Demon Game for Sophie

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<><<set $Manifest = 2>> <<set $Overpower = 1>> <<set $Beguile = 1>> <<set $Obscure = 1>> <<set $Goods = 0>> <<set $Suspicion = 0>> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "start" time 0>><<audio "start" play>><</timed>> <> It is a place of extremes. That is the only thing which can be said with any certainty, any consistency, about this place you could call home, if ‘home’ wasn’t something you were eternally denied. Manifest nightmare. A lake of fire, a brimstone pyre, the smoke thrown out by acts of eternal, never-resting torments reaching up and out into eternity. Rivers of blood, non-euclidean corridors, bodily fluids leaking from walls of mashed genital-shaped flesh. One man said it best: All hope abandon, ye who enter here. In this place of myth, this allegorical realm, this world conjured and fuelled by the spiritual waste of man, this very real threat beneath the earth, you are pushed from dark waters. Four figures await you. A blue-robed [[spoonbill]]. A red-skinned, yellow-horned, black clawed, brass pitchfork-wielding [[imp]]. A [[man]], his wavy blonde hair falling over immaculate white robes, his halo pitch black and dripping blood, blood which evaporates with a hiss when it falls upon his almost glowing shoulders, leaving no mark. And the [[darkness]] of night, a hole in the shape of both dream and nightmare. They each beckon to you, the forming thing from the pool. <<if $HoH is true>> It is a place of extremes. That is the only thing which can be said with any certainty, any consistency, about this place you could call home, if ‘home’ wasn’t something you were eternally denied. Manifest nightmare. A lake of fire, a brimstone pyre, the smoke thrown out by acts of eternal, never-resting torments reaching up and out into eternity. Rivers of blood, non-euclidean corridors, bodily fluids leaking from walls of mashed genital-shaped flesh. One man said it best: All hope abandon, ye who enter here. In this place of myth, this allegorical realm, this world conjured and fuelled by the spiritual waste of man, this very real threat beneath the earth, you are pushed from dark waters. Four figures await you. A blue-robed spoonbill. A red-skinned, yellow-horned, black clawed, brass pitchfork-wielding imp. A man, his wavy blonde hair falling over immaculate white robes, his halo pitch black and dripping blood, blood which evaporates with a hiss when it falls upon his almost glowing shoulders, leaving no mark. And the darkness of night, a hole in the shape of both dream and nightmare. They each beckon to you, the forming thing from the pool. <</if>>

<<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 8>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "spoonbill" time 0>><<audio "spoonbill" play>><</timed>> The spoonbill takes your hand. Or: as it reaches out, it crafts for you a hand, which it then takes. It narrates your matter into existence and as it does it tells you of this and that, of the ways of being and the things you could and can and will and won’t be. You note it all down on your parchment skin and after a hundred hundred years the ink lies on your body as a thick hide and the spoonbill speaks: "You are real." And, for the first time, with lungs and vocal cords and throat of flesh and fire you reply. "Yes." Your Manifest is now $Manifest <<timed 36s>><<audio "horses" time 0>><<audio "horses" play>><</timed>>There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The [[human with a white coat]] strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The [[red human]] struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The [[black furred human]] can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The [[last human, sickly pale]], carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <<if $HoH is true>> The spoonbill takes your hand. Or: as it reaches out, it crafts for you a hand, which it then takes. It narrates your matter into existence and as it does it tells you of this and that, of the ways of being and the things you could and can and will and won’t be. You note it all down on your parchment skin and after a hundred hundred years the ink lies on your body as a thick hide and the spoonbill speaks: "You are real." And, for the first time, with lungs and vocal cords and throat of flesh and fire you reply. "Yes." There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The human with a white coat strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The red human struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The black furred human can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The last human, sickly pale, carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <</if>>

<<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 4>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "imp" time 0>><<audio "imp" play>><</timed>> The imp pulls you from the muck of un-creation and stabs you with its pitchfork. Unformed as you are, you have no mouth, so, as we all know, you cannot scream. It rakes you with its claws where there would be skin, it gouges where you could have eyes with its horns. It beats and scrapes and abuses until you find that you cannot take it. After a hundred hundred years, you know you are no mortal, you know it is not your place to suffer this. So you manifest yourself. Claw meets claw, horn meets horn. Teeth first, then the jaws to move them and the lips which part to allow them access to the wiry muscles of your adversary. You stand above the imp, blood dripping from the edges you pushed into existence. It nods from where it lies. Your Overpower is now $Overpower <<timed 47s>><<audio "horses" time 0>><<audio "horses" play>><</timed>>There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The [[human with a white coat]] strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The [[red human]] struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The [[black furred human]] can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The [[last human, sickly pale]], carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <<if $HoH is true>> The imp pulls you from the muck of un-creation and stabs you with its pitchfork. Unformed as you are, you have no mouth, so, as we all know, you cannot scream. It rakes you with its claws where there would be skin, it gouges where you could have eyes with its horns. It beats and scrapes and abuses until you find that you cannot take it. After a hundred hundred years, you know you are no mortal, you know it is not your place to suffer this. So you manifest yourself. Claw meets claw, horn meets horn. Teeth first, then the jaws to move them and the lips which part to allow them access to the wiry muscles of your adversary. You stand above the imp, blood dripping from the edges you pushed into existence. It nods from where it lies. There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The human with a white coat strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The red human struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The black furred human can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The last human, sickly pale, carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <</if>>

<<set $Beguile = $Beguile + 4>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "man" time 0>><<audio "man" play>><</timed>> The man takes your formlessness and pulls out long, pointed ears. He whispers to you, of golden palaces in the clouds, of a fall, of apples and serpents and whores and beasts and wolves draped in the hides of a lamb. He whispers of three temptations avoided and seven sins indulged again and again and again. As his words brush against your ear you feel skin push, pull, shining teeth and quick tongue pushing against thin smiling lips. He whispers until you whisper back in a syrup-smooth voice. "You are ready" he tells you with a kiss. Your Beguile is now $Beguile <<timed 37s>><<audio "horses" time 0>><<audio "horses" play>><</timed>>There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The [[human with a white coat]] strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The [[red human]] struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The [[black furred human]] can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The [[last human, sickly pale]], carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <<if $HoH is true>> The man takes your formlessness and pulls out long, pointed ears. He whispers to you, of golden palaces in the clouds, of a fall, of apples and serpents and whores and beasts and wolves draped in the hides of a lamb. He whispers of three temptations avoided and seven sins indulged again and again and again. As his words brush against your ear you feel skin push, pull, shining teeth and quick tongue pushing against thin smiling lips. He whispers until you whisper back in a syrup-smooth voice. "You are ready" he tells you with a kiss. There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The human with a white coat strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The red human struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The black furred human can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The last human, sickly pale, carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <</if>>

<<set $Obscure = $Obscure + 4>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "darkness" time 0>><<audio "darkness" play>><</timed>> The darkness of night whispers thoughts of threat, of murder, of cover and safety, of satisfaction, of quiet power. It takes your formlessness and takes away its weaknesses. It wraps you in its being, it pulls you into itself so that you see by the light of stars and come to know the dangers of the spaces between shadows. You learn how to plant the seeds that are secrets. You become one with the hopes which march boldly and blindly into the unknown, the worries of the cliff edge, the thoughts all fear they are the only ones to have when the candle gutters and for a moment anything seems possible. And then you are birthed into the light and you know it is not your place. But when you blink away your blindness you turn and see the darkness waiting for you. It will always be there. There will always be a place where you are real. Your Obscure is now $Obscure <<timed 53s>><<audio "horses" time 0>><<audio "horses" play>><</timed>>There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The [[human with a white coat]] strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The [[red human]] struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The [[black furred human]] can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The [[last human, sickly pale]], carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <<if $HoH is true>> The darkness of night whispers thoughts of threat, of murder, of cover and safety, of satisfaction, of quiet power. It takes your formlessness and takes away its weaknesses. It wraps you in its being, it pulls you into itself so that you see by the light of stars and come to know the dangers of the spaces between shadows. You learn how to plant the seeds that are secrets. You become one with the hopes which march boldly and blindly into the unknown, the worries of the cliff edge, the thoughts all fear they are the only ones to have when the candle gutters and for a moment anything seems possible. And then you are birthed into the light and you know it is not your place. But when you blink away your blindness you turn and see the darkness waiting for you. It will always be there. There will always be a place where you are real. There is a great boom, a clash of thunder played in reverse. You hear a slapping sound, heavy and laboured. Then another boom, more of the wet, fleshy slaps, and again, and again. Then a figure crests a hill, followed by three more in turn. Four humans walk on bent hands and knees, straining to support the weight of the horses riding on their backs. The horses are naked flesh while the humans are furred. The human with a white coat strains under the weight of a horse wielding a hunting bow and wearing a crown upon its naked head. The red human struggles forward as the horse on its back waves a great sword dripping with clotted blood. The black furred human can barely move under the weight of a fat horse, which almost topples off their back as it animalistically eats wheat and barley off one side of a set of brass weighing scales and laps a greasy mixture of oil and wine off another. The last human, sickly pale, carries a horse with sunken features and the whole realm around you seems to pull towards it. ‘We must all be ready to face the enemy’, you know, ‘but which one shall you prepare to face?’ <</if>>

<<set $Obscure = $Obscure + 3>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "white_human" time 0>><<audio "white_human" play>><</timed>> You step forward and the man-who-acts-as-steed tells you secrets in a lung-crushed whisper. It tells you of how to separate, how to subvert, how to sow the seeds of dissent. You learn how division topples empires, how greed for power or justice or freedom corrodes, how a whisper in the right ear is better than any weapon. And when you have listened you disappear into the darkness, so that when the hand reaches out and knocks the crown from the head of the horse-who-acts-as-rider, no-one knows that it is yours. Your Obscure is now $Obscure <<timed 33s>><<audio "gallery" time 0>><<audio "gallery" play>><</timed>>The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the [[crying child]]? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, [[grasping hands]]? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, [[the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh]]? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the [[endless ice]], or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <<if $HoH is true>> You step forward and the man-who-acts-as-steed tells you secrets in a lung-crushed whisper. It tells you of how to separate, how to subvert, how to sow the seeds of dissent. You learn how division topples empires, how greed for power or justice or freedom corrodes, how a whisper in the right ear is better than any weapon. And when you have listened you disappear into the darkness, so that when the hand reaches out and knocks the crown from the head of the horse-who-acts-as-rider, no-one knows that it is yours. The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the crying child? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, grasping hands? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the endless ice, or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <</if>>

<<set $Beguile = $Beguile + 3>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "red_human" time 0>><<audio "red_human" play>><</timed>> You turn to face the horse upon the red human steed, its sword cutting great arcs through the shimmering air. Its eyes boggle almost out of its skull, pink froth foams at the corners of its chapped lips, and a whine of fear and fury bubbles from inside its thick throat. The human it rides makes shushing noises, mutters that all will be well. And so you approach, your hand out, and tell the horse that all is well, that there is no need for fury, that all is right in the world. That aggression only hurts the aggressor And like that you calmly take its sword. And like that, all of its power is gone. Your Beguile is now $Beguile <<timed 39s>><<audio "gallery" time 0>><<audio "gallery" play>><</timed>>The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the [[crying child]]? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, [[grasping hands]]? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, [[the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh]]? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the [[endless ice]], or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <<if $HoH is true>> You turn to face the horse upon the red human steed, its sword cutting great arcs through the shimmering air. Its eyes boggle almost out of its skull, pink froth foams at the corners of its chapped lips, and a whine of fear and fury bubbles from inside its thick throat. The human it rides makes shushing noises, mutters that all will be well. And so you approach, your hand out, and tell the horse that all is well, that there is no need for fury, that all is right in the world. That aggression only hurts the aggressor And like that you calmly take its sword. And like that, all of its power is gone. The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the crying child? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, grasping hands? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the endless ice, or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <</if>>

<<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 3>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "black_human" time 0>><<audio "black_human" play>><</timed>> All you see in the human-come-steed’s face is despair. Tears roll down their face, as if all they can do about their burden is weep and gratefully snatch up those few crumbs which fall. The horse shifts from side to side, food and drink and spittle running in sticky rivers down its hide, catching in folds of skin to fester and rot. The human-come-steed teaches you by their impotence. You roar out your challenge and are rewarded with nothing but a shower of crumbs. So you leap forward and skewer the engorged creature, stabbing and biting and ripping into its bloated form until the scales are knocked from its hoof and it falls, powerless. As it always really was. Your Overpower is now $Overpower <<timed 45s>><<audio "gallery" time 0>><<audio "gallery" play>><</timed>>The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the [[crying child]]? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, [[grasping hands]]? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, [[the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh]]? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the [[endless ice]], or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <<if $HoH is true>> All you see in the human-come-steed’s face is despair. Tears roll down their face, as if all they can do about their burden is weep and gratefully snatch up those few crumbs which fall. The horse shifts from side to side, food and drink and spittle running in sticky rivers down its hide, catching in folds of skin to fester and rot. The human-come-steed teaches you by their impotence. You roar out your challenge and are rewarded with nothing but a shower of crumbs. So you leap forward and skewer the engorged creature, stabbing and biting and ripping into its bloated form until the scales are knocked from its hoof and it falls, powerless. As it always really was. The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the crying child? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, grasping hands? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the endless ice, or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <</if>>

<<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 6>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "pale_human" time 0>><<audio "pale_human" play>><</timed>> You approach the final pair, the manifestations of contradiction: transience and eternity; stillness and inevitability; decay and revolution. You look to the human-made-steed. In its voice, a rasping whisper and a strident boom, of ‘sure fire’ methods, ‘guaranteed’ tricks, ‘miracles’, fountains and grails and creams. It is maddening, until you realise that there is only one thing you can do. You can endure. Because you are not a creature. You are a ripple. A thought. An immortal. Until the final judgement. And so you do what all eventually do, when they find that all else has failed, as it always does. You stand. And that is good enough. Your Manifest is now $Manifest <<timed 50s>><<audio "gallery" time 0>><<audio "gallery" play>><</timed>>The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the [[crying child]]? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, [[grasping hands]]? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, [[the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh]]? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the [[endless ice]], or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <<if $HoH is true>> You approach the final pair, the manifestations of contradiction: transience and eternity; stillness and inevitability; decay and revolution. You look to the human-made-steed. In its voice, a rasping whisper and a strident boom, of ‘sure fire’ methods, ‘guaranteed’ tricks, ‘miracles’, fountains and grails and creams. It is maddening, until you realise that there is only one thing you can do. You can endure. Because you are not a creature. You are a ripple. A thought. An immortal. Until the final judgement. And so you do what all eventually do, when they find that all else has failed, as it always does. You stand. And that is good enough. The Master – who appears however you imagine he appears - is pleased. He leads you to his private gallery, and shows you four pieces. "A tiny fraction," he says, "a very narrow sample of my holdings. "But we are not here to speak of me. Who are you? In which do you see yourself?" He gestures. Do you see yourself in the crying child? The young boy, his hair tousled, tears running down his rounded cheeks? The smell of fire. What of the other child? The one standing with his eyeless doll, before the glass door beyond which is nothing but blackness and countless pressing, reaching, grasping hands? The haze of a nightmare. What of the screaming man, his face too round, his eyes too black, the man with skin the blotchy red of fresh flayed flesh? A back of the neck prickle of being watched. Or are you somewhere in the endless ice, or under the fallen mast, or the white beasts gorging themselves on the frozen flesh you know is there but which you cannot see? The heavy weight of dread. <</if>>

<<if not tags().includes("omit")>> Manifest: $Manifest Overpower: $Overpower Beguile: $Beguile Obscure: $Obscure<</if>> Options: <<button "—">><<if $Volume == 0>><<else>><<set $Volume to $Volume - 0.1>><<masteraudio volume $Volume>><</if>><</button>><<button $PauseButton>><<if $Paused is true>><<audio ":paused" play>><<set $Paused to false>><<set $PauseButton to "❚❚">><<else>><<audio ":playing" pause>><<set $Paused to true>><<set $PauseButton to "▶︎">><</if>><<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>><</button>><<button "✚">><<if $Volume == 1>><<else>><<set $Volume to $Volume + 0.1>><<masteraudio volume $Volume>><</if>><</button>> <<button "Toggle black on white mode.">><<toggleclass 'body' 'black-on-white'>><<if $Accessible is not "Black-on-white">><<set $Accessible to "Black-on-white">><<else>><<set $Accessible to "">><</if>><</button>> <<button "Toggle white on black mode.">><<toggleclass 'body' 'white-on-black'>><<if $Accessible is not "White-on-black">><<set $Accessible to "White-on-black">><<else>><<set $Accessible to "">><</if>><</button>> <<button "Toggle large font mode.">><<toggleclass 'body' 'large'>><<if $FontSize is not "Large">><<set $FontSize to "Large">><<else>><<set $FontSize to "">><</if>><</button>> <<button "Toggle sans-serif font mode.">><<toggleclass 'body' 'easy'>><<if $FontType is not "Easy">><<set $FontType to "Easy">><<else>><<set $FontType to "">><</if>><</button>> <<if $HoH is false>><<button "Turn on hard of hearing mode.">><<dialog "">>It is only recommended that you use this mode if you really cannot hear or understand the dialogue. <<button "Turn on on hard of hearing mode.">><<set $HoH to true>><<dialog "">>The spoken text will display under the written text from the next scene onwards.<</dialog>><</button>> <<button "Close">><<dialogclose>><</button>><</dialog>><</button>><<else>><<button "Turn off hard of hearing mode.">><<set $HoH to false>><<dialog "">>The spoken text will disappear from the next scene onwards.<</dialog>><</button>><</if>> <div style="text-align: left; color: white;">Notes:</div> <<textarea "$Notes" $Notes>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "where_to_go" time 0>><<audio "where_to_go" play>> <</timed>> <> You lurk in the darkness of the forest and as you do you take your first opportunity to do something your kind can only do here, in what we call ‘reality’. You feel. You feel a pull, a snagging on your being. A yearning within what you would call a soul, if you could be said to have one. It is pulling you in a direction, somewhere not far from where you are, [[a cabin in the woods]]. You feel it would be wise to go. On the other hand, you know, rather than feel, that the Master, or those dead mortals who summoned you, implanted knowledge within your mind. You know there is a town and in that town there is a castle and in that castle is the Archpatriarch you seek. And you know how to [[get to the town]]. You could simply go straight there, if you feel confident already. <<if $HoH is true>> You lurk in the darkness of the forest and as you do you take your first opportunity to do something your kind can only do here, in what we call ‘reality’. You feel. You feel a pull, a snagging on your being. A yearning within what you would call a soul, if you could be said to have one. It is pulling you in a direction, somewhere not far from where you are, a cabin in the woods. You feel it would be wise to go. On the other hand, you know, rather than feel, that the Master, or those dead mortals who summoned you, implanted knowledge within your mind. You know there is a town and in that town there is a castle and in that castle is the Archpatriarch you seek. And you know how to get to the town. You could simply go straight there, if you feel confident already. <</if>>

Rolling Manifest... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Manifest + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 19>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "crossbow_hit_SUC" time 0>><<audio "crossbow_hit_SUC" play>>… bounces off your tough hide, not even leaving a scratch behind. Your infernal power quickly takes you out of sight of the human and while you can hear her frantically searching for you through the darkness of the woods, you know you are free. Now you must decide [[where to go next.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>… the bolt finds its mark and sinks into your flesh. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<audio "crossbow_hit_FAI" time 0>><<audio "crossbow_hit_FAI" play>>You push the wood and metal from your hide, which twists and morphs around the hole, leaving a spiral pattern like a knot of wood. Your connection to this plane has been reduced. Your infernal power quickly takes you out of sight of the human and while you can hear her frantically searching for you through the darkness of the woods, you know you are free. Now you must decide [[where to go next.]]<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 19>>… bounces off your tough hide, not even leaving a scratch behind. Your infernal power quickly takes you out of sight of the human and while you can hear her frantically searching for you through the darkness of the woods, you know you are free. Now you must decide where to go next.<<else>> … the bolt finds its mark and sinks into your flesh. You push the wood and metal from your hide, which twists and morphs around the hole, leaving a spiral pattern like a knot of wood. Your connection to this plane has been reduced. Your infernal power quickly takes you out of sight of the human and while you can hear her frantically searching for you through the darkness of the woods, you know you are free. Now you must decide where to go next.<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<set $Manifest = $StartingManifest>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "embrace_nothingness_1" time 0>><<audio "embrace_nothingness_1" play>><</timed>>You hear the master’s voice: "You are a disappointment." You see nothing, but feel your dark home tug at you. "But I have invested too much already. "I shall give you back what you had when you left my domain. And I shall give you a second chance at your most recent mistake. "Do not return until you have done what I sent you to do." <<return>><<elseif visited() is 2>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "embrace_nothingness_2" time 0>><<audio "embrace_nothingness_2" play>><</timed>><<set $Manifest = $StartingManifest>><<set $Manifest = $StartingManifest>>There is silence for a long time, then a sigh like the movement of continents. "I told you not to return. "I shall give you what I gave you last time. Because it is far too late to change course now. "But I owe you no more after this. "Go. Fulfil the task for which you were awoken." <<return>><<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "embrace_nothingness_3" time 0>><<audio "embrace_nothingness_3" play>><</timed>><<set $Manifest = $StartingManifest>> <<return "Continue playing.">> <<link "Admit defeat.">> <<run Engine.restart()>> <</link>><</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>"You are a disappointment." You see nothing, but feel your dark home tug at you. "But I have invested too much already. "I shall give you back what you had when you left my domain. And I shall give you a second chance at your most recent mistake. "Do not return until you have done what I sent you to do."<<elseif visited() is 2>>[Deep sigh.] "I told you not to return. "I shall give you what I gave you last time. Because it is far too late to change course now. "But I owe you no more after this. "Go. Fulfil the task for which you were awoken."<<else>>[Sigh] I don’t know. You see, this could be my fuck up. I want to think that it’s yours, not that I think anything at all because I’ve no idea who ‘you’ are or if there ever even will be a ‘you’ listening to this. But I also worry that there’s a chance I’ve balanced this wrong, or explained it wrong, or just put in a bug somewhere that just kills you. I don’t know. So here’s an out. You’re already on the bad ending, it can’t get worse. So in the spirit of agreeing that Souls games probably should have difficulty settings, you can keep playing, same as before. But you can also know that you failed. Or I failed. I don’t know. It’s up to you. And if you die again you’ll get this again. Just play till you win if you want. I’d turn off achievements at this point but I don’t fucking have any. Fuck it. Ship it.<</if>> <</if>>

The guard<<dispstats $guard>> stands in the middle of the road as the caravan driver quickly hurries away. What do you do? [[Careful attack|CA: guard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: guard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: guard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: guard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.

<<ferocious $guard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $guard.Status is "Dead">>The guard collapses to the ground, completely dead and you are free to enter [[the town]].<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $guard>> sweats in the moonlight, terrified but readying for the next strike. [[Careful attack|CA: guard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: guard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: guard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: guard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage. <</if>><</timed>>

<<careful $guard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $guard.Status is "Dead">>The guard collapses to the ground, completely dead and you are free to enter [[the town]].<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $guard>> sweats in the moonlight, terrified but readying for the next strike. [[Careful attack|CA: guard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: guard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: guard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: guard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage. <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $guard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $guard>> smiles shyly, but behind that you can see the terror in his eyes. He will not stop until this is over, so neither can you. [[Careful attack|CA: guard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: guard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: guard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: guard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<widget "initiate">><> <<if $HR>><<set $HRC to true>><</if>> <<if $SR>><<set $SRC to true>><</if>> <<if $BR>><<set $BRC to true>><</if>> <><</widget>> <<widget "ferocious">><> <<set _enemy = $args[0]>> <<set $Roll1 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $Roll2 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $Roll3 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $Roll4 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $FFRoll = Math.min($Roll1, $Roll2, $Roll3, $Roll4)>> <<if $Prepped>><<set $PA = $FFRoll + $Overpower + $Obscure>><<else>><<set $PA = $FFRoll + $Overpower>><</if>> <<set $PD = Math.floor($PA/2)>> <<set _enemy.Health = _enemy.Health - $PD>> <<if _enemy.Health < 1>><<set $Dead to true>><<set _enemy.Status to "Dead">><<else>><<set $Dead to false>><</if>> <<set $args[0] = _enemy>> <<set $Prepped to false>> <<set $EV = random(1, 10) + _enemy.Guard>> <<if $EV < 2 * _enemy.Guard>><<set $EV = 2 * _enemy.Guard>><</if>> <>Rolling... <<timed 1s>><<if $Dead>><<elseif $PA > $EV>>You deal a shocking blow! _enemy.Name loses $PD health and is too shocked to counter attack. <<else>>You lash out, but so does your opponent. _enemy.Name loses $PD health<<if $BRC>><<set$BRC to false>>. However, their blow bounces from a hard knot of metal and you remain unscathed.<<else>> and you lose 1 Manifest. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>><</if>><</if>><</timed>><</widget>> <<widget "prepare">><> <<set _enemy = $args[0]>> <<set $PV = random(1, 10) + $Obscure>> <<set $EV = random(1, 10) + _enemy.Perception>> <>Rolling... <<timed 1s>><<if $PV > $EV>>You have calculated the perfect spot. You are ready to strike. <<set $Prepped to true>><<elseif $SRC>><<set $SRC to false>>You conceptualise a plan, but it is faulty, misguided. The shadows whisper to you just in time for you to pull back and reconsider.<<else>>As you hesitate, trying to think one step ahead, your opponent takes advantage of your moment of distraction and sneaks past your defences. <<if $BRC>><<set$BRC to false>>However, the strike bounces from a hard knot of metal and you remain unscathed.<<else>>You lose 1 Manifest. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>><</if>><</if>><</timed>><</widget>> <<widget "careful">><> <<set _enemy = $args[0]>> <<set $Roll1 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $Roll2 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $CARoll = Math.max($Roll1, $Roll2)>> <<if $Prepped>><<set $PV = $CARoll + $Overpower + $Obscure>><<else>><<set $PV = $CARoll + $Overpower>><</if>> <<set $EV = random(1, 10) + _enemy.Attack>> <<set $PA = $PV - $EV>> <<if $PA < 0>><<set $PD = 0>><<elseif $PA < 4>><<set $PD = 1>><<else>><<set $PD = 1 + Math.floor($PA/2)>><</if>> <<set _enemy.Health = _enemy.Health - $PD>> <<if _enemy.Health < 1>><<set $Dead to true>><<set _enemy.Status to "Dead">><<else>><<set $Dead to false>><</if>> <<set $args[0] = _enemy>> <<set $Prepped to false>> <>Rolling... <<timed 1s>><<if $Dead>><<elseif $PD < 1>>You try to defend yourself, but you fail. Your opponent gets past your defences. <<if $BRC>><<set$BRC to false>>However, the attack bounces from a hard knot of metal and you remain unscathed.<<else>>You lose 1 Manifest. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>><</if>><<else>>You're careful and patient, and it works out. You find your opening and you take it. _enemy.Name loses $PD health.<</if>><</timed>><</widget>> <<widget "sweettalk">><> <<set $Roll1 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $Roll2 = random(1, 10)>> <<set $STRoll = Math.max($Roll1, $Roll2)>> <<set _enemy = $args[0]>> <<set $PV = $STRoll + $Beguile>> <<set $EV = random(1, 10) + _enemy.Resistance>> <<set $SV = $PV - $EV>> <<set $attackloss = 0>> <<set $guardloss = 0>> <<set $perceptionloss = 0>> <<if _enemy.Attack is 0>> <<if _enemy.Guard <= 0 and _enemy.Perception is 0>> <<set $array = ["A", "A", "G", "P"]>> <<elseif _enemy.Guard <= 0>> <<set $array = ["P"]>> <<elseif _enemy.Perception <= 0>> <<set $array = ["G"]>> <<else>> <<set $array = ["G", "P"]>> <</if>> <<elseif _enemy.Guard <= 0>> <<if _enemy.Perception <= 0>> <<set $array = ["A"]>> <<else>> <<set $array = ["A", "A", "P"]>> <</if>> <<elseif _enemy.Perception <= 0>> <<set $array = ["A", "A", "G"]>> <<else>> <<set $array = ["A", "A", "G", "P"]>> <</if>> <<set $FV = Math.floor(($SV+1)/2)>> <>Rolling... <<timed 1.5s>><<if $SV > 0>><> <<set _enemy.Resistance = _enemy.Resistance + 1>> <<for $n to 0; $n < $FV; $n++>> <<set $talkstat = $array.random()>> <<if $talkstat is "A">><<set $attackloss = $attackloss + 1>><<elseif $talkstat is "G">><<set $guardloss = $guardloss + 1>><<elseif $talkstat is "P">><<set $perceptionloss = $perceptionloss + 1>><</if>> <</for>> <<set _enemy.Attack = _enemy.Attack - $attackloss>> <<set _enemy.Guard = _enemy.Guard - $guardloss>> <<set _enemy.Perception = _enemy.Perception - $perceptionloss>> /*<<if _enemy.Attack < 0>> <<set _enemy.Attack = 0>> <</if>> <<if _enemy.Guard < 0>> <<set _enemy.Guard = 0>> <</if>> <<if _enemy.Perception < 0>> <<set _enemy.Perception = 0>> <</if>>*/ <<set $args[0] = _enemy>><>You weave your glamour, lay down your charm, you enchant. _enemy.Name has lost $attackloss Attack, $guardloss Guard, and $perceptionloss Perception.<<elseif $HRC>><<set $HRC to false>>You speak, but feel the words twist and die on your tongue. But nature knows you now and petitions your opponent, this once, to stay their hand.<<else>><<if $BRC>><<set$BRC to false>>You begin to speak, but if your enemy even hears, they make no sign. They strike. However, their attack bounces from a hard knot of metal and you remain unscathed.<<else>>You begin to speak, but if your enemy even hears, they make no sign. They strike. You lose 1 Manifest. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<</if>><<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>><</if>><</timed>> <</widget>> <<widget "butcher">><> <<set $MR to false>> <<set _enemy = $args[0]>> <<set $TH = _enemy.Health + $Manifest>> <<set $NH = Math.floor($TH/2)>> <<set $Manifest = $NH>> <<set _enemy.Health = $NH>> <<set $args[0] = _enemy>> <><</widget>> <<widget "dispstats">><> <<set _enemy = $args[0]>> <>Health: _enemy.Health Attack: <<tozero _enemy.Attack>> Guard: <<tozero _enemy.Guard>> Perception: <<tozero _enemy.Perception>> Resistance: _enemy.Resistance<</widget>>

<<prepare $guard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $guard>> sweats in the moonlight, terrified but readying for the next strike. [[Careful attack|CA: guard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: guard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: guard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: guard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "a_cabin_in" time 0>><<audio "a_cabin_in" play>> <</timed>> <> You do not have to travel far, but you travel slowly, listening to the progress of your more and more disheartened hunters as they disappear behind you. You find the cabin, a little dwelling of wooden walls and a small stone chimney. But now that you are here, you realise that you are subtly wrong. It is not the cabin, with its twee porch light and round windows that you are seeking, but instead the woodshed beside it, a failing structure with a leaking roof and a smell of mildew. You are not surprised to find a human inside. She lies on the ground, uninjured but clearly exhausted. She looks up as you enter and again you are not surprised as she smiles. She calls you by your name and tells you she is very glad that you came. "You have an unholy purpose you must complete. I believe I have read it in my [[tarot deck]]. Your Master and I have the same goal. You must bring down the church. I can help you. "I can teach you [[how to fight]]. "Or perhaps you want to [[know more about the mortal world]]? "Maybe simply an [[explanation of what you are]]? "Or, if it is your will, you could simply [[leave]]. I am your true summoner, but I will not bind you." <<if $HoH is true>> You do not have to travel far, but you travel slowly, listening to the progress of your more and more disheartened hunters as they disappear behind you. You find the cabin, a little dwelling of wooden walls and a small stone chimney. But now that you are here, you realise that you are subtly wrong. It is not the cabin, with its twee porch light and round windows that you are seeking, but instead the woodshed beside it, a failing structure with a leaking roof ... [heavy breathing, stuttering, cough]] ... and a smell of mildew. You are not surprised to find a human inside. She lies on the ground, uninjured but clearly exhausted. She looks up as you enter and again you are not surprised as she smiles. She calls you by your name and tells you she is very glad that you came. [Pause, shakey breath, stuttering when resuming.] "You have an ... you have an ..." [Whispered:] It's okay. It's okay. " You have an unholy purpose you must complete. I believe I have read it in my cards ... tarot deck. Your Master and I have the same goal. You must bring down the church. I can help you. "I can teach you how to fight. "Or perhaps you want to know more about the mortal world? "Maybe simply an explanation of what you are? "Or, if it is your will, you could simply leave. I am your true summoner, but I will not bind you." <</if>>

<<if hasVisited("5 of cups") and hasVisited("Knight of swords") and hasVisited("Hanged man") and hasVisited("7 of pentacles") and hasVisited("Tower") and hasVisited("7 of cups") and hasVisited("Ace of wands") and hasVisited("10 of wands") and hasVisited("Queen of cups") and hasVisited("Page of cups")>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tarot_deck" time 0>><<audio "tarot_deck" play>><</timed>><</if>> <div style="line-height: 0;"><h1 style="font-size:40px;">The ten card spread:</h1> </div> <><<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 50px 140px;" src="Pictures/Cups05.webp" width="100" />' "5 of cups">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 50px 250px;" src="Pictures/Wands01.jpg" width="100" />' "Ace of wands">><</link>><> <><<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 0px;" src="Pictures/SwordsKn.jpeg" width="100" />' "Knight of swords">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 40px;" src="Pictures/hanged_man.jpg" width="100" />' "Hanged man">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 40px;" src="Pictures/Cups07.jpg" width="100" />' "7 of cups">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 110px;" src="Pictures/Wands10.jpg" width="100" />' "10 of wands">><</link>> <> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 100px;" src="Pictures/Pentacles07.jpg" width="180" />' "7 of pentacles">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 210px;" src="Pictures/CupsQ.jpg" width="100" />' "Queen of cups">><</link>> <><<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 140px;" src="Pictures/tower.jpg" width="100" />' "Tower">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 50px 250px;" src="Pictures/CupsP.jpg" width="100" />' "Page of cups">><</link>><> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if hasVisited("5 of cups") and hasVisited("Knight of swords") and hasVisited("Hanged man") and hasVisited("7 of pentacles") and hasVisited("Tower") and hasVisited("7 of cups") and hasVisited("Ace of wands") and hasVisited("10 of wands") and hasVisited("Queen of cups") and hasVisited("Page of cups")>> This is where it began. Well, it began with a late-night impulse-spend and me typing out my troubles in an online shop’s ‘more information’ textbox, but this is where it really began. She did a real reading. It was for the money,and not something she really cared about, but she actually did put in the effort. I think I’d expected something obviously copy pasted, something I could find the seams in and laugh about later. To myself. But no. I got back something real. Something real, for the first time in a long time. Well. Almost. She did the reading, but the voice note I got was from a script she wrote afterwards. Actually a lot more work, but she said she didn’t like the pressure of doing it all live. She wanted time to think about the cards, but people seemed to think it was better if she acted as if it was all coming straight to her in the moment. More organic that way. A channelling, rather than an interpretation. But she said that just led to a lot of ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ and guesses and backtracking. So she wrote her interpretation later. [Short pause, snort laugh.] Full circle. [Pause] Sophie. I didn’t even notice it at first. It didn’t seem important. [Pause.] Sophie. When I ask for a name, later, you can give that. Follow me down the rabbit hole. <</if>><</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "knight_of_swords" time 0>><<audio "knight_of_swords" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">The past</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/SwordsKn.jpeg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> The gifted child. They didn’t actually call me that. They said ‘you should apply for Oxbridge’. ‘Aren’t you so clever?’ Well guess who didn’t get into Oxbridge? I’m not really sour. I didn’t really want to go. Give them their credit, I think they could tell. It would have been a waste anyway. I would have been miserable. I wouldn’t have dropped out though. I would have stood there and told you exactly what the sunk cost fallacy was even as I was living it. Because what do you do with a degree in logic? I have one, not from Oxbridge but I got a bargain bin one, I got one and I can’t tell you that. What’s the logical formula for ‘would you like fries with that’? What’s the logical formula for ‘gifted child + time + capitalistic market based on competition = … apathy? Failure? Disappointment? I don’t know. Is it my generation or is that cope? Are all the almost thirty year olds living with their mothers or is it just the ones who still speak to me? [Little sob/snort sound.] <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_hanged_man" time 0>><<audio "the_hanged_man" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">Me</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/hanged_man.jpg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> She drew the hanged man for me. I think that’s when I knew. Or not knew … felt something. Sensed som- I don’t fucking know. I jus- I just know I don’t know a lot about tarot, but I know I like the hanged man. He looks so calm and holy and yet … he’s fucked. I can never decide if he’s dancing as the world burns around him, you know, he’s in on the grand cosmic joke or something, or if he’s just an idiot. I’ve heard that the major arcana is the story of a person’s life, the fool’s life, and the hanged man seems to be the point where everything goes to shit. You know what’s after the hanged man? What’s number thirteen? Death. There are nine more cards after that, but I don’t really feel that matters considering they’re all after death. And if you don’t count the devil, the hanged man is the last person. They’re all concepts and things after that. Nothing real. Nothing fucking real. That’s where I’m at. Hanging. I want to say something grand like ‘the hanged man is the symbol of our age’, like that’s where I think we are as a society, but let’s be honest I don’t fucking know. I’ll own it: it’s me. An idiot, waiting. Waiting for what comes next. I know what comes next. [Pause] Look at his eyes. Look at his mouth. He’s scared. <</if>>

<<set $modgrave to $grave.toLowerCase()>> <<if $modgrave.includes("seaberry")>><<goto "Seaberry">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("juliano cottor") and not hasVisited("Juliano Cottor")>><<goto "Juliano Cottor">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("juliano cottor")>>There is nothing more to find at the empty grave of Juliano Cottor. <<elseif $modgrave.includes("milo")>><<goto "Milo van Mesdag">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("author") or $modgrave.includes("narrator")>><<goto "Narrator">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("sophie")>><<goto "Sophie">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("johanna")>><<goto "Johanna">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("caroline druar") or $modgrave.includes("leon phillips")>><<goto "Chinese Room">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("fedir")>><<goto "Not yet Perished">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("nikolai borisovich") or $modgrave.includes("dariya yuriivna") or $modgrave.includes("georgy antonivich") or $modgrave.includes("agnessa petrovna") or $modgrave.includes("sergei petrovich")>><<goto "Whisperers">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("xyzzy")>><<goto "xyzzy">> <<elseif $modgrave.includes("fuck") or $modgrave.includes("cunt") or $modgrave.includes("shit") or $modgrave.includes("poo") or $modgrave.includes("pee") or $modgrave.includes("penis") or $modgrave.includes("dick") or $modgrave.includes("penis") or $modgrave.includes("piss") or $modgrave.includes("69") or $modgrave.includes("420") or $modgrave.includes("67")>><<goto "rude">> <<else>>There is no grave with the name $grave here.<</if>> [[Try again.|The cemetery.]] <<if $HoH is true>> <</if>>

<<if $EnCounter is not true>><<if $Suspicion > 2 and not hasVisited("Encounter1")>><<goto "Encounter1">><<elseif $Suspicion > 4 and not hasVisited("Encounter2")>><<goto "Encounter2">><<elseif $Suspicion > 6 and not hasVisited("Encounter3")>><<goto "Encounter3">><<elseif $Suspicion > 9 and not hasVisited("Encounter4")>><<goto "Encounter4">><</if>><<else>><<set $EnCounter to false>><</if>><> <<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_town" time 0>><<audio "the_town" play>> <</timed>><</if>> <>The town is a dark maze, a tangle of streets, a snare of civilisation. It is easy for something like you to thrive here. There are plenty of places for you to explore. It would be wise to spend time doing so. Who knows what you could find? And then, when you are ready, the castle waits. A titan of stone and glass, looming over everything else, a constant reminder to the people beneath that they are nothing but the shadow of something greater. Or at least, something determined to appear greater. Where will you go? <<if not hasVisited("Sneak across the hall and down the stairs and into the armoury.") or not hasVisited("Sneak across the hall, up the stairs, across another hall and through a locked door to the Witch Hunter Captain’s private office.") or not hasVisited("rip the page from the book and burn it?")>>[[The Witch Hunters' base.]] <</if>>[[The public places.]] <<if hasVisited("Sneak across the hall into the records room.")>>[[Private residences.]] <</if>>[[Go to the castle.]] <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>The town is a dark maze, a tangle of streets, a snare of civilisation. It is easy for something like you to thrive here. There are plenty of places for you to explore. It would be wise to spend time doing so. Who knows what you could find? And then, when you are ready, the castle waits. A titan of stone and glass, looming over everything else, a constant reminder to the people beneath that they are nothing but the shadow of something greater. Or at least, something determined to appear greater. Where will you go?<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1 and $BabyBones is not true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "seaberry_1" time 0>><<audio "seaberry_1" play>><</timed>>The Seaberry crypt is a wrong place. A place neither of this plane, nor of the above, nor of the below. Nor even a place of limbo, not in its truest sense, not in the way of the designated order. It is a place denied all things. Three graves lie as they should, their spirits sorted and filed. Claimed by one master or the other. Juliano, Agatha, Mary: they have found their eternities. But Barbara Seaberry is here. Pushing against everything in the three laws: natural, divine, and diabolic. She senses you in the same way you sense her. A force not of this world. Save that to you she is an aberration, while to her you are a threat. A law made manifest. The inevitable come to end her pain, her anguish, come to deny her need. She charges you. If you are not going to [[flee|The cemetery.]], you must [[fight|Barbara fight]].<<elseif $BabyBones is true and $barbara.Status is not "Dead">><<set $barbara.Status to "Dead">><<set $BarHoH to 2>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "seaberry_2" time 0>><<audio "seaberry_2" play>><</timed>>Before you have even fully entered, the wrongness of the place rushes at you. It physically grapples with you, ripping at you, through you, past you. To the bones. The tiny bones. It touches them. They lift from you, ripped from you with a force beyond your ability to stop... There is nothing. No final wail, no whisper of thanks, no echoing sigh. The ghost of Barbara Cottor is gone. [[Leave.|The cemetery.]] <<elseif $barbara.Status is "Dead">><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "seaberry_3" time 0>><<audio "seaberry_3" play>><</timed>>The crypt is quiet. You feel something almost like calm. It is something almost like pleasant. You don't like it. Since there is nothing else for you here, you should [[leave.|The cemetery.]]<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "seaberry_4" time 0>><<audio "seaberry_4" play>><</timed>>You return to the resting place of the Seaberrys - Juliano, Agatha, and Mary - and the haunt of the ghost of Barbara Cottor. She wails, a sound both physical and metaphysical, and rushes at you. [[Fight|Barbara fight]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1 and $BabyBones is not true>>The Seaberry crypt is a wrong place. A place neither of this plane, nor of the above, nor of the below. Nor even a place of limbo, not in its truest sense, not in the way of the designated order. It is a place denied all things. Three graves lie as they should, their spirits sorted and filed. Claimed by one master or the other. Juliano, Agatha, Mary: they have found their eternities. But Barbara Seaberry is here. Pushing against everything in the three laws: natural, divine, and diabolic. She senses you in the same way you sense her. A force not of this world. Save that to you she is an aberration, while to her you are a threat. A law made manifest. The inevitable come to end her pain, her anguish, come to deny her need. She charges you. If you are not going to flee, you must fight.<<elseif $BarHoH is 2">>Before you have even fully entered, the wrongness of the place rushes at you. It physically grapples with you, ripping at you, through you, past you. To the bones. The tiny bones. It touches them. They lift from you, ripped from you with a force beyond your ability to stop... There is nothing. No final wail, no whisper of thanks, no echoing sigh. The ghost of Barbara Cottor is gone.<<elseif $barbara.Status is "Dead">>The crypt is quiet. You feel something almost like calm. It is something almost like pleasant. You don't like it. Since there is nothing else for you here, you should leave.<<else>>You return to the resting place of the Seaberrys - Juliano, Agatha, and Mary - and the haunt of the ghost of Barbara Cottor. She wails, a sound both physical and metaphysical, and rushes at you.<</if>> <</if>>

<<widget "tozero">><> <<set _num = $args[0]>> <<if _num < 0>> <<set _num = 0>> <</if>> _num <><</widget>>

<<if not visited()>><<initiate>><</if>> The being which was once Barbara Seaberry<<dispstats $barbara>> pushes at both you and the limits of existence, reality, and nature. How do you respond? [[Careful attack|CA: barbara]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: barbara]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: barbara]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: barbara]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: barbara]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> [[Run away.|The cemetery.]]

<<careful $barbara>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $barbara.Status is "Dead">>There is a ripple, an echoing on the level of the spirit. A wave of rage, sadness, and regret. When it disappates, you realise it was all that Barbara Seaberry had left. And you are [[done here.|The cemetery.]]<<else>> Barbara<<dispstats $barbara>> swirls around you, her unnatural presence still an affront to the laws of heaven and hell. [[Careful attack|CA: barbara]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: barbara]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: barbara]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: barbara]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: barbara]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> [[Run away.|The cemetery.]]<</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $barbara>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $barbara.Status is "Dead">>There is a ripple, an echoing on the level of the spirit. A wave of rage, sadness, and regret. When it disappates, you realise it was all that Barbara Seaberry had left. And you are [[done here.|The cemetery.]]<<else>> Barbara<<dispstats $barbara>> swirls around you, her unnatural presence still an affront to the laws of heaven and hell. [[Careful attack|CA: barbara]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: barbara]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: barbara]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: barbara]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: barbara]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> [[Run away.|The cemetery.]]<</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $barbara>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> Barbara<<dispstats $barbara>> writhes in confusion and terror, bits of her ripping free and spinning off to melt into nothingness. You hear a lullaby, a wail, and a sigh. What remains of her turns back to you, just as angry as before. [[Careful attack|CA: barbara]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: barbara]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: barbara]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: barbara]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: barbara]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> [[Run away.|The cemetery.]]<</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $barbara>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> Barbara<<dispstats $barbara>> swirls around you, her unnatural presence still an affront to the laws of heaven and hell. [[Careful attack|CA: barbara]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: barbara]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: barbara]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: barbara]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: barbara]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> [[Run away.|The cemetery.]]<</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $barbara>> For a moment you and the ghost of Barbara Seaberry<<dispstats $barbara>> merge. It is deeply unpleasant for you and judging by her scream, it was equally unpleasant for her. Your Manifest is now $Manifest [[Careful attack|CA: barbara]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: barbara]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: barbara]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: barbara]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>> [[Run away.|The cemetery.]]

