|| " In the space between chaos and shape, there was another chance. " - Jeanette Winterson, The World and Other Places: Stories ||

Empty halls made empty hearts, so the saying went. Perhaps it wasn't to be taken as seriously, if the empty hall of mention was anything else other than Haven Hall itself.

Haven Hall is the translated title of the realm of gods, depicted by storytellers as an opulent and overly luminescent homestead, of opened ceilings that swallowed the stars and windows of colorful glass that showed a different face to their story with every change of lighting. When celebrations were held, the lights of the realm were dimmed, set low, set moody, to be replaced by the soothing glow of the blooming bulbs set alight along the pillars, those pillars of carved crystal that pierced the sky.

Though every pillar starts out bare, whenever a soul ascends to that of godly status, they are blessed with an empty pillar of their own, where a statue of their new face is left for all to see. From there, the bulbs grow onward, so the longer the deity lived, the more that grew along the pillar. In this hall, a total of twenty statues remained undamaged, out of the hundreds there used to be.

These twenty undamaged statues represent the remaining gods. Said remaining gods, however, are missing. When meetings were held, they would replace the likeness of their statue themselves, as if reanimating from slumber to shed stony skin, but there was no such reanimation now. The statues gathered dust Strange mold had begun to grow over their gardened pillars, darker than the material consuming the rest of the forlorn foyer. Lighting remained dim. Bulbs, unlit.

None other than gods and their subjects were allowed in Haven Hall. Yet, in a time of turmoil, one fresh, new soul, clean off the cosmic conveyor, has mistakenly made their way.

They soon find it was no mistake. Inexplicably drawn their by their own spirit, their own will, they are drawn to the empty thrones, and drawn to the darkening lights. For among the souls made before them, and the souls that may never come after, they have been called.

The world that pantheon swore to protect is at war. And when their people needed them most, their gods vanished. Perhaps it is a quest for this soul, or perhaps it is but one worry of many. Either way, they cannot pursue it as they are. They have been drawn here for a reason, after all. To pursue that reason, they need more than what they have. They need life.

And there is still some semblance of life left in these halls. For that is what this soul is here for. Creation.

For if there are none here to create, then one must create for themselves.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

At the bases of all twenty statues lay an altar, where the gods that they were made for could be summoned for their meetings at will. The altars have been mostly consumed by the strange growth, but are otherwise salvageable.

These are the altars you will use to create your hero. You may either approach one of altars already made, or decide to make your own, for safety precautions.

The deities and altars will be described if you choose to follow their will, instead of your own. Following your own, however, you will only get descriptions of the altars and their item properties. You will gain no knowledge on the Gods.

Contemplate. Will you follow the image of your Gods, or an image all your Own?

|:| Path of a God <<
|:| Path of a Gorgon <<

path of the gorgon, we are here because the gods failed to keep this place properly. following them will only result in a repeat.

path of the gorgon, we have come to asses greed, find its root and evil, to make it good for us.

|| |:| Path of a God ||
|| |:| Path of a Gorgon << ||

The distant echoes beckon them to the other altars, but instinct instead drives them to another. Among the circle of statues, the twenty-first statue is broken beyond recognition, but the altar below it does not beckon with sound.

Drawn in by the welcome silence, they approach. This altar is untouched by the contagion of the Hall, oddly enough, but all markings defining the deity who reigned over the pillar have been worn down, or otherwise scratched off. They cannot tell if it was by intentional hand or passage of time. It looks convincingly Forgotten, either way.

One look over the pillar shows one of the longest, most prosperous gardens growing along the length, to where they cannot see where the growing ends. But it looks to be that most of it was torn asunder, or plucked before they blossomed. It seems this deity did not garner much favor, whoever they used to be.

The remnants of the statue only stretch from their uppermost left shoulder down to the right of their hip. They look to have had two arms on one side, which means either they had two on the other side missing, or were a very uneven, avant-garde god. The arms taper, long and lean, with rivets of plating intricately carved into the visage of a shell, and of odd looking joints. They bear absolutely no clothing upon them, so the rest that isn't broken off is easy to tell. A ribcage of smooth, sharp curves, a long spine, of many sharp ends and angles, which reflect the crookedness of the overall figure, from the protruding pelvis down to the sharpened legs, of which they only had two. There were no feet where the soul looked before the altar, but those legs looked sharp enough to kill.

