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>>2415858

It makes it halfway before it crashes into a sudden wall of stone and wood, on that begins where Valeria had stuck her sword into the floor. She pulls out her weapon and says, “Bad dog.” It faces her with its snake head and hisses. Valeria mumbles, “Heavens, you are one ugly mutt.”

You pay little attention to it. While you curse the patterned floor, your fingers run across its surface, feeling for any signs of the trap door. Syrup crouches beside you. In a quiet, flat voice, she asks, “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a way out,” you reply. You hit an edge. “This!” Eager, your hands scramble to grab onto the side, and with a heave, you swing it wide open. A ladder leads downwards into a long spiral staircase. It, like the rest of Gaia’s Tree, was lit by vines that cling to the walls. However, as bright as the ones near you are, the rest of them grow dimmer the farther you look down, where it becomes pitch black at the bottom. Strange, and eerily out of place.

Syrup faces you, focusing intently. “How... did you know that was there?”

You doubt you can answer that with the clarity she wants.
>”Can't we talk about this later?.”
>”I think I've been here before.”
>”I was going on a hunch.”
>”Good question. I don't know.”
>Write-in.

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Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Kaleidoscope+Quest
Twitter: https://twitter.com/hopelessQM

>>2415868
>"I think I've been here before."

>>2415893
deja vu

Writing

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“I think I’ve been here before,” you say. Almost a truth. Maybe it is one. Regardless, you don’t know what else to tell her that would be as convincing as that. “Come on, get in here.”

“...” she says, hesitant. You don’t think that you’ve contradicted yourself outright, but the impression you gave definitely says otherwise. “Where does it go?”

“Everywhere the platform goes,” you reply, “I think it’s there in case the platform breaks. Hurry, we can’t stay here forever.”


With you anxiously and impatiently hurrying her, Syrup climbs down first, unsure about where the staircase leads. A lot of walking, without a doubt.

Turning to Touryn and Valeria, you shout, “Over here!” You give them a wave, their attentions directed at you for a second. Without waiting for them, you climb down the ladder as fast as you can and start running down the stairs. Valeria slides down right after, and Touryn jumps down. You’re about to tell Valeria to use the runes on her sword, but she had already thought of it before you can say it. A glimpse of the century mantis could be caught before the walls distort to seal the passageway.

Touryn, skipping steps on the way down, catches up to you. He says, “Where are we heading now?” He looks at the center past the delicate handrail, down to a dark abyss. “Don’t tell me all the way down.”

“How else are we going to get out of here? We’re going all the way to the trunk,” you say. Loud banging could be heard above you as the witch’s faeries try to break past the barrier. You doubt it’ll do any good; Valeria’s been making more and more walls as she descends. As you progress downwards, it becomes clear that there’s a frustrating distance to cover. Upwards, the noise has stopped completely. It’s somehow more unnerving than if it were still there. Staring up, you realize the vines at the top had gotten darker, strangely enough. No, that’s not quite right. It takes you a moment, but you realize the stairwell has gotten darken altogether. While you wonder, a door finally comes into sight. It leads to the library, no doubt. You had quickly grabbed the spell sheets before you came up, so it should be undisturbed otherwise.

There’s a loud cracking, and then an explosion as the sealed trapdoor above is broken through. You hurry up, and you realize something below is approaching. The sound it makes as is growing, and when you squint to see what’s down there, you find out that the night stalker had jumped from the shadow downstairs. It covers a ridiculous distance as it strides up the stairs.

Touryn grumbles, gripping his weapon. “I hate these things.” You worry about how much aether his gemstone has, or Valeria’s

It’ll reach everyone soon.
>Charge at the nightstalker.
>Have Touryn collapse this section of the stairwell.
>Break through into the library.
>Evoke an eidolon with a spell sheet. (Who?)
>Write-in.

>>2416007
>Have Touryn collapse this section of the stairwell.

>>2416007
>Evoke an eidolon with a spell sheet. (Who?)

Hiya Hopeless! Could you maybe list off the Eidolons we know about? Also, are the night stalkers actually traveling in and out of shadows, or are they just really fast?

Rolled 93, 98 = 191 (2d100)

>>2415858

>>2416034
I was thinking of making pastebins but I never got around to it. I actually gave a list on thread 2, but here it is again:
Major: Solaria, Luna, and Gaia
Minor: Gale, Tide, Loam, and Igni
There are smaller, lesser ones, but they're indistinguishable from elder wraiths.

>>2416034
And I forgot to answer: nightstalkers can jump in shadows and travel through them like in a different dimension or medium. They can jump out of any shadow, as long as they're aware of it.

>>2416045
Could we, say, invoke Solaria to create really bright light that would eliminate the darkness and shadows? If the nightstalker can't travel around like that it can be cornered and killed easier.

>>2416033
Collapse

>>2416057
You can!

Writing for this then

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You turn to Touryn and say, “Can you collapse this section of the stairwell?” Meanwhile, you reach into your satchel, grabbing a spell sheet and your carving pen.

“Uh,” he replies, looking at you, and then the nightstalker. “Everyone, hold tight.”

Valeria shakes her head. “No no no, no way, don’t do it—"

The steel glows as it slices into the wall where the stairway stuck to the wall. He’s waiting to drop it on top of the faerie. You take the time you cut into your thumb, using your blood as ink. Quickly, you draw a basic spell circle, one to evoke Solaria. The staircase shakes as he slices through the wood. Red lines and arcs stretch across the paper, and on the last mark, Touryn makes his final cut.

Syrup says, “There’s nothing to hold onto!” and grabs onto you. The staircase starts to detach, and the nightstalker looks up to see what has happened. It only takes it a fraction of a second to make its decision. With the dying light, it can try to leap into the shadows again. The faerie jumps into the air, and you throw the spell circle at it.

It flies into the air, completely going off of your trajectory and caught by air resistance. There, in the center of the stairwell, it glows blindingly bright, as if Solaria itself had descended.

Valeria cries out as she covers her eyes, and as much as you’d like to follow along, you’re too busy panicking as you experience a ontomomentary sickening feel of your footing giving away beneath you. The staircase falls, and the night stalker crashes into solid wood, unable to activate its circles. It makes a small yelp before the combined weight of the four of you and the stairs crushes it.

You fall on your backside, groaning as you try and get up in the rising cloud of dust. It’s to not much success with the herbalist still clingtoyou. Touryn says, “Get up, they’re—”

The staircase underneath strains and cracks, and everyone is visibly dismayed. Then, you fall again.

[1/2]

>>2416101

Something’s watching you.

