to detail that allowed Koichi to approach Aiko with a proposal she found herself intrigued by. Hope's Peak Academy was a place where her luck could be studied, honed, and perhaps even understood. It was an opportunity to step out of the shadows and into a world where her talent could be acknowledged and embraced. And to uncover what exactly the bible plan was and what happened to those who "disappeared" that fateful night who worked on it.

Aiko's initial meeting with Koichi Kizakura was far from the cordial exchanges of academia; it was a tense standoff in a dimly lit alley, a fitting backdrop for two individuals whose lives were anything but ordinary. She met his black and white invitation with a hardened gaze, her body language taut as a coiled spring, ready to strike. The emblem of Hope's Peak was a symbol she associated with the institution that had upended her life, and her hostility was palpable.

"You come here, to my turf, bearing the mark of those who killed my parents," Aiko spat out, her voice a low growl. "What makes you think I'd step foot in that place?"

Koichi, no stranger to tense situations, remained calm. He understood her distrust, her pain. "Hope's Peak is not the enemy you know," he said evenly. "It's a place where you can control your luck, not be controlled by it. And maybe, just maybe, find the closure you need."

Her eyes, which had been narrowed slits of suspicion, widened a fraction. Closure. That word resonated with her, echoing the deepest desires of her heart. Aiko was smart enough to know when to play her hand and when to fold. Koichi's offer, dangerous and rife with uncertainty though it might be, was a chance to step onto a larger stage, to turn her luck into a tool for uncovering the truth.

Gradually, the tension in her posture eased. "If I find out you're lying, or using me…" she warned, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Koichi just tipped his hat, a silent promise that he was on her side.

With the invitation in hand, Aiko found herself facing a crossroads. The next step she took could lead her closer to the truth or further into a web of deceit. The decision weighed heavily on her, but the promise of understanding her parents' fate, of peeling back the layers of secrecy that surrounded the Bible Plan, was too potent to ignore.

Her meeting with Jin Kirigiri and Damon Gant was set in a nondescript room that spoke of confidential matters and discreet conversations. The headmaster of Hope's Peak and the esteemed officer from the Tokyo Police Department presented a united front, yet their demeanor was not one of authority, but of alliance.

Gant began, his voice firm yet infused with an undercurrent of understanding. "Aiko Fubuki, you've had to fend for yourself in ways most can't imagine," he acknowledged, his eyes meeting hers with a certain respect. "Your past actions, while they may not have always been within the confines of the law, they were about survival. I understand it more than most would. I'm here to offer you a clean slate."

Jin followed, his tone echoing the sincerity of his counterpart. "We're not here to coerce or manipulate you, Aiko. The academy wants to offer you a chance to understand your luck, to use it to help us uncover truths that have been buried in darkness for far too long."

Aiko, still wary, let their words sink in. A full pardon was more than she could have hoped for, a freedom she hadn't tasted since before the Yakuza. And Jin's offer to work with her, not as a subject, but as a partner, struck a chord deep within her.

"If I join you, it's as an equal," she stated, her tone brooking no argument. "I want access to all you have on the Bible Plan, on the Steering Committee. And I want your word that my luck won't be exploited."

Jin nodded, a gesture of affirmation. "You have my word. Our goal is shared, Aiko. The tragedies borne from the Steering Committee's machinations have cost too many lives. It's time we brought them to light."

The partnership was formed that day, an alliance of necessity and mutual respect. Aiko Fubuki, the girl whose life had been defined by the capricious whims of luck, stepped into a new role. With Hope's Peak Academy and the Tokyo Police Department at her back, she was poised to confront her past and shape her destiny, no longer a pawn in the games of power but a key player in the search for justice.

As Aiko left the meeting, the weight of her new path settled upon her shoulders. The journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long time, she faced them not as a weapon of fate, but as a wielder of her own future.

A future she would use to destroy the steering committee and their allies at any cost.

Kisumi Musashi - Ultimate Movie Director

Kisumi Musashi. The Ultimate Movie Director. This fierce, independent young woman has helped crank out one box office smash right after the other. Genre doesn’t matter. Whether the series has been around for a while and she’s just now dipping into it doesn’t matter. Whether it barely got approved to be produced doesn’t matter. Kisumi will take any title and make something amazing out of it. This is done through her tireless research, keen intuition and masterful direction, and relentless devotion and dedication to the entertainment industry. But who is Kisumi Musashi? Where does this superstar of a director come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

When she was young, Kisumi’s parents died in an overseas plane crash. As a result, she went to live with her Uncle’s family – her Uncle being the CEO of a company called Natsuki Corporation. Her cousin, Tohru, came to be like a brother to her. And her Uncle Goro is more or less the father she’s always known, she wouldn’t trade him for the world… Even if it would have been nice to know her birth parents. Kisumi’s early childhood was peaceful and happy, attending a normal elementary school as opposed to one of the elite or being homeschooled; Uncle Goro believed in giving his kids perspective, to learn that despite their wealth they are not above the “common man.” The sooner they acquainted with and became friends with their classmates, the sooner they would learn about the struggles and pains that less well off families suffer through… And thus, they can strive to alleviate that suffering and create a better society through acts of kindness and generosity.

But it wasn’t long before Kisumi yearned for the silver screen. Or more accurately… The more she listened to Uncle Goro talk about what her parents did for a living, being a director and assistant director, and how they traveled the world to film movies… Kisumi just wanted to explore why her parents loved the entertainment industry. Wanted to understand them. If Uncle Goro went and saved a company from total collapse and turned it around so that the company helped so many people all around the world… and yet her parents settled for making movies… What made them passionate about something so selfish? Well. Kisumi thought they were selfish… After all, movie stars were often caught up in scandals, and there was so much dirt on other aspects of the industry… But Uncle Goro didn’t see it that way at all. He never criticized his brother when talking about “the good old days.” He encouraged Kisumi to have an open mind, that there was just as much value in creating and directing movies. People need entertainment to take their minds off of this cruel world.

So Uncle Goro supported Kisumi by sending her to study overseas. It was worlds apart from the normalcy she experienced up until then, and she had to learn English before going… But Kisumi did everything she needed to, listened to everything Uncle Goro had to say about her overseas studies. Not only did she want to learn what made her parents tick, why moviemaking was so important to them; Kisumi didn’t want to disappoint her Uncle or her cousin, who were both rooting for her. Kisumi would go on to complete her studies at a plucky young thirteen years old, having taken to the career of directing like a duck to water. During her time overseas, she was already helping to produce short films and documentaries with her classmates, and through her direction made the films very easy and pleasant on the eyes and ears. While she can never be sure that she knows for a fact how her parents felt while making movies, Kisumi did come to fall in love with the moviemaking process itself. Because… there’s an art to the whole thing.

The stories you want to tell, the lessons you want to impart… The actors that get picked, the location of filming, the budgets you have for props, costumes, and so many other things… Kisumi learned to make due with what they had, and still make stellar productions out of them that make more than enough money to compensate all the effort. Because just like the BBC’s sci-fi classic Doctor Who, you never truly know how big of a splash something can make until you release it. Something with humble beginnings can turn into something grandiose, so long as you pour all the love and attention you can into the production over time… Even if the studio itself is opposed or reluctant to what you’re making. Kisumi learned so much about various movie trends, about how to make productions marketable, and tips and tricks with how to handle the bigwigs who ultimately make the final call on whether or not you’re making the movies you propose.

In the end, Kisumi was told in her classes that she probably wouldn’t start out as a director. She’d probably be a production assistant or something way down the ladder like that… But Kisumi beat out all those expectations with her creative ingenuity and artistic direction. And above all her sheer force of will to become a director as soon as possible. Not because that’s what her parents became, not because of any family pride or arrogance on her part… But because she wanted to produce movies for her Uncle and cousin to view, back home. … Apparently Uncle Goro had fallen ill, and wasn’t able to take her calls halfway through her overseas studies; for the latter half, she only spoke with Tohru and confided in him about feeling a little homesick… But both of them felt that Kisumi needed to see this to the end, and Tohru just knew she would make Uncle Goro proud. At age thirteen, Kisumi returned home to Japan, and cranked up her moviemaking career to the max. Didn’t matter that she still had “regular school” to still complete, Kisumi had her dream job and wasn’t going to give it up for anything. Life at home with Tohru was… different. For some reason Uncle Goro was working longer hours at the office, and she never got to see him anymore. Tohru promised that his father was fine… that Kisumi didn’t need to worry.

They would both make the Old Man proud in their own ways; Tohru was set to succeed his father as the next CEO, and Kisumi became an esteemed movie director that was just getting started. Despite Tohru’s reassurances, Kisumi did worry about her Uncle… She wasn’t even allowed to see the Old Man’s bedroom anymore, or his study. She felt uneasy about it, like Tohru was hiding something… But she decided to put her faith in her brother-in-all-but-blood, and she poured all her efforts into what she studied her butt off for.

And two years later, when she entered high school… She had produced easily forty five different movies, short films, and documentaries. All of them were phenomenal, and the public loved them to bits. Kizakura noticed, of course, and extended the invite to Hope’s Peak. Kisumi was ecstatic to be recognized as the best director at her tender young age! … Tohru didn’t seem as… enthused, however. He was rather aloof when Kizakura came around to the house, and never removed that smiling mask that he wore out in public the past couple of years. Kizakura was rather curious about Tohru, something about the boy ringing vaguely familiar… But in the end, Tohru wouldn’t give Kizakura the time of day, and just urged Kisumi to pursue the path that she saw as fit for her dreams. Hope’s Peak was an institution like no other, yeah? Then Kisumi should just go for it if she was so inclined.

Baffled by Tohru’s cold shoulder, but otherwise happy to take up Kizakura’s invitation, Kisumi joined Hope’s Peak’s 74th Class. Her new classmates were rather eccentric, but still pretty impressive individuals overall. Sure, Kisumi was one of the more level-headed among them… But she could appreciate the passion they had in their respective careers. Upon graduating, Kisumi would continue successfully cranking out hit after hit, and she came to have pride as the “best” movie director… Because she worked hard for this dream. And she owed so much to Uncle Goro and Tohru…

Maemi Miyo - Ultimate Kendo Practitioner

In the tranquil dojo halls where the sound of clashing bamboo swords echoes like ancient war drums, Maemi Miyo stands almost invisible, her presence as silent as the falling snow. Yet, to underestimate her based on her delicate frame is to challenge the storm that brews beneath the calm surface. She is the whisper in the wind, the specter that haunts the dreams of seasoned kendo practitioners—she is the Ultimate Kendo Practitioner.

Maemi's journey began not with the roar of the crowd, but with the hushed reverence of those who bore witness to her talent. As a child, she was often overlooked, her small stature rendering her invisible among her more boisterous peers. But within the dojo, she was a force unrivaled, her shinai an extension of her will, her reflexes a blur to the naked eye. Opponents learned quickly that to dismiss her was to accept their swift defeat; her counterstrikes were as inevitable as they were imperceptible. But how exactly did she become the Ultimate Kendo Practitioner?

Under the eaves of an old, weathered dojo tucked away in a forgotten corner of Kyoto, Maemi Miyo found her first sanctuary. Her upbringing was unconventional; she was the only child of a lineage steeped in the art of the sword, but it was a lineage that had faded from public memory, its legacy confined to the dusty annals of history and the silent testament of ancient trophies lining the walls of their home.

Her father, a man of few words and disciplined action, was her first sensei. His teaching was strict, yet it flowed with the tenderness of a hidden stream. He saw in Maemi not just a daughter but the heir to a fading tradition, a living vessel for the resurgence of their family's honor. Her mother, equally skilled and even more enigmatic, wove tales of legendary samurai and kendo masters into the fabric of Maemi's childhood, her stories as much a part of Maemi's education as the katas she practiced from dawn until dusk.

Maemi's training began with the dawn, under the watchful gaze of her father, who was both sensei and mentor. In the still, chilly air of the dojo, where the scent of old tatami mats mingled with the crispness of the morning, she learned the ancient ways of the sword. Her father's methods were unorthodox, emphasizing not just the physical aspects of kendo but the mental and spiritual disciplines that underpinned them. He taught her to see the space between breaths, to find the silence amidst the noise, and to strike not when the moment presented itself, but to create the moment herself.

Her mother, meanwhile, taught her the history and soul of the blade. Every evening, as the dojo's lanterns cast long shadows on the wooden floor, Maemi would sit at her mother's feet, absorbing tales of legendary swordsmen and women whose spirits were said to live on in the blades they once wielded. Her mother's voice was soft but clear, weaving stories that were equal parts history and mythology, teaching Maemi that the essence of kendo was not in victory, but in the purity of every strike and defense, in the art of movement and stillness alike.

However It was during a local tournament that Maemi's talent truly unfolded before an audience. She was but a child, no more than ten, her stature diminutive, her presence almost negligible amidst the bustle of competitors. Her opponent was a local champion, a boy nearly twice her age and size, his confidence as conspicuous as Maemi's quietude. The match began, and the crowd's murmurs hushed in anticipation.

From the first strike, it was clear that Maemi was different. Her shinai seemed to whisper through the air, her steps a silent dance that anticipated her opponent's every move. The boy's strikes were powerful but predictable, and Maemi's counterattacks were whispers of wind that found their mark with a precision that seemed to bend the very air. The match was over in minutes, but the echo of her shinai's strikes rang much longer in the ears of those who witnessed her victory.

In the hushed circles of martial arts aficionados, Maemi's victory was not merely a win; it was the blooming of a legend. The small girl with the unassuming air and the piercing eyes had toppled a colossus with the ease of a seasoned master, her every move a poem written in the language of kendo. The word of her prowess traveled from the local dojo to regional competitions, and each retelling added to her mystique. She was the wraith of the kendo world, known to many by reputation, but truly understood by few.

As her renown in the kendo circles grew, so too did the audiences at her matches. They came not for the spectacle of violence, but to witness the elegance of her form, the serene composure with which she wielded her shinai, and the almost preternatural intuition that seemed to guide her movements. Yet, amidst this burgeoning fame within her discipline, Maemi's daily life remained untouched by her growing legend.

At school, Maemi was a wisp of a presence, her small frame and quiet demeanor rendering her all but invisible in the boisterous corridors and crowded classrooms. She drifted through the academic routine like a ghost, observed by few, her mind often elsewhere, lost in the strategies and philosophies of her next training session. Her peers, unaware of the fierce spirit that lay behind her passive exterior, seldom engaged her, and she, in turn, made no move to dispel the veil of obscurity that shrouded her school days.

To Maemi, the dichotomy between her life in the dojo and at school was stark but comfortable. In the world of kendo, she was a revered figure, a prodigy who spoke through her actions rather than her words. In school, she was just another face in the crowd, one more student in a sea of uniforms and youthful ambition. This anonymity afforded her a certain peace, a sanctuary from the pressures of her talent and the expectations that came with it.

Yet, even within the tranquility of her dual existence, there was an undercurrent of conflict that Maemi could not ignore. As she grew older, the disparity between her silent school life and her celebrated kendo persona began to chafe. There was a part of her that yearned to merge these two halves of her life, to be seen and known for who she truly was, not just in the dojo, but in every aspect of her existence.

The conflict came to a head during a regional kendo championship, where Maemi, as always, had silently cut her way through the competition. It was there, amidst the thunderous applause of the crowd, that she caught sight of her classmates in the audience. Their eyes wide with surprise and admiration, they finally saw the 'myth' in their midst, the 'ghost' of their classrooms wielding her shinai with a master's grace.

The revelation was a catalyst for Maemi. The following school days were marked by a subtle shift. Her classmates, now aware of her talent, approached her with a mixture of curiosity and awe. They asked questions, they whispered about her matches, they no longer passed her by without a second glance. For Maemi, this new attention was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. She found herself at a crossroads, unsure of how to reconcile her newfound visibility with her love for the solitude and anonymity she had always known.

As the days passed, Maemi's internal struggle did not go unnoticed by her mother, who had always been a quiet source of strength and wisdom. Her mother, a woman of poise and understanding, had watched her daughter tread the fine line between anonymity and acclaim with a knowing eye. She knew all too well the Hoshina clan's teachings—pride in one's skills, yes, but never a boastful display for mere attention. They were a family that found honor in the shadows, their achievements whispered like legends, never shouted for the world to hear.

One evening, as the afterglow of sunset bathed their traditional home in a warm light, her mother spoke. "Maemi, your heart is like the river—it seeks its own path, sometimes quiet and hidden, sometimes wide and open for all to see," she said, her voice as gentle as the breeze that rustled the leaves in their garden.

Maemi listened, her eyes reflecting the turmoil that had been her constant companion of late.

"In the dojo, you are the myth, the master whose actions speak her legacy. In school, you are the ghost, content to watch and observe. But remember, both are you, and both have their place," her mother continued, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Maemi's ear.

"But, mother, isn't it the Hoshina way to remain humble, to shun the spotlight?" Maemi asked, seeking clarity.

Her mother smiled, a soft curve of understanding. "True humility is knowing your worth without proclaiming it. It is not about hiding your light—it's about shining it where it will guide and inspire. You come from a lineage of warriors who knew when to step into the light and when to blend with the night. Your struggle, my child, is the same as theirs. The same struggle I once had and I made a choice that…..had consequences. But I would make theat same choice again in a heartbeat."

Those words struck a chord within Maemi. She realized then that her legacy was not a chain but a tapestry, a rich history of choices and chances. Her mother's words gave her a new perspective, one that allowed her to see her talent not as a burden to be hidden or a trophy to be flaunted, but as a gift to be used wisely.

As Maemi's confidence grew and her talents continued to flourish, the whispers of her prowess in the kendo world began to reach further than the dojo's walls. Her skill with the shinai had always been remarkable, but now there was a newfound resolve in her eyes, a determination that spoke of a deeper understanding and acceptance of her dual nature. It was during the national kendo championships, a tournament watched not just by enthusiasts but by talent scouts from various disciplines, that Maemi truly shone.

During the finals, Maemi faced an opponent known for his aggressive tactics and daunting presence. As the match commenced, the crowd expected a swift defeat for the small, unassuming girl before them. However, Maemi stood her ground with an unshakeable calm. Each attack from her opponent was not only deftly countered, but used as a stepping stone, guiding her to the next strike. Her movements were a blur, each step and swing carried out with a precision that seemed almost preternatural. The match ended with Maemi's victory, her shinai poised gracefully as her opponent's bamboo sword clattered to the floor, his ambitions alongside it.

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound filling the arena with an intensity that mirrored the shock and awe written across the faces of all who had witnessed the upset. But among the audience was Koichi Kizakura, whose knowing smile was tinged with excitement. He had been following Maemi's journey, intrigued by the tales of the 'ghost' who could best any challenger with her almost supernatural reflexes. He saw in her not just a master of kendo, but the embodiment of potential that Hope's Peak Academy sought—the potential to inspire, to lead, and to redefine what it meant to be a practitioner of the ancient art.

Koichi approached Maemi after the tournament, his trademark hat tipped in respect. "Maemi Miyo, your skill is the talk of the town, and your spirit, the inspiration of many," he began, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of having discovered a rare talent. "Hope's Peak Academy would be honored to have you walk its halls as the Ultimate Kendo Practitioner."

Maemi, taken aback by the sudden offer, hesitated. The academy was a place of prestige, but also one that had seemed distant, almost untouchable. Yet, here was an invitation, an acknowledgment of her skill and her dedication to her craft.

"What would I do there?" Maemi inquired, her voice barely above a whisper but clear in the silent moment that followed her question.

Koichi leaned forward slightly, understanding the weight of her question. "At Hope's Peak, you'd be more than just a student. You'd be a living testament to the art of kendo," he said earnestly. "You would train, yes, but also inspire. You could research the depths of martial arts, delve into its history and philosophy, and perhaps even instruct those willing to learn from the best."

Maemi's gaze held steady, considering the depth of what Koichi was offering. The prospect of furthering her understanding of kendo, of exploring its roots and imparting its essence to others, was more than just an educational opportunity—it was a calling.

"And it's not just about kendo," Koichi added, sensing her interest. "It's about finding where your talent takes you, about pushing the boundaries of what you know. You'll meet others with talents as unique and profound as yours, engage with minds that challenge and complement your own."

Maemi felt a spark ignite within her, a flame fanned by the promise of new challenges and the pursuit of knowledge. Hope's Peak Academy was offering her a path she had never contemplated, a chance to step out from the silent echoes of her dojo and into a world where her talent could truly flourish.

"I will accept your invitation," Maemi finally said, her voice still quiet but imbued with a new strength. "I wish to see where this journey leads, to understand the true potential of my talent."

Koichi's smile broadened, "Welcome to Hope's Peak, Maemi Miyo. Your journey is just beginning, and I have a feeling it will be one for the history books."

With her acceptance, Maemi Miyo prepared to enter a new stage of her life, one filled with the promise of growth and the allure of the unknown. As she walked away from the dojo that day, with the invitation from Hope's Peak Academy in hand, she felt the quiet strength of her resolve settle around her like armor. She was ready to face whatever came next.

Momoka Saitou - Ultimate Secretary

In the veiled corridors of power where decisions are made with a whisper and a nod, Momoka Saitou mastered the art of influence. As the Ultimate Secretary, she became the custodian of secrets, the silent engine behind the thrones of authority. But to understand her ascension to this pivotal role, one must trace the roots back to her upbringing—a tapestry of discipline, observation, and the subtle art of discretion.

Momoka's childhood was steeped in the tradition of service and support. Born to a family of dedicated civil servants, she was brought up with the ethos that the greatest impact is often wrought from the shadows. While other children played boisterously, Momoka observed. She listened. She learned. Her parents, working within the intricate bureaucracy of government, taught her the value of information—how it could be both shield and sword.

Her home was a revolving door of dignitaries and officials, each carrying the burden of their office. Momoka watched her mother, a paragon of a secretary, manage this world with an effortless grace. She saw how her mother's gentle suggestions could alter the course of discussions, how her careful arrangements could set the stage for successful negotiations, and how her discreet whispers could defuse the ticking time bombs of political intrigue.

Under her mother's tutelage, Momoka became adept at reading the room, understanding the unspoken needs of those she served. She became a young apprentice in the art of facilitation, honing skills that would define her future. Her parents instilled in her the belief that true power does not roar; it whispers. Yet, the very skills that made her indispensable in the halls of power also cast a widening gap between her and her peers. In the boisterous anarchy of school life, Momoka's reserved and observational nature made her a target. The bullying was subtle at first, a nudge here, a whisper there, but it grew bolder with each passing day.

However, Momoka was her mother's daughter, not just in skill but in spirit. She observed the bullies as she would any political adversary—studying their habits, their motivations, their allies. Armed with this knowledge, she began to apply her craft, using her wits and words to sow discord among them, turning their alliances inside out without a single raised voice or accusation. Her methods were a testament to her training: a rumor planted here, a schedule altered there, a misplaced item that only she could gracefully recover. She became a ghost in the system, orchestrating a silent campaign that disarmed her aggressors one by one. To the bullies, it seemed as if their own shadows turned against them, their confidence eroding with every step that backfired, every plan that unraveled.