The altar itself looks to have lost many important components. There are scraps of dark metal, polished to a shine, yet of no light whatsoever, and broken shards that belong to the stained glass window once showing this deity's story. There are a few crystal spheres set in where lights would've been, but they are not set to light themselves, and the poor soul doesn't know how to spark them. There is also a black fluid instead of water for offerings. It drips very slowly, and very thickly. They can't tell what it is.

The altar itself looks like it used to be sleek, very beautifully made, before someone tore their weapon through it and cracked the whole table in half. There are faint remnants of paint, but they are left unclear to what they originally illustrated.

There are no hints to what may result from using this altar to create a vessel. Not even hints as to what is necessary. This doesn't look as easy as Rocket Science.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In order to make a proper vessel for this soul, more items will be needed. This obviously isn't enough.

What will you do?

|:| Inspect other Altars <<
|:| Inspect Inventory <<
|:| Inspect Miscellaneous Surroundings <<

we have an inventory? check that.

and try just touching the light spheres. perhaps that is enough?

|| |:| Inspect other Altars ||
|| |:| Inspect Inventory << ||
|| |:| Inspect Miscellaneous Surroundings ||

The soul decides to check on them for any items, but finds || NOTHING WHATSOEVER ||. Turns out, just because you have an inventory to check, doesn't mean you'll have anything to find.