Consciousness flitters back, and you groan as you turn over to your side. The good news is that you can no longer feel your head hurting; the bad news is that everything else hurts instead. Even your shoulder, surprisingly enough. You pry your eyes open, and you find yourself on a terrifyingly uncomfortable bed of shattered wood, bark, and vines.

Covered in scratches, cuts, and probably splinters, you lift your body off the ground and orient yourself. The vines have grown dark, all but the few that surround you. Above, the spell sheet had landed on an unbroken piece of the stairwell and has now begun to die down. You have two more in your bag, so you’re not worried about that. You can see the remnants of a wraith that had started to form, only for it to wither away with the poor conditions.

Getting up, you notice a tremendous impression on the earth, as if something heavy had dropped down from above. A patch of still black fur can be seen, but you ignore it. A good distance away from the strange mark is Syrup, her face firmly planted into the ground. You shake her shoulders and whisper, “Syrup, are you alright? Wake up.”

“Nnnn,” she says, “A little more sleep...”

Sighing, you stand up and opt to survey your surroundings while she rests. There’s an open doorway that’s more of a gaping hole in a tree trunk, and upon walking through it, you see Valeria holding back the century mantis. The beast sweeps wide arcs, easily able to cut through anything in its way. Valeria, on the other hand, is clearly tired, still managing to dodge and parry all of its blows. A quick glance at the uneven, deformed ground and you could tell that she’s been using her sword extensively. The faerie itself is starting to grow fatigued too. Its wounds may heal, but it can’t do anything about its stamina.

To the side, Touryn’s laying on a wall, an arm bloodied. You’re right outside the circular statue room when you first arrived. Rushing up to him, you say, “That looks bad.”

“It’s nothing,” he says, shrugging it off. “Don’t worry about me.” He motions with his head, and you look where he’s looking at.

Someone’s shouting from above. “You worthless piece of trash, get her already! You just need to land one hit! Look at how fleshy and soft she is—she doesn’t even have any armor!” When you look upwards, you find the witch on the platform. It’s unmoving and in the midst of descending to the lowest floor, the forest ground. You glance at the fight and realize he’s cheering on his faerie.

For some odd reason, you feel as if the entire forest is watching you without eyes.

You need to end this.
>Evoke Igni.
>Climb onto the century mantis.
>Write-in.

>Replenish Touryn’s aquamarine. (How?)

>>2416176
Would forcing a faerie onto the statue possibly drain it, the way the book was last time?

>>2416180
The statue's up with the platform, with the witch.

>>2416180
Ah, okay then. To clarify, is Loam related to plants, or would that be more in Gaia's domain?

>>2416204
That'll fall under Gaia.

>>2416224
>Evoke Gaia.
>Try to restrain and trip up the Mantis with vines and plants.
>Once it's immobilized, Evoke Igni.

Would the Mantis be able to regenerate from something like having it's head cut off or it's heart skewered? Just wondering if we can save one of the spell scrolls.

New to the board, can someone tell me what universe this is in? where can i learn more about things posted on >>2416041

If this is Kaleidoscope Quest 5 where can I see 1-4?

thank you!

>>2416289
Archives are here: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Kaleidoscope+Quest

And the universe is something I made up.

>>2416251
Anyways I'll get to writing. Venting like an idiot always does wonders. Deleting that post since I don't want it to be archived on suptg.

>>2416300
Np, bro, sometimes life just gets ya down. I've had a lot of fun with this quest and I'd love to see it continue, but if you have a lack of motivation due to the small playerbase and your schedule is incompatible then that's totally understandable. You do what's best for you man.

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While you pull out the remainder of your spell sheets, your mind is already racing as to what to do.

A century mantis is infamous for its longevity. It rarely ever mates, and if were to do so any more often than it does, it could easily destroy the ecosystem of wherever it found itself in. Impervious to almost all wounds, the coverage of its spell circles guarantee that at least one could activate in the event of any injury. The solution is simple enough to arrive to: destroy them all at the same time. Neither the brain or heart is important to it, but only the pattern on its exoskeleton.

To do so, you prepare two circles. You lay the sheets down on the floor and try to avoid your blood from accidentally leaving undesirable marks. With the first one, you evoke Gaia, the eidolon of consciousness and life. Tearing a bit of vine onto it, you wrap the bundle tightly before finishing the circle. You shout to Valeria to get out of the way before you throw it, and the sheet and its contents fall at the century mantis’s feet. The faerie stares at it curiously while the swordswoman retreats. The effect is immense.

In an explosion of life, vines, stems, and bark shoot upwards and spiral all around. It connects with other trees at odd angles, intersecting and intertwining with itself to form a prison of flora. The faerie screeches as it tries to move its arm. With its range of movement limited, its arms try to hack apart the wood. The witch, standing above as a spectator, is cussing out his lungs.

Your pen is about to finish the second circle until the creeping discomfort of the forest finally gets to you. You say, “Valeria, get Syrup! She’s still laying there!” When her brain finally processes it, she nods and runs back in, when then you say to Touryn, “I hope you’re ready to run.”

He pushes himself off the wall, staring at you worriedly and confused. “Wait, why?”

You struggle to put together why. It feels as if you have the attention of everything around you, or rather, your ring does. With this act, you’re sure, it won’t go smoothly. What you tell him, however, is simply, “I just have a bad feeling, that’s all.”

He looks at you, and after Valeria runs out with Syrup hauled over her shoulders, he says, “Okay. I’m ready. When are we running?” Right there and then, the century mantis manages to free one of its arms, and it starts hacking away free the other one without pause.

“Now!” you say, finishing the circle. Wrapping around a small stone to not damage the circle, you toss it over. There’s a violent burst of heat as a layer of fire coats the faerie. It screeches and thrashes, but you don’t stay to watch. You start running.

The witch shouts, “Whoa, whoa, what the hell are you doing?!”

Touryn says, “Are you insane? Do you want to burn this whole forest down?”

Catching up, Valeria replies, “It’s fine. This place is tough as nails.”

[1/2]

>>2416449

Oh how you wish she was wrong. As you run down the path you came from, you realize everything is reaching forward. The trees begin to bend down, the vines start to unlatch and swing into the path, and the wind blows fiercely your way. Not even a minute later and you can hear sounds of movement to both your left and right.

“Solaria damned,” Touryn says, “You weren’t joking.”

“Never have I ever seen anything like this,” Valeria says, almost in awe, “What did you do? I can’t fight when I’m carrying this girl. Hell, I’m already tired.”

You curse at how far in the place was. Couldn’t have it been closer to the entrance? Running on the dirt path, you soon realize that there’s no way you can keep this pace up. You’ll die, for sure. There’s no way you can worry about faeries getting you when your heart would definitely give up before then.