In the end, the bullies found themselves isolated, their schemes undone by an invisible hand. They couldn't pinpoint how or when the tide had turned, but they felt the unmistakable presence of Momoka's influence in every misstep they took. The corridors they once prowled with impunity now whispered with the echoes of their faltered reign. They were afraid, not of retribution or confrontation, but of the silent sentinel that was Momoka—the girl who spoke softly and needed no stick. At least not yet.

However In the world of secretarial arts, Momoka Saitou's name resonated with a quiet power. Her skills were not merely about organization and efficiency; they were about intuition and the subtle art of influence. Her rise to prominence began with the cultural exchange project, but that was only the opening act of what would become a storied journey through the annals of administration. Momoka's projects were as varied as they were challenging. She coordinated international conferences, where she bridged the gaps between cultures with a grace that belied her years. She orchestrated charity galas, turning potential disasters into evenings of splendor and success. She even managed political campaigns for student council elections, turning underdogs into leaders with her strategic planning and insightful advice.

Her methods were a blend of modern efficiency and old-world diplomacy. She utilized technology to track progress and communicate, but it was her personal touch that ensured the success of her endeavors. Momoka had an uncanny ability to remember details about people, from their favorite drinks to their children's birthdays, and she used this knowledge to foster relationships and build networks of loyalty and respect. Her prominence as a secretary was marked by her unique approach to problem-solving. She never tackled issues head-on but rather worked from the shadows, moving pieces into place with such subtlety that solutions seemed to arise naturally. People began to speak of problems disappearing "the Momoka way"—a phrase that denoted an issue resolved so smoothly that it was as if it had never existed.

One of her most notable successes was the revitalization of an ailing student organization. The group had been floundering, its members disengaged, and its purpose unclear. Momoka stepped in as an advisor, and within months, the organization was not only thriving but had become a cornerstone of the school's extracurricular activities. She achieved this by carefully restructuring the organization, empowering members to take on meaningful roles, and aligning their activities with their passions and the school's goals. Her achievements as a secretary did not go unnoticed. As her reputation grew, so did the opportunities presented to her. She was sought after by the highest echelons of the school's administration, her advice and expertise valued by teachers and students alike. Momoka had become an indispensable asset to her school, her signature blend of quiet confidence and decisive action becoming the hallmark of her storied career.

However It was during the preparations for an international student symposium that Momoka's skills caught the eye of Hope's Peak Academy. The event was a massive undertaking, involving delegates from schools across the globe, and the smooth execution of the symposium was nothing short of a miracle. Momoka's behind-the-scenes work ensured that every detail was accounted for, every contingency planned for, and every participant felt heard and valued. Koichi Kizakura, in attendance to scout for potential talents, was astounded by the seamless flow of the event. He recognized the hallmarks of an exceptional secretary—the ability to predict problems before they arose, the capacity to communicate across barriers, and the foresight to weave a safety net so tight that nothing could fall through.

Kizakura with his knack for spotting the extraordinary in the sea of the mundane, approached her with an offer cloaked in the promise of potential and growth. "At Hope's Peak," he explained, "you'll find challenges worthy of your skills and a community that will value your unique capabilities. You're not just a mediator or a problem solver, Momoka—you're a visionary in your field."

Momoka's reaction was one of measured contemplation. She was no stranger to accolades or recognition, but this was an offer of a different caliber. It spoke not just to her abilities, but to her aspirations, her latent desire to expand her horizons beyond the familiar walls of her current life. Her parents, ever supportive, noticed the flicker of excitement in Momoka's usually impassive demeanor. "Momoka," her father said with a gentle firmness, "this could be the path to realizing your dreams, to broadening the scope of your talents." Her mother added, "We've always known that your potential was bound for greater stages. Hope's Peak could be that stage."

The notion of dreams was something Momoka rarely dwelled on, her focus always on the task at hand. Yet, deep down, she harbored visions of orchestrating events on a grander scale, of being the unseen hand that guided the course of crucial conversations and decisions. Perhaps even of the government of Japan itself. Hope's Peak, with its myriad of talents and its pulsating heart of opportunity, was a place where dreams didn't just whisper—they sang.

With the full support of her parents and the promise of a new horizon ahead, Momoka accepted the invitation from Hope's Peak Academy. Her acceptance was not a loud declaration of ambition, but a quiet acknowledgment of the new journey she was about to embark on. She understood that the academy was not just a stepping stone, but a place that could transform the whispers of her dreams into the actions of change.

As she walked through the imposing gates of Hope's Peak, a soft determination settled within her. Here, within these walls, she would not only apply her skills but refine them. She would navigate the complex web of interpersonal relations, cement her role as a master mediator and secretary, and perhaps, in the process, discover new facets of her own identity.

Natalie Murasaki - Ultimate Sheriff

Natalie Murasaki. The Ultimate Sheriff. This feisty, spunky young woman sports the highest arrest rate for any female police officer in western Japan. … And the interesting tidbit? Aside from a few particularly tricky cases involving multiple criminals or yakuza, Natalie is known for bringing in the perpetrators on her own merits. Her own efforts. This has led this remarkable young woman to be a particularly skilled combatant, insofar as neutralizing crooks without killing them. For Natalie Murasaki, ensuring that everyone follows the law is of the highest importance; she HATES injustice and tragedies… Still, this is what everyone knows about Natalie Murasaki these days. Who is she, really? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Natalie was born and raised in Kobe, Japan. The mountain ranges framing the harbor of Osaka Bay; Ikuta Shrine; the outdoor hotsprings of Arima Onsen; and even the antiquated cable cars that take people up to Mt. Rokko for a panoramic view of the port… All these things and many more became areas that Natalie knew like the back of her hand. Marble steak is her favorite grub, and she fell in love with her hometown and all the people in it.

Her parents were a part of Kobe’s police department… Albeit they were on the lower rungs of the ladder, usually handling smalltime affairs and paperwork. Because they worked so often, Natalie was more or less raised by her older brother, Yu. He had about ten years on her in age, and still he was Natalie’s best friend. From early on, Natalie recognized he was as tough as nails, but the biggest part about him was his heart. After he skipped a couple grades in high school, he got on a fast track for becoming a teacher… And Natalie was just in awe of how passionate and fulfilled he seemed, living his dream. Yu believed that his students loved him just as much as he loved them, that they all had bright futures…

Unfortunately for Yu, teaching wasn’t meant to last. A few years into his career, a particularly nasty instance of bullying occurred under his watch. Yu was idealistic, he thought that it was just kids being kids, that it was just horseplay; after all, he had a kid sister that meant the world to him. Kids could be misguided, but they knew not to go too far. … But it wasn’t horseplay. Not this time. Several students in his homeroom bullied a boy enough that he eventually leaped off the school’s roof. A girl in his homeroom warned Yu what was going on, chastised him for being so blind… And he didn’t realize until that boy jumped off the roof and ended up in a coma. Yu was then dismissed from teaching, on account of being made a scapegoat so that the school would survive past this incident. Yu didn’t try to fight it; he was wracked with guilt and bitterness for failing his students, and he was left not knowing what to do in the aftermath. Where to go from there… Though he seemed to find SOMETHING, because soon enough he was coming home a lot less to take care of Natalie… And he wouldn't open up about his new career, especially not about why he seemed so exhausted coming home at nights…

Natalie was devastated about what happened to her brother. Not only because of all the unjust court proceedings that framed him as a callous, heartless monster… But the act of bullying itself. That it had gotten that bad. Her brother’s students betrayed him, and she began fostering a deep resentment for bullies in general… What was the point of picking on someone weaker than you? No. She had that backwards. Because the bullies had to act as a unified unit to bully that one boy, just to feel good about themselves or whatever it might be… THEY were lesser than that one boy. Was it an inferiority complex?

Natalie honestly stopped caring about the why’s. Yu got screwed over because of something so stupid, so cruel, and she wanted to keep something like this from ever happening again. So shortly after her eleventh birthday… Natalie began doing her own research into nefarious activity around Kobe with all of her newfound free time. The thing about having an awesome older brother like Yu is that Natalie was learning to spar with him from an early age; it was more of a free style, but the base of it is Southern Kung Fu. Yu wouldn’t teach her everything that he knew, but he did want Natalie to be able to stand on her own and defend herself.

…And well. Natalie decided defending herself just wasn’t good enough. She needed to defend everyone that she could. So trailing the traitorous, bullying students, Natalie began learning about yakuza connections, the filthy “underground” of Kobe. Natalie wasn’t strong enough to make the courts decide to give her brother his teaching position back, but she could force these traitors and yakuza to face justice. So after beating them up and WINNING, miraculously enough, Natalie turned the whole bunch of crooks over to the Kobe police department…

Naturally, her parents were appalled, aghast that their daughter had done something so dangerous… They were on the verge of giving both her and Yu a serious tongue lashing – Yu was just as floored that Natalie had taken the initiative like that, having to come home early from his new job to get lectured about leaving Natalie out of his sight. But soon after those perpetrators were hauled into the station, the Chief of Police, a distant acquaintance of Damon Gant, stopped her parents from punishing Natalie too harshly for what she did… Yes, it was reckless. And they would rather leave this dangerous business to the professionals… But this Chief had known Damon from long ago. Knew how he started out. He could see that same fire and resolve in Natalie, and didn’t feel it was worth snuffing out that potential.

From that day on, Natalie was drafted into the police training program, under the Chief’s careful guidance. And she defied all expectations, not only managing to breeze through the training but also wrangle more crooks on the streets while she was at it, and still attend school to boot. Natalie was a go-getter, and over the next four years she both rose through the ranks and arrested quite a few perpetrators with her own two hands. To the point of earning the highest arrest rate… at her tender young age, no less!

Around the time Natalie was breezing through the academy, Yu expressed concern that his little sister was going way too fast. Their parents might not be able to object too much because she has the Chief's backing, but Yu knows the sorts of vile people Natalie's pursuing at the risk of her young life. Yu also knew that just talking to her would result in butting heads with her, and showing off more of his techniques through subsequent spars that would ensue. He knew his sister like the back of his hand, stubborn as one of those bulls she loved to watch in those cheesy Western flicks…

So Yu formulated a plan to make Natalie back down. Through connections at his new workplace, Yu hired a small group of masked men to ambush him and Natalie while they went out to see a movie; Yu knew how tough these men were because he had trained this security team personally. They all worked for the same corporation, after all. One ambush later, with Yu purposely throwing the "fight" to get taken "hostage" - leading to an ultimatum for Natalie to back down and quit the police lifestyle. It was Yu's hope that by overwhelming Natalie in quantity as well as quality, she would just go back to a normal, carefree life…

…Unfortunately, Yu underestimated Natalie's tenacity. He should have known better… Because he had the same unwavering justice, lurking deep inside. Through clever use of her environment, Natalie distracted the "hostage-taker" before KOing him brutally, followed by taking out the whole security team. By the end, Natalie was exhausted, barely standing straight, but she managed to beat the seemingly insurmountable odds.

Yu had to face facts. Whether he liked it or not, his sister had grown up. She had used his pain, his anguish, his guilt, his self-loathing… And Natalie used that to give her purpose. Even though she was just a kid, even though he'd grown more distant because of his new career as part security guard, part handyman for this rival corporation that was going toe-to-toe with the Togami conglomerate, and even the Kamukura's couldn't take them lightly… Yu had been spending all this time using this corporation's resources and personnel to dish out justice in his own way… Even if it entered some gray territories of the law… All to address the issue of bullies.

And in having such tunnel vision… Yu missed out on the effect his pain was having on Natalie. How it was fueling her to be such a strong, independent girl. … She didn't need to go so far for him. Yu was used to cleaning up his own messes as the dependable older brother… Still, Natalie had come this far. And she was going through more proper channels to deal with bullies, as opposed to his… methods. Yu was so close to going through with some really illegal crap, the planning was nearly done, but now that he's seen his baby sister take out a whole security team that HE trained… Yu can't keep pretending his imouto is completely removed from this crappy side of life. Seeing the worst parts of humanity… She's way too young to be dealing with this, but Yu can't deny she's capable.

So Yu took her home, after tuckering herself out. He carried her piggyback style like he had years ago, and they had a heart-to-heart. Natalie whined about needing to haul in the masked men, but Yu consoled her and promised he'd handle it. There was no need too shatter her rosy-glasses view of him, so he kept the fact that they were just his coworkers, that the whole thing was staged to make her back down… he kept that to himself. Natalie could just take pride in the fact that she had protected him, and had earned a good rest. Yu isn't sure what he'll do moving forward… Maybe draw up new plans. Because… if he carried on like he wanted to, Yu knew that Natalie might have to bring him in one day. … And he didn't want to shred her heart to pieces like that.

He couldn't give up on his ambitions either, however. Whatever the future held… He had powerful allies and unwavering justice in his veins. Yu wouldn't cause his baby sister grief over his life decisions, but he would still do things his own way. So after dropping her off at home, Yu left her a note. Through it, he told her that he wouldn't be coming home for a while… His new job was pretty important, and he could tell that Natalie was making great progress without him as a crutch. He told her not to worry about him, that she had already avenged him by arresting those bullies from his old homeroom… Natalie should live her own life. And if that led to a pursuit of justice… Well, Yu would respect her choice. Just be happy, and only take risks if she's SURE that she can pull through. Yu is proud of her… That's never in question.

Natalie woke up to find that note, and would go on to continue her training, gaining notoriety with her high arrest rate. And citizens all over Kobe and neighboring towns would come to love and respect her as the youngest police officer in the nation. Naturally, the Chief passed along to Damon the new rookie that had amazing potential, and Damon kept a pretty sharp eye on her progress. Eventually, Natalie was recognized as one of the Chief of Kobe PD’s best operatives, nearly second-in-command to him. Despite being a kid, she had authority as an officer of the law, and never abused it despite how recklessly she chases after criminals… Natalie knows the law by heart, but when it comes to the pursuit of justice, she will run off on her own to ensure justice is carried out. She has the training from both the police and Yu under her belt, and she quickly learned how to look out for criminal activity… Natalie might be taking big gambles, but she was a ”Sheriff” in her own right.

Hence, when she reached high school, she got approached by Damon and Kizakura to invite her to Hope’s Peak, where she could accelerate her potential as an officer of the law even more. Natalie was ecstatic, and Yu was happy enough for his little sister, hearing about her acceptance to that prestigious academy… even if he did constantly stress over her biting off more than she can chew.

But she’s Natalie Murasaki~… And she’ll be fine. As worried as he might feel at times, Yu believes in her. Always.

Personality wise though, Natalie is a girl that can't sit still. When she personally witnesses bullying or other crimes, she's the first to leap into action. She won't always tackle the problems head-on, but that's her preferred approach as opposed to waiting for "permission". Natalie is the type to hate protocol if it prolongs suffering and injustice, hence her rebellious streak when jumping into the fray. … Although Natalie does despise paperwork and leaves that to her coworkers whenever possible.

When it comes to stuff besides police work… Natalie enjoys westerns, shootout flicks, Kobe's marble steak specialty, and learning and using cowgirl lingo in her everyday language. She also regularly dresses up as a cowgirl sheriff - hat, ascot, suspenders… She even has a sheriff's badge, which she received for her efforts in arresting criminals.

Of course… Natalie's deep sense of justice does distance herself from her schoolmates because of how passionate she is and how clearly she beats up bullies at their elementary/middle school growing up. Natalie herself wants to make friends with everyone, but they aren't eager to reciprocate with how easily she can beat them up at the drop of a hat, for just about any reason she wants. Of course, Natalie only ever attacks bullies… But there's nothing to say that'll never change. Aside from her ability to never lose a scrap, her Western-centric habits and fashion also put people off.

This isn't to say Natalie doesn't have any friends… She's just not very popular. … Even though she deals with bullies and speaks out against them, when the rest of them won't because of basic society etiquette. The friends she does have, they value her standing up for the meek and helpless. … Though they wish she'd be more careful. They also know of her older brother, and how kind he is to everyone; how Natalie picks up most of her Western aesthetic/tastes from Yu, and learned how to fight from him.

Still… It's not until Hope's Peak where Natalie finds people just as eccentric as her. And even fellow officer types, such as Ikue. … Not that Natalie and Ikue's ideologies line up very cleanly. (人◕ω◕);;;

Rika Hinami - Ultimate Engineer

Rika Hinami. The Ultimate Engineer. This down-to-earth, level-headed woman is famous for developing a heater technology that is both efficient and eco-friendly. But that single invention is hardly the extent of her talents; it’s simply what she’s known far and wide for. Rika-san is annoyed that her brilliance isn’t better recognized by society… But perhaps her cavalier attitude towards others, her “laziness” as some people may define it, plays into her subdued notoriety. But who is Rika Hinami? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Rika was born to a pair of corporate executives in the Fuji Bank chain, which is the successor to the Yasuda zaibatsu. They deal largely in recruitment and management, which helped shape Rika’s personality. Because… Rika would ditch school whenever she could. And where would she go? She would tail her parents to their workplace and secretly watch them throughout the day, conducting interviews, performance reviews, and so much more. To any other child, this would have been the most boring, most anticlimactic thing to do with free time… But to Rika? A pencil-pushing management desk job was heaven. You got to sit around for most of your shift, some menial work here and there, and boss others around. What’s not to love about an easygoing life like that?! As the daughter to not one, but TWO executives of Fuji Bank, it’s not as if any of the employees would ever snitch if they caught her ghosting her parents’ workplace. She was essentially “royalty”. Still, despite her admiration of such a job… Rika-chan knew that to get there, she would have to go through A LOT of schooling and putting in effort that she wasn’t necessarily willing to give… Because after all, like most kids, who LIKED going to school to learn? It’s not an issue of understanding the material.

Not for Rika-chan. School came TOO easily for her; she completed the semester’s assignments way ahead of time, and then only went to class for tests. … Because apparently the secret deals she was making with teachers to let her escape classes couldn’t cover those. Annoying, but Rika-chan vaguely understood (even at her young age) there was limits to how much she could cheat the system. So after a year or two of watching her parents and coming to the crushing understanding that she would have to APPLY herself to get to where they were… Rika-chan gave up her dreams on a corporate management position. Because screw effort~…

That left Rika-chan with an awful lot of free time, though. Sure, while brainstorming ideas for killing time, Rika-chan wound up effortlessly completing classwork a couple years ahead of her current studies. The work wasn’t that hard; she was beginning to understand the general flow of education in most subjects. Anything she didn’t immediately get, she just accessed the internet to fill those gaps. Before long, she had an Associate’s Degree’s worth of education under her belt at the age of ten. Not bad, but such a degree would only get her basic jobs where she’d have to work… So Rika-chan dabbled in a few different things until she found that, subconsciously, she developed a fascination with engineering. Tinkering with machines… Applying her imagination and knowledge to designs, improving on already existing designs…

One day, a schoolmate who was curious about why she was rarely in school approached her at home, and Rika-chan was discovered installing a sublevel to her parent’s garage. … Because Rika just knew that they wouldn’t be too happy if she used their garage as a workshop. So she rigged up some machines to dig below the earth below the garage and get it all re-cemented before her parents got home that evening. Rika barely had to do a thing. Her schoolmate was in awe of what she was doing, and asked how this was all achieved; the poor girl was overwhelmed as Rika launched into a droll explanation of how her digging machines operated, where she acquired the parts (mostly from junkyards, because she refused to use her parents’ money, and she refused to work for her own money unless absolutely necessary), how many weeks it took to put this all together… By the end, the schoolmate’s head was spinning, and Rika-chan was just standing there nonchalantly like it was no big deal. … Because it wasn’t. Rika had this much free time, and furthered her studies to such an extent. Still, the fact Rika was this amazing with inventing, it gave the schoolmate hope that maybe Rika could help fix her bike, which was pretty banged up . Rika wasn’t exactly thrilled to be asked to do something… But with how crestfallen her schoolmate seemed at Rika’s initial refusal of the request… Rika grudgingly agreed that her machines could continue their work without much fuss, and she had the time to look at the bike… even if she knew crap all about them. Right away, the young prodigy could tell what the problems were with the bike, despite that lack of knowledge. After some quick research into bike maintenance and repair, Rika determined it would be more cost effective to just purchase a new bike… Unfortunately, the schoolmate’s family had a low income, and they just weren’t in a position for that, hence the schoolmate was hoping it could be fixed instead. Rika still wasn’t thrilled about the hoops she’d have to jump through to get this bike repaired… But if it’d stop the girl from bawling like a baby, Rika would do it. She’d whine, but she’d do it.

A couple days later, Rika had the schoolmate come down to her new workshop, which her parents still didn’t know about, and had the schoolmate try out her newly modified bike. Not only could it go much faster, but it was easier to brake and steer the thing. The schoolmate was in awe, and thanked Rika over and over, but Rika just waved her off. It wasn’t that hard, and she even liked improving on the bike’s design after overcoming the initial repairs.

After that single request, Rika’s name started getting passed around at school. To her ire, more schoolmates came over to ask her to take a look at and repair certain things in or around their homes… Toasters, TV’s, showers, video game consoles, A/C units, heating units… Rika couldn’t fix EVERYTHING, some stuff fell under the purview of plumbers and electricians. Still, she got exposed to a variety of everyday appliances, and now she was getting PAID for these jobs… Most of the time, anyway. Whenever they weren’t lower income like that first “client”. It annoyed Rika to be approached so often, but she was slowly and surely becoming known as a “handyman” around her school and neighborhood. As stupid as all the new work was to her, it still allowed her to flex her engineering muscles and expand her knowledge base. By age thirteen, she finally developed her own patented heating system. … Because winters were cold around where she lived, and she wanted her damn house to not be so frigid. Her parents rarely kicked oo the heating because they were concerned about affecting the environment… Well, Rika worked around those concerns, and gave all three of them a toasty home to be in, and it wouldn’t even add that much to their bills. It didn’t take long for Rika’s heater to be discovered by her schoolmates, however; enough of them came around and asked why it felt so NICE inside Rika’s home… And to her chagrin, word got around to a few heating companies in Japan, and they began clamoring for her designs. … She didn’t like selling out to the greedy sonuvabitches… But then, they did offer her a fair chunk of money. And she saw no reason why she couldn’t sell to multiple companies to get that much more money for herself. Sure, that meant having to tweak her designs to make new and yet still eco-friendly designs… But Rika did it. Several times over.