Having nothing on them, and showing hesitance around investigating the other altars, they reach a curious, ethereal limb toward one of the spheeeeeeeeEEEEÉ̲̻̹̯̝̪̤ͦ̌̈́ͭ͜E͈̣̼͎̍́Ė͉̟̩͇͇̩͑͗͛̽̚E͖̪͎̤͉͌͋̐̈̐ͅͅE̮̳̋̋E̮̩̝̫ͬÈ͚̗̓́̎́Ë̠̼̠̤̝͓̺͒E͡E̥̮̼̱̖ͦ̽ͨ̎ͣE͆ͭͤ͆̀
͇̭͕͕̟͖È͍͙̹̣̣̟̈́̓̈́Ḙ͈̯̗̺̫̜̄ͭͪͪ̕EͤẺ̵̬̯͓̥͇̘ͣ̅E̺̦͙͖̗ͧE͉̘̜̬͓̗̣̿̄ͩ̄ͭË̯̼͎͖́̚E̵͉͈ͨͬ̆ͨͬͅEE̸̴̝͐̊ͬ͒͊̃͝E̪̠̗̥̭̦ͧ͌̂ͧ͆̚͟Ė͂͊
̸̯̱̖̯̫̦ͮ̎̍̑E̟̫̟̙̼̤̟ͥ̊̅ͯ̏E͑ͣͣ̐ͫ̅̀͏̠̺̱̣̥͈̞̥ͅE̢͖͙̹̪͌́͆͊̀̍͝Ę̜̤̔̾ͥ̒̓̌ͬͩḘ̵͎͒ͬ͂ͭͫ͐͋Ę̫̝̱̞̣͖͈̃́ͪ͒̑̒̀͢E̸̡̜͎͎̹̦͒̋ͯ͐ͪ̎͆
̭E̴̖̞̬̿ͣ̒̕̕E̮̖͕̯̐̈̏͑E̱͛ͧ̏̃͑̓ͩ͜E̯͖͎͍̥͍̓ͥ͢͜ͅͅẺ̴̟̯̩̬͎̐ͧͩ̿ͫ̋̉̀Ẹ̙̥̋̓ͣ͘Ȩ͍̤͐̀E̛̽̓҉̟̦̯͇͉̖̠̹E̹͇͔ͭ̊̚ͅE̛̅͆ͦͩ͊ͧ͑͋ͮ͗̎̈͘͡
̱͙͔̜̮̬͇͡Ȇ̵̵̜̻̞͈̯̯̟͈̟͎̣̘̼̯̱̇̏ͤ̇͌̓ͭ͗̇ͬ̐̆́̓͆ͤͅE̷̡̧̳̻̹̦̲̹̩̺̠̮̩̜̲͖̳̲̜͑̂ͥ͐͗̉̽͗͂̐ͨ͆̆̈́͂́̎͋͘̕E͎͔̣̱͙̭̹͊̑ͩ̉͑̒̾͐̉ͧ̈̃̾̒ͧ̚͘
Ȩ̴̣̺̙̠̦̯͕͓̣͍͉͎͎͚͚̩̉̓ͫ̃͋̾̾̕͝͝E̸̴̸̗̹̘̳̞̮̪̘̱̲͍̹͍͈̣͍̮̓̄ͤ͂͐̃ͫ̏͒̇͑̆̒̃̿́̚̕E̴̛̠͕̻͇͍͚̭̘̗̟̲̿̎̿ͫ͂͒ͩ̆͊̒͌̌̏͑͋̀̕͢E̸ͯ̈ͫ҉̶̙̟̭
̠̭̯̭͉͙̙͙̱̝̦͚̫͕̲Ḙ̴͍͈̰ͪ̃̄ͣ́͐̄̎͂͒̽̄ͪ͂͑̉͂͠E̊͋ͨͥͪ̈̔ͧ̎̚̚͏̨͍͈͙̬̮̣̞͍͇͖͇̘E̎ͬͣ̌ͩ̀̀̅͐̆̇̆̈ͧ͐ͣ̈́̇̂͏̢̢̹͎̰̲͚͎̭͚͢ͅͅE̵̛ͪ͋ͪ̔̊͗͘͢
̬̲͖̼́Ȇ̶̷̠̙̼̣͚̞̺̤̱̳̳͖̳͓̫̻͈̪̅̑̇ͦ̊̅̉ͤͧ̆̃ͥE̡̗̖͇̥̜͖͖ͯͧͬͩ̊̓ͯ͆́̓̓̽̆͐̊̉E̶͒̅̉͐͒̐ͭ̋̌ͭ̾ͫ̆̾̌͒̊̉͡͏̫̬̫̠͓͈͈̞̟͝E̸̶͍͔͎͒ͯ͌ͬ̋̅̓ͅ
̰͉͚̬E̺̫͚͙̰̼̱̫̳̣̼̮̘̲̅̑ͥ̈́̉̄̊̆ͧ́̚E̒͂͛̇ͣ̃̇͒ͯͣͩ͗͋̾̽̇ͯ̈̚͜͜͝҉̹̹͔̬͙̝̞̯̥̞̠̖̯͔̠̪̘̙Ȩ̠̲͉̻̺̲̟̦̊̊́̂ͤͣ̓ͬ͛́͂́ͫ͆͑̽ͮ̀͢EẼ̇͛̔̆̾͆
̷̢̗̣̺͇̥̦Ë̢͍̞̖̺̻̣͍͔͌̐ͤ͐̚Ḙ̲ͪͫͨ͊ͥ̈́͞Ẻ̴̶̥̱̂͠ͅE̵͉̙̳̥̳͔̓̅̀̚͟E̋͌ͧ́͌͛͢҉̴̹͎̥̥͖̪͍Ḙ̢̧̃ͦ̿ͮE̷̜̭̣̯̥͇̱ͪ̒̈́͟E̽̅͐͏̨̮̹͖̣̘̺͞È̆
̵̢̝͔̩̘̺ͪ͋̾͂̓Ē̶̴͍̯͖͕̼̙̗ͭ̈́̓̃ͤ͑E̵̷̥̬̜͍̣̖̖̋͗̅̔̀ͤ̚Ë̖̯͍̜̤̮͈͙̱ͮͧ̀̚Ȩ͚̳̪̣̬͉̊͊͗͂́Ë̡͍͙̹ͨ̂͡E̶̡̫̮͂ͥ͊̾E̴̳̙̰̹͈͕ͥ̓̇̈́̐̅ͮ͜Ẽ
̣̤̝͎̲̓̋̌̈͋̀È̮̥͚̘̠̥̈́Ë̸̮̫̬̜̜̩̲́ͦ̈́̿E̥̟ͤ̇̓̂̈͌̚E͚̗̬̹͌͂ͩ͟E̛͈̿̆̚E̘̥̲̦̞̱ͨ̋E͌̀̌͑̐͗E̼̫͙̜͚̐̔̉͑ͬͥ͢ē͉͕̱̏ͦ͂͛̎ͫe̯̺̜̖͙͟e̠͎̫̕
̙̰ĕ̫͚̙̂̽ͦͪ̓̊eͪe̥͓̲̺ͣͥ̏ͩ̽ͤ͗ͅͅe̿ͤ̂̓ͫ̉̐͏̠̞͖͖̟̙e̩͇̞ͩ̄ͧ

The soul musters what little strength they have left and abruptly frees their limb of the siphoning sphere.