It’s then that your concentration on the road ahead breaks. You feel something tug at your leg, and all of a sudden, you’re upside down, hanging. A vine latches tightly at your ankle, squeezing so much you might think it would break something. Crying out, you say, “Help! Aah, what is this?!”

Something comes out of the greenery. With eight legs and a black sheen, an arachne steps out. Its size is fearsome, almost half your height. Touryn, still injured, jumps in front of it before it can get to you, but it doesn’t matter. When you look at the vine that’s lifting you up, you see another one of the oversized beasts on the tree, climbing downwards at you.

“Oh Luna,” you say, “I’m not ready to go like this.”

Your arms are free.
>Cut at the vine with your carving pen.
>Prepare to stab the arachne with your pen.
>Throw the ring to Touryn.
>Throw the ring to Valeria.
>Throw the ring somewhere inside the forest.
>Write-in.

>>2416456
>Throw the ring to Touryn.

>>2416456
>>Throw the ring to Touryn.
>Cut at the vine with your carving pen.

>>2416456
>>Throw the ring to Touryn.

>>2416466
>>2416493
>>2416503
Catch!

>>2416493
Cut vine

Writing

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“Touryn,” you say, trying to catch his attention. His eyes momentarily flicker to you, as if to say he was paying attention. “I’m giving the ring to you, so catch!”

Quickly taking off the ring, you awkwardly toss it to him while your sense of gravity is all screwed up. It is then that you bring your arms up in surprise, flinching and trying to cover your face as the arachne, the one that was above you, leaps forward. It passes you easily, leaving you unable to comprehend what just happened.

The other arachne did the same, and with that distraction, Touryn takes the chance and splits its head right into two. He spins around to catch the ring, only to find that he was an instant away from a faceful of spider. To his relief, the faerie is promptly skewered by a length of steel and is thrown to the side. Valeria swings her sword, trying to get the fluids off of the blade.

She says, “You’re welcome.”

He blinks. “Thank you,” he says before turning around to face even more arachne.

Meanwhile, you had been hacking away at the vine with your carving pen. Lifting yourself up painfully, you grab onto it with one hand to lift yourself up. You stab, stab, and stab at it until you break a rune of some sort. It snaps, and you end up falling onto the rough ground below. The adrenaline going through you is keeping you moving somehow, almost shutting your body’s complaints up completely.

Touryn, with the hand of his cut arm on the pommel of his sword, is keeping more spiders at bay. The runes light up despite the depleted aquamarine, and his wide strikes blast as much pressure as ever. A quick check, and you see the ring is now on his finger, resting against it. He says, “I’ve got a good idea as to what this does now.”

Valeria says, “Do you?” She shifts Syrup’s weight on her back. “Can we start running again?”

The swordsman takes one more swing, and everything before him was blown away. The branches of the trees part, leaves fall and scatter, and the arachne is thrown a great distance away. The sheer amount of aether that must’ve cost is unimaginable.

“I’ll lead,” he replies, unable to stop himself from grinning.

[1/?]

>>2416585
Ah, so it amplifies magic I guess? Maybe that's why the scrolls were so effective when we used them.

>>2416585

It took an unimaginably painful amount of time for you to reach Valeria’s cabin again. When the four of you had gotten there, the swordswoman had roughly put Syrup down, brought down the wall that she had erected before everyone entered, and collapsed onto a grassy spot on the mountain pass.

You sit down a short distance away, and Touryn stands there, staring at the forest behind him.

You say, “I can’t believe we got out of there alive. And with the ring.” Touryn's been keeping his mouth shut, so you assume that he'll talk about it later.

Valeria adds, “Never doing that again. Ain’t no one is going in there again. I’m gonna seal this place up nice and tight, and if anyone’s got a problem with that, they can walk right around the mountains and try their luck on the other side.”

Touryn says, “Planning on making a wall? Someone can just climb it.”

“The last time I escorted someone in,” she replies, “What, they just wanted to pick some flowers?”

He chuckles. “We actually went to pick flowers earlier. Herbs, actually. I’ll give you a guess as to what happened.”

You say, “Oh, no. How the hell was I supposed to know we were going to run in that witch’s nest or whatever it was?!”

“You wanted to go in there,” he replies, “I remember! Don’t think that I forgot that it was very much your idea!”

Valeria laughs, “You all are crazy. Hope I never run into you three again.”

You pout. “It’s not like we do this all the time. It sort of... happens?”

Touryn says, “Wow, I wonder why.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, shooting him an accusing look.

“I don’t know. Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he says, trying to hide a smile. Not wanting to deal with any questioning stares, he changes the subject. “Ready to get up now? Sun’s about to go down.”

“No,” you say, “I’m tired.”

At that moment, Syrup stirs. She rubs her eyes as she sits upright, and then she takes in her surroundings. With a big yawn, she says, “Good afternoon. Ah... we’re back.”

Valeria snickers. “Good afternoon to you too.” She sits upright too and says, “You’re right, can’t sleep here all day. What are you all gonna do now?”

You wonder.
>”Stay in an inn for the night, I guess.”
>”We should get back as soon as possible.”
>Write-in.

>>2416650
>Should we inform the town guard about the witch who tried to murder us?
>Contact the queen's representatives that came here with us.

>>2416650
>>”We should get back as soon as possible.”

>>2416686
This
>>2416695
And this

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>>2416709

Forgot to say I was writing. But writing.

You think out loud. “We should tell the guards about the witch, to start. Then, contact the Ruthaena’s royal guards. We should get back as soon as possible, though.” You stop when you remember something. “Oh, that’s right. We have to treat Touryn’s injury.”

He replies, “No, it’s fine. That can wait; it’s stopped bleeding.”

“It can wait?” you repeat, a little baffled.

“It’s not,” he says, “It’s messy, but nothing life-threatening.”

“Well, if you say so...” you say. Turning to Valeria, you ask, “What are you going to do?”

“Shut out the pass and sleep. I really need some rest after that,” she says, standing up. “I don’t think I’ll ever see any of you again, but keep your troubles to yourselves, okay?” she tells you, laughing lightly. “Good luck with whatever you’re up to.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling, “But the hard part’s already over. Thank you so much for helping us along. I doubt we would’ve made it out without you.”

“Ahaha, it’s nothing, really. I just did what I could,” she replies, practically beaming. “Oh look at that, the fire’s stopped.”

Everyone looks over at the Forest of Spirits as the last of the smoke drifts upwards, the flames having fully died down. Somehow, in some way, the damned forest managed to put it out.