Rika skated by in middle school, taking on various jobs as the “handyman” of Yokohama. School was a non-issue, and she was learning plenty through her budding engineer side business. Eventually, Koichi Kizakura came calling when he caught wind of her brilliance. … Though he was quite frank with her: Despite some people talking about her, Rika really wasn’t as famous as she believed she was. Rika was frankly a rare find for Kizakura; a kid that kept her head low and just took whatever jobs came her way. In fact, because of her lack of presence at school, Kizakura almost missed her altogether as he pored through various school rosters. Rika didn’t care very much if she was renowned or not; her ultimate dream was still to take it easy and work as little as possible… She pretty much turned down the Hope’s Peak gig, because she just didn’t have the DRIVE to be the best… Hope’s Peak would just heap more and more expectations on her shoulders, and Rika wanted to stay FAR away from that…

But Kizakura isn’t a quitter. He knows untapped talent when he sees it, and despite resonating with her in terms of taking it easy… The man appealed to Rika’s love for her craft. If she attended Hope’s Peak, she wouldn’t have to sift through and pilfer junkyards for supplies. She’d have access to top-of-the-line materials and equipment, at no cost to her. Hope’s Peak basically cut blank checks to all of its students, all in the pursuit of the study of talent. … Rika didn’t like Kizakura going for the jugular like that, but if she could cut out the middleman that was the smelly junkyards… Well, she grudgingly accepted the invitation. Not before forcing Kizakura through an unnecessary “interview” to confirm some things about attending Hope’s Peak… Still, by the end, Rika just went with the flow, and got set up with a new workshop on campus.

To Rika’s irritation, she got dragged into attending classes and doing activities with schoolmates.. But she made sure to hit them up with “interviews” and “performance reviews” whenever they really got on her nerves. Never let it be said that Rika Hinami can’t hold a grudge~… She’s very petty. And gets very sore if you force her to work too much~… She would rather be left alone to her workshop in peace, and get paid for jobs, than attend class. Because high school education isn’t something she needs; she’s already got a Master’s Degree in Engineering worth of education by the time she got invited to Hope’s Peak. … Too bad her schoolmates don’t see it that way…

Saori Aisaka - Ultimate Cheerleader

Saori Aisaka. The Ultimate Cheerleader. Her family's motto is, "Anything is possible for an Aisaka!" It's a saying that has empowered Saori through many hardships in her cheerleading career… Because as much as people like to assume it's all sunshine and rainbows, cheerleading is pretty similar to pop idols in how girls can be cruel and cutthroat. Do anything to get ahead. … But this has never been Saori's style. In her eyes, if you stoop so low to sabotage to compete, you've already lost the battle. Because you can't handle your rivals at their best, and that just means you don't believe in the team you're cheering for. This idealistic mindset of hers has inspired many girls, both on her cheerleading squads and even girls all over the nation.

This positivity has even led Saori's teams to conquer national championships several times… Her middle school were undefeated champions in cheerleading with Saori's leadership and guidance, and she's gone on to raise up several cheerleading squads from Hope's Peak, and once she graduated she went on to lead college and university cheer squads… She goes from one university to the next each semester to stir up friendly competitive spirit and make each team feel like they can do anything. Still, as capable as this phenomenal young woman is, who is Saori Aisaka? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Saori was born to a pair of researchers that work for the curious Natsuki Corporation. A few years before Saori was born, the company was saved from declaring bankruptcy, and has since risen up to become an entity that can go toe-to-toe with the Togami's, the Kamukura's, and other such big superpowers. But Natsuki won't sell out to those rival corporations, will not kneel to them or bend to their whims; Natsuki Corp has this mysterious ironclad will behind it that even the EOS Institute has been forced to recognize in recent years. Natsuki appears to have an interest in making a number of products that make everyday life more convenient and fulfilling. From cars, to clothes dryers, to remote--controlled robots that can entertain the kids, to miracle drugs… To so much more. Natsuki Corp covers a lot of bases. Saori's parents are a part of separate research teams, but they seem to have the time every morning and evening to spend time as a family with Saori. Whether it's just one or both of them.

Saori loves her family a lot, as such… As well as Natsuki Corp. Because it's a company unlike almost any other - it's a company that values the employees and their families. After a thorough interview and screening process, they determine if the families applying to work for them are healthy or if there's abuse or any other underlying issues lurking beneath the surface. If there IS abuse, Natsuki spares money and resources to provide counseling to improve the quality of those families' lives. That's why Saori's family's situation isn't so special; Natsuki values ALL of its employees. Her parents making time to be with her is just a sign that the company's interests and values are working. Treat the employees well, as the people they are, and you'll inspire loyalty. Saori and her parents have had no reason to doubt Natsuki Corp; it's like a dream company to work for.

Because of how well her life is at home, Saori has been a rather positive, upbeat, likeable individual ever since she was young. She's not EVERYONE'S friend, but she can be ANYONE'S friend if they're willing. Of course… With how "perfect" she seems on the surface, Saori has garnered a number of people that dislike her outright and suspect she has a darker side, spreading vicious rumors about her and her family… Saori was never the type to attack people in return or even just confront them about the pervasive rumors… No, in Saori's mind all she can do is prove the rumors wrong. To be the best person she can be, even on her bad or off days… And so, the best way she found to do that is to take up cheerleading. Because cheering isn't for her sake; it's to show school spirit and support her friends. And even support the people spreading rumors about her.

Saori first joined the cheer squad at eight years old. Elementary school didn't give her much exposure to how "savage" cheerleading could get, how cruel girls could be… But it was a good time to be introduced to the after school hobby, to begin to learn the routines and learn the value of teamwork and building one another up. Because of this bright and shiny beginning, Saori carried this idealism over into middle school where things started to get more fierce. Their upperclassmen began fostering a competitive edge into Saori's friends, but the aggressiveness never stuck with Saori. So when one of her best friends began disparaging a rival school, Saori had a heart-to-heart with her about it, right out in the open in front of everyone. She managed to convince her friend that it wasn't worth putting down the other school; they were better off devoting their energy to cheering for their team and believing they can win. And even if they lose, it's not the end of the world. They can just try harder next time.

Of course… Saori making her opinions public like that, a few older girls took offense to how naive and "stupid" she was being. They "challenged" Saori for the position of cheer squad captain, knowing full well that first-years weren't allowed to try for that position. Their goal was to get Saori in trouble with the teacher overseeing the team… But Saori accepted the challenge, not knowing the risks involved… And in the end, the teacher took Saori's side when she explained everything later, how it was the other girls' idea but Saori was willing to leave the team or accept any punishment if that smoothed over feathers. Saori had never given the teacher or anyone a reason to be harsh with her; she was always just striving to be the best she could be… And so, for the first time in their school's history a first-year was made the cheer squad captain.

And it turned out amazing. Saori led her team to national championships for the first time that year. Her cheerful nature, her stalwart beliefs in her friends and school, the synergy she developed with the cheer squad, and the charisma she began developing… It all contributed to her school becoming the national champions for the first time in its history, through sheer effort and positivity.

Saori would go on to make her middle school cheer squad a well-oiled machine in the coming years. They would have their ups and downs, but everyone had faith that so long as Saori was here to lead them, they'd pull through. Her motto of "Anything is possible for an Aisaka!" became a motto for the students in general; not as a condescending statement, but more of a can-do attitude. A simple sentiment, but Saori's friends loved how uplifting it is.

As high school rolled around… Kizakura came calling, and while Saori didn't like parting with her friends, the scout won her over with the idea that as the Ultimate Cheerleader, she could go around to various high schools and help them become better, more wholesome teams. Saori loves that idea a lot, and so she agreed to come to HPA. And once she graduated, she went on to support both high schools and universities, changing cutthroat attitudes to more honorable ones. Honoring the competition, inspiring everyone to be the best they can be.

Yumi Yano - Ultimate Announcer

Yumi Yano. The Ultimate Announcer. This plucky young lass is known nationwide for commentating at sports arenas, idol shows, gameshows, presenting the news, weather, music… She's presented sensational promotional events, and she's a regular on the radio. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and she's favored by citizens all over Japan because she can cheer people up just by the mere sound of her voice. But who is Yumi Yano? Where does she come from? What are her dreams and ambitions?

Yumi was born to a TV news anchor and his wife, who worked in a cubicle all day. Essentially… They were middle class, and it's not as if they were living paycheck to paycheck… However, her parents were so used to the daily grind that they were left pretty joyless. Having Yumi was one of the happiest moments of their lives, but it's not as if they could put off work forever and raise her and be a family. Bills needed to be paid, and they wanted to give Yumi a good future. Get her into a good university, go for a good paying career…

Yumi saw how hard her parents worked, and felt terrible for being a burden. Of course they never called her that; they even assured her many times that she wasn't a burden… But that's just how Yumi felt. They were so absorbed in the daily grind they rarely had the time to sit down and be a family. Go for fun outings… There was just never time for any of that.

But it wasn't just her life at home. Yumi also suffered at school, somewhat. She was never bullied, never hated, but her friends had their own lives. They tried being there whenever possible, but often club activities, family business, hobbies and interests, and other friends would take higher priority over Yumi. She gave it her all to be supportive, but in the end it left her feeling lonely and at the worst of times abandoned.

One day, though… Yumi was allowed to visit her dad at work. She didn't have anything going on at school, so she agreed to "ditch" for the day and get to tour a television studio. It turned out really well for her - while her dad handled a daytime program, one of the other programs ongoing at the time needed an emergency substitute announcer, and no one else seemed to be available immediately. They were going to delay the broadcast, but Yumi, so sweet and innocent, convinced the camera crew to let her try and help. Her dad was a news anchor, how tough could this be?

They were just going to humor her, continue to delay the broadcast and let the kid think she was on TV…. But to their amazement, she understood the script just fine, and even injected her own unique energy and ad-libs - stuff that only a kid could imagine. They ended up broadcasting Yumi, and it was her first successful show. Her dad didn't even find out until weeks later, when Yumi got called in for more gigs. At just mine years old, Yumi proved to be a natural at television, and viewers just ate her up.

For several months, Yumi had to learn to analyze and commentate sports matches, gameshows, and so much more. But like she was born for this, Yumi took to announcing like a duck to water. She was helping her dad's TV studio, and all the staff were being so nice to her, even paying her…! She felt accepted, and her appearances on TV even earned attention from her schoolmates who suddenly wanted to prioritize her and get to know her. Yumi wasn't an idiot; she knew her newfound popularity was only because she was becoming a rising TV and radio sensation, but even so… Yumi didn't begrudge them. If they wanted to be friends, Yumi was happy to oblige. And all that money she got for being a part-time announcer, she helped pay her parents' bills and this in turn awoke her parents to what they were unwittingly allowing to happen. It wasn't their intention for Yumi to grow up so fast… So they tried to do a 180 and be a family for Yumi's sake. … Too little too late, however. Yumi was happy to have her family and friends… But she connects this to her success as an announcer. If she were to go back to how things were, she would return to loneliness and misery. She doesn't resent anyone for pushing her to this lifestyle; but she wants to keep what she has. Yumi can't let the pain show, so she resolves to keep smiling and laughing. Keep everyone's spirits up, including her own. She wants to keep helping the TV studio, and she's considering the other studios and stations offering her gigs because of her talent.

So despite her parents' worries… Yumi keeps growing as an announcer. Through her work, she's met and commentated on Chiemi, Chou, Satsuki, Hitomi, Hana, Honoka, Mitsuba, Stella, Hiyoko, Ibuki, Junko, Kotoko, Sayaka, Emma, Kanade and Hibiki, and Tsumugi… Just to name a "few" of the talented people she's encountered in her prolific career. Each celebrity she meets just makes Yumi's popularity and notoriety grow, but the way she sees it is that Yumi helps these amazing people gain traction and affection from their fantasies, because she endorses and supports each and every one of them. She makes sure society knows why these people are amazing, and why they should be admired.

When Kizakura inevitably came knocking, Yumi all too gladly accepted the invitation, to her parents' chagrin. Her career was pretty up there already, but HPA clearly sees her as the best. … And they're proud of her, but her parents do regret that she grew up too fast. That they drove her to think this career is all that matters. It's not like they can hold her back anymore… But they hope that HPA can give her the friends that see past her public image and just want to be her friends. … Because she needs that no-strings-attached friendship, after feeling lonely for so long.

And she would get that special friendship years later, when Makoto arrives at HPA~…

Whew. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) If you made it this far, as a treat Class 73 is fully finished and just needs bios. They will be released definitely before Christmas week and I'm going to work very hard at getting them all ready very soon.

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cyberpunkonline · 6 months

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Unraveling Discordianism in David Lynch's Oeuvre

In the realm of contemporary cinema, few auteurs have embroidered their work with the esoteric thread of Discordianism as richly as David Lynch. Discordianism, a modern, somewhat satirical religion that worships Eris, the Greek goddess of chaos, offers a theological justification for embracing disorder, paradox, and the absurd. It's a cosmic giggle in the face of convention and authority, a sentiment that finds an echoing laughter in Lynch's filmography.

Non-Linear Narratives: The Discordian Storytelling

The traditional narrative arc bends toward order: a beginning, middle, and end where loose ends are tied, and moral lessons are gleaned. Lynch, however, splinters this arc, creating mosaics of narrative chaos. In "Mulholland Drive," he constructs a cinematic labyrinth without a Minotaur, leaving the audience to wander in interpretive circles. This film plays with the very fabric of storytelling, a move reflective of the Discordian principle of creative disorder.

Duality and the Illusion of Order

Lynch’s “Twin Peaks” serves as a beacon of Discordian themes, with the dual existence of its characters (and their secrets) juxtaposing the apparent tranquility of small-town life with a hidden, chaotic underworld. The Double-headed Eagle in Discordianism, symbolizing order and disorder, finds its echo in the duality of characters like Laura Palmer - the homecoming queen with a dark double life, embodying the Discordian belief that chaos and order are two sides of the same coin.

The Absurdity of Existence: Rabbits and Radiators

One cannot discuss Lynch’s foray into the Discordian without a nod to the unsettling sitcom featuring humanoid rabbits in "Inland Empire." Their disjointed exchanges in a nondescript living room, accompanied by canned laughter at non-jokes, invoke the absurdity of existence central to Discordianism. It's here Lynch’s work becomes an Easter egg of sorts, where Bugs Bunny could be the trickster archetype of Eris, albeit more likely to wield a carrot than the Golden Apple of Discord.

The Surreal as a Gateway to Truth

Lynch’s worlds are teeming with surreal elements that break the illusion of reality, a core principle in Discordianism that what we see is but a structured facade over the intrinsic chaos of the universe. “Eraserhead’s” Lady in the Radiator, singing in a dream sequence amidst giant spermatoid creatures, challenges the audience’s comfort with the familiar, urging a confrontation with the chaos that underpins existence.

Chaos Magick and the Artistic Process

Lynch’s creative process itself mirrors the chaotic magick intrinsic to Discordian practice. His reliance on Transcendental Meditation to dive into the depths of consciousness and emerge with the pearls of avant-garde storytelling aligns with the Discordian idea of tapping into chaos for enlightenment. Lynch’s films don’t just represent Discordianism; they enact it.

Conclusion

David Lynch's films are tapestries woven with threads of paradox, absurdity, and chaos, where the audience is often left to their own devices to make sense of the spectacle. While Lynch may not explicitly identify as a Discordian, the parallels are striking. From the double lives of "Twin Peaks" to the unnerving performances of "Eraserhead," Lynch channels the essence of Discordianism, proving that within chaos, there is a strange order to be found - and within his cinema, an unsettling enlightenment awaits the brave. Whether the rabbit hole leads to a hidden lodge in the woods or a lady living in a radiator, Lynch assures us the journey through chaos is never just a wild hare chase - sometimes, it's a pilgrimage to the heart of artistic truth.

- Raz

#discordianism #discordia #david lynch #twin peaks

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hexxo707 · 5 months

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☁️ | Application for Brisk are CLOSED!

I don't know if anyone is posting for open roleplay now in day, but might as well try ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

The Brisk Project is a 17+ dystopian thriller group roleplay on discord about the last known dogs left behind within the southern and western region.

In a desolate, abandoned cityscape, shadows conceal secrets of a authoritarian past. A regime once known as the "Canine Unit Bureau" (CUB). Maintain order and protecting citizens, The CUB has taken all known Canines under one zone. Dogs, once beloved companions, are now seen as potential threats to society. As survivors navigate crumbling skyscrapers and eerie streets, a rebel group discovers a hidden truth that could reshape their bleak reality as they navigate the labyrinth of surveillance and deceit. However, some survivors vanish mysteriously, a clandestine resistance emerges, unraveling a dark conspiracy that threatens to plunge the city into chaos. Pursued by relentless enforcers, they unravel a web of deception, leading to a climactic struggle for freedom in a world forgotten by time. The abandoned city holds the key to their survival, but unlocking it comes at a perilous cost.

🌓 | PART 1 : T H E C A G E

Difficulty level | Medium

The story will start in a facility that navigate your characters to meet one another in hope of finding an escape route as they discover outside knowledge to the world and witness the horrors it plays within the shelter walls.

🌔 | Rank

Each character's rank will be randomize

The Elites - reserved for the few who holds significant power in secret and have access to resources. Be careful though for that may harm your plan.

The Workers - Understand the basics of the facility & the amenities. however, are under surveillance at all times. Watch out for those in your group that shifted away.

The Newcomers - The ones that know what is happening outside of the facility. they often operate in secrecy and try to avoid consequences if discovered.

🌕 | Character Sign-ups

You can either comment your application attached to this post or mentioned me on a post with your character application. Once Approved, you're be given a link to the discord to start the roleplay.

Name

Appearance

Backstory

Roleplay example

🌑 | DEADLINE

December 13th at 11 PM CT

So if you're interested, consider joining and maybe reblog this for those out that may be interested to tried out as well. ^^

Toyhouse | Instagram

#dog #canine #dog rp #dog roleplay #oc rp #oc roleplay #discord rp #literate rp #rp community #dystopian thriller

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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

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Chapter 6 ~ Death To All Who Oppose Us

"My brothers. We were forged in victory." Zeus began his moment of vivification. "A victory that ended the Great War and brought forth the reign of Mount Olympus. Born from the Depths of the Underworld, rooted in the River of Souls, our mountain emerged out of the Chaos. As it grew, so too did the might of the Olympians. WE created a world of peace - A world of prosperity - A world that lives in the shadow and safety of MY mountain. A mountain that has come to be the absolute measure of strength and power." Hermes watched his mighty Father spread his arms, showing his deep devotion to the Olympians and their home, which was under attack. He had to admit, Zeus had always been a great orator. A politician who was capable of manipulating and attracting even the unbelievers to his side, especially after an unexpected demonstration of power. "Now, on this day, that power is to be tested." Hermes, although emboldened by the speech, was barely able to keep himself from rolling his eyes - This is what happens when you cannot stay loyal to your wife - You get a prophecy about one of your many children who is out to kill you. How pitiful. On the other hand, not Poseidon, nor Hades have such a problem! As the saying goes, you reap what you sow, O, Mighty God. "The mortal, Kratos, seeks to destroy all that I have wrought. And he is aided by one of our own! Mine own daughter, Katrina, has betrayed us - But I do not blame her... Who knows the manipulation of which that mortal is capable of, to turn daughter against father, for the sake of a fleeting love!" and here come the lies, the Messenger thought to himself - Though he was perfectly fine with wringing the Spartan's neck for not only seeking to destroy his home and family, but for making his wife suffer so much over him... But that woman... She was so dear to him, that he would gladly lay down his life for her - He only prays that the dumb brute she is with would be as attentive about her own protection as he is. "Brothers! Put aside the petty grievances that have splintered us for so long! We WILL unite! We WILL stand together! And I WILL wipe out this plague! Olympus WILL prevail!" the mountain shook with each heavy climb from the titans, but nothing stopped Zeus from finishing his speech.

The three mighty brothers, along with Helios and Hermes, stepped by the edge of the balcony, readying themselves, mentally and physically, for an all-out war. The God of the Sun, upon seeing his chariot pulled by his fiery horses, jump onto it, ready for battle. Next, was the husband of the Goddess of Nature, who flipped a coin and made a self-bet. If Olympus won, he would see Heads in his palm - If not... Then, tails. But before he could allow himself to look, he simply caught the coin and held onto it tightly, hoping that there was some hidden 3rd option in which both himself and Katrina could simply run away and live a lavish life, just as before... Before that annoying Spartan came by. He only wished that, by the time he is able to find his wife and steal her away, the whole place isn't completely in shambles.

He could see her sitting upon Gaia... Poor soul, she looked absolutely distraught and afraid. How could such a darling, peaceful woman, thrive in the midst of bloodshed and havoc? Did Kratos truly care naught for the woman who had devoted her very existence to his well being? What a selfish bastard.

"Whatever happens - You MUST escape! Do you hear me?" through the chaos, the Goddess tried to hide behind a tree on Gaia's back. Kratos's voice brought her back to reality, only to frown and shake her head. "I had not gone suffering all this life, just to abandon you, or see your death before mine eyes! Have you any idea how oft have I heard that my love shalt die in mine very arms? I shalt have none of that!" the beautiful maiden reprimanded the once feared Spartan warrior, who grunted, displeased at the disobedience. "That was no question - It was an order!" he yelled back at her. "I am DONE losing my family to the petty whims of the Gods!" Though wholesome, her feelings were similar. "I am as selfish as you are, Kratos! I cannot live without you! Don't you DARE die on me! I have had enough! Do you hear me?!" she pleaded to him, yet it was cut short, not only by the heavy sound of a titan falling prey to the depths of the sea, but by Poseidon himself, creating a water monster to attack Gaia, and in turn, the two rebels - Morphed with algae, minerals and other rocks, Katrina was able to use her vines and hold the equine monster in place, while the Spartan were to destroy it with his powerful double blades.

When the woman gave the signal that the aquatic entity was held surely, Kratos launched himself up by climbing on one of its arthrophodus-like arms, before latching them onto the horse's mandible and ripping it away - Though they were in free fall, the Goddess was able to offer her lover a liana that brought him in a sure location on the mountain - But her safety was naught in place, as Gaia was losing her footing steadily, being attacked by all.

It was awful, having to fight all alone, without Kratos's reassuring presence by her side - Alas, whatever fight she was having could not be compared to what he was facing, surveying the inside of the mountain, through the Tomb of Ares. The old memory of the now deceased God of War mattered little anymore, so the Spartan left in a hurry, returning to aid the Titan Mother against the chimera-like water entity causing her heavy damage. Its crustacean shell was not as indestructible as it had wished to be, especially not against his cursed weapons - Weapons capable of killing Gods, Primordials and Titans alike. Thus, he pried away the horse's thorax, revealing the magma stone that served as a heart, which, with the aid of the monster's severed leg, he had impaled, allowing Kratos to properly climb back on the titan... Until he had reached her heart.