Lovely.

A glance back to their limb shows half of a smoking tendril, fading and flaking at the remnants around where an elbow joint would have been. The instinct of fear immediately makes them shifty around touching any of the spheres again.

The small amount of soul absorbed gives the one sphere a dull glow, then dulls it down to nothingness again. Perhaps it needs larger quantities of soul to absorb to keep lit, but the poor soul doesn't understand the implications of that, nor do they now want to.

Besides, the place feels abandoned, anyway. Rather eerie, really.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

What will you do now?

|:| Inspect other Altars <<
|:| Inspect Miscellaneous Surroundings <<

Inspect misc. surroundings.

And try to remember the song.

...Song?

Was there a

inspect other altars, guess we start looting.

Inspect misc. surroundings

>>607837
what the hell are you going on about?

|| |:| Inspect other Altars << ||
|| |:| Inspect Miscellaneous Surroundings ||

There are twenty other altars in salvageable condition to inspect, and this soul doesn't feel comfortable staying around this one when they have few to no supplies to make something of themselves.

They decide to look over the others. Twenty statues. Twenty gods. All missing under mysterious circumstance. The echoes of the past that unclearly ring here almost suggest arguments beforehand, but somehow, that doesn't feel right. What would push the gods away?

It matters none. The soul decides to inspect the other altars, though it cannot visualize them clearly.

Counter-clockwise, from the broken twenty-first statue they had chosen, they go as follows.

A figure broken at the legs, whose statue of modeled clay lay crippled as but a torso upon their altar. There looks to have been a mane of brush and grass added to the effigy before, but it is all but burned now. There are crafting materials on the altar, and an eye of Emerald looks back from the woeful socket of the statue's gaze. One can barely see teats, half-covered by animal fur and tasseled beads.

Two figures have partially crumbled against eachother, almost a last effort of support. Both are blindfolded, but one bears a six-platform scale, and the other bears what looks to be a double-ended blade. The weapon of the latter looks to have impaled the statue on partial fall, and both have lost their long, plumed tails of ivory and tied rope. There are jugs of milk, three half spilled, and offerings of stale food on platters.

Three statues of raw cavern stone and precious gemstones all look to have been robbed blind, at best. One of them had an arm clubbed off, and most of the gems from the legs and altar stolen, the second one gives a single-eyed scream, as if declaring right of birth, or right of property, and the other reaches for their altar like a wounded mother, eyes of diamond shining where a mouth of ruined oil flows, where once there was carved pearl teeth. All three look to have been based on simians, and all three bear various strange minerals. Most valuable items have been stolen already.

Four smaller statues had been thrown about, away from their pillars, but you could guess the four avian statues belonged to the altars of sharp farming tools, heavy swords, and burning bone offerings.

There's a great beastly statue, of a bald head and long frills along the elongated neck, of which is broken into the fountain in a branching hallway. Someone particularly disliked that half-reptile deity, it seemed, because the break is clean, like a cut. A glare of burning coals sears the soul, and the altar seems to only have a mysterious set of boxes on top, all in neat rows.

The others are unclear, too tall to see clearly, but their altars bear similar fruits, from fruits and vegetables to painted bowls, and an offered crate full of ashes and plucked feathers.

And rotting meat sits on one of them. A set of silks sits on the most precious altar, but there's a lot of debris around that statue, the soul cannot recognize it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

What Altar will you inspect first?

take the silk and place it as a garment on the statue you are using.

inspect surroundings seems like an idea, maybe that dark fluid?

Chocomaca 2014/12/02(Tue)13:51 No. 607880 ID: 1c677c
File 141755708007.png - (572.56KB , 500x576 , god_statues.png )

It's hard to see, but I try!

Choose the altar below the clay statue with an eye of Emerald.

The Clay Statue of Emerald eye comes first, of course.