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_one" time 0>><<audio "wrong_one" play>><</timed>> <<set $labguard = { Name: "The guard", Attack: 4, Guard: 7, Health: 8, Perception: 3, Resistance: 3, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> The room beyond is identical in size and shape to the one you just left. However, while the last room felt sanitised and strictly liminal, this one is clearly in regular use. You have two main clues that this is a guard station. The first is the furniture and detritus: a scarred wooden table, a wooden stool with uneven legs, a corner filled with mouldering chicken bones and fruit rinds, the deck of playing cards already half dealt in a losing game of patience. The other clue is the guard<<dispstats $labguard>>, who rises quickly and clumsily from the table, her eyes wide with fear as she draws her simple beaten steel sword. What do you do? [[Careful attack|CA: labguard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: labguard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: labguard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: labguard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: labguard]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> The room beyond is identical in size and shape to the one you just left. However, while the last room felt sanitised and strictly liminal, this one is clearly in regular use. You have two main clues that this is a guard station. The first is the furniture and detritus: a scarred wooden table, a wooden stool with uneven legs, a corner filled with mouldering chicken bones and fruit rinds, the deck of playing cards already half dealt in a losing game of patience. The other clue is the guard, who rises quickly and clumsily from the table, her eyes wide with fear ... with fear ... confusion. It should have been fear. It should have been screaming fear. She should have run, she- [Scream, quickly cut off.] <</if>>

<<careful $labguard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $labguard.Status is "Dead">>The guard falls, more rotting meat for the pile of bones in the corner of the room. You step over their body and go through the [[door.|Maze 2]]<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $labguard>> breathes heavily but holds her ground. [[Careful attack|CA: labguard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: labguard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: labguard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: labguard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: labguard]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $labguard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $labguard.Status is "Dead">>The guard falls, more rotting meat for the pile of bones in the corner of the room. You step over their body and go through the [[door.|Maze 2]]<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $labguard>> breathes heavily but holds her ground. [[Careful attack|CA: labguard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: labguard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: labguard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: labguard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: labguard]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $labguard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $labguard>> takes a deep breath, as if accepting something, then shakes her head and raises her sword again. [[Careful attack|CA: labguard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: labguard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: labguard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: labguard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: labguard]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $labguard>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The guard<<dispstats $labguard>> breathes heavily but holds her ground. [[Careful attack|CA: labguard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: labguard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: labguard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: labguard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: labguard]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $labguard>> The guard<<dispstats $labguard>> squirms, shivers, then lets out a snatch of an ancient ritual of dark power: Ignosce mihi mater! Then she straightens, growls in a way which is neither quite human or animal, and readies for the next attack. Your Manifest is now $Manifest [[Careful attack|CA: labguard]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: labguard]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelemed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: labguard]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: labguard]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 2>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "crying_child" time 0>><<audio "crying_child" play>><</timed>> In a time when all feared the bomb, it was almost ironic to be consumed by such a small conflagration. You hear the screams, you smell the burning corduroy and nylon and flesh. You taste it. The boy watches and so do you. And it is good. Your Overpower is now $Overpower <<timed 17s>><<audio "choose_object" time 0>><<audio "choose_object" play>><</timed>>The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? [[The great, shining sword.]] [[The shield of brass.]] [[The night black cloak.]] [[The golden violin.]] <<if $HoH is true>> In a time when all feared the bomb, it was almost ironic to be consumed by such a small conflagration. You hear the screams, you smell the burning corduroy and nylon and flesh. You taste it. The boy watches and so do you. And it is good. The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? <</if>>

<<set $Obscure = $Obscure + 2>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "grasping_hands" time 0>><<audio "grasping_hands" play>><</timed>> A pushing, desperate need to escape, an unnatural break between worlds. Or a petty lie, a simple deceit. Or a promise of more, a wondrous precipice and a joyous exploration of the dark. What do the hands promise? What will you accept from them in the dark? Your Obscure is now $Obscure <<timed 19s>><<audio "choose_object" time 0>><<audio "choose_object" play>><</timed>>The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? [[The great, shining sword.]] [[The shield of brass.]] [[The night black cloak.]] [[The golden violin.]] <<if $HoH is true>> A pushing, desperate need to escape, an unnatural break between worlds. Or a petty lie, a simple deceit. Or a promise of more, a wondrous precipice and a joyous exploration of the dark. What do the hands promise? What will you accept from them in the dark? The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? <</if>>

<<set $Beguile = $Beguile + 2>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "flayed_man" time 0>><<audio "flayed_man" play>><</timed>> Weeping, leaking, pushing through the impossible. Blood pushed into canvas. Canvas resisting, pushing back into the world. To make a friend. A legacy. A chance for eternity. A chance for power, for a name in lights. For whom does one scream? Who benefits from the pain? Why can’t it be you? Your Beguile is now $Beguile <<timed 24s>><<audio "choose_object" time 0>><<audio "choose_object" play>><</timed>>The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? [[The great, shining sword.]] [[The shield of brass.]] [[The night black cloak.]] [[The golden violin.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Weeping, leaking, pushing through the impossible. Blood pushed into canvas. Canvas resisting, pushing back into the world. To make a friend. A legacy. A chance for eternity. A chance for power, for a name in lights. For whom does one scream? Who benefits from the pain? Why can’t it be you? The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? <</if>>

<<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 4>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "endless_ice" time 0>><<audio "endless_ice" play>><</timed>> Alone. Facing the impossible. Nothing behind, nothing to the right, nothing to the left, and ahead only the threat, the test. The claws and the teeth. ‘Cover it!’ they cry, but you know that is pointless. Those who will be driven to surrender will do so regardless of which flag you raise. But you, of course, are not one of them. Your Manifest is now $Manifest <<timed 25s>><<audio "choose_object" time 0>><<audio "choose_object" play>><</timed>>The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? [[The great, shining sword.]] [[The shield of brass.]] [[The night black cloak.]] [[The golden violin.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Alone. Facing the impossible. Nothing behind, nothing to the right, nothing to the left, and ahead only the threat, the test. The claws and the teeth. ‘Cover it!’ they cry, but you know that is pointless. Those who will be driven to surrender will do so regardless of which flag you raise. But you, of course, are not one of them. The Master says nothing about your choice. "You are to go up," he says. "There is an enemy. You will remove him. "Those of us who have fallen were not meant to rise. But first I shall give you two gifts. Giving is in my nature. "For one you must sink to the lowest point of this place. You must fall. Fall into the pit. "But before even that, you will choose a smaller boon." The Master brings you to an altar covered in blood-red satin. On that satin lie four objects. Which will you take? <</if>>

<<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "object" time 0>><<audio "object" play>><</timed>> "If that is your wish." Your Overpower is now $Overpower "Now, you are ready for your [[fall]]." /*Yes I know this could have been one passage, I couldn’t be fucked with the variables.*/ <<if $HoH is true>> "If that is your wish." "Now, you are ready for your fall." <</if>>

<<if $Manifest > 13>><<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 1>><<else>><<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 2>><</if>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "object" time 0>><<audio "object" play>><</timed>> "If that is your wish." <<if $Manifest > 13>>Your Overpower is now $Overpower<<else>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<</if>> "Now, you are ready for your [[fall]]." <<if $HoH is true>> "If that is your wish." "Now, you are ready for your fall." <</if>>

<<set $Obscure = $Obscure + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "object" time 0>><<audio "object" play>><</timed>> "If that is your wish." Your Obscure is now $Obscure "Now, you are ready for your [[fall]]." <<if $HoH is true>> "If that is your wish." "Now, you are ready for your fall." <</if>>

<<set $Beguile = $Beguile + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "object" time 0>><<audio "object" play>><</timed>> "If that is your wish." Your Beguile is now $Beguile "Now, you are ready for your [[fall]]." <<if $HoH is true>> "If that is your wish." "Now, you are ready for your fall." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "fall" time 0>><<audio "fall" play>><</timed>> The Master takes you out from his gallery and out across the wastes of the circles, through rank upon rank of segregated suffering. Eternal, yet forever fresh. Pain is always fresh and an infant bleeds as much as an ancient. The screams here will never end. You come to an edge. A rising mound of wet flesh, or a void of nothingness, or a wall of fire. In it are fourteen doors, each marked with a word: alternating sin and virtue. [[Chastity|wrong door]] and [[Lust|wrong door]]; [[Temperance|wrong door]] and [[Gluttony|wrong door]]; [[Charity|wrong door]] and [[Greed|wrong door]]; [[Diligence|wrong door]] and [[Sloth|wrong door]]; [[Humility|wrong door]] and [[Pride]]; [[Kindness|wrong door]] and [[Envy|wrong door]]; and [[Patience]] and [[Wrath|wrong door]]. "Which door comes before what you must do?" the Master asks. "Let us see if you have been listening." <<if $HoH is true>> The Master takes you out from his gallery and out across the wastes of the circles, through rank upon rank of segregated suffering. Eternal, yet forever fresh. Pain is always fresh and an infant bleeds as much as an ancient. The screams here will never end. You come to an edge. A rising mound of wet flesh, or a void of nothingness, or a wall of fire. In it are fourteen doors, each marked with a word: alternating sin and virtue. Chastity and Lust; Temperance and Gluttony; Charity and Greed; Diligence and Sloth; Humility and Pride; Kindness and Envy; and Patience and Wrath. "Which door comes before what you must do?" the Master asks. "Let us see if you have been listening." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_door" time 0>><<audio "wrong_door" play>><</timed>> You push open the door and find… … nothing. "A shame,” the Master says as he follows behind you. "It is one of our ironies. Only those who can prove that they do not need the help shall receive it. And you have proved nothing. "When you fail, I shall laugh at my own joke. "Now, it is time for you to [[go up]]." <<if $HoH is true>> You push open the door and find… … nothing. "A shame,” the Master says as he follows behind you. "It is one of our ironies. Only those who can prove that they do not need the help shall receive it. And you have proved nothing. "When you fail, I shall laugh at my own joke. "Now, it is time for you to go up." [Pause.] Perhaps that’s not fair on non-native English speakers. [Short pause.] Too late now. <</if>>

<><<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 2>> <<if $Manifest > 15>><<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 2>><<else>><<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 1>><</if>> <<set $Beguile = $Beguile + 1>> <<set $Obscure = $Obscure + 1>> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "pride" time 0>><<audio "pride" play>><</timed>> <> You fall. You fall and fall, past the cages of bones, the pits of lava, the racks, the thorn trees. Past the bones and the rock and the burning metals. You fall until you reach the seed of it all, the seed of all things which have a body and, therefore, the seed of all sin. The place of primordial darkness. All directions take you closer to the light of heaven. So you hang in that un-holy crux, the impossible point from which it is not possible to fall. Something touches you. Enters you. Fills you. Your Obscure is now $Obscure Your Manifest is now $Manifest Your Overpower is now $Overpower Your Beguile is now $Beguile There is no way you cannot stay here. There is no way you can stay here. You must [[go up]]. <<if $HoH is true>> You fall. You fall and fall, past the cages of bones, the pits of lava, the racks, the thorn trees. Past the bones and the rock and the burning metals. You fall until you reach the seed of it all, the seed of all things which have a body and, therefore, the seed of all sin. The place of primordial darkness. All directions take you closer to the light of heaven. So you hang in that un-holy crux, the impossible point from which it is not possible to fall. Something touches you. Enters you. Fills you. There is no way you cannot stay here. There is no way you can stay here. You must go up. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "go_up" time 0>><<audio "go_up" play>> <</timed>> <<set $StartingManifest = $Manifest>> <> Up, up, up, up. Past everything which, in your little thing which cannot accurately be called a ‘life’, you have ever known. "There is a priest. An ‘Archpatriarch,” the Master’s voice echoes in your head. "He profanes the order of things. Of hell and heaven. You must stop him." For something born deep beneath the earth, the light builds slowly. "He has usurped an empire and made the castle his temple. Reach him. Stop him. "Remember that not all of my followers are infernal. Find my mortal followers. They will have gifts for you, rituals of the material world. "And more than anything, seek the ways through the maze." Whoosh, crash, crunch. And then there is bloood. Reality feels like a cold metal stab to the brain, like an icicle headache. The air feels hollow. The room around you is blood. bodies lie broken and scattered around you, flesh and stained black robes torn, bone slpintered, fractured, organs ruptured bloodvessles burst, brain lumps spattered onwooden walls. You are within one. You look through a ripped hole of skin. You have t fight your way out of its ribcage grasping to on you. As you push free chunks of flesh tople free, landing wetly on the blood-saturated ground. Female or female, there is no way to tell who the person you have been birthed within was, for now they are nothing but blooood and flesh blood and flesh. There are things to see. What do you look at? [[Sigils bunrt into the floor.]] [[The robes of the people around you.]] [[The altar behind you.]] [The body you came from]] [[The books lying on the floor]] [[The knife lying at your feet.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Up, up, up, up. Past everything which, in your little thing which cannot accurately be called a ‘life’, you have ever known. "There is a priest. An ‘Archpatriarch,” the Master’s voice echoes in your head. "He profanes the order of things. Of hell and heaven. You must stop him." For something born deep beneath the earth, the light builds slowly. "He has usurped an empire and made the castle his temple. Reach him. Stop him. "Remember that not all of my followers are infernal. Find my mortal followers. They will have gifts for you, rituals of the material world. "And more than anything, seek the ways through the maze." Whoosh, crash, crunch. And then there is blood. Reality feels like a cold metal stab to the brain, like an icicle headache. The air feels hollow. The room around you is blood. Bodies lie broken and scattered around you, flesh and stained black robes torn, bone slpintered, fractured, organs ruptured blood vessles burst, brain lumps spattered onwooden walls. You are within one. You look through a ripped hole of skin. You have to fight your way out of its ribcage grasping onto you. As you push free chunks of flesh tople free, landing wetly on the blood-saturated ground. Male or female, there is no way to tell who the person you have been birthed within was, for now they are nothing but blood and flesh. Blood and flesh. There are things to see here. What do you look at? <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_robes_of" time 0>><<audio "the_robes_of" play>> <</timed>> <> Most of the fabric which has not burnt flash-fused with the skin of those who were wearing it. Chunks of textured skin reveal coarse, black wool. One body, opposite you and across the room, lies curled up, a thick knot of fluid-saturated black wool pushed into his mouth and over his nostrils. Another figure, closer and within the circle wears clothes untouched by flame, although her black flesh is crumbling off her bones as she cools. Her vestments are pure, clean, virginal white where they are not corrupted by the charcoal stains of their wearer. A sheet of linen, as pure as the rest, covers a comparatively stiff sheet of calfskin. You cannot see much of the hexagram drawn upon the hide from where you stand and you make no attempt to see more. Even the little that you do see induces in you the compulsion to let your bones mould, to reknit flesh and twist muscles until you have taken a more simian form. Your hips ache because you have not folded into a obedient bow, your eyes water at the impertinence of looking at the figure in the circle in such an undignified way. But you will not take human form, nor will you be docile. The seal is not enough, not nearly enough. It was not enough to save the figure in the circle. Neither was the golden ring, flung across the room in a moment of spasming panic before it could be raised to the face. And while the gold and silver pentagram at the burnt corpse’s breast is of the correct form, without the ring, raised and ready, there was nothing to prevent the fires of hell from consuming the flesh of the ill-prepared unfortunate. [[Look around.]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Sigh.] Most of the fabric which has not burnt flash-fused with the skin of those who were wearing it. Chunks of textured skin reveal coarse, black wool. One body, opposite you and across the room, lies curled up, a thick knot of fluid-saturated black wool pushed into his mouth and over his nostrils. Another figure, closer and within the circle wears clothes untouched by flame, although her black flesh is crumbling off her bones as she cools. Her vestments are pure, clean, virginal white where they are not corrupted by the charcoal stains of their wearer. A sheet of linen, as pure as the rest, covers a comparatively stiff sheet of calfskin. You cannot see much of the hexagram drawn upon the hide from where you stand and you make no attempt to see more. Even the little that you do see induces in you the compulsion to let your bones mould, to reknit flesh and twist muscles until you have taken a more simian form. Your hips ache because you have not folded into a obedient bow, your eyes water at the impertinence of looking at the figure in the circle in such an undignified way. But you will not take human form, nor will you be docile. The seal is not enough, not nearly enough. It was not enough to save the figure in the circle. Neither was the golden ring, flung across the room in a moment of spasming panic before it could be raised to the face. And while the gold and silver pentagram at the burnt corpse’s breast is of the correct form, without the ring, raised and ready, there was nothing to prevent the fires of hell from consuming the flesh of the ill-prepared unfortunate. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_books_lying" time 0>><<audio "the_books_lying" play>> <</timed>> <> Most of the books littering the floor are nothing more than charred covers now, any knowledge they once held still glowing with dying heat. But most of the spines are still legible, to one like you, a being of ash. There are books on language, dictionaries of dead tongues. Guides to geometry, both mundane and esoteric. Books on dye production, leather work, and anatomy. And one small notebook, bound in black, hidden and protected beneath a body burnt beyond any hope of recognition. The words of summoning and binding written in a small, neat hand. Written incorrectly. Written, underlined, above the first conjuration: “Begin first chant while preparing ritual space.” Which, you know well, would put the cart before the horse. Or the demon before the ward. [[Look around.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Most of the books littering the floor are nothing more than charred covers now, any knowledge they once held still glowing with dying heat. But most of the spines are still legible, to one like you, a being of ash. There are books on language, dictionaries of dead tongues. Guides to geometry, both mundane and esoteric. Books on dye production, leather work, and anatomy. And one small notebook, bound in black, hidden and protected beneath a body burnt beyond any hope of recognition. The words of summoning and binding written in a small, neat hand. Written incorrectly. Written, underlined, above the first conjuration: “Begin first chant while preparing ritual space.” Which, you know well, would put the cart before the horse. Or the demon before the ward. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_knife_lying" time 0>><<audio "the_knife_lying" play>> <</timed>> <> The knife is simple, a kitchen knife. A It’s covered in blood. You’ve got claws and stuff so there’s no point taking it. [[Look around.]]

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "look_around_1" time 0>><<audio "look_around_1" play>><</timed>>You hear the sound of voices coming from outside. You do not know how you understand the few words you catch, but you hear ‘cult’, ‘ritual’, ‘master Witch Hunter’ and ‘priest’. And then you hear the word ‘exorcism’, and even the sound makes your ears sting. <</if>><<if visited() is 2>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "look_around_2" time 0>><<audio "look_around_2" play>><</timed>>They know you are here. The shouting is growing less panicked and more ordered. Preparations are being made and they are being made fast. There is a rolling and a sloshing. They have holy water. Barrels of it. More than enough to unmake you. <</if>><<if visited() is 3>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "look_around_3" time 0>><<audio "look_around_3" play>><</timed>>There is banging on the door downstairs. The noise is not made by the weak flesh of human hands and feet. The Witch Hunters are using something much heavier. You already hear splintering. You should not stay here long. <</if>><<if visited() is 4>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "look_around_4" time 0>><<audio "look_around_4" play>><</timed>>There is a crash and then there are running feet. They are right below you. This is your last chance to run. <</if>><<if visited() is 5>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "look_around_5" time 0>><<audio "look_around_5" play>><</timed>>They say ‘curiosity killed the cat’. But why? What do they not want the cat to learn? And what is curiosity if not lust for knowledge? Greed for information? It should be rewarded, not punished. Here: <><<set $array to []>> <<for $n to 0; $n < 12 - $Manifest; $n++>> <<run $array.push("N")>> <</for>> <<for $n to 0; $n < 12 - $Overpower; $n++>> <<run $array.push("K")>> <</for>> <<for $n to 0; $n < 12 - $Beguile; $n++>> <<run $array.push("S")>> <</for>> <<for $n to 0; $n < 12 - $Obscure; $n++>> <<run $array.push("T")>> <</for>> <<set $l = $array.random()>> <<if $l is "N">><<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 2>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<elseif $l is "K">><<set $Overpower = $Overpower + 1>>Your Overpower is now $Overpower<<elseif $l is "S">><<set $Beguile = $Beguile + 1>>Your Beguile is now $Beguile<<else>><<set $Obscure = $Obscure + 1>>Your Obscure is now $Obscure<</if>><> And another gift. The time to escape. This time, you have no choice but to take it. <</if>><<if not hasVisited("Sigils bunrt into the floor.")>>[[Sigils bunrt into the floor.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The robes of the people around you.")>>[[The robes of the people around you.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The altar behind you.")>>[[The altar behind you.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The books lying on the floor")>>[[The books lying on the floor]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The knife lying at your feet.")>>[[The knife lying at your feet.]] <</if>>[[Leave now.]] <<if visited() is 1>><<if $HoH is true>> You hear the sound of voices coming from outside. You do not know how you understand the few words you catch, but you hear ‘cult’, ‘ritual’, ‘master Witch Hunter’ and ‘priest’. And then you hear the word ‘exorcism’, and even the sound makes your ears sting. <</if>><<elseif visited() is 2>><<if $HoH is true>> They know you are here. The shouting is growing less panicked and more ordered. Preparations are being made and they are being made fast. There is a rolling and a sloshing. They have holy water. Barrels of it. More than enough to unmake you. <</if>><<elseif visited() is 3>><<if $HoH is true>> There is banging on the door downstairs. The noise is not made by the weak flesh of human hands and feet. The Witch Hunters are using something much heavier. You already hear splintering. You should not stay here long. <</if>><<elseif visited() is 4>><<if $HoH is true>> There is a crash and then there are running feet. They are right below you. This is your last chance to run. <</if>><<elseif visited() is 5>><<if $HoH is true>> Thanks. It means a lot. That you'd want to read all these little bits I wrote. I only just wrote them, I think. I forgot about this bit. I wanted to leave it till ... I'd done it. But it wasn't much like that in the end. It wouldn't have fit. I couldn't. I was ... I was just trying to make it work. [Heavy breathing, cough.] I've just gotta move on. Get it done. Finish it, tonight. Still, thank you. I know you didn't do it for me. But ... In saying this it feels like you did. Even though I don't know the fuck is clicking this, or if anyone even did click this, or if I'm even talking to myself. Fuck. Fuck! I can't be talking to myself. I fucking was before though, wasn't I? Right? [Loud bang.] Fuck! I just wanted someone to know me. Do you want to fucking know me? Do you? There's a cabin in the woods, it's the tutorial, so you can skip it, but you shouldn't. It's ... she'll mention a tarot deck. I'll put a link in the text. I'll make it the same colour as the rest. But if you want to know, it will be hiding there. Click on the word tarot. If you fucking care. If you're fucking listening. [Whispered:] What the fuck am I doing? <</if>><</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_altar_behind" time 0>><<audio "the_altar_behind" play>> <</timed>> <> You turn to look at the altar behind you. There is a figure lying on its back. Blood has made the cuffs of its sleeve heavy, dragging its limp arms down to dangle over the side. Save for the steady drip-drip of blood from neck and arm [[Look around.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You turn to look at the altar behind you. It has a dead rabbit on it. Its body is twisted and buckled. Her body is still and calm. There is a dead woman on it. The blood from her arm... <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "leave_now" time 0>><<audio "leave_now" play>> <</timed>> <> You burst out of the window and land easily on the soft grass outside. Behind and above you hear shouts – fear and shock as the hunters and holy men find that they are too late. The atrocity has happened. The atrocity is free. Or is it? You hear someone coming, an unhurried but determined step. Someone realising too late that no-one thought to watch this side of the building. They will be around the corner at any moment. But how will you greet them? [[You will not, you will already have disappeared into the tree line.]] [[With tooth and claw.]] [[With a smile and a honeyed word.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You burst out of the window and land easily on the soft grass outside. Behind and above you hear shouts – fear and shock as the hunters and holy men find that they are too late. The atrocity has happened. The atrocity is free. Or is it? You hear someone coming, an unhurried but determined step. Someone realising too late that no-one thought to watch this side of the building. They will be around the corner at any moment. But how will you greet them? <</if>>

Rolling Overpower... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Overpower + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 8>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "with_tooth_and_SUC" time 0>><<audio "with_tooth_and_SUC" play>>A woman rounds the corner, her crossbow raised. Her face begins to twist to … something. Fear? Anticipation? Excitement? Love? You will never know, because you rip it off before she can finish manifesting her emotion. You leave the skin and muscle and blood to cool in the night air as you disappear into the treeline. Now you must decide [[where to go next.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "with_tooth_and_FAI" time 0>><<audio "with_tooth_and_FAI" play>>A woman rounds the corner, her crossbow raised. You lunge, but she sidesteps. She is not screaming, she is shouting, and voices, nearby voices, are answering. She retreats as you turn from your failed attack. You do not have time for another. You turn to run, bolting towards the treeline, but you are not quite quick enough and she fires. Her aim is good. The bolt whizzes through the air [[and...|crossbow hit]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $r > 8>><<if $HoH is true>> A woman rounds the corner, her crossbow raised. Her face begins to twist to … something. Fear? Anticipation? Excitement? Love? You will never know, because you rip it off before she can finish manifesting her emotion. You leave the skin and muscle and blood to cool in the night air as you disappear into the treeline. Now you must decide where to go next. <</if>><<else>><<if $HoH is true>> A woman rounds the corner, her crossbow raised. You lunge, but she sidesteps. She is not screaming, she is shouting, and voices, nearby voices, are answering. She retreats as you turn from your failed attack. You do not have time for another. You turn to run, bolting towards the treeline, but you are not quite quick enough and she fires. Her aim is good. The bolt whizzes through the air and... <</if>><</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 8>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "with_a_smile_SUC" time 0>><<audio "with_a_smile_SUC" play>>A woman rounds the corner, crossbow in hand, and freezes when she sees you standing openly before her. You tell her all will be well. That you will make sure of it, for nothing but the price of a secret. The weapon goes slack in her hands. "Search out the Witch Hunters. Spill their water before they can turn it on you," she tells you. You bow and thank her and then simply walk away. You hear her take a step to follow you, but you waggle your finger over your shoulder and she stops, allowing you to disappear into the woods. Now you must decide [[where to go next.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "with_a_smile_FAI" time 0>><<audio "with_a_smile_FAI" play>>A woman rounds the corner, crossbow in hand, and freezes when she sees you standing openly before her. You begin to tell her that all will be well, but before you can manage more than a few words you see her raise her crossbow. You turn to run, bolting towards the treeline, but you are not quite quick enough and she fires. Her aim is good. The bolt whizzes through the air [[and...|crossbow hit]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 8>>A woman rounds the corner, crossbow in hand, and freezes when she sees you standing openly before her. You tell her all will be well. That you will make sure of it, for nothing but the price of a secret. The weapon goes slack in her hands. "Search out the Witch Hunters. Spill their water before they can turn it on you," she tells you. You bow and thank her and then simply walk away. You hear her take a step to follow you, but you waggle your finger over your shoulder and she stops, allowing you to disappear into the woods. Now you must decide where to go next.<<else>>A woman rounds the corner, crossbow in hand, and freezes when she sees you standing openly before her. You begin to tell her that all will be well, but before you can manage more than a few words you see her raise her crossbow. You turn to run, bolting towards the treeline, but you are not quite quick enough and she fires. Her aim is good. The bolt whizzes through the air and...<</if>> <</if>>

<><<set $guard = { Name: "Guard", Attack: 4, Guard: 6, Health: 8, Perception: 4, Resistance: 4, Status: "Alive", }>> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "get_to_town" time 0>><<audio "get_to_town" play>> <</timed>> <> The journey is not far, at least not for one like you. The sky is still dark when the stone walls of the town rise up in your path. They are tall and, judging by the size of the blocks, thick. The wall is clean, without crack or blemish and it almost shines in the silver light of the moon. It is too tall to scale and too sturdy to break through. You follow it, its curve barely perceptible, the stonework monotonous in its perfection. The only things which change are the occasional guard towers, bright beacons of flame against the sky. And then you reach a gate. Closed and barred. You stop for just a moment, to consider what you can do, when you feel a slight rumbling beneath your feet. You turn and see that there is a small trade caravan coming down the wide forest path. A moment later something flickers and you see a shadow moving in the watch tower above the gate. There is no question that they will open the gate for the caravan. The question is, how will you take advantage of it? [[Pounce immediately, taking advantage of the distraction.|Surprise attack the guard.]] [[Sneak in under the wheels and shadows of the carts.]] [[Beguile one of the traders to let you hide in a carriage.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The journey is not far, at least not for one like you. The sky is still dark when the stone walls of the town rise up in your path. They are tall and, judging by the size of the blocks, thick. The wall is clean, without crack or blemish and it almost shines in the silver light of the moon. It is too tall to scale and too sturdy to break through. You follow it, its curve barely perceptible, the stonework monotonous in its perfection. The only things which change are the occasional guard towers, bright beacons of flame against the sky. And then you reach a gate. Closed and barred. You stop for just a moment, to consider what you can do, when you feel a slight rumbling beneath your feet. You turn and see that there is a small trade caravan coming down the wide forest path. A moment later something flickers and you see a shadow moving in the watch tower above the gate. There is no question that they will open the gate for the caravan. The question is, how will you take advantage of it? <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "how_to_fight" time 0>><<audio "how_to_fight" play>> <</timed>> <> "Fighting is simple." she says, readjusting her failing body with a grunt. "You can use your varied skills to weaken or bamboozle your enemy, but ultimately you must use your power to defeat them. The choice you must make is whether to be cautious or bold. A cautious attack is the safest course, and the one you will take most often I wager. You will pit your Overpower against the enemy’s Attack, add some chance – I find a die with ten sides approximates the will of the universe well – to both sides, and if you are victorious, you will deal a blow, but if they are then they will deal the blow. If you pick ferocity, you will draw blood. Again, you will pit your Overpower, plus chance, against your opponent. But unless your blow kills, or you overwhelm your opponent's Guard, either with chance or two-to-one, then they will strike you back. Perhaps deception is your primary skill? You could attempt to confuse your opponent with a feint. If, again with chance on both sides, your ability to Obscure your actions can outstrip your enemy’s Perception, then the next time you strike, either cautiously or with ferocity, you shall add your ability to Obscure to your ability to Overpower. A potentially potent force, if you are inclined to walk with the shadows. Of course, you could attempt to sweet talk your opponent. If, after chance is added both to your Beguiling skills and your opponent’s Resistance, you present the more alluring case, their other attributes will be permanently lowered against you. But if they find the catch in your honeyed words, they will surely strike you. It is a modest arsenal, but it contains all you need. Still, I would not be surprised if in your travels you were to meet more like me, those with some knowledge of rituals which may be able to aid you in expanding your abilities. If you intend to bring low the Archpatriarch then I would highly recommend you seek out these rituals. "Now, what else can I teach you?" How do you reply? "I want to [[know more about the mortal world]]." "Give me an [[explanation of what I am|explanation of what you are]]." "I am ready to [[leave]]." <<if $HoH is true>> "Fighting is simple." she says, readjusting her failing body with a grunt. "You can use your varied skills to weaken or bamboozle your enemy, but ultimately you must use your power to defeat them. The choice you must make is whether to be cautious or bold. A cautious attack is the safest course, and the one you will take most often I wager. You will pit your Overpower against the enemy’s Attack, add some chance – I find a die with ten sides approximates the will of the universe well – to both sides, and if you are victorious, you will deal a blow, but if they are then they will deal the blow. If you pick ferocity, you will draw blood. Again, you will pit your Overpower, plus chance, against your opponent. But unless your blow kills, or you overwhelm your opponent's Guard, either with chance or two-to-one, then they will strike you back. Perhaps deception is your primary skill? You could attempt to confuse your opponent with a feint. If, again with chance on both sides, your ability to Obscure your actions can outstrip your enemy’s Perception, then the next time you strike, either cautiously or with ferocity, you shall add your ability to Obscure to your ability to Overpower. A potentially potent force, if you are inclined to walk with the shadows. Of course, you could attempt to sweet talk your opponent. If, after chance is added both to your Beguiling skills and your opponent’s Resistance, you present the more alluring case, their other attributes will be permanently lowered against you. But if they find the catch in your honeyed words, they will surely strike you. It is a modest arsenal, but it contains all you need. Still, I would not be surprised if in your travels you were to meet more like me, those with some knowledge of rituals which may be able to aid you in expanding your abilities. If you intend to bring low the Archpatriarch then I would highly recommend you seek out these rituals. "Now, what else can I teach you?" How do you reply? "I want to know more about the mortal world." "Give me an explanation of what I am." "I am ready to leave." <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "know_more_mortal" time 0>><<audio "know_more_mortal" play>> <</timed>> <> "This is a broken place," she says, "where darkness masquerades as light, where suffering is painted as a virtue, and where magic only exists clinging in the far corners of things. Up here you will find spirits and golems and wisps and the stunted afterbirth of dragons, but mostly you will find men and women blindly moving from life to death. "And everywhere you look, you’ll see the church. It is not a disease, it is an infestation, it eats through the fibre of society and leaves it hollow. "The hive has many queens. You have been summoned and you have been sent to squish one of them. The Archpatriarch is not the originator of the faith, nor the architect, nor the grand master. But he is the epitome of it, of its rot and hypocrisy. He took faith and hope and splattered them against a king’s castle wall, until that king had fallen and now he’s risen straight up to sit on the empty throne. "It is up to you to scrape him from that seat. "Take what little hope you can find left. There are those, like me, who know the evil hiding beneath the cross of gold. There are others who simply have power they do not know how to wield. Convince them to share, or steal from them, or simply force them to give you what they have. "But know you will need both knowledge and power to complete this quest. "Now, what else can I teach you?" How do you reply? "Teach me [[how to fight]]." "Give me an [[explanation of what I am|explanation of what you are]]." "I am ready to [[leave]]." <<if $HoH is true>> "This is a broken place," she says, "where darkness masquerades as light, where suffering is painted as a virtue, and where magic only exists clinging in the far corners of things. Up here you will find spirits and golems and wisps and the stunted afterbirth of dragons, but mostly you will find men and women blindly moving from life to death. "And everywhere you look, you’ll see the church. It is not a disease, it is an infestation, it eats through the fibre of society and leaves it hollow. "The hive has many queens. You have been summoned and you have been sent to squish one of them. The Archpatriarch is not the originator of the faith, nor the architect, nor the grand master. But he is the epitome of it, of its rot and hypocrisy. He took faith and hope and splattered them against a king’s castle wall, until that king had fallen and now he’s risen straight up to sit on the empty throne. "It is up to you to scrape him from that seat. "Take what little hope you can find left. There are those, like me, who know the evil hiding beneath the cross of gold. There are others who simply have power they do not know how to wield. Convince them to share, or steal from them, or simply force them to give you what they have. "But know you will need both knowledge and power to complete this quest. "Now, what else can I teach you?" How do you reply? "Teach me how to fight." "Give me an explanation of what I am." "I am ready to leave." <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "know_more_self" time 0>><<audio "know_more_self" play>> <</timed>> <> "You," she explains, "are a thing of the netherworld. A myth, a threat, a creation, a fact. "But you know that. "You are a composite creature. You are a thing of five faces, made by your master and bound by my followers. "Most fundamentally and most ephemerally you are that which binds you to this place. You are your manifest, your connection to this plane which will never be your home. Each time this world strikes at you, your connection to it will waver and your manifest will reduce. "You are destruction. You are violence, you are wrath. You are a thing of fire and blood. You are the force of time and sin, the force to overpower all. You are the beast that rips with tooth and claw. You are the human call to entropy. "You are a whispered voice, a slip of bare skin, a feast of dripping fat, a glint of diamond, the softness of a feather bed. When a man strays from his path it is because he is chasing you. It is because you beguile him. It is because you are the voice in his head. "You are one with the dark, mystical, pained parts of this world. You are an obscure thing, a thing which moves in shadow. Those who see you can choose madness or blindness and your very being can help them choose the mercy of letting their eyes simply slip off you. "And, finally, you are the greatest power of all. Heaven’s greatest gift and hell’s greatest tool. You are choice. "That is what you are. "Is there anything else?" How do you reply? "Teach me [[how to fight]]." "I want to [[know more about the mortal world]]." "I am ready to [[leave]]. <<if $HoH is true>> [Sigh.] "You," she explains, "are a thing of the netherworld. A myth, a threat, a creation, a fact. "But you know that. "You are a composite creature. You are a thing of five faces, made by your master and bound by my followers. "Most fundamentally and most ephemerally you are that which binds you to this place. You are your manifest, your connection to this plane which will never be your home. Each time this world strikes at you, your connection to it will waver and your manifest will reduce. "You are destruction. You are violence, you are wrath. You are a thing of fire and blood. You are the force of time and sin, the force to overpower all. You are the beast that rips with tooth and claw. You are the human call to entropy. "You are a whispered voice, a slip of bare skin, a feast of dripping fat, a glint of diamond, the softness of a feather bed. When a man strays from his path it is because he is chasing you. It is because you beguile him. It is because you are the voice in his head. "You are one with the dark, mystical, pained parts of this world. You are an obscure thing, a thing which moves in shadow. Those who see you can choose madness or blindness and your very being can help them choose the mercy of letting their eyes simply slip off you. "And, finally, you are the greatest power of all. Heaven’s greatest gift and hell’s greatest tool. You are choice. "That is what you are. "Is there anything else?" How do you reply? "Teach me how to fight." "I want to know more about the mortal world." "I am ready to leave. <</if>>

<<if not hasVisited("how to fight")>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "leave" time 0>><<audio "leave" play>><</timed>>Are you sure you do not wish to learn [[how to fight]] before you go? Or are you sure you wish to [[leave|sure leave]]?<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "sure_leave" time 0>><<audio "sure_leave" play>><</timed>>The woman nods, laughs, and then dies. You return to the forest and head towards the town you somehow know you must reach. [[Continue.|get to the town]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if not hasVisited("how to fight")>>Are you sure you do not wish to learn how to fight before you go? Or are you sure you wish to leave?<<else>>The woman nods, laughs, and then dies. You return to the forest and head towards the town you somehow know you must reach.<</if>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "seven_of_cups" time 0>><<audio "seven_of_cups" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">The future</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/Cups07.jpg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> In her reading she said: "the seven of cups tells me that your future is going to be one of startling imagination, that your mind will find riches and wonders which will show that everything which came before was just the quest the hero had to struggle through to reach the grail. "The ace of wands shows me how this imagination will manifest. The ace of wands is a card of power. It is energy, movement, and potential. For you, I see the creation of something great. Its position next to the hope represented by the eight of wands indicates that not only will you create something of great imaginative brilliance, but that this thing will also either be itself of great power, or will bring you great earthly power. As the hanged man manifesting the emotional curiosity of the page of cups, this power will likely involve both the dark and the light. "I do not see in this reading that this power will free you from the noose, but I believe that it will be through and within the noose that you find this power. You will find your outcome through the creative exploration of dark uncertainties." End quote. Was she preparing me? Is this just what she wanted to see? Did she even draw these cards? <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "five_of_cups" time 0>><<audio "five_of_cups" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">The cause</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/Cups05.webp" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> Maybe I am a miserable fuckhead. Or maybe three cups spilt is worse than two unspilt. Look on the bright side of life! Well… fuck you. [Long pause. Sound of sob.] She said this card meant I was alone. That’s probably a good guess for someone who’s buying a tarot reading off Etsy. Still true. [breaking down] I’m so alone, I’m so alone. [Heavy, shaky breathing] I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I’m so alone. She’s gone. She’s gone. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "ace_of_wands" time 0>><<audio "ace_of_wands" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">The outcome</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/Wands01.jpg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> Bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit! <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "eight_of_wands" time 0>><<audio "eight_of_wands" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">Hopes and fears</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/Wands10.jpg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> I don’t know what this means. She didn’t talk about it much. Something about overwhelming power. An overabundance of firepower. Something like, if you could learn how to wield eight guns, you’d be unstoppable. Why did that feel believable? Why did it feel like that would ever be something I was capable of? Now I look at it and he just looks tired. Home still so far away. No guarantee he’ll ever get there. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "seven_of_pentacles" time 0>><<audio "seven_of_pentacles" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">The obstacle</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/Pentacles07.jpg" width="450" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> Why am I doing this? She said in her reading: "your achievements haunt you. You must overcome both your successes and your failures before you can move on to what you need to do." She had ideas about what I ‘needed to do’, but we never really talked about my achievements. When I first got the reading, I really thought it was about this. The writing. I was hung up on it. Fuck, look what I’m doing now, look what I’ve run straight back to. After all this and, fucking everything, my whole life, here I am saying this over a picture of a tarot card in the hopes, the same old fucking hopes. I won a Xyzzy, when those still existed. I hope they do again, they’re good people, the organizers. But, I won one, with my first ever game. Which was great. But the game was … nothing. Lots of people seemed to think I’d invented something – and I was one of them – but I was told that I hadn’t. And the story itself said nothing. War bad. But also, of course, kind of war fun. Isn’t destruction aesthetic? So I got political, kind of. War actually happened and I thought I had something important to say about it. I kept thinking that for years. Well two. Spent two weeks locked in my flat streaming myself writing something to raise money for charity. We raised a bit, and maybe that helped. Other people’s money. But the words I wrote were pointless. Could have farted into a microphone for 336 hours and it would have had the same effect. More, we might have gone fucking viral. Just some [chuckle] slop, since then. Some angst. Some people reviewing my games wondering whether anyone else has done the thing they don’t realise I’d already done twice three years ago. They’re looking at me and they’ve already forgotten me. It matters so fucking little. Then why the fuck am I still doing it? Why the fuck am I sitting here, in the middle of the night, saying this? Why do I already know that I’ll put this in. That I’ll give this to the world to listen to and, like, five people on the internet I’ll never meet might hear it. Why did I spend so many, many hours reading and researching for stories that no-one will read carefully enough to know whether my representation of, I don’t know, a fucking Moscow suburb is realistic to the actual thing? And why did I think I could write that in the fucking first place? I don’t know fuck. And it all means fuck. But here I am again. Here I am again because I still want it. I’ve lost track of what ‘it’ is, but I want it so badly. I want to win. I want my name up there. I don’t want twenty people to kind of know my name, I want forty! Why am I, why do I fucking want this when I know it doesn’t fucking mean anything! Is that really all I have? A want, a fucking animal hunger to get a thing I don’t have which I know even if I did have it wouldn’t do anything for me. Do I really hope that if I write the right thing suddenly someone will come and say "I love you. I love that bit of you and that bit of you." "Aren’t you so smart? Aren’t you so hurt?" <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "queen_of_cups" time 0>><<audio "queen_of_cups" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">My surroundings</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/CupsQ.jpg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> My mother. [Clears throat]. This is my mother. She … [long pause] … I don’t know what to say. The reading said "you have someone very important in your life, someone very caring, very emotionally intelligent, but perhaps, given the energy in the other cards, this person is not meeting you on your level and is perhaps holding you back." Which is very wrong and very right. Not at once. Some of it is just wrong. Facts. Facts, I think. I lived with my mother until university. Then I moved out and tried to make it on my own. And then Covid-19 happened and I moved back. Then it was limbo. Then that was just it. I tried not to think about my receding hairline and my living situation at the same time. [Pause] Very caring. That’s the bit that’s true. The rest I’m not sure about. [Pause] I’m in her house right now. Home. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "page_of_cups" time 0>><<audio "page_of_cups" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">My role</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/CupsP.jpg" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> She told me, later, that it was this card which made her think I was something special. I found it weird when she said that, because it was also the part of the reading I’d thought most about. My role. What she said was gentle. But also exciting. And easy. I have to admit easy. Be curious. Be open. Be experimental. Trust the new. I could do that. I wanted to do that. It gave me hope. [Pause] That fish is mocking me, isn’t it? <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "the_tower" time 0>><<audio "the_tower" play>> <</timed>> <> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">A thought</h1></centre></body> <img src="Pictures/devil.webp" width="250" /> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[The spread|tarot deck]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[The game|a cabin in the woods]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> [Scared breathing for many seconds. Then:] It’s unescapable. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "sure_leave" time 0>><<audio "sure_leave" play>><</timed>> The woman nods, laughs, and then dies. You return to the forest and head towards the town you somehow know you must reach. [[Continue.|get to the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> The woman nods, laughs, and then dies. You return to the forest and head towards the town you somehow know you must reach. <</if>>

<> <<set $PA = random(1, 10) + $Overpower>> <<if $PA < 4>><<set $PD = 1>><<else>><<set $PD = Math.floor($PA/3)>><</if>> <<set $guard.Health = $guard.Health - $PD>> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "surprise_attack_guard" time 0>><<audio "surprise_attack_guard" play>> <</timed>> <> You rush forward. The guard is good, surprisingly so. But still, he is not ready, and you deliver a savage blow. You deal him $PD damage, but then he has his sword out and ready. [[Fight the guard.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You rush forward. The guard is good, surprisingly so. But still, he is not ready, and you deliver a savage blow. <</if>>