- - -

You walk away from the city guards, having told them about the witch. They seemed more worried about Touryn’s injury than your actual words, but they told you that they’ll be on the look out for the man. They seem to be completely unurgent about it, however, which leads to you believing that there’s not much danger in Whitewaters anyways. That may be true, as the place itself is shockingly peaceful considering what you had just gone through.

After a brief walk around, you discover the coachman and the guard talking to each other while the pegasi are in a couple of stables. They’re unsurprisingly out of place. Completely so that you had no trouble finding them.

As soon as the three of you walk up to the two men, the coachman takes a step back. “Egads! What happened to you, boy?”

Touryn then spent the next few minutes attempting to dissuade them from taking him to a doctor, much to your chagrin. His argument seems mostly consisting of, “The artifact is more important,” and, “The princess comes first.”

While he’s talking, Syrup looks at you. “Why are you and Touryn like this? I would go to a doctor.”

You can only purse your lips at this comparison.

[1/2]

>>2416803

As you climb in the carriage, Touryn says, “Oh, we have the artifact—”

The coachman raises a hand, stopping him. “Not a word more. Keep what it is you want to say to yourself.”

“I see...” he mumbles, joining you and Syrup. The doors are shut, and the royal guard is seated by the coachman behind the pegasi. With that, the carriage begins to lift into the air, the small crowd from the village that had gathered below watching in fascination. When they’re small enough, Touryn says to himself, “I could use a good night’s rest about now, but I supposed that’s not an option.”

You shake your head, “No, I think that was. Actually, maybe it would’ve been a good one.”

“I would’ve shot it down, and you know it,” he replies. Unable to retort, you let the silence settle in. Syrup, seemingly bored of the view already, leans to Touryn and points at the ring he’s wearing.

She says, “What does the ring do?”

“Oh right,” you mutter. “I almost forgot about that. Touryn, didn’t you say you figured it out?”

“A little,” he replies, “Call it an educated guess.” He takes off the ring and raises it into the air. A strange soft breeze is could be felt, despite the fact that the carriage is sealed. “It seems to funnel aether through it. Like forcefully creating a river.” He hands it over to you. “Maybe you know more.”

“An aether magnet?” you spin it around, studying the engravings once more. “You know, I can’t read this.”

He shrugs. “Worth a try.”

Syrup curiously watches you. Tilting her head, she says, “Circe.” You turn your attention to her, where then she asks, “Why did you become a witch?”

“I had a talent in it,” you offhandedly reply.

“You wanted to be one?” she asks. There’s a mix of curiosity and worry with the expression she gives you.

“...Huh?” You look at her, confused.

Touryn looks away from the two of you as he says, “Just because you have a talent in it doesn’t mean you need to follow it. Especially when it’s something like...”

You stop yourself from frowning at his clearly biased outlook, but you understand where they’re coming from. The art of scarring living, breathing beings is an ugly one and it’s not exactly to be admired.

The answer...
>You have talent in it, so you were obligated to.
>You were fascinated with faeries.
>You had nothing else. This was all you could do.
>Write-in.

>>2416914
>You had nothing else. This was all you could do.

>>2416914
>You had nothing else. This was all you could do.

>>2416951
>>2416965
This

Writing

>>2416989

You had nothing else. This was all you could do. In your darkest days, all you could hold onto was this tiny strength that was given to you, one that you could barely do anything with now. Your intuition with faeries may have been greater than other, but at the end of it all, it’s worth little compared to a sword or a staff. But still, it was the only thing you had, so how can you let go of it?

You can’t, of course, and you never did. Even now, you are grateful for it and all that it’s given you.

“Being a witch is all I have,” you reply, “And I think I helped get us out of that forest, so I think I deserve a little bit of credit too.”

“True,” Touryn says, “You do have a point.”

“Besides, have I done anything horrible?” you say, and before Touryn answers, you interrupt, “Except the tunneller. That time I didn’t have a choice.”

“Okay okay,” he replies, “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Tunneller?” Syrup asks.

“Oh, you weren’t here for that,” you say. Then, after thinking about it for a second, you add, “...I don’t think it’s a story worth sharing.”

“You can’t do that,” she says, “You can’t say there’s a story and not tell it.” The herbalist looks a little hurt.

You reply, “M-maybe another time. There’s something more important right now.”

“Really?” she asks, staring quizzically.

“Yup.” You take out the “uncursed” book, showing it to her. “This!”

She frowns. “Are you going to read it?”

“I’m not going to not read it,” you say, “Just a peek.” She frowns harder. “Just a little.”

With that, you crack open the book, taking in the new experience of traversing into forbidden territory. You flip to the first page with words on it and start reading.

[1/2]

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>>2417050

I was told that keeping a journal would ease me of some troubling thoughts, and finally, the enchanter finished his work. He was kind enough to keep this a secret, although I do not know if it is out of pity or simple kindness. Still, knowing my thoughts are locked away is a wonderful comfort.

It’s at this point that a part of you tells you to stop reading.

You do not stop.

The arranged marriage will take place, that is certain. I had always known it will happen but knowledge does little to my desire to break free from these responsibilities. To escape would mean the ruin of both families, and I could never live with such a thing. I cannot help but wonder why I was born into this world, only to be burdened with such a heavy weight.

Yesterday, Siolm snuck inside again. I tell him to stop, lest he is ever caught, but if I were to be honest, I would rather him not listen. He had come bringing terrible news. The war had dragged his countrymen into the fight, and he finds himself called into battle too. I fear that this may be the last time I see him. He tells me that this may be for the better, and as much as I despise it, I could not help but find myself agreeing. I will miss him terribly. No, I already do.

You then shut the book, having realized you had just read someone’s diary. Touryn and Syrup look at you.

The latter says, “Circe, don’t fall into evil.”

Touryn just asks, “What’s so interesting?”

Not quite willing to tell them but realizing you should, you say, “...This is someone’s diary.”

“You were so drawn into it,” he says, grimacing. “Liking those intimate secrets?”

Syrup, “Don’t read any more!”

Well,
>”I can’t promise that.”
>”I need to in order to find out who to return this to.”
>”Okay, okay, I won’t.”
>”Do you want to read too?”
>Write-in.

Going to stop here for tonight, thanks for playing. I'll be back tomorrow, same time.

>>2417144
>>”I need to in order to find out who to return this to.”

>>2417149
Thanks for running!

>>2417144
>”Do you want to read too?”

Goodnight Hopeless.

>>2417144
>”Do you want to read too?”

Unfortunately my schedule's all over the place, and I'm going to be around 40 minutes late.

“Do you want to read it too?” you say, trying to hide a smile, “You do, don’t you? I bet you’re actually really interested in what’s inside. I don’t blame you; it is pretty gripping.”

“No, no I don’t!” she says, turning to the window.