The soul approaches the gigantic canine, whose gnarled teeth and terrible claw care seem to pin it as a primitive sort, but the gaze the emerald bestows instead marks wisdom. There looks to have once been eight ears, where the stumps on the head are - or maybe they were horns? - but it matters none, as they're only broken bits now. Little nubs of clay and stone.

The || EMERALD EYE || looks to be a good item for vessel alchemization, and there are seven different pieces of || HANDMADE BEADED JEWELRY || on the altar surface. There is also a large serving of overcooked || PORCINE CUTS ||, which looks to be untouched by the contagion. There is also an || OCARINA || on a special stand in the upper right corner of the altar.

The soul takes || 3 PORCINE CUTS ||, || THE OCARINA ||, and one || HANDMADE BEAD BRACELET ||. They consider leaving the || EMERALD EYE || in, for respect, but it could prove useful in the altar rites.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

What will you do?

|:| Take Emerald Eye, leave behind Beaded Bracelet <<
|:| Leave Emerald Eye, take Handful of Burning Bush instead <<

|| Disclaimer |:| We also thank you for remembering the disclaimer on your artistic contributions! Adding art to help your hero visualize the world and folks around them is of significant help to them, and it helps liven up the story, no matter how it's told!

We thank you for listening to the rules! As a bonus, you will get an extra free item to start with when your character fully awakens for the story! Keep up good behavior, catch easter eggs, and even find ways to cheat the system and surprise your author, and you may find more goodies in later progress!

Keep up the good work! ||

|| @Author |:| HOW can you resize images without losing the pixel edges? ||

|| @Chocomaca - I am absolutely unsure! Perhaps you should ask some of the artists in the Draw section for help? They seem like the folks who would have good advice for that! Good luck with it, though! ||

|| And another Disclaimer |:| The characters will also occasionally show some semblance of control-absent sentience! This means that if folks make ridiculous recommendations or start derailing topic too much, they'll begin making decisions on their own! Don't let them get too sentient, later, folks! ||

Once upon a time, there was a gemstone in a slum. The mystery... was that it was UNCLAIMED.

For years, the gangs of the slum fought over the jewel. Most were wise enough not to fight over a single gemstone, but for some, the legend of the gem grew with each passing year - stories about how entire squads mutually annihilated each other trying to capture the gem as if it were a flag, only for the gem to end up exactly in the socket that it was grabbed from. No other gemstone could match this level of legend, and the gangs knew that the one to successfully capture the gem and sell it for a small sum would be given a name in the slum's urban legends. Suckers kept fighting, and somehow, the gem was sometimes pilfered from its socket only to always return at the end of the fight.

Then, one day, while a few gangs were fighting over the stupid gemstone, it fell into a small well. Over the years, it was tempered by the slowly trickling waters of the caverns into a magnificently shining gem, cut to near-perfection and more interesting than a perfect gem. Then, by some amazing coincidence, it found its way into a magical land filled with

Five years later, a treasure hunter scooped up the gem while pocketing sweet loot and it got sold and scraped like any other piece of jewelry. (Insulting alternate ending: and used as a jewel drill until one day it cracked.)

Moral of the story: If it is foreign or rare, it is valuable. If it is pretty and useful, it is still valuable but NOT TREASURED.

...is that a good story? Basically, leave the gemstone there. It's probably more important to that statue than all the other offerings combined, if only because its rarity makes it treasured.

take the eye and leave the bracelet. would perhaps give us better sight.

>>607956
why the HELL do you keep writing stories in this quest?

>>607967
BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT THE DISCLAIMER SAID.

"|| Disclaimer |:| This adventure is purely fueled by text, music, and your artistic contributions! Giving vivid or vague descriptions and fitting or off-putting tunes to give you your hints for potential questing, it will be your job, not the Author's, to illustrate the world around your charge."

I'm illustrating the setting and lore with my words. Alright?

Oh, and suggestion for the spirit:

Take your inventory items. Arrange them into a ritual circle. Contemplate the design and what caused you to arrange it in such a way.

>>607972
fine. then it's an crappy incoherent mess of a story. what the hell is it even saying? it's like 3 different stories at the same time. and all of them are only partially complete.

>>607972 I think we may have to defer to Ghostwriter as to whether or not that is the kind of suggestion/lore submission they're looking for in this quest.