He had time for only a small glimpse of it, before running outside where the Goddess was awaiting him, seemingly alive and unscratched. But as soon as he went by her side, wishing to check on her, a gargantuan aquatic entity arose mightily from beneath the seas and emerged like the Great Lord that Governs all that is a water bed. "You DARE challenge me?! A GOD of Olympus?!" Poseidon's voice was dark and boomed menacingly throughout the air. "A TRUE warrior does not hide, Poseidon! Leave the sea and face me!" Kratos roared at the Mighty God, who did not pay him any mind. "The Gods are nothing but cunning cowards who play to their own advantages alone. I truly wished that this would have been avoided... Alas, we will have to destroy the heart of the water entity and pry him away from inside the safety of its carcass. Think we can achieve such a feat?" Katrina's eyes were fixed to its thorax, and she was able to get a glimpse at the God's real body. "Nothing is impossible for us, Katrina." the Spartan's answer painted a more confident smile on her face. "You have disrespected the Gods for the last time, Kratos." the many-headed water horse on which he was mounted crawled with its spiked crustacean legs onto the body of Gaia, leaving deep gashes and lacerations in its wake - The duo would immediately damage them intro retracting. "I will leave NOTHING of you in my wake!" Gaia's continuous gasps of pain meant nothing to either the Spartan or the Goddess - They had a single goal in mind, and that was to kill Zeus. "All of Olympus unites against you!" that would have been a great feat, should there be an army of Gods fighting them altogether - Which, was not the case.

The Mother Titan, however, was capable of catching the God into her hand, thus allow the God of War to jump onto it and deliver damage to his enemy. "For the greatness of Olympus!" he says, using his trident to harm Gaia - What a hypocrite, Katrina thought - He's only mad because of the accident with Atlantis! Reaching a higher ground, Katrina was able to catch Poseidon's crown with her liana, hitting the entity's head onto the mountain, whilst Kratos destroyed away at its chest piece, revealing the beating stone heart. "Gaia! Hold on a little longer!" Katrina shouted at the Titan who was able to punch at the God's water form with Kratos on her fist - Thus, he could jump through the water giant's form and leapt with Poseidon's human body onto the mountain. He seemed exhausted already - Not much of a fighter, after all. "Zeus should have kept you where you belong." the man panted on the ground, completely out of breath, as the God of War looked down on him with scorn. "No matter how many Gods fall, there will always be another to stand against you." "They will fall as well." Kratos started stomping towards the slumped God. "The death of Olympus means the death of us all - That stupid flower girl who fooled you into thinking she loves you as well!" the Spartan was well aware of the lies the Gods of Olympus spew when in danger. He knew better than to trust any of them. "Then prepare for your death, Poseidon." he dared bad mouth the woman he loved, and even put in question the love she held for him - How foolish of him.

With much ease, Kratos kept smashing and slamming Poseidon's head onto the wall of the mountain and onto the ground, threw him into rocks and kicked him in the face - Desperate to escape, he attempted to crawl away to the edge of the plateau they were on, hoping to jump into his water domain... But the Spartan had no mercy, and he used his thumbs to gouge his eyes out, before breaking his neck and kicking him into the sea, like a ragdoll. Though, with his domain accepting his deceased body, the water level rose to the point of flooding entire cities... And, mayhaps, even more.

"Kratos! Are you alright, my love?" Katrina asked, leaping from Gaia's body and embracing him dearly. "Of course. He was nothing but a nuisance - And now, he is dead." the man huffed, patting her shoulder as a reassurance. "Kratos! The death of Zeus is within out reach! Climb to my hand!" the two immediately complied, after sharing a dear look with each other, and the Spartan held the woman closely, so she would not fall in the climbing process. "Whatever happens, you do NOT interfere, understand? Zeus will not hesitate to use you as bait against me." Kratos warned his lover. "And if he does, you kill him. No matter what. The world will be a better place for the human realm without him and his arrogant corruption and misuse of power." she spoke back. "I care little for any realm. The one I care for is YOU. Understand? Now GO! I will NOT have Zeus kill you, or who knows what else. If I fall today, you have to run away and save yourself. I will have nothing else." his frown and restlessness were based strongly on the fear of losing the last person alive that he care for. "You are being so unfair to me..." he could not look into her pleading eyes - He knew, if he did, he would end up agreeing to her selfless plan. He couldn't. "I am. Now leave, otherwise, I will throw you away myself." he did not allow her even the shortest kiss - Instead, just as he was forced to do with Calliope before, in Elysium, he pushed her away from him, He could not bare to even feel her touch, let alone, affection. "Please, I beg of you... Return to me. Alive." the feeling of dread grew forevermore, yet she knew, despite the life and death situation, there was nothing she could do to stop Kratos from attempting to kill Zeus by himself... Thus, she used a liana and ran away. How very cowardly. Through all the adventures they went together - Now, she has to run away. Ridiculous. "What will you do, Father? You can no longer hide behind the skirts of Athena." Kratos snarled, jumping off of Gaia's back as soon as they reached the peak of Olympus, and he stepped towards the lonesome silhouette of the Mightiest God. "Athena is dead because of the rage that consumes you, Kratos. What more will you destroy? Is it Katrina you wish to kill next? Her innocence? Her selflessness?" he truly knew how to anger him. "The Hands of Death could not defeat me. The Sisters of Fate could not hold me. And you will NOT see the end of this day. I WILL have MY revenge!" Kratos readied his weapons and got into a fighting stance immediately. "Petulant child! I will tolerate your insolence no more!" thus, Zeus jump into the skies and landed on a statue of himself, channeling the fantastic powers of lightning, which he threw at the Mother Titan, making both his son and Gaia fall off the mountain - It was only now, as he was steadily falling off the titan's back, that he realised of her treachery. Once again, he was fooled into believing that the enemy of his enemy was his friend... And friend she was, to the extent of her own life. She was selfish. Had Katrina been there, she could have rescued him - Maybe even that betrayer of a titan. How dare she deny him his revenge? Had he not earned it so? Did he not have every right to it?

No matter. As he was falling to his doom, he began recalling heart-breaking life history. I have lived as a warrior - he thought, recalling the many wars he was in. I have died as a God - he recalled his journey through the underworld and the way he was saved... And how Zeus killed him. Having suffered the ultimate sacrifice - Flashbacks his own blades... His own body, being splashed with the blood of his own wife and child... I have been denied release - the burning shackles placed on his wrists by the Furies, he can still feel, tight on his flesh. I... I WILL defeat Olympus - He vowed, seeing Katrina's sweet smile before his eyes, serving as the last piece of strength that surged through his veins.

I WILL have my revenge!

Thus, he awoke, falling into the River Styx, swimming and fighting his way out of there... Right into the realm of Hades. "We are NOT finished, Zeus." as he stepped foot into the land, he cried out to the skies. "The Gates of Hades have NEVER held me!" however, he heard a voice from behind him - It was familiar, though he never thought he would hear it again. "Death cannot hold those with purpose, Kratos." the voice spoke mystically. Turning around, he noticed the descending silhouette of the one who was once the Goddess of Wisdom. "Athena...?" "I have missed you, Spartan." if Katrina heard such a bold statement from the one who claimed to be eternally virgin, she would have ripped her lying throat out, especially after having put her beloved through such suffering - Alas, Kratos still felt remorse for having killed one which he had not desired... Again. "I... I don't..." he was rendered speechless. Were his eyes cheated by some spell? Was Athena truly in front of him, even in death? "My sacrifice to save Zeus brought me to a higher existence." she spoke. "You still appear to be an Olympian." Kratos noticed her magic and attire. "Appearances can be deceiving, Kratos." yes, he remembers his beloved warning him of that many a times. "So can the children of Olympus." he turned his back to her, stepping away. "Perhaps. But remember - My death came by YOUR blade." he always hated how she twisted the knife and poured salt and alcohol on an open wound. "My blade was meant for Zeus." he turned to face her, reproaching her unsavory statement. "Be quick with your words." he had lost his patience with all the riddles and empty words of the Gods. "As we speak, the war for Olympus rages on, and mankind suffers." Athena warned him greatly. "Let them suffer. The death of Zeus is all that matters." he waved his hand dismissively. "Katrina will be displeased to hear that her hard work is not appreciated. She will have much to work after you are done destroying everything in your path, Kratos." though he knew she was right - Who else but the king Goddess of Nature loved the mortal realm more than her own, and wished for the Olympians to be more selfless and aid the ones in need without any tricks behind? Who, but her, was going to use every bit of her power, trying to bring a-back the great glory of Greece for the mortals, no matter how many aeons took? "Leave her name out of your mouth, Athena! She was right about you all along. I should have listened to you, when she warned me about all your lies and deceits. I have no reason to listen to you." he growled at her, angrily. "Zeus will not fall as easily as Ares. To destroy the King of the Gods, you must seek the source of his strength. The Flame of Olympus." the vision pointed him into the right direction. "You once sacrificed yourself to save Zeus, and now you seek to destroy him? What has brought about this change?" the man was rightful to ask such questions - he crossed his arms to his chest and interrogated the ghost of Athena. She traversed her translucent arm through his torso, taking his blades with her and she passed to his other side. "I see truths where I did not before. Perhaps these will earn back your trust." Kratos knew better than to trust someone whose loyalties and opinions are so feeble. Still, watching her using magic to empower his blades pleased him. "These are the Blades of Exile. They will help guide you on your journey to the Flame." she threw the weapons back into his hands. "Remember - As long as Zeus reigns, there is no hope for mankind. Destroy the Flame, Kratos, and the very foundation of Olympus will crumble." as soon as she disappeared into nothingness, the Spartan was able to go about his journey through the Realm of Hades, so that he can escape. Reaching the very gate of his infernal palace, with a statue of his likeness before it, he heard Athena's voice speaking to him, just as she used to, long ago. With the new magic surrounding his weapons, he could summon a protective phalanx of shields and spears that will drive his enemies back. Once again, he had to rely on his brothers - His brethren - To aid him in this war, as he summoned the spirit of his Spartan brothers.

Through the choir of agonistic shrieks of the ones plummeting down from the sky, he could hear Hades's antagonistic comments. He claims to like listening to his pain. If so, then Kratos is eager to listen to his last breath before he dies. Poseidon's wasn't as satisfying as he had hoped.

Venturing forward, he stumbled upon a note, scrawled by a tortured soul. It read the following -

"This oppressive darkness is no place for a delicate flower to bloom. Tonight, I honor Hades's request and join his table, but I swear on the morrow, I will leave this foul place with you at my side. Nothing shall keep me from you, my darling Persephone." this had to be a rather ridiculous jest, Kratos thought, ripping apart the note left behind by nothing but a fool, in love with the mere mirage of a good looking woman. How many had to die, because some idiot fell in love with a beautiful, married woman and stole her away? He had once been a renowned general and tactician for the Spartan army - And to see capable young men, wasting away their lives, and even bring about the downfall of a great Kingdom, it was nothing less than ridiculous.

Even so, as he walked away, he thought about the first words written - With those, he could agree, though he did not think about the Goddess which he had killed long ago - No, instead, he thought about a Goddess which truly resembled a delicate flower, ready to bloom. It was Katrina. It has always been her. He remembers her braveness as she fought her fears and battled through the Death Domain. He remembers how eager she was to sacrifice her life, for him and Deimos to live. He could not allow her to end in this place. She would wilt away. This was no place for her. He wanted to see her eyes sparkle with life and those beautiful pink lips smiling at him.

Oft times, he preferred venturing about all alone - It gave him the peace of mind he so desperately needed to process not only the torrent of emotions battling inside of his heart, but the infernal rage that was destroying him from within. Despite all this, he had realised how much he longed to have Katrina by his side. To feel her touch, caressing away all of his pain and offering him the clarity he yearned for so much. He needed to hear that voice, sweet like honeyed ale, as she told him about love stories around Olympus, between Nymphs and Gods... Less so humans, as she did not want to disturb the Demigod-born Spartan.

Miraculously, he was seeking comfort from within, trying to recall one of her stories - Though he knew how much she hated the tragedies, she somehow always ended up telling him how there is beauty is every sad story. He hated sad stories... But all Greeks seemed to revel on such artistry... If they love tragedies so much, then they might as well create a whole theater play, or write a poem book, or even a prose about his life... And love life. Katrina would love that. She would even agree to star as one of the actors. She loved mortals more than any God that had ever graced the world. In fact, if they wanted so, she would write the novel herself, just as she had done for some of Sappho's, once she was in too deep a torment to write for herself.

But Kratos, although described often as a brawns-only man, was enough of an intellectual to hold even philosophical discussions with the Goddess - Although she never was a huge fan of politics and existentialism - However, she did like hearing about his life in Sparta, and how great the people are. He remembers once, when he told her about the Queen of Sparta, called Gorgo, and how confident she was. Though, of course, he had not met her himself, he remembers his mother scolding his brother once when he disrespected her with a bratty attitude, no doubt brought upon by mental and physical exhaustion. His mother told him about a conversation than an Athenian woman had with the Queen that went as follows - The Athenian woman asked the Queen “Why are you Spartan women the only ones who rule over their husbands?” and the Queen answered “Because only we are the mothers of men”. Though it was not a lesson directed to him, Kratos has since kept it to his heart. Never once had he disrespected any woman, be her of any nationality - And Katrina was very much absorbed by that story that he told her - Maybe it was because he smiled... Or so she said. He did not believer her, yet he could not deny it either.

He wished to remember more, his thoughts were disturbed by a man's voice, calling out for him, from behind a wall of thorns. "I have suffered enough, Spartan." the man... He was Peirithous, the idiot whose note he had read previously. "Hades sentenced me to this eternal torture. My... Prison of tinder! But now that you are here - You can free me!" he called out in desperation. "All I have left is my bow. Please, free me, and it is yours." the idiot strikes a good deal, Kratos thought. But he jumped on one of the large chandeliers, and much to his amusement, the man spoke again. "If you light me on fire, I cannot help you!" as if he ever needed any help from these arrogant fools. "You fool! You'll burn me alive!" if you cannot save yourself, perhaps it is exactly what you deserve, the Spartan thought, moving a flammable brazier into the right position, deaf to the prisoner's pleas and curses, then unleashed the caged cerberus, which he subdued into spitting flames on the brazier, and thus, not only did he burn away the wall of thorns that jailed the idiot, but he, also, was very much roasted. Now, he was the new owner of the Bow of Apollo. With the aid of its fiery arrows, he will be able to venture forth, behind the walls made by the wilted vines.

Passing through the corridor to reach another chamber, he stumbled upon yet another note. 'The melody... It plays on and will not stop. The voice sings of pain and loss. These things I know too well, but still can bear. It is when the voice sings of hope that I learn true anguish, a longing for that which I can never have.' though he hated to admit, this affirmation, he could relate with, on some points. An abstract voice, creepy and fearsome, was silently disturbing the beautiful humming. 'My child. Have you seen my child?' the disembodied voice asked, though there was no child, no person to ask such a query.

The lullaby stopped as soon as he entered a room filled with enemies which he defeated, and it had not started again, even while outside, climbing on the mountainous wall to reach the Judges of the Underworld, huge statues, holding onto a large chain. Once Kratos reached the plateau, he saw the plate underneath being emblazoned with an inscription. "Those who seek to be judged must first complete the Trials of Erebus."

Reaching a pedestal on which a book was resting, he was able to read the description of the first task.

Trial 1: The Condemned Fueled by fear, the lost from the world above have nowhere to escape from their sins. Defeat all the lost souls and the minions that determine their fate.

How pretentious, Kratos thought. Once again, the arrogance of the Gods pits men against men, as if there weren't enough mortal wars out of greed for conquest, wealth and glory to begin with. As the Spartan massacred soul after soul without a second thought, and being able to pass to the next task, he realised how thankful he was that he did not need to expose the Goddess to such cruelty. She had many many a compromise for him, including stepping onto her own heart and closing her eyes at the suffering of the mortal realm. She needn't see any more of it.

Trial 2: The Lost Why do The Condemned souls of Hades continue to seek salvation, when they are eternally damned? Kill wandering souls before they are converted into Hades's army.

Fight during your whole life, and fight some more even in death - One can never even dream of seeking rest of peace, for the Gods will rake around lost souls and make them fight again and again until there's nothing left of them. Still, his task was far more important than the suffering souls of others, and killing them must have been akin to some peace-bringing, at least. He was doing them a favour, by this point, destroying the shackles binding them to eternal servitude at the feet of Olympians. At least he could now pass to the last trial and get this over with.

Trial 3: The Chosen To enter the Gates of Elysium, more than perseverance and strength is required. Step forward to attempt judgement and prove your worth. Destroy everything...

Elysium... What a grim reminder of Calliope. A father should never have to bury his child...

After the bothersome trials, the gate went down and Kratos could proceed further. The three statues let go of the chain, and Kratos stood on the disk. The statues spoke. "By the Gods of Olympus and Order of Zeus, we are the Three Judges. Face your final judgement, mortal." even statues made out of stone are arrogant now. "King Aeacus has found you wanting. King Rhadamanthus has found you worthy. It falls to me, King Minos, to make the final decision." this is ridiculous. If he had to destroy these statues, he could have solved the issue much faster. "Your future is cloaked in shadow. The realm of the Afterlife is not yet ready for you. Beyond that door waits your destiny." a door had opened, and Kratos could finally end this charade by passing onto the other side of the portal inside.

Though, as soon as he wound up on the other side, in the distance, he saw another portal, in which he entered. There was a door blocking his way out, but on the ground, he found another note - That of a young soul, this time. "The fires! The people screaming! I was so scared! Why didn't father protect us? The judges say I have to go now to Elysium and that it will be nice there. I miss my family." Kratos couldn't help but wrinkle that note in his hand. Had it not been for a single use of a plural pronoun, he would have been certain the note was written for him, by Calliope. A worse coincidence simply could not happen to him, and now, his heart was weeping once more. How he missed his family as well...

He had to leave that room faster - And so he did, but on his way, he found many golden statues of children. On one of them, a small wisp of white that called out to him... For 'Father', at least. It was the voice of a young girl who was in need of her father. Out of sheer shock, Kratos knelt besides the small statue which had her arms extended towards him, and looked at the white flame-light light in her palms. "Calliope?" he could not believe it was her, yet his heart was longing to see his child again. "Oh." the young girl was as shocked as he was... Thought neither was satisfied with learning the identity of the one they found. "You are NOT my daughter." how could he be so foolish as to believe that was his own child... "No. But I know who you are." she spoke to him. "You know of me?" he was incredulous. How could a young child like her know of him? "They said you would come." but before the young girl could speak, she disappeared, for Hades's voice boomed throughout the realm, challenging him - Thus, the Spartan quickened his pace towards his destination.

Though once again, he picked up another note, of a tortured soul. He was growing tired of their woes - As if he had naught his own to deal with. "He was my responsibility. It was my burden to raise him, teach him right from wrong - All who get too near him suffer of die. His wife, his child, his brother... And now me. I failed him. As a mother, as a human being - His sins are mine to bear. Punish me for his shortcomings and grant my son redemption."

This must be an awful joke Hades was playing on him, otherwise, there wouldn't be some stupid letter that so perfectly reminded him of his own poor mother who had to die a needless death, and lived a no-life. All because of Zeus. He was going to pay dearly for everything that he has done.

The next note, however, almost brought a chuckle to him - At least, this one, he knew truly that it was about him. "He could have saved me. He held my life in his hands, and he still let go. I may have been just a mere boat captain, but he treated me as if I was nothing! He is to blame for my torment here! I hope he suffers in Hades as I have! Damn that Ghost of Sparta!" of course, now he recalls the ridiculous old man, from whom he retrieved the boat cabin key, only to let him slide down the kraken's throat. And then, he let him fall down to the River Styx. And his soul was brought about again, while he was fighting the undead Barbarian King. What a funny old man.

Venturing forwards and unlocking various puzzling mechanisms, he was able to reach a balcony, and looking outside, into the wasteland, he could see the scorched lands that stretch out as far as the eye can see. The Pit of Tartarus. It did not phase the Spartan. He merely stole a look and went on ahead. Ahead, however, he found a new wing with stairs to climb - It looked like a Forge, in fact. There, he found a large, hunchbacked God, weeping miserably. "Leave me be! I tell you... I have paid the price!" he cried out pitifully. "Calm yourself, Smith God." Kratos spoke with no malice, though, as the God turned to face him, he saw now how disfigured and ugly he is. No wonder Aphrodite could not stand a marriage with him. He was less a man, and more monster - Though at least his craft was like no other's. "Ghost of Sparta? It is you... Well, well, well... I thought Zeus would have killed you by now." such a weak taunt almost amused the Spartan. "I thought you would have escaped this cavern by now." he shot back with ease. "Zeus may have imprisoned me here, but you are the reason I live in torment." the Olympians truly loved to victimise themselves. "I did you no wrong, Hephaestus. I pursue only one Olympian." but the Smith God rolled the one functioning eye arrogantly. "Well, as long as it's only ONE Olympian..." he had no time for his cheap sarcasm. "I seek the Flame of Olympus. Do you know of it?" Kratos asked, thought the Smith asked for a purpose. "For the purpose I have chosen. Now tell me - Do you know of the Flame?" "All true children of Olympus know of it. Your little flower girl should know it as well, she always liked stories. I'm surprised she's not here with you... Or maybe she's too afraid that her flowers will wilt here. Can't blame her." the blacksmith let out a sardonic chuckle, easily irritating the Spartan. "We have all come to respect its power - But don't be fooled by its enticing glow. Neither God nor man can touch its lethal flame." "I only need to find it." though... Then what? What was he supposed to do with it? Athena had not told him any farther than that into her phantasmal plan. "If you can find your way out of the Underworld, I am sure you can find your way to the Flame of Olympus." came the empty reply of the mutilated God. "You have been truly helpful, Hephaestus." Kratos turned around to leave, already tired from the nonsensical babble of this God. Once again, he truly pitied Aphrodite, and completely understood why she would run away, in the arms of even someone like Ares. At least he was just useless, not yet another enemy, Kratos thought, as he left Hephaestus's Forge, in search of a way out of Hades's Realm.

Once outside, the man had seen another child statue, and thought he had his own statue impaling the poor bronze silhouette in such a macabre way, he found the child's wisp on her palms, calling out his name, this time. Kratos. Kneeling before her, he began speaking to her - Her form was not quite perfectly visible, but enough to make out the form of a young girl. "How do you know of me?" he asked, unable to understand how a child could know of his... Reputation. "You are the Ghost of Sparta. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone is afraid of you." the little wisp spoke. "There are reasons for that." he admitted. "I'm not afraid of you." her voice was calm and even brave, he'd say, if not, childish and innocent even. Like any child. "It is good you're not afraid, child. Fear is a heavy burden." he admitted, reaching out his hand for the hilt of his sword. "I'm NOT a child, Kratos!" how adorable, came a blank thought as he retrieved his sword. "I does not matter what you are. My concerns lay elsewhere." he spoke, stepping away from the statue. "Kratos, please, I need you to free me!" she pleaded to him, but it was in vain - How can one who cannot free himself, free another? "The quest for freedom is also a heavy burden. I cannot help you." her wisp disappeared upon the arrival of several foes, and though she did not reappear right away, Kratos suspected, this was not the last time he would see her. Once more, closing in to Hades's own halls, he could hear the lulling hum, so soothing, yet so haunting. It somehow reminded him of a tragic love story that Katrina had once told him, while playing the lyre for him, for the first time. She had said it was a gift from Hermes, crafted by himself with his own magic, and that no sweeter song could ever be heard, than from that lyre.