“Are you sure? You’re missing out.” You raise the book, pretending to read it. “Whoa, what’s this?” Over the course of the next few minutes, you pretend the author’s constant referencing of a so-called “Siolm” is much more riveting than it actually is, making sure to occasionally out sounds of awe, surprise, and deep thought.

You watch as Syrup acts like a pot of water coming to a boil. Before you know it, she rips the book out of your hand and tries to open the door.

You try to stop her, “No, don’t throw it out! We need to return it, or at least give it back to Schwartz!”

She pushes you away while she tries to fiddle with the lock and handle. “She was right, this book is cursed!” The herbalist somehow manages to open the door, but Touryn slams it back shut without delay.

With the sternest, scariest face you’ve never expected him to make, he glares at both of you. “Please stop rocking the carriage, or I’ll throw you both out.”

Syrup sits back down and quietly says, “Okay...”

You also add, “S-sorry.”

It grows quiet again, and sensing the growing discomfort, Touryn clears his throat. He says to you, “This is a good time to ask as any.” You stop staring out the window and give him your attention, and he continues, “What happened back there? You said you knew where the artifact was, and sure enough, it was there. And those shadow faeries...”

Syrup answers for you. “Circe said she was there before.”

“What?” he says, turning to you. “Is that right?”

You reply, “Kind of? I’ve been there before... in a dream, I think?” Neither of them say anything, but you are pretty sure they both think you’ve lost your mind. “I think I heard a voice, and for some reason, I just knew where it was. And the nightstalkers too. It’s really hard to explain, but... it sort of... just happened.”

“So you were hallucinating from the poison and we got lucky, got it.” Touryn crosses his arms. Well, he tries to, and when he realizes it hurts, he stops. He says, “Anything else I should know?”

It looks like he doesn’t believe you at all.
>”Well if you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do.”
>”I think I would know if I was hallucinating.”
>”No, that’s about it.”

>Say something else to him. (Write-in)

>>2419237
>”I think I would know if I was hallucinating.”

>>2419256
Hallucinating

Writing

I wonder how Syrup would have reacted if we had asked her if she wanted to eat the book instead of read the book...

“I think I would know if I was hallucinating,” you say, “That’s a lot of coincidences for it to be just that.”

“I can’t imagine it being anything else. I’ve no doubt it was a convincing one, seeing as how you seemed to be right on a whole lot of things,” he replies, “Coincidences are coincidences.”

“I guess,” you weakly reply.

The real answer you could give him was that a faerie poked into your mind and whispered you secrets, and that about reaches the requirements for someone to be called insane. Not feeling too strongly about making their opinions of you drop to an all-time low, you decide to keep your mouth shut. Although you’re not sure if that really did any good, after all, with the skepticism they’re giving you.

Still, you're sure you know what you saw.

- - -

You drift between a state of being half-asleep and being awake as the carriage lands. It’s dark and Luna is starting to descend now, and you can barely take in the palace as you walk through its courtyard. Its size isn’t actually that big—there isn’t quite the room for that in Ristella—but it’s still impressive enough for you to sear it deep in your memory right alongside the luxurious image of the pegasi.

To Touryn’s displeasure, the three of you were told to rest for the night so that you could see Her Highness properly in the morning. When you reminded him that showing up in such an awful state would be more insulting than anything, he promptly shut his mouth and let his opulent surroundings engulf him in an ocean of comfort.

[1/2]

>>2419345

You needed no urging to enjoy yourself in one of the palace’s many baths, almost spending so long in it that you’ve begun to feel a bit dizzy.

An hour later, the hazy mess of the late-night-early-morning begins to solidify as you sit in a mind-numbingly soft bed. It has a canopy over it, something that reminds you how tall the ceiling is and how spacious the room is. Your mind is restless as you tumble around in your sheets, unable to fall asleep. Somewhere along the line, your brain must’ve given up trying to tell you to rest, and now it’s reinvigorated your body. Or maybe it was the bath.

Frustrated, you sit up and lean back on one of the numerous pillows. You reach to the side and grab your bag, and you pull out the diary. No doubt, it is the most effective sleeping aid.

You flip to where you last left off and start reading. Well, not quite reading, more like skimming through the day-to-day droll.

For the first time, I had been able to have a conversation with my betrothed without a slew of curious onlookers watching. A private talk, and a surprisingly pleasant one at that. He was fair, polite and, to my surprise, very reserved. I had thought he did not want to draw unwanted attention from the others, but perhaps I was wrong. Or perhaps, my presence too is unwanted. More than once there was a long silence, one that Siolm would have certainly made a careless joke.

Upon seeing the “S” word again, you promptly close the thing and put it to the side.

You stretch your arms as you get off your bed. Taking a look around, you feel like you need to do something.

Anything.
>Check on Touryn.
>Check on Syrup.
>Just take a walk around.
>Write-in.

Sorry about that. I'm having a bit of a writer's block

>>2419456
>>Check on Touryn.
>>Check on Syrup.

It's all good.

>>2419466
Check on both.

Writing!

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You’ll check on both of them, you guess.

You knock on Touryn’s room with two quick taps, when you hear him tell you to come in, you open the door. You see him... doing something, not quite sure what. He has a cloth on his sword, rubbing at a spot. Maintenance, you suppose. He’s changed into something lighter and not as stuffy. His arm is now bandaged.

You ask, “How are you doing?”

He stops what he’s doing and touches the bandages. “Good. The cut would heal up fine. That mantis was faster than I expected for something of that size.” He looks at you and says, “What are you up to? Can’t sleep?”

“Hahah, nope,” you reply, “What do they call it? Second wind or something?”

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” he replies, “Maybe you’re just nervous about meeting Her Highness?”

“That’s definitely part of it,” you say, “I don’t even know what to do. Is there like a procedure I need to follow?”

“Follow my lead,” he replies, “It’s not something to stress over. In any case, I’m sure it would be understood if there were any mistakes.”

“Mistakes, huh.” You take a short walk to a chair besides a small table and sit down. “Say, it’s kind of surprising.”

“What is?” he says, curious.

“Do you... respect the princess because she’s Ristellan royalty, or an Aldrosian one?”

He thinks for a moment, saying nothing. Then, he answers, “It’s because she is one. Where ever she goes, I will follow. Even if she were to start a war against Aldrose itself, I would join her side.”

“...Didn’t you say that about Mitra?”

[1/2]

>>2419614

“The same goes for her,” he replies.

“Then...” you say, “What if you had to choose?”

“Between the two of them?” he asks. You nod, and he says, “I can’t do that!”

“What do you mean? Just pick! Mitra, or the princess!” you say, “One or the other?”