Rolling Obscure. <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 10>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_in_under_SUC" time 0>><<audio "sneak_in_under_SUC" play>>You wait in the bushes, watching as the wagons come closer, closer, closer- Now! You slip forward, sliding neatly between wheels, crouching down and perfectly matching their speed as they turn. The wagon moves towards the gate and the moment that it lurches to a stop, you stop too, moving closer to the wheel and hiding behind the spokes. The guard approaches, and for several breathless minutes – for why should you need to breathe? – you wait. And then, with another lurch you perfectly predicted, the wagon moves forward again. But as the wagon begins to pass under the arch, another problem occurs. You must break away from this wagon and disappear into the unknown shadows of the town. Another risk, although it should be trivial after what you have already done. But will you take it? Or will you spring from your position and strike the guard from the shadows? [[Attempt to dart into the town.]] [[Surprise attack the guard.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_in_under_FAI" time 0>><<audio "sneak_in_under_FAI" play>>You wait in the bushes, watching as the wagons come closer, closer, closer- Now! You dart forward, skidding in the mud and almost bounding off the hard wood of the wheel. But the wagon keeps moving forward, so you pick yourself up and scooch under the wooden bed. Everything goes well for a minute more, as the wagon rolls steadily towards the gate. But when the wagon stops, you do not stop with it, and suddenly you find yourself crouched in the open beneath the naked stars. You and the guard stare at each other, then both of you prepare to fight. [[Fight the guard.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 10>>You wait in the bushes, watching as the wagons come closer, closer, closer- Now! You slip forward, sliding neatly between wheels, crouching down and perfectly matching their speed as they turn. The wagon moves towards the gate and the moment that it lurches to a stop, you stop too, moving closer to the wheel and hiding behind the spokes. The guard approaches, and for several breathless minutes – for why should you need to breathe? – you wait. And then, with another lurch you perfectly predicted, the wagon moves forward again. But as the wagon begins to pass under the arch, another problem occurs. You must break away from this wagon and disappear into the unknown shadows of the town. Another risk, although it should be trivial after what you have already done. But will you take it? Or will you spring from your position and strike the guard from the shadows?<<else>>You wait in the bushes, watching as the wagons come closer, closer, closer- Now! You dart forward, skidding in the mud and almost bounding off the hard wood of the wheel. But the wagon keeps moving forward, so you pick yourself up and scooch under the wooden bed. Everything goes well for a minute more, as the wagon rolls steadily towards the gate. But when the wagon stops, you do not stop with it, and suddenly you find yourself crouched in the open beneath the naked stars. You and the guard stare at each other, then both of you prepare to fight.<</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Beguile. <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 10>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "beguile_one_of_SUC" time 0>><<audio "beguile_one_of_SUC" play>>Your disguise – desperate young maiden, harassed holy man, a simple voice in the mist – hardly matters. Neither do your words: be they a plea, a promise, or a threat. Neither does your tone, your bearing, your movements. What matters is what they all come together to make this man - a tired, bleary-eyed trader in sight of home – feel. And you make him feel what you need him to feel so that he unlocks the door to his carriage and lets you slip inside amongst his few sleeping passengers. You sit amongst the sleepers, smelling their breath, listening to their snores and examining the crosses hanging around their necks and beads held in hands under their thin pillows. The carriage stops and you hear the guard and the trader talk. Their voices are getting louder. Now you can hear their footsteps. Another sound. A shift in the breathing. Your eyes turn and meet the wide white eyes of a child. He sees you, but he is not yet awake enough to know what to do. You have a moment before he screams. Will you [[tell him to close his eyes on the nightmare]]? He should be easy to fool. Or will you cut your losses and jump from the carriage to [[surprise attack the guard|Surprise attack the guard.]]?<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "beguile_one_of_FAI" time 0>><<audio "beguile_one_of_FAI" play>>You approach the man, weaving your spells, preparing your words. Perhaps you are attempting to appear as a desperate but comely maiden, or a holy man attempting to escape harassment, or maybe you are simply intending to whisper something enchanting in his ear, acting as a wisp on the dark road. But as you prepare your glamour something slips, so as you begin to talk you realise that the man’s eyes, tired just a moment ago, have widened in fear and shock. He screams and the guard comes running. [[Fight the guard.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 10>>Your disguise – desperate young maiden, harassed holy man, a simple voice in the mist – hardly matters. Neither do your words: be they a plea, a promise, or a threat. Neither does your tone, your bearing, your movements. What matters is what they all come together to make this man - a tired, bleary-eyed trader in sight of home – feel. And you make him feel what you need him to feel so that he unlocks the door to his carriage and lets you slip inside amongst his few sleeping passengers. You sit amongst the sleepers, smelling their breath, listening to their snores and examining the crosses hanging around their necks and beads held in hands under their thin pillows. The carriage stops and you hear the guard and the trader talk. Their voices are getting louder. Now you can hear their footsteps. Another sound. A shift in the breathing. Your eyes turn and meet the wide white eyes of a child. He sees you, but he is not yet awake enough to know what to do. You have a moment before he screams. Will you tell him to close his eyes on the nightmare? He should be easy to fool. Or will you cut your losses and jump from the carriage to surprise attack the guard?<<else>>You approach the man, weaving your spells, preparing your words. Perhaps you are attempting to appear as a desperate but comely maiden, or a holy man attempting to escape harassment, or maybe you are simply intending to whisper something enchanting in his ear, acting as a wisp on the dark road. But as you prepare your glamour something slips, so as you begin to talk you realise that the man’s eyes, tired just a moment ago, have widened in fear and shock. He screams and the guard comes running. <</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Obscure. <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 7>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "attempt_to_dart_SUC" time 0>><<audio "attempt_to_dart_SUC" play>>The convoy moves into the town, and as the guard turns back to close the gate, you slink away unnoticed. [[Continue.|the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "attempt_to_dart_FAI" time 0>><<audio "attempt_to_dart_FAI" play>>You do not know what gave you away. You had waited until the guard looked away to close the gate, but for some reason he turned back just as you came out from under the cart. You hear him shout and have just enough time to turn to him before he is on you. [[Fight the guard.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 7>>The convoy moves into the town, and as the guard turns back to close the gate, you slink away unnoticed.<<else>>You do not know what gave you away. You had waited until the guard looked away to close the gate, but for some reason he turned back just as you came out from under the cart. You hear him shout and have just enough time to turn to him before he is on you.<</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Beguile. <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 7>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "tell_him_to_SUC" time 0>><<audio "tell_him_to_SUC" play>>You teach the child to close his eyes to the darkness, that if he sees horror, then all he can do is look away. It is a lie he would learn anyway, eventually. You see the effort in his face as he scrunches his eyes closed. He makes little grunting noises in his nose. When his fear and courage finally grow overwhelming and he opens his eyes again, you are gone. [[Continue.|the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "tell_him_to_FAI" time 0>><<audio "tell_him_to_FAI" play>>You tell the child that closing his eyes is the best remedy to the horrors of this world, but he is too naive to believe your lie. He screams and then so too does his mother, and then the rest of he wagon. You are out fast, but not fast enough. The guard is ready and so must you be. [[Fight the guard.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 7>>You teach the child to close his eyes to the darkness, that if he sees horror, then all he can do is look away. It is a lie he would learn anyway, eventually. You see the effort in his face as he scrunches his eyes closed. He makes little grunting noises in his nose. When his fear and courage finally grow overwhelming and he opens his eyes again, you are gone.<<else>>You tell the child that closing his eyes is the best remedy to the horrors of this world, but he is too naive to believe your lie. He screams and then so too does his mother, and then the rest of he wagon. You are out fast, but not fast enough. The guard is ready and so must you be.<</if>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "witch_hunter's_base" time 0>><<audio "witch_hunter's_base" play>> <</timed>> <> The Witch Hunters' base is a large stone building with burning bright windows. It would appear the enemy never sleeps. There are no guards – likely the Witch Hunters believe no-one (or no thing) would be foolish enough to assault them in their own base. And they are right. An assault would be foolish. But perhaps an infiltration.... You try the front door, experimentally, and find that it is open. Witnesses – grassing ratty snitches – are always welcome. Inside are dark wood panelled walls, a counter with a thick ledger resting on top of it, a locked cabinet filled with weapons and crosses and vials of holy water and other noxious things, a roaring fire, red upholstered plush chairs, and an open doorway leading to a corridor along which you can see stairs. You do not see any Witch Hunters. What will you do? <<if not hasVisited("rip the page from the book and burn it?")>>[[Sneak across the hall into the records room.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("Sneak across the hall and down the stairs and into the armoury.")>>[[Sneak across the hall and down the stairs and into the armoury.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("Sneak across the hall, up the stairs, across another hall and through a locked door to the Witch Hunter Captain’s private office.")>>[[Sneak across the hall, up the stairs, across another hall and through a locked door to the Witch Hunter Captain’s private office.]] <</if>>[[Return to the town.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> The Witch Hunters' base is a large stone building with burning bright windows. It would appear the enemy never sleeps. There are no guards – likely the Witch Hunters believe no-one (or no thing) would be foolish enough to assault them in their own base. And they are right. An assault would be foolish. But perhaps an infiltration.... You try the front door, experimentally, and find that it is open. Witnesses – grassing ratty snitches – are always welcome. Inside are dark wood panelled walls, a counter with a thick ledger resting on top of it, a locked cabinet filled with weapons and crosses and vials of holy water and other noxious things, a roaring fire, red upholstered plush chairs, and an open doorway leading to a corridor along which you can see stairs. You do not see any Witch Hunters. What will you do? <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_intro_1" time 0>><<audio "tavern_intro_1" play>><</timed>>The tavern, a place alive no matter the time of day. But that life comes in cycles, in seasons and here in the dead of the night it is spring, when the buds are beginning to bloom, delicate and hopeful. Drunks share secrets and confidences in the vain hope that the friendships they plant will survive into the harsh light of summer. It is time to harvest. You climb past the circular sign and down the chimney, settle comfortably in the embers of the fire, and listen.<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_intro_2" time 0>><<audio "tavern_intro_2" play>><</timed>>You return to the tavern, hoping to hear something new. Down the chimney and into the fire, ready to listen.<</if>> <<linkreplace "Listen in.">><<masteraudio stop>><<if not hasVisited("The Witch Hunters' base.") and $ListRumour is not true>><<set $ListRumour to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_1" time 0>><<audio "tavern_1" play>><</timed>>"There’s been odd things going on,” one drunk says, leaning in towards another. "Aye, you can feel it in the air." They pause, as if to test this. "Dark magic," the first one says. "Feels like it," his friend replies. "I wonder who’s doing it?" "I wouldn’t know. Bet the Witch Hunters have a list of suspects in their big building, in their records or something." There is a moment’s pause. They shift on their chairs, their addled minds deciding something. "I hope they get away with it. Whoever it is." Another pause. Then a clinking of glass. "Amen to that."<<elseif hasVisited("\"Mortal, you shall prepare a ritual for my glorification.\"") and $CryptRumour is not true and $barbara.Status is "Alive">><<set $CryptRumour to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_2" time 0>><<audio "tavern_2" play>><</timed>>"It was my turn to mind the old Seaberry crypt." "That the haunted one?" "Yeah. Martyn Cottor’s wife’s." "Oh right. Yeah, you’ve said before." "It’s terrible. I swear on God, it’s the cold of Hell in there. And that’s not the wind wailing." "It was suicide, wasn’t it?" "I thought it was childbirth." "I thought the baby died and that’s what did it." "I didn’t hear that. But that wail, indeed, it sounds like a mother who’s lost her child." "Is the baby buried down there too?" "In the crypt? Nah, the priest said there wasn’t any space for him. Just didn’t fancy the cost, I think, what with the rest of the family dead. Put the thing in its own grave. Much quieter, the baby. Ironically." “What did she call it? The baby?” “Why do you ask? “I don’t know. Just, doesn’t feel right, calling it the baby.” “Huh. I don’t know. I think she named it after her father.” “Hmm.” “Hmm.”<<elseif $SinRumour is not true>><<set $SinRumour to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_3" time 0>><<audio "tavern_3" play>><</timed>>"Did you hear the pastor the other day?" "Yeah, strange stuff he said." "When asked, really asked, the lonely man always reveals his real sin with his sixty-sixth word." "Aye." There is a pause. "And what the fuck are we supposed to do with that?"<<elseif $ManorSecret is not true>><<set $ManorSecret to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_4" time 0>><<audio "tavern_4" play>><</timed>>"I’m telling you, they’re guarding something for the Archpatriarch." "Borys, I know you work for them, but you really don’t understand the place that the van Hassels occupy in the - *hic* - political landscape of this town." "Like you do." "I have a thorough understanding of the intricacies of - *hic*" "You can’t even sit up straight. The van Hassels are the richest family in town. Their house is the best in the town. If the Archpatriarch wants something hidden, why wouldn’t he hide it with them?" "Keys to power…" "You’re not making any sense. I’m just one of their gardeners, but I hear things. They’ve got something the Archpatriarch doesn’t want anyone else to know about. It’s in the master’s bedroom." "And how would you know that?" "That’s where I’d put it." "You’re talking nonsense." "You can’t even sit straight."<<elseif $MissingPeople is not true>><<set $MissingPeople to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_5" time 0>><<audio "tavern_5" play>><</timed>>There is a man going from table to table, asking desperately if anyone has seen his wife. Most ignore him – they have heard these questions before. But there are those who do more than simply tolerate him. He half screams that she could die if she does not take her medicine, that the seizures will take her, but when he passes he leaves a wake of people talking about more than just one woman’s disappearance. "Have you heard anything from Daniel?" "Your brother hasn’t made contact?" "Catherine still missing?" "Something’s wrong. Something dark is happening in this town."<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tavern_6" time 0>><<audio "tavern_6" play>><</timed>>The tavern is quiet for now, those still awake staring into the depths of their cups, wondering why tonight started with such promise but ended up just the same as every other night.<</if>> [[Return to the town.|the town]]<</linkreplace>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_slum_church" time 0>><<audio "the_slum_church" play>><</timed>>The poor of the city live in wattle and daub houses, squat boxes of damp and rot. The really poor of the city live in the mud of the streets. But even here, amongst the hundreds crowded so close that the animal smells of their bodies form an overlapping tapestry, God’s house is made of stone. You see lights flicker inside, you guess candles or lanterns in both the [[nave]] and the [[diaconicon]]. Which shall you explore? Or do you wish to [[leave|the town]]?<<else>>You stand outside the church. [[Enter the nave|nave]] <<if $DiaconiconFinished is not true>>[[Enter the diaconicon|diaconicon]] <</if>>Go back to [[the town]].<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>The poor of the city live in wattle and daub houses, squat boxes of damp and rot. The really poor of the city live in the mud of the streets. But even here, amongst the hundreds crowded so close that the animal smells of their bodies form an overlapping tapestry, God’s house is made of stone. You see lights flicker inside, you guess candles or lanterns in both the nave and the diaconicon. Which shall you explore? Or do you wish to leave?<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "market_1" time 0>><<audio "market_1" play>> <</timed>> <>The market is supposed to be a place of light, of the smell of crops, of talk, of community, of life. But here, in this town, it has become something undead, something which never sleeps. Crammed into a circular stone-walled close too small for itself, the coloured canvas-covered stalls are vacated by the farmers and craftsmen when the sun begins to turn the colour of blood in the western sky. That is when the usurers, pawnbrokers, and thieves move in behind them like cockroaches swarming through cracks. They lay out their wares and promises on tattered black silk and call out to the desperate, the chancers, and the lost.<<else>><> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "market_2" time 0>><<audio "market_2" play>> <</timed>> <>You return to the night market, the smell of greed trapped under the patched canvas fighting in the tight space for dominance with the reek of desperation.<</if>> <<if $TradedOut is true>>You have tried to get what you can for yourself from this place and have already taken all that you will take.<<elseif $Goods is 0>>You have nothing you can offer this place. But perhaps you could attempt to [[beg]] for something? After all, greed is part of your domain.<<elseif $Goods is 1>>You have coins. Something you could use. Perhaps there is [[a bargain to be found]]?<<elseif $Goods is 2>>You have the earrings. Perhaps you could [[barter]] them for something truly valuable?<</if>><<if hasVisited("The butcher’s.") and $Signature is not true>> This could be a good place to [[get a signature|market signature]] for the butcher’s ritual.<</if>> You could just [[leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>The market is supposed to be a place of light, of the smell of crops, of talk, of community, of life. But here, in this town, it has become something undead, something which never sleeps. Crammed into a circular stone-walled close too small for itself, the coloured canvas-covered stalls are vacated by the farmers and craftsmen when the sun begins to turn the colour of blood in the western sky. That is when the usurers, pawnbrokers, and thieves move in behind them like cockroaches swarming through cracks. They lay out their wares and promises on tattered black silk and call out to the desperate, the chancers, and the lost.<<else>>You return to the night market, the smell of greed trapped under the patched canvas fighting in the tight space for dominance with the reek of desperation.<</if>> <</if>>

<<if hasVisited("For you to perform a ritual.") and $DeathsForgotten is not true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "manor_district_1" time 0>><<audio "manor_district_1" play>><</timed>>You make your way along the edges of wide streets, easily moving through this place where people habitually don’t see what they don’t want to. Most of the houses you pass have had all of their lights extinguished for the night, yet somehow the one you have been sent to find seems darker than the rest. Grime encrusts the corners of the windows, fogged glass showing nothing but wooden shutters beyond. Fallen roof tiles lie half buried in weed-filled flowerbeds. The black paint of the door and the gables has lost the gloss it once had: the light of the moon simply disappears where it strikes it. The house crouches in its own shadow. You slip the lock and it welcomes you in. [[Creep through the house, looking for the plant.]] [[Find the owner of the house and instruct him to bring you the plant.]]<<elseif $ManorSecret>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "manor_district_2" time 0>><<audio "manor_district_2" play>><</timed>>You come to the manor district in search of the rumoured ‘secret of the van Hessels’. Their estate is huge, sitting atop a small hill, a castle within a palace. You scope the area and decide to [[sneak in]] or [[not.|the town]]<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "manor_district_3" time 0>><<audio "manor_district_3" play>><</timed>>The manor district is not large, nor is it well populated, but navigating it does require skill. The streets are wide and the grounds of the mansions surround them on all four sides, meaning that the continuous shadows formed by each building abutting the next found everyone else in the town are broken here. And once you crack through the outside layer inhabited by the merely wealthy and reach the inner heart of the district, you have to contend with guard dogs, twenty-four-hour staff, and private security. Without a specific destination in mind, then, this is not the kind of place it is wise to explore without purpose. It would be better to [[go somewhere else|the town]] first.<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if hasVisited("For you to perform a ritual.") and $DeathsForgotten is not true>>You make your way along the edges of wide streets, easily moving through this place where people habitually don’t see what they don’t want to. Most of the houses you pass have had all of their lights extinguished for the night, yet somehow the one you have been sent to find seems darker than the rest. Grime encrusts the corners of the windows, fogged glass showing nothing but wooden shutters beyond. Fallen roof tiles lie half buried in weed-filled flowerbeds. The black paint of the door and the gables has lost the gloss it once had: the light of the moon simply disappears where it strikes it. The house crouches in its own shadow. You slip the lock and it welcomes you in.<<elseif $ManorSecret>>You come to the manor district in search of the rumoured ‘secret of the van Hessels’. Their estate is huge, sitting atop a small hill, a castle within a palace. You scope the area and decide to sneak in or not.<<else>>The manor district is not large, nor is it well populated, but navigating it does require skill. The streets are wide and the grounds of the mansions surround them on all four sides, meaning that the continuous shadows formed by each building abutting the next found everyone else in the town are broken here. And once you crack through the outside layer inhabited by the merely wealthy and reach the inner heart of the district, you have to contend with guard dogs, twenty-four-hour staff, and private security. Without a specific destination in mind, then, this is not the kind of place it is wise to explore without purpose. It would be better to go somewhere else first.<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_herbalist_1" time 0>><<audio "the_herbalist_1" play>><</timed>>The herbalist’s house sits at the end of an overlooked alley, abutting the town wall. In a sea of stone, wattle, and daub, a cabin made just of wood and thatch would stand out if it was not so well hidden. You have a natural sense for rot and decay. This building is old. You can see it in its sags, in its Thesean patchwork nature. But the thatch is just a few years old, the forest-green paint on the door is fresh and unpeeling, and the herb garden which surrounds three sides of the building is all freshly planted with neat fenced borders. The air is thick but fresh with the rich smells of the earth: smells of life, smells you will never naturally recognise. You walk under the faded painted sign, let yourself in through the unlocked door. The inside is even more patchwork than the outside. The walls are a collage of botanical sketches, pastoral scenes, carved and painted candleholders. The huge wooden table which dominates the space undulates with wood knots, old seams and the erosion of general wear. And the woman who sits at one end wears clothes that show the wear of many different seasons. She does not look up immediately, either accustomed to visitors at all hours of the day or simply beyond the point of caring. She finishes the delicate work she is doing, something with a flower and a glass vial, and stares up at you with milky cataract eyes. "Oh, hello," she says with a gasp. "Is this a dream?" [["Yes, this is a dream. One in which you shall help me by performing a ritual."|Joan 2]] [["No, I promise you, this is very much real life."|Joan 2]]<<elseif $DeathsForgotten is not true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_herbalist_2" time 0>><<audio "the_herbalist_2" play>><</timed>>"Oh, you are back," she says. There are dark circles under her eyes. She is tired, but you have the sense she is long used to that. "Do you have the Death’s Forgotten? Oh, no? Well, would you like some tea?" [[Leave.|the town]]<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_herbalist_3" time 0>><<audio "the_herbalist_3" play>><</timed>><<set $HR to true>>The herbalist smiles when you enter her house and place the clutch of Death’s Forgotten onto her stained tabletop. She picks them up carefully by the stems. "They’re delicate little things, and not particularly remarkable to look at. But here they are, as powerful as anything else in nature. "Everything has a role to play. Even me, even you." She turns to you, the skin around her old eyes wrinkled with a kind of impish cheekiness. "You don’t need to hear my lessons, do you? When someone finally comes to listen to me, it is a thing which doesn’t need my ken. Don’t worry, I can find it funny. What would I have learnt from life if I couldn’t find the joy in its darkness? "But I’m rambling. You want the ritual. Come, climb on top of the table. Do you want a cushion? I think it’s important that you’re comfortable." The place you are from is not a soft one. The worn wood has enough give for you. The ritual takes some time and you just watch. She does not speak, although she does occasionally hum or whistle or make another little sound to herself. She uses tools of metal and wood to dig seeds out of fruit, drill sap out of wood, coax pollen out of flowers, and milk venom out of leaves. She weighs and measures some, using old brass instruments and scratched glass. But other substances she simply examines, discarding parts according to some rubric you know she could not explain, but of which she is nonetheless master. She mixes and stirs, separates and sieves. Once she lights a fire to warm a blend of apple juice, oil, and the liquid which dripped from the petals of a great blue flower when crushed between two heavy slabs of wood, but otherwise she uses no flames. She rubs two pieces of sheep’s wool together and draws something out of a mixture with them, but whatever it is she takes, it is discarded. Eventually she is ready. She rests her hands on the table top and breathes deeply. For a moment, you think she may have fallen asleep, but then she raises her eyes to you. "I will give you something which contains the truth of the forest," she says, "because a person can tell themselves as many lies as they wish, but there will always be a part of their heart which knows they are nothing more and nothing less than an animal. Something which can share that truth with them is something which demands kinship. An animal’s trust. "When you face a creature with its hackles up, whether it is a beast or man or spirit, when you try to reason with it, or charm it, I suppose, then this potion will give you one more chance if you fail. Only once per being, but that should be enough, I think." She stands and walks around to you. "I shall let you rub it into your own skin. It may very well tingle. You may feel like something is crawling under your skin. It felt like worms, my first time. It is just life forces awakening. We all have roots, even if they are buried very deep. This will give them a chance to stretch." She begins to pour the concoction over your head. It does not tingle. It burns, like no fire has ever burnt. It strains to unmake you by making you something you were never meant to be. It cuts into you, trying to find the life which you do not have, to find the soul cast out and left to shrivel in darkness. The herbalist frowns when she sees you squirm and thrash, but she does not look surprised. Just saddened. Quiet, resigned, and melancholic. Eventually it is done and you can feel the truth of the woman’s words within your skin as she speaks them: "It worked. I can feel it in you. Whatever you were before, you have some nature in you now. At least for tonight." You climb from the table where you learnt the truth of agony and stand on her floor, stability slowly returning to your shaking legs. "I suppose you should be going now. Remember the old gods. I fear they have fallen even further than your kind." [[Leave the old woman.|the town]] [[Kill the herbalist.]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>The herbalist’s house sits at the end of an overlooked alley, abutting the town wall. In a sea of stone, wattle, and daub, a cabin made just of wood and thatch would stand out if it was not so well hidden. You have a natural sense for rot and decay. This building is old. You can see it in its sags, in its Thesean patchwork nature. But the thatch is just a few years old, the forest-green paint on the door is fresh and unpeeling, and the herb garden which surrounds three sides of the building is all freshly planted with neat fenced borders. The air is thick but fresh with the rich smells of the earth: smells of life, smells you will never naturally recognise. You walk under the faded painted sign, let yourself in through the unlocked door. The inside is even more patchwork than the outside. The walls are a collage of botanical sketches, pastoral scenes, carved and painted candleholders. The huge wooden table which dominates the space undulates with wood knots, old seams and the erosion of general wear. And the woman who sits at one end wears clothes that show the wear of many different seasons. She does not look up immediately, either accustomed to visitors at all hours of the day or simply beyond the point of caring. She finishes the delicate work she is doing, something with a flower and a glass vial, and stares up at you with milky cataract eyes. "Oh, hello," she says with a gasp. "Is this a dream?"<<elseif $DeathsForgotten is not true>>"Oh, you are back," she says. There are dark circles under her eyes. She is tired, but you have the sense she is long used to that. "Do you have the Death’s Forgotten? Oh, no? Well, would you like some tea?"<<else>>The herbalist smiles when you enter her house and place the clutch of Death’s Forgotten onto her stained tabletop. She picks them up carefully by the stems. "They’re delicate little things, and not particularly remarkable to look at. But here they are, as powerful as anything else in nature. "Everything has a role to play. Even me, even you." She turns to you, the skin around her old eyes wrinkled with a kind of impish cheekiness. "You don’t need to hear my lessons, do you? When someone finally comes to listen to me, it is a thing which doesn’t need my ken. Don’t worry, I can find it funny. What would I have learnt from life if I couldn’t find the joy in its darkness? "But I’m rambling. You want the ritual. Come, climb on top of the table. Do you want a cushion? I think it’s important that you’re comfortable." The place you are from is not a soft one. The worn wood has enough give for you. The ritual takes some time and you just watch. She does not speak, although she does occasionally hum or whistle or make another little sound to herself. She uses tools of metal and wood to dig seeds out of fruit, drill sap out of wood, coax pollen out of flowers, and milk venom out of leaves. She weighs and measures some, using old brass instruments and scratched glass. But other substances she simply examines, discarding parts according to some rubric you know she could not explain, but of which she is nonetheless master. She mixes and stirs, separates and sieves. Once she lights a fire to warm a blend of apple juice, oil, and the liquid which dripped from the petals of a great blue flower when crushed between two heavy slabs of wood, but otherwise she uses no flames. She rubs two pieces of sheep’s wool together and draws something out of a mixture with them, but whatever it is she takes, it is discarded. Eventually she is ready. She rests her hands on the table top and breathes deeply. For a moment, you think she may have fallen asleep, but then she raises her eyes to you. "I will give you something which contains the truth of the forest," she says, "because a person can tell themselves as many lies as they wish, but there will always be a part of their heart which knows they are nothing more and nothing less than an animal. Something which can share that truth with them is something which demands kinship. An animal’s trust. "When you face a creature with its hackles up, whether it is a beast or man or spirit, when you try to reason with it, or charm it, I suppose, then this potion will give you one more chance if you fail. Only once per being, but that should be enough, I think." She stands and walks around to you. "I shall let you rub it into your own skin. It may very well tingle. You may feel like something is crawling under your skin. It felt like worms, my first time. It is just life forces awakening. We all have roots, even if they are buried very deep. This will give them a chance to stretch." She begins to pour the concoction over your head. It does not tingle. It burns, like no fire has ever burnt. It strains to unmake you by making you something you were never meant to be. It cuts into you, trying to find the life which you do not have, to find the soul cast out and left to shrivel in darkness. The herbalist frowns when she sees you squirm and thrash, but she does not look surprised. Just saddened. Quiet, resigned, and melancholic. Eventually it is done and you can feel the truth of the woman’s words within your skin as she speaks them: "It worked. I can feel it in you. Whatever you were before, you have some nature in you now. At least for tonight." You climb from the table where you learnt the truth of agony and stand on her floor, stability slowly returning to your shaking legs. "I suppose you should be going now. Remember the old gods. I fear they have fallen even further than your kind."<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_butcher's_1" time 0>><<audio "the_butcher's_1" play>><</timed>>It is difficult to get past the smell of blood. You revel in its nostalgia for a moment before you allow yourself to dive into the undercurrents: animal waste, the very faint sweet beginnings of meat turning, charcoal, salt. You look around, at the deeply scarred and stained wooden counter, at the smudged glass of the display, at the glistening cuts of meat. You claw your way over the counter and into the back, across the mopped tiled floor, between the carcasses, the dead pig eyes staring down at that floor, at the grout which will never be free of the dark red stain of their blood. For a moment, in your mind, you hear their squealing, hear the thick muscled beasts throwing themselves at the walls and doors, squirming away from the knives. Then there is silence again, and darkness, and the opened, hollow carcasses. You miss your home. There are stairs leading up, at the back of the room. A faint glow comes down. You climb the stairs and as you rise new scents come to you, although the smells of death permeate every part of this building. Paper and ink, burning oil and wax, a non-paradoxical mix of hope and despondency. Someone sits at a desk, almost seeming to be waiting for you. They were writing something, a tattered quill in their thin fingers. Their long neck bends, their head cocked in a way that makes the light dance across the thin brass arms of their glasses. They look at you for a moment before they start to laugh, a dry sardonic chuckle which makes their apron, stiff with blood, twitch up and down. "Of course," they drawl, "there might as well be demons. Well, what can I do for you?" You look around the room. The lights, candles and a single lantern on the desk, just illuminate the shelves of books, crammed tight and balanced awkwardly on top of each other. Books on politics, economics, social theory. Some works on the occult, some poetry. You look back and see that the person has followed your glance. "A whole lot of truth. A whole lot of nothing. "I didn’t call you. I was almost desperate enough, but I couldn’t get over the … well, the perversion of it. Not the… Just asking for help, I suppose. It should be something I can do myself. "No chance you’re here to burn it all down, are you? Wondering if I’ll come and help light the torches? Finally put my mouth where my money is? "No, you’re right, that doesn’t make any sense." They look off to the side, and then back to you. "So?" [["Who are you?"]] [["If you perform a ritual of power for me, I will grant you favour."]] [["You will grant me a boon, or you will be destroyed."]]<<elseif $Signature>><<set $MR to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_butcher's_2" time 0>><<audio "the_butcher's_2" play>><</timed>>You return to the butcher’s shop, past the counter, through the inverted charnel forest and up the stairs. The butcher is waiting for you. "You have it then?" You present the document. They nod and stand. The spell is complicated but short; possibly one single run-on sentence. You feel no change within yourself when the butcher hands you back the piece of paper you brought them. The bottom eighth of it is covered by a heavy wax seal displaying a set of weighing scales. On one plate stands an angle, on the other stands you. Blink. On one a man, the other a woman. Blink. A fish and a bird. Blink. A tree and a book. Blink. "Just break the seal when you’re facing someone, or I suppose something, which you want to equalise with. "And I think that is our business concluded? Or was there something else you were going to demand of me?" [[Leave.|the town]] [[Kill the butcher.]]<<elseif not $Signature>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_butcher's_3" time 0>><<audio "the_butcher's_3" play>><</timed>>You return to the Butcher’s house. "Have you got the signature? "No? What, are you here to chat? Want to teach me the truths of the universe?" <<if not hasVisited("Truths of the universe")>>[["Yes."|Truths of the universe]] <</if>>[["No. I will be going now."|the town]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>> It is difficult to get past the smell of blood. You revel in its nostalgia for a moment before you allow yourself to dive into the undercurrents: animal waste, the very faint sweet beginnings of meat turning, charcoal, salt. You look around, at the deeply scarred and stained wooden counter, at the smudged glass of the display, at the glistening cuts of meat. You claw your way over the counter and into the back, across the mopped tiled floor, between the carcasses, the dead pig eyes staring down at that floor, at the grout which will never be free of the dark red stain of their blood. For a moment, in your mind, you hear their squealing, hear the thick muscled beasts throwing themselves at the walls and doors, squirming away from the knives. Then there is silence again, and darkness, and the opened, hollow carcasses. You miss your home. There are stairs leading up, at the back of the room. A faint glow comes down. You climb the stairs and as you rise new scents come to you, although the smells of death permeate every part of this building. Paper and ink, burning oil and wax, a non-paradoxical mix of hope and despondency. Someone sits at a desk, almost seeming to be waiting for you. They were writing something, a tattered quill in their thin fingers. Their long neck bends, their head cocked in a way that makes the light dance across the thin brass arms of their glasses. They look at you for a moment before they start to laugh, a dry sardonic chuckle which makes their apron, stiff with blood, twitch up and down. "Of course," they drawl, "there might as well be demons. Well, what can I do for you?" You look around the room. The lights, candles and a single lantern on the desk, just illuminate the shelves of books, crammed tight and balanced awkwardly on top of each other. Books on politics, economics, social theory. Some works on the occult, some poetry. You look back and see that the person has followed your glance. "A whole lot of truth. A whole lot of nothing. "I didn’t call you. I was almost desperate enough, but I couldn’t get over the … well, the perversion of it. Not the… Just asking for help, I suppose. It should be something I can do myself. "No chance you’re here to burn it all down, are you? Wondering if I’ll come and help light the torches? Finally put my mouth where my money is? "No, you’re right, that doesn’t make any sense." They look off to the side, and then back to you. "So?"<<elseif $Signature>>You return to the butcher’s shop, past the counter, through the inverted charnel forest and up the stairs. The butcher is waiting for you. "You have it then?" You present the document. They nod and stand. The spell is complicated but short; possibly one single run-on sentence. You feel no change within yourself when the butcher hands you back the piece of paper you brought them. The bottom eighth of it is covered by a heavy wax seal displaying a set of weighing scales. On one plate stands an angle, on the other stands you. Blink. On one a man, the other a woman. Blink. A fish and a bird. Blink. A tree and a book. Blink. "Just break the seal when you’re facing someone, or I suppose something, which you want to equalise with. "And I think that is our business concluded? Or was there something else you were going to demand of me?"<<elseif not $Signature>>You return to the Butcher’s house. "Have you got the signature? "No? What, are you here to chat? Want to teach me the truths of the universe?"<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_scribe_1" time 0>><<audio "the_scribe_1" play>><</timed>>The scribe lives in a garret in an expensive part of the town. You climb two flights of stairs and then slip into the small space. Neat bookshelves filled with leather-bound and gold-embossed books cover the far wall. Another holds wall shelves displaying china and porcelain and little glass statuary in quantities neither overwhelming nor sparse. The near wall holds the large window, the only one in the room, a circular portal to the stars hanging above a large, neat desk. The king-sized bed is against the final wall, the body of the scribe hardly visible beneath a heavy down duvet, his head sunk deep into his plump pillow. You move across the room, your footsteps muted by the thick bear-hide rug which barely fits in the space left empty by the desk and the bed. The man snores lightly but sleeps deeply and you have to shake him before he starts upright. His eyes are wide, the panic of suddenly awakening quickly replaced by the fear the sight of you induces. You have a pillow over his face before he can start screaming. You hold him down while he writhes, only releasing him once you know that his fear of your obvious physical superiority will keep him in check. His last act of resistance upon the pillow being lifted is to cross himself, but when you remain unflinchingly corporeal he thrusts his back against the wall and blubbers out: "Oh God, oh God I have sinned, oh God I repent, I repent!" [["Do not ask for God’s forgiveness. Beg for mine."]] [["If you wish to repent, you will listen. I will tell you how."]]<<elseif $Crucifix>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_scribe_2" time 0>><<audio "the_scribe_2" play>><</timed>><<set $SR to true>>The scribe greets you like a recurring nightmare. He has not moved from his bed, but you know he has not slept. "The crucifix? The guarantee for my soul? Do you have it?" You throw it across the room and he scurries after it, a rat grubbing for cheese. He looks at it with sad eyes. He opens his mouth as if to ask a question, as if he is sitting with a man and not a monster. And then he remembers and the cold fear burns away the nostalgic warmth. Fear trumps regret. "I’ll do what you want. But that’s it. After that, I burn all my texts. I’ll go back to the monastery. I’ll save my soul." You say nothing. You will do nothing to stop him. After all, it is only the very rare soul which needs any infernal help to reach your master’s hall. He goes to his bookshelf and begins to pull books down. The secret compartment he’s built into the wall is well hidden, even you would have had difficulty spotting it. From it he pulls a number of large books and scrolls. He unrolls a number of the scrolls, checking back and forth, shaking and scratching his head. Eventually he seems satisfied and he moves to the centre of the room, where he proceeds to empty inkwell after inkwell onto the floor, brushing the black liquid into the shape of a circle encompassed by a star. He indicates for you to sit inside, then begins to read in a faltering voice. It takes him multiple attempts to get it right. “O thou great powerful governor Amaimon, who reigneth exalted in the power of the only El above all spirits in the kingdoms of the East, I invoke and move thee in the mighty names of God, who cast thee down from Heaven, thou and the spirits of darkness. Bring your power, I say, unto this spirit, that it may know the great darkness and cunning obscurity of your almighty dominion!” You feel nothing. Yet somehow you know it has worked through that very nothingness. The absence. The non-existence of a thing. "I’ve cast a rite of shadow and secrecy," the scribe is saying, "I’ve used up the last of my credit with the dark places to tell them that you are of their kind. If you fight and you take a step back into the shadows, those shadows will give you an extra chance if your adversary sees through your ruse. "And I’m done. I have cut my ties with the dark and given them to you. I will live in the light of the Lord now. And you will leave. You have what I promised. Go." You turn to the young man and the huge book in his hand seems to droop. He squeaks. "Please." [[Do as he asks and leave.|the town]] [[Kill the scribe.]]<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_scribe_3" time 0>><<audio "the_scribe_3" play>><</timed>>"Do you have the crucifix?" the man squeaks from the bed. You have nothing to show him. "Then either kill me or come back with it. I won’t jeopardise my soul!" [[Leave.|the town]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>> The scribe lives in a garret in an expensive part of the town. You climb two flights of stairs and then slip into the small space. Neat bookshelves filled with leather-bound and gold-embossed books cover the far wall. Another holds wall shelves displaying china and porcelain and little glass statuary in quantities neither overwhelming nor sparse. The near wall holds the large window, the only one in the room, a circular portal to the stars hanging above a large, neat desk. The king-sized bed is against the final wall, the body of the scribe hardly visible beneath a heavy down duvet, his head sunk deep into his plump pillow. You move across the room, your footsteps muted by the thick bear-hide rug which barely fits in the space left empty by the desk and the bed. The man snores lightly but sleeps deeply and you have to shake him before he starts upright. His eyes are wide, the panic of suddenly awakening quickly replaced by the fear the sight of you induces. You have a pillow over his face before he can start screaming. You hold him down while he writhes, only releasing him once you know that his fear of your obvious physical superiority will keep him in check. His last act of resistance upon the pillow being lifted is to cross himself, but when you remain unflinchingly corporeal he thrusts his back against the wall and blubbers out: "Oh God, oh God I have sinned, oh God I repent, I repent!"<<elseif $Crucifix>> The scribe greets you like a recurring nightmare. He has not moved from his bed, but you know he has not slept. "The crucifix? The guarantee for my soul? Do you have it?" You throw it across the room and he scurries after it, a rat grubbing for cheese. He looks at it with sad eyes. He opens his mouth as if to ask a question, as if he is sitting with a man and not a monster. And then he remembers and the cold fear burns away the nostalgic warmth. Fear trumps regret. "I’ll do what you want. But that’s it. After that, I burn all my texts. I’ll go back to the monastery. I’ll save my soul." You say nothing. You will do nothing to stop him. After all, it is only the very rare soul which needs any infernal help to reach your master’s hall. He goes to his bookshelf and begins to pull books down. The secret compartment he’s built into the wall is well hidden, even you would have had difficulty spotting it. From it he pulls a number of large books and scrolls. He unrolls a number of the scrolls, checking back and forth, shaking and scratching his head. Eventually he seems satisfied and he moves to the centre of the room, where he proceeds to empty inkwell after inkwell onto the floor, brushing the black liquid into the shape of a circle encompassed by a star. He indicates for you to sit inside, then begins to read in a faltering voice. It takes him multiple attempts to get it right. “O thou great powerful governor Amaimon, who reigneth exalted in the power of the only El above all spirits in the kingdoms of the East, I invoke and move thee in the mighty names of God, who cast thee down from Heaven, thou and the spirits of darkness. Bring your power, I say, unto this spirit, that it may know the great darkness and cunning obscurity of your almighty dominion!” You feel nothing. Yet somehow you know it has worked through that very nothingness. The absence. The non-existence of a thing. "I’ve cast a rite of shadow and secrecy," the scribe is saying, "I’ve used up the last of my credit with the dark places to tell them that you are of their kind. If you fight and you take a step back into the shadows, those shadows will give you an extra chance if your adversary sees through your ruse. "And I’m done. I have cut my ties with the dark and given them to you. I will live in the light of the Lord now. And you will leave. You have what I promised. Go." You turn to the young man and the huge book in his hand seems to droop. He squeaks. "Please."<<else>>"Do you have the crucifix?" the man squeaks from the bed. You have nothing to show him. "Then either kill me or come back with it. I won’t jeopardise my soul!"<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_blacksmith_1" time 0>><<audio "the_blacksmith_1" play>><</timed>>The blacksmith’s forge smells of coal. It is a smell you associate with screams and boiling flesh. But the coal here is cold. You pass the hearth, the bellows, and the anvil to the thick stone wall which divides the smith’s workspace from his home. You make your way inside the squat building, into the bare single room beyond. The remains of a burnt dinner congeal and crisp on a single metal plate in front of a single chair at a table large enough for two. Bottles line one wall, standing in a broken rank. A man with soot stained hands and uncombed hair sleeps on one side of a double bed. He wakes with a start when you prod him, but while you can see the fear and shock in his eyes as he beholds you, he does not scream. Bravery or resignation. You cannot make out which. "Devil," he whispers in a rusty voice. [["Do you know the dark arts?"]] [["Mortal, you shall prepare a ritual for my glorification."]]<<elseif $barbara.Status is not "Dead">><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_blacksmith_2" time 0>><<audio "the_blacksmith_2" play>><</timed>>The blacksmith waits in the cold of the forge. He shakes his head when you approach. "I will know when it is done. I will feel it when Barbara Seaberry is at rest. It isn’t done." <<if $BabyBones is true>>[["I have the body of your son. I think you should bring it to her."]] <</if>>[[Leave.|the town]]<<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_blacksmith_3" time 0>><<audio "the_blacksmith_3" play>><</timed>><<set $BR to true>>The blacksmith stands in the shadows cast by the glowing embers of the hearth. He nods when you approach. He knows that it is done. He pumps the bellows and the flames jump up, hot and tempting. He prepares tools, most mundane, some heretical. Once he is ready he turns to you, offers his hand. You take it and he throws you into the fire. It roars around you, hungry, blinding. Your skin turns black. The smith pumps the bellows and air rushes in, cooling for just a moment before the heat rises stronger than before. You push your claws into the coals, feel the edges of you and it fade as you melt into each other. Then you are pulled out, rough and sudden and plunged into water, roiling and boiling around you so that when you are pulled back out you barely feel wet. You are beaten, hammered, folded in on yourself, purged of impurities. When the smith takes a staggering step back, you have been remade. "When you fight, you can take a blow for nothing." He says. "The elements will bear the burden." He stands, sweating in the heat. His face is blank. [[Leave.|the town]] [[Kill him.|Kill the blacksmith]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>The blacksmith’s forge smells of coal. It is a smell you associate with screams and boiling flesh. But the coal here is cold. You pass the hearth, the bellows, and the anvil to the thick stone wall which divides the smith’s workspace from his home. You make your way inside the squat building, into the bare single room beyond. The remains of a burnt dinner congeal and crisp on a single metal plate in front of a single chair at a table large enough for two. Bottles line one wall, standing in a broken rank. A man with soot stained hands and uncombed hair sleeps on one side of a double bed. He wakes with a start when you prod him, but while you can see the fear and shock in his eyes as he beholds you, he does not scream. Bravery or resignation. You cannot make out which. "Devil," he whispers in a rusty voice.<<elseif $barbara.Status is not "Dead">>The blacksmith waits in the cold of the forge. He shakes his head when you approach. "I will know when it is done. I will feel it when Barbara Seaberry is at rest. It isn’t done."<<else>>The blacksmith stands in the shadows cast by the glowing embers of the hearth. He nods when you approach. He knows that it is done. He pumps the bellows and the flames jump up, hot and tempting. He prepares tools, most mundane, some heretical. Once he is ready he turns to you, offers his hand. You take it and he throws you into the fire. It roars around you, hungry, blinding. Your skin turns black. The smith pumps the bellows and air rushes in, cooling for just a moment before the heat rises stronger than before. You push your claws into the coals, feel the edges of you and it fade as you melt into each other. Then you are pulled out, rough and sudden and plunged into water, roiling and boiling around you so that when you are pulled back out you barely feel wet. You are beaten, hammered, folded in on yourself, purged of impurities. When the smith takes a staggering step back, you have been remade. "When you fight, you can take a blow for nothing." He says. "The elements will bear the burden." He stands, sweating in the heat. His face is blank.<</if>> <</if>>

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_cemetery" time 0>><<audio "the_cemetery" play>><</timed>><</if>> The cemetery seems to be smaller than a town of this size would need. Or perhaps you do not fully appreciate the meaning of mortality. How many deaths actually merit respect. There is nothing to be found here simply by walking. You must look for a specific grave or crypt. You should provide a full name, first name and surname. <<textbox "$grave" "">> [[Look for the grave.]] [[Leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> The cemetery seems to be smaller than a town of this size would need. Or perhaps you do not fully appreciate the meaning of mortality. How many deaths actually merit respect. There is nothing to be found here simply by walking. You must look for a specific grave or crypt. Sometimes you’ll need a full name. F-for the game, you’ll need a full name. But … if there’s a name you’ve noticed. Or a … role in the … metanarrative. You could put that. If you wanted. If you’re curious. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "go_to_castle" time 0>><<audio "go_to_castle" play>><</timed>> You feel something tugging at you. Are you sure? When you go to the castle, you cannot come back. [[Stay in the town.|the town]] [[Continue to the castle.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You feel something tugging at you. Are you sure? When you go to the castle, you cannot come back. <</if>>