He was sat down on the bed, humoring the woman as she dramatically danced and acted out like an expressive bard as she sang the story of love and woe. There was once a mortal who fell in love with a Nymph - And the Nymph was the most beautiful of them all - Her name, Eurydice. The sweet and pure maid, too, fell in love with the man, the talented Orpheus, who charmed her with his wonderous melodies that he played on his lyre. Kratos remembers now, how Katrina would pretend to be either the man or the woman, and how she's swoon and sigh, or pretend to court her own self, in the mirror. It was a humorous moment. Though the two were loving, merry and happy together, singing and playing and dancing together for years, in a small cottage in the mountains, there had come one day, like many others before, when the sweet Nymph asked the man to play her a lovely tune, which she could hear across the meadow, as she goes to pick up flowers for their home. Here, as Katrina would dance barefoot around the room, it began looking more like a flowery field inside a forest - And she danced her heart and glee away, and for once, Kratos was... Content, seeing her so joyful and living her life through the arts that she loved so much.

Alas, at once, she had fallen through the ground, along with her lyre, and her voice got weak and mournful, just as Eurydice lay her dying breath, bitten by a venomous snake. So distraught was Orpheus upon finding her, that he immediately descended into the Underworld, so that he may plead to Hades to return his sweet Nymph to him, as she was wrongfully taken away from the life of the living. Alas, his begging, nor Persephone's could mellow out the God's heart, so Orpheus took to playing his life's song, that of bliss and grief, of love and pain, of life and death, of beginning and end.

Finally, the God was impressed, even moved, thus he agreed to return Eurydice's soul, but under certain conditions - One must be that the Nymph not speak until she steps foot on the living grass of the Mortal Realm, and second, that Orpheus walks ahead and does not look back - Not even once, not even to steal a tiny peek at her - For should he catch a glimpse of her, the deal is broken, and she returns to the underworld. From here on, Kratos could not focus entirely on her play - It had hurt him, thinking what would it be like, should they have been in that situation, and though Eurydice bid her end of the deal perfectly, Orpheus was a frightened fool, though rightfully suspicious of the Gods.

But the fool broke the deal, and upon turning to look at his beloved, he saw her smile, and her phantasmal form, disappearing before him. "My love!" the man cried out, leaping to catch the last remaining fume that remained, yet it slipped between his very fingers that once felt her soft, warm skin and held her tightly every morn and every night. Just like Orpheus killed outright doomed the one he loved most, so did he - Of course, without the intention to, but all men must live with the consequences of their own actions, no matter how unpredictable and outlandish they become. Would he have looked? Would he have had the strength to keep on moving forward until the very end of the road, without even as much of a tempting peek? Kratos's heart was hurting, just imaging, losing his beautiful red haired lover. He could not accept the idea that he could hold her lifeless form, just like he had done with Lysandra. He simply couldn't. As he heard the Goddess speak of Orpheus killing himself so that his soul could forever dance, and play and sing with Eurydice, in the Underworld, gracing the Halls of Hades and Persephone during even the bleakest winters, he had rose from the bed and thrown the lyre onto the bed, pulling her into a deep kiss. "Tell me of tragedies no more, Katrina. I wish to hear no further." he needn't explain why, for she knew. Instead, she twirled started humming another song - That of Psyche and Eros, one of the only true love stories where the two lovers fell for each other not for their looks, but for their tender hearts - And this affection inspired so many that even Zeus himself was touched and granted the mortal woman immortality, so that they may forever be together and thrive in their passion.

Though he was a Spartan, and his words, laconic, complete anti-thesis to the beautifully embellished phrases that she sings with every word, he truly hoped that the woman was able to feel that his heart for her was true.

But Kratos could think of those times no longer, as he activated a mechanism, and Persephone's coffin was lowered before his very eyes. The woman almost overthrew Olympus and wanted to kill herself, just to escape this man's unctuous hands, only to be entrapped in a match box for the rest of her damned, dead eternity. A pitiful fate, in life and in death. But his respect for the Olympians was close to non-existent, so he did not care that he used her coffin as a battering ram, to go about solving the machinery brought about by Hades's large statue, which he destroyed. At least Persephone's coffin was aiding him to kill the man she hated so much.

Having entered in this dark room, only a spotlight on his, he could hear the ominous voice of the Lord of the Underworld speaking to him. "Kratos, so glad you could carve out some time for us. You know we need it. I sense some bad blood between us, Kratos. Oh, all the memories. They're overwhelming, really. Let's see... How many sins have you committed against me? Oh, that's right. You murdered my niece, Athena. Turned my other niece, Katrina, against her own family. And what else. What else? Ah, and you killed my brother, Poseidon. And I have not forgotten that it was you who butchered my beautiful Queen! I will see you suffer as I have suffered!" those were the self-absorbed words of a God who could only see his own suffering. What about his mother? His brother? His wife and child? His own home, Sparta? What about HIS suffering? "Your soul is mine." Hades spoke as he latched his chained claws onto Kratos, attempting, yet failing to rip away his soul.

The battle for a soul, though not metaphorically speaking only, but physical as well, was an arduous one, Kratos prevailed, as always, and Hades had his soul stolen away by his very weapons, only after having his own heart ripped away and crushed - And thus, his unarmored body, looking flayed and disfigured like a rotting corpse, was letting loose all the captive souls which attacked his lifeless body. Now, having his soul meant that he could swim the Styx without getting harmed - Excellent addition, though he dearly hoped he would never have to step foot in this forsaken realm, let alone see the succumbed body of the one who was once the God of the Underworld.

The claws were interesting to wield, the Spartan realised, and more, he could summon cursed souls to fight for him. He could see the appeal of them. Finally, he was able to swim away - Swim far, far away, into the nothingness, through underwater tunnels and hidden chambers - Right back into the Forge he arrived, meeting a shocked Hephaestus, especially guessing right that Hades was no more. "The God of the Underworld is dead." Kratos jumped in front of the Smith, out of the water. "Dead? Ha. Hades deserved to suffer, though I thought his death impossible." the blacksmith admitted. "The Olympians overestimate themselves." Kratos jabbed at him and his whole kin. "Interesting... I will keep that in mind, Spartan." he noticed that the Spartan was looking at a portal door. "You need the soul of a God to use the Hyperion Gate, Kratos, and that one has not been used for centuries. I'm sure it's beautiful, otherwise I'm sure I would have seen my beautiful..." the God sighed in misery and resentment. "You know, Kratos... I wasn't always like this. A monster. I was once the most prized craftsman in all of Olympus. Zeus rewarded me with my marriage to the beautiful Aphrodite. My mother, Hera, bragged of my talent... But the day you killed Ares was the day my world was torn from me. That day, Zeus became the fiend you now know. Worst of all, he took my beloved daughter, Pandora, my reason for living. I spend my time here, trying to recreate her. I fail. Again and again." Kratos looked up, at the hanging statues of different metals, all of them depicting the same young girl, in different poses. They looked perfectly alike the statues he had found in the Underworld. The wisp he encountered, then, must have been Pandora. "She still lives, Spartan. I can feel it." he spoke. "You... You, Kratos, you can bring her back to me!" "Your child is not my concern." Kratos cut him off. Pandora may be a child, but he was done doing the bidding of the Gods. "But surely, you can understand. You were once a father too." still, he walked away. He could not bare hearing anyone mentioning Calliope in any way.

After having left the forge, Kratos made his way outside and followed the path that led him to another portal gate, only to see before him the vision of Athena once more. "Remember your purpose, Kratos." she said. "The Twilight is upon us. His death is out only hope." how mysterious and cryptic, Kratos thought. When he tells Katrina about his encounter, she's going to find a way to rip Athena's ghostly head right off. "Understand this, Athena. Zeus WILL die." and without need to continue a baseless conversation, Kratos stepped on the other side of the portal, escaping the Underworld, and reaching the city of Olympia.

He had only been there for exactly five second, and Helios's chariot had already flown past him, and Gaia's hand slammed on the ground in front of him - And as she rose, she noticed him, speaking as if there was no ill-will between them. Lying, treacherous titan. "You live, Spartan? The Blood of Cronos serves you well. Quickly! You must help me!" and she even had the audacity to ask for help again! "Help? You?" he asked, completely stunned at her nerve. "Yes, child! Quickly! I suffered greatly - I tried to return to battle, but..." excuses upon excuses - That is all that they ever new how to spew. "Without me." spat the Spartan. "You know I had no choice! You must help me!" and help her she did, as he made way to the other side of the road, cutting off her hand's trees and vines that were binding her to the mountain wall. "Kratos, do I mean nothing to you?!" "You were a means to an end, Gaia. Nothing more." Kratos mimicked her words from their previous encounter, when she had left him to fall to his death. "But I must face Zeus. The Titans must take down Olympus!" she tried to plead to him, but it was no use. "No! This is MY war! NOT yours!" thus, she cut off her hand completely, letting her fall to her doom. Payback for your past actions, Gaia.

Pushing even her severed hand off the cliff to fall with her, Kratos reached the Door to Olympia. Engraved into it, it is said that the doors only open to the worthiest heroes, thus, one must destroy all enemies that stand in one's way. Yet another trial in which he must prove he can kill dozens of enemies - As if killing Gods wasn't enough of a worthy showmanship of power. Ridiculous until the end. He was not innocent of this - The only thing that they were good at was destroying everything in their path - Yet even he grew tired of the bloody path he has been walking for so many decades.

Finally, the doors opened, walked through the temple, only to find himself outside, watching the valiant battle between Helios and one of the Titans who threatened Olympus. He cared little for those two - In fact, he was fine moving along in his search for Zeus, but a chimera jumped on him and the God of the Sun was stupid enough to attack him, so now, he had to retaliate. Using the peculiar contraption before him, he aided the Titan into destroying Helios's chariot, scrunching it into his hand and smashing it against the mountain. Serves him right. Now, he can continue onwards.

Making his way towards the other wing of this city, walking along the mountain's wall and defeating more enemies, he jumped down a plateau, where he found Helios, bloody and deathly injured, yet with what looked like ghostly soldiers taking a famous Spartan defending position, with their shields protectively, like a tortoise shell, and their spears out, ready to attack. Helios had no right to use his people's strategies.

With ease, Kratos controlled the cyclops that appeared out of nowhere, to destroy the phalanx formation, and killing the foes, only the broken God remained, spitting blood on the ground. "Kratos. I have not forgotten the debt I owe you. Save me now, as you once saved me from Atlas, and I promise to repay you in full." the Gods' tongues know no shortage of lies and empty words. "If you wish to repay me, tell me where I can find the Flame of Olympus." Kratos tried, but it was clear where his loyalties waited. "The Flame? You will never defeat Zeus, Spartan. You will forfeit your life in trying." the broken God had no place making a mockery of Kratos's resolve, while his lower part was broken beyond repair. "Of all the lives you should worry about, Helios, mine is not one of them." though the Spartan did not expect that, with his last powers, Helion would invoke the power of the Sun, blinding him. He had to keep his face hidden and move forwards into the white light, and once he reached the God, he stomped on his head until he started yielding. "Wait! Wait! I can tell you that to destroy Zeus you must step into the Flame to receive its power!" lies - And such obvious ones. What a brainless fool. He had more than one chance to yield and be spared, yet he spat on his mercy, and thus, he will be killed. "You lie, Helios! Hephaestus told me the Flame kills all who touch it!" the look on his face was comical, in his desperation. What the Greek would call a Tragedy. "And you believe him?! That freak has fallen from the graces of Olympus!" all the more reason to take his word over this one's. "That is exactly why I believe him." Kratos worded his thoughts. "My death will not lead you to Zeus. In fact, maybe you should find a way and reach him faster. Weren't you the one who corrupted Katrina into losing her mind and choosing the wrong side in this war? Zeus captured her and is torturing her for information on you. Good luck finding her before she dies, Spartan." Helios grinned, though his powers were dissipating. "That is where you are wrong, Helios. I believe not a word that you speak." as revenge for all the lies, Kratos ripped the God's head, as painfully as humanly possible - Then stared up into the sky, watching as the Sun dissolved before his very eyes, and the night took over, along with endless rain.

Using the light emanating from his head, Kratos found a hidden door which was leading inside a cave, towards the Path of Eos. They say that those who see what the Gods see shall find the Path to Olympus. Katrina would know more about this - In fact, she would easily guide him all the way to Olympus. Alas, he could not help but worry greatly about her safety. Surely, she couldn't have truly been captured. There was no way she would have allowed herself to being imprisoned so easily. Still, it was Zeus they were talking about, she had no chance against him. But Helios was a shameless liar and only wanted to lay down a trap for him.

Deep inside the cave, towards a more suspiciously illuminated area, Kratos found another one of Pandora's statues, and the wisp was awaiting him. "Kratos! It's getting close!" "I told you. I cannot help you." he almost sounded dejected at the notion of allowing a child to be in danger. "But you're the only one who can. I know it. I trust you!" she pleaded to him dearly. Not even her sweet voice was able to mellow him out... For now. "You shouldn't." he advised her, as he moved forwards, using harpies to fly across certain regions of the cave, and he floated up the Chain of Balance with the help of the old wings of Icarus, jumping outside and ending up on the same titan's eye, only to easily push him off the mountain as well. No God, nor Titan will stand in his way of defeating Zeus, nor will they have the opportunity or satisfaction to even attempt such a feat.

Finally, he had reached the Caverns, a place with numerous hanging cubes... And the soothing melody was echoing even through this place... So it had not been some entity of the Underworld... Maybe he was hearing Katrina, and his ears or mind were just making up things on the go, because he was missing her so? For a few moments, he stopped thinking about his beloved so that he could focus on solving the cube mechanism, only to reach the highest one and meet... Yet another God. Hermes, of all of them. He turned to face him, and he held that very annoying, cocky smirk. How could Katrina hang around such a bloke, and even say she liked him? It was beyond his imagination.

"Oh, look who it is. Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta. The Fallen God. The Cursed Mortal." Hermes's taunting was as ridiculous as his voice. "To catch a fly from the ass of Zeus is not worth my time, Hermes." Kratos warned the God. "A coward's words, Kratos. You don't try to catch me because you know you can't. In fact - No one can." with that smug face of his, he immediately ran up the chain, and sat down, dangling his feet like a bratty child. "Kratos, where are you off today? Kill any family members lately? Oh, that's right, you're off to kill your father, Zeus." that laugh was getting on his nerves, and even for Katrina's sake, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from gutting this bastard like a fish. "Won't happen. Can't happen. Kratos is on a fool's errand. Again!" and he ran up the chain until the Spartan couldn't even see him anymore. "Never - Never learn~! Never - Never... Change! Kratos, the fool who killed his own blood! Kratos the fool among mortals and Gods! Forever - Ever cursed! Forever - Ever doomed!" with how dramatic his gesticulating is, he could at least see where the Goddess learnt to act her plays. "Consumed by vengeance to his last breath, the Spartan lights the way to dusty death!" with even more laughter, the stupidly annoying God ran up the entire chain, and Kratos started climbing after him. Forgive me for going to kill your friend, Katrina, but he cannot be allowed to live. He was able to reach the end of the chain, which brought him to the chamber that held the Flame of Olympus, though kept blocked and entrapped. Looking inside, he could see the old Pandora's Box, which he opened long, long ago. His hand instinctively reached to touch the Box, only to be stopped by the ghost of Athena. "What is the meaning of this?" Kratos asked, aggravated. "Your eyes do not deceive you, Kratos. It is the same box you opened years ago. The power to kill a God rests inside." Athena spoke, yet everything she said, was old news. "I released those powers when I killed Ares." Kratos stated obviously. "No. Trapped inside that box, there is a stronger power. It has been missing from the world." she had informed him solemnly. "It all began when Zeus triumphed over the Titans in the Great War. Zeus understood that the evils born from the battle, if left free, would destroy the world of man and Gods. To contain these evils, Zeus commanded Hephaestus to build a vessel strong enough to hold them. Fear. Greed. Hate. He locked them all away in the box in hopes that they would never again infect his reign. When you opened the box to kill Ares, you drew from the forbidden powers. After witnessing your victory, fear gripped Zeus." Athena's story now made sense. "But the Flame is deadly. How can I recover the box?" like any problem, there is a solution. "With its namesake, Kratos." Kratos called out the child's name without even realising. "She is the key to destroying the Flame. The key to our revenge. This will be difficult, Spartan." "A simple child will not trouble me, Athena." Kratos's resolve was set in stone... But could he truly sacrifice an innocent child, so easily? "I hope you are right, Ghost of Sparta. May you let nothing and... No one... Hinder your judgement." the Spartan needn't be told what the vision was referring to - He knew that Katrina would be vehemently opposed to sacrificing a child for something like this - And rightfully so. Still, Zeus had to be killed.

The man went outside onto the balcony to scour the area - Though lonesome, it was... Sad. The world was plunged in chaos and mankind had to pay the price dearly, for the death of Poseidon, Hades and Helios. Kratos did not care though. Forever night, forever rain, forever wind - He cared little for everything, except ending his father's life. Floods have swallowed the lands and the sky is veiled by clouds and unbridled storms. Let the chaos reign.

With the new knowledge about the Flame, Kratos was able to find his way, by using the Light, to a mural of the Muses - In music, untold truths be spoke to those willing to hear it. Join your voice to the Muses's song and lift Olympus's burden. - Said the engraving before the painting... If Katrina were here, things would have been much simpler. The mural next to it depicted the Gear of Burden - With the weight of Olympus upon it, the Gear of Burden is not easily moved, requiring a great sacrifice to free the Heart of the Labyrinth. The next one spoke about the Heart of the Labyrinth - Beating in the Heart of the Labyrinth is a passion great enough to douse even the Flame of Olympus, and lay bare the power that lies within.

As Kratos finished reading the engraving, he heard that annoying voice again. "You may have brute force, but you lack speed." that pest claimed, laughing, mocking and running amok. "You've been lucky in battle, Spartan. But your luck ends today." Hermes smirked, playing around with his coin. He could barely phantom that he was forced to go against the man that his own wife loved so dearly - It was ridiculous. He could care less about the Spartan's life, but he feared hers, should Kratos truly meet his end during this quest. "What makes you think you can ever catch me?" though he taunted and ran away, hoping to tire down the Spartan, Hermes could only think of his coin - Heads for the Gods, Tails for Kratos... And the third option. What was the third option? Was there even a third option? He tried and tried, but he could thinking of nothing that would work in both their favours, especially as he made the Spartan ran about the Olympian Citadel, and made fun of him for being so slow. He told Kratos that no one could reach his speed - But he lied. Of course he did, that's what he did best, after all! Even so, there was one person alone who was ever capable of being a worthy opponent while playing Tag.

Katrina.

He remembers, as very young children, how he would watch her constantly running - Mostly, running away from the Olympians who were mocking her. Was it her lineage? Her mother - Whoever that may have been? Was it how lovesick she was - But wasn't Aphrodite the same? Perhaps it must have been how shy she was? Or that she preferred the company of flowers and animals over her own kin? Poor child. Still, she kept running, down in the mortal realm's forests, running with the animals and practicing her nature-creating powers and what not.

Since then, when they were mere children, Hermes was watching her dearly - And it was then, that he started speaking to her and challenged her to tag games and speed contests - Though, his cocky attitude did not bode well with her low self-esteem and she thought that he hated how, just like everyone else... But that was not the case. She was able to find her own niche of friends, from Anteros and Aphrodite, Eros and Psyche, Hestia, Demeter and even Hekate, Asclepius, Hebe, and Apollo and Artemis. She could see the appeal in overly social interactions and fun-having at parties, she simply could not partake in it, despite even being jealous of him and Dionysus and how much fun they had drinking and jesting around.

Alas, Hermes always thought, the good are always the one being trampled over by the corrupt - And he was no different. He often tricked Katrina, and even abused her benevolence as she never got angry at him and continued to aid him with whatever it was that he needed... With time, however, he started to appreciate and see the wrong in his ways, thus, showing her how to catch up with him while running.

And she did.

Together they could run around the world with no problem, and still have enough energy to play around. Ah, the good times, when she would still offer him that sweet giggle of hers... Ah - Ah - Ah, no time for memories, he is about to fall down the great statue of Athena - What an annoying character she is, even in death. Hermes was now feeling fatigue take over him - Though the Spartan was nowhere close to matching his speed, his tricks worked into tiring him in the long run. "I will not be bested by a mortal...!" he cried out, realising that the he was facing the exact dilemma of his coin - Even now, he did not look upon it. Was it Heads? Was it Tails? In truth, he was afraid of seeing what it was.

If it was Heads, he would kill Kratos, and he would have to see the distraught look on Katrina's face - Because her own husband killed the love of her life. The one over whom she had wept for a century. The one who was promised to her since the beginning of life itself.

On the other hand, if it was Tails... He will die. He wasn't even sure if she would weep over him, yet the mere notion that she agreed to be his wife, allowed him to shower her with affection, in spite of not being her real soul mate... The fact that she gave him the opportunity of seeing all the beautiful and silly sides of her, the jests, the stories, the songs, the dances and the plays... All the gossips they shared, and the games they played... He wanted to see her one last time, at least. He was greedy and selfish - He was, after all, a God of Olympus - That is how all Gods were!

But Kratos's blades were heavy on him, and he could see his vision blurring from the pain he was feeling. "I thought Spartans fought with honour, and yet you seek to kill me, when I have no means to defend myself? Not fair." he whined, looking up with spite at the Spartan, only to avert his eyes and see the blood - HIS blood - spilled on the ground. "But you have your own sense of honour, right, Kratos? And what has the honour brought you?! Nothing but nightmares of your failure!" Hermes was able to pull himself back on his feet, ready to try, for the last time, to outrun his opponent, despite how exhausted he felt.

This was the Messenger God's last marathon ran - It was the only thing he was truly great at. Running. He may be the God of many things - Thievery, sea men, trade, whores, humankind and whatever - But, beyond everything, his speed was worth more than him. It was almost pathetic to think that his worth was measured in how great the boots made him. "Today you may defeat me, but in the end, Kratos - In the end, you'll betray only yourself and Katrina!" he could hear the Spartan approaching with rapid footsteps - There it is, he was doomed to die on the slippery grounds of Olympus, outside, in the pouring rain. How absolutely pitiful.

"STOP!" what was that voice...?