“Don’t ask for the impossible!” he replies, “I can’t imagine ever needing to go against either of them.” When he finishes saying that, you realize he wasn’t ever going to give you a straight answer. You sigh, resigning to his indecision. He asks, “What about you? Instead of my mentor, what if it were yours?”

“Professor Mog’s not really a mentor,” you say, “But... obviously I’d pick him. I don’t really have close ties with the royal family. So, of course I’d go with what’s personal to me.” You look out the window, at the night sky. There isn’t really much time to sleep, you guess. You say, “What do you think the two of them are doing right now?

He says, “Something important, certainly.”

“Something to do with Queen Thyra’s passing?”

“...” He doesn’t answer, letting your question hang in the air. You suppose he doesn’t need to. The events all line up. Unlike your premonition, these coincidences point to something more believable. After a while, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

“Oh, that?” You try to look at it, awkwardly turning your body. “I forgot anything even happened. It was more numb than anything, really.”

He sighs. “Can you at least act with a little more thought? It’s really difficult for me to do my part when you stick your head out all the time.”

You reply,
>”But, I’m already careful.”
>”What was that you said? ‘Don’t ask for the impossible’?”
>”Only if that means you stop shoving me around.”
>Write-in.

>>2419683
>>”What was that you said? ‘Don’t ask for the impossible’?”
>"I'll try to stay out of danger... mostly."

>>2419693
All this

Writing

”What was that you said? ‘Don’t ask for the impossible’?”

“Ah yes,” he replies, “Your forehead seems to have a condition where it’s magnetically attracted to danger.”

“Why my forehead?!” you reply. When you touch it with a hand, Touryn smirks. You frown and say, “Well, I’ll try to stay out of danger... mostly.”

“As long as you try,” he replies.

With that, you get up and walk over to the door. As you open it, you turn around and say, “Get some sleep, will you? I know how weird you are about these things.”

“Isn’t that my line?” he replies, right before you shut the door.

Without much pause, you move on to check on Syrup. Like before, you knock twice. This time, you hear a muffled “Who is it?” as a reply.

“It’s me,” you say, poking your head through the door as an answer. At a glance, you can tell that she’s rearranged the furniture so that the tables and chairs are right next to the bed, allowing her to fiddle with her things in the comfort of those silky sheets. You are almost in awe.

You say, “Can I come in?” She nods, and you walk in. Careful not to disturb her too much, you sit down on the bed while giving her a bit of space. “What are you up to?” Looking at the setup, you figure out that she’s been messing around with a bunch of plant parts you can’t recognize. Then again, there’s not many of them that you even know.

She replies, “Testing. I found a lot of new things.” With a gloved hand, she lifts a small piece of a green leaf and places it in a glass bottle filled with some kind of clear liquid, giving the mixture a quick swirl. It turns red quickly.

“Ooh, what was that? What did you do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she flatly replies. Of course. She then raises it up to you. “Do you want to taste?”

“No.”

[1/2]

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629 KB JPG

>>2419755

You say, “You sure like to taste things...”

Syrup puts the glass down, and then with her attention free, she looks at you. “Don’t you? If I go somewhere new, I want to try to taste everything.”

“Everything might be a little too much,” you reply, “I don’t think you should stick just anything in your mouth.”

She frowns, “Why?” You are left speechless, and she continues, “Life is too short to not enjoy it. Circe, you have to try everything. The first dish had to cooked by someone. The first recipe, the first anything! There are all these things out there,” she says, lifting the glass up, “Things that nobody knows or have seen. That’s why I will taste it; I will taste history!”

“When you say it like that...” you say, faintly reminded of your desire to taste roc meat. “Still, isn’t it dangerous?”

“It’s good because it’s dangerous,” she replies, “If it was easy, then anyone can do it. If anyone can do it, then it wouldn’t matter.” You don’t want to say anything, not quite wanting to put down her dreams and aspirations. Syrup, on the other hand, asks you, “What’s fun for you?”

“...Huh? What do you mean?”

“Eating and learning is fun for me, so I always do it. I travel around so I can eat and learn more and more. You said you don’t like being a witch, so what is fun?” she elaborates.

“It’s not that I dislike being a witch,” you reply, “I don’t have that kind of strong feelings toward it, but...” You trail off, thinking. She’s asking you what you do for fun, and yet you find yourself unable to answer that. Or rather, is she asking what you do when you’re not working on witch things? Life under Mog’s wing isn’t one that’s always too boring, but with a bit of thought, you find it increasingly difficult to form some kind of answer. You like helping people, but you hate it if it’s a hassle you’re roped into. If that’s the case, how can that possibly serve as an answer?

Syrup, seeing this, grabs the glass again. She raises it to you, as if giving it to you. “...Do you want to try?” She’s offering her hobby to you—not hobby, a lifestyle maybe, with the way she goes through with it.

The leaf sits there, in the swirling red water.
>You shouldn’t.
>Just a sip.
>Drink it all at once.

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>>2419805
>Drink it all at once.
>We like to help people. Even if it's contradictory, it's still true in some way.

>>2419821
Oh, wait, maybe change to we down half of it and Syrup downs the other?

>>2419805
>You shouldn’t.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>2419836
1
>>2419838
2

Writing

“Thanks for the offer, but...” You place both of your hands on hers, and ever so gently, you push it back to her. You reply, “Sorry, I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

She looks disappointed as takes it back, and waiting a moment, she takes a sip of it herself. “Bleh,” she says, making a disgusted face, “It was bad.”

You can’t help but smile a little. You say, “I think I do have something.”

“What is it?” she asks, poking for an answer.

“It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud,” you reply, “I... like helping people.” It’s contradictory, but it’s still true in some way. You can’t help but think... “It’s kind of strange, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “I like it,” she replies, “It’s nice.”

You get up, off the bed. “Thanks for indulging me,” you say, “I should really get some rest.”

With a small smile, Syrup says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you say back. And to yourself, you say as you close the door behind you, “It’s probably going to be morning soon.”

[1/2]

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>>2419885

The afternoon after, you find yourself speechless as you enter Iorina Ludinauer’s chamber. Solaria is high in the sky, and its light pouring through the palace windows is strangely fitting. The guards lead you in wordlessly, and the three of you enter. You’ve only seen her momentarily from far away, but it was completely different.

It is upon sight that you felt that you were in the presence of a god, or the closest thing you’ve ever felt to it. It is the only way you can describe the feeling if divinity radiating out from her. You’ve only heard that passing description of Queen Thyra from Touryn, but it’s only now that you fully understand what he had meant.