<><<set $neophyte = { Name: "The Neophyte Witch Hunter", Attack: 5, Guard: 7, Health: 8, Perception: 3, Resistance: 3, Status: "Alive", }>> <<if $BrokenWeapons is true>><<set $neophyte.Attack = 4>><<set $neophyte.Guard = 6>><</if>> <<if $SpiltWater is true>><<set $neophyte.Attack = 3>><<set $neophyte.Guard = 5>><</if>> <<initiate>> <<set $EnCounter to true>> <> You are darting from one side of a dark road to the other when a figure steps into your shadowed path. <<if $BrokenWeapons is true>>He holds a butchers knife inexpertly in one hand, holding it too firmly, the grip of a man used to a heavier weapon. <<else>>He holds a shaking sword in his sweaty hand. <</if>>His uniform is neat and trim, the leather and black wool of the Witch Hunters on fastidious display. <<if $SpiltWater is not true>>A display not complete, of course, without a vial of holy water on his belt.<<else>>The only problem with the image, in all other ways save his poorly disguised look of fear, is the empty slot on his belt which should hold several vials of holy water.<</if>> "Stop, demon!" the boy<<dispstats $neophyte>> says. You do not stop. Instead you crouch, ready to fight. "In the name of the Lord, I will unmake you!" [[Careful attack|CA: neophyte]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: neophyte]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: neophyte]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: neophyte]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: neophyte]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<careful $neophyte>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $neophyte.Status is "Dead">>Your teeth release their grip on the man’s throat. He will not bother you again. [[Where to next?|the town]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter’s<<dispstats $neophyte>> eyes are wide with panic, but he does not break. [[Careful attack|CA: neophyte]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: neophyte]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: neophyte]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: neophyte]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: neophyte]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $neophyte>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $neophyte.Status is "Dead">>Your teeth release their grip on the man’s throat. He will not bother you again. [[Where to next?|the town]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter’s<<dispstats $neophyte>> eyes are wide with panic, but he does not break. [[Careful attack|CA: neophyte]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: neophyte]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: neophyte]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: neophyte]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: neophyte]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $neophyte>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The boy’s<<dispstats $neophyte>> face scrunches as if he is about to weep, but with a little roar and a prayer he clears them. [[Careful attack|CA: neophyte]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: neophyte]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: neophyte]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: neophyte]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: neophyte]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $neophyte>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter’s<<dispstats $neophyte>> eyes are wide with panic, but he does not break. [[Careful attack|CA: neophyte]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: neophyte]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: neophyte]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: neophyte]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: neophyte]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $neophyte>> The boy<<dispstats $neophyte>> shouts in shock. "What have you done! Foul beast, what have you done!" Your Manifest is now $Manifest [[Careful attack|CA: neophyte]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: neophyte]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: neophyte]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: neophyte]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<><<set $witchhunter = { Name: "The Witch Hunter", Attack: 7, Guard: 8, Health: 10, Perception: 4, Resistance: 4, Status: "Alive", }>> <<if $BrokenWeapons is true>><<set $witchhunter.Attack = 6>><<set $witchhunter.Guard = 7>><</if>> <<if $SpiltWater is true>><<set $witchhunter.Attack = 4>><<set $witchhunter.Guard = 6>><</if>> <<set $EnCounter to true>> <<initiate>> <> You have just dropped from a rooftop when you hear the sound of running feet coming swiftly towards you. You look around but your ambusher knows that they have you cornered. They must have been tracking you as you made your way across the rooftops. The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhunter>> comes round round a corner is a cloud of dust. Her boots are splashed with mud and her gloves are creased with the marks of heavy use. "Got you," she smiles as she draws <<if $BrokenWeapons is true>>a scrappy looking broad sword<<else>>an elegant fencing blade<</if>> from her belt<<if $SpiltWater is true>>, a belt notably lacking any vials of holy water<</if>>. You have, obviously, been sloppy. But there is no point dwelling on that now. It is time to fight. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhunter]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhunter]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhunter]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhunter]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhunter]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<careful $witchhunter>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $witchhunter.Status is "Dead">>The Witch Hunter pirouettes. You hold out a claw and skin them like an apple. They lie choking on blood, quivering hands feeling out the raw strips where skin used to be. They’ll die, but there is no point in staying around and watching. You have [[places to be.|the town]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhunter>> smiles and twirls her weapon in her hand. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhunter]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhunter]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhunter]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhunter]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhunter]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $witchhunter>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $witchhunter.Status is "Dead">>The Witch Hunter pirouettes. You hold out a claw and skin them like an apple. They lie choking on blood, quivering hands feeling out the raw strips where skin used to be. They’ll die, but there is no point in staying around and watching. You have [[places to be.|the town]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhunter>> smiles and twirls her weapon in her hand. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhunter]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhunter]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhunter]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhunter]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhunter]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $witchhunter>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhunter>> taps her hat and sketches a little bow, then snaps back to attention. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhunter]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhunter]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhunter]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhunter]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhunter]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $witchhunter>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhunter>> smiles and twirls her weapon in her hand. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhunter]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhunter]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhunter]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhunter]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhunter]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $witchhunter>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhunter>> laughs. "Oh ho ho! Clever, but not clever enough! I know your tricks, demon!" Your Manifest is now $Manifest [[Careful attack|CA: witchhunter]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhunter]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhunter]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhunter]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<><<set $witchhuntercap = { Name: "The Witch Hunter Captain", Attack: 8, Guard: 8, Health: 12, Perception: 4, Resistance: 7, Status: "Alive", }>> <<if $BrokenWeapons is true>><<set $witchhunter.Attack = 7>><<set $witchhunter.Guard = 7>><</if>> <<if $SpiltWater is true>><<set $witchhunter.Attack = 5>><<set $witchhunter.Guard = 6>><</if>> <<set $EnCounter to true>> <<initiate>> <> You are hiding deep in the shadow of a doorway, considering your next move, when a man appears in the light. Tall, his goatee flecked with white. A capotain hat, brown leather armour, faded black wool shirt. "You have made our town your playground this night, demon," the Witch Hunter Captain<<dispstats $witchhuntercap>> says, "but in the name of the Lord, I will end that tonight. For if I cannot, then no-one in this corrupt cesspool of a city can." <<if $BrokenWeapons is true>>His weapon is a crude, improvised cudgel<<else>>He holds a wicked looking mace in his hand<</if>>, but <<if $SpiltWater is true>>you are relieved to see that, like the others, he has no holy water.<<else>>it is the holy water on his belt which you fear the most.<</if>> [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntercap]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntercap]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntercap]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntercap]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntercap]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<careful $witchhuntercap>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $witchhuntercap.Status is "Dead">>The Witch Hunter dies slowly, but with dignity. Wincing, but bearing the pain. A little workman’s prayer, then eyes open, looking at the stars. [[No point waiting around.|the town]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhuntercap>> spits and flexes the fingers of his off hand. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntercap]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntercap]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntercap]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntercap]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntercap]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $witchhuntercap>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $witchhuntercap.Status is "Dead">>The Witch Hunter dies slowly, but with dignity. Wincing, but bearing the pain. A little workman’s prayer, then eyes open, looking at the stars. [[No point waiting around.|the town]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhuntercap>> spits and flexes the fingers off his off hand. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntercap]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntercap]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntercap]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntercap]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntercap]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $witchhuntercap>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhuntercap>> shakes his head ruefully. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntercap]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntercap]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntercap]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntercap]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntercap]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $witchhuntercap>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhuntercap>> breathes heavily but holds his ground. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntercap]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntercap]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntercap]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntercap]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntercap]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $witchhuntercap>> The Witch Hunter<<dispstats $witchhuntercap>> curses, a deep buried rage cracking through a mask long accustomed to stoicism. "I will not be corrupted, demon! I will not be brought down to the level of this city! I will not fall to the greed of my superior or the heresy of the Archpatriarch! I have faith, demon! I will not be like you!" Your Manifest is now $Manifest [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntercap]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntercap]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntercap]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntercap]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<><<set $mob = { Name: "The mob", Attack: 2, Guard: 9, Health: 20, Perception: 5, Resistance: 2, Status: "Alive", }>> <<set $EnCounter to true>> <<initiate>> <> The town square is a large open space, which would generally make it the kind of place you would usually avoid, but it is the hub around which the rest of the town is built, so you have found yourself moving along its edges many times already this night. Each time it has been dark and quiet, with nothing but a few drunks to offer any obstacle. But now it is bright, lively, and filled with anger. A man stands precariously on the plinth of the giant statue of the Archpatriarch. He is addressing the crowd, pouring rage on rage. "Are we going to let this monster hunt our women and slaughter our children? The Witch Hunters have failed, but we won’t! We’ll find the creature, however long it takes, however well it hides, and-" "I found it!" A young man holding both a torch and a pitchfork is pointing directly at you. The mob, an entity more often than not a tool for your master, turns towards you. Gather enough fear together and it metabolises into rage. A thirst for destruction. Gather enough sparks together and the fire will catch. All it needs is fuel. It will find it wherever it can, but it has preferences. And right now, you are the most fertile fuel in sight. With a roar of pre-emptive triumph the mass surges forward. Peer pressure has overridden survival instinct. You’ll have no choice but to fight this mob<<dispstats $mob>> of sleep deprived and drunk farmers and labourers. [[Careful attack|CA: mob]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: mob]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: mob]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: mob]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: mob]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<careful $mob>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $mob.Status is "Dead">>A man falls limp, another screams, a third vomits from fear the moment before you cut his leg off at the knee. Others see and you watch as the momentum shifts and each person slowly remembers that they are an individual, a mortal who is very capable of dying here tonight. And then, as one, with no audible communication, they break and scatter. You do not hunt them down. They will not be back tonight. And you have [[business to complete.|the town]]<<else>> The mob<<dispstats $mob>> roils, shouts, jeers, the men who make it up moving in and out of almost close enough to strike. [[Careful attack|CA: mob]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: mob]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: mob]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: mob]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: mob]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $mob>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $mob.Status is "Dead">>A man falls limp, another screams, a third vomits from fear the moment before you cut his leg off at the knee. Others see and you watch as the momentum shifts and each person slowly remembers that they are an individual, a mortal who is very capable of dying here tonight. And then, as one, with no audible communication, they break and scatter. You do not hunt them down. They will not be back tonight. And you have [[business to complete.|the town]]<<else>> The mob<<dispstats $mob>> roils, shouts, jeers, the men who make it up moving in and out of almost close enough to strike. [[Careful attack|CA: mob]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: mob]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: mob]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: mob]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: mob]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $mob>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> Some of the men within the mob<<dispstats $mob>> push ever so slightly back, like a wave retreating back into the sea (which is a thing you have seen, although neither the waves nor the sea were made of water). But even if the tide is going out, another wave still rolls forward, and the fight continues. [[Careful attack|CA: mob]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: mob]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: mob]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: mob]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: mob]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $mob>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The mob<<dispstats $mob>> roils, shouts, jeers, the men who make it up moving in and out of almost close enough to strike. [[Careful attack|CA: mob]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: mob]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: mob]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: mob]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: mob]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $mob>> The mob is one entity. It has made itself so, its members having usurped the control of their bodies to the gestalt. It is, in other words, fair game. Flames shoot from one man’s mouth. Another sprouts horns from his head, the growth pushing his brains out to messily splatter against the back of the man ahead of him. Another grows a forked tongue and slithers away down a sewer grate. But, while changed, the organism which is the mob<<dispstats $mob>> fights on. Your Manifest is now $Manifest [[Careful attack|CA: mob]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: mob]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: mob]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: mob]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "continue_to_castle" time 0>><<audio "continue_to_castle" play>><</timed>> The castle, a fortified palace, ostensibly dedicated to the glory of your divine enemy, juts out of the central hill around which the rest of the city sprawls like a stain. In the dead of night, you had expected somewhere quiet. Or, perhaps, you had expected a hypocrisy, the lights and shadows and sounds and whispers of late night sin. Something debauched, a society so disconnected from all around it that it did not notice the comings and goings of the sun. What you find is something different, if not completely something else. The courtyard is packed with people, standing, sitting, leaning. Shivering under thick woollen cloaks, or simply showing flesh turned blue by the cold. The people are still, the kind of stillness which only resignation can bring. Those in the centre of the mass of humanity look down at the dirty cobbles, while those at the back and the front watch the rank of doors cut into the face of the castle, a row of wooden teeth which infrequently open to disgorge a peasant or swallow another. No one looks behind, no one will admit that defeat. You would have very little difficulty sneaking around the edge of the crowd, but that will not get you into the castle, get you through one of the doors. [[Sneak through as a shadow, a gust of wind, when a door next opens.]] [[Approach one of the petitioners at the front and make a deal for their spot.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The castle, a fortified palace, ostensibly dedicated to the glory of your divine enemy, juts out of the central hill around which the rest of the city sprawls like a stain. In the dead of night, you had expected somewhere quiet. Or, perhaps, you had expected a hypocrisy, the lights and shadows and sounds and whispers of late night sin. Something debauched, a society so disconnected from all around it that it did not notice the comings and goings of the sun. What you find is something different, if not completely something else. The courtyard is packed with people, standing, sitting, leaning. Shivering under thick woollen cloaks, or simply showing flesh turned blue by the cold. The people are still, the kind of stillness which only resignation can bring. Those in the centre of the mass of humanity look down at the dirty cobbles, while those at the back and the front watch the rank of doors cut into the face of the castle, a row of wooden teeth which infrequently open to disgorge a peasant or swallow another. No one looks behind, no one will admit that defeat. You would have very little difficulty sneaking around the edge of the crowd, but that will not get you into the castle, get you through one of the doors. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "sneak_across_the" time 0>><<audio "sneak_across_the" play>> <</timed>> <> <<if visited() is 1>>Rolling Obscure... <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled 10. You have Succeeded <<timed 1.5s>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>>You successfully sneak across the empty hall and make it into the small records room. The shelves are stacked with books and scrolls. There are the normal citizen records which you would expect, as well as books on the [[occult and theology]], and lithographs displaying good martial practices and positions. But one book catches your eye. It lies open on the desk in the centre of the room. You read the page, written in a tight, scrawling hand in red ink: Suspected heretics: Mik Bakran – Butcher Joan Clemmings – Herbalist Pieter Harkspier – Scribe Martyn Cottor – Blacksmith Do you wish to [[rip the page from the book and burn it?]] Or simply [[leave the room?|The Witch Hunters' base.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Rolling Obscure... You have rolled 10. You have Succeeded You successfully sneak across the empty hall and make it into the small records room. The shelves are stacked with books and scrolls. There are the normal citizen records which you would expect, as well as books on the occult and theology, and lithographs displaying good martial practices and positions. But one book catches your eye. It lies open on the desk in the centre of the room. You read the page, written in a tight, scrawling hand in red ink: Suspected heretics: Mik Bakran – Butcher Joan Clemmings – Herbalist Pieter Harkspier – Scribe Martyn Cottor – Blacksmith Do you wish to rip the page from the book and burn it? Or simply leave the room? <</if>>

Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 9>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "armory" time 0>><<audio "armory" play>>You dart into the exposed space of the hallway. You hear movement above you and behind the doors you pass. But nothing beneath you. You dart through the hornets’ nest and sink into the cool, dark cellar. Your mind tingles, your eyes water. You taste oblivion on your tongue. There are swords, crossbows, unlit torches, pitchforks, mannequins dressed in thick leather armour. But you find it difficult to focus on any of it. Because at the far end of the dark stone room are the barrels. They sit like a frozen army, squat and wide, three deep against the back wall. Holy water. One of the barrels must have its seal broken, because the air is rich with it. You are alone down here. There is no-one to stop you from tipping each barrel and spilling its contents into the dirt. But is it worth the risk of splashes, of the blessings thickening in the air? You are alone and you are underground. This is your place. The risk is small, but it is there. Or will you simply sabotage the conventional weapons (cut the strings of the crossbows, break the tips of the swords, slash the armour), while leaving the Witch Hunters with access to your greatest weakness? [[Spill the holy water.]] [[Break the conventional weapons.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion + 1>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>You get spotted, a bunch of witchhunters come after you. You can’t tru that again. [[the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 9>> You dart into the exposed space of the hallway. You hear movement above you and behind the doors you pass. But nothing beneath you. You dart through the hornets’ nest and sink into the cool, dark cellar. Your mind tingles, your eyes water. You taste oblivion on your tongue. There are swords, crossbows, unlit torches, pitchforks, mannequins dressed in thick leather armour. But you find it difficult to focus on any of it. Because at the far end of the dark stone room are the barrels. They sit like a frozen army, squat and wide, three deep against the back wall. Holy water. One of the barrels must have its seal broken, because the air is rich with it. You are alone down here. There is no-one to stop you from tipping each barrel and spilling its contents into the dirt. But is it worth the risk of splashes, of the blessings thickening in the air? You are alone and you are underground. This is your place. The risk is small, but it is there. Or will you simply sabotage the conventional weapons (cut the strings of the crossbows, break the tips of the swords, slash the armour), while leaving the Witch Hunters with access to your greatest weakness?<</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 13>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome.<</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion + 2>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome.<</timed>><</if>> <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_across_hall_1" time 0>><<audio "sneak_across_hall_1" play>>You dart to the stairs, creep up one floor and pause. You hear steps coming down. You dart forward into the hall of the first floor, listening hard. Left is louder than right, so you dart into a room on the right... Straight into the middle of a group of Witch Hunters. Those soldiers who have devoted their lives and souls to fighting your Master and his servants. You look at their faces, the faces of the arch enemy. They seem so calm, so innocent, so human. Some eyes run back and forth beneath eyelids, but most of them appear to sleep untroubled. You listen over the snores as the footsteps approach, skim pass the door behind which you hide, and recede down the hall. You slide back out and slither up the stairs. The hall up here is dark, the smoking echoes of light dying at the tips of just extinguished candle wicks. No-one and no thing challenges you as you approach the thick iron reinforced door of the Witch Hunter Captain’s office. You would have a great deal of trouble breaking through this guard. But a lock is, in your masterful fingers, a lock. Just a matter of time. And it appears time is on your side. The lock clicks and you push the great door open on well-oiled hinges. The room beyond is a cell. A carefully constructed image of modesty. The effect is so powerful there is a good chance that its usual occupant believes his own illusion. A desk faces the door, a small bed rests in a corner and the only window is barely larger than a man’s hand. Both of the chairs, one on either side of the desk, look as if they would be uncomfortable. The contents of the desk, which, barring the bed and chairs, are synonymous with the contents of the room, call into question the necessity of the door. You find only one thing which looks of any importance. But it is of importance. Why, you do not know, but on some level, on some level higher than the logic that this well-secured room must contain something important, you know that it is. A scrap of paper with a straight line drawn across it, with the words "Primary" and an arrow pointing upwards written beneath it. You should take note of this. Primary: line forward. <<if $r > 13>><<timed 145s>><<audio "sneak_across_hall_SUC" time 0>><<audio "sneak_across_hall_SUC" play>><</timed>>There is nothing else here. As per the laws of dramatic tension, the journey out of the base is easier than the journey in and you find yourself safely back out [[on the street.|the town]]<<else>><<timed 145s>><<audio "sneak_across_hall_FAI" time 0>><<audio "sneak_across_hall_FAI" play>><</timed>>There is nothing more here, so you leave the room, letting the door close behind you. Letting the door slam behind you. Why does it always feel like getting out should be easier than getting in? You hear the sounds of a building rousing itself, shaking off the complacence of the night. You run. You dash. You move so fast down the stairs that it would be fairer to say that you fell rather than ran down them. But still, you are seen. Of course you are seen. Witch Hunters dart from their dormitories, from their prayer rooms, from their penance chambers. They pour down after you, a wave of brown leather, gleaming crosses, and hard faces. But you have the swiftness of a crow and the cunning of a snake. The shadows are your native land and while they fumble to light lanterns and torches, you are already gone, a wisp in the night. But they know you are here. They will be looking. [[The town|the town]], already hostile, has just become more dangerous.<</if>> <</timed>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> You dart to the stairs, creep up one floor and pause. You hear steps coming down. You dart forward into the hall of the first floor, listening hard. Left is louder than right, so you dart into a room on the right... Straight into the middle of a group of Witch Hunters. Those soldiers who have devoted their lives and souls to fighting your Master and his servants. You look at their faces, the faces of the arch enemy. They seem so calm, so innocent, so human. Some eyes run back and forth beneath eyelids, but most of them appear to sleep untroubled. You listen over the snores as the footsteps approach, skim pass the door behind which you hide, and recede down the hall. You slide back out and slither up the stairs. The hall up here is dark, the smoking echoes of light dying at the tips of just extinguished candle wicks. No-one and no thing challenges you as you approach the thick iron reinforced door of the Witch Hunter Captain’s office. You would have a great deal of trouble breaking through this guard. But a lock is, in your masterful fingers, a lock. Just a matter of time. And it appears time is on your side. The lock clicks and you push the great door open on well-oiled hinges. The room beyond is a cell. A carefully constructed image of modesty. The effect is so powerful there is a good chance that its usual occupant believes his own illusion. A desk faces the door, a small bed rests in a corner and the only window is barely larger than a man’s hand. Both of the chairs, one on either side of the desk, look as if they would be uncomfortable. The contents of the desk, which, barring the bed and chairs, are synonymous with the contents of the room, call into question the necessity of the door. You find only one thing which looks of any importance. But it is of importance. Why, you do not know, but on some level, on some level higher than the logic that this well-secured room must contain something important, you know that it is. A scrap of paper with a straight line drawn across it, with the words "Primary" and an arrow pointing upwards written beneath it. You should take note of this. Primary: line forward. <<if $r > 13>>There is nothing else here. As per the laws of dramatic tension, the journey out of the base is easier than the journey in and you find yourself safely back out on the street.<<else>>There is nothing more here, so you leave the room, letting the door close behind you. Letting the door slam behind you. Why does it always feel like getting out should be easier than getting in? You hear the sounds of a building rousing itself, shaking off the complacence of the night. You run. You dash. You move so fast down the stairs that it would be fairer to say that you fell rather than ran down them. But still, you are seen. Of course you are seen. Witch Hunters dart from their dormitories, from their prayer rooms, from their penance chambers. They pour down after you, a wave of brown leather, gleaming crosses, and hard faces. But you have the swiftness of a crow and the cunning of a snake. The shadows are your native land and while they fumble to light lanterns and torches, you are already gone, a wisp in the night. But they know you are here. They will be looking. The town, already hostile, has just become more dangerous.<</if>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "theology_and_occult" time 0>><<audio "theology_and_occult" play>> <</timed>> <> <<return>> <<if $HoH is true>> I think I’ve hidden this one quite well. Because it doesn’t really matter. Because I think I want to sort through something. Why a demon? Why the occult and not God? And yet, why a demon and not witchcraft, or tarot, or fucking Cthulhu. Why turn to a demon? Two parts. A contradiction. Two parts. Why the occult? Why not go to church? Because it doesn’t work? Because it’s too late to believe, for me. Britain’s almost half atheist, it shouldn’t be a shock that I was raised thinking it’s all nonsense. But that’s not it. I want to believe something. Otherwise ‘why occult’ wouldn’t make any sense either. I think it’s because God isn’t magic. God is Sunday school and church fetes and cold church halls with creaky, splintery wooden floors. Or church is pricks wearing lots of gold telling you how you should live. Or that kind of American Christian, with big screens and private jets. It’s all very 21st century. It’s 21st century because all the bits that aren’t just look like hypocrisy. Two thousand years and a big pointy hat don’t make you not a paedophile. But the occult is magic. By definition. It’s… Grimy. Fuck. It’s unknown. That’s it. It’s shadows and mystery. The bible’s the best selling book of all time but you have to work for the occult. You have to earn it. Second-hand book shops and obscure sites on the edge of the dark web. It’s because it’s not in big churches. It’s not the kind of power your grandmother had access to. Or your neighbour. It’s special. I’m a fucking hipster. Do people still use that word? When did I get old? But why demons? Because the church does have power, I guess. Best of both worlds. And it’s just so taboo. So unquestionably dark. An extra barrier to entry. Anyone can pray. If you’re willing to put up with the smell of incense, you can buy a tarot deck. But you have to be the right kind of person to do the kind of things we’ve done. You have to earn it. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "rip_the_page" time 0>><<audio "rip_the_page" play>> <</timed>> <> You cut the page from the book, revealing a list of weight measurements below (Goose: 15lb and 4oz, Pebbles: 3oz, Woman: 167lb and 9oz), ball it up and throw it into the fire. It crackles, curls, and then is gone. You believe there is nothing else for you to do here, so you leave the records and [[books|occult and theology]] behind. [[Continue.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> You cut the page from the book, revealing a list of weight measurements below (Goose: 15lb and 4oz, Pebbles: 3oz, Woman: 167lb and 9oz), ball it up and throw it into the fire. It crackles, curls, and then is gone. You believe there is nothing else for you to do here, so you leave the records and books behind. <</if>>

<<set $SpiltWater to true>> Rolling Manifest... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Manifest + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 11>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "spill_the_holy_SUC" time 0>><<audio "spill_the_holy_SUC" play>>You start by hauling each barrel across the room, so that they form a line reaching from the stairs to the wall of crosses. Then, one by one, you pierce their seals. Finally you mount the first step of the stairs and push. Each barrel thuds to the dirt floor after a slow topple into its neighbour, until all lie gushing and glugging their contents into the quickly loosening mud. All that remains for you is to be [[up and out|the town]] before any of the hunters can stumble upon your work.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "spill_the_holy_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "spill_the_holy_FAI_1" play>>One by one you pierce the top of the barrels and, although it is cold in the cellar, with each one you can feel the air growing humid with the church’s poison. It burns at your very being, which is perhaps why you are not concentrating as much as you should as you begin to push the barrels. The first splash alarms you and you rush away before the water can spread to reach your feet. But in your haste you knock into two more barrels and a backwash against the wall as their contents burst out strikes you. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 29s>><<audio "spill_the_holy_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "spill_the_holy_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>The last of the containers has not hit the ground before you are racing from the room, every organ and muscle straining and twisting within you. But you have done it. You have destroyed the Witch Hunters’ most potent weapon against you. You are weakened, but you [[leave the basement|The Witch Hunters' base.]] victorious.<</if>> <</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 11>>You start by hauling each barrel across the room, so that they form a line reaching from the stairs to the wall of crosses. Then, one by one, you pierce their seals. Finally you mount the first step of the stairs and push. Each barrel thuds to the dirt floor after a slow topple into its neighbour, until all lie gushing and glugging their contents into the quickly loosening mud. All that remains for you is to be up and out before any of the hunters can stumble upon your work.<<else>>One by one you pierce the top of the barrels and, although it is cold in the cellar, with each one you can feel the air growing humid with the church’s poison. It burns at your very being, which is perhaps why you are not concentrating as much as you should as you begin to push the barrels. The first splash alarms you and you rush away before the water can spread to reach your feet. But in your haste you knock into two more barrels and a backwash against the wall as their contents burst out strikes you.<<if $Manifest > 0>>The last of the containers has not hit the ground before you are racing from the room, every organ and muscle straining and twisting within you. But you have done it. You have destroyed the Witch Hunters’ most potent weapon against you. You are weakened, but you leave the basement victorious.<</if>><</if>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "break_the_conventional" time 0>><<audio "break_the_conventional" play>> <</timed>> <<set $BrokenWeapons to true>> <> Your nature pulls you in two directions: the wanton destroyer and the whispering shadow. When you rip and tear, smash and crush, you should do so with pride. But you cannot afford an unnecessary confrontation with the Witch Hunters, so you carry out your destruction quietly, without ostentation, without expressions of triumph. And when the swords are shattered, the crossbows are castrated, and the leathers are lacerated you [[dart back upstairs.|The Witch Hunters' base.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Your nature pulls you in two directions: the wanton destroyer and the whispering shadow. When you rip and tear, smash and crush, you should do so with pride. But you cannot afford an unnecessary confrontation with the Witch Hunters, so you carry out your destruction quietly, without ostentation, without expressions of triumph. And when the swords are shattered, the crossbows are castrated, and the leathers are lacerated you dart back upstairs. <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 6>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Goods = 1>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "beg_SUC" time 0>><<audio "beg_SUC" play>>You approach a money lender, an illusionist who earns his bread by making pits appear as if they were mountains. By selling nothing for something. You show him images of lordship, of potential, of wealth and power nearly within hand’s reach. Just a little further, just a few pennies more... They are in your hand in exchange for a promise. Soon this man will learn the lesson all of his customers come to know. Never make a deal with a devil. You take your [[leave.|The market.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $TradedOut to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "beg_FAI" time 0>><<audio "beg_FAI" play>>You approach a money lender, an illusionist who earns his bread by making pits appear as if they were mountains. By selling nothing for something. You show him images of suffering, of despondency, of lack. He laughs. "No collateral, no deal!" he sneers, and the woman next to him nods, snickering too. "This look like a charity to you?" Nothing for nothing. Your only option is to [[leave.|The market.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 6>>You approach a money lender, an illusionist who earns his bread by making pits appear as if they were mountains. By selling nothing for something. You show him images of lordship, of potential, of wealth and power nearly within hand’s reach. Just a little further, just a few pennies more... They are in your hand in exchange for a promise. Soon this man will learn the lesson all of his customers come to know. Never make a deal with a devil. You take your leave.<<else>>You approach a money lender, an illusionist who earns his bread by making pits appear as if they were mountains. By selling nothing for something. You show him images of suffering, of despondency, of lack. He laughs. "No collateral, no deal!" he sneers, and the woman next to him nods, snickering too. "This look like a charity to you?" Nothing for nothing. Your only option is to leave. <</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 9>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Goods = 2>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "a_bargain_to_SUC" time 0>><<audio "a_bargain_to_SUC" play>>You approach a pawnbroker, a woman who strips memories like paint, cleaning wedding rings, lockets, and tobacco cases of everything they once meant so they can be sold on clean to matter less to their next owner. To this woman you whisper compliments, for the first time giving her her story, so that the coins are almost an afterthought as you pluck a pair of silver earrings from her display. It is only once you have walked away that you notice something about the teardrops of silver lying in your hand. On the outside of each is etched a symbol, a hammer crossed with a masonry trowel over the word "Tertiary". On the inside of one earring is a triangle, and on the other is an arrow pointing left. You are lucky to have found this. You should remember it. Take note of it. Tertiary: triangle left. You nod to yourself. You [[leave|The market.]] the market, the pawnbroker behind you feeling as if she was the winner of your deal.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $TradedOut to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "a_bargain_to_FAI" time 0>><<audio "a_bargain_to_FAI" play>>You approach a pawnbroker, a woman who strips memories like paint, cleaning wedding rings, lockets, and tobacco cases of everything they once meant so they can be sold on clean to matter less to their next owner. You attempt to tell her the story of the coins you hold in your hand, hoping that a tale of wishes come true and life-saving luck will allow her to make a product out of your payment, but she yawns and scowls. "Don’t try that kind of thing here." "We don’t like that kind of scam here in this town," the man at the stall next to hers growls. Others turn to look and silently take on the man’s hostility. A bloodbath here would be pointless. You have to [[leave.|The market.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 9>>You approach a pawnbroker, a woman who strips memories like paint, cleaning wedding rings, lockets, and tobacco cases of everything they once meant so they can be sold on clean to matter less to their next owner. To this woman you whisper compliments, for the first time giving her her story, so that the coins are almost an afterthought as you pluck a pair of silver earrings from her display. It is only once you have walked away that you notice something about the teardrops of silver lying in your hand. On the outside of each is etched a symbol, a hammer crossed with a masonry trowel over the word "Tertiary". On the inside of one earring is a triangle, and on the other is an arrow pointing left. You are lucky to have found this. You should remember it. Take note of it. Tertiary: triangle left. You nod to yourself. You leave the market, the pawnbroker behind you feeling as if she was the winner of your deal.<<else>>You approach a pawnbroker, a woman who strips memories like paint, cleaning wedding rings, lockets, and tobacco cases of everything they once meant so they can be sold on clean to matter less to their next owner. You attempt to tell her the story of the coins you hold in your hand, hoping that a tale of wishes come true and life-saving luck will allow her to make a product out of your payment, but she yawns and scowls. "Don’t try that kind of thing here." "We don’t like that kind of scam here in this town," the man at the stall next to hers growls. Others turn to look and silently take on the man’s hostility. A bloodbath here would be pointless. You have to leave.<</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 13>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Goods = 3>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "barter_SUC" time 0>><<audio "barter_SUC" play>>You approach a woman who is doing a poor job of appearing as anything other than a thief. There is no question of it: the only things her eyes can settle on are shadows. Her hands dance awkwardly around her goods as her instinct to hide them fights with her knowledge that in order to sell them she must show them. Somewhere between her flickering fingers you see the sparkle of diamonds. It is a difficult line you must walk. Enough threat to keep her breathing quick and mind spinning. Enough composure to make her think she might be safe, enough naivety to make her think that there is a chance she may have the upper hand. Two clean silver earrings for one dirty decorative egg. It’s not a good trade, but it’s a safe trade. She takes it. And you [[leave|The market.]] with something far, far more valuable than what you started with.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $TradedOut to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "barter_FAI" time 0>><<audio "barter_FAI" play>>You approach a woman who is doing a poor job of appearing as anything other than a thief. There is no question of it: the only things her eyes can settle on are shadows. Her hands dance awkwardly around her goods as her instinct to hide them fights with her knowledge that in order to sell them she must show them. Somewhere between her flickering fingers you see the sparkle of diamonds. You admire her stash, attempt flattery. This is a woman with a trade, after all. As you talk, her movements slow and for a moment you think that you are succeeding. Then, with one fluid motion, she grabs the edge of her display, wraps it into a roll, and bolts from the market. Others are looking at you. "Guard!" they seem to shout. But they do not. They silently let you know that you will be doing no more business here tonight. You have to [[leave.|The market.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 13>>You approach a woman who is doing a poor job of appearing as anything other than a thief. There is no question of it: the only things her eyes can settle on are shadows. Her hands dance awkwardly around her goods as her instinct to hide them fights with her knowledge that in order to sell them she must show them. Somewhere between her flickering fingers you see the sparkle of diamonds. It is a difficult line you must walk. Enough threat to keep her breathing quick and mind spinning. Enough composure to make her think she might be safe, enough naivety to make her think that there is a chance she may have the upper hand. Two clean silver earrings for one dirty decorative egg. It’s not a good trade, but it’s a safe trade. She takes it. And you leave with something far, far more valuable than what you started with.<<else>>You approach a woman who is doing a poor job of appearing as anything other than a thief. There is no question of it: the only things her eyes can settle on are shadows. Her hands dance awkwardly around her goods as her instinct to hide them fights with her knowledge that in order to sell them she must show them. Somewhere between her flickering fingers you see the sparkle of diamonds. You admire her stash, attempt flattery. This is a woman with a trade, after all. As you talk, her movements slow and for a moment you think that you are succeeding. Then, with one fluid motion, she grabs the edge of her display, wraps it into a roll, and bolts from the market. Others are looking at you. "Guard!" they seem to shout. But they do not. They silently let you know that you will be doing no more business here tonight. You have to leave.<</if>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "market_signature" time 0>><<audio "market_signature" play>> <</timed>> <> There are many merchants here. But how will you make one of them sign your contract? <<if not hasVisited("Simply convince one.")>>[[Simply convince one.]] <</if>>[[Wait till one leaves the market square, and then threaten them in a dark alley.]] [[Give up on this for now.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> There are many merchants here. But how will you make one of them sign your contract? <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 11>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Signature to true>><<set $DiaconiconFinished to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "simply_convince_one_SUC" time 0>><<audio "simply_convince_one_SUC" play>>You approach a man already surrounded by other customers. In this little world of worn-out soles and little wooden stools, this man sits on a throne. He leans against the hard oak back of his chair, one hand resting on a chair arm, the other gesticulating lazily. His loud voice drawls and his eyes captivate with their ability to sparkle one moment and go dead-cold the next. You listen from the shadows, unnoticed by the crowds. A lordling moneylender. His attention is charity. Everything else is business. Two broad men in house livery stand behind him. Two sticks, one carrot. The imbalance which keeps the books balanced. You say very little when you approach. "A contract," you say, followed by an amount so small he chuckles as he signs, his eyes already looking for his next mark. One of the men behind you takes you aside, puts your details in his thick book. Some poor soul living at 5 East Gate Lane will be getting a surprise call some time in the next few days. But you will [[be long gone|the town]] by then.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "simply_convince_one_FAI" time 0>><<audio "simply_convince_one_FAI" play>>You approach a woman running a stall selling badly repaired knick-knacks: a corkscrew twisted one way and then another, a cleaver sharpened on the wrong edge, a guitar stringed with woven grass. An easy mark. You begin to weave a tale as confused as her corkscrew, as incomprehensible as her cleaver, as misjudged as her guitar. She squints, lost at first and then increasingly desperate until you hand her salvation. You tell her that if you just sign here, everything will be alright. She reaches for a pen with a broken nib. You stop her just in time, suggest another one which looks almost stable. She is about to sign when another voice sounds behind you. "What are you doing? Mum, don’t sign that. Who are you? What’s going on here?" A crowd forms. You try to talk your way out, but it is too late. They do not mind swindlers here, or dodgy dealers. But you are standing on the wrong side of a stall. You will not be talking yourself into a signature here. It is best that you [[leave.|the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 11>>You approach a man already surrounded by other customers. In this little world of worn-out soles and little wooden stools, this man sits on a throne. He leans against the hard oak back of his chair, one hand resting on a chair arm, the other gesticulating lazily. His loud voice drawls and his eyes captivate with their ability to sparkle one moment and go dead-cold the next. You listen from the shadows, unnoticed by the crowds. A lordling moneylender. His attention is charity. Everything else is business. Two broad men in house livery stand behind him. Two sticks, one carrot. The imbalance which keeps the books balanced. You say very little when you approach. "A contract," you say, followed by an amount so small he chuckles as he signs, his eyes already looking for his next mark. One of the men behind you takes you aside, puts your details in his thick book. Some poor soul living at 5 East Gate Lane will be getting a surprise call some time in the next few days. But you will be long gone by then.<<else>>You approach a woman running a stall selling badly repaired knick-knacks: a corkscrew twisted one way and then another, a cleaver sharpened on the wrong edge, a guitar stringed with woven grass. An easy mark. You begin to weave a tale as confused as her corkscrew, as incomprehensible as her cleaver, as misjudged as her guitar. She squints, lost at first and then increasingly desperate until you hand her salvation. You tell her that if you just sign here, everything will be alright. She reaches for a pen with a broken nib. You stop her just in time, suggest another one which looks almost stable. She is about to sign when another voice sounds behind you. "What are you doing? Mum, don’t sign that. Who are you? What’s going on here?" A crowd forms. You try to talk your way out, but it is too late. They do not mind swindlers here, or dodgy dealers. But you are standing on the wrong side of a stall. You will not be talking yourself into a signature here. It is best that you leave.<</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Overpower... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Overpower + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 11>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +1>><<set $Signature to true>><<set $DiaconiconFinished to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "wait_till_one_SUC" time 0>><<audio "wait_till_one_SUC" play>>You wait until a man who fences stolen jewellery stands up from his stall and makes his way to a nearby alley, where he proceeds to begin relieving himself against the back of a tailor’s shop. His stream of piss breaks off with a jolt, then resumes in a limp trickle down his leg as you push a claw into his neck. You simply tell him to sign. The ‘or’ and what would follow it are implied. He mumbles and whimpers as he he takes the quill you offer him, signing the paper against the grimy wall. When he turns, reeking of his own urine, you are [[gone|the town]]. You do not see him swallow his pride and run to tell the Witch Hunters what happened.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +1>><<set $Signature to true>><<set $DiaconiconFinished to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "wait_till_one_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "wait_till_one_FAI_1" play>>You wait until a man who fences stolen jewellery stands up from his stall and makes his way to a nearby alley, where he proceeds to begin relieving himself against the back of a tailor’s shop. His stream of piss cuts off with a jolt as you push a claw into his neck. You simply tell him to sign. The ‘or’ and what would follow it are implied. At least, you thought they were. The man takes a shaky breath. Then he has twisted in your grip and a knife is in your abdomen. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 31s>><<audio "wait_till_one_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "wait_till_one_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>A moment later and he is down, rolling in the puddle of his own piss, choking on blood. Again you tell him to sign, this time the implication a promise as much as a threat. With bulging eyes and bloody lips, the man signs. Then he looks up with fear and hope. The Witch Hunters will find the body. There is nothing you can do about that now. All you can do is [[leave.|the town]]<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 11>>You wait until a man who fences stolen jewellery stands up from his stall and makes his way to a nearby alley, where he proceeds to begin relieving himself against the back of a tailor’s shop. His stream of piss breaks off with a jolt, then resumes in a limp trickle down his leg as you push a claw into his neck. You simply tell him to sign. The ‘or’ and what would follow it are implied. He mumbles and whimpers as he he takes the quill you offer him, signing the paper against the grimy wall. When he turns, reeking of his own urine, you are gone. You do not see him swallow his pride and run to tell the Witch Hunters what happened.<<else>>You wait until a man who fences stolen jewellery stands up from his stall and makes his way to a nearby alley, where he proceeds to begin relieving himself against the back of a tailor’s shop. His stream of piss cuts off with a jolt as you push a claw into his neck. You simply tell him to sign. The ‘or’ and what would follow it are implied. At least, you thought they were. The man takes a shaky breath. Then he has twisted in your grip and a knife is in your abdomen.<<if $Manifest > 0>><</if>>A moment later and he is down, rolling in the puddle of his own piss, choking on blood. Again you tell him to sign, this time the implication a promise as much as a threat. With bulging eyes and bloody lips, the man signs. Then he looks up with fear and hope. The Witch Hunters will find the body. There is nothing you can do about that now. All you can do is leave.<</if>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "who_are_you" time 0>><<audio "who_are_you" play>><</timed>> They cock their head the other way. "Not omniscient then. Not that anyone said you should be, to be fair. "Who am I? Now now, that’s a difficult question. "Are you looking for 'hell’s willing and eager subject?' Because you’re not fucking getting that. "What about 'just another wage slave toiling with the rest of the world’s multitudes at the feet of those whose entire power rests on the illusion that they are our ‘betters’?' No? What about the simple version. 'I’m the town butcher. I kill things and cut them into little pieces so that other people can turn them into shit.' "No? What about 'a desperate revolutionary who’s beginning to realise that the only fight they’ve ever made any actual progress in is the one against themself to convince themself that the cause is actually worth it? A fight that I’m beginning to realise I’m losing?' "Does any of that help you?" [["If you perform a ritual of power for me, I will grant you favour."]] [["You will grant me a boon, or you will be destroyed."]] <<if $HoH is true>> They cock their head the other way. "Not omniscient then. Not that anyone said you should be, to be fair. "Who am I? Now now, that’s a difficult question. "Are you looking for 'hell’s willing and eager subject?' Because you’re not fucking getting that. "What about 'just another wage slave toiling with the rest of the world’s multitudes at the feet of those whose entire power rests on the illusion that they are our ‘betters’?' No? What about the simple version. 'I’m the town butcher. I kill things and cut them into little pieces so that other people can turn them into shit.' "No? What about 'a desperate revolutionary who’s beginning to realise that the only fight they’ve ever made any actual progress in is the one against themself to convince themself that the cause is actually worth it? A fight that I’m beginning to realise I’m losing?' "Does any of that help you?" <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "if_you_perform" time 0>><<audio "if_you_perform" play>><</timed>> "You’ll offer me a favour?" They raise a thin eyebrow. "That’s aggressively transactional. Which I suppose makes sense. Who else would have come up with the concept of money if not the devil? "At least you’re honest about what you are. "So sure. Because the choice between honest evil and sanctimonious evil is a shit choice, but I might as well have a horse in the race. "So what services are you buying from me, master?" [["Perform a ritual for me, a dark rite to bring me power."]] <<if $HoH is true>> "You’ll offer me a favour?" They raise a thin eyebrow. "That’s aggressively transactional. Which I suppose makes sense. Who else would have come up with the concept of money if not the devil? "At least you’re honest about what you are. "So sure. Because the choice between honest evil and sanctimonious evil is a shit choice, but I might as well have a horse in the race. "So what services are you buying from me, master?" <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "you_will_grant" time 0>><<audio "you_will_grant" play>><</timed>> They stare at you with their piercing eyes. "I’d prefer not to die. But I can’t say I’m that committed. And I don’t like threats." They seem to genuinely consider the problem for a moment. "Would it be okay if I said 'I’ll do it, but because I want to, not because you made me'? "Don’t answer. I’m telling myself that and I don’t care how bullshit it is. "So, what is it you want me to do?" [["Perform a ritual for me, a dark rite to bring me power."]] <<if $HoH is true>> They stare at you with their piercing eyes. "I’d prefer not to die. But I can’t say I’m that committed. And I don’t like threats." They seem to genuinely consider the problem for a moment. "Would it be okay if I said 'I’ll do it, but because I want to, not because you made me'? "Don’t answer. I’m telling myself that and I don’t care how bullshit it is. "So, what is it you want me to do?" <</if>>