Suddenly, Hermes fell to the ground, tackled... But the force was nothing compared to that muscle head's. "How could you...?" Katrina? "HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?!" he had never heard her screaming before. It was absolute frightening... No, rather, is was heart breaking. "Katrina? What -... You are alright." the Spartan spoke, looking down at the woman, looking in perfect shape, except for the forlorn expression on her face - She looked desperate. "Yes, of course I am! Ever since I saw you falling, I tried to look for a way to contact you. Hestia was too afraid to try to portal trick again... In truth, there was no one to dig a whole reaching there either. So I went to Hekate, who showed me your journey there. I was so afraid for you that I could not leave her until I saw you stepping out of there." though she spoke to him, her arms were holding the Messenger God, and trembling visibly. "I am happy to see you are alive, my love. I truly am. But please, tell me... Why are the two of you trying to kill each other?" her voice was soft that, through all the thundering and roars of the rain, it could have easily been missed. "He stood in my way." came Kratos's reply. The red head turned her head to look at the God in her arms, who looked as guilty as never expected. The Spartan was genuinely impressed. "Zeus made me!" the cowardly God latched his arms around the girl. "You know how scary he can be! I tried, you know? I tried, I truly did! But no one truly knows what happens what Olympus falls. I was afraid for our home, Kat! You believe me, don't you? Please, tell me that you do or I will cry!" but the more he spoke, the more disappointed and pained the girl looked. "You are a fool, Hermes. You truly are." she spoke, hanging her head. "There are enough people who died from less. Have you also taunted Kratos? No, tell me naught, I am sure you did." Kratos could see the remorse and shame from being reprimanded by the woman holding him. What exactly was the relationship between those two? "Kat - No, please, don't cry. No, no, no, Gods, no, don't cry -- Kitty? Sweety? Princess? My dear? Honey? Angel? My flower?" Hermes was panicking, seeing the Goddess unable to contain the tears falling down her face, mixing perfectly with the rain drops. "Enough." her voice was broken, and so was he. "Hermes... That is enough. You have done it. Have I not told you not to mess with Kratos? Did you think I was messing with you? Even after everything... You think you can go around and make fun of him... And live with such offense?" gradually, her trembling voice was raising. "I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU FROM YOURSELF, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!" her yelling so distressed made his mind spin like a vertigo. "TO HELL WITH ZEUS! TO HELL WITH OLYMPUS! TO HELL WITH ALL OF YOU, AND EVERYTHING!" she pushed him away, standing up. "WHAT ABOUT ME?!" the woman asked. "WHAT ABOUT ME, HERMES?! WHEN IS IT MY TIME TO BE HAPPY?! ALL OF YOU - ALL OF YOU, SELFISH BASTARDS - YOU WERE ALL HAVING YOUR FUN AMONGST THEMSELVES, AND I SAID NOTHING! SO WHY -- WHY MUST EVEN YOU GO AGAINST MY HAPPY ENDING?!" she surely did not realise, but angry liana were swinging around her. She was lost in her emotions. "You - You, of all people, knew how much Kratos means to me -- And you, my own husband - You tried to KILL him?! What about all the promises you made to me that day? When you promised to be by my side, for as long as I'll have you? That you'll take care of me, and make me smile, and all of those empty lies you gave me?! And our friendship when we were children -- Hermes -- Was everything just a game for you?! An elaborate ploy to continue making fun of me?! Were you -- Were you telling the other Gods about how gullible that stupid flower girl is? Did you tell them what we were doing together? The songs me made? The silly jokes and cheesy confessions? The dramas and the... Was everything... A lie?" now, he had a clear picture of her life. Katrina never told him that she was married to Hermes, nor did she ever show any ounce of romance towards the man. By the looks of it, she merely saw him as her friend, and in need of comfort, she accepted his affections. But it did not bode well with him, seeing her so hurt over his actions. Kratos was not going to kill Hermes, should he not have provoked him or stood in his way. It was a tragic situation - Once again, there is nothing but suffering following them. "NO! No - Kat - NO! None of that was ever a lie! I swear to you - I vow, I... I everything! I will do anything, as long as I can prove to you that I was being genuine through everything! I am happy that you are my wife, and I am fine, knowing that you love another man - It's fine! I knew you two were meant together. I resigned myself to that long ago! I had fun, I always did, and you are the person dearest to me! Please believe me!" to see a God, on his knees, pleading and begging like that, was truly a sight to behold. "You were my best friend, Hermes... Why did you have to ruin everything?" she asked, unable to even look at him. "Please, Kat, please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I swear to you, I did not know what to do! I flipped my coin, but a coin has only two faces! Heads was that Zeus wins and Kratos dies, which only meant I would live to see you hurt -- But Tails meant Kratos killed us all, and I would never get to see you again! What could I have done?! I was confused and afraid, just like all of us are!" the man was groveling on the ground - The Spartan wanted to step forward and end it, but the Goddess's vines stopped him. "And what side did you see?" Katrina asked, looking down at him with such a stoic, apathetic look, that one might have said she was a statue. "...I did not look. I was too afraid of the outcome." the God admitted, guilty. "Men must live with the consequences of their own actions. But men are not tied to fate - Men MAKE their own fate. They create their own path, and walk that way. You chose a side of the coin without even realising. In your head, you chose Heads from the very beginning. You are afraid of death and of losing the luxurious, happy life which you have thrived on. Am I wrong?" neither men heard her speak with such edge before. It was frightening how even the kindest can be brought to the end of her limits. "... Not entirely. I tried to think of a third option, but... I found nothing that worked." there was silence for a while - And Katrina extended her hand, so that Hermes would give her his coin. As soon as the little golden one was in her hand, she used her liana to rip away the shoes from his feet and handed them to Kratos. "You will not be in need of them anymore. Be grateful I gave you no pain. Kratos would have cut off your legs entirely." she spoke, feeling the Spartan take away the winged sandals. "On the other hand... I had already thought of a third option for you. Will you hear it?" she asked, kneeling before him. Seeing him desperate for her, she opened her palms, revealing the coin. Kratos was confused about all the metaphor around that pesky coin - Only to see her morph the golden coin into a beautiful flower, which she put into the God's fiery hair. She had forgiven him. It meant that, once again, a God's fate was in his hands. Hermes was outright sobbing on the ground, groveling at her feet, clinging onto her desperately. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! KAT, PLEASE, I NEED YOU! I NEED YOU IN MY LIFE! YOU ARE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE! MY BEST FRIEND! MY SWEET, LITTLE KITTEN! PLEASE --" but the Goddess stepped away from him. "Kratos... If you love me... Then please, do not kill him. He will not hinder you again. I can promise you that." she did not look back at him, but as a response, he only grunted. It was a nuisance, but he needed nothing more from the overly loud God. "Perhaps our paths will meet again. Until then... Better find a way down the Mountain... Before it goes down... Like everything else in life, that is." her voice was devoid of any joy or emotion - She seemed... Someone else entirely.

Kratos looked down at the broken man, calling out to Katrina desperately and seeking forgiveness. The Spartan did not need to kill Hermes. Hermes has already killed himself. Kicking him aside, Kratos stepped past him and joined Katrina's step - Yet she did not speak. She seemed... Tired. And Angry. He was afraid of what would happen, should the both of them be vengeful and filled with rage, letting that cloud their judgement. Usually, if something were to happen, she were the rational one. Alas, he knew that, with everything going on, he could not afford to teach or level out someone's anger, when he, himself, could not control his own.

"What troubles you?" Kratos asked, continuing to walk up and down across the palace with ease, thanks to the winged sandals. "I have realised something that displeases me greatly." she spoke. "During my stay at Hekate, she has shown me your trip. I have seen Athena. She is more disgusting and treacherous now than she was before." the woman spat, speaking of her sister. Soon, they reached the Flame of Olympus once more. "Secondly... I have realised that... Once you opened the Box... Not even I was spared from the awful fate... Of being inflicted with out of the dreads locked inside. And it has clouded my judgement since the fall of Ares. I am upset that I have not come to my senses sooner. I do not want to hinder your journey." she continued explaining. "But I have been battling my misery since then. Now I understand why I was so desperately afraid of losing you, or Hermes or any of my friends. Why I was so afraid of being alone. I was being selfish. And greedy. Now, more than ever, because of Pandora's Box. How pitiful to think that the Mighty Gods of Olympus could fall pray to such a silly concept." it was clear for Kratos that her woes were hammered deep within her very core. "You had no way of knowing. No one did. Do not blame yourself for something like that." Kratos spoke, reaching out his hand to touch her shoulder, squeezing it for reassurance. "The two of us will not die this day, and I have not killed Hermes, nor will I your friends, should they not get in my way. There is nothing to be afraid of anymore." he noticed her gulping and hanging her head, her brows furrowed, though she nodded, accepting his sage words. "I know. Mentally. Rationally. I know. Even so, my heart... It feels like a restless vortex that will not stop. And... It hurts. This hurts makes me do ridiculous things. I cannot understand why this happens. Perhaps if we kill Zeus and open Pandora's Box again, this... Whatever this is, will disappear. What do you think?" she asked, almost as if she had hope. "It is a possibility - And if does not happen, I will find a way." his words must have had an impact on her, for she snapped her head towards him and her eyes were desperately searching for the truth in his eyes - Though, as always, she found it. "Truly? Do you think I can finally find peace within myself when this is all over?" she found herself in his embrace once more - And for the short time that she was in the safe haven that she found in his arms, she felt just that. Inner peace. "Of course."

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

#god of war imagine #god of war x reader #god of war #kratos imagine #kratos x reader #kratos #deicide #deicide chapter 6 #gow #gow x reader #god imagine

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valorxdrive · 1 year

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When you think you can't go on, when you lack the strength to even move, and when everything seems hopeless... Sora. Find your Flame. Let it burn.

♕ - As it stands, for all great heights that he reaches, the stark awareness that something insidiously greater waits with wicked tooth and claws turns out to be fearfully true. Currently doused in a pool of his own blood, his beloved blade tucked into a grip that refuses to relent, the grim reality of his current situation grows all too blinding with abyssal darkness. Even now the drenched appetite of a dangerous hunger flares threatening upon his senses, the agents born from the great amalgamation were here to collect.

The hero who broke all boundaries.

Who believed no sacred law to be too great of a price for his beloved friends.

Someone who stepped to the scales of an unwilling planewalker.

'This... Can't be the end.. I... Promised...' No. Amidst this grueling pain, of the searing burns and cuts across his frame, what dawns within his memory is the crystalline clear oath that he bravely declared upon the sunkissed shores of Destiny Island. That resolution has served as a fiery and courage armor, a blinding light that made him willingly prepared to endure the scale of loneliness that oblivion itself would draw as his only companion.

..And even now? It hasn't exactly turned out the way he thought it would. As a boundless number of thorn knitted Heartless approached, as the hollow, ghastly sheen of Nobodies also prepared to descend, claw, spear and magic towards him, a voice manages to succeed in breaking through the violent chaos determined to make him ill focus. The endless sensation of falling is suddenly stunned, left in a state of perpetually frozen time as a voice manages to bring kindle to that dwindling flame that hangs upon a dangerous precipice.

'W.. Who is...?'

Their offered courage is in essence, an incredibly simple message, the sort that finds itself carried in the hearts of many yet never fully believed. However, for the lonely Keybearer who remains adrift upon the primordial cosmic pool of creation itself, the fact that these words alone could manage to caress his heart with a tender message is enough to let a heart fueled by a genuine and true love find it's once veiled luster, to discover a reminder of that great strength he forged in order to brave the very wrath of Kingdom Hearts drenched in darkness itself.

An echoing, roaring heartbeat slams through his chest, reverberating beyond as it allows a knowing shiver to erupt through the hero's Heart of Hearts. With the domain of everlasting darkness, the once stasis induced realm discovers ripples as the struggling heart begins to find the strength of warmth once again.

Power, a deep, profound light manages to to reflect a glittering brilliance upon his very being. As his fingertips scratched at the vantablack surrounding him, the Kingdom Key fixed within his grip begins to hum with life, scraping against the ground as Sora's body fights through the incomprehensible weight of potential demise, of the comfort of sleep that would be too happy to steal him away from the pain of life.

Thinking about them..

And not only that, more, think about the very strength you've rightfully earned through your perilous passage of self discovery.

The very worth that so many spoke of, praised and believed in.

Against that very demon better known as your self-doubt, you triumphed amidst that dangerous whisper and the wrath of Xehanort's machinations...

You believed in yourself.

Brilliant torrents emerge from his being, igniting a massive, forceful shockwave that blows away all opposition as the frozen stint of time is shattered back to normalcy. The once blurry vision of his eyesight finds itself restored, drawn to pristine clarity as the agonizing fury of his wounds are blended back to shining health due to a blessed angel's kiss. Even now, the dual rush of his racing hearts within, body and soul were continuing to drum up the hidden force that despair nearly claimed as the greatest morsel.

Use this strength to protect yourself and others. Let it become a beacon of not only hope, but a power that can bring the best out of those who intend to fight for the world.

Recognizing this, Sora once again awakens.

A rolling sheen of cosmic power begins to engulf his figure, allowing an unnatural blow glow to encompass Oathkeeper and Oblivion, allowing their potential to shore to those once untold degrees as revealed before, the Kingdom Key happily allowing the spotlight to ignite upon newly conjured weapons. Taking his stance as the endless army of darkness draws its preparations...

Sora was no different.

"This isn't over yet!"

#Anon #| Bottle Mail #Your message was well received!#the perfect elixir

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xasha777 · 1 day

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In the emerald underglow of the bioluminescent forest, Claudia Mori stood out like a beacon. Her vibrant pink hair, a stark contrast to her surroundings, was not merely a statement of style but a genetic adaptation, a camouflage for the neon flora of her home planet, Neonox. The color shifted subtly with her emotions, a side effect of the bio-augmentation process that every Neonoxian underwent at birth.

Eyes that mirrored the shade of the youngest leaves, Claudia’s gaze was penetrating, almost disconcerting. She was an Envoy, a peacekeeper trained in the delicate art of diplomacy and espionage. In a universe where alliances were as fluid as the quantum currents, Claudia's role was vital.

The mission today was no ordinary one. Claudia was to retrieve the Cynosure Core, a powerful source of energy stolen by the rogue scientists of the Obsidian Order. The Core's unique ability to manipulate time had made it a coveted artifact, and it was hidden deep within the folds of the Quantum Forest, a place where reality rippled in waves and where the future and past seemed to intertwine.

As Claudia ventured deeper into the forest, the air hummed with invisible energy. She felt the weight of her responsibility; the Core was not just a power source but a beacon of hope for a treaty between feuding galactic federations.

A sudden shift in the air pressure indicated she was not alone. The Obsidian Order had anticipated her arrival. Claudia’s mind raced. Her bio-augmentation allowed her to blend into her environment, but it wouldn’t fool the sophisticated sensors of the Order for long.

She came to a clearing where the light seemed to dance, flickering in a rhythm that suggested intelligence. There, suspended in a column of shifting light, was the Cynosure Core. Guarded by drones that hovered like silent sentinels, it seemed almost serene amidst the chaos.

Claudia activated the cloaking device built into her suit, a piece of technology reverse-engineered from a downed alien craft decades ago. Her figure blurred against the backdrop of the Quantum Forest, and she advanced, her heart steady but her mind alert.

Then, an unexpected anomaly: a temporal distortion, a tear in the fabric of time that spiraled outward from the Core. Claudia knew the dangers. A single misstep, and she could be lost to the ages, her existence scattered across a thousand timelines.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the Core, and the world went silent. The drones fell like leaves from a dying tree, their power source now in Claudia's hands. As she deactivated the Core, the forest's light dimmed, and the temporal distortion began to close.

But the victory was not hers alone. A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, with eyes that mirrored the dying light. "You are not the only one seeking peace," the figure spoke, his voice a resonant baritone.

He introduced himself as Jace Varian, a former scientist of the Obsidian Order who had defected, unwilling to witness the devastation the misuse of the Core could bring. Together, they could negotiate the future, ensure that the Cynosure Core would be used to heal rather than harm.

Claudia Mori, with the Core now secure in her possession and an unexpected ally by her side, knew that the road ahead was uncertain. But in the galaxy's constant dance of light and shadow, she was a step closer to a brighter future. The peace she had trained for all her life felt within reach, and as she emerged from the Quantum Forest, the horizon held the promise of a new dawn for all.

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buysteamdeckonline · 1 month

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Navigating the Maze: A Gamer's Guide to Buying Video Games

In the vast and ever-expanding universe of video games, the journey of purchasing the perfect title can feel akin to embarking on a grand adventure. With an abundance of options spanning genres, platforms, and pricing tiers, navigating this labyrinthine landscape requires a discerning eye and a touch of strategic finesse. Fear not, fellow gamer, for in this guide, we shall unravel the mysteries of Buy Video Games, equipping you with the tools and insights needed to emerge triumphant in your quest for digital bliss.

Deciphering the Game Market

1. Understanding Your Gaming Persona

Know Thyself: Before delving into the fray, take a moment to reflect on your gaming preferences, pondering the genres, themes, and mechanics that resonate most deeply with your gaming persona.

Explore and Experiment: Don't shy away from venturing beyond familiar territories – the gaming realm is rife with hidden gems waiting to be discovered.

2. Exploring Platforms and Ecosystems

Console Conundrum: Are you a die-hard console aficionado, or does the allure of PC gaming beckon? Each platform boasts its own unique ecosystem, replete with exclusive titles and community dynamics.

Embracing Diversity: From mainstream consoles like PlayStation and Xbox to the burgeoning landscape of cloud gaming services, explore the myriad platforms at your disposal, keeping an open mind to new horizons.

Navigating the Purchase Process

1. Research, Research, Research

Harnessing the Power of Reviews: Dive deep into user reviews, gaming forums, and reputable review sites to glean insights into a game's quality, performance, and overall appeal.

Trailers and Teasers: Embark on a visual journey through gameplay trailers and teasers, immersing yourself in the tantalizing worlds and mechanics that await.

2. Price Point Paradox

Budgetary Constraints: While the allure of new releases is undeniable, consider the economic realities of your gaming budget. Remember, quality gaming experiences need not come with a hefty price tag.

Patience Pays Dividends: Harness the power of patience and strategic timing, keeping a keen eye out for discounts, bundle deals, and seasonal sales that can yield substantial savings.

Embracing the Digital Frontier

1. Digital Distribution Dynamics

Convenience Is Key: Embrace the convenience and accessibility of digital distribution platforms like Steam, Epic Games Store, and PlayStation Network, where a world of gaming awaits at the click of a button.

DLC and Expansion Packs: Factor in the long-term value proposition of downloadable content (DLC) and expansion packs, which can breathe new life into your favorite titles and prolong the gaming experience.

2. Community and Connectivity

Forge Bonds, Join Guilds: Dive headfirst into the vibrant communities and social ecosystems surrounding your favorite games, forging bonds with fellow players, and embarking on collaborative adventures.

Multiplayer Marvels: Explore the exhilarating realm of multiplayer gaming, where camaraderie, competition, and shared triumphs await amidst the chaos of virtual battlefields.

Seizing the Moment: Making the Purchase

1. Retail Revelations

Brick-and-Mortar vs. Online: Navigate the dichotomy between traditional retail outlets and online marketplaces, weighing the pros and cons of physical copies versus digital downloads.

Pre-Order Predicament: Exercise caution when considering pre-orders, ensuring that the allure of exclusive bonuses doesn't overshadow critical considerations of game quality and value.

2. Post-Purchase Reflections

Leverage Feedback Loops: Share your gaming experiences through user reviews and social media platforms, contributing to the collective wisdom of the gaming community and guiding fellow adventurers on their own quests.

Adapt and Evolve: Embrace the dynamic nature of gaming culture, remaining agile and adaptable in the face of technological advancements, industry trends, and shifting player preferences.

youtube

Conclusion: A Quest Unending

In the realm of video games, every purchase is a step along an endless odyssey – a journey marked by discovery, challenge, and boundless possibility. Armed with the insights gleaned from this guide, you stand poised to embark on your own epic quest for digital greatness, equipped with the knowledge and savvy needed to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the gaming market. So, dear gamer, heed the call to adventure, and may your gaming exploits be as legendary as the tales that inspire them.

#Buy PS5 Games #Build Gaming PC Online #Built Custom gaming pc near me #PS5 console near me #buy nintendo switch #buy steam deck online #Gaming ecommerce #Youtube

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retinafunk · 2 months

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vimeo

Turbulence from Vadim Epstein on Vimeo.

This is a short film, exploring ambient storytellling with a narrative hidden within the abstract graphics. In this project, turbulence is reimagined not merely as a phenomenon of fluid dynamics born from chaos, nor as a marker of disarray. Instead, we see it as a deep reflection on the vibrant essence of life itself — a beautiful metaphor for the universe whispering the secrets of its vitality, a symbol of the eternal flux, carving new paths through the bedrock of reality. Central to this vision is the delicate balance between order and disorder, the sensitivity of the cosmos to the flutter of a butterfly's wings, and the emergence of patterns both unpredictable and inherently ordered from the depths of turmoil, guiding us toward new equilibriums. We treat this as a manifestation, a grand exhibition of the everlasting dance and interplay of world forces, a perpetual state of motion and renewal, where the potential unfolds into the actual while being still concealed under the dense foam of everyday life. This artwork tells a story, albeit one not immediately apparent. It draws upon a diversity of subjects, symbolizing the rich tapestry of life across both the natural and cultural domains, yet veils them beneath the surface of swirling currents; transcending their physical origins to embody the metaphysical energies of change and creation — not as a gentle process but as an explosive act.

This piece is a conceptual prequel to Little Science vimeo.com/734483480.

image: Vadim Epstein sound: Alexander Potekhin [Lazyfish] & Andrei Antonets [0ID] code: Stable Diffusion, RAVE, NI Reaktor 2024

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vinceviralfreak · 7 months

Text

Title: The Age of Judgment

Chapter 1: The Awakening

In the year 2150, humanity found itself at a crossroads. The rapid advancements in technology had brought about a new era, where the boundaries between the physical and digital worlds blurred. As society adapted to this new reality, a global governing body known as the World Council emerged, aiming to maintain order and justice in this brave new world.

The World Council introduced a revolutionary system called the Future Law, which utilized advanced artificial intelligence to predict and prevent crimes before they even occurred. This system, known as the Judgment Algorithm, analyzed vast amounts of data, from personal information to behavioral patterns, to identify potential threats to society.

Chapter 2: The Judgment Algorithm

The Judgment Algorithm became the cornerstone of the World Council's efforts to uphold the law. It was designed to be impartial, fair, and incorruptible. The algorithm's decisions were based solely on data, eliminating any human biases or prejudices. The world watched in awe as the algorithm successfully prevented countless crimes, making the streets safer than ever before.

However, as time went on, concerns began to arise. Some argued that the algorithm's predictions were too invasive, infringing upon personal privacy. Others questioned the morality of punishing individuals for crimes they had not yet committed. The debate intensified, dividing society into two factions: those who believed in the infallibility of the algorithm and those who feared its power.

Chapter 3: The Resistance

A group of rebels, known as the Resistance, emerged from the shadows. They believed that the Future Law system was a threat to individual freedom and autonomy. Led by a brilliant hacker named Ava, the Resistance sought to expose the flaws in the Judgment Algorithm and restore humanity's right to make their own choices.