Her appearance is itself is baffling. No matter how hard you try, you find it impossible to put a number on her age. Any physical hints of youth and maturity are mixed together and muddled, forming a strange image to nigh immortality. Around her, its as if the light bends to illuminate the spot she stands on.

When she opens her mouth, her voice is in a smooth cadence, one that’s so entrancing, you find yourself more focused on the “how” and not the “what”.

Seemingly unfazed, Touryn replies, “Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness.” He performs a small bow with his head, and you follow by doing a curtsey. Syrup does one too, although awkwardly. The three of you introduce yourselves in varying levels of stiffness, although the princess doesn’t seem bothered by it.

Iorina gives the three of you a warm smile. She says, “I must thank you all for your service, and I must apologize for the short notice. I’m sure it was troubling for you all to leave so suddenly.”

Touryn replies, “It wasn’t a problem, ma’am.”

She laughs. “Oh please, you may call me Iorina.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“No, I insist,” she replies. Even with that smile, her eyes become sterner than usual. “Truth be told, I was surprised to learn you had returned so soon. I was warned it was a difficult task. It goes without saying that I’m very pleased to see you all return to Ristella... relatively unharmed.” For some reason, you doubt that she expected you to return at all. “I’ll make sure to repay the three of you very well.” She clasps her hands together. “Now, I’m sure you have questions. I can answer whatever it is that you wish to know, within reason and provided that everyone can keep a secret.” She smiles warmly again. “I’m sure that would never be a problem.”

When she says that you wonder if she had just cursed herself.

What do you ask?
>”What does the ring do?”
>”Have you met with someone named Mitra or Mog?”
>”Why us?”
>Ask her something else. (Write-in)

>>2419934

>”Why us?”
>”Have you met with someone named Mitra or Mog?”
>”What does the ring do?”
>The witch from the forest is concerning. He seemed to know what the ring was 'where' it was, without the compass we were given, and, even more conspicuously, he arrived before us.Do you know who he might be or how he could have known the things he did.

>>2419948
Everything, and more!

Writing

“Why us?” you ask, “Surely there would’ve been people better suited.”

“Is there?” she asks, “I was recommended you all, and I believe that she was more familiar with these matters than I. I’ve known little outside the comfort of city walls, as all I have are second-hand accounts and some literature.”

You say, “I can’t imagine anyone that would recommend us.”

Touryn replies, “Mitra, and Mog.”

“Mitra, yes, although I’m unfamiliar with this ‘Mog’. And as far as I can tell, it seems that her words were not wrong. You’ve all returned with the artifact, am I wrong?” She raises a hand to signal one of the guards, and he enters the room to hand her the ring. You’ve given it to them last night, and here it is now. “And here it is, in pristine condition. Amazing,” she says, in admiration.

You have doubts as to whether or not the reason she gave was all there was. You were told nothing, and the mission was not an easy one. If you had failed and succumbed to any dangers, then she would have lost nothing.

“Speaking of Mitra,” Touryn says, “Do you know where she is now?” Certainly, Mog would be with her.

“Finding the second piece, I’m sure,” she replies, “I fear that I’m not aware of their current whereabouts, but from what we spoke of last, it seems that they intended to head north.

You mutter, “Second... piece?”

“Oh, yes! How can I forget? Allow me to elaborate,” she replies. She taps the ring with a finger, and she quietly says to the guards in the room, “If you don’t mind, I would like to be left alone with them.”

One of them tries to say something. “But—”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she instantly interrupts. With that, the royal guards acquiesce, slowly filing out of the room. When they are gone, she clears her throat.

For some odd reason, you have the terrible thought that despite her delicate figure, the guards were in the room for not her safety, but yours. It’s a baseless intrusive thought, but one that clings to the back of your mind nonetheless.

[1/2]

>>2419967

With that out of the way, Iorina thoughtfully pauses. She peers out her window momentarily before answer. “I’m not sure how common this knowledge is, but are you all aware that it is we who called Solaria, not the opposite? The bloodline of Ludinauer was chosen not because we were special after Solaria had judged all of life, but rather because we were the first and only ones to reach out to it. You see, in a foolish, prideful struggle for power my ancestors forced it to descend with an evocation of the highest order. They had proved their strength, and in return, Solaria decided to bring humanity a Gift. The first Gift, the spell circle. We were, in other words, the ambassador of humanity.”

Touryn listens attentively and quietly. You can see an ever so slight hint of perplexion as he processes her words. You could feel the same way. This is the first time you’ve ever heard of this. When you glance at Syrup, you find her face unreadable. For a moment, you wonder if she’s even listening at all, or that she even cares.

Iorina continues. “To call the eidolon down, they required two things. A circle that could split Solaria from the aether, and a source of power to do so. What they used were lost with time, but that matters little; technology appears to be growing at a rather alarming rate.” She slips on the ring and raises it in the air. A small breeze appears inside this room. “Ryletley’s ring is a masterpiece. It is more than enough to power the circle. It is fitting too, as it was the combined efforts of Aldrose’s finest arcanist and Ristella’s greatest enchanter. As of now, I’m sure those Aldrosian nobles are in the midst of a power struggle; I’ve heard quite a few plans for an oligarchic republic. If I’m successful, then I would seize the throne and unite these two nations.” You can’t help but gasp quietly upon hearing this, and she wears a pleased expression. “Quite the feat, no?”

The sheer difficulty of doing something like this is unimaginable. To say that there would be some discontent would be an understatement.

Seemingly free of this skepticism is Touryn, who says, “If you are successful, then we would have no need to repeat a continental war. I can’t believe something of this magnitude was riding on our shoulders.”

You agree although you don’t vocalize it.

“I do have other plans in case this one went awry,” she replies. “And when you bring up the Grand War, I do feel a great deal of guilt.” If she didn’t you would be worried. Her leaving her responsibilities behind only added more fuel to the fire. “But with this, I hope to rectify any grievances.”

Syrup, on the other hand, seems to be getting sleepy. Her eyes are fluttering shut every now and then. Iorina doesn’t seem to mind.

[2/3]

>>2419996

“Ma’am—sorry, Iorina,” you correct yourself, “Does the Ruthaena family know?”

“How can they?” she says, “This is the first time I’ve ever spoken of it. And even if they do, what of it? We’re nothing more than figureheads, and the Prime Minister is too busy to deal with ridiculous gossip.”

Touryn asks, “Is it truly okay for us to know this?’

“You deserve at least this much. Maybe I’ll even ask for your assistance in the future. Plenty of time in advance, of course,” she says, smiling.

It is now that you know for sure that you want absolutely nothing to do with this. Never again. You are far too small to be engaging in the lunatic frenzy where powerful people compete for control, using the people as if they were nothing more than pieces in a board game. Then again, you’re not sure if you can decline anything from her. You can’t imagine what would happen to you—being thrown into a dungeon would be unsurprising, for one.