<<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "kill_the_butcher" time 0>><<audio "kill_the_butcher" play>><</timed>> "Of course," they say, and then they die. Their blood soaks into their apron, mixing with that of their produce. You are not sure what you have achieved. [[Leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Sobbing.] [Whispered:] Why do we try? [Loud bang.] Oh fuck! <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "truths_of_the" time 0>><<audio "truths_of_the" play>><</timed>> You teach them the meaning of the forces of time and space, morality and mathematics, the divine and the profane. At first they quip with you, make their little asides, but by the end they sit, their eyes wider than their narrow skull would seem to allow. "And that’s it?" they say at the end. You do not know if they are asking about your teachings, life, or the nature of existence. "I … I … what could I do with this?" You reply that they could do whatever they want. After all, all your master did was make the apple possible. "With what you’ve told me… The secrets. If I told everyone … the revolution would be inevitable. It would have to be." They are staring past you. You see the flames of the city burning to ash in the space behind their eyes. You should come back when you have the signature. Best, for now, to [[leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> You teach them the meaning of the forces of time and space, morality and mathematics, the divine and the profane. At first they quip with you, make their little asides, but by the end they sit, their eyes wider than their narrow skull would seem to allow. "And that’s it?" they say at the end. You do not know if they are asking about your teachings, life, or the nature of existence. "I … I … what could I do with this?" You reply that they could do whatever they want. After all, all your master did was make the apple possible. "With what you’ve told me… The secrets. If I told everyone … the revolution would be inevitable. It would have to be." They are staring past you. You see the flames of the city burning to ash in the space behind their eyes. You should come back when you have the signature. Best, for now, to leave. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "perform_butcher_ritual" time 0>><<audio "perform_butcher_ritual" play>><</timed>> They purse their lips, two thin pale lines of pink. "I might have something." They stand up and move over to a bookshelf. A cloud of dust explodes as they pull out a thin treatise, an avalanche of other books displaced by the butcher’s action rippling across the shelf. The butcher stands, flicking through the small paperback. You read the words on the cover: Light and Dark Rites for the Striver in Search of a more Equitable Society. "Yeees," they say slowly, "this one will do. I’d perform this. But…" they squint "I don’t have what I need for it. Of course. Because of course it comes down to material possessions doesn’t it?" They look up from the book and smirk at you as if you are in on whatever they find to be a joke. "You need ‘the signed consent of an intermediary’. I wouldn’t do, I’m afraid. "It’s a contract ritual," they move over to you, turn the page to you and then away again before you have a proper chance to read it. "I will give you the power to appeal to the universe to balance the scales between you and one other individual. You and ‘the contractee’s’ life forces will be ‘re-equalised’. I believe it means that your life forces will be balanced to the same point. I am assuming that violence is part of your mandate? Well if you were to find yourself full of sword wounds and bristled with arrows, then whoever you chose gets half of that and you get half of their … health. I believe." They shrug. "Your vitality will be added together and then divided back evenly between you and the other. "But as I said, I can’t do it without ‘the signed consent of an intermediary’." They look at you with a sly smile. "No, I didn’t know either. It says, ahem, ‘one whose role within the social tapestry is to stand between others. For example, a trader or a priest.’ A specific kind of parasite. I can’t really claim to be one, I’m afraid. A little too honest for that. But I’m sure you could find someone." They move back over to the desk and sit down. You wait for a minute as they write out a quick contract. "‘I, the parasitic entity who makes their living dividing people so that they can justify to others the importance of having a ‘middle man’ between themselves and their fellow man/imaginary cosmic entity, give my consent for the demonic holder of this document to appeal to whatever forces, if any, above and beyond personal agency which control the universe in order so that it may act against my own interests by increasing equality within this plane by balancing the life essences between the holder of this document and ‘the subject’, defined as the extant entity selected by aforementioned holder of this document at the time at which said holder breaks the seal presented as the concluding item of this document.’ "And then the word ‘signed’ larger than all of the rest of it, so that they won’t bother actually reading any of the rest." They stand, scan their work one more time, shrug, then hand it to you. "Bring that back with a trader or priest’s signature and I’ll perform your ritual. "And then maybe I’ll qualify as a trader myself." They blink, shake their head, and laugh. "This wasn’t how I thought my night would go." [["I shall return with the signature."|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> They purse their lips, two thin pale lines of pink. "I might have something." They stand up and move over to a bookshelf. A cloud of dust explodes as they pull out a thin treatise, an avalanche of other books displaced by the butcher’s action rippling across the shelf. The butcher stands, flicking through the small paperback. You read the words on the cover: Light and Dark Rites for the Striver in Search of a more Equitable Society. "Yeees," they say slowly, "this one will do. I’d perform this. But…" they squint "I don’t have what I need for it. Of course. Because of course it comes down to material possessions doesn’t it?" They look up from the book and smirk at you as if you are in on whatever they find to be a joke. "You need ‘the signed consent of an intermediary’. I wouldn’t do, I’m afraid. "It’s a contract ritual," they move over to you, turn the page to you and then away again before you have a proper chance to read it. "I will give you the power to appeal to the universe to balance the scales between you and one other individual. You and ‘the contractee’s’ life forces will be ‘re-equalised’. I believe it means that your life forces will be balanced to the same point. I am assuming that violence is part of your mandate? Well if you were to find yourself full of sword wounds and bristled with arrows, then whoever you chose gets half of that and you get half of their … health. I believe." They shrug. "Your vitality will be added together and then divided back evenly between you and the other. "But as I said, I can’t do it without ‘the signed consent of an intermediary’." They look at you with a sly smile. "No, I didn’t know either. It says, ahem, ‘one whose role within the social tapestry is to stand between others. For example, a trader or a priest.’ A specific kind of parasite. I can’t really claim to be one, I’m afraid. A little too honest for that. But I’m sure you could find someone." They move back over to the desk and sit down. You wait for a minute as they write out a quick contract. "‘I, the parasitic entity who makes their living dividing people so that they can justify to others the importance of having a ‘middle man’ between themselves and their fellow man/imaginary cosmic entity, give my consent for the demonic holder of this document to appeal to whatever forces, if any, above and beyond personal agency which control the universe in order so that it may act against my own interests by increasing equality within this plane by balancing the life essences between the holder of this document and ‘the subject’, defined as the extant entity selected by aforementioned holder of this document at the time at which said holder breaks the seal presented as the concluding item of this document.’ "And then the word ‘signed’ larger than all of the rest of it, so that they won’t bother actually reading any of the rest." They stand, scan their work one more time, shrug, then hand it to you. "Bring that back with a trader or priest’s signature and I’ll perform your ritual. "And then maybe I’ll qualify as a trader myself." They blink, shake their head, and laugh. "This wasn’t how I thought my night would go." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "do_you_know" time 0>><<audio "do_you_know" play>><</timed>> The man nods. His mouth hangs open, as if words are going to come out, but the habitual silence of this place pushes them down. [["Then you shall perform a ritual for me."|"Mortal, you shall prepare a ritual for my glorification."]] <<if $HoH is true>> The man nods. His mouth hangs open, as if words are going to come out, but the habitual silence of this place pushes them down. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "mortal_you_shall" time 0>><<audio "mortal_you_shall" play>><</timed>> "Or you shall kill me." You do not deny the statement. "Is that the deal? I cannot take it. There is something which must be done before I can pass. But I cannot do it. "While I was away at war, my Barbara died. She died alone. She’s not like me. She shouldn’t have died alone. "Her spirit has not departed. It holds to her grave. The last in the Seaberry crypt. "Make her go. To somewhere better than this awful place. Then I will light the forge for you." [[Go.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> "Or you shall kill me." You do not deny the statement. "Is that the deal? I cannot take it. There is something which must be done before I can pass. But I cannot do it. "While I was away at war, my Barbara died. She died alone. She’s not like me. She shouldn’t have died alone. "Her spirit has not departed. It holds to her grave. The last in the Seaberry crypt. "Make her go. To somewhere better than this awful place. Then I will light the forge for you." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "i_have_the" time 0>><<audio "i_have_the" play>><</timed>> The blacksmith stands and accepts the small bundle of delicate bones you hand him. He stares at them where they lie in his large calloused hands. He says nothing as he leaves. He says nothing when he returns. He simply goes straight to the hearth, works for several minutes on lighting it. He pumps the bellows and the flames jump up, hot and tempting. He prepares tools, most mundane, some heretical. Once he is ready he turns to you, offers his hand. You take it and he throws you into the fire. It roars around you, hungry, blinding. Your skin turns black. The smith pumps the bellows and air rushes in, cooling for just a moment before the heat rises stronger than before. You push your claws into the coals, feel the edges of you and it fade as you melt into each other. Then you are pulled out, rough and sudden and plunged into water, roiling and boiling around you so that when you are pulled back out you barely feel wet. You are beaten, hammered, folded in on yourself, purged of impurities. When the smith takes a staggering step back, you have been remade. "When you fight, you can take a blow for nothing." He says. "The elements will bear the burden." He stands, sweating in the heat. His face is blank. [[Leave.|the town]] [[Kill him.|Kill the blacksmith]] <<if $HoH is true>> The blacksmith stands and accepts the small bundle of delicate bones you hand him. He stares at them where they lie in his large calloused hands. He says nothing as he leaves. He says nothing when he returns. He simply goes straight to the hearth, works for several minutes on lighting it. He pumps the bellows and the flames jump up, hot and tempting. He prepares tools, most mundane, some heretical. Once he is ready he turns to you, offers his hand. You take it and he throws you into the fire. It roars around you, hungry, blinding. Your skin turns black. The smith pumps the bellows and air rushes in, cooling for just a moment before the heat rises stronger than before. You push your claws into the coals, feel the edges of you and it fade as you melt into each other. Then you are pulled out, rough and sudden and plunged into water, roiling and boiling around you so that when you are pulled back out you barely feel wet. You are beaten, hammered, folded in on yourself, purged of impurities. When the smith takes a staggering step back, you have been remade. "When you fight, you can take a blow for nothing." He says. "The elements will bear the burden." He stands, sweating in the heat. His face is blank. <</if>>

<<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "kill_the_blacksmith" time 0>><<audio "kill_the_blacksmith" play>><</timed>> The strong man falls heavily to the ground without putting up a fight. You haul his dying body up and place him into the still roaring fire of the furnace. [[Leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Long pause.] Did you think he might want it? Is that why you did it? Can you make that choice for someone? If she’d wanted to fucking do it, she would have done it to herself, right? [shouted] Right? Or, or, or, or maybe she needed a push because if she did it herself, then, I don’t know, it would be her fucking fault or something. Because it makes us cowards. That’s what it does. It make us scared to live because, what’s the fucking point, so what’s the fucking point in dying? What’s the fucking point in anything why not just stick around and feel the pain because it’s feeling something. [long pause, heavy breathing] Why am I jealous? Because I admire them so much. Because they’re not stupid fucking cowards who hold on for … I don’t know. I don’t know! Why am I here! Why am I sitting here not thinking ‘why did she have to die?’ but thinking ‘why didn’t I get to die?’ Why am I haunting myself? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "juliano_cottor" time 0>><<audio "juliano_cottor" play>><</timed>> You find a small grave marked by an already rotting wooden cross. You dig just a couple of feet down through the cold earth before you find something small. A child’s bone. You have seen countless bodies stripped of flesh, so it does not take you long to be sure you’ve found the other pieces. The child was very very young when it came to lie in the ground. Even as you hold the bones, you wonder if you have seen this child, down there, shrieking in your master’s domain. After all, since Augustine, they have been your master’s domain. [[Leave with the bones.|The cemetery.]] <<set $BabyBones to true>> <<if $HoH is true>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "joan_2" time 0>><<audio "joan_2" play>><</timed>> She looks around, as if attempting to spot the seams of reality, then returns her attention to you with a kind smile. "Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, when talking to a spirit. "I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. When I was a young girl, they said that you all went into hiding when the church came. Then they said you were all dead. Now they say you never existed. But my grandmother kept the old ways and she raised me much better than my own mother ever did, so I keep the old ways as well. And now you’ve come. A spirit of the woods. Do the old gods still dance in the moonlight?" Somewhere deep in yourself, somewhere in the past that made you, you recognise what this heathen faith became. That does not mean you do not loathe it. That does not mean you cannot use it. [["The old gods live. It is your time to serve them."]] [["The old gods are dead. It is the Devil who sent me."]] <<if $HoH is true>> She looks around, as if attempting to spot the seams of reality, then returns her attention to you with a kind smile. "Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, when talking to a spirit. "I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. When I was a young girl, they said that you all went into hiding when the church came. Then they said you were all dead. Now they say you never existed. But my grandmother kept the old ways and she raised me much better than my own mother ever did, so I keep the old ways as well. And now you’ve come. A spirit of the woods. Do the old gods still dance in the moonlight?" Somewhere deep in yourself, somewhere in the past that made you, you recognise what this heathen faith became. That does not mean you do not loathe it. That does not mean you cannot use it. <</if>>

<<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "kill_the_herbalist" time 0>><<audio "kill_the_herbalist" play>><</timed>> Her skin is thin. That is all that really matters. You believe she would have fought back, but you have sharp claws and she has thin skin. It takes a long time for her blood to stop flowing, flowing down the gaps between old planks. [[Return to town.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Long pause.] Why? You want to be fucking edgy? You’re playing a game about being a demon and you see someone actually nice so you choose to rip her throat out? Is it because you’re a psychopath? Or really it’s because it’s just a game? And why should anything matter, right? Who am I kidding, I’d kill her. Second play through at least. Sorry the description isn’t more graphic, you sick fuck. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "old_gods_alive" time 0>><<audio "old_gods_alive" play>><</timed>> The old woman smiles. "I know. I feel them. I’ve always felt them. I’ve never felt ‘God’ in the church, but I’ve always felt the gods in the trees and hills and streams. "I’ve always felt there had to be more. And nature is where I’ve always felt it. "You’re not what I was expecting. But I suppose that nature is as much claws and fangs as it is soft fur and smooth bark. "But why has a spirit of the old gods come to an old woman? What could you want with me?" [["For you to perform a ritual."|For you to perform a ritual.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The old woman smiles. "I know. I feel them. I’ve always felt them. I’ve never felt ‘God’ in the church, but I’ve always felt the gods in the trees and hills and streams. "I’ve always felt there had to be more. And nature is where I’ve always felt it. "You’re not what I was expecting. But I suppose that nature is as much claws and fangs as it is soft fur and smooth bark. "But why has a spirit of the old gods come to an old woman? What could you want with me?" <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "old_gods_dead" time 0>><<audio "old_gods_dead" play>><</timed>> The old woman stares at you for a long time. "It was too much to hope for, wasn’t it? "It’s funny, I think, when you’re old enough, you go back to wanting the things a child wants. For things to be true when they’re not. I don’t know why that is. Perhaps its because, like a child, when you’re old, you know you can’t really change anything. "I can see that you’re a demon. You don’t look anything like the spirits grandmother talked about. But I wanted to believe. "But why has a demon come to an old woman? What could you want with me?" [["For you to perform a ritual."|For you to perform a ritual.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The old woman stares at you for a long time. "It was too much to hope for, wasn’t it? "It’s funny, I think, when you’re old enough, you go back to wanting the things a child wants. For things to be true when they’re not. I don’t know why that is. Perhaps its because, like a child, when you’re old, you know you can’t really change anything. "I can see that you’re a demon. You don’t look anything like the spirits grandmother talked about. But I wanted to believe. "But why has a demon come to an old woman? What could you want with me?" <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "deaths_forgotten" time 0>><<audio "deaths_forgotten" play>><</timed>> "It’s a simple flower, just bigger than a fingernail, with five or six pitch black petals with a bright yellow sun in the centre. The leaves are arrow-shaped, mottled black and violet, with the violet running down the stem. The plant thrives when given the last rays of the setting sun and bedded in soil plenty used by other plants. The bottom of each leaf is coated in uncountable tiny needles, not unlike a nettle, but much more potent. They barely hurt, but they cause paralysis and visions. Dark visions. They say that those who are considering death often touch the leaves to give themselves the strength to greet the reaper. But if mixed with poppy milk and the sap of a tiger tree it gives dreams of forgotten pasts. I’ve mixed some before for the sheriff, to help witnesses remember. And plenty for old maids who wish to remember the faces of the loves of their youths." <<return>> <<if $HoH is true>> "It’s a simple flower, just bigger than a fingernail, with five or six pitch black petals with a bright yellow sun in the centre. The leaves are arrow-shaped, mottled black and violet, with the violet running down the stem. The plant thrives when given the last rays of the setting sun and bedded in soil plenty used by other plants. The bottom of each leaf is coated in uncountable tiny needles, not unlike a nettle, but much more potent. They barely hurt, but they cause paralysis and visions. Dark visions. They say that those who are considering death often touch the leaves to give themselves the strength to greet the reaper. But if mixed with poppy milk and the sap of a tiger tree it gives dreams of forgotten pasts. I’ve mixed some before for the sheriff, to help witnesses remember. And plenty for old maids who wish to remember the faces of the loves of their youths." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "creep_through_house" time 0>><<audio "creep_through_house" play>><</timed>> The floorboards creak, the doors squeal on their hinges. In its solitude, the place has learnt to speak. And it seems keen to cry out your coming. You should try to go only where it is necessary to go. [[Explore the west wing.]] [[Explore the east wing.]] [[Explore the basement.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The floorboards creak, the doors squeal on their hinges. In its solitude, the place has learnt to speak. And it seems keen to cry out your coming. You should try to go only where it is necessary to go <</if>>

<<set $SinnerHostility to 0>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "find_the_owner" time 0>><<audio "find_the_owner" play>><</timed>> You walk without fear through the house, starting at the bottom and moving to the top. You do not make it far. A man in a black night robe stands at the top of the stairs. You see him first only by the whites of his eyes. Then by his skin, his face a round unshaven moon, almost as bright as his eyes in its sickly paleness. Then by his smell, the smell of a body long used to nothing but its own scents and clothes which have had little more to wash them than the sweat and oil and grease of his body. He says nothing, although his wet mouth hangs slightly open. <<link "\"I am here to take some flowers from you. You will bring them to me. Or else I shall take them by force.\"" "Sinner 2">><<set $SinnerHostility to $SinnerHostility + 2>><</link>> <<link "\"You have something I need. Flowers. It would be gracious of you if you could bring me some.\"" "Sinner 2">><</link>> [["Tell me your sins."]] <<if $HoH is true>> You walk without fear through the house, starting at the bottom and moving to the top. You do not make it far. A man in a black night robe stands at the top of the stairs. You see him first only by the whites of his eyes. Then by his skin, his face a round unshaven moon, almost as bright as his eyes in its sickly paleness. Then by his smell, the smell of a body long used to nothing but its own scents and clothes which have had little more to wash them than the sweat and oil and grease of his body. He says nothing, although his wet mouth hangs slightly open. <</if>>

Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_in" time 0>><<audio "sneak_in" play>>You sneak into the huge house, past the guards wearing the van Hassel coat of arms upon their chests – the circle of the world within the circle of the sun - past the dogs, past the servants milling around getting things ready for their master’s big day tomorrow. For every day for a van Hassel is a big day. You find what you are looking for hidden under the master’s dresser in his bedroom. A plaque, embossed with gold filigree writing. You are lucky to have found this. You should remember it. Take note of it. Quaternary: square back. You take it and [[leave.|the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> [Long pause.] I forgot about this. I didn’t have time. It was going to be a whole mini dungeon. I’m sorry. I can’t even remember now. Probably would have been shit anyway. [Pause.] I’m sorry. <</if>>

<><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>> <<if (not hasVisited("Explore the basement.")) and (not hasVisited("Explore the east wing."))>><<if $r > 8>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>> <<elseif hasVisited("Explore the basement.") and hasVisited("Explore the east wing.")>><<if $r > 13>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>> <<else>><<if $r > 10>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>><</if>> <> Rolling Obscure... <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $outcome is "Succeeded">>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "explore_west_wing" time 0>><<audio "explore_west_wing" play>>The west wing is liminal, hanging between life and death, house and crypt, growth and decay. A library, books lying open on tables, chairs, and the floor. The signs of rabid research, of obsessive reading. But also: a treatise slipped and fallen into a bowl of rotting soup. And there, in the ashes, the remains of torn out pages thrown onto a dying fire for want of better kindling. Ink pots upturned onto drenched pages with curling corners. A private dining room, only a single corner of clear space holds out against the ranked lines of plates and bowls and spoons and forks crusted with the long dried residue of old meals or blooming with furry centipedes of white and black and yellow mould. You find the flowers in the bedroom. A man lies underneath a heavy black blanket. He breathes. He lies still. He is curled in on himself like a baby in the womb. His skin is pale and dry and almost as cool as a dead man’s. He smells of rot. Like something dead. Like something dying. The flowers sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of them looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You take them and leave their master to his long wait for death. His long wait for life. [[Leave the house.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><<else>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +2>><<audio "explore_manor_FAI" time 0>><<audio "explore_manor_FAI" play>>You are not sure which exact step it is, which slip of your claws against the lonely wood, but at some point as you moved through the house you made a mistake. Someone for whom the sounds of this house are the sounds of his life heard something he knew was wrong. The peal of the bell feels like it is breaking something. It shatters its way through the air, battering against the walls and smashing along the glass of the windows. The exact mechanics are beyond you. Who will hear this bell, to whom will they run, what will be communicated and to whom? But in the violence of the sound you hear an animal’s maddening scream for help. The sound of this bell is connected by primal laws of society to the oncoming appearance of armed men. You do not have much time. You become a whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guards see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters. [[Disappear into the shadows of the town.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $outcome is "Succeeded">>The west wing is liminal, hanging between life and death, house and crypt, growth and decay. A library, books lying open on tables, chairs, and the floor. The signs of rabid research, of obsessive reading. But also: a treatise slipped and fallen into a bowl of rotting soup. And there, in the ashes, the remains of torn out pages thrown onto a dying fire for want of better kindling. Ink pots upturned onto drenched pages with curling corners. A private dining room, only a single corner of clear space holds out against the ranked lines of plates and bowls and spoons and forks crusted with the long dried residue of old meals or blooming with furry centipedes of white and black and yellow mould. You find the flowers in the bedroom. A man lies underneath a heavy black blanket. He breathes. He lies still. He is curled in on himself like a baby in the womb. His skin is pale and dry and almost as cool as a dead man’s. He smells of rot. Like something dead. Like something dying. The flowers sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of them looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You take them and leave their master to his long wait for death. His long wait for life.<<else>>You are not sure which exact step it is, which slip of your claws against the lonely wood, but at some point as you moved through the house you made a mistake. Someone for whom the sounds of this house are the sounds of his life heard something he knew was wrong. The peal of the bell feels like it is breaking something. It shatters its way through the air, battering against the walls and smashing along the glass of the windows. The exact mechanics are beyond you. Who will hear this bell, to whom will they run, what will be communicated and to whom? But in the violence of the sound you hear an animal’s maddening scream for help. The sound of this bell is connected by primal laws of society to the oncoming appearance of armed men. You do not have much time. You become a whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guards see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters.<</if>> <</if>>

<><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>> <<if not hasVisited("Explore the basement.")>><<if $r > 6>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>><<else>><<if $r > 9>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>><</if>> <> Rolling Obscure... <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $outcome is "Succeeded">>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_east_wing_SUC" time 0>><<audio "the_east_wing_SUC" play>><</timed>>The east wing is like a museum. It has two principal exhibits. One is a curated display of ideal domesticity. You pass through bedrooms with linen sheets tucked creaseless around mattresses, hairbrushes and razors waiting perpendicular to dressing table mirrors, dainty piles of books lying on bedside tables, each spine in line with the next. Bathrooms have chamber pots ready and bars of soap wrapped in brown paper with coloured wax-coated strings secured by looping bows waiting for wet hands to open them. A sitting room, logs waiting in a neat stack by the fireplace, chairs turned at angles conducive both to conversation and private reading or contemplation by the light of the flames. The second exhibit, evenly superimposed upon the first, is dust. If anyone were to look tomorrow, they would be able to mark your exact progress through the rooms. But you would guess that no-one will look. No-one has looked for a long time. The east wing is for the moths now. They are all that live here. You find no flowers. [[Explore the west wing.]] <<if not hasVisited("Explore the basement.")>>[[Explore the basement.]]<</if>><</timed>><<else>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +2>><<audio "explore_manor_FAI" time 0>><<audio "explore_manor_FAI" play>>You are not sure which exact step it is, which slip of your claws against the lonely wood, but at some point as you moved through the house you made a mistake. Someone for whom the sounds of this house are the sounds of his life heard something he knew was wrong. The peal of the bell feels like it is breaking something. It shatters its way through the air, battering against the walls and smashing along the glass of the windows. The exact mechanics are beyond you. Who will hear this bell, to whom will they run, what will be communicated and to whom? But in the violence of the sound you hear an animal’s maddening scream for help. The sound of this bell is connected by primal laws of society to the oncoming appearance of armed men. You do not have much time. You become a whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guards see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters. [[Disappear into the shadows of the town.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $outcome is "Succeeded">>The east wing is like a museum. It has two principal exhibits. One is a curated display of ideal domesticity. You pass through bedrooms with linen sheets tucked creaseless around mattresses, hairbrushes and razors waiting perpendicular to dressing table mirrors, dainty piles of books lying on bedside tables, each spine in line with the next. Bathrooms have chamber pots ready and bars of soap wrapped in brown paper with coloured wax-coated strings secured by looping bows waiting for wet hands to open them. A sitting room, logs waiting in a neat stack by the fireplace, chairs turned at angles conducive both to conversation and private reading or contemplation by the light of the flames. The second exhibit, evenly superimposed upon the first, is dust. If anyone were to look tomorrow, they would be able to mark your exact progress through the rooms. But you would guess that no-one will look. No-one has looked for a long time. The east wing is for the moths now. They are all that live here. You find no flowers.<<else>>You are not sure which exact step it is, which slip of your claws against the lonely wood, but at some point as you moved through the house you made a mistake. Someone for whom the sounds of this house are the sounds of his life heard something he knew was wrong. The peal of the bell feels like it is breaking something. It shatters its way through the air, battering against the walls and smashing along the glass of the windows. The exact mechanics are beyond you. Who will hear this bell, to whom will they run, what will be communicated and to whom? But in the violence of the sound you hear an animal’s maddening scream for help. The sound of this bell is connected by primal laws of society to the oncoming appearance of armed men. You do not have much time. You become a whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guards see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters.<</if>> <</if>>

<><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>> <<if not hasVisited("Explore the east wing.")>><<if $r > 6>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>><<else>><<if $r > 9>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><</if>><</if>> <> Rolling Obscure... <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $outcome is "Succeeded">>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "explore_the_basement" time 0>><<audio "explore_the_basement" play>><</timed>>A place of forgotten things, rats, and dust. Perhaps there are treasures here, but, in the dark, you will find no flowers. [[Explore the west wing.]] <<if not hasVisited("Explore the east wing.")>>[[Explore the east wing.]]<</if>><</timed>><<else>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "explore_the_basement" time 0>><<audio "explore_the_basement" play>><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +2>>You are not sure which exact step it is, which slip of your claws against the lonely wood, but at some point as you moved through the house you made a mistake. Someone for whom the sounds of this house are the sounds of his life heard something he knew was wrong. The peal of the bell feels like it is breaking something. It shatters its way through the air, battering against the walls and smashing along the glass of the windows. The exact mechanics are beyond you. Who will hear this bell, to whom will they run, what will be communicated and to whom? But in the violence of the sound you hear an animal’s maddening scream for help. The sound of this bell is connected by primal laws of society to the oncoming appearance of armed men. You do not have much time. You become a whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guards see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters. [[Disappear into the shadows of the town.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> The basement? Really? Do you grow your flowers in a basement? Do you know what a flower is? Or were you hoping that there’d be something interesting here. That I’d hide something somewhere obviously wrong. In the dark. In the depths. Where he lived. Before we let him out. [Pause.] You want to know a secret? You want to know? I’m sitting here saying this. And I haven’t even washed the blood off my hands. [Pause] [Shouting:] Bune! Bune! Rise from the depths, from the dark pit of hell, from the inferno, from the cavern of screams! Make it right! By Satan! Answer me! Make it mean something. <</if>>

<<set $DeathsForgotten to true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "got_flowers" time 0>><<audio "got_flowers" play>><</timed>> But we have moved past a question. You have the flowers. But by what do you hold them? [[The stem.]] [[The leaves.]] [[The petals.]] <<if $HoH is true>> But we have moved past a question. You have the flowers. But by what do you hold them? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_stem" time 0>><<audio "the_stem" play>><</timed>> Of course. What else would you hold them by? [[Continue.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> Of course. What else would you hold them by? <</if>>

<<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_leaves" time 0>><<audio "the_leaves" play>><</timed>> Maybe you did not hear it. Maybe you do not remember. Maybe you simply wanted to experience that feeling. A hundred tiny, tiny needles pierce what passes for your skin and sink their venom into the burning, flowing stuff that might be your blood. You see the sun. You smell clean linen, fresh grass, baking bread. You feel a cool breeze, the play of warmth against your flesh. You hear the echoing boom of a preacher’s voice, the gentle tickle of children’s laughter. You scream. It is the only response you can make. Curtains jerk open, lights go on, doors creak as the residents of the town come to see what could make such a sound. You run, the light still burning in your eyes, the sounds still ringing in your ears, but you know that you were seen. A demon, dreaming the dream of an angel. [[Continue.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> Maybe you did not hear it. Maybe you do not remember. Maybe you simply wanted to experience that feeling. A hundred tiny, tiny needles pierce what passes for your skin and sink their venom into the burning, flowing stuff that might be your blood. You see the sun. You smell clean linen, fresh grass, baking bread. You feel a cool breeze, the play of warmth against your flesh. You hear the echoing boom of a preacher’s voice, the gentle tickle of children’s laughter. You scream. It is the only response you can make. Curtains jerk open, lights go on, doors creak as the residents of the town come to see what could make such a sound. You run, the light still burning in your eyes, the sounds still ringing in your ears, but you know that you were seen. A demon, dreaming the dream of an angel. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_petals" time 0>><<audio "the_petals" play>><</timed>> The petals are slightly wrinkled, their delicate fibres pulled slightly thin, but they are intact enough, you are sure. [[Continue.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> The petals are slightly wrinkled, their delicate fibres pulled slightly thin, but they are intact enough, you are sure. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tell_me_your" time 0>><<audio "tell_me_your" play>><</timed>> The man shivers. "I am nothing but a sinner." He looks at you as if you you must already know. But you are not your master. "Must I say it?" You reply with silence. He sags but does not fall. "My sister and I. We took shelter from my father. Together. She’s the only one who could understand. I was the only one who could understand. "She was the only warmth in my life. "It was a test. And we failed. "I see now that God will never forgive me." <<link "\"Your soul is not yet forfeit. I offer another test. Bring me your Death’s Forgotten. Now.\"" "\"Bring them to me. Now.\"">><<set $SinnerHostility to $SinnerHostility – 2>><</link>> [["What is your real sin?"]] <<if $HoH is true>> The man shivers. "I am nothing but a sinner." He looks at you as if you you must already know. But you are not your master. "Must I say it?" You reply with silence. He sags but does not fall. "My sister and I. We took shelter from my father. Together. She’s the only one who could understand. I was the only one who could understand. "She was the only warmth in my life. "It was a test. And we failed. "I see now that God will never forgive me." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "sinner_2" time 0>><<audio "sinner_2" play>><</timed>> When the man finally speaks his voice is dry and cracks in a way he seems unaware of. "Death’s forgotten." It is a statement as much as it is a plea. You let him know that he is right. "Why? What use could you possibly find with such a thing? Surely you have no need of nightmares." <<link "\"I don’t have to answer your questions. Bring me the flower.\"" "Sinner 3">><<set $SinnerHostility to $SinnerHostility + 2>><</link>> <<link "\"It is always possible for the nightmare to grow deeper. For the night to grow darker.\"" "Sinner 3">><</link>> <<if $HoH is true>> When the man finally speaks his voice is dry and cracks in a way he seems unaware of. "Death’s forgotten." It is a statement as much as it is a plea. You let him know that he is right. "Why? What use could you possibly find with such a thing? Surely you have no need of nightmares." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "sinner_3" time 0>><<audio "sinner_3" play>><</timed>> "I cannot," he says, standing a little straighter for a moment. But the confidence does not last. "Please." [["Bring them to me. Now."]] [["Tell me: why do you need them?"]] <<if $HoH is true>> "I cannot," he says, standing a little straighter for a moment. But the confidence does not last. "Please." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "exist" time 0>><<audio "exist" play>><</timed>> <center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Hand.jpg" style="max-width: 70%; max-height: 80vh"/>' "Bloody-handed saint.">><</link>></center> [[Return|"What is your real sin?"]] <<if $HoH is true>> My sins. I was trying to be edgy, but it was a self report. We all know that, I think. I don’t smell. I shower every day. I – [starting to laugh] – I don’t know why I feel the need to say that. Why the fuck does it matter! [Laughter turns closer to sobs.] My sin is that I exist. It was before and it still is now. I don’t know why I thought I could get away from that. Maybe that’s my sin. Thinking that I can. That I could. Do I still? Right now? No. But I must a bit. Because here I am, telling you about it. Instead of, you know. You know. Killing myself. Did that make you uncomfortable? If it did, I think I can predict something about you. You’ve never come close. You don’t know it as a friend. You haven’t sat with it in the dark. You don’t know that it’s warm. Like a thick duvet. Like a deep sleep. You’ve never looked at a tall building and felt a moment of relief. You’ve never been talking to someone and found your mind a hundred feet up but coming down fast. And how great that feels. To imagine. That kindness. You’ve never found it funny when people gasp and go white a bit and say that everything will be okay. That ‘life’s always worth living’. That you deserve to live. Like the dead kids in Ukraine. Or Gaza. Or Iran. Or England or Scotland or Wales or the fucking US where they shoot you for being black and starve you for being brown. I’m a nice little white boy so I deserve to live. I can get CBT and SSRIs but if you’re from the DRC you and the whole rest of your slaughtered community can get half a minute after the story about - I don’t fucking know, a cat that looks like Einstein. Or the fact that some other white guy said something mean but true about ballet. My carbon footprint is literally the same as that of a hundred Congalese people. I consume and I take and if I ever achieve anything it’s another white guy succeeding at the cost of women or BIPOC or disabled or whatever minority. I’m on the wrong side of every statistic, but if I killed myself it’d be a tragedy. The fucking hypocrisy. The food I eat destroys habitats. The clothes I wear are either made by slave labour or, I don’t know, take jobs away from the countries that need them. The house I live in could go to someone else who needs a roof over their head. The shampoo I use was probably tested on rats or something, I don’t know, I haven’t checked. My existence causes pain. Ask not for whom the bell tolls. Just know it’s one less fucker helping us to speed-run the apocalypse. So why not just fucking do it? If I’m too cowardly to do the right thing, and that’s what it is, really, it’s fucking cowardice, because I can blame everyone else but really it’s not them stopping me is it? It’s the hope that I’ve missed something. Fuck now I’m uncomfortable. Why does it feel like such a threat? Like it’s suffocating, like it’s literally wrapping something around my throat to think that it might get better. It’s cold and plastic and choking. But I didn’t want it to get better. I wanted to do something. I wanted to have the power to do something. I didn’t want to be happy. Why would I deserve to be happy? And heaven wasn’t helping me do that so why not hell? I’m evil. I breathe in oxygen and I spit out CO2. That’s all I fucking do. But there’s something inside me which knows what good is. Something dark. And covered in blood. Sophie saw that. I thought Sophie saw that. Bune. Did you fall because you knew heaven would not abide by what it would take to actually get something done? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "bloody_handed_saint" time 0>><<audio "bloody_handed_saint" play>><</timed>> They stood together, the angel and the beast. One was tall, with sharp features and long, quick limbs. His wings, grey-specked white, reached from horizon to horizon. The beast was a small thing, snuffling and slobbering around the angel’s feet. It squealed and chased its own tail. The angel watched it with disgust. Gold floated by on the current. The beast’s eyes lit up and it skittered inelegantly forward. Then it glanced back. The angel returned the look; scorn and shame. "Why you?" the angel asked. The beast drooled in response. The angel laughed. "You are neither grand nor pitiable enough to be worthy." Both stared at the other. Blood dripped from the tips of the angel’s fingers. The beast bit its own tail and whimpered with the pain. Then the angel said, smiling: "Good. That you may have," and it folded its wings around the beast so all it could see was white. [[Return|"What is your real sin?"]] <<if $HoH is true>> Pfft, I'm not reading that. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "for_you_to" time 0>><<audio "for_you_to" play>><</timed>> "A ritual?" You explain to her what you need. Power and vitality. She nods. "I know a rite. An old thing, of my grandmother’s. But I don’t have all I need for it. There’s a flower I need, the [[Death’s Forgotten.]] But I don’t grow any any more. Not since my hands began to shake. I won’t use gloves you see. I need to be able to feel. "I know someone who does grow it. A lonely man, who has a house up on the hill, in the rich part of town. I know he grows it because the city ordered that he dig it up from the front of his house after children broke in to play in his flower beds. He came to me to ask how to keep it inside. I did not ask why it was important to him, but I could tell that it was. "Here, let me get you the address." She stands slowly, the motion uneven and non-linear. She shuffles and lopes over to an old cabinet, some drawers rattling as she pulls them open, some so full they refuse to close. Pieces of paper fall to the floor like dry leaves and she groans when she bends to pick them up. "Here," she says, handing over a piece of clear white paper marred by an address of a town in the manor district scrawled in smudged ink, "bring me some Death’s Forgotten and I will perform a rite of the forest for you." [[Leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> "A ritual?" You explain to her what you need. Power and vitality. She nods. "I know a rite. An old thing, of my grandmother’s. But I don’t have all I need for it. There’s a flower I need, the Death’s Forgotten. But I don’t grow any any more. Not since my hands began to shake. I won’t use gloves you see. I need to be able to feel. "I know someone who does grow it. A lonely man, who has a house up on the hill, in the rich part of town. I know he grows it because the city ordered that he dig it up from the front of his house after children broke in to play in his flower beds. He came to me to ask how to keep it inside. I did not ask why it was important to him, but I could tell that it was. "Here, let me get you the address." She stands slowly, the motion uneven and non-linear. She shuffles and lopes over to an old cabinet, some drawers rattling as she pulls them open, some so full they refuse to close. Pieces of paper fall to the floor like dry leaves and she groans when she bends to pick them up. "Here," she says, handing over a piece of clear white paper marred by an address of a town in the manor district scrawled in smudged ink, "bring me some Death’s Forgotten and I will perform a rite of the forest for you." <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 9 + $SinnerHostility>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "bring_them_to_SUC" time 0>><<audio "bring_them_to_SUC" play>>The man takes a half step back, waking from a dream. He blinks rapidly, his lower lip quivering. His right hand fumbles in the rolls of his nightgown and for a moment you see a flash of steel before he raises both hands in supplication. "I will grow more," he says, although you know he is speaking to himself. He turns and you follow him up the stairs to a cold bedroom. A planter filled with Death’s Forgotten lies looking out at the darkness of the western sky propped on a table butchered into an extension of a windowsill. The man is cowering in the corner, gesturing between you and them. You take your crop and leave. You know he is following. You look over your shoulder when you are out on the street. He is huddled in the cracked open front door, shivering as he watches you until you [[disappear into the shadows of the town.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "bring_them_to_FAI" time 0>><<audio "bring_them_to_FAI" play>>The man sways, then fumbles in the folds of his nightgown. You see a flash of steel for a moment and you know how this must end. He is no match for you. He barely even draws his weapon. But he screams as he dies. A shrill, frail thing, but you know that neighbours must have heard it. You know that, soon, there will be people coming with questions. You do not have much time. You become whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guard see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters. [[Disappear into the shadows of the town.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 9 + $SinnerHostility>>The man takes a half step back, waking from a dream. He blinks rapidly, his lower lip quivering. His right hand fumbles in the rolls of his nightgown and for a moment you see a flash of steel before he raises both hands in supplication. "I will grow more," he says, although you know he is speaking to himself. He turns and you follow him up the stairs to a cold bedroom. A planter filled with Death’s Forgotten lies looking out at the darkness of the western sky propped on a table butchered into an extension of a windowsill. The man is cowering in the corner, gesturing between you and them. You take your crop and leave. You know he is following. You look over your shoulder when you are out on the street. He is huddled in the cracked open front door, shivering as he watches you until you disappear into the shadows of the town.<<else>>The man sways, then fumbles in the folds of his nightgown. You see a flash of steel for a moment and you know how this must end. He is no match for you. He barely even draws his weapon. But he screams as he dies. A shrill, frail thing, but you know that neighbours must have heard it. You know that, soon, there will be people coming with questions. You do not have much time. You become whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guard see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters.<</if>> <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 6 + $SinnerHostility>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "tell_me_why_SUC" time 0>><<audio "tell_me_why_SUC" play>><</timed>>The man looks at you for a moment longer. "You’re a demon. A thing from hell. You’ve come for me," he gasps and his hand goes to his chest. "The flowers, you must know. The flowers take me to the darkness. Horrible places. With my father. And my sister. Places I deserve to be. It’s all I deserve. "But now I … with you here. I don’t want to go. I don’t want it to end. "I’m so afraid. "Please. I’ll give you the flowers. Just let me wake up. "I want to see the light again. I want another chance." You follow the man to his bedroom, where he shows you a planter filled with Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. As you [[walk down the stairs|Got flowers]] you hear him crying, his voice hitching as he tries to remember the words to a prayer.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "bring_them_to_FAI" time 0>><<audio "bring_them_to_FAI" play>>The man sways, then fumbles in the folds of his nightgown. You see a flash of steel for a moment and you know how this must end. He is no match for you. He barely even draws his weapon. But he screams as he dies. A shrill, frail thing, but you know that neighbours must have heard it. You know that, soon, there will be people coming with questions. You do not have much time. You become whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guard see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters. [[Disappear into the shadows of the town.|Got flowers]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 6 + $SinnerHostility>>The man looks at you for a moment longer. "You’re a demon. A thing from hell. You’ve come for me," he gasps and his hand goes to his chest. "The flowers, you must know. The flowers take me to the darkness. Horrible places. With my father. And my sister. Places I deserve to be. It’s all I deserve. "But now I … with you here. I don’t want to go. I don’t want it to end. "I’m so afraid. "Please. I’ll give you the flowers. Just let me wake up. "I want to see the light again. I want another chance." You follow the man to his bedroom, where he shows you a planter filled with Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. As you walk down the stairs you hear him crying, his voice hitching as he tries to remember the words to a prayer.<<else>>The man sways, then fumbles in the folds of his nightgown. You see a flash of steel for a moment and you know how this must end. He is no match for you. He barely even draws his weapon. But he screams as he dies. A shrill, frail thing, but you know that neighbours must have heard it. You know that, soon, there will be people coming with questions. You do not have much time. You become whirlwind, racing through the house, focussed on one thing: black flowers, yellow centres. That you find them is inevitable. Eventually all that is hidden will be revealed by the blinding fires of Hell. They sit on a windowsill inexpertly extended by a mutilated table, a whole planter of Death’s Forgotten looking out at the darkness of the western sky. You are sure that the guard see you as you dash away from the house. You hear their gasps even as you disappear down the street. Bravado stifled screams. They will tell the Witch Hunters.<</if>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "do_not_ask" time 0>><<audio "do_not_ask" play>><</timed>> The man continues to cry, but his hands dance around his face, his fingers twitching towards you and then away, towards his heart. "I want to live. I do. I want to live. But I must repent. My immortal soul. I would choose my soul. I see that now. Oh how I have sinned. Please. I do beg you. Dark angel. You may take my body, but I pray to the Lord that he will take my soul in martyrdom!" You explain that he may have his body and his soul, but he must first do something for you. A ritual to grant you power. He blubs more, whines about deals with the devil. You remind him that he has no choice. If you take his life now, his unconfessed sins will put his soul outside of communion and he will burn and rot and writhe in hell for all eternities. You remind him that if he had not already sinned then you would have no power. So, you ask, have you sinned? He will do what you demand. But only if you can assure him that his soul will not be forfeit. He says that if you can bring him something to protect his soul, the cross of a truly pious man, then he will perform your ritual. He says that the only truly pious man he knows is his former teacher, Father Allan, now sexton of St Cassian’s in the slums. However, if he can have no assurance of his soul, he says through his tears, he will not compound sin with sin and he will trust to God’s mercy. [[Leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> The man continues to cry, but his hands dance around his face, his fingers twitching towards you and then away, towards his heart. "I want to live. I do. I want to live. But I must repent. My immortal soul. I would choose my soul. I see that now. Oh how I have sinned. Please. I do beg you. Dark angel. You may take my body, but I pray to the Lord that he will take my soul in martyrdom!" You explain that he may have his body and his soul, but he must first do something for you. A ritual to grant you power. He blubs more, whines about deals with the devil. You remind him that he has no choice. If you take his life now, his unconfessed sins will put his soul outside of communion and he will burn and rot and writhe in hell for all eternities. You remind him that if he had not already sinned then you would have no power. So, you ask, have you sinned? He will do what you demand. But only if you can assure him that his soul will not be forfeit. He says that if you can bring him something to protect his soul, the cross of a truly pious man, then he will perform your ritual. He says that the only truly pious man he knows is his former teacher, Father Allan, now sexton of St Cassian’s in the slums. However, if he can have no assurance of his soul, he says through his tears, he will not compound sin with sin and he will trust to God’s mercy. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "if_you_wish" time 0>><<audio "if_you_wish" play>><</timed>> The man nods and begins to wipe away his tears, but his composure is short-lived before he starts weeping again. "But how could I trust you? You are a devil. An enemy of God. You could not redeem my soul." You challenge him. You ask him why would God suffer demons to exist if they were not part of his plan? If a man is a sinner, why would he be blessed with a visit from an angel? Perhaps you know nothing of redemption, but you know sin and what a man can do to make himself your master’s property. "But you are a devil," the man says when you are done. His eyes, however, are dry and his tone faltering. He will listen. You explain to him that you need him to perform a ritual. A service for hell. And in return, hell will owe him a favour. Some things could be overlooked. A man could be sent up when he is supposed to go down. The scribe shakes his head. "I will not make a deal with a demon unless I have assurance. Unless I can see the light of the holy." He will do what you demand. But only if you can assure him that his soul will not be forfeit. He says that if you can bring him something to protect his soul, the cross of a truly pious man, then he will perform your ritual. He says that the only truly pious man he knows is his former teacher, Father Allan, now sexton of St Cassian’s in the slums. However, if he can have no assurance of his soul, he says through his tears, he will not compound sin with sin and he will trust to God’s mercy. [[Leave.|the town]] <<if $HoH is true>> The man nods and begins to wipe away his tears, but his composure is short-lived before he starts weeping again. "But how could I trust you? You are a devil. An enemy of God. You could not redeem my soul." You challenge him. You ask him why would God suffer demons to exist if they were not part of his plan? If a man is a sinner, why would he be blessed with a visit from an angel? Perhaps you know nothing of redemption, but you know sin and what a man can do to make himself your master’s property. "But you are a devil," the man says when you are done. His eyes, however, are dry and his tone faltering. He will listen. You explain to him that you need him to perform a ritual. A service for hell. And in return, hell will owe him a favour. Some things could be overlooked. A man could be sent up when he is supposed to go down. The scribe shakes his head. "I will not make a deal with a demon unless I have assurance. Unless I can see the light of the holy." He will do what you demand. But only if you can assure him that his soul will not be forfeit. He says that if you can bring him something to protect his soul, the cross of a truly pious man, then he will perform your ritual. He says that the only truly pious man he knows is his former teacher, Father Allan, now sexton of St Cassian’s in the slums. However, if he can have no assurance of his soul, he says through his tears, he will not compound sin with sin and he will trust to God’s mercy. <</if>>

<<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion + 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "kill_the_scribe" time 0>><<audio "kill_the_scribe" play>><</timed>> The scribe is running before you’ve finished taking your second step towards him. He’s blubbering and shrieking and now screaming as he realises that in his panic he has done nothing but turned and run back towards his bed. He beats at you with his book and for a few seconds it looks as if he is doing something. He bats away one hand and with the next swipe your claw becomes stuck in the thick binding. With your third swipe you rake him across the face. One eye bursts and the other fills with its fluid as his head snaps to the side. Your next slice rakes along his throat. He chokes blood up through the holes. Someone will have heard the screaming. You [[leave him to his death|the town]] and whatever will follow it. Perhaps that will depend on whether he can finish his crawl across the floor to the fallen crucifix before he passes. <<if $HoH is true>> The scribe is running before you’ve finished taking your second step towards him. He’s blubbering and shrieking and- [Slamming noise.] [Panicked screaming.] No, no, NO! [More screaming.] [Strangled, pained noises.] <</if>>