Ava and her team embarked on a dangerous mission to infiltrate the World Council's headquarters, hoping to find evidence of the algorithm's fallibility. As they delved deeper into the heart of the system, they discovered a shocking truth: the algorithm was not as infallible as it seemed. It was susceptible to manipulation, and its predictions were often influenced by hidden agendas.

Chapter 4: The Battle for Justice

Armed with this knowledge, Ava and her team launched a campaign to expose the truth to the world. They rallied support from those who had lost faith in the algorithm and began a global movement demanding transparency and accountability from the World Council.

As the Resistance gained momentum, the World Council fought back, desperate to maintain control. They unleashed their own technological advancements, deploying drones and surveillance systems to track down the rebels. The battle for justice escalated, with both sides using every resource at their disposal to gain the upper hand.

Chapter 5: The Future Unveiled

In the midst of the chaos, a breakthrough occurred. A brilliant scientist, who had once worked on the Judgment Algorithm, defected from the World Council and joined forces with the Resistance. Together, they developed a new system that combined the best of human judgment and artificial intelligence.

This new system, called the Balanced Law, aimed to strike a delicate balance between the need for security and the preservation of individual rights. It incorporated human oversight and ethical considerations, ensuring that justice was served without sacrificing personal freedom.

Chapter 6: A New Beginning

With the unveiling of the Balanced Law, society began to heal. The World Council, humbled by their mistakes, embraced the new system and worked towards rebuilding trust with the people. The Resistance, having achieved their goal, transitioned into a watchdog organization, ensuring that the World Council remained true to their promises.

As the world moved forward, the lessons learned from the Age of Judgment served as a reminder of the importance of human judgment and the dangers of relying solely on technology. The future held the promise of a society where justice and freedom coexisted, guided by the wisdom of both man and machine.

The Age of Judgment had come to an end, but its impact would forever shape the destiny of humanity.

#scfi

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forcesmajor · 8 months

Text

Personality & Backstory

Personality

Heath DeLuca’s passion for understanding the mysteries of physics and the nature of existence fuels his identity as a theoretical physicist and dedication to teaching. This enthusiasm inspires students despite his own grief. The devastating loss of his wife and daughter in a tragic fire reveals Heath’s remarkable resilience to channel emotional pain into productivity and purpose. Yet beneath his strength lies profound sorrow that emerges in somber undertones during lectures. Heath strives for equilibrium between personal wounds that prompt deep introspection and steadfast resolve to illuminate the workings of the cosmos. His introspective nature lends itself to philosophical contemplation about loss, meaning, and the human spirit. He grapples to reconcile tragedy with his responsibility to motivate young minds.

Ultimately adversity deepens Heath’s compassion and empathy alongside intellectual pursuits. His complex personality balances the weight of grief with determination, vulnerability with strength, and passionate curiosity with contemplative wisdom. He navigates life’s complexity with emotional depth and an unrelenting quest to comprehend science and soul. Heath emerges a multidimensional character - one who transforms hardship into a platform for growth and channels suffering into the art of teaching. His life intertwines the human and cosmic as he works to uncover order and inspiration amidst personal desolation.

Backstory

Professor Heath DeLuca had long been fascinated by physics and the intricate laws governing the cosmos. This passion deeply defined his identity and career path in theoretical physics, where his days were filled with equations, experiments, and teaching. However, underneath his scholarly dedication lay profound personal grief. Years before, a devastating fire had destroyed the DeLuca family home, claiming the lives of his beloved wife Eleanor, an artist whose vibrant spirit infused her paintings, and their curious young daughter Amelia.

The aftermath of this tragedy left wounds that struggled to heal, fragmenting Professor DeLuca's inner light. The absence of his wife and daughter was a continuous heartache, a void he attempted to fill by immersing himself in physics. His workplace became a shrine commemorating his hidden sorrow, with equations and diagrams encircling cherished photos of happier times. His research and experiments served as a means to channel emotional anguish into productivity as he sought order amidst the chaos of bereavement.

Yet despite Professor DeLuca's determined efforts, the burden of grief remained formidable. Over time, his cognitive health gradually declined, compromising his grip on reality. Bittersweet memories of his family warped into disturbing visions permeating his conscious mind. The laughter of days past twisted into voices and visions that now besieged his waking hours.

Unable to differentiate between the vivid images of his past and the present moment, he lost his grip on the world around him. The equations that once flowed effortlessly from his mind now tangled into knots, and the clarity he once possessed was replaced by a fog of confusion. The once-honored professor found himself adrift in a sea of chaos.

Recognizing the gravity of his mental state, his colleagues and friends intervened with heavy hearts. With their support, Professor DeLuca was gently admitted to a psychiatric hospital, a place where he could receive the care he desperately needed.

Within the sterile walls of the institution, he faced his inner demons head-on. Therapy sessions became a lifeline, helping him navigate the labyrinthine corridors of his own mind. Day by day, he painstakingly worked to separate reality from delusion, searching for glimmers of the brilliance that once defined him.

It was a road marked by both frustration and tentative progress. Some days, the anguish was so overwhelming he could barely lift his head. But gradually, with the unwavering support of his caregivers, he began reassembling fragments of his shattered psyche.

As the fog lifted, Professor DeLuca's inner resilience emerged. His recovery was arduous, yet it was a profound testament to the tenacity of the human spirit. While remnants of his ordeal lingered as scars, they also bore witness to his struggle and hard-won victory.

Emerging from the depths, Professor DeLuca re-entered the world forever changed by his transformative experience. This harrowing journey had not left him broken, but rather shaped him into one who had confronted the abyss and emerged with newfound wisdom and perspective.

Upon returning to the university, he resumed his quest for knowledge with revitalized enthusiasm. His lectures, once tinged with solemnity, now possessed a profoundness stemming from personal insight. While his passion for the cosmos remained undimmed, it had expanded to encompass a deep empathy for the intricacies of the human psyche.

His lectures still bore a somber undercurrent, hinting to those familiar with his past battles with inner demons. Although his zeal for teaching had diminished, he persisted in motivating his students, acknowledging the importance of his role despite wrestling with private torment.

Resilient, Professor DeLuca forged onward. He found solace within Princeton's historic halls, using them as a sanctuary to uncover moments of beauty and brilliance amidst the aching absence of family. In the intersection of history and present, he stood steadfast, seeking equilibrium between grief's gravity and the magnetic pull of the universe's mysteries.

Though scars remained, his spirit had emerged tempered yet unbroken. Professor DeLuca now moved with the hard-won wisdom of one who glimpsed the darkness, but turned again with relentless fortitude towards the light. Within both the cosmos and human heart, he would continue on in determined search of understanding.

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yunessa · 9 months

Text

Chapter 12: Zealots and Priests

There is something to be said for inquisitors. On one hand those trained with an eye to be suspicious and trusting of nobody are invaluable in uncovering secrets and corruption. They can find threads you never saw, spot connections and clues hidden with the years to find the cold truth long buried. Their dedication to any cause is admirable and a worthy shield against the enemy. They are the subjects of heroic songs and ballads, inspiration to their fellow soldiers and men alike. On the other hand it’s a zealot. There is nothing worse than a zealot who would burn a forest to destroy a tree or who would burn a family alive to ‘save their souls’. Cruel, devoid of empathy, and blinded by the desire to see everything against their cause removed. So that victory is a surety and not a flickering hope. I have never met a zealotI liked, no matter what cloth they were cut from. There is something inherently dangerous in a zealot. I can’t claim to be a good sort. But I never have tried to say I was.The best you can do is balance. Society changes as time flows, as does its views of right and wrong. It’s good to steal to avoid dying of hunger, but such it is still wrong to steal. Balance is optimal but how can you successfully balance against mortal nature? No matter how you set the scales they will change faster than you can adjust for. Such is mortal nature. It is better to work your way above the flaws inherent in your nature than to pretend they never were. The question still remains however: If you lead then at some point you must find some way to adjust the scales. You need suspicious eyes under your command as much as you need those who will ignore the laws to do good. Rules must be bendable or they will shatter under the brittle nature of the law. How do you adjust those scales? How can you, in this moment, this situation, in this position, balance those scales? As much as I have tried to balance the scale I’ve only found a way to do so when I was able to solely focus on just balance without giving either side their fair weight. But if I focus too much on the scales I lose my compassion, if I am too compassionate I cannot follow the rules that allow society to function. It seems like an easy answer doesn’t it? In practice and theory, it has an easy answer, a easy road. But reality is often far from dreams and hopes, requiring others in lockstep to even come close to accomplishing even a sliver of such a dream of balance. In a way chaos is a balance to law, zealotry, order, and wearing my heart on my sleeve. My heart on my sleeve was my bleeding weakness. How can you balance while feeling for the guilty and innocent alike? The answer simply put, is balance. For balance, chaos. For chaos, balance. Harden yourself against every wearied and saddened plight or you will be drained by the world, be compassionate lest you forget mercy. In all things chaos balances. Chaos is a mix, a response, an impulse, an answer. It cares little about rights or wrongs. It is the only true constant, whether right or wrong. It simply is. Otherwise the world would stagnate. -Yunessa

“My beloved brother!” The argument was so loud it was easy to pick out amidst the other suns. “I admire your zeal, of course, but would you not agree this is hardly the time to be standing guard over a hole.” Even where Yunessa stood it was easy to spot the speaker was an aasimar. Metallic curls escaped his hood and his voice was pleasant to hear, his voice raised loud enough he could keep a safe distance from the inquisitors he faced. “ Nobody will ever emerge from such a hole. Or perhaps you;re concerned that someone will go for a nighttime stroll and accidentally fall into it? Such foresight is laudable, brother, but do you really need so many soldiers for such a task?” His melodic voice was cheerful, his hands held out wide as if he was welcoming the group of inquisitors facing him.

“Can’t your warriors be put to better use, for instance, fighting demons, or clearing rubble while the people trapped beneath it might still be alive.?” As Yunessa moved closer the aasimar’s voice proved to be deceptively pleasant. The Aasimar’s violet eyes held bitter reproach.

“That’s Ramien of Edme, prior of this city’s temple of Desna.” Daeran was close enough Yunessa could feel his breath on their ear. “The old man in that armour in Prelate Hulrun Shappok. The enmity between these two is long-lived and quite vicious.” He looked pointedly between the two. “Who you might be planning to help, well, that’s your business, but I would be most grateful if you would help Ramien get out of this situation live.”

“Is Ramian a friend of yours?” Yunessa asked, though Daeran had given no indication he held any care for anyone there.

He let out a delicate noise. “No.” Then he added. “It’s those curls of his. I adore Ramien’s curls.” He sighed and started to speak again before Prelate Hulrun spoke, his voice harsh.

“Don’t you dare” He began, seething anger in his voice. “Call me ‘brother’ heretic!” He’d seen hard combat recently. His armour was dented, covered in gore and his sword was held so tightly his arm shook. An unnaturally wane pallor left his skin pale with a tint of yellow. “How dare you accuse me of doing nothing to protect this city! Especially now when followers of our temple were caught committing treason!”

Yunessa leaned down to pick up a decent chunk of stone from the street. They were plentiful. Prelate Hulrun continued: “You’re no different than the demon worshippers- those malformed beasts, those heinous miscreants digging beneath the city walls!”

“What is their grudge about?” Lann asked curiously. But Daeran didn’t answer Lann’s question, putting two fingers over his lips as he watched the two bicker.

“Dearest Prelate, everyone knows in your zealous approach to serve the queen and defend the city has long caused you to forget the difference between good and evil. Friend and foe are the same in your eyes- and your punishments. My adepts ‘at of treason’ was a genuine attempt to save the city!”

“-And yet again I am forced to repeat myself: While we are wasting time on this pointless quarrel, people are dying under the rubble in our city! People we could be saving now if you set your soldiers to the task, and not keep them here, surrounding a utterly useless hole in the ground that will continue to be utterly harmless.” Ramien gestured to the hole caused by Deskari’s scythe. “Nothing else will happen with the hole Prelate.”

Hulrun sneered at Ramian. He leaned forward as if to take a step, swayed, and forced himself to stand upright using his sword. “Oh, harmless? Well if a traitorous Desnan like you says so, then that must mean there is someone down there! Your associates below, no doubt. Waiting for us to abandon our posts-” “Good sirs!” Yunessa tucked the hunk of stone into their jacket. “I do hate to interrupt such a cheerful conversation but….” They shrugged, offering a feigned warm smile that had charmed a few drunks in Yunessa’s time.

“You. I remember you!” Prelate Hulrun stared Yunessa down. “You appeared in my city the day the demons attacked and Terendelev died!”

“That is me. I was the one wounded on the walls.” Yunessa agreed.

“What are you doing here?” Hulrun asked, suspicion laced his voice, taking on a more aggressive authoritative tone. “Answer at once, or I’ll have you strung up by your ankles before you know it! Don’t think that the demons have wounded me! I still have enough strength to take on a hundred of your kind.

“Right now we’re trying not to die and finding survivors with my little group here to take back to a safe place.” The way Hulrun continued to lean on his sword belied his claims of strength. Even the two inquisitors with him looked as if they fared about the same.

Ramien’s gaze turned approving and his expression changed to something warm and pleasant as he slid a hand into his robes.

So worried you’re searching for a knife Priest? But Yunessa smiled back as Hulrun searched Yunessa’s group with his eyes.

“The old fellow leads the inquisitors in this city, right?” Nenio asked as if Hulrun wasn’t there. “Be careful with him, boy-

“Yunessa.”

“- Those people place no value on science and they believe that ignoring scientific questions is the best response. Incidentally the best way to get their attention is….” Her brow furrowed and she reached into her pockets to produce a damaged notepad. “To draw the attention of Iomedae’s inquisitors: Bellow a hearty ‘Hail Baphomet’ and prepare to explain yourself within three seconds or- I need to finish this experiment soon.”

“What is that hideous creature?” Hulrun pointed to Lann.

“Lann, at your service.” He ducked his head in a bow that seemed as if he’d practiced it more than once. “My forebearers fought in the first crusade I’ve lived in Kenabres my whole life.” He tapped his boot on the cobblestone. “You haven’t seen me because you’ve never ventured into our underground district.” He shrugged, voice light. “We’ve been meaning to complain to the city authorities that our paving stones below are in dire need of repair.”

Hulrun canted his head. “The first crusade.” He repeated slowly. “That makes you a mongrel then.”

“You’ve heard of Mongrels?” What Seelah had said made it seem like they were a known boogyman myth. Even Ember who’d lived on the streets had asked Lann why he hadn’t visited above ground.

“Of course I’m aware. Hmph.” Hulrun looked back to Lann. He seemed to consider his options before taking a slow breath, heavily resting on his sword. “All right, let’s be off with you then.” His eyes moved to Yunessa.”If he causes any trouble, I shall hold you responsible. Come to think of it- you haven’t told me who you are so I can confirm you’re not a miscreant.”

“I know you lead a bunch of the inquisitors. But I'm not certain that gives you a right to keep demanding an answer to the same question. I already gave you my name. It’s Yunessa, y-u-n-e-s-s-a. Bard by trade and of little importance.” Yunessa rubbed their wrist, surreptitiously checking their bracelet. But the magic stone remained much the same.

“I decide what’s important. It’s already passing strange you don’t know who I am.”

“Does every stranger need to know your name?” Yunessa asked curiously.

“They should if they pass through Kenabres. I am Hulrun Shappok, prelate of Kenabres, Inquisitor by the grace of Iomedae, defender of the city by grace of Her Majesty, Queen Gallifrey. Against threats within and without!” He straightened as much as he was able at the words, casting a dark gaze towards Ramien.

“And you’ve done a sterling job of protecting the city.” Ramian flashed a smile at Yunessa. He’d reached for a wand rather than a knife as he signed the change in situation. “I am Ramien of Edme, Prior of the Temple of Desna, which, alas, currently lies in ruins.” He gestured to Hulrun with his free hand, keeping the wand carefully out of Hulrun’s sharp gae. “Wise Hulrun,here believes it so vital to guard this hole in the ground which he believes is vital as surely, demons will emerge at any moment. I have been trying to convince him the city has more urgent matters and he should do what you’ve been doing. Recusing those citizens who so desperately need our help.”

“You know what? There may be in fact one matter that is more important than guarding this hold. I’ve put it off and look where this has led us.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Ramian. “I should have had you hung from the gates back when you dared to defend your gang of delinquent demon collaborators. If the Sarkorians had burned Areelu Vorlesg while they had the chance, there never would have even been a war!” His sword arm begin to tremble again. “I will not make that mistake again! I’ll hang you from one of the lantern posts!” The tension between the two was thick enough that Yunessa kept their hands visible. Hulrun was angry and blustering but his pallor betrayed him as he relied on the sword. The inquisitors with him fared no better, staying close to Hulrun to shield him, but not moving to go for Ramien yet.

Ramien allowed Hulrun to see his wand as he turned to face the Prelate. Before his voice was melodious, now it held an edge, like broken glass. “You’re a fool Hulrun. A fool, a zealot, and a murderer, but you’re a fool first and foremost. I warned you the Wardstone was weakened. You refused to listen. My young adepts were trying to save the Wardstone - and you stopped them. Of course, those truly responsible forth tragedy are the demons, but you did nothing to prevent it. And now you'd rather commit murder and die yourself, than admit you were wrong. As always.” He began to gesture with the wand and almost immediately the inquisitors around Hulrun reacted defensively. SIlver shields flashed and Hulrun raised his own sword.

To no avail. Ramien simply vanished from existence as if he was never there. Only the sound of the Prior running betrayed that he had used an invisibility spell. Even before the sound faded the inquisitors had moved aside for Hulrun to move in front of them. Seeing no visible sign of Ramien he clenched his jaw. “Beast! Heretic! Traitor and thrice dammned demon cultist! He slipped away again!” He stomped his foot in outrage- though it lacked effect as he exhaled loudly after, shoulders slumping down with the effort. He turned his eyes on the group and gave Yunessa a foul look. “What about you? Whose side are you on?”

“I hadn’t considered picking one.” It was only partially a lie. Yunessa had no interest in the argument until Ramien’s final words sparked curiosity. “There isn’t a need to pick a side is there?”

“Are you trying to defend him? In that case my soldiers don’t need to be told twice to kill you!”

“I am only trying to figure this out, Prelate.” Yunessa held their hands out, palms upwards. “I came to the city the day this happened- you were there when they brought me in dying. I have no context for any of this beyond the argument I just witnessed. I can’t be blamed for asking why a servant of Iomedae would hang someone without a trial.”

“You don’t seem to realise what city you’re in Yunessa.-” Daeran spoke up.

“I heard it was called Kenabres but I will allow myself to be in the wrong there.” Yunessa spoke. Daeran’s lips twitched but he continued as Prelate Hulrun eyed him like a particularly unpleasant roach.

“The Prelate here was appointed by my cousin Galfrey, Queen of Mendev by the grace of Iomedae. Thus, he is in fact, judge, jury, and executioner- and all with the blessing of Queen and Goddess themselves.” Daeran ‘s expression didn’t change- he seemed as if he could be enjoying a conversation about the weather.

“Blasphemy- that’s blasphemy right?” Lann asked. “Wouldn’t the Goddess want him to have a trial or something? Uplanders still have those right? Innocent until proven guilty?”

“Me? A blasphemer? Perish the thought. But answer me this: Has Iomedae stripped the prelate of his powers? No, she has not. That means she has no qualms about how he’s dispensing justice within the city. The prelate is within his rights- “ Daeren’s eyes moved to Lann. “So that would make you the blasphemer here.”

Hulrun hadn’t interrupted Daeran as he spoke. His hardened eyes stared at Daeran who watched him back as the Prelate trembled- with fury if Yunessa was right. “I’m surprised the Goddess saw fit to let you live-” He began but Yunessa clapped their hands.

“What is Prior Ramien even accused of? Besides whatever his adepts had done?” Hulrun’s eyes moved over Yunessa’s group, looking them over before they finally rested on Yunessa. “If you want to hang him right off the bat it must be serious Prelate. Especially if there is to be no trial by his peers.”

“Treason. Not long before this city was attacked, several followers from his temple tried to secretly access the Wardstone and perform an unknown ritual over it.” It seemed impossible for Hulrun to get any more angry, yet, his anger still seemed to be rising. Growing in fury like a stroked fire. “This city’s Ward stone, A gift from Iomedae and they tried to touch it with their filthy hands! The damned Desnans played right into the hands of demons!”

“Do you want me to try and find Ramien for you?” Yunessa needed Ramien. Very much so. But as long as Yunessa kept talking the Prelate’s attention wouldn’t wander. Yunessa was feeling glad their lute was safely wrapped to keep it safe from the rain- what would Hulrun do if he saw the butterflies on the lute?

“Capture him? Yes. Yes! If you want me to believe you’re no traitor then go and capture that traitor! Bring him back to me and he’ll hang!”

Yunessa gestured at the others to follow. “If that’s the case then I’ll keep my civilians with me so you can continue to do your job Prelate, unless you were going to leave this place?”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I will not hear another word against it! Demons are hiding underground, the proof is all around you! The hole spawned Nabasu that crawled out of here will not harm anyone now and as long as I breathe I will prevent these underground beasts-” Hulrun paused. “Are you trying to lure me away from my post? Perhaps you’re also a cultist too? Wanting to help your friends underground do you?”

“Not in the slightest Prelate.” Yunessa shrugged as though unconcerned. Though seeing the light in Hulrun’s eyes, Yunessa would gladly leave the zealot to his hole. Hulrun had focused on that task- aided by his weakened condition- and his argument with Ramien only solidified his already unreasonable heightened suspicions. “I was only wondering where to find you upon my return.”

“I won’t take a single step away from here! If you keep up talking nonsense and have you strung up for treason!” He seethed.

“Of course then-where can I find Ramien?” Yunessa asked and Hulrun paused, his fury gone abruptly as he thought.

“The weasel couldn’t have gone far.” His eyes looked down the street. He’s probably in some dark hole like the traitor beast he is, and he’ll be trembling and waiting till he’s dragged out of there.”

“With the Prelate after you, it’s the sensible thing to do.” Woljiff quipped. Ember had watched it all quietly, her eyes observing the situation with the same eerie gaze.

“I know you! I remember when Father and I first arrived in the city, you met us!” Her hand wrapped around Yunessa’s, squeezing it tightly as she smiled at Hulrun.

“What is this gibberish?” Hulrun stared at Ember as if he just noticed her. “As if I have nothing to do better than meet with beggars! We’ve never met.”

“We have!” Ember insisted loudly. “You and the other knights tied us to staked and started lighting the bonfire. Father died, and then one of your knights changed his mind and pulled me out… but then he died too… don’t you remember?”

There was no lie to be found in Ember’s face or voice. “Did you burn a child Prelate?” There was something about that which made YUnessa’s blood run cold. Ember had several visible scars, some old and some new. But Yunessa would have never guessed someone tried to burn a child alive. “Surely you wouldn’t burn a child.”

“If I burned a child, as she said, then it was with good reason. She said some traitor helped her escape from the fire? That’s a crime in itself which means that the child would have been evading justice all these years.” He sighed regretfully. “If it wasn’t for this invasion I’d review your case and see that your sentence was finally fulfilled. You’re lucky we have more important matters to deal with right now.”