With one last thing on your mind, you say, “There’s something else. There was a witch in the forest that knew what the ring was, where it was without the compass, and, most conspicuously of all, got there before us.” You give her a short summary of the events, describing the faeries that he had tamed quickly.

“That’s worrisome,” she says, covering her mouth with a hand. She thinks for a second before continuing to speak. “I wasn’t aware of any witches that fit your description. His ‘nightstalkers’, however. I recall reading somewhere they could only be found in the mountains of Elphrath. Perhaps it was only simple coincidence that you and him were searching for the same object. To hear of my mother’s death and to learn of my plan so quickly... why, that seems impossible.” Iorina looks up again, facing you. “Yes, I’m certain. It was only by chance. I believe I have nothing to worry about. In any event, Ryletley’s ring is safely in my possession. Well then, if there’s nothing more, then I really must be on my way. As much as I’d love to spend all day chatting, I have matters to which I must attend.”

That’s her way of signaling you to leave, you suppose.
>”No, that’s all.”
>Ask something else. (Write-in)

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Alright, it's getting late as all hell and I've got midterm week to enter. I'll wrap up this thread with a post tomorrow. Thanks for playing!

>>2420012

>Does the name Azalea sound familiar to you? Or...Siolm?
>That's all.

>Yes, I’m certain. It was only by chance. I believe I have nothing to worry about.
Ha. There's some wishful thinking.

Anyways, thanks for running hopeless! I've actually got a midterm in like 6 hours ;_;

>>2420014
Good night. Sleep well. Thanks for running.

>>2420012
>Does the name Azalea sound familiar to you? Or...Siolm?

Thanks for running!

>>2420034
>>2420205

“One last thing,” you say, “Does the name Azalea sound familiar to you? Or...Siolm?”

“Azaleas,” Iorina says, “They’re beautifully vivid flowers, aren’t they? They’re also renowned for their toxicity. I’ve heard in the northwest, a bouquet of one would be delivered to another as a threat upon their life.” You’re about to say something, but she continues speaking before you do. With a certain coldness added, she says, “Whoever it is you’re searching for, I don’t know anything about them. I would surmise there would be more than one child unfortunate enough to be given such a name, and if it was even the least bit fitting, then perhaps it would be best for you to maintain your distance. Some things are best left alone, their colors to be admired from afar.”

“I see...” you quietly say.

“As for Siolm, I believe the origin of that name is from the Laonmu region up North, somewhere in those mountains.” She stops, and then frowns. “Oh, my sincerest apologies. How presumptuous of me; that was quite an assumption to make.” The princess erases the doubt on her face before she speaks to you again. “I’m afraid I can’t be much of assistance to you.”

“No, that was plenty,” you say, “Thank you for your help.”

“The least I could do,” she repeats, smiling again. You, Touryn, and Iorina exchange a few more pleasantries before you begin to leave, where she then stops you as she remembers something. “Circe, do you still have the aether dowser with you?”

“...Sorry?” you say, confused.

“The little dome-shaped device I gave to you,” she says.

“Oh, I have it right here,” you reply, starting to reach in your satchel for the compass thing.

Iorina raises a hand to motion for you to stop. “Keep it. Consider it a small gift,” she says, then rethinking it. “Or perhaps in exchange for keeping private what we’ve discussed.”

Touryn replies, “We would never say anything.”

You nod. “Right.”

With a pleased expression, Iorina says, “Of course. Well, do take care.”

[1/3]

>>2422241

Goodbyes were exchanged. Escorted by a handful of royal guards, you, Touryn, and Syrup were brought past the palace gates and back onto the streets of Ristella. Before they left you to your business, they handed you a single envelope.

While you open it, Syrup asks Touryn, “How is your arm?”

He replies, “I’m surprised. It feels a lot better.” He moves it, showing that it’s free of pain. “You have to show me how you made that medicine some time.”

“Okay.” She smiles and says, “When we get the chance to go to the Forest of Spirits again.”

“Uh, I don’t know if we’ll ever get the chance or that I’ll even want to go back there, but I’ll look forward to it,” he says, laughing a little.

From the envelope, you pull the small slip of paper out and take a look at it. “Oh, we’re being paid by credit.”

The other two turn their attentions to the paper, peeking over to see what was on it. Touryn takes a look at it, and as everyone’s eyes drift to the amount written and stamped for approval, he says in surprise, “Wait, did they make a mistake?”

You say, “...I think they added a few too many zeroes.”

[2/3]

>>2422245

Meanwhile...

Mumbling complaints and curses, a fantastically oversized crow hunches over as he scribbles down something on the floor with a pen gripped by a foot. That crow, of course, can be none other than Professor Mog, and his surroundings could not be anything farther from luxury: a damp dungeon cell with filth all around him. The only sight of the outside world is a tiny barred window, its size insultingly small.

Adjacent to his cell is a fantastically oversized rat, one that goes by the name Mitra. She pokes her head through the cell bars and peeks at the crow.

Grumbling, she says, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replies, “I’m writing a letter!”

She blinks. “You do know I can simply...” She’s unable to finish her sentence. After all, there are curious listeners around, both other inmates and guards.

“They’ve permitted me one letter, so I’m writing one.” After a minute, he finishes and puts down the pen. “Ah, done. Guards? Anyone there?” the professor calls out, and Mitra only slides back inside her cell.

She sighs as sits on the bed given to her, wondering what exactly is she doing, playing along with this farce. Under her breath, she says, “Perhaps this is for the best.” She quietly waits and listens as Mog converses with a man, who walks away with the piece of paper. After a long minute, she frowns. “No, what in Gaia’s name am I doing?!”

Mog, upon hearing this, says, “Oh, what are you doing now? Why can’t you sit down and wait?”

Mitra sticks her head out the cell again. In the loudest voice she can, she says, “Marufi can kiss my ass, that son of a bitch!” She storms back in her cell, and there’s a loud noise as she rips apart her bed. She then wraps her hand and wrist with the torn cloth. Winding an arm back, she sends a fist into one of the steel bars, bending it so much that it practically snaps in half.

Mog says nothing, only burying his face under his wings.

Thread's done! Again, thanks for playing! Kaleidoscope will be taking a break for a week since next Sunday is special.

I'm here for any comments, questions, or concerns. Criticism is appreciated, too.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hopelessQM

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>>2420034
Hope you did well, anon.

Meta stuff, but I was doing some research and apparently banking was a thing back then even in ancient Mesopotamia. I feel like I'm an idiot for not thinking that was obvious.