<<if $Crucifix is not true>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "nave" time 0>><<audio "nave" play>><</timed>>You creep in through the devil’s door, of course, and hide behind the font. You watch an older man in monk’s robes carefully dusting the universally chipped and worn faunal pew poppyheads. He works carefully, pushing his threadbare cloth into the deepest recesses of the carvings, moving his fingers gently over the old wood. His clothes are as basic as his manner, a wool cloak covers his entire body from neck to sandalled feet. His only ornamentation is a silver cross hanging from a cord around his neck. <<if not hasVisited("The scribe’s.")>><<if $DiaconiconFinished is not true>>[[This man has nothing for you. Move past him to the diaconicon.|diaconicon]] <</if>>[[This man has nothing for you. Leave.|the town]] [[Avoid the man and explore the altar atop the dais.|altar]]<<else>><<set $MonkAwareness to 0>>[[Sneak across nave into the shadows behind the pews, closer to the man.]] <<link "Sneak up directly behind the man." "Sneak up directly behind the man.">><<set $MonkAwareness to $MonkAwareness + 2>><</link>> [[Take on a guise and step out into the light.]] <<if $DiaconiconFinished is not true>>[[Leave the man and go to the diaconicon.|diaconicon]] <</if>>[[Avoid the man and explore the altar atop the dais.|altar]] [[Leave the church.|the town]]<</if>><<else>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "nave_2" time 0>><<audio "nave_2" play>><</timed>>You enter the now empty nave. At the far end is the [[altar]], raised on a dais. Other than that, there is nothing else for you in the nave, so you might as well [[leave.|the town]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $Crucifix is not true>>You creep in through the devil’s door, of course, and hide behind the font. You watch an older man in monk’s robes carefully dusting the universally chipped and worn faunal pew poppyheads. He works carefully, pushing his threadbare cloth into the deepest recesses of the carvings, moving his fingers gently over the old wood. His clothes are as basic as his manner, a wool cloak covers his entire body from neck to sandalled feet. His only ornamentation is a silver cross hanging from a cord around his neck.<<else>>You enter the now empty nave. At the far end is the altar, raised on a dais. Other than that, there is nothing else for you in the nave, so you might as well leave.<</if>> <</if>>

<><<if visited() is 3>> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "diaconicon_2" time 0>><<audio "diaconicon_2" play>> <</timed>> <<else>> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "diaconicon_1" time 0>><<audio "diaconicon_1" play>> <</timed>> <</if>> <> You look into the diaconicon, a holy space protected from incursion by profane presence by wards of tradition and taboo. You look into the diaconicon, a storage cupboard. The priest sits at the table usually, and liturgically, reserved for the laying of vestments. A large stack of papers sits at one hand, a smaller at the other, and the priest sighs heavily as he continues the long task of redressing the imbalance between them. Page after page is taken, very briefly scanned, and signed. Behind the priest lie the cupboards and drawers containing the props and utensils needed for the various mysteries of the church. <<if hasVisited("The butcher’s.") and not $Signature is true>>[[Sneak into the room and slip the butcher’s contract into the priest’s pile of papers.]] [[The priest is alone in a side room. Force him to sign your contract.]] [[Do not risk this now. You can always come back later.|the town]]<<else>>There is no reason for you to be here. No use risking something. Better to [[leave.|the town]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 3>>[Slowly, overpronouncing the word 'diaconicon', then faster and faster.]<<else>> You look into the diaconicon, a holy space protected from incursion by profane presence by wards of tradition and taboo. You look into the diaconicon, a storage cupboard. The priest sits at the table usually, and liturgically, reserved for the laying of vestments. A large stack of papers sits at one hand, a smaller at the other, and the priest sighs heavily as he continues the long task of redressing the imbalance between them. Page after page is taken, very briefly scanned, and signed. Behind the priest lie the cupboards and drawers containing the props and utensils needed for the various mysteries of the church. There is no reason for you to be here. No use risking something. Better to leave.<</if>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "church_altar" time 0>><<audio "church_altar" play>><</timed>> In a simple church, in a simple neighbourhood, the altar is a simple stone block, indistinguishable in all but its size from the hundreds which make up the walls of its housing. The lavishly hand-illustrated book, the golden chalice, and the pure silver offerings plate, all securely chained to the stone of the altar, are, however and of course, far from simple. [[Examine the book.]] [[Examine the cup.]] [[Examine the plate.]] <<if $HoH is true>> In a simple church, in a simple neighbourhood, the altar is a simple stone block, indistinguishable in all but its size from the hundreds which make up the walls of its housing. The lavishly hand-illustrated book, the golden chalice, and the pure silver offerings plate, all securely chained to the stone of the altar, are, however and of course, far from simple. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "sneak_across_nave" time 0>><<audio "sneak_across_nave" play>><</timed>> <> It is no challenge to move silently across the uneven stone floor and slip into the darkness between two rows of pews. The man moves slowly towards you, taking as long as is needed to fully clean each carving. He is almost parallel with you when he stops suddenly, his hand going to his silver cross. His eyes have gone wide and he is breathing deeply. <<link "Wait just long enough for his hand to go back down, then dash forward and grab the cross." "Wait for whatever this is to pass, wait for him to come to you to grab the cross.">><<set $MonkAwareness to $MonkAwareness + 5>><</link>> [[Wait for whatever this is to pass, wait for him to come to you to grab the cross.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You stalk forward, the man is just there, a step closer, he’s leaning down, closer, delicately wiping dust from under the hooves of a carved lamb, closer. He straightens, the cloth cupped in his hand. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "take_on_a" time 0>><<audio "take_on_a" play>><</timed>> <> You step out into the flickering light of the lantern. But when the man turns to you, what does he see? [[An angel shining with the bright glory of the lord.]] [[A woman with flaxen hair and high cheekbones.]] [[A dirt-smeared beggar in unpatched rags.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You step out into the flickering light of the lantern. But when the man turns to you, what does he see? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "examine_the_book" time 0>><<audio "examine_the_book" play>><</timed>> A holy book, hundreds of pages, thousands of lines, hundreds of thousands of words. A very large space in which to hide very few truths. [[Examine the cup.]] [[Examine the plate.]] <<if $HoH is true>> A holy book, hundreds of pages, thousands of lines, hundreds of thousands of words. A very large space in which to hide very few truths. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "examine_the_cup" time 0>><<audio "examine_the_cup" play>><</timed>> The most surprising thing about the cup, or goblet, is not the golden foot larger than the cup itself, nor the detailed floral filigree, nor the inscription in a language most of the congregation see only in this church, but the fact that its designer had the restraint to avoid inlaying it with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. You discover the most interesting thing when you pick up the cup and examine its underside. There is a strange pattern there, much cruder than the details rendered on the rest of the vessel. It is a circle, inside which is written "Secondary", and below which is an arrow pointing to the right. Somewhere inside you, something magical, something prophetic or fated, stirs. This is something worth remembering. Something you need to remember. Take note of it. Secondary: circle right. You are sure you have found what there is to find here, at this altar. There is no point staying longer than is needed. [[Leave the altar.|The slum church.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The most surprising thing about the cup, or goblet, is not the golden foot larger than the cup itself, nor the detailed floral filigree, nor the inscription in a language most of the congregation see only in this church, but the fact that its designer had the restraint to avoid inlaying it with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. You discover the most interesting thing when you pick up the cup and examine its underside. There is a strange pattern there, much cruder than the details rendered on the rest of the vessel. It is a circle, inside which is written "Secondary", and below which is an arrow pointing to the right. Somewhere inside you, something magical, something prophetic or fated, stirs. This is something worth remembering. Something you need to remember. Take note of it. Secondary: circle right. You are sure you have found what there is to find here, at this altar. There is no point staying longer than is needed. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "examine_the_plate" time 0>><<audio "examine_the_plate" play>><</timed>> A silver offerings plate, its rims shining with the polish of a hundred hands, its interior a maze of swirling scratches, a testament to the uncountable base metal coins which have been placed against its surface. [[Examine the book.]] [[Examine the cup.]] <<if $HoH is true>> A silver offerings plate, its rims shining with the polish of a hundred hands, its interior a maze of swirling scratches, a testament to the uncountable base metal coins which have been placed against its surface. <</if>>

<<set $Crucifix to true>> Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 7 + $MonkAwareness>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "wait_for_whatever_SUC" time 0>><<audio "wait_for_whatever_SUC" play>>You move as a shadow amongst shadows. A dark cloud against a starless sky. Your claw, a crescent moon, the only light in the blackness, slashes out and cuts the cord of the cross as the monk composes himself. Your other hand catches the crucifix before it falls to the ground and as the monk steps to the next carving you are gone, [[back into the night.|The slum church.]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +1>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "wait_for_whatever_FAI" time 0>><<audio "wait_for_whatever_FAI" play>>The man is right above you. You have little opportunity to do this right. It would be so easy to fail. Which you do. Or at least, you fail to remain unseen. The man screams when he sees you, but regains his composure very quickly and begins to chant. But here he fails, because as he reaches for his main weapon, the most holy symbol of his faith, he finds that it is not there. It is already in your hand and you are already retreating, the force of his chanting pushing you back with a quite literal physical force. This man will go straight to the Witch Hunters. Neither he nor they will rest. But you have [[work to do.|the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 7 + $MonkAwareness>>You move as a shadow amongst shadows. A dark cloud against a starless sky. Your claw, a crescent moon, the only light in the blackness, slashes out and cuts the cord of the cross as the monk composes himself. Your other hand catches the crucifix before it falls to the ground and as the monk steps to the next carving you are gone, back into the night.<<else>>You move as a shadow amongst shadows. A dark cloud against a starless sky. Your claw, a crescent moon, the only light in the blackness, slashes out and cuts the cord of the cross as the monk composes himself. Your other hand catches the crucifix before it falls to the ground and as the monk steps to the next carving you are gone, back into the night.<<else>>The man is right above you. You have little opportunity to do this right. It would be so easy to fail. Which you do. Or at least, you fail to remain unseen. The man screams when he sees you, but regains his composure very quickly and begins to chant. But here he fails, because as he reaches for his main weapon, the most holy symbol of his faith, he finds that it is not there. It is already in your hand and you are already retreating, the force of his chanting pushing you back with a quite literal physical force. This man will go straight to the Witch Hunters. Neither he nor they will rest. But you have work to do.<</if>> <</if>>

<><<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "sneak_up_directly" time 0>><<audio "sneak_up_directly" play>> <</timed>> <> You stalk forward, the man is just there, a step closer, he’s leaning down, closer, delicately wiping dust from under the hooves of a carved lamb, closer. He straightens, the cloth cupped in his hand. <<link "Rush forward and grab the cross before he has the chance to turn." "Rush forward and grab the cross before he has the chance to turn.">><<set $MonkAwareness to $MonkAwareness + 2>><</link>> [[Keep moving steadily and stealthily forward.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You stalk forward, the man is just there, a step closer, he’s leaning down, closer, delicately wiping dust from under the hooves of a carved lamb, closer. He straightens, the cloth cupped in his hand. <</if>>

<<set $Crucifix to true>> Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 7 + $MonkAwareness>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "keep_moving_steadily" time 0>><<audio "keep_moving_steadily" play>>The man has every opportunity to turn around and see you standing completely in the open. But to do so would be to pause in his duty. He takes two steps forward and bends to begin brushing cobwebs away from between the broken antlers of a stag. When you snake a claw out and cut the cord around his neck, when you lean forward to catch the falling cross, he does not move, his eyes do not flicker away from the object of his task, and you are free to [[leave|The slum church.]] the nave unmolested.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_1" play>>One of your claws spark against the stone as you stumble forward. The man turns at the sound. He gasps, his lined face drawn taught and white by shock. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and when your hand closes around the crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 35s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a [[stop|the town]] in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 7 + $MonkAwareness>>The man has every opportunity to turn around and see you standing completely in the open. But to do so would be to pause in his duty. He takes two steps forward and bends to begin brushing cobwebs away from between the broken antlers of a stag. When you snake a claw out and cut the cord around his neck, when you lean forward to catch the falling cross, he does not move, his eyes do not flicker away from the object of his task, and you are free to leave the nave unmolested.<<else>>One of your claws spark against the stone as you stumble forward. The man turns at the sound. He gasps, his lined face drawn taught and white by shock. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and when your hand closes around the crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<if $Manifest > 0>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a stop in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</if>> <</if>>

<<set $Crucifix to true>> Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 7 + $MonkAwareness>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_SUC" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_SUC" play>>The stones are slippery beneath your feet, so you must turn in odd ways as you run to avoid your claws giving you away by clicking against the uneven surface. But you manage. You snake a claw out and cut the crucifix’s cord, grabbing the cross as it falls and [[disappearing|The slum church.]] into the darkness of the aisle without the man knowing you were there.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_1" play>>One of your claws spark against the stone as you stumble forward. The man turns at the sound. He gasps, his lined face drawn taught and white by shock. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and when your hand closes around the crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 35s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a [[stop|the town]] in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 7 + $MonkAwareness>>The stones are slippery beneath your feet, so you must turn in odd ways as you run to avoid your claws giving you away by clicking against the uneven surface. But you manage. You snake a claw out and cut the crucifix’s cord, grabbing the cross as it falls and disappearing into the darkness of the aisle without the man knowing you were there.<<else>>One of your claws spark against the stone as you stumble forward. The man turns at the sound. He gasps, his lined face drawn taught and white by shock. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and when your hand closes around the crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<if $Manifest > 0>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a stop in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</if>> <</if>>

<<set $Crucifix to true>> Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 11>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "an_angel_shining_SUC" time 0>><<audio "an_angel_shining_SUC" play>>The man looks up at you and while you see shock in his eyes and awe pulling at the bottom of his jaw, he does not fall to the ground, he does not begin to cross himself, he does not start to sing hallelujahs. He bows, respectfully but not deeply, and casts his eyes aside. "How may I serve?" he asks the floor by your glowing feet, the phantom light scattered into non-existence by the stone’s rough surface. You tell him that you need his crucifix. An artefact blessed by the hand of one truly devout. A little flattery always helps, even with a man like this. He steps forward and drops it into your hand. You make some gestures suggestive of a blessing and [[leave|The slum church.]] the man with a greater gift than he could have dreamed of.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "an_angel_shining_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "an_angel_shining_FAI_1" play>>The man turns to you, the breath catching in his throat when he sees what you are. He trembles, and while you do see awe, you also see fear. You take a step closer and as your foot clacks against the rough stone he looks down. A crown of fur circles just above what would be your ankle, and below that a black hoof split in two. The man’s eyes go wide. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and as you dash forward to steal his crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 50s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a [[stop|the town]] in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 11>>The man looks up at you and while you see shock in his eyes and awe pulling at the bottom of his jaw, he does not fall to the ground, he does not begin to cross himself, he does not start to sing hallelujahs. He bows, respectfully but not deeply, and casts his eyes aside. "How may I serve?" he asks the floor by your glowing feet, the phantom light scattered into non-existence by the stone’s rough surface. You tell him that you need his crucifix. An artefact blessed by the hand of one truly devout. A little flattery always helps, even with a man like this. He steps forward and drops it into your hand. You make some gestures suggestive of a blessing and leave the man with a greater gift than he could have dreamed of.<<else>>The man turns to you, the breath catching in his throat when he sees what you are. He trembles, and while you do see awe, you also see fear. You take a step closer and as your foot clacks against the rough stone he looks down. A crown of fur circles just above what would be your ankle, and below that a black hoof split in two. The man’s eyes go wide. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and as you dash forward to steal his crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<if $Manifest > 0>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a stop in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</if>> <</if>>

<<set $Crucifix to true>> Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 17>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "a_woman_with_SUC" time 0>><<audio "a_woman_with_SUC" play>>The man looks at you as if you were some bright light that has not only burnt out his retinas, but his entire capacity for thought. You walk forward and hold your hand out for his crucifix. It is in your hand and you are [[out|The slum church.]] of the nave before the man begins to process what has happened.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "a_woman_with_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "a_woman_with_FAI_1" play>>The man looks at you and smiles. "Can I help you with something?" he asks. You open your mouth to answer and find a forked tongue sneaking out between your lips. The man’s eyes go wide. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and as you dash forward to steal his crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 41s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a [[stop|the town]] in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 16>>[Sigh.] Well done. If you're here you're either both stupid and incredibly lucky, or I've fucked up my numbers. Congrats.<<else>>The man looks at you and smiles. "Can I help you with something?" he asks. You open your mouth to answer and find a forked tongue sneaking out between your lips. The man’s eyes go wide. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and as you dash forward to steal his crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<if $Manifest > 0>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a stop in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</if>> <</if>>

<<set $Crucifix to true>> Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 9>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "a_dirt_smeared_SUC" time 0>><<audio "a_dirt_smeared_SUC" play>>The man looks up and smiles kindly at you as you hobble across the floor towards him. He asks you how he can help you. You tell him that you are looking for charity, but not the kind of charity which could be found in coins or vittles. You seek spiritual aid. Your family had a crucifix, but some rogue stole it and now you feel bereft of God’s light. Or somesuch. The man, as you knew he would, takes pity on you and offers not just any crucifix, but his own. You say you could not possibly take it from him. Then you take it from him. So that when you [[leave|The slum church.]], he feels he has gained more than you have. The fool.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "a_woman_with_FAI_1" time 0>><<audio "a_woman_with_FAI_1" play>>The man looks at you and smiles. "Can I help you with something?" he asks. You open your mouth to answer and find a forked tongue sneaking out between your lips. The man’s eyes go wide. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and as you dash forward to steal his crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<timed 41s>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" time 0>><<audio "rush_forward_and_FAI_2" play>><</timed>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a [[stop|the town]] in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 9>>The man looks up and smiles kindly at you as you hobble across the floor towards him. He asks you how he can help you. You tell him that you are looking for charity, but not the kind of charity which could be found in coins or vittles. You seek spiritual aid. Your family had a crucifix, but some rogue stole it and now you feel bereft of God’s light. Or somesuch. The man, as you knew he would, takes pity on you and offers not just any crucifix, but his own. You say you could not possibly take it from him. Then you take it from him. So that when you leave, he feels he has gained more than you have. The fool.<<else>>The man looks at you and smiles. "Can I help you with something?" he asks. You open your mouth to answer and find a forked tongue sneaking out between your lips. The man’s eyes go wide. He begins to chant, holding out his cross in an attempt to ward you away. It would usually do nothing. Your kind are accustomed to that. But this stings. The man’s faith comes at you like a force and as you dash forward to steal his crucifix it burns enough to ignite your entire upper arm in an unnatural flame. <<if $Manifest > 0>>You were not prepared for true faith. You turn and you run, as fast as you can, from the place, a place suddenly filled with a purging light only you can see, a material antithesis only you can feel. It is luck, or perhaps some kind of madness within you, rather than strategy or coherent thought that finds you still clutching the crucifix in your burnt hand when you finally come to a stop in a dark slums alleyway.<</if>><</if>> <</if>>

<<set $DiaconiconFinished to true>> Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 11>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Signature to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_into_diaconicon_SUC" time 0>><<audio "sneak_into_diaconicon_SUC" play>>You wait until the man sits back and stares at the ceiling, laying the back of his hand along his forehead and letting out something between a sigh and grunt. Even by the light of the single flickering candle, he would easily be able to see you if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. Nor does he want to see when he picks up the contract a few minutes later. His eyes scan over the words, but he clearly does not take in any of them, because he signs the sheet just as he signs all the others. It is not long before he makes his next silent plea to the heavens, and you are [[off and away.|the town]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_into_diaconicon_FAI" time 0>><<audio "sneak_into_diaconicon_FAI" play>>You wait until the man sits back and stares at the ceiling, laying the back of his hand along his forehead and letting out something between a sigh and grunt. Then you move in. You sneak to the priest’s side and slide the contract into his pile of papers near the top. Then you move behind him to wait. You are not prepared when he stands very suddenly and begins to pace the room. He makes it half a stride before he is face to face with you. You both spend a second on the back foot. Then he screams. [[Kill the priest.]] [[Run from the church.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 11>>You wait until the man sits back and stares at the ceiling, laying the back of his hand along his forehead and letting out something between a sigh and grunt. Even by the light of the single flickering candle, he would easily be able to see you if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. Nor does he want to see when he picks up the contract a few minutes later. His eyes scan over the words, but he clearly does not take in any of them, because he signs the sheet just as he signs all the others. It is not long before he makes his next silent plea to the heavens, and you are off and away.<<else>> You wait until the man sits back and stares at the ceiling, laying the back of his hand along his forehead and letting out something between a sigh and grunt. Then you move in. You sneak to the priest’s side and slide the contract into his pile of papers near the top. Then you move behind him to wait. You are not prepared when he stands very suddenly and begins to pace the room. He makes it half a stride before he is face to face with you. You both spend a second on the back foot. Then he screams.<</if>> <</if>>

<<set $DiaconiconFinished to true>> Rolling Overpower... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Overpower + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 14 >><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<set $Signature to true>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "the_priest_is_SUC" time 0>><<audio "the_priest_is_SUC" play>>You walk boldly into the room. The priest looks up from his paperwork but you are upon him faster than he can draw breath to scream. Your presence does a better job of convincing him that it would be in his interests not to scream than any spoken demand could. You place the piece of paper on his desk. His eyes flit from it to you. You tell him, as a kindness, that signing will not forfeit his soul. You know, secretly, that it is already far too late for that. He signs and hands you back the paper, whining the entire time. A fat puppy pulled from its mother to have its tail docked. You [[leave the man behind|the town]], furiously crossing himself. He will tell no-one, you are sure. Likely he will do everything he can to forget it himself.<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<set $Signature to true>><<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +1>><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "the_priest_is_FAI" time 0>><<audio "the_priest_is_FAI" play>>You walk boldly into the room. The priest looks up from his paperwork but you are upon him faster than he can draw breath to scream. Your presence does a better job of convincing him that it would be in his interests not to scream than any spoken demand could. You place the piece of paper on his desk. His eyes flit from it to you. He shakes his head. He begins to stand, pulling a large, jewel-encrusted crucifix from within his robes. You attempt to swipe it out of his hand, but he struggles and when it does fall to the floor a finger goes with it. He gapes, then attempts to run. You catch him and force him to the floor. Blood spurts from a broken nose. You pull him back, your hand over his mouth as he attempts to scream. Instinctively, idly, you cut off his tongue, one by one gouge his teeth out of his gums. By the time you have him sitting back in his chair so much of his blood has soaked into his clothes and splattered across the floor that you are forced to move his arm for him as you puppet him into signing the blood-spattered contract. Yet still, as you [[leave|the town]], you hear a door open and close behind you. You doubt the priest will make it far. But someone will find his body. Others will know that something more than human is in the town tonight.<</timed>><</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 14 >>You walk boldly into the room. The priest looks up from his paperwork but you are upon him faster than he can draw breath to scream. Your presence does a better job of convincing him that it would be in his interests not to scream than any spoken demand could. You place the piece of paper on his desk. His eyes flit from it to you. You tell him, as a kindness, that signing will not forfeit his soul. You know, secretly, that it is already far too late for that. He signs and hands you back the paper, whining the entire time. A fat puppy pulled from its mother to have its tail docked. You leave the man behind, furiously crossing himself. He will tell no-one, you are sure. Likely he will do everything he can to forget it himself.<<else>>You walk boldly into the room. The priest looks up from his paperwork but you are upon him faster than he can draw breath to scream. Your presence does a better job of convincing him that it would be in his interests not to scream than any spoken demand could. You place the piece of paper on his desk. His eyes flit from it to you. He shakes his head. He begins to stand, pulling a large, jewel-encrusted crucifix from within his robes. You attempt to swipe it out of his hand, but he struggles and when it does fall to the floor a finger goes with it. He gapes, then attempts to run. You catch him and force him to the floor. Blood spurts from a broken nose. You pull him back, your hand over his mouth as he attempts to scream. Instinctively, idly, you cut off his tongue, one by one gouge his teeth out of his gums. By the time you have him sitting back in his chair so much of his blood has soaked into his clothes and splattered across the floor that you are forced to move his arm for him as you puppet him into signing the blood-spattered contract. Yet still, as you leave, you hear a door open and close behind you. You doubt the priest will make it far. But someone will find his body. Others will know that something more than human is in the town tonight.<</if>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "kill_the_priest" time 0>><<audio "kill_the_priest" play>> <</timed>> <> You have seen people burnt, you have seen them crushed, diced, decapitated, peeled, boiled, decimated, pruned, gassed, poisoned, and exsanguinated. When you burst the priest, the only thing which comes as unexpected is that his flesh does nothing to reknit itself. His corpse simply spreads over the floor with rapidly diminishing momentum. Of course. He is with your master now. He will already be whole there. For a moment. Your contract remains unsigned. You [[leave|the town]] with nothing. <<if $HoH is true>> You have seen people burnt, you have seen them crushed, diced, decapitated, peeled, boiled, decimated, pruned, gassed, poisoned, and exsanguinated. Dark shit. Take it seriously. You’re not taking it seriously. I didn’t take it seriously when I wrote it. Cartoon images of hell. But that’s all happened. The ancient Persians used to bury people in holes with just their heads sticking out and pour in honey and milk. So they didn’t starve. But they’d have the hot Iranian sun on their faces while the hole they were in filled first with rancid milk and sticky honey and then the liquid shit that a diet of nothing but milk and honey would give anyone. They’d die when the honey and milk and shit would cause their skin to blister, and then their blisters would burst and it’d get into their blood. Horrible Histories. You’re still thinking of it wrong. You think things like that aren’t happening right now? Somewhere you’d prefer not to think about, you don’t think there are still people doing that to each other? You think about how none of our society or economics or technology has changed that we’re still the same biological organisms who can’t just conceive of things like that, but actually do them? You’re still not thinking of it right. You’re thinking I sound like Jigsaw, or the Joker. We live in a society. Anything to avoid thinking about it as real. As not just something that could happen to your family, to you, if society cracked just a little more. But it’s happening. There are places where it’s already broken, where burnt, diced, decapitated, peeled, boiled, decimated, pruned, gassed, poisoned, exsanguinated are things which actually fucking happen. [Pause.] Is that why? Is that why Bune! Is that why? Because my petty little miseries are nothing to you who has seen it all? Bune! Bune! Is it because I’m a coward! Is it because I pick it up and I put it down? Is it because I give it but I can’t take it? Is it because I really have no idea what torture is? Even as I sit here? Like this? After all this? Is it because there’s no point while I still have so much further to fall? [Pause] Where more to fall? [Almost weepy breathing, cut mid breath.] <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "run_from_church" time 0>><<audio "run_from_church" play>> <</timed>> <<set $Suspicion = $Suspicion +1>> <> You dash out of the diaconicon, out of the church, out into the [[dark streets of the town.|the town]] For some time you hear the priest behind you, more and more distant, shouting about a demon. It seems few people here are listening to him. But at some point someone will. The Witch Hunters will hear about this. <<if $HoH is true>> You dash out of the diaconicon, out of the church, out into the dark streets of the town. For some time you hear the priest behind you, more and more distant, shouting about a demon. It seems few people here are listening to him. But at some point someone will. The Witch Hunters will hear about this. <</if>>

Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to 8>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. /*I couldn’t think of what would happen if the player failed, so I gave up and now I’m wondering why I didn’t do this more… I mean, you only know I’ve done this because you’ve gone digging in the source code. It’s a fun fact now, not bad game design!*/ <<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "sneak_through_as" time 0>><<audio "sneak_through_as" play>>The next time a grey-robed priest opens one of the doors you move in behind the skirts of a pallid woman, leaving her just a few moments later, one child screaming, the other confused, and the priest scratching his head wondering why he had thought this woman had three offspring rather than just two. [[Explore the inside.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> The next time a grey-robed priest opens one of the doors you move in behind the skirts of a pallid woman, leaving her just a few moments later, one child screaming, the other confused, and the priest scratching his head wondering why he had thought this woman had three offspring rather than just two. <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to 8>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. /*ibid*/ <<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "approach_one_of" time 0>><<audio "approach_one_of" play>>You sneak up to a woman near the edge of the crowd. One child sleeps where it stands, a small hand knotted into the thin fabric of his mother’s skirt, while the woman carries another, the weight of this older child having dragged her spine into a hunch which you are sure will ache for days. The older child’s eyes are firmly closed, but it will not lie still in its mother’s arms, squirming back and forth and coughing every time it does so. The blood on its lips is ruby red, but that on its mother’s chest has dried to a crisp brown. The child is dying. You see it in the mother’s eyes. You let her see you, with no glamours, no illusions, just as you are. And you tell her. A deal with the devil. If she turns aside now, your master will reject her daughter’s soul. Saved through omission. The priest who admits you into the castle is easy to fool. You simply turn his head back to the door and his tired eyes follow, reaching out again and beckoning in the next person. An action he has repeated so many times he no longer remembers which instances were memory and which were fact. [[Explore the inside.]]<</timed>><</timed>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> You sneak up to a woman near the edge of the crowd. One child sleeps where it stands, a small hand knotted into the thin fabric of his mother’s skirt, while the woman carries another, the weight of this older child having dragged her spine into a hunch which you are sure will ache for days. The older child’s eyes are firmly closed, but it will not lie still in its mother’s arms, squirming back and forth and coughing every time it does so. The blood on its lips is ruby red, but that on its mother’s chest has dried to a crisp brown. The child is dying. You see it in the mother’s eyes. You let her see you, with no glamours, no illusions, just as you are. And you tell her. A deal with the devil. If she turns aside now, your master will reject her daughter’s soul. Saved through omission. The priest who admits you into the castle is easy to fool. You simply turn his head back to the door and his tired eyes follow, reaching out again and beckoning in the next person. An action he has repeated so many times he no longer remembers which instances were memory and which were fact. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "explore_the_inside" time 0>><<audio "explore_the_inside" play>><</timed>> You find yourself in a warren. Without entering into any of the rooms and by staying in the darkness between the golden sconces lining the hallways it is easy enough for you to hide. Grey-clad priest-orderlies pass, sometimes impatiently ushering those few from outside who have made it inside for a just a few skin-tingling moments of warmth, but usually just ferrying papers back and forth between countless offices. You spend some time exploring. Most petitioners are taken to confessionals. Judging by how empty their eyes are when they leave, you guess that there is nothing in any of these rooms which would interest you. The offices are too numerous to explore thoroughly, but you do see one particularly shifty looking clerk take a shallow but well-locked box into one, ineffectively checking both ways down the corridor before letting himself in. The cavernous cloakroom might also be interesting. Most important, however, is the way out. You find a solid stone door at the back of a corridor. You see no one approach it, but by the way that the floor turns from cheap wood to ancient stone, and by the wear on said stone, you can tell that this door is the one which leads further into the castle. Where do you go? [[The office with the locked box.]] [[The cloakroom.]] [[Through the great stone door.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You find yourself in a warren. Without entering into any of the rooms and by staying in the darkness between the golden sconces lining the hallways it is easy enough for you to hide. Grey-clad priest-orderlies pass, sometimes impatiently ushering those few from outside who have made it inside for a just a few skin-tingling moments of warmth, but usually just ferrying papers back and forth between countless offices. You spend some time exploring. Most petitioners are taken to confessionals. Judging by how empty their eyes are when they leave, you guess that there is nothing in any of these rooms which would interest you. The offices are too numerous to explore thoroughly, but you do see one particularly shifty looking clerk take a shallow but well-locked box into one, ineffectively checking both ways down the corridor before letting himself in. The cavernous cloakroom might also be interesting. Most important, however, is the way out. You find a solid stone door at the back of a corridor. You see no one approach it, but by the way that the floor turns from cheap wood to ancient stone, and by the wear on said stone, you can tell that this door is the one which leads further into the castle. Where do you go? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_office_with" time 0>><<audio "the_office_with" play>><</timed>> You crack open the door and rush in, ready for a fight if anyone is waiting on the other side. The room, a small, nondescript office without the comforts of either a window or a lit fire, is empty. It takes some looking to find the locked box. The clerk hid it under a fake bottom in a drawer of one of the room’s desks. You crack the simple lock with ease and read the page within. "Sister Meridith found a way back out of the labyrinth. She was far too addled to give us any details on her path through the nightmarish place. "She certainly didn’t make it far enough to verify the rumours of the great travesty, or indeed the whispers of the weapon which could defeat it: ‘Ignore the signs and turn back at the book.’ "We shall have to make more explorations. It occurs to me, with each day that passes, that the others are probably waiting for me to volunteer my own expedition. I am a brave man, I suppose. Pride is a sin, but the Lord rewards honesty and it is only honest to say that standing against the machinery of the church and questioning the Archpatriarch are acts of bravery. But the idea of stepping into the madness of the castle’s labyrinth strikes me in my bowels. The idea drives sweat along my brow. "But if all that we stand for is a farce, we must know. And if there is a way to destroy it, then we must reach it. Turn back when you reach the book. We must find the truth behind those words." If there is anything else of value in this room, you do not find it. And if you cannot find it, then it is not of value. <<if not hasVisited("The cloakroom.")>>[[Explore the cloakroom.|The cloakroom.]] <</if>>[[Go through the great stone door.|Through the great stone door.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You crack open the door and rush in, ready for a fight if anyone is waiting on the other side. The room, a small, nondescript office without the comforts of either a window or a lit fire, is empty. It takes some looking to find the locked box. The clerk hid it under a fake bottom in a drawer of one of the room’s desks. You crack the simple lock with ease and read the page within. "Sister Meridith found a way back out of the labyrinth. She was far too addled to give us any details on her path through the nightmarish place. "She certainly didn’t make it far enough to verify the rumours of the great travesty, or indeed the whispers of the weapon which could defeat it: ‘Ignore the signs and turn back at the book.’ "We shall have to make more explorations. It occurs to me, with each day that passes, that the others are probably waiting for me to volunteer my own expedition. I am a brave man, I suppose. Pride is a sin, but the Lord rewards honesty and it is only honest to say that standing against the machinery of the church and questioning the Archpatriarch are acts of bravery. But the idea of stepping into the madness of the castle’s labyrinth strikes me in my bowels. The idea drives sweat along my brow. "But if all that we stand for is a farce, we must know. And if there is a way to destroy it, then we must reach it. Turn back when you reach the book. We must find the truth behind those words." If there is anything else of value in this room, you do not find it. And if you cannot find it, then it is not of value. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_cloakroom" time 0>><<audio "the_cloakroom" play>><</timed>> The cloakroom was, you guess, built into what used to be the castle chapel. Lines of cloaks, coats, and civilian clothes hang on wooden racks, all screening the line of chests at the back of the room. You move fast, but even so, a thorough examination of the room would take days. You must narrow your search. [[Go through the clothes on the racks.]] [[Open the locks on the chests and examine their contents.]] <<if $HoH is true>> The cloakroom was, you guess, built into what used to be the castle chapel. Lines of cloaks, coats, and civilian clothes hang on wooden racks, all screening the line of chests at the back of the room. You move fast, but even so, a thorough examination of the room would take days. You must narrow your search. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "through_the_great" time 0>><<audio "through_the_great" play>><</timed>> The door is heavy, but it slides open easily upon shining brass hinges. Beyond is a simple room, a cube cut into the grey stone of the side of the hill. Save for the three doors leading out of the room, one to your left, one to your right and one dead ahead of you, there is only one feature of note: a stone pillar rising out of the stone floor. Of its four sides three are blank, but the one facing the door you entered through shows four symbols: a square, a line, a circle, and a triangle. Which way will you go? [[Right|Wrong 1]] [[Forward|Maze 2]] [[Left|Wrong 1]] <<if $HoH is true>> The door is heavy, but it slides open easily upon shining brass hinges. Beyond is a simple room, a cube cut into the grey stone of the side of the hill. Save for the three doors leading out of the room, one to your left, one to your right and one dead ahead of you, there is only one feature of note: a stone pillar rising out of the stone floor. Of its four sides three are blank, but the one facing the door you entered through shows four symbols: a square, a line, a circle, and a triangle. Which way will you go? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "go_through_the" time 0>><<audio "go_through_the" play>><</timed>> You spend a long time, too long a time. You find love notes, hastily hidden jewellery, and plenty of literal dirty laundry. But nothing which will actually be useful. <<if not hasVisited("The office with the locked box.")>>[[Explore the office with the locked box.|The office with the locked box.]] <</if>>[[Go through the great stone door.|Through the great stone door.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You spend a long time, too long a time. You find love notes, hastily hidden jewellery, and plenty of literal dirty laundry. But nothing which will actually be useful. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "open_the_locks" time 0>><<audio "open_the_locks" play>><</timed>> You are familiar with the concept of ‘hidden in plain sight’. You are also familiar with the laws of both anxiety and cliché. So of course a locked chest is where you find a revelation. A short note in an otherwise empty envelope, although judging by its size there was, at some point, more than just a note inside. The note reads: "Make sure the Witch Hunter General receives this TODAY. And if one single coin is missing, she will know, which means I will know. The last thing we need is to give her another reason to increase her demands." You tuck the note back into its envelope. The chests reveal nothing else and you leave before you lose any more time here. <<if not hasVisited("The office with the locked box.")>>[[Explore the office with the locked box.|The office with the locked box.]] <</if>>[[Go through the great stone door.|Through the great stone door.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You are familiar with the concept of ‘hidden in plain sight’. You are also familiar with the laws of both anxiety and cliché. So of course a locked chest is where you find a revelation. A short note in an otherwise empty envelope, although judging by its size there was, at some point, more than just a note inside. The note reads: "Make sure the Witch Hunter General receives this TODAY. And if one single coin is missing, she will know, which means I will know. The last thing we need is to give her another reason to increase her demands." You tuck the note back into its envelope. The chests reveal nothing else and you leave before you lose any more time here. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_two" time 0>><<audio "maze_two" play>><</timed>> You enter another room, almost identical to the first in layout. Four doors, one pillar. But this room is not empty. A priest is standing almost in the centre of the room, examining the pillar. His head begins to move upwards towards you as the door swings open. For a brief second, you consider fighting. But a tugging at your stained soul pulls your eyes towards a small vial at the priest’s hip. Holy water. Unless you want to take a great risk, you have no choice but to pull the door shut again and attempt to [[hide.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You enter another room, almost identical to the first in layout. Four doors, one pillar. But this room is not empty. A priest is standing almost in the centre of the room, examining the pillar. His head begins to move upwards towards you as the door swings open. For a brief second, you consider fighting. But a tugging at your stained soul pulls your eyes towards a small vial at the priest’s hip. Holy water. Unless you want to take a great risk, you have no choice but to pull the door shut again and attempt to hide. <</if>>

Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 8>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "hide_SUC" time 0>><<audio "hide_SUC" play>>Your door closes without even a click. You wait, your ear pressed to the stone. You hear a thud from the other side as a door closes. You wait a moment longer, then push your own door open. The space on the other side is deserted. [[Examine the room.|Maze 2 examine]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "hide_FAI" time 0>><<audio "hide_FAI" play>>Your door closes. You wait, your ear pressed to the stone. Suddenly you are falling, your support pulled away. You have not even hit the ground when your hide begins to smoke. You are bellowing in pain as your essence is pulled apart, rolling back and forth across the rough floor until the water has done all it can do. The priest is gone, the smashed vial of holy water the only sign of his presence, save for your still smoking skin. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>>[[Examine the room.|Maze 2 examine]]<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 8>>Your door closes without even a click. You wait, your ear pressed to the stone. You hear a thud from the other side as a door closes. You wait a moment longer, then push your own door open. The space on the other side is deserted.<<else>>Your door closes. You wait, your ear pressed to the stone. Suddenly you are falling, your support pulled away. You have not even hit the ground when your hide begins to smoke. You are bellowing in pain as your essence is pulled apart, rolling back and forth across the rough floor until the water has done all it can do. The priest is gone, the smashed vial of holy water the only sign of his presence, save for your still smoking skin.<</if>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_two_examine" time 0>><<audio "maze_two_examine" play>><</timed>> Four doors, one pillar. But unlike the previous room you entered with this layout, the pillar in this one is marked on all of its four sides. On the side which faces you as you enter the room, there are three symbols, a square, a triangle and a circle. Rotating ninety degrees clockwise around the pillar, the symbols read: line and triangle. A further ninety degrees around – showing the opposite side of the pillar from the one you originally saw – there is a single triangle. A further ninety degrees shows only a square. Returning to stand in front of the door you entered through, which door do you take? [[Right|Maze 3]] [[Forward|Wrong 2]] [[Left|Wrong 2]] <<if $HoH is true>> Four doors, one pillar. But unlike the previous room you entered with this layout, the pillar in this one is marked on all of its four sides. On the side which faces you as you enter the room, there are three symbols, a square, a triangle and a circle. Rotating ninety degrees clockwise around the pillar, the symbols read: line and triangle. A further ninety degrees around – showing the opposite side of the pillar from the one you originally saw – there is a single triangle. A further ninety degrees shows only a square. Returning to stand in front of the door you entered through, which door do you take? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_three" time 0>><<audio "maze_three" play>><</timed>> You walk through into the next room and find yourself coming face to face with an emaciated woman. Her hair is dirty, her eyes bloodshot, and her wrists and ankles are ringed with bruises, scars, and scabs, many of which have burst, covering her feet, arms, and hands in layers of blood and rot. In one of her tortured hands she holds a rusty heavy manacle by its chain, a fresh splash of blood on the lip of the cuff implying a wound this woman does not have. She snarls, the sound rising easily from her throat. Her aggressive poise is an animal default. A regression. But she has not yet attacked. [[Tell her you are an avenging angel, then tell her the route to leave this place.]] [[Attack first.]] <<if $HoH is true>> You walk through into the next room and find yourself coming face to face with an emaciated woman. Her hair is dirty, her eyes bloodshot, and her wrists and ankles are ringed with bruises, scars, and scabs, many of which have burst, covering her feet, arms, and hands in layers of blood and rot. In one of her tortured hands she holds a rusty heavy manacle by its chain, a fresh splash of blood on the lip of the cuff implying a wound this woman does not have. She snarls, the sound rising easily from her throat. Her aggressive poise is an animal default. A regression. But she has not yet attacked. <</if>>

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_two" time 0>><<audio "wrong_two" play>><</timed>> <<set $priest = { Name: "The priest", Attack: 7, Guard: 4, Health: 7, Perception: 4, Resistance: 5, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> You enter the room to find the priest<<dispstats $priest>> rummaging desperately through a crate of bottles. He rises when you enter and you both simultaneously glance towards the glass container he has pulled from the rest. It is full of a clear liquid. Visually indistinguishable from any other water. But spiritually you know what he has. And he knows it too. A smile curls his lips and for a brief moment the terror is gone. You have no choice but to fight. How will you begin? [[Careful attack|CA: priest]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: priest]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: priest]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: priest]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: priest]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> [Overpronounced:] You enter the room to find the priest rummaging desperately through a crate of bottles. He rises when you enter and you both simultaneously glance towards the glass container he has pulled from the rest. It is full of a clear liquid. Visually indistinguishable from any other water. But spiritually you know what he has. And he knows it too. A smile curls his lips and for a brief moment the terror is gone. You have no choice but to fight. How will you begin? Is that what you wanted? Were we not good enough for you? [Shouted:] Answer me! Answer me, Duke of Hell, sealed in copper, answer me- [Sounds of strangulation.] <</if>>

<<careful $priest>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $priest.Status is "Dead">>The priest collapses heavily to the ground. Perhaps his faith can help him in the next life, but it can do no more for him in this one. You are left free to [[explore the room.|Wrong 2 examine]]<<else>> The priest<<dispstats $priest>> mutters prayers under his breath, his eyes never leaving you. [[Careful attack|CA: priest]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: priest]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: priest]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: priest]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: priest]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $priest>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $priest.Status is "Dead">>The priest collapses heavily to the ground. Perhaps his faith can help him in the next life, but it can do no more for him in this one. You are left free to [[explore the room.|Wrong 2 examine]]<<else>> The priest<<dispstats $priest>> mutters prayers under his breath, his eyes never leaving you. [[Careful attack|CA: priest]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: priest]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: priest]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: priest]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: priest]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $priest>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The priest’s<<dispstats $priest>> eyes go wide and for a moment you swear his fear has turned to rapture, but he blinks and the rage and hatred have returned. [[Careful attack|CA: priest]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: priest]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: priest]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: priest]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: priest]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $priest>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The priest<<dispstats $priest>> mutters prayers under his breath, his eyes never leaving you. [[Careful attack|CA: priest]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: priest]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: priest]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: priest]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: priest]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $priest>><<set $priest.Health = Math.floor($priest.Health/2)>> The priest<<dispstats $priest>> screams, a sound of animal horror at his spiritual bifurcation. His eyes flash red and he upends a mouthful of holy water onto his own face, which begins to smoke. When he turns back to you he seems more determined than ever to end your existence on this plane. Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: priest]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: priest]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: priest]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: priest]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_two_examine" time 0>><<audio "wrong_two_examine" play>><</timed>> The room is the same shape and size as all the others you have seen in the labyrinth so far. This one, however, has no pillar, and the corners are filled with storage boxes containing various pieces of weaponry and, of course, holy water. Above the door on the far side of the room from where you enter is a carving. A circle and a square. You do not want to wait here too long, not this close to so much holy water. Which way do you go? [[Right|Maze 3]] [[Forward|V Wrong 2]] [[Left|V Wrong 2]] <<if $HoH is true>> [A minute of steady breathing.] <</if>>