However unless an author asks for it, I'm not sure they would appreciate generating your own lore or characters and trying to insert it into the story. (Specifically, I'm referring to your post in the Empirequest thread)

Nay. The Emerald eye is for that god, wherever that god may be now.
An emblem of someone else, worn by the unworthy will be a weight far to great to bear, and taking that eye while the god is down is no way to claim such a treasure.
All those gangs in their hubris thought they could claim it. The truth was not even the greatest of them was ever worthy, for none of them were there to see the god who's eye they sought, much less challenge him for it.

|| ... Disclaimer |:| The Author tells the story, and for your characters to see properly what they're being thrown into, the readers contribute artwork. ||

|| I... I thought I discussed this. Was I unclear? ||

|| Disclaimer |:| The Author apologizes for being unclear about Quest intentions, but the point of the story that, while the author entirely bases it in text, the readers contribute art to their surroundings and characters so their little heroes don't go in as blind as pure text would make them.

The Author apologizes very profusely for the confusion, but rest assured, I know what I'm doing here. While I appreciate the eagerness from folks, inserting sudden new lore will confuse absolutely everything. ||

>>607983
>>607985
it happens in almost every quest. something that sounds obvious to the author is not always obvious to the readers. don't worry about it.

The soul decides, out of deeply inlaid respect, to leave the eye in place. Instead, they take a || BUNDLE OF BURNT BUSH MATERIAL ||, in hopes it will act for sufficient replacement in ritual. They feel that, in the long run, the god in question will be thankful to come back with their good eye, if they come back at all.

They hoped they would come back. They missed them already.

While perusing the other altars, some respectful looting is laid, and more items are taken into embrace for altar use. As they approached the last altar, which sat evenly as the tenth altar in the circle, they paused.

This altar used to be a throne. It looks like, in fact, the altar itself was meant to be a table for tea, not a setting for offerings. Behind it, a number of plush cushions of varying colors and soft textures unclassified by the universe so young before them lay arranged, almost like a nest. An || ORNATELY DESIGNED LUXURY SMOKING DEVICE || lay broken and lonesome among the torn pillows, the tattered sheets almost protecting the item of ivory and sapphire, among other now useless tools, such as a || BROKEN HAND BELL || and a pair of || FRAMED SIGHT CRYSTALS ||.

The tea table itself, hardly even an altar, is tipped over on its side. Most of the set is in too many pieces to identify as proper dishware, while others seemed to have been scattered to the gigantic chasm along the right foyer exit, where the first hallway further inside would lead.

The soul nearly contemplates investigating the chasm, but deeply rooted fear advises against it.

They admire the forlorn foyer in silence before the sound came in. Different echoes, unclear, but familiar, sharpened near different statues, from the winded instrumental of the Clay God, down to the swinging steel and sizzling steaks of the Gemstone Gods. In front of the main throne, and the humble little tea table, however, a much more depressing sound was only made clear.

Ringing. The rare ringing of bells, that which usually signified the communicative manner all souls used and understood, accented by a humming note. Funny enough, they almost understood it...

It just made the foyer feel lonelier, for some reason. But the soul soon dismissed such, and respectfully, took only three items.

The " plundering " of the altars is done. Instinct tells them they now have enough for ritual rite. The only issue they have is they don't know how to finish it off. Seal their fate, so to speak.

They hoped it didn't involve the siphoning spheres at that other altar. But perhaps they'd be sorely mistaken.

They'd best get their items sorted and set up, then, shouldn't they?

it would need to be brought to the altar we wish to use, perhaps hold them such that they rest on the statue if it was whole?

|| |:| Confirm Inventory and Set up Original Statue for Rite << ||

The soul decides to check over their items for confirmation before getting down to business.

|| |:| 1 HANDMADE BEADED BRACELET ||
|| |:| 1 HALF-EMPTY JUG OF MILK ||
|| |:| 1 BUNDLE OF BURNT BUSH ||
|| |:| 1 SILK SCARF ||
|| |:| 3 PORCINE CUTS ||
|| |:| 1 DUSTY OCARINA ||
|| |:| 1 HOOKAH ||
|| |:| 1 PAIR OF FANCY BROKEN GLASSES ||
|| |:| 2 INTACT BOWLS ||
|| |:| 1 BROKEN PLATTER ||
|| |:| 1 BROKEN, BUT POSSIBLY USEFUL, DAGGER ||

This is enough, at least, for one good ritual. They pray that their instinct serves them true.