“He didn’t look like he does now.” Ember explained helpfully to Yunessa.” Not wrinkled and grey. He was young with a big moustache. Ember’s smile was broad. Soot let out a displeased crackle of noise above.”He probably forgot about me. It was a really long time ago, back when this was the river city-”

“A hundred years? Since the first crusade?” Daeran murmured. But Yunessa didn’t catch it. Their blood was slowly turning curdling in the cold as Ember kept talking. “He probably forgot all about me and Father- it was a long time ago.” Perhaps Ember could sense the growing mood in Yunessa, how the stillness was the calm before an angered storm because she added: “I’m not angry with him! He’s a hero. He just got really, really mixed up about who was good and evil. It’s okay, really!”

“It’s alright if Hulrun burned you and your Father alive? He should be asking for forgiveness.” Ember squeezed Yunessa’s hand, her expression shifting from that oddly unnatural perceptiveness to one more understanding.

“It’s alright.” Ember repeated.

“You should ask for forgiveness.” Lann stated bluntly and it drew an annoyed noise from Hulrun.

“Pah! Hardly! Anyone can ‘look’ innocent. How did the girl survive the fire? And what about that crow flying around her? I advise you to take a closer look at this innocent lamb of yours- if you ask me she ‘looks’ highly suspicious indeed!” He waved a dismissive hand.

“He was only doing what he thought was right How do you- how do you- maybe you’ve done something thinking it was good, but you were really doing something bad that hurt someone? But what if- what if I’ve done the same thing? You can’t get angry at people for making mistakes when you might be no better than them.” She squeezed Yunessa’s hand desperately with all the intensity of a child trying to convince their parents everything was fine. “It’s fine.” She repeated. “I promise.”

“- let’s go Ember.We have places to go.”

“Yes! Bye-bye kind knight!” Ember waved to Hulrun with a carefree mile. Hulrun, to whatever credit he might have possessed, grimaced and looked away.

“Is this it, Aranka?” The church of Desna was beautiful, even in ruin.A garden with a simple stone chapel, works of art were left surrounding, and doubtless, inside the church. It eased Yunessa’s heart to see that it wasn’t entirely in ruin. The tall stone building held symbols of Desna, from butterflies to music scratched in the stones- a chaotic mix of art and beauty. It still retained tranquillity in the air, even as smoke carried the smell of death and lost lives in the air.

Around the temple was a well-tended garden. Trees and flowers- from weeds to roses- provided what must have been a very soothing and calm air before the city had been invaded. But even with the invasion the greenery remained untouched.

Divine blessing or luck?

Trees lined the cobblestone street leading to the temple’s steps. Their reddish orange leaves lay in piles on the yard, spreading onto the cobblestone. The temple was silent, the joyous bell that would so often ring to announce services gone. Torn away, if Yunessa had to guess, by a demon large enough to reach the top of the church. Large claw marks showed where it had raked its talons over the church over the roof.

Despite that the divine power in the area must have rendered some form of safety- there were no demon or cultist corpses to be seen on its sacred ground.

What do you see?” Aravashinal demanded. He was tense in the silence, his head turning this way and that.

“Right now? A nice quiet space that would be better if this city wasn’t under siege. I don't see Prior Ramien.” Yunessa gestured. “Aranka, are any of your fellows here? If they aren’t then it’s better to go to the Defender’s Heart.” An autumn breeze caressed Yunessa’s face.

“He doesn’t have a home in Kenabres to stay in.” Aranka chewed her lip. “He wouldn’t have gotten hurt by the things in the city now. He’s a good healer- too good. Desna wouldn’t let Ramien die.”

“We can try opening the church doors. They look closed like normal- he might be there.” Lann pointed. “And the sooner we find him, the better.”

“I would like to rest for a while. We’ve been doing this for a good amount of time.” Yunessa searched the grounds as they walked up to the church. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, if we can’t find a priest I’m shit out of luck.”

“If I called for him…” Aranka began. Her eyes moved around the yard, searching every single shadow. “Would it summon more of the undead or a demon?”

“It can’t hurt to try.”

“I’m sorry Yunessa. I’m not a priest but I could try to help.” Aranka offered. “Desna wouldn’t forsake you. I’m sure she’d listen.” Aranka’s eyes searched around. “We should try inside the temple. It still looks intact and we can rest there after.”

“Try calling for Ramien. If he isn’t here, then we’ll search somewhere else and take you both to Defender’s heart.” Yunessa said, but tension had their chest wound up like a spring and they pulled their sleeve back to study their arm. The bracelet continued to draw stress, as dull as the tacky stone looked. “We could still search the temple. I’m good with locks.” Woljif offered. “You know, to check for survivors.”

“Always willing to go the extra stretch Woljif.” Rubbing their arm Yunessa tugged their sleeve back. “ No, if we can’t find Ramien here, we’ll make our way to the inn- I haven't forgotten I said I’d help you as well.- But Irabeth seems like she has enough power to stop Hulrun from trying to hang everyone he sees.” Lann looked back with a frown. His eyes shifted up to the sky before he quickly looked back down again. He’d refused to look at the sky for too long. Yunessa couldn’t blame him- somehow the rain seemed dark, the clouds menacing.

Ramien?” Aranka called out. Standing straight she searched the grounds with her eyes once more. Turning to see the rest of the group had her back she drew strength from it and then louder: ” Prior?” She raised her voice to call out loudly.”Ra-”

“There’s no need for that.” Ramien’s voice answered and the air shimmered against the cobblestone before the aasimar priest returned to visibility, standing to the side of the group. He’d been watching them from the safety of the foliage. He smiled at Aranka before his eyes shifted to Yunessa. “So you found me.” He held his hands out, palms facing upwards in a universal sign that he had no weapons on him “I’m at your mercy. I have nowhere else to run. Kill me if you wish- but hear me out first, I ask!” He grasped Aranka’s hands as the bard reached out to him, smiling warmly at her.

“I can’t imagine someone would go so far as to kill you Ramien. Your gaggle of good little worshippers wouldn’t allow such sacrilege to pass.” Ramien blinked at Daeran, startling as he realised who it was. Daeran smiled at Ramien. “Why didn;t you seek safety with me? I would have helped… out of solidarity for a fellow Aasimar and to relive that one summer’s eve.” His smile turned wistful.

“Daeran?” A question and a statement. Ramien’s hands lowered and he tugged his priest’s hood back, golden curls spilled out as he relaxed. “You travel in…unexpected company Bard.” Turning his attention back to Daeran, he shook his head. “I would never consider trying to save only myself. I wanted to help the people of this city. Not idly wait out the storm in safety. Not even for that one summer’s eve.”

“Yes, self sacrifice is a common affliction among clerics, it seems.” Daeran looked around them meaningfully. “This isn’t the worst place in Kenabres to die. But you really should have considered running to go to safety. It’s not worth your life to die for this city.”

“Now isn’t the time for selfish pleasure or self-interest. Our city is burning and the prelate has lost all reason.” Ramien began but Aravashinal spoke before Ramien could continue, his hands gripping his staff tightly:

“And of the Blackwing Library?” Aravashinal asked, a hint of desperate edge to it. “The temple of Desna is atop the hill- surely you can’t have missed the sight of it in the distance.”

“The library? I don’t know what happened to it. In the chaos I have not been able to keep track of the whole city.” Ramien’s tone was politely apologetic and Aravashinal’s lips thinned. “It is the smoke- between it and the rain I cannot even tell if it was morning or at night.”

“We’ve been doing this since the morning, Prior. Do you want to talk inside the church- assuming, that is, that the church is safe to rest in.” Sitting down felt like a better idea the longer Yunessa thought about it. How long since they had been to a temple of Desna? A proper temple to rival that of other gods of stone and wood. “I don’t intend to harm you.” Yunessa added. “But if Hulrun leaves his hole we’ll at least hear him trying to get into the church.”

“They saved me, Ramien.” Aranka spoke up. “And the bard- Yunessa- let me come with them to find you. Please help them- Hulrun won’t listen to us but he might to them.” She pointed a tapered finger at Yunessa. “Please.”

“You did say you needed a priest.” Ramien said slowly. A tad reluctant. “I know what’s on your wrist,.” His eyes moved to Yunessa’s wrist where the bracelet lay. “I won’t deny you. Come then, let’s go inside so your group can rest. I’ll tend to you myself.”

The doors were deceptively thick but at Ramien’s touch they opened with nary a sound. It had been left intact despite demons and potential would-be looters.“Ilkes!” Ramien called out and Yunessa spotted a second wavy figure on the lawn as they moved. “Come in with me- I will let you rest inside until you’re ready to move again.”

The inside of the Desnan church felt more akin to a comfortable home than a place of strict worship. Images of Desna were painted on the walls, her old statue looking down at the group with a serene smile as Ramien closed the doors. The rain began to pour once more as the door was locked with another gentle touch of Ramien’s hand against the door.

The inside of Desna’s church was tranquil. Soothing and quiet despite the world outside. Comfortable benches and floor couches had been pulled into service again and Yunessa’s group had made themselves comfortable. Soaked coats had been set to dry and a brazier had been lit to provide some small light and warmth.The protections of the temple had been layered on over time and still managed to hold as the rain continued to fall, determinedly attempting to wash the building away.

The group had found a brazier with two of Ramien’s adepts- Aranka and Ilks- helping them to turn the coals into a small fire. As quickly as they had covered ground in the city it had come with the price of weariness. The cold from the rain had sunk into Yunessa’s bones over the day but they forced themselves to sit by their drying coat.

“It wouldn’t be hard to hide here until the Queen’s army arrived.” Yunessa remarked. Lann had taken over keeping watch and Yunessa felt Lann’s eyes on them asRamien came close to them, having finished giving the group whatever supplies were in the temple.

“It would be easier.” Ramien countered, his voice light. “But it wouldn't be the right thing to do.”

“I suppose not.” Yunessa agreed. “You can’t deny the thought is nice, Prior, even if it isn’t right.”

Ramien sat next to Yuenssa. “I wouldn’t accept the easy option if it meant others suffered. Not even if the Queen overlooked it herself.” He held his hand out and Yunessa hesitated.

“Prior, I just need a blessing that will last.” Yunessa began but Ramien’s smile took away some of Yunessa’s words, leaving them fumbling to pick up whatever they could. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“You saved my adepts and far more than that. I will bless your bracelet.” Ramien paused. “But later, in a safer place, we can talk about it in-depth.” He eyed the group. “If there is time.”

“Why do you need a blessing elf boy?” Nenio inquired. She’d sat near the fire, a crumpled wad of paper and charcoal stick in her hands already.

“Yunessa.”

“I told you, I won’t-” “Then don’t ask until you’ve learned my name.” Yunessa said bluntly. Nenio’s lack or- or a desire to- learn Yunessa’s name, wore away at Yunessa’s goodwill. “I have a name. If you don’t learn it then you’ll never get an answer.”

Nenio frowned at Yunessa but Daeran made a comment and her attention quickly shifted as Daeran pointed to the ground, his words so soft Yunessa couldn’t catch them.

Ramien studied Yunessa’s bracelet, turning it this way and that as he did so. “I want to help the city, despite Hulrun seeking my death- he will try to hang me from the highest post- and he will get it if he cannot be brought to see reason.” Ramien’s lips tugged into a bitter smile. “But if you are able to tell me- reassure me Kenabres hasn’t fallen and that the city still lives. If there are pockets of life, resistance in the city were I can be of use, I will go there to help the citizens of the city.”

“It lives. You can go to the Defender’s heart. It’s run by Irabeth Tirabade.” Yunessa promised and Ramien squeezed Yunessa’s arm.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “Irabath- I know her wife Anevia. She’s a regular at the church’s services.”

“Irabeth has set up the place well. The three priests I saw there were cutting up their own robes and working until they were close to collapse.” Ramien studied Yunessa’s bracelet but Yunessa could already guess at what would draw him to places. Souls like Ramien’s strove to do good.

“I’ll go there. If my adepts come with me then we’ll make a difference. I know the way to Defender’s Heart- if you’re going to the Blackwing Library then we can accompany you until your street changes.” His expression shifted to a warm smile. “Thank you Yunessa.”

“There’s no need for that. I haven't done anything.” But Ramien smiled at Yunessa and they could only sigh when Ramien began to murmur a blessing. His voice was a sweet whisper as he prayed. He was favoured by Desna- that much was obvious as his fingers brushed against the tacky bracelet gem- as the light gave off faint impressions of butterflies flying around Ramien.

“ᴼʰ ᴰᵉˢⁿᵃ, ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᵍᵒᵈᵈᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵏʸ ᵂʰᵒˢᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ˡⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ ᴵˡˡᵘᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢⁱˡᵛᵉʳʸ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃʸ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵐᵉᵃᵈᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᴬ ᶠᵉʳᵗⁱˡᵉ ˡᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᶠᵃⁱʳ ᴹᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁱᵗˢ ʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᴼʰ ᴰᵉˢⁿᵃ, ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵐʸ ʷᵉˡˡ⁻ʷʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵖʳᵃʸᵉʳ, ᴿᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴾʳⁱᵉˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢⁱˡᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵃʳᵉ, ᴬⁿᵈ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳˢʰⁱᵖᵖᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵃʳᵉ

When the curse was suppressed by the bracelet it felt like a rush- a mixture of relief, clarity, and awareness returning as the world seemed to sharpen Yunessa was no priest and lacked the ability to feel the bracelet’s power. But it was obvious in the way the tacky gemstone brightened in colour that it was being charged.

ᴼʰ ᴰᵉˢⁿᵃ, ʷʰᵒ ⁱˡˡᵘᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵏʸ ᴮʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˡˡᵘᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵒ, ᴮʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ, ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʳᵃⁿqᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵗʸ, ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ᵉˡʸˢⁱᵘᵐ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵃˡᵐ, ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳᵐ. ᴰʳᵉᵈ��ᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳᵐ ᴰʳᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ, ᵁⁿᵇᵘʳᵈᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴺⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ ᴼʰ ᴰᵉˢⁿᵃ, ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳᵃʸᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵃ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ˢⁱˡᵛᵉʳʸ ᵐᵒᵒⁿ.

The fog in the back of Yunessa’s mind receded as if it was never there and they watched Ramien pray, blessing the bracelet. It chased away their weariness and Yunessa felt the magic knit what was left of their shoulder wound knit together, stinging as the start of an infection burned away.

ᴬᵐⁱᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵘʳᵐᵒⁱˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵍᵘⁱˢʰ ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᴱᵃˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ, ᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵘʳᵈᵉⁿˢ ᵘˢ ᴬˢ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᴸᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ʳᵉˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉ,ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ᵇᵉˡˡˢ. ᴾʳᵒᵐⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵘˢ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠʳᵉᵉᵈᵒᵐ

The chapel seemed to light up and Ramien’s voice took on a serene tone as the priest continued, his voice intoxicating to listen to.

ᴼʰ ᴰᵉˢⁿᵃ, ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵃ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉⁿᵉʷᵃˡ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡʸʳᵉ ᵀᵒ ᵈʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉᵃʳʸ ˢᵉⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘᵗᵗᵉʳᶠˡⁱᵉˢ, ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʳᵉʲᵘᵛᵉⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᴼʰ ᴰᵉˢⁿᵃ, ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵃ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉʲᵘᵛᵉⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳˢʰⁱᵖᵖᵉrs

Aranka began to hum and Yunessa felt the urge to play. They didn’t recall reaching for their lute, but Ramien’s voice blended in with Aranka’s as her voice rose high. The rest of Yunessa’s group had gone silent. In the moment Aranka, Ramien and YUnessa’s voices became one as Yunessa followed their instinct, the music was enthralling, a hypnotic melody as Yunessa began to play their lute. From the depths of their soul, the song rose and swelled before the divine magic Ramien had called began to ebb away, and with it, the music.

When the music stopped, Yunessa opened their eyes and found themself in a place that looked nothing at all like the ruins of Kenabres or the inside of Desna’s temple. In the blink of an eye the entire world had changed. From a dimly lit temple to deep inside a twilight forest.

It was twilight in this world, with streaks of silver moonlight across the sky. Just dim enough the forest took on a mysterious air. A shallow stream murmured softly behind Yunessa, it’s peaceful sounds uninterrupted even when Yunessa walked into it to try and peer moe deeply into the forest.

“First it was an angel sword, now I’m in a mysterious forest.” Yunessa began to count off on their fingers. “A forest with nobody around.” Yuness stopped to look at a tree. So old its trunk made Yunessa feel small- all of the trees were ancient, so big were they. Garlands of unfamiliar plants twined around their trunks and falling from their branches with some remarkably looking as if they could double for swings.

Yunessa took a slow breath, breathing in the fragrant smell of the grasses, lichens and mosses glowed, providing a surprising amount of light to see by. Reaching into the stream, they picked up one of the smooth stones in it. It gleamed silver as if it had absorbed all the light that shined down on it. “It looks like stars.” Yunessa looked back down to the strem and countless other stones inside it all winked and gleamed at them like stars. A stream of stars carried by the shallow stream into the forest.

“Is this Kyonin? It feels familiar…no. Not there.” As soon as Yunessa said the words, they knew them to be false. “Well. The stars have never led me wrong before.” And Yunesssa walked along the stream bed, following the silver gleam of the smooth stones. They had never been here before, but it felt like home.

Wandering was peaceful, pleasing as Yunessa began to find things hidden they hadn’t caught. A garland of plants had anther’s that gleamed like polished gems in its petals.The leaves of one tree looked like silk, but the one Yunessa plucked was different. Yunessa walked for a time, finding nothing that failed to be different until the stream passed by a small group.

At a distance they reminded Yunessa of elves but when Yunessa grew close they saw the butterfly wings on the backs of two. One of them had cloven feet, swinging on a garland carelessly, but all three spotted Yunessa, turning to watch them with interest.

“Don’t mean to be a bother- where am I?”

“ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ? ” The one with butterfly wings and antlers asked in amazement.

“I was brought here by music when I was in Desna’s temple. I’m afraid I do not.” A tree branching hanging over Yunessa creaked as another of the humanoid creatures watched from above. A flower slowly fell down to land in Yunessa’s hair, but Yunessa barely noticed as the swinging humanoid laughed.

“ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗˡᵉˢˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃˢᵗᵒⁿⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᴱˡʸˢⁱᵘᵐ ⁱˢ ʷᵒᵛᵉⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ, ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᶠ ⁱⁿ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳˢ.” The creature gestured around them all. “ “ᵀʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ⁻ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ, ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉᶠᵘˡ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵒʳⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵘⁿᵈˡᵉˢˢ ᶠʳᵉᵉᵈᵒᵐ.” Movement caught Yunessa’s eyes- the creature had a dozen different tails.

“ “ᵂᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶻᵃᵗᵃ, ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵒᶠ ᶠʳᵉᵉᵈᵒᵐ.” Said the swinging creature. “ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉˢᵗ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ. ᵀᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˡᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ʰᵘⁿᵈʳᵉᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵍᵘᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉˢᵗ, ᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶜᵃᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ, ᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜᵃˢᵗˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜˡᵒᵘᵈˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᶜᵃᵗᵗᵉʳˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵉᶻᵉ.”

“ᴹᵒʳᵗᵃˡˢ ʳᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˡʸˢⁱᵘᵐ.” The creature with the butterfly wings, antlers and tails spoke. “ᴺᵒᵗ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ. ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵐᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉʳᵉ. ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵃʳᵇᵒᵘʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉˢᵗ ˢᵖᵃʳᵏ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃˢˢⁱᵒⁿ, ᶠʳᵉᵉᵈᵒᵐ, ᵒʳ ʸᵉᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ, ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵃʸ ʰᵉʳᵉ.”

Yunessa looked around once more. The peaceful forest remained as it was. More flowers fell down as the creature above giggled, full of mischief.

ᴺᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ qᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳ ᵒᵘʳˢ. ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ?” The azata with many tails watched Yunessa. There was only the same curiosity in their eyes.

Yunessa’s mind ran with a hundred questions and the desire to keep moving along the stream. Elysium, real, genuine Elysium! Yunessa had played songs and sung about it, but never ever had considered this would happen. Not even a speck of thought in their mind.

“I wish my companions were here with me. But seeing as they are not,I have to return.” Even knowing that, Yunessa felt reluctant to leave. “I am needed.”

The azata with the cloven feet that had remained silent until now, watched Yunessa seriously, nodding at them in approval. “ᴵᵗ’ˢ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ. ᴵ ˢᵐᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳᵉ, ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵒˡᵈˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗˢ ᵍʳᵃˢᵖ. ᴵᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᶜˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ.”

“ᴮᵘᵗ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵐᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗᵒ?” The azata above murmured. “ᴬ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ, ᵃ ᵐᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗᵒ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ?”

The azata fell silent, even the one swinging above slowed to watch Yunessa. There was a weight in the air, a feeling of time pausing to watch as Yunessa considered the question. Such questions were never asked lightly in places like these, by creatures like them- every song, every book Yunessa knew reinforced that truth.

Words held power, like spells or military commands. But there were very few times such questions allowed simple words to have such a bearing on life and destiny. Even the stream seemed to have gone silent, the air heavy with expectation. The forest itself was watching, waiting. All was patient and whatever answer Yunessa gave wouldn’t be taken back.

“Yes. I would really like to.” Yunessa said finally.

“ᵀʰᵉⁱʳ ᵖᵃᵗʰ ⁱˢ ᵗʳᵘᵉ.” The one from above murmured. The azata drew closer, surrounding Yunessa in the blink of an eye. Surprised, Yunessa was startled. But the azata were calm, expectant and when they spoke, it was all of them at once and none of them.

“ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ.” “⁻ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ.” “ᴬⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵇᵇˡᵉ ˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵏ ᵇʸ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵒⁿᵇᵉᵃᵐ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵉqᵘᵃˡ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿʸ ˢᵗᵃʳ.” “ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵉᵛⁱˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜˡᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒⁿqᵘᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛⁱˡ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ.” “ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿˢᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵛⁱˡ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠʳᵉᵉ.”

“ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒⁿᵍ.” They breathed and Yunessa suddenly knew what their song was as if they’d known it all their life. How to sing it, how to play it. The knowledge flooded through their mind, searing itself into Yunessa’s soul, never to be forgotten.

“ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵃʸ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ⁻ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵏʸ.”

The azata blocked out the twilight sky and the view of the forest, as tall as the sky as the light quickly faded and Yunessa felt themselves began to slip back to where they came from.

"Wҽ'ʅʅ ɱҽҽƚ αɠαιɳ." A soft whisper as loud as it was silent was the last thing Yunessa heard.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #pathfinder #mature #the commander #ember #lann #Ramien of Edme #Hulrun shappok

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