Rolling Overpower... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Overpower + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>><<timed 1.5s>><<audio "v_wrong_two" time 0>><<audio "v_wrong_two" play>><</timed>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 10>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>You step into a room and are greeted immediately by a blinding light. It is faith. It is not pure, nor particularly true. It is desperate, pleading, and, most importantly, concentrated. A concoction, a weapon no less potent for its artificiality. You stand in the doorway as it strikes you, pushes against you, pushes into you, pushes you apart. This is a trap built for one such as you. A concentrated blast of something which most in this place would not even recognise as a force. The Fall replays itself within your body. The virtues rip chunks from the sins. And when it is done you feel less than you were before. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>>But you survive. You walk forward to examine the [[altar.|labyrinth altar]]<</if>><</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> [Two minutes of something wet dripping onto a hard surface.] <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "labyrinth_altar" time 0>><<audio "labyrinth_altar" play>><</timed>> You approach the altar, a huge slab of granite held up by four legs of gold, each leg a depiction of a human leg, the first a healthy thing of flesh, the last just bones, the other two depicting stages of increasingly severe decay. This is an old style altar, and while the materials appear new, the countless shallow slashes across the rock’s surface speak of heavy use. You see a piece of paper half hidden beneath one of the rotting feet. You stoop and pick it up, reading: "Circle is second in precedence. It usurps two others and is usurped by one. When it is ascendant, it guides to the right." With this piece of knowledge in hand, you make for a [[door|Maze 3]] you have noticed, hidden behind the altar. <<if $HoH is true>> You approach the altar, really a wooden table, its laminate top chipped at the edges to show the MDF below. It’s cheap, second-hand, a thing left over when some school or care home or church closed down. If you approach and look closely, you will see smudged chalk, a circle with a star, smudges which only at the edges along the long side are recognisable as words. Latin. But I am burying the lead. Because the chalk isn’t what you would notice. You’d notice the blood. It’s washed away most of the chalk and now it drips down one side of the table, the wonky legs allowing the creation of a channel. On the table it looks like so much, one wide and deep river, smaller tributaries snaking in and out of the stream. The signs of disasters and mistakes, sprays of droplets pointing in at least four different directions, red knife slashes across the cheap wood, or the splatter of blood arcing from a bullet wound. And the central lake, the nearly still puddle, only red around the edges where it reflects the light from the bare flickering bulb hanging above all of it. Or maybe you’d see the body first. It’s the thing I see last when I remember, despite it coming after the chalk but before the blood. Dorothy, I think. I am not sure. It was difficult to read the child’s letters, inexpertly daubed above the entrance to the hutch. Dorothy lies still now. She lies still because I say she lies still. Because I don’t want to see her twitching, kicking. I don’t think of rabbits as strong. People call them fluff balls. But they kick and they squirm. They’ve got that jump instinct. And if I’m going to be honest, I didn’t know that rabbits screamed. In films you stab someone and they die. Really it’s not that easy to kill something. Something which doesn’t want to die. I held it down while Sophie cut. Tried to cut. If my fingers hadn’t been in the way, maybe it would have been faster. It died so slowly. Like time in a nightmare. It just kept going and going and going and I couldn’t run I couldn’t move. And I just had to hold it. I could feel it breaking under my fingers. I could feel it moving and I could feel how that movement was wrong. How I had just snapped out of position the bone it was trying to move. How its movements changed as I broke it. [Pause.] "Circle is second in precedence. It usurps two others and is usurped by one. When it is ascendant, it guides to the right." With this piece of knowledge in hand, you make for a door you have noticed, hidden behind the altar. <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 8>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "tell_her_you_SUC" time 0>><<audio "tell_her_you_SUC" play>>The woman does not straighten from her combat-ready pose until you are finished. She shuffles around you, towards the door you emerged from, and you gently cede the space. Only when she has one hand on the doorknob does she finally straighten. With tears in her eyes she blesses you in the name of the Lord. It stings, crawling under your flesh, but you would not be what you are if you could not survive a little theological misappropriation. Then she is gone, and you are able to [[freely examine the room.|Maze 3 examine]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <><<set $prisoner = { Name: "The prisoner", Attack: 3, Guard: 6, Health: 6, Perception: 3, Resistance: 6, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> <<timed 1.5s>><<audio "tell_her_you_FAI" time 0>><<audio "tell_her_you_FAI" play>>You begin to speak, explaining what you are, that you are here to deliver her from the injustices which have befallen this poor naked wretch. You move on to explaining the path she would have to take to leave this labyrinth when she suddenly charges you. Perhaps this abused creature is simply beyond the reach of words. [[Fight the woman.|Prisoner fight]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if $r > 8>>The woman does not straighten from her combat-ready pose until you are finished. She shuffles around you, towards the door you emerged from, and you gently cede the space. Only when she has one hand on the doorknob does she finally straighten. With tears in her eyes she blesses you in the name of the Lord. It stings, crawling under your flesh, but you would not be what you are if you could not survive a little theological misappropriation. Then she is gone, and you are able to freely examine the room.<<else>>You begin to speak, explaining what you are, that you are here to deliver her from the injustices which have befallen this poor naked wretch. You move on to explaining the path she would have to take to leave this labyrinth when she suddenly charges you. Perhaps this abused creature is simply beyond the reach of words.<</if>> <</if>>

<> <<set $prisoner = { Name: "The prisoner", Attack: 3, Guard: 6, Health: 6, Perception: 3, Resistance: 6, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <<set $PA = random(1, 10) + $Overpower>> <<if $PA < 4>><<set $PD = 1>><<else>><<set $PD = Math.floor($PA/3)>><</if>> <<set $prisoner.Health = $prisoner.Health - $PD>> <><<if $prisoner.Health < 1>><<set $prisoner.Status = "Dead">> You pounce forward and knock the woman’s head from her body. It cracks wetly against the far wall, while the rest of her collapses nearly soundlessly, the heavy manacle clanging against the stone floor. You are free to [[examine the room.|Maze 3 examine]]<<else>>You pounce forward and strike the woman. She yowls in pain, but does not fall. The prisoner has lost $PD health. You both take a step back, ready to [[fight.|Prisoner fight]]<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_three_examine" time 0>><<audio "maze_three_examine" play>><</timed>> With the woman gone, there is nothing, save the doors, to distinguish this room from a box. A coffin of stone. Three symbols are etched above the door opposite the one you entered through. A line, a triangle, and a square. Which door will you leave through? [[Right|Wrong 3]] [[Forward|Maze 4]] [[Left|Wrong 3]] <<if $HoH is true>> With the woman gone, there is nothing, save the doors, to distinguish this room from a box. A coffin of stone. Three symbols are etched above the door opposite the one you entered through. A line, a triangle, and a square. Which door will you leave through? <</if>>

The woman<<dispstats $prisoner>> lets out a guttural roar. It is clear: this will end in death. [[Careful attack|CA: prisoner]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: prisoner]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: prisoner]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: prisoner]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: prisoner]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<careful $prisoner>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $prisoner.Status is "Dead">>You pounce forward and knock the woman’s head from her body. It cracks wetly against the far wall, while the rest of her collapses nearly soundlessly, the heavy manacle clanging against the stone floor. You are free to [[examine the room.|Maze 3 examine]]<<else>> The woman<<dispstats $prisoner>> inexpertly twirls the manacle, blood spraying out in an unnoticed arc. [[Careful attack|CA: prisoner]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: prisoner]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: prisoner]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: prisoner]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: prisoner]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $prisoner>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $prisoner.Status is "Dead">>You pounce forward and knock the woman’s head from her body. It cracks wetly against the far wall, while the rest of her collapses nearly soundlessly, the heavy manacle clanging against the stone floor. You are free to [[examine the room.|Maze 3 examine]]<<else>> The woman<<dispstats $prisoner>> inexpertly twirls the manacle, blood spraying out in an unnoticed arc. [[Careful attack|CA: prisoner]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: prisoner]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: prisoner]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: prisoner]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: prisoner]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $prisoner>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The woman<<dispstats $prisoner>> lets out a long wail and asks ‘why’? You do not believe she is really asking you. [[Careful attack|CA: prisoner]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: prisoner]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: prisoner]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: prisoner]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: prisoner]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $prisoner>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The woman<<dispstats $prisoner>> inexpertly twirls the manacle, blood spraying out in an unnoticed arc.. [[Careful attack|CA: prisoner]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: prisoner]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: prisoner]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: prisoner]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: prisoner]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $prisoner>> The woman’s<<dispstats $prisoner>> eyes go wide as her hand flies to her chest. She looks back up at you, grinning. You see yourself in that smile. It is as much a ‘thank you’ as it is a challenge. Survival has been swapped for … something. Wrath, madness, the simple joy of destruction. She will not yield an inch of ground. Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: prisoner]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: prisoner]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: prisoner]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: prisoner]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_three" time 0>><<audio "wrong_three" play>><</timed>> <img src="Pictures/Maze.png"/> <<timed 245s>><<remove "#maze">><</timed>> [[Right|V Wrong 3]] [[Forward|V Wrong 3]] [[Left|Maze 4]] <<if $HoH is true>> I remember lying in my bed. I was supposed to be in bed, it was night. I remember it being especially dark. But I think I’m misremembering, I think I just had my eyes closed. I had been doing well. Been meeting new people. It was what I thought I wanted. After the years of the pandemic. I was so hungry. There’s a better way of putting this, I’m sure, but I’m just thinking of, ugh, those crisps that come in tubes. Once you commence you are unable to cease. And then you’re hungrier at the end than you were at the start. That was a mess. It hurt. It was physical. Tight in the chest, twisted in the stomach. An ache. A push without a direction. It felt like hope. Like a parasite unsure if it should push you to go and go and go until you’re worn to nothing, or if it should just give up and burst through your stomach. So you just sit there, hot and cold. Fizzing but never going flat. Needing is one thing. But getting, getting’s another. Stuck on the wrong side of the aquarium glass. It’s an on-the-edge of something feeling. When you’re at the top of the hill, waiting to fall, needing beyond anything for the grass to be actually greener. I’m not explaining it well enough. I needed to be something. Because what I was wasn’t enough. Not for them. Not for me. I was lying in bed. In the dark. And I felt that edge. I was thinking about the other side. About the warp. The veil. The void. That other place. I was thinking about how comfortable I was. Safe, in my bed. On the wrong side of the hill. The side where I would never be anything. Things had been ‘good’ and I didn’t want to die. I’d been trying positivity. But I lay there and I thought about the dark. About pain and madness and all the things we push out. The things we banish to that other realm I think a lot of us feel instinctively is there. Heaven doesn’t feel real. It’s got no substance. But while I lay there in my bed, I felt hell. I felt the truth of it. It was roiling above me, colourful and infinitely dark. An upside down ocean of suffering and confusion and loss. Of truth and depth and meaning. It was physical. It was something I could touch. I could reach out. About two feet above my face. And I felt fear. I didn’t think I’d feel fear. Because this is what I needed. The something more. That would make me shine. But I hesitated. My hand went up just above the level of my leg. I could feel it tingling. I could feel my throat go dry. Was it worth it? Everything which would happen to me when I let my skin cross that threshold into the other place? Into that dark mirror we have been telling tales of since tales began? The other place, the world of spirits and demons and fairies? Yes. I wasn’t sure, but yes. So, slowly, I raised my hand towards the barrier I could feel but not see. And nothing happened. I stretched out, arched my back. And felt nothing. And then I went to sleep. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_four" time 0>><<audio "maze_four" play>><</timed>> The inside of a grey stone cube. Four doors and a carving above the far door. A triangle and a square. Which way? [[Right|V Wrong 3]] [[Forward|V Wrong 3]] [[Left|Maze 5]] <<if $HoH is true>> The inside of a grey stone cube. Four doors and a carving above the far door. A triangle and a square. Which way? <</if>>

Rolling Overpower... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Overpower + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>><<if visited() is 1>><<timed 1.5s>><<audio "v_wrong_three_1" time 0>><<audio "v_wrong_three_1" play>><</timed>><<else>><<timed 1.5s>><<audio "v_wrong_three_2" time 0>><<audio "v_wrong_three_2" play>><</timed>><</if>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 9>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>You open the door and step into complete darkness. You shuffle forward, one step, two steps, three… You twist your back leg, throw your arms back, strain every fibre within your body to push back against the nothing which gravity is pulling you towards, your leading leg dangling over blackness. For a long moment you hang, a frozen image of forces in balance. One the easy inevitability of gravity, the other the screaming of overstrained muscles. It is no miracle that it is the latter which wins. Merely a testament to the superiority of your infernal creators. It is only after you have pulled back that your other senses tell you what you avoided. The smell of rot, of flesh turning to gas and liquid, of the ecosystem of death – the waste of the bacteria which feed first, then the maggots and the beetles, then the rats – does nothing to you but remind you of home. You would not have fallen far into the dark pit. It is a crude disposal method: by the smell you know there is no gutter, no system to ever clear anything which is dropped into this place. It is growing up and out of its bounds: soon whoever made this pit will have to find some new place to dispose of their waste. Their discarded pieces of unwanted human. You turn to leave, but as you feel along the wall for a door your almost acclimatised eyes spot a shred of cloth with dark scrawls on it. You pick it up and read the cramped writing: ? > ? > Triangle - left > Square – back You make a note of some dead man’s final scrawl, then take a side door off the dark corridor and [[continue.|Maze 4]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>You open the door and step into complete darkness. You shuffle forward, one step, two steps, three… You twist your back leg, throw your arms back, strain every fibre within your body to push back against the nothing which gravity is pulling you towards, your leading leg dangling over blackness. For a long moment you hang, a frozen image of forces in balance. One the easy inevitability of gravity, the other the screaming of overstrained muscles. Then something releases. Even for a being such as you, falling in pitch blackness is an unsettling experience. Your back foot has barely left ground when your upper body comes to a stop. The surface you land on is textured: soft, wet, bumpy, hard, yielding and sliding beneath you as you push yourself up. The top layer shifts, but as your limbs disappear between looser fibres, they sink into increasingly resistant layers beneath until enough has shifted that you can stand upright. By then you know well what you have found yourself in. The smell of rot, of flesh turning to gas and liquid, of the ecosystem of death – the waste of the bacteria which feed first, then the maggots and the beetles, then the rats – does nothing to you but remind you of home. Judging by the wetness and layers of the scent, there is no gutter, no system to ever clear anything which is dropped into this place. It is growing up and out of its bounds: soon whoever made this pit will have to find some new place to dispose of their waste. Their discarded pieces of unwanted human. You pull yourself out and attempt to shake some of it off, but the stench is stuck to you. What was peeled off when you left the inferno has returned, just as potent here as it is in your master’s domain. <<set $Beguile = $Beguile - 1>>Your Beguile is now $Beguile<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> You make to leave, but as you feel along the wall for a door your almost acclimatised eyes spot a shred of cloth with dark scrawls on it. You pick it up with a gore-encrusted talon and read the cramped writing: ? > ? > Triangle - left > Square – back You make a note of some dead man’s final scrawl, then take a side door off the dark corridor and [[continue.|Maze 4]]<</timed>><</timed>><</if>> <</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>We all have our reasons. I’ve talked about mine elsewhere. Mine were different from Amy’s. Also, of course, she did it and I didn’t. And I never met her. I only heard Sophie’s stories. And Sophie didn’t really understand. I’m not being rude, she said she didn’t understand. She said once that maybe that’s why she felt close to me, because I could understand that part of Amy which she couldn’t. But I’m not sure I really do. I’ve got this image of Amy hearing this and telling me off, telling me I’m all wrong. That I’m ignorant and stupid because what could I know about actually doing it, I’m just a pretender, a poser. It doesn’t matter how close you’ve come, if you can talk about it, you don’t really know. Well, I don’t know. Maybe if they found me half bled out in the bath, maybe then. But am I sensible saying that I won’t do it until I know I can do it right, or am I just a coward who doesn’t really understand? I feel like Amy would come along and out me. I’ve got imposter syndrome for wanting to kill myself. I worry I’m a suicide poser. Because I only got half-way through writing the note. Amy’s not here. She’s not going to say those things. And she can’t hear me when I judge her. Because what I never told Sophie was that I really didn’t understand Amy at all. Amy locked herself in her parent’s garage and ran a hose pipe in through the window of the family car from the exhaust. It’s supposed to be quite peaceful, but if someone stops you at the wrong time then you could be left disabled for life. Brain and muscle impairments. And it can take awhile, so that’s plenty of time for someone to stop you. And if they do find you, or when they do find you, there can be enough gas in the air to kill them as well. It’s risky. It’s not what I would choose. Not that I’d tell you what I would choose. I’ve never told anyone. I can’t have that taken away from me. Amy chose carbon monoxide poisoning because it leaves the body intact. The outside anyway. I don’t get that. Sophie said that Amy’s note said that she did it because she finally realised she’d never be beautiful. So why leave the body intact? Of course she was beautiful. Sophie’s phone background was a picture of her sister in her coffin. I know I’m not supposed to do this, but I can’t help but feel a bit … judgemental. There are so many good reasons, like consumption of the earth’s resources, unavoidable participation in systems of exploitation … [hesitation noises] the space you take up, physically and societally, just, letting someone else, something else have that. But to be caught in that … beauty standard web. I don’t know. It feels like a trap. Like doing it because of an illusion. Like it’s just … like it’s a bad reason. But I don’t know. It’s not my experience. But I do know that when I go, I don’t care what happens to my body. Burial takes up land, cremation wastes energy. Just chuck it in a pit, I don’t care. But I keep thinking about Amy. Lying beautiful in her coffin. I wonder what she looks like now. And I wonder why I feel like it matters. Why does it feel like a shame?<<else>>[Sigh] I can’t give you more than you’ve already got. I wasn’t even going to give you what I have given you: the altar and the bit of sock or whatever. I’ve made it too simple already. You need to learn. [Pause] You need to learn. When I say it’s fine, when I say just leave it, you need to leave it. You’re not helping. [Shout sobbing:] You weren’t helping why! Why! Mum! I said … I said. Just go. I didn’t mean to say go.<</if>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_five" time 0>><<audio "maze_five" play>><</timed>> There is something different about this room. There is something softer. Perhaps it is the lighting. Perhaps it is simply that there is something organic here, a break from the endless stone. Instead of a pillar, the centre of this room is taken up by a simple but sturdy wooden lectern. Atop it rests a large leather bound book, itself encased in a clear glass case. Its open page is illuminated with pictures of angels, saints, and princes, high castles and the spotless rolling green hills of their domain. The visible text is not long: "Let your feet not stray from the path. Intend always to the good. Note where the good can be found: Everywhere within reach of the blade of the chosen. Surrender not. Quarter shall not be given. United the faithful must stand. All must be made good. Raze to the ground all that which is not touched by the light of the Lord. Everything which is made by the hands of the righteous is good, all else is rotten." You step <<if visited() is 1>>[[back|Secret 5]]<<else>>back<</if>> from the book. Which way will you go? [[Right|Wrong 5]] [[Forward|Maze 6]] [[Left|Wrong 5]] <<if $HoH is true>> There is something different about this room. There is something softer. Perhaps it is the lighting. Perhaps it is simply that there is something organic here, a break from the endless stone. Instead of a pillar, the centre of this room is taken up by a simple but sturdy wooden lectern. Atop it rests a large leather bound book, itself encased in a clear glass case. Its open page is illuminated with pictures of angels, saints, and princes, high castles and the spotless rolling green hills of their domain. The visible text is not long: "Let your feet not stray from the path. Intend always to the good. Note where the good can be found: Everywhere within reach of the blade of the chosen. Surrender not. Quarter shall not be given. United the faithful must stand. All must be made good. Raze to the ground all that which is not touched by the light of the Lord. Everything which is made by the hands of the righteous is good, all else is rotten." You step back from the book. Which way will you go? <</if>>

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "secret_five" time 0>><<audio "secret_five" play>><</timed>> <<set $escapespirit = { Name: "The spirit of escape", Attack: 7, Guard: 7, Health: 999, Perception: 10, Resistance: 2, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>><> You step through the door you just came through to find yourself somewhere different. There is no stone in this place, no runes and no doors. There is no forward, or right, or left. Neither is there up or down. There is no ‘thing’ at all. Yet it is a place. A bubble pushed through the skin of existence, like a boil flowering from a blighted pore. It is a place made of pure will, the will to escape taking form and desperately trying to break free, a will so unable to imagine an end to its suffering at the hands of men that it has instead found it easier to push at the very rules of reality and matter themselves. But the laws are not so easily broken and here you are, a thing enough of matter that you bring definition to this place. It<<dispstats $escapespirit>> rushes you, folding towards you, a thing built to run snapping back against something treading on its tail as it attempts to bolt. You have no choice but to fight. [[Careful attack|CA: escapespirit]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: escapespirit]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: escapespirit]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: escapespirit]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: escapespirit]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> You step through the door you just came through to find yourself somewhere different. There is no stone in this place, no runes and no doors. There is no forward, or right, or left. Neither is there up or down. There is no ‘thing’ at all. Yet it is a place. A bubble pushed through the skin of existence, like a boil flowering from a blighted pore. It is a place made of pure will, the will to escape taking form and desperately trying to break free, a will so unable to imagine an end to its suffering at the hands of men that it has instead found it easier to push at the very rules of reality and matter themselves. But the laws are not so easily broken and here you are, a thing enough of matter that you bring definition to this place. It rushes you, folding towards you, a thing built to run snapping back against something treading on its tail as it attempts to bolt. You have no choice but to fight. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_5" time 0>><<audio "wrong_5" play>><</timed>> The smell is that of old sweat, festering sores, and soiled clothing. Human liquids left to dry by body heat. There is a single incense burner on one side of the altar, but its covering of dust shows how long it has been since anyone tried to combat the rest of the stink. The pews are old and worn and dirty with the same filth which encrusts those sitting upon them. The ceiling is high enough for the thick ropes of smoke that spew from the spitting tallow candles to sit like a storm cloud above the congregation. The singing is uniform, low, but passionate. The people sit so still as they sing that the clinking of chains rarely interrupts the hymns. A priest stands in his pulpit, a cleric with a bludgeon in one hand a whip in the other, a holy book hanging from a heavy iron chain around his neck. He taps the bludgeon against the wood of his podium in time with the music, his mouth set in a threatening line as he scans the faces of the congregation, watching their cracked lips form the prayers pushed out by dry throats. You stand at the back of the factory and see the three exit doors all behind the pulpit. How will you progress? [[Attempt to sneak past the cleric.]] [[Stride forward and demand that he let you past.]] <<if $HoH is true>> January 13th, 2026, 21:23, M to S: Hey, it was really nice meeting you smiley face. 21:25, S to M: yeah, it was. I like you 21:27, M to S: Oh, that’s nice. 21:27, S to M: I can see you typing Milo. I didn’t mean it like that 21:28, M to S: Oh, good to know. Well, I like you too. Like that. 21:28, M to S: Or, not like that. 21:28, M to S: I mean I like you how you like me. 21:28, M to S: I think. 21:30, S to M: you’re funnier in person 21:31, M to S: You think I’m funny? 21:32, S to M: I said funnier, not funny. 21: 34, M to S: That’s fair. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_six" time 0>><<audio "maze_six" play>><</timed>> The hall beyond is vast. By your senses you can tell that it is longer than it is wide, but it is so huge in both directions - as well as taller than the tallest building you have seen in your short time on this plane - that you would not be surprised if human senses would not be able to easily make that distinction. The sound of metal on metal echoes around the mostly empty space. Beings work at forges, at lines of anvils, at long tables. They bend over their work, moving slowly but in unison. As you watch, and without any obvious signal, they switch from crafting simple iron forks to mass-producing plain, workmanlike steel swords. Others shuffle over and finish the process of packing the forks into their crates, arriving with fresh, empty crates just as the first few swords are placed ready, still glowing from the furnace. The air in here, underground and sustaining a rank of wide, hungry furnaces, is toxic. There is the numb smell of dead flesh in winter snow. The heat is enough to slow roast meat. But despite all of that, you feel deeply, deeply uneasy. You feel such a twisting inside you that it feels that you must have a soul, for if not then what part of you could be so offended by what you are seeing. Because the figures which toil at the furnace and the anvils and the tables are not men, or women, or even children. They are puppets, golems of flesh, matter made animate. They are corpses. They are the dead. Snatched from their rightful places in heaven and hell and purgatory and trapped here, in a limbo of humankind’s creation. There is a corridor, far away through the haze. You must reach it. But to do so you must pass these abominations. Will you attack now, before they see you, or will you walk across the factory floor and attempt to stay your hand? [[Fight.|Maze 6 fight]] [[Walk.|Maze 6 walk]] <<if $HoH is true>> The hall beyond is vast. By your senses you can tell that it is longer than it is wide, but it is so huge in both directions - as well as taller than the tallest building you have seen in your short time on this plane - that you would not be surprised if human senses would not be able to easily make that distinction. The sound of metal on metal echoes around the mostly empty space. Beings work at forges, at lines of anvils, at long tables. They bend over their work, moving slowly but in unison. As you watch, and without any obvious signal, they switch from crafting simple iron forks to mass-producing plain, workmanlike steel swords. Others shuffle over and finish the process of packing the forks into their crates, arriving with fresh, empty crates just as the first few swords are placed ready, still glowing from the furnace. The air in here, underground and sustaining a rank of wide, hungry furnaces, is toxic. There is the numb smell of dead flesh in winter snow. The heat is enough to slow roast meat. But despite all of that, you feel deeply, deeply uneasy. You feel such a twisting inside you that it feels that you must have a soul, for if not then what part of you could be so offended by what you are seeing. Because the figures which toil at the furnace and the anvils and the tables are not men, or women, or even children. They are puppets, golems of flesh, matter made animate. They are corpses. They are the dead. Snatched from their rightful places in heaven and hell and purgatory and trapped here, in a limbo of humankind’s creation. There is a corridor, far away through the haze. You must reach it. But to do so you must pass these abominations. Will you attack now, before they see you, or will you walk across the factory floor and attempt to stay your hand? <</if>>

<<careful $escapespirit>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $escapespirit.Status is "Dead">>I think we can all agree that this shouldn’t be possible. [[credits]]<<elseif $escapespirit.Health < 999>><<set $Feather to true>>The spirit pulses with fear. It twists, reaching into itself, into the heart of this place, the place that this is, and returns, holding up a feather. A wind which is not there pulls at its barbs, it twirls as it eternally falls downwards, it sits up proud in the spirit's hand, unmoving, perfectly frozenly still. It is lost in shadow, it glows with the bright light of Heaven. It smells of sulphur and blood, of ozone and flowers. It is filled with sin, it is utterly pure. It is a contradictory accord, a fraction of the strand that still remains, will always remain, between the fallen and those who remained. A symbol of the laws they share in common. You take the feather and the spirit spits you out, back into the world of [[cold stone.|Maze 5]]<<else>><<set $escapespirit.Attack to $escapespirit.Attack – 1>><<set $escapespirit.Guard to $escapespirit.Guard – 1>> The spirit<<dispstats $escapespirit>> twirls and shivers, guilt mixing with fear and self loathing. It does not want to be here. It does not want to be anywhere. [[Careful attack|CA: escapespirit]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: escapespirit]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: escapespirit]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: escapespirit]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: escapespirit]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $escapespirit>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $escapespirit.Status is "Dead">>I think we can all agree that this shouldn’t be possible. [[credits]]<<elseif $escapespirit.Health < 999>><<set $Feather to true>>The spirit pulses with fear. It twists, reaching into itself, into the heart of this place, the place that this is, and returns, holding up a feather. A wind which is not there pulls at its barbs, it twirls as it eternally falls downwards, it sits up proud in the spirit's hand, unmoving, perfectly frozenly still. It is lost in shadow, it glows with the bright light of Heaven. It smells of sulphur and blood, of ozone and flowers. It is filled with sin and utterly pure. It is a contradictory accord, a fraction of the strand that still remains, will always remain, between the fallen and those who remained. A symbol of the laws they share in common. You take the feather, and the spirit spits you out, back into the world of [[cold stone.|Maze 5]]<<else>><<set $escapespirit.Attack to $escapespirit.Attack – 1>><<set $escapespirit.Guard to $escapespirit.Guard – 1>> The spirit<<dispstats $escapespirit>> twirls and shivers, guilt mixing with fear and self loathing. It does not want to be here. It does not want to be anywhere. [[Careful attack|CA: escapespirit]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: escapespirit]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: escapespirit]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: escapespirit]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: escapespirit]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $escapespirit>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The spirit<<dispstats $escapespirit>> moves towards you, the entire space around you leaning in, threatening to collapse in on itself. But then its nature reasserts and it pulls away again. [[Careful attack|CA: escapespirit]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: escapespirit]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: escapespirit]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: escapespirit]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: escapespirit]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $escapespirit>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The spirit<<dispstats $escapespirit>> watches you out of the corner of its eye, afraid of what would happen if you were to sense its full attention on you. [[Careful attack|CA: escapespirit]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: escapespirit]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: escapespirit]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: escapespirit]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: escapespirit]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<if visited() is 1>>You begin to invoke the ritual, but the being which is nothing but a coagulated glut of the animal urge to escape pulls away, changes the laws of the space you are in and you realise, just in time, that were you to complete the rite then part of you would become this need to flee. You would take on the essence of scatter, of bolt, you would take disperse into yourself and you would be less, not more, for it. So you stop, having taken just a lick of power, but not taking its essence. The contract remains intact. <<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 2>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: escapespirit]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: escapespirit]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: escapespirit]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: escapespirit]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<else>><<set $MR to false>><<set $Manifest = Math.floor($Manifest/2)>>You continue the ritual you had abandoned earlier. You pull at the essence of the spirit and it seeps into you as you seep into it. It gains a note of reality and like a bubble bursting it ceases to be what it was and you are flung out and back into the space you were in before. And as you are, a part of you becomes its need to be gone and that part is, then, simply gone. Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> You look down and see something lying on the floor beside you. A feather. A wind which is not there pulls at its barbs, it twirls as it eternally falls downwards, it sits up proud on the stone floor, unmoving, perfectly frozenly still. It is lost in shadow, it glows with the bright light of Heaven. It smells of sulphur and blood, of ozone and flowers. It is filled with sin, it is utterly pure. It is a contradictory accord, a fraction of the strand that still remains, will always remain, between the fallen and those who remained. A symbol of the laws they share in common. You take it and [[look around the room.|Maze 5]]<</if>>

Written, performed, and coded by Milo van Mesdag Blood Leaves (Bloody-Handed Saint) by [[Angus Barker.|https://www.instagram.com/anguspbarker.illustration/]] All other art by Ayssa Jalali. Testing by: Ro van Mesdag, Mike Russo, Ayssa Jalali, Jason Ebblewhite, Brett Witty, Outboard, Savanna van Mesdag, and David Small. Maze generated from [[https://www.dcode.fr/maze-generator]] Skull ASCII art from [[https://ascii.co.uk/]] A huge thank you to the Interactive Fiction community, specifically those who have spent years answering Sugarcube questions on the IF Forum and the old Twine Forum. Especial thanks to Manonamora, whose [[guide|https://manonamora.itch.io/twine-sugarcube-guide]] was the only thing making any of the technical side of this process make any sense. And an even huger thank you to all the people who helped me survive to become the kind of person who can write this. I love you. <<return>>

Rolling Obscure... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Obscure + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>><<timed 1.5s>><<audio "attempt_to_sneak" time 0>><<audio "attempt_to_sneak" play>><</timed>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 14>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>Moving past one man would not be too hard. Moving past the prisoners would not present too much of a challenge either. Some turn to look at you as you pass by, but most have been here long enough to have learnt that sleep offers plenty of time for nightmares, so there is no need to seek them out. Those who do look see a shadow, a twisted, inhuman thing moving through the smoke. They see kin. And there is no need to see more of that. The cleric watches the prisoners and he notices when they notice. So you must not just watch which prisoners can see you, but whether those prisoners are currently under the eye of their watcher. Once you are almost caught. A boy, no more than nine, sees something more of you than you had wished. His jaw goes slack as the black of his eyes go wide trying to confirm the impossible he thought he glanced in the shadows. But the girl sitting next to him notices his inattention before the cleric does, and with a minute tug of the chain the boy is reminded of his real fear and he is facing the front again. You make it to the front, dash from one cloud of tallow smoke to the other, and you are safe. You examine the altar as you pass and see three symbols: circle, triangle, square. There are three doors. Which do you take? [[Right|Maze 6]] [[Forward|Wrong 6]] [[Left|Wrong 6]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <><<set $cleric = { Name: "Cleric", Attack: 9, Guard: 9, Health: 10, Perception: 2, Resistance: 2, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> <<timed 1.5s>>Moving past one man would not be too hard. Moving past the prisoners would not present too much of a challenge either. Some turn to look at you as you pass by, but most have been here long enough to have learnt that sleep offers plenty of time for nightmares, so there is no need to seek them out. Those who do look see a shadow, a twisted, inhuman thing moving through the smoke. They see kin. And there is no need to see more of that. The cleric watches the prisoners and he notices when they notice. So you must not just watch which prisoners can see you, but whether those prisoners are currently under the eye of their watcher. A boy, no more than nine, sees something more of you than you had wished. His jaw goes slack as the black of his eyes go wide trying to confirm the impossible he thought he glanced in the shadows. A crack rings out and the boy screams in pain and, in his innocence, shock. "Demon!" he shouts, and after another crack of the whip, points not up at his attacker, but at the pool of darkness you are hiding in. The cleric does not wait for further confirmation. He leaps over the pulpit with a speed and agility you had not expected. The darkness gives you just a moment to prepare before he is on you. [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: cleric]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>> <</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> April 14th 2026, 15:32, S to M: I did it 16:07, M to S: Really? Are you okay? 16:18, M to S: Sophie are you okay? 16:21, S to M: yeah, fine. got the board 16:21, M to S: You still got it? You haven’t used it yet? 16:24, S to M: I’m not going to use it in the middle of the day. gotta do this right 16:24, M to S: I thought you said you’d do it there? 16:25, S to M: I said I’d do it when I could. now I’ve got it, that’s whenever 17:01, M to S: Sorry, Alex saw me on the phone. So what’s the plan? And you are going to give it back to the museum when you’re done, right? 17:01, S to M: well I’m not going to hand it back in person. don’t want to get arrested. I’ll send it back, when we’re done. figure out how to clean dna off a ouija board 17:04, M to S: ‘We’? 17:04, S to M: yeah. bringing it back down with me 17:05, M to S: You’re not going to do it yourself? 17:08, S to M: it’s best with more people. you’re more people 17:16, M to S: Wouldn’t it be best if it’s just you? Wouldn’t that be what Amy would want? I didn’t even know her. 17:16, M to S: Not that I know what I’m talking about. 17:16, S to M: don’t tell me what my sister would have wanted 17:16, M to S: But I never even met her. 17:16, M to S: Sorry. 17:17, M to S: I didn’t mean anything by it. 17:17, M to S: I don’t know. 17:19, S to M: it’s fine 17:20, S to M: if she’s watching me, she knows you already 17:20, S to M: and if she isn’t watching me, well, she better be 17:22, M to S: I’m sure she is. 17:25, S to M: I’ll tell her off if she isn’t. if this board works 17:27, M to S: It has to. <</if>>

Rolling Beguile... <><<set $n to random(1, 10)>> <<set $r to $Beguile + $n>><> <<timed 1.5s>><<timed 1.5s>><<audio "stride_forward_and" time 0>><<audio "stride_forward_and" play>><</timed>>You have rolled $r. <<if $r > 14>><<set $outcome to "Succeeded">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>>Sometimes you do not conjure a glamour. Sometimes you rely on your interlocutor's imagination to fill the void you leave for them. You do not know what this man sees as he looks through the smoke at you with his piggy little eyes. Perhaps, you wonder as his face cracks in an animal-snarl grin, he sees you exactly as you are. You march straight past him, him watching you go. Only when you have disappeared into the darkness behind you does he say something, but it is just a command to his charges to continue their singing. The crack of his whip and a soft sob of pain punctuate his point. You look at the altar and see three symbols: circle, triangle, square. There are three doors. Which do you take? [[Right|Maze 6]] [[Forward|Wrong 6]] [[Left|Wrong 6]]<</timed>><</timed>><<else>><<set $outcome to "Failed">><<timed 1.5s>>You have $outcome. <<timed 1.5s>><><<set $cleric = { Name: "Cleric", Attack: 9, Guard: 9, Health: 10, Perception: 2, Resistance: 2, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> If this is a church, and this man some kind of cleric, then surely the obvious move would be to take on the appearance of the ultimate authority? You step forward, light spilling from your incandescent wings, your skin utterly without flaw, your eyes clear and burning with the light of justice. The man takes one look at you and laughs. "What kind of bullshit is this?" he croaks. "This ain’t no place for angels." He leaps over the podium with a speed and agility you had not expected. But still, by the time he has pushed his way past the rows of prisoners, you are ready for him. [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: cleric]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><</timed>><</timed>> <</if>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> Script: February 20th 2026, 16:33, S to M: are you still good for tomorrow? 17:02, M to S: Yes, I’m all set. Already checked out the buses and everything. 17:03, M to S: I mentioned that funfairs aren’t really my thing, right? 17:04, S to M: only six other times 17:04, S to M: you think they’re mine? 17:06, M to S: Then why are we going again? 17:12, S to M: you know why 17:12, M to S: If your tarot wasn’t good enough, why do you think this woman’s crystal ball will be any better? 17:32, S to M: gotta try 17:32, M to S: Yeah, of course. Sorry. 17:35, S to M: and candy floss isn’t bad 17:36, M to S: Tell that to my dentist. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_six" time 0>><<audio "wrong_six" play>><</timed>> You creep into a dark room, low ceiling, smooth stone floor broken up by a network of gutters. The conflict between the smells of antiseptic and rot tickles the inside of the ‘organ’ you use for smelling. Acrid, cloying smells fighting in the neutral ground between the corners into whose depths they had seeped. Three metal tables stand in the centre of the room, pipes running from sinkholes bored in just over half way down the centre of each one. Cabinets line the walls, their contents hidden behind thick wooden doors adorned with little brass plates. You are about to step out of the shadows you naturally sank into when you entered the room when a side door bursts open and four people bustle in. Two men, tired and emaciated, carry a woman between them. Her eyelids are open but they show only whites. Froth clings to the corners of her mouth and her whole body convulses at irregular intervals, her fingers and toes curling fractions of angles away from the point of breaking. The final man wears burgundy robes which hide their stains well. While the other two men rush the woman to one of the tables and begin hurriedly stripping her of her ragged clothes, this last man strides to one of the cabinets and pulls out a heavy-looking box which he lugs to one of the other tables. He begins to sort through it, taking out and measuring patches of heavy leather while the other two men strap the naked women’s limbs down with more strips of leather. Once she is secure one of these men wraps two fingers around her wrist. "She is fading," he says to the man in the robes, who nods and pulls a set of loops of leather out of the box. He expertly positions this around the woman’s groin, pulling a string tight, until the skin of her abdomen and upper legs is pulled white taught. Then there is a pause while the man at her wrists listens through his fingers. "There," he says after a minute, "the fight is leaving her." The man in the robes nods and gruffly motions for the other two men to take up new positions as he turns and draws a contraption of metal and leather from the box. It is only when he places it across the woman’s face, pulling and pushing here and there to adjust the thick pads of leather across her mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, that you recognise it as a kind of mask. The robed man does not turn to the other two as he says "now" and pulls on some kind of master string. The woman’s movements complete the transformation which started when the first straps were pulled tight, the change from the almost alien spasms of seizure to the more reassuringly animal writhing of pain. It takes a few minutes before the movements change again to the grasping, clawing desperation of oncoming asphyxiation. A few minutes after that the body falls still. And yet the men holding the restraints do not move. They stay, pulling so hard their hands have all turned red. Only the robed man moves, muttering chants you do not recognise as either prayers or curses. It is only now, as the man intones too quiet for you to quite hear, that you begin to feel what the woman must have felt. A pushing. An order. An order given to that which is really you telling you that you cannot leave. You are pushed down, flattened, you seep into the cracks of the being that is not quite you and dry there, solidifying, the edges of your being melting into the bars of the cage which holds you. <<set $Overpower = $Overpower - 1>>Your Overpower is now $Overpower<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<set $Beguile = $Beguile - 1>>Your Beguile is now $Beguile<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<set $Obscure = $Obscure - 1>>Your Obscure is now $Obscure<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> <<set $Manifest = $Manifest + 3>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> The pressure lifts as the man’s lips stop moving, but you are still dazed, still too unsure of the new boundaries of where you end and your body begins as a wet fart echoes around the room. The man who had been holding the strings of the woman’s groin covering moves quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent the soiling of the inside of the leather restraints. You hear the wet sound and rattle of the pipe beneath the table filling. The robed man scowls as the other two men bustle around him, removing the restraints and cleaning them of shit and spit and wax and tears. You watch, sprawled in your dark corner, as they begin the familiar rites of embalming. It is a quick process, not shoddy, but not thorough. A process of sanitation, not respect. Once the corpse and the equipment are both clean the robed man banishes the other two men with a wave of his hand. Bowing fearfully they retreat back out of the door they came through. The robed man watches them go, steps forward and jams something deep down the woman’s throat. She sits up and wordlessly follows him out of another door opposite to the one they entered from. You will not subject yourself to what it would take to follow them. Nor will you waste your time exploring where they came from. Three doors await you at the far end of the room. A line and a circle are painted on a tile above the far door. [[Right|V Wrong 6]] [[Forward|Maze 7]] [[Left|V Wrong 6]] <<if $HoH is true>> I think the moment I knew I had to help Sophie was the moment I knew she terrified me. She had a habit of keying cars. She’d walk down the street with her car key in her hand and when we passed a four-wheel drive, one of the big ones, the inner-city, private-school, keep-the-kids-safe kind – she’d key it. She wasn’t stupid about it. She’d only do it when she was confident she could get away with it. When there was no-one else around. Except for me. It was all right for me to be around. Still, it was brave. I mean, it has to be brave, because if it wasn’t we’d all do it. If you get hit by a regular car, you roll over the top and, on average, you’re flipping a coin over whether you live or die. If an SUV hits you, you’re going under, into the flash of darkness, the heat of the – the mechanical bits and the squeal of the wheels. And, on average, you’re running a one in five chance of seeing light again on the other side. Sophie thought that if someone is going to take that risk with your body, then you have the right to make them pay for it. If there are two options and someone deliberately chooses the one that endangers other people more, then they’ve forfeited the right to have good neighbours. Do unto others, and all that. [little laugh.] Sophie did say all that. But before it she said ‘they’re cunts’. And then she said that again afterwards as well. Sorry about the language. No, fuck that. Cunts deserve to be called cunts. That’s what freedom of speech means. You can do what you like, but if what you do is cunty, or cuntish, or arseholish, whatever, you get called a cunt. I’m off track. What I mean is, she did things. She’d break things. She told me she used to do graffiti, but didn’t really see the point in it any more. I never did any of the breaking or vandalising myself. When I was with her I told myself that I didn’t have to, because she was already doing it. And when I wasn’t with her, which was most of the time of course, I … I told myself I didn’t have the skills. Not to get caught. Which might be true. I’m putting it off. [knocks on desk.] I liked seeing the way she’d take a stand: actually do something. I liked it, I think it did draw me to her. But then I saw her do it to a person. We were at a pub, I won’t say which one, and I won’t say where. [laugh, madly] Why? Why am I looking for protection for that? As if that’s… [recovering from laughter] We were at a bar. It was busy, so we were both already pissed off. It was the cheapest place we could find around that would give us food at that time. So we were both sober, but we were probably the only ones in there who were. There was a group of guys, down from the city. I don’t know why. We were in a small place, I don’t know why they were there. But they were … well they were arseholes. There was a table of women, they might have been teenagers, and they wouldn’t leave them alone. So the girls left. Then they moved on to another group of older women, not old just older, until they also left. The other women at the pub had men around them, so they were relatively safe. But there was a waitress, who’d already told them ‘no’ earlier in the evening, but they yelled at the man at the bar when he tried to cut them off and they just got drunker and drunker. Until one of them grabbed the waitress around the hips and dry humped her. It was just a … I was going to say it was just a couple of times, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? She got away and the guy’s mates laughed. Sophie went to the bar and ordered a bottle of something. Then she came back to the table and just sat there, staring at the man. He didn’t notice. I’m so fucking glad he didn’t notice. I asked Sophie if we could leave. She said no. She said she was waiting for something. I asked what. She didn’t tell me. Then the guy went off to piss. She didn’t hesitate, straight up, followed him straight in. She didn’t check if anyone saw, but I did, and they didn’t. I followed her in. They were playing Is This the Way to Amarillo on full blast, but they didn’t have speakers in the loo, so I heard the sound. The thud. He’d been leaning a bit forward, pissing in the urinal when she’d hit him, so there wasn’t that far for him to fall. His belt caught in the porcelain lip and his torso sagged into the basin. His head rested against the chipped white tile wall. I saw the corners of his expensive shirt start to suck up his piss. Isn’t it great the details you remember. Sophie smashed the glass against the side of the next urinal. And then she pulled his pants down. I didn’t say anything. I knew what she was going to do. She considered it, looking at his smooth white arse. I told her later I had no idea what she was planning, but she must have known that I did. Although she didn’t look at me. I never asked what it was she was trying to carve in to his flesh. I couldn’t see really. The light was almost clinical: dry and buzzing. Yellowed, making the air feel stained. But I didn’t see because there was just too much blood. It [difficulty speaking, almost gagging] bulges out. Like something buried pushed above the surface. I couldn’t see the cut because there was just blood. There was just blood. I couldn’t stop it, there was just blood, there was just blood, on me, everywhere, it wasn’t coming from anywhere I was trying to hold it in her but it was just coming out of her it was just blood it was just-fffffffuck. [Deep breath] [Initially slightly strangled] The bathroom. She was carving. He woke up. Groggy and kind of choke-screaming. She hit him round the face, but the bottle was already just shards. He screamed. My reality split. One part of me grabbed Sophie by the arm and pulled her out a side door, out into the beer garden. She was kind of limp, not really resisting as I pulled her to the car and we drove away. The other part stayed with that spray of blood. The way droplets of it seemed to hang for a moment on the tiles, then jump, frames missing, and they were all smeared, thick lines eating up little thin lines and all getting caught in the crumbling grey grouting. I know another part of me heard him scream, but I can’t remember that part now. That was the night I knew. I knew that Sophie was different. That she wasn’t one of them. One of us. Randle McMurphy. <</if>>

<<careful $cleric>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $cleric.Status is "Dead">>The cleric spills across the floor, his guts bursting out with the smell of rotting meat and faeces. The prisoners watch their tormentor deflate. You [[move to the back of the room.|Wrong 5 examine]]<<else>> The cleric<<dispstats $cleric>> grunts, barks and laughs as he twists the weapons in his hands, lashing idly out at a prisoner without taking his eyes off you. [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: cleric]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $cleric>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $cleric.Status is "Dead">>The cleric spills across the floor, his guts bursting out with the smell of rotting meat and faeces. The prisoners watch their tormentor deflate. You [[move to the back of the room.|Wrong 5 examine]]<<else>> The cleric<<dispstats $cleric>> grunts, barks and laughs as he twists the weapons in his hands, lashing idly out at a prisoner without taking his eyes off you. [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: cleric]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $cleric>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The cleric<<dispstats $cleric>> roars and blinks rapidly to push the tears from his eyes. They roll down his face, pooling with the dirt in the deep lines etched between his features.. [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: cleric]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $cleric>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The cleric<<dispstats $cleric>> grunts, barks and laughs as he twists the weapons in his hands, lashing idly out at a prisoner without taking his eyes off you. [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: cleric]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $cleric>> The cleric closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a long sigh. When his eyes open again, you see they are slitted. He licks his lips and his tongue is forked. He smiles and blood drips from his needle-point incisors. Then a prisoner moves somewhere and the light of a candle illuminates his face and he looks as he did before. Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: cleric]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: cleric]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: cleric]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: cleric]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_five_examine" time 0>><<audio "wrong_five_examine" play>><</timed>> The prisoners, silent now, do nothing as you examine the altar at the back of the room. Circle, triangle, square. There are three doors. Which do you take? [[Right|Maze 6]] [[Forward|Wrong 6]] [[Left|Wrong 6]] <<if $HoH is true>> May 14th 2026, 00:43, S to M: there’s something we haven’t tried 00:44, M to S: What? 00:56, S to M: I found a book 00:56, M to S: What book? 01:02, S to M: we should talk about it in person. see you saturday <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_six_fight" time 0>><<audio "maze_six_fight" play>><</timed>> You dash forward at the nearest of the zombies. You strike it and it stumbles back. You strike again, and again, each blow enough to kill a living man. But this thing picks itself back up each time, and so you strike again and again until you are covered in paper dry viscera, standing above a pile of shredded flesh and splintered bone. The hall is silent. Every corpse in the room has stopped its task and turned to look at you. None move. Something very human happens to you as you watch them watching you. You shiver. Because you have no idea what these creatures are thinking. What does a soul do when it falls through the cracks? You take a step forward, a step to the side. They follow you only with their eyes. There are some you must pass close to as you make your way across the hall. Those you shred. None fight back. By the time you make it to the end of the hall you are dripping with viscera. Freed from their static cages, the pieces of human stuck under your claws and splattered across your skin have started to rot. However comforting for you, the stink which comes off you is undeniable. It will be hard to be subtle when you smell like this. <<set $Obscure = $Obscure - 1>>Your Obscure is now $Obscure<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> You turn away from the still watching corpses and walk some way down a twisting stone corridor, and after a while you feel the temptation tug at you to forget the factory, to simply imagine that the grey stone rooms had never had an interruption. But you cannot forget. You do not believe you ever will. A door, and on the other side, a square room. Two symbols are etched above the far door. A square and a triangle. Which way will you go? [[Right|Wrong 6]] [[Forward|Wrong 6]] [[Left|Maze 7]] <<if $HoH is true>> You dash forward at the nearest of the zombies. You strike it and it stumbles back. You strike again, and again, each blow enough to kill a living man. But this thing picks itself back up each time, and so you strike again and again until you are covered in paper dry viscera, standing above a pile of shredded flesh and splintered bone. The hall is silent. Every corpse in the room has stopped its task and turned to look at you. None move. Something very human happens to you as you watch them watching you. You shiver. Because you have no idea what these creatures are thinking. What does a soul do when it falls through the cracks? You take a step forward, a step to the side. They follow you only with their eyes. There are some you must pass close to as you make your way across the hall. Those you shred. None fight back. By the time you make it to the end of the hall you are dripping with viscera. Freed from their static cages, the pieces of human stuck under your claws and splattered across your skin have started to rot. However comforting for you, the stink which comes off you is undeniable. It will be hard to be subtle when you smell like this. You turn away from the still watching corpses and walk some way down a twisting stone corridor, and after a while you feel the temptation tug at you to forget the factory, to simply imagine that the grey stone rooms had never had an interruption. But you cannot forget. You do not believe you ever will. A door, and on the other side, a square room. Two symbols are etched above the far door. A square and a triangle. Which way will you go? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_six_walk" time 0>><<audio "maze_six_walk" play>><</timed>> You take a step out into the light of the furnaces. The dead do not notice. You take another step, then another. One of the zombies working an anvil, its movements shaky and imprecise but each beat powerful, looks up from its work. Its single yellow eye stares, its split lips part. Slowly, as you walk forward across the warm stone, the noise in the great hall stops. One by one the things that had been children and women and men turn towards you. Something very human happens to you as you watch them watching you. You shiver. Because you have no idea what these creatures are thinking. What does a soul do when it falls through the cracks? You reach the end of the space and turn to look back. Each and every one of the corpses has turned to you. Some stand straight, indistinguishable from the living. Or at least they would be for those with only human senses. Others barely stand, twisted around their breaks: bones, skin, muscles. You turn away from them and walk some way down a twisting stone corridor, and after a while you feel the temptation tug at you to forget the factory, to simply imagine that the grey stone rooms had never had an interruption. But you cannot forget. You do not believe you ever will. A door, and on the other side, a square room. Two symbols are etched above the far door. A square and a triangle. Which way will you go? [[Right|Wrong 6]] [[Forward|Wrong 6]] [[Left|Maze 7]] <<if $HoH is true>> You take a step out into the light of the furnaces. The dead do not notice. You take another step, then another. One of the zombies working an anvil, its movements shaky and imprecise but each beat powerful, looks up from its work. Its single yellow eye stares, its split lips part. Slowly, as you walk forward across the warm stone, the noise in the great hall stops. One by one the things that had been children and women and men turn towards you. Something very human happens to you as you watch them watching you. You shiver. Because you have no idea what these creatures are thinking. What does a soul do when it falls through the cracks? You reach the end of the space and turn to look back. Each and every one of the corpses has turned to you. Some stand straight, indistinguishable from the living. Or at least they would be for those with only human senses. Others barely stand, twisted around their breaks: bones, skin, muscles. You turn away from them and walk some way down a twisting stone corridor, and after a while you feel the temptation tug at you to forget the factory, to simply imagine that the grey stone rooms had never had an interruption. But you cannot forget. You do not believe you ever will. A door, and on the other side, a square room. Two symbols are etched above the far door. A square and a triangle. Which way will you go? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_seven" time 0>><<audio "maze_seven" play>><</timed>> The room is the same as the first many you found: a stone cube. There is no pillar, but there is a table and chair, from which a woman rises as you enter. She looks you up and down. You have seen humans break in a thousand different ways. You can see the subtle signs of fear. But this woman does a good job in trying to hide them. "Demon," she says. She has been expecting you. She has been expecting death. You look her up and down. She is wearing the brown leather uniform of those who have been hunting you since you first emerged in a fountain of blood in this mortal world. The golden cross around her neck sparkles with countless gems. Her buckles are pure silver, her capotain embroidered with a landscape scene above which the saviour hangs in an orb of golden light. You greet the Witch Hunter General. "I am here to stop you." She says, her hand resting loosely on the hilt of her sword. You cannot see them, but you can feel the channels built into the steel. Like the nib of a pen holds ink, this weapon holds holy water. [["The people you work for go against the law of the Lord more than my Master ever will."]] [["Whatever they are paying you, my master can pay more."]] [["You do not need to die. But you will if you draw that sword."]] [["You seek power. Turn away from the Lord and my Master can make you like me. Powerful."]] [[Say nothing and simply attack.|Witch Hunter General]] <<if $HoH is true>> The room is the same as the first many you found: a stone cube. There is no pillar, but there is a table and chair, from which a woman rises as you enter. She looks you up and down. You have seen humans break in a thousand different ways. You can see the subtle signs of fear. But this woman does a good job in trying to hide them. "Demon," she says. She has been expecting you. She has been expecting death. You look her up and down. She is wearing the brown leather uniform of those who have been hunting you since you first emerged in a fountain of blood in this mortal world. The golden cross around her neck sparkles with countless gems. Her buckles are pure silver, her capotain embroidered with a landscape scene above which the saviour hangs in an orb of golden light. You greet the Witch Hunter General. "I am here to stop you." She says, her hand resting loosely on the hilt of her sword. You cannot see them, but you can feel the channels built into the steel. Like the nib of a pen holds ink, this weapon holds holy water. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "v_wrong_six" time 0>><<audio "v_wrong_six" play>><</timed>> Circle Triangle Square [[Right|Maze 7]] [[Forward|Sophie story]] [[Left|Sophie story]] <<if $HoH is true>> Okay. I need to be clear. Because there’s a chance you’ve messed up. I mean, there’s a chance you’ve messed up because I messed up, but still. I need to set this straight. Because if you want to know what I want to tell you, then that’s fine, but if not, there’s a shitty game for you to finish and I want to help you run back to that. Each symbol has a priority and a direction and you’re supposed to follow the one with the highest priority. Again, if you want to keep playing the … the adventure. If not then you just want to pick any of the others. Only one direction is right each time, the others always take you to the same, wrong, place. So, for example, the line means forward and has ‘primary’ priority. The triangle means left and has tertiary priority. If you are presented with just those two, then line trumps triangle, so forward is the answer. If you’ve got line, circle, triangle and square, it doesn’t matter, line – forward – has priority, it’s primary, it always does, so you should move forward. Triangle and square then, square having last priority and meaning back, would then be left, since triangle trumps square and triangle is, as I’ve said, left. So. You’re given shapes and all you have to do is go in the direction indicated by the dominant one. And I’ll tell you that there is one for each direction. So. Now it’s just a test of whether you’ve been listening. I couldn’t make it easier. Because this is the choice. If you’ve been listening to me, to me, then maybe you want to continue that. Maybe you realise that that matters more than the rest of this. Not that that’s hard. So. If you get this right, you can go straight back to the adventure, have your made up little character complete a meaningless quest and pat yourself on the back for a job well done. True ludic victory. But if you get it wrong, then you’re coming with me. We’re going to meet Sophie. <</if>>

<<timed 45s>><<audio "sophie_story" time 0>><<audio "sophie_story" play>><</timed>> <ul><li>[[Sophie|Sophie script]]: A thirty-three year old woman, who at the beginning of our story is an online fortune teller and witch.</li> <li>[[Me|Narrator script]]: A man. Our narrator of necessity.</li> <li>[[Johanna|Johanna script]]: My mother.</li> <li>[[Amy]]: Sophie’s deceased sister.</li> <li>[[Arisen]]: An ultimately meaningless gesture.</li> <li>[[Bune]], or Bimé, or Bumé, or Bim: A duke of hell.</li></ul> <<if $HoH is true>> <<timed 45s>>I wrote a play. A story of doomed love in Stalin’s Russia. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever written. I had dreams of seeing it performed at the Edinburgh Fringe. It’s the only major piece I’ve written for a competition which ended up bombing.<</timed>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_people_you" time 0>><<audio "the_people_you" play>><</timed>> She shrugs. "Therefore have I uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not. "I will not listen to you, serpent. I will not question." She draws her sword with a thin spray of water. [[Fight.|Witch Hunter General]] <<if $HoH is true>> She shrugs. "Therefore have I uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not. "I will not listen to you, serpent. I will not question." She draws her sword with a thin spray of water. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "whatever_they_are" time 0>><<audio "whatever_they_are" play>><</timed>> The woman’s fingers tap against the hilt of her sword. "Prove it." You pull a golden scale loose from your hide and pass it to her. Then another, then another, and another. They lie gleaming at her feet.<<if $Manifest > 1>> <<set $Manifest = $Manifest - 1>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>><</if>> "And there will be more, if I go?" You tell her that there will be. That a deal is a deal. And that your master has no shortage of gold. She does seem to think. She does not immediately stoop and scoop the coins into a bag and leave through the door you entered by. But she does do those things. As you are accustomed to, there is a symbol carved into the rock above the door opposite the one you entered through. A triangle. The usual choice: [[Right|Wrong 7]] [[Forward|Wrong 7]] [[Left|Maze 8]] <<if $HoH is true>> The woman’s fingers tap against the hilt of her sword. "Prove it." You pull a golden scale loose from your hide and pass it to her. Then another, then another, and another. They lie gleaming at her feet. "And there will be more, if I go?" You tell her that there will be. That a deal is a deal. And that your master has no shortage of gold. She does seem to think. She does not immediately stoop and scoop the coins into a bag and leave through the door you entered by. But she does do those things. As you are accustomed to, there is a symbol carved into the rock above the door opposite the one you entered through. A triangle. The usual choice: <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "not_need_die" time 0>><<audio "not_need_die" play>><</timed>> "Do you promise me immortality?" You hesitate for just a moment, but that is enough. She draws her sword, her expression almost sad. "Then I will take my chances now." [[Fight.|Witch Hunter General]] <<if $HoH is true>> "Do you promise me immortality?" You hesitate for just a moment, but that is enough. She draws her sword, her expression almost sad. "Then I will take my chances now." <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "you_seek_power" time 0>><<audio "you_seek_power" play>><</timed>> Her composure is broken by a sneer of disgust. "Be like you?" she barks out a laugh and draws her sword. "I will take death instead, if that is my only other course." [[Fight.|Witch Hunter General]] <<if $HoH is true>> Her composure is broken by a sneer of disgust. "Be like you?" she barks out a laugh and draws her sword. "I will take death instead, if that is my only other course." <</if>>

<><<set $witchhuntergeneral = { Name: "The Witch Hunter General", Attack: 8, Guard: 9, Health: 12, Perception: 6, Resistance: 4, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> The Witch Hunter General<<dispstats $witchhuntergeneral>> stands ready, her dripping sword out in a perfect fencer’s stance. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntergeneral]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntergeneral]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "wrong_seven" time 0>><<audio "wrong_seven" play>><</timed>> The cubic room does not have symbols carved upon the plinth in the centre. Instead it reads: <div style="text-align: center;">The shape of the market. The sign of the inn. The arms of the grandest family.</div> Which door will you choose? [[Right|Maze 8]] [[Forward|V Wrong 7]] [[Left|V Wrong 7]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Sound of typing.] <</if>>

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "maze_eight" time 0>><<audio "maze_eight" play>><</timed>> <<set $necromancer = { Name: "Necromancer", Attack: 9, Guard: 10, Health: 20, Perception: 8, Resistance: 5, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <>The room beyond is dark. The floor is moist, like dew rather than slime. The air tastes of salt. The smells of soap and embalming fluids tickle you. "I do not know what you seek," a man says, rising from a large desk in the corner of the room. The corpse he had been examining pulls itself off the wood and moves to stand behind him, "but I have no intention of giving it to you." There is nothing interesting about the appearance of the man. Stained maroon robes hide all about him but his face. He takes a step forward and as he does other figures appear from the shadows to join the corpse he had been working on. You do not have to look at them to sense that they, too, are dead. You ask this man if he is the Archpatriarch. He laughs: a grating, sawing sound. "No. I am his servant. And today, it seems, his protector. "What we are doing here is far too important for it to be disturbed by the likes of you." You ask him how a man of God could do something so heinous. Again, the hacksaw laugh. "God is dead, don’t you know? But there is a great deal of value to be found in a corpse. Here, let me show you." And with that the necromancer and his corpses<<dispstats $necromancer>> run forward, simple swords held in cold hands. [[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: necromancer]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><<if $Feather>> [[Hold up the feather.]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> The room beyond is dark. The floor is moist, like dew rather than slime. The air tastes of salt. The smells of soap and embalming fluids tickle you. "I do not know what you seek," a man says, rising from a large desk in the corner of the room. The corpse he had been examining pulls itself off the wood and moves to stand behind him, "but I have no intention of giving it to you." There is nothing interesting about the appearance of the man. Stained maroon robes hide all about him but his face. He takes a step forward and as he does other figures appear from the shadows to join the corpse he had been working on. You do not have to look at them to sense that they, too, are dead. You ask this man if he is the Archpatriarch. He laughs: a grating, sawing sound. "No. I am his servant. And today, it seems, his protector. "What we are doing here is far too important for it to be disturbed by the likes of you." You ask him how a man of God could do something so heinous. Again, the hacksaw laugh. "God is dead, don’t you know? But there is a great deal of value to be found in a corpse. Here, let me show you." And with that the necromancer and his corpses run forward, simple swords held in cold hands. <</if>>

<<careful $witchhuntergeneral>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $witchhuntergeneral.Status is "Dead">>You gore the Witch Hunter General and she falls to the ground, her insides snaking past the hand she has thrown up to keep herself together. Between blood flecked coughs she manages to look up at you and say: "It wasn’t worth it." Before the pain takes her and she moves beyond comprehension. As you are accustomed to, there is a symbol carved into the rock above the door opposite the one you entered through. A triangle. The usual choice: [[Right|Wrong 7]] [[Forward|Wrong 7]] [[Left|Maze 8]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter General<<dispstats $witchhuntergeneral>> rolls her head on her neck, professional and determined. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntergeneral]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntergeneral]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $witchhuntergeneral>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $witchhuntergeneral.Status is "Dead">>You gore the Witch Hunter General and she falls to the ground, her insides snaking past the hand she has thrown up to keep herself together. Between blood flecked coughs she manages to look up at you and say: "It wasn’t worth it." Before the pain takes her and she moves beyond comprehension. As you are accustomed to, there is a symbol carved into the rock above the door opposite the one you entered through. A triangle. The usual choice: [[Right|Wrong 7]] [[Forward|Wrong 7]] [[Left|Maze 8]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter General<<dispstats $witchhuntergeneral>> rolls her head on her neck, professional and determined. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntergeneral]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntergeneral]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $witchhuntergeneral>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter General<<dispstats $witchhuntergeneral>> shakes her head and sighs, an amused glint in her eyes. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntergeneral]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntergeneral]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $witchhuntergeneral>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Witch Hunter General<<dispstats $witchhuntergeneral>> narrows her eyes, smiles bitterly, and loosens her shoulders. [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntergeneral]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: witchhuntergeneral]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $witchhuntergeneral>> The Witch Hunter General<<dispstats $witchhuntergeneral>> grunts, spits. "Clever. Where did you learn that little trick? I could do with something like that." She spins her sword in her hand, creating a circle of tiny droplets. "Let’s finish this then." Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: witchhuntergeneral]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: witchhuntergeneral]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<prepare $necromancer>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>><<if $CorpseKiller>> The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> looks frantically one way and then the other as he fumbles a round piece of metal into his weapon.<<else>>The necromancer and his corpses<<dispstats $necromancer>> move back and forward in a complex but predictable rhythm, watching you with cold eyes.<</if>> [[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: necromancer]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><<if $Feather>> [[Hold up the feather.]]<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "v_wrong_seven" time 0>><<audio "v_wrong_seven" play>><</timed>> [[Finish the game|Maze 8]] [[Listen|Sophie story]] <<if $HoH is true>> That last one was unfair. I wanted to do something clever, the kind of puzzle I wish games had now, but I wouldn’t have got it. They were all circles, by the way. I should penalise you somehow and then pop you back on the main plot. But I don’t want to. Because I’m hoping that the reason you’re here is because you want to be. Because the puerile quest isn’t grabbing your attention. Or because you actually want to hear me. That felt wrong to say. Now I’m thinking that this was all a huge mistake. That this whole thing was better before I ruined it, that it was a fine little adventure that a handful of people would snack on, think was a fine way to spend an hour, and then shit out and never think about again. But I made it, so I get to bleed all over it. It’s my art. And I may hate it, I may think it’s fucking meaningless ‘entertainment’, shock factor schlock, but it came out of my hands and no-one has the right to say it should have been another way. It’s my party. But maybe I should have been like Goya. I should have kept my dirty washing private. Tomorrow I’ll probably agree with that. But by tomorrow it will be too late. I have to do this tonight. [Long pause, more sobby when I come back] I’m going to give you the choice. The choice to get out. To stop this. The choice I wish I had. The choice I did have. It’s not fair to say I didn’t. I did. I just didn’t want to think I did. And the worst part is. The worst part. I’m not sure I wish I’d taken it. <</if>>

<<careful $necromancer>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1 or $necromancer.Status is "Dead">><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $necromancer.Status is "Dead">>With a scream the necromancer falls to the ground. "Please, please, you can’t!" he gurgles through a mouthful of his own blood. "Please, I can teach you things. I was wrong, hell clearly has great power, there is much we-" His speech is cut off as you slice open his exposed throat. There is no agreement to be made with this monster. You step over his cooling corpse and pick your way between those who had already died. The little door at the back of the room can only lead to one thing. One person. [[Find the Archpatriarch.]]<</if>><<else>><<if $necromancer.Health < 6 and not hasVisited("Hold up the feather.") and $CorpseKiller is not true>><> <<set $Feather to false>> <<set $CorpseKiller to true>> <<set $necromancer.Attack = $necromancer.Attack - 5>> <<set $necromancer.Guard = $necromancer.Guard - 3>> <<set $necromancer.Perception = $necromancer.Perception - 4>> <>Your attack brings down the last of the reanimated corpses. The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> looks around in confusion, and then he wails with anguish and fear. "Damn you, demon! You thing of a dead age! This is no longer your time! You are not wanted and you are not needed! You, beast of an unenlightened time, I will purge you!" He reaches inside his robes and pulls out a simple looking device, a long stick with a hole in one end. He points it towards you and a large cloud of smoke pours out of the end as a small piece of metal flies past your head. "Begone!" the man shouts as he fiddles with the device. <<elseif $CorpseKiller>>The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> swears and shouts, his formerly deep voice reaching a falsetto as he pours a black powder into the end of his weapon. <<else>>The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> holds back while his corpses rearrange themselves ready for another attack. <</if>>[[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: necromancer]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><<if $Feather>> [[Hold up the feather.]]<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $necromancer>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1 or $necromancer.Status is "Dead">><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $necromancer.Status is "Dead">>With a scream the necromancer falls to the ground. "Please, please, you can’t!" he gurgles through a mouthful of his own blood. "Please, I can teach you things. I was wrong, hell clearly has great power, there is much we-" His speech is cut off as you slice open his exposed throat. There is no agreement to be made with this monster. You step over his cooling corpse and pick your way between those who had already died. The little door at the back of the room can only lead to one thing. One person. [[Find the Archpatriarch.]]<</if>><<else>><<if $necromancer.Health < 6 and not hasVisited("Hold up the feather.") and $CorpseKiller is not true>><> <<set $Feather to false>> <<set $CorpseKiller to true>> <<set $necromancer.Attack = $necromancer.Attack - 5>> <<set $necromancer.Guard = $necromancer.Guard - 3>> <<set $necromancer.Perception = $necromancer.Perception - 4>> <>Your attack brings down the last of the reanimated corpses. The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> looks around in confusion, and then he wails with anguish and fear. "Damn you, demon! You thing of a dead age! This is no longer your time! You are not wanted and you are not needed! You, beast of an unenlightened time, I will purge you!" He reaches inside his robes and pulls out a simple looking device, a long stick with a hole in one end. He points it towards you and a large cloud of smoke pours out of the end as a small piece of metal flies past your head. "Begone!" the man shouts as he fiddles with the device. <<elseif $CorpseKiller>>The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> swears and shouts, his formerly deep voice reaching a falsetto as he pours a black powder into the end of his weapon. <<else>>The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> holds back while his corpses rearrange themselves ready for another attack. <</if>>[[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: necromancer]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><<if $Feather>> [[Hold up the feather.]]<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $necromancer>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>>The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> spits towards you, the thick and stringy saliva hanging from his slightly open mouth and hanging just above his chin. [[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: necromancer]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>><<if $Feather>> [[Hold up the feather.]]<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $necromancer>> You cast your rite, you mix your power with the necromancer's<<dispstats $necromancer>>. You feel a heartbeat pass. The man coughs once, then a stream of thick black vomit shoots out of his mouth. You understand exactly how he feels. You have taken something truly noxious into yourself. It squirms within you, not anathema, but nonetheless wrong. "Dirt." You hear your master’s voice. "A fallen, fallen. You are not welcome." Through the pain, you understand. You are dirt. The necromancer stands, wiping vomit from his mouth away with the back of an already stained sleeve. The fight is not over. Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $Feather>> [[Hold up the feather.]]<</if>>

<><<set $CorpseKiller to true>><<set $Feather to false>> <<set $necromancer.Attack = $necromancer.Attack - 5>> <<set $necromancer.Guard = $necromancer.Guard - 3>> <<if $necromancer.Health < 11>><<set $necromancer.Health = 5>><<else>><<set $necromancer.Health = $necromancer.Health - 10>><</if>> <<set $necromancer.Perception = $necromancer.Perception - 4>><> You hold up the feather, the mark of the tenuous covenant between heaven and hell, of the mutual understanding between God and the Devil that some things are larger than both of them. There is something both like and totally unlike a ‘BANG!’ Something pushes out at the same moment as something totally ceases to be. There is light and darkness, movement and stillness, rise and fall. There is an explosion of contradiction. The corpses fall. The necromancer<<dispstats $necromancer>> looks around in confusion, and then he wails with anguish and fear. "Damn you, demon! You thing of a dead age! This is no longer your time! You are not wanted and you are not needed! You, beast of an unenlightened era, I will purge you!" He reaches inside his robes and pulls out a simple looking device, a long stick with a hole in one end. He points it towards you and a large cloud of smoke pours out of the end as a small piece of metal flies past your head. "Begone!" the man shouts as he fiddles with the device. [[Careful attack|CA: necromancer]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: necromancer]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: necromancer]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: necromancer]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: necromancer]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "find_the_archpatriarch" time 0>><<audio "find_the_archpatriarch" play>><</timed>> The hall echoes with each step that you take, your claws clicking against flawless marble. Pillars of obsidian rise like trees in an orchard to your left and right, their cracks filled with lines of gold. One hundred and fifty steps rise up to the dais. A band of blood red silk carpet streams down the centre of the steps. The moon strikes through the wall ahead of you, playing shadows over your face as you walk across the patterns the stained glass etches into the floor. The son, twenty times larger than life. His face twisted in sorrow and pain. Blood dripping from the clogged, gangrenous holes pushed through his wrists and ankles by rusty iron nails. Comparatively small thieves dying around him, the pinks of a sun setting over the dusty hills of a far away land. The first rays of your own rising sun pick out miniscule impurities in the glass, send a shower of sparking glitter across the seamless white floor. Day has joined night to bear witness. A throne of twisted bars of gold and silver and platinum. Dragons and leviathans and lions twist in and out of each other, their elongated bodies entwined, a twisting, mythical rat king in the shape of a chair. It is loaded with padded cushioning, constructed after, to keep the arse of its occupant from becoming numbed by the unevenness of the surface. Sapphires and rubies glitter on rings, diamonds in the links of the great chain. Twisting armbands glitter with opals and garnets. A crucifix the size of a man’s hand and composed of one piece of carved jade lies against purple robes trimmed with cloth of gold. The smells are rose, frankincense, myrrh, and human piss. The man who squirms on the throne is neither old nor young. His eyes seem as if they are perpetually watery, but you will never know, for at this moment he is weeping. His hands push backwards against the arms of his throne, but the metal is smooth and his hands are sweaty, so they simply slide straight off. Not that pushing himself harder into the metal menagerie of his throne would help. "Stay back." He hisses, his strong voice a trilling echo in the empty hall. You look around, but no guards rush from between pillars. When your gaze returns to him, the Archpatriarch has not moved. "In the name of the Lord," he commands, "stay back, demon!" You pause for a moment, if only to see the hope drain from his eyes as you resume your climb. You had begun to think that this man may not beg, as he attempts to sit up straight, attempts to look you in the eyes. Then he oozes forward in his chair, his robes rippling as he cries out, his voice bashing its way around the room: "Please! Please! I’ll do anything! Please! Give me a chance! Please!" [["There is no mercy for you. Not here. And not in hell."]] [["What would you offer my master?"]] <<if $HoH is true>> The hall echoes with each step that you take, your claws clicking against flawless marble. Pillars of obsidian rise like trees in an orchard to your left and right, their cracks filled with lines of gold. One hundred and fifty steps rise up to the dais. A band of blood red silk carpet streams down the centre of the steps. The moon strikes through the wall ahead of you, playing shadows over your face as you walk across the patterns the stained glass etches into the floor. The son, twenty times larger than life. His face twisted in sorrow and pain. Blood dripping from the clogged, gangrenous holes pushed through his wrists and ankles by rusty iron nails. Comparatively small thieves dying around him, the pinks of a sun setting over the dusty hills of a far away land. The first rays of your own rising sun pick out miniscule impurities in the glass, send a shower of sparking glitter across the seamless white floor. Day has joined night to bear witness. A throne of twisted bars of gold and silver and platinum. Dragons and leviathans and lions twist in and out of each other, their elongated bodies entwined, a twisting, mythical rat king in the shape of a chair. It is loaded with padded cushioning, constructed after, to keep the arse of its occupant from becoming numbed by the unevenness of the surface. Sapphires and rubies glitter on rings, diamonds in the links of the great chain. Twisting armbands glitter with opals and garnets. A crucifix the size of a man’s hand and composed of one piece of carved jade lies against purple robes trimmed with cloth of gold. The smells are rose, frankincense, myrrh, and human piss. The man who squirms on the throne is neither old nor young. His eyes seem as if they are perpetually watery, but you will never know, for at this moment he is weeping. His hands push backwards against the arms of his throne, but the metal is smooth and his hands are sweaty, so they simply slide straight off. Not that pushing himself harder into the metal menagerie of his throne would help. "Stay back." He hisses, his strong voice a trilling echo in the empty hall. You look around, but no guards rush from between pillars. When your gaze returns to him, the Archpatriarch has not moved. "In the name of the Lord," he commands, "stay back, demon!" You pause for a moment, if only to see the hope drain from his eyes as you resume your climb. You had begun to think that this man may not beg, as he attempts to sit up straight, attempts to look you in the eyes. Then he oozes forward in his chair, his robes rippling as he cries out, his voice bashing its way around the room: "Please! Please! I’ll do anything! Please! Give me a chance! Please!" <</if>>

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "there_no_mercy" time 0>><<audio "there_no_mercy" play>><</timed>> <<set $Archpatriarch = { Name: "Archpatriarch", Attack: 1, Guard: 1, Health: 5, Perception: 2, Resistance: 3, Status: "Alive", }>> <<initiate>> <> The Archpatriarch<<dispstats $Archpatriarch>> half rises from his chair, then falls back again. What do you do? [[Careful attack|CA: Archpatriarch]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: Archpatriarch]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: Archpatriarch]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: Archpatriarch]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: Archpatriarch]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> The Archpatriarch half rises from his chair, then falls back again. What do you do? <</if>>

<<timed 1s>><<audio "no_deal" time 0>><<audio "no_deal" play>><</timed>> <<timed 1s>><div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">No.</div> <<timed 1.5s>>No deal. [[Kill him.|"There is no mercy for you. Not here. And not in hell."]]<</timed>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> No. No deal. <</if>>

<<careful $Archpatriarch>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $Archpatriarch.Status is "Dead">>The Archpatriarch’s blood flows across and down the bodies of the beasts that make up his throne. [[He is dead.]]<<else>> The Archpatriarch<<dispstats $Archpatriarch>> screams. [[Careful attack|CA: Archpatriarch]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: Archpatriarch]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: Archpatriarch]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: Archpatriarch]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: Archpatriarch]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<ferocious $Archpatriarch>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<elseif $Archpatriarch.Status is "Dead">>The Archpatriarch’s blood flows across and down the bodies of the beasts that make up his throne. [[He is dead.]]<<else>> The Archpatriarch<<dispstats $Archpatriarch>> screams. [[Careful attack|CA: Archpatriarch]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: Archpatriarch]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: Archpatriarch]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage. [[Prepare a feint|PF: Archpatriarch]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: Archpatriarch]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<sweettalk $Archpatriarch>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Archpatriarch<<dispstats $Archpatriarch>> screams. [[Careful attack|CA: Archpatriarch]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: Archpatriarch]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: Archpatriarch]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: Archpatriarch]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: Archpatriarch]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<prepare $Archpatriarch>> <<timed 2s>><<if $Manifest < 1>>[[Embrace nothingness.]]<<else>> The Archpatriarch<<dispstats $Archpatriarch>> screams. [[Careful attack|CA: Archpatriarch]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: Archpatriarch]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: Archpatriarch]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: Archpatriarch]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>><<if $MR>> [[Invoke the butcher's contract.|BR: Archpatriarch]]Average your Manifest with your opponent's health. You can only ever do this once.<</if>> <</if>><</timed>>

<<butcher $Archpatriarch>> The Archpatriarch<<dispstats $Archpatriarch>> screams. Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> [[Careful attack|CA: Archpatriarch]]Roll Overpower vs Attack, winner deals damage. [[Ferocious flurry|FF: Archpatriarch]]Guaranteed damage, but unless Guard is overwhelmed or enemy dies you will take damage in return. [[Sweet talk|ST: Archpatriarch]]Roll Beguile vs Resistance, if you win you lower enemy stats, if you lose you take damage.<<if not $Prepped>> [[Prepare a feint|PF: Archpatriarch]]Roll Obscure vs Perception, if you win you add Obscure to next attack, if you lose you take damage.<</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "he_is_dead_1" time 0>><<audio "he_is_dead_1" play>><</timed>> You watch as his body slides, lubricated by his own blood, off his chair and then, slowly at first then faster and faster, down the steps to the floor below. The sun warms your back as it rises behind you. The figure of the saviour is painted across the clear white floor. <<if visited("Embrace Nothingness") > 2 or hasVisited("BR: necromancer")>><<timed 17s>><<audio "he_is_dead_FAI" time 0>><<audio "he_is_dead_FAI" play>><</timed>>You turn to look. It rises slowly, painting its way across the hills of Jerusalem. A thousand different colours in that light. But eventually it is gone, somewhere high above you, and you are left with red, white and black. You look around. The Archpatriarch lies crumpled where he fell. The room is quiet and cold. You are very far from home.<<else>><<timed 17s>><<audio "he_is_dead_SUC" time 0>><<audio "he_is_dead_SUC" play>><</timed>>The heat rises. Hotter and hotter, until it starts to burn. Smoke rises in thin strands around you, then in heavy clouds as the smells of burning and sounds of torment reach up to you. And pull you down. <<set $Manifest = 0>>Your Manifest is now $Manifest<<script>>UIBar.update();<</script>> You are going home.<</if>> [[The end.]] <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited("Embrace Nothingness") > 2 or hasVisited("BR: necromancer")>>You watch as his body slides, lubricated by his own blood, off his chair and then, slowly at first then faster and faster, down the steps to the floor below. The sun warms your back as it rises behind you. The figure of the saviour is painted across the clear white floor. You turn to look. It rises slowly, painting its way across the hills of Jerusalem. A thousand different colours in that light. But eventually it is gone, somewhere high above you, and you are left with red, white and black. You look around. The Archpatriarch lies crumpled where he fell. The room is quiet and cold. You are very far from home.<<else>>You watch as his body slides, lubricated by his own blood, off his chair and then, slowly at first then faster and faster, down the steps to the floor below. The sun warms your back as it rises behind you. The figure of the saviour is painted across the clear white floor.The heat rises. Hotter and hotter, until it starts to burn. Smoke rises in thin strands around you, then in heavy clouds as the smells of burning and sounds of torment reach up to you. And pull you down. You are going home.<</if>> <</if>>

Thank you for playing: <img src="Pictures/Title.png" style="max-width: 75%; max-height: 33vh"/> Well done! You're the best! Want to check out the [[credits]]? Or what about <<link "Playing again?" "Title">> <<run Engine.restart()>> <</link>>

<div style="text-align: center; font-size: 100px">Arisen</div> <div style="text-align: center; font-size: 30px">A game by Milo van Mesdag</div> [[Start]] [[Content warning]] [[Options]]

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "what_is_your" time 0>><<audio "what_is_your" play>><</timed>> The man looks at you as if he does not understand. Then he looks away and slowly, very slowly, he collapses backwards until he is a child sitting on the stairs. His robe falls open to reveal bony legs. They are outsized, cricket-like. He begins to cry softly. "I loved her," he says first. It is not an admission of guilt and it is not for you, but it is an admission. "She was the only good thing in my life. She was older. She took my beatings. "And then she left me. No. That is not honest. She ran away. I was not enough for her. I could not keep her safe. "And I did not follow her. I could not even do that. She needed me. Needs me. I do nothing." For a long time you watch the tears fall across his smooth cheeks. Veins of silver through marble. "I [[exist]]. I’m still here. "That’s my real sin." He looks up at you. Your eyes reflect himself back at him. You find the flowers in his bedroom. You do not see the man again as you [[leave.|Got flowers]] <<if $HoH is true>> The man looks at you as if he does not understand. Then he looks away and slowly, very slowly, he collapses backwards until he is a child sitting on the stairs. His robe falls open to reveal bony legs. They are outsized, cricket-like. He begins to cry softly. "I loved her," he says first. It is not an admission of guilt and it is not for you, but it is an admission. "She was the only good thing in my life. She was older. She took my beatings. "And then she left me. No. That is not honest. She ran away. I was not enough for her. I could not keep her safe. "And I did not follow her. I could not even do that. She needed me. Needs me. I do nothing." For a long time you watch the tears fall across his smooth cheeks. Veins of silver through marble. "I exist. I’m still here. "That’s my real sin." He looks up at you. Your eyes reflect himself back at him. You find the flowers in his bedroom. You do not see the man again as you leave. <</if>>

Content warning. <ul><li>Suicide and suicidal ideation.</li> <li>Self harm.</li> <li>Animal abuse.</li> <li>Eating disorders.</li> <li>Murder.</li> <li>Gore.</li> <li>Body horror.</li> <li>Bereavement.</li> <li>Needles.</li> <li>Kidnapping.</li> <li>Cult activity.</li> <li>Christian and demonic imagery.</li> <li>Drug use.</li> <li>Supernatural entities.</li></ul> There is also one instance of flashing images, but the player is given the chance to opt out of it before it occurs. <<return>>

Options are available through the sidebar, along with a space in which you can take notes. The sidebar can be revealed by pressing the arrow in the top left hand corner, and stowed by pressing the same arrow, now in the top right hand of the sidebar. A hard of hearing option is provided, but it is not recommended unless you really cannot hear or understand the audio. In this mode, the spoken dialogue is displayed below the written text. Due to engine limitations, turning on hard of hearing mode will only activate the feature from the following passage from the one on which it is turned on. <<return>>

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"turn_the_page" "Audio/Sophie_Story/turn_the_page.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "pumping_station" "Audio/Sophie_Story/pumping_station.mp3">> <<set $barbara = { Name: "The Ghost of Barbara Cottor", Attack: 6, Guard: 7, Health: 15, Perception: 3, Resistance: 5, Status: "Alive", }>> <<set $StopAudio = true>> <<set $Paused to false>><<set $PauseButton to "❚❚">> <<set $Volume to 0.7>> <<set $HoH to false>>

This passage is disconnected. No narration. You look mor I can’t. Fuck fuckfjddfjisoa vrjjjjjjjdxb;ew dfndfndfndfndfnjk;AS;gfhioerswjk

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "sophie_script" time 0>><<audio "sophie_script" play>><</timed>> <<if visited() > 1>><<goto "Amy">><</if>> <> <center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Sophie_Room.jpeg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 72vh"/>' "Choosing Bune">><</link>></center> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px"><<link "🡐" "Narrator script">><</link>></div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px"><<link "🡒" "Bune">><</link>></div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> It smelled of incense. The rug was old and uncomfortable but we always sat on it. It could get quite bright in the evenings, but generally she’d only open the curtains and draw the blind when the sky got a bit darker, turned red. First she read tarot. Then we found spells, first from the internet, then from books, then from the internet again, from corners which were harder to find. Then we brewed potions, which smelt bad enough to overwhelm the incense and boiled over to stain the carpet. Then we tried Ouija boards. We bought an expensive set, before she resorted to stealing antiques, but even with that it felt tacky and cheap. We laughed once about that. There had been quite a bit of laughing, during the spells and the potions. The Ouija was the last time we laughed. Next were the séances. They weren’t too different from what we’d done before. But it felt much more serious. And for the first time, it felt like a risk. We tried it straight, we tried it wiccan, we tried it horribly offensively indigenous American and African. Somewhere in the middle of the séances Sophie crashed her car. She told everyone she had lost control of the vehicle. I think they all thought it was a suicide attempt. She told me she’d done it on purpose, sideswiping that tree. She knew she wouldn’t die. She thought she wouldn’t die. But in coming close, she might be able to reach across for just a moment. Another failed attempt to make contact. It was around then that we knew what we had to do. Because there was a line we’d never crossed. And we began to ask ourselves why. So we stopped the séances and we moved out of Sophie’s bedroom. And into the woods. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "narrator_script" time 0>><<audio "narrator_script" play>><</timed>> <<if visited() > 1>><<goto "Johanna script">><</if>> <> <><<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 0px 0px 15px 0px; max-width: 49%; max-height: 90vh" src="Pictures/Sophie.jpeg" />' "Sophie script">><</link>> <<link '<img style="float: left; margin: 65px 0px 15px 0px; max-width: 49%; max-height: 90vh" src="Pictures/Milo.jpeg"/>' "Arisen">><</link>><> <<if $HoH is true>> I think I’ve spoken enough about how I see myself. Maybe you missed it. It’s not important. There was a time when I took the train over to see Sophie. Usually we’d go to her apartment. Talk, eat, maybe watch a film or play a game. But she told me her fire-alarm was broken and she couldn’t sit in the house with it beeping all day. So we went out to the park. It was cold but not freezing. You know, the kind of cold that you only notice when you stop moving. We avoided the main part of the park, the big open green. It was pretty deserted, 2pm or whatever it was on a Tuesday. There were some trees around the edge, all nice and arranged on the side that faced the road, but a tangled mess of branches and weeds on the side that abutted a council estate. Sophie knew a spot where we could break through into a little clearing, a space of dead leaves. Dead leaves and broken bottles, discarded cans and cigarette ends. No needles I think, it wasn’t that kind of place. She gestured for me to sit on the ground next to her and laughed when I hesitated. I did sit though. We talked about the usual stuff. Horror films, and Trump, and Amy. I remember regurgitating a meme I saw about how efficient Trump was, how it had taken his predecessors twenty years in Afghanistan to replace the Taliban with the Taliban, while in Iran he’d replaced Ayatollah Khamenei with Ayatollah Khamenei in a week. We talked about the ethics of bombing a girl’s school. Sophie wondered if the IDF had given the US pointers. There was a lull in the conversation while I thought about 120 children’s bodies torn apart, wondering how long it took some of them to die in the name of a war they likely did not even know had started. Sophie pulled out a spliff and lit up. I coughed and she turned to me, smirking and shaking her head. "You really must have been so boring at school." I wanted to make a joke, something like ‘I’m sorry, I was too busy studying so that I wouldn’t have to drop out of university’, but I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t know back then that she liked being hurt. So I just shook my head. "It’s never too late to become interesting," she said, gesturing at me with the spliff. I shook my head. "It gives me anxiety," I said. Which is true, although I haven’t given it many chances. The smell of tobacco was too off-putting anyway. She shrugged and took a long drag. "You confuse me," she said. I replied by saying that I’m a deep and complex individual. She laughed and continued: "You’ll break into a greenhouse in the middle of the night with me to steal herbs for a dark magic ritual, but you won’t smoke dope." I shrugged, my face large-eyed with exaggerated innocence. "It’s because you want to impress me," she said. "If I wanted to impress you," I retorted, "then I would smoke the dope." She nodded and stared at a burnt patch of ground. The air was getting thick with the threat of rain and I noted the earthy smell, which seemed off given the amount of human trash which surrounded us. "Then it’s because you’re kind," she said. "You’ll help me because it’s important to me, but you won’t smoke because there’s no greater point to it." "Deep," I replied. She turned to me, smirking again. "Oh, that’s fun. You can’t take a compliment." "So," I said quickly, changing the subject, "how do you know this place?" "I’ve always known this place," she said quickly, rushing to get to: "You’re funny." "Ha ha." "You’re clever." "Tell my boss." "You’re handsome-" "Tell that to my hairline," I broke in. "-for a bald man, I was going to say, let me finish my fucking sentence." "Sorry." "You should be. You’re open-minded." I didn’t have a reply to that one. I wasn’t really feeling it. She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. I think I looked back confused. "So, you can’t give compliments either." I think I went red, because she laughed and turned away. But I was thinking. "You’re important," I said eventually. She didn’t turn back to look at me. She just kept looking forward. I think she didn’t want me to see her smile. <</if>>

<><<if visited() > 1>><<goto "Sophie script">><</if>> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "Johanna_script" time 0>><<audio "Johanna_script" play>><</timed>><> <<fadein 1s 5s>>[[waiting for him to come home.|Narrator script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 17s>>[[he won’t be coming home tonight.|Sophie script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 23s>>[[feeling like a cage to them both.|Narrator script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 29s>>[[letting go and holding on.|The field]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 31s>>[[failing to find it.|Amy]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 97s>>[[an after-image on the soul.|Bune]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 113s>>[[nothing to leave for.|Narrator script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 136s>>[[come back to her when the world stopped.|Narrator script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 156s>>[[the world started turning again.|Sophie script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 159s>>[[Him holding her hand|Narrator script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 164s>>[[A hundred times, a thousand times|Narrator script]]<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 179s>>[[wondering when the last time was.|Sophie script]]<</fadein>> <<if $HoH is true>> Sitting in the window seat, looking down at the street, waiting for him to come home. Her mouth, ticking down at the edges, her eyes misting for a moment until the tears are blinked away and her smile is pulled straight when he tells her he won’t be coming home tonight. Her telling him he should be home. The concern feeling like a cage to them both. Her looking for that little valley, the mythical path between letting go and holding on. And failing to find it. Sitting in the garden on deck chairs turning green with moss, or mould. Where the winter rains cup in the seat and fester into spring growths. Squinting up at a sun too hot and too bright. The English air thick with motes of pollen and the smell of sunscreen. Ice clinking in glasses too quickly emptied. Laughing with the calm delirium of a body finding itself unexpectedly warm and at rest. And safe. Him...feeling he should hate it. His nose stuffed tight. The colours too bright. Her smile too genuine, too innocent, too desperate. Pathetic in that she cannot let the moment simply be, she must stop after each joke, after each bout of laughter so rare under grey skies to underline how beautiful it all is, how precious, how nice. And yet it soaked into him. A warm echo. An overexposed picture of perfection, an after-image on the soul. Her never shouting. Her eyes speaking not disapproval, not anger, not even really disappointment. Just sadness. A sadness that he had never seen in her before the time there had been nothing to leave for. Back then, in the days of stillness, her sitting together with him in silence. The silence of a whole planet holding its breath, afraid to breathe in. Him catching her staring when he looked up from a book or a laptop screen. Her trying to save it all up. Every second with her boy, her boy who had come back to her when the world stopped. Her sitting in the window seat, looking out. Him looking back up from the street outside. Wondering how much more she needed. How she could have known how precious those moments were and yet been so shocked when the bubble burst. When the world started turning again. Him holding her hand when they crossed the street. A hundred times, a thousand times. Sticky-child’s hand, sweaty-teenager’s hand, limp-adult’s hand, not returning her squeeze. Him sitting in the dark, wondering when the last time was. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "amy" time 0>><<audio "amy" play>><</timed>> <<if visited() > 1 and not hasVisited("Johanna script")>><<goto "Johanna script">><<elseif visited() > 1 and hasVisited("Johanna script")>><<goto "Bune">><</if>> <> <div style="display: flex; justify-content: center; align-items: center; height: 600px;"><center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Amy_2.jpg" style="max-width: 100%; max-height: 100vh"/>' "Sophie script">><</link>></center></div> <<if $HoH is true>> We were sitting in the garage of her parents’ old house. They didn’t live there any more. But when they’d told Sophie they were moving, she’d secretly had another key to the garage cut. She told me she didn’t go there often, although this was the… second time, I think, that I’d been there with her. Creeping in at night so the new owners wouldn’t know we were there. The first time we came with tarot cards, laid them out of the hood of the car that was there. We’d spent the whole time trying to be really subtle, to not make a sound, not move anything. Then right at the end, as we were leaving, Sophie swapped round the order of a bunch of paint pots. It was the youngest I’d ever seen her look. She didn’t play any pranks that second time though. We sat on the cold floor. I was using my phone’s torch to illuminate her stolen Ouija board. We’d been trying for about half an hour. The planchette was greasy with our finger marks. Sophie wasn’t