They return to the altar of their original choice. Should they have chosen to take after a godly image, they would've had a set race to funnel their existence into, but as they've chosen their own path, they'll have to take their chance with fate. And fate was unkind to them all, up until now. Perhaps this soul will find mercy.

The Altar table is only useful for the siphoning spheres, so the items will, for the most par,t have to be set around the broken altar, or upon the statue.

The bowls and platter are set down first, the bowls mirroring their other on left and right sides, while the platter is settled back together at the cracks in front of the altar. The rest of the items are taken from their place where they've been set down, and applied accordingly: The most of the burnt bush material makes for a good false chest, in place of the broken cavity, while the rest of the bush material is set around the edge of the platter in a ring. The silk scarf is, instead, wrapped gently around the waist of the statue, both to give a fuller look, and to keep the burnt bush material from falling mid-rite. The beaded bracelet is draped over one of the wrist areas that seemed to be weakening, also to give a sense of completion. The three pig cuts are laid within the ring of burnt bush material, and the material is rearranged around them accordingly.

The milk is then poured into one of the bowls, while the other bowl is laid with the ocarina inside. Using the broken dagger handle, the ocarina is, instead of used as it cannot be, broken down, and ground into powder. The glasses, instead of being laid upon the statue or with any of the items, are kept close. For some reason, they don't feel like abandoning the glasses. They feel important.

Taking one of the fallen bulbs from nearby, the soul begins to resonate, to ring in their universal language while the bulb is squeezed dry of the luminescent fluid inside over the burnt bush material. It lights up in flame, easily consuming the dried pork cuts. Whatever is left of the bulb is then stuffed into the heart of the makeshift chest, where it begins to burn the rest of the material.

Their attention draws back to the dagger. To the siphoning spheres.

This isn't going to feel good. But they're ready.

You're ready.

You hope.

You'd best get used to referring to yourself in this perspective, because you're not going to be a collective entity anymore. You're going to become a singularity. A loner. A wanderer in the woods. You will not have the distant echoes of the past, or the echoes of your kin, to help you. Just your own.

You're quite sure you won't remember any of this when you come to be. But you expected nothing better.

The sharp end of the dagger is drawn up, and, of little hesitation, drawn in. There's a flare of light, a flash of colors crisp and clean. You process pain in it's rawest universal form. You scream. Obviously, nobody hears.

Keeping the uncomfortably high pitched ringing down as well as you try to, you draw the dagger back out. A long thread of yourself, thick and slimy, is pulled forth. You draw that thread over to the first sphere, where you originally set a tendril, and let the end of the thread detach from the blade to rest there.

This leads you to uncomfortably taking the blade in again. You feel the pull from the first sphere once more, but it stops you none from drawing another thick thread of yourself to the second sphere. You feel a lot more pulling. A lot more than you expected. The sounds are louder, now. Clearer.

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" - re you! How DARE you! Do you even kn - "
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- OW, that is SIGNIFICANTLY more painful than you remember it being! Still, despite the crack in your shrieking sound, your siren song, you draw the blade in again.

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"... it's ridiculous, isn't it? Come on, I know you want to laugh! How can a god ever stand to be seen with... "
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... their glasses. You still have their glasses. You draw them in, you hold them as closely to you as you can for support. You can't forget the glasses.

The third sphere has a tendril attached. You feel like you're drowning. Drowning in a room hotter than any -

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" - sauna! You built me a sauna! Oh g'losh, oh g'losh, you're - "
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- in PAIN, in so, so much pain, you're in -

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" - SO much trouble when I get my hands on you! Do you hear me, you two?! You're going to be in so! MUCH -
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- trouble getting the last thread connected. You can hardly keep the dagger -

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" Suspended. I'm afraid I'll have to suspend you from the academy until further notice, children. I'm -
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" - going to KILL you when I catch you! I'll kill you both! I'll gut you and grind your nuts for n - "
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- o, no, no, you can make it, you just have to -

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" - Pick up the pace, you sore sand dollar! What are you, Saturn's pet snail? We're almost - "
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- There! You're almost - ...




...Al..





.mo






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" There~ "

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|| End of Prologue ||

|| Chapter 1, Coming Shortly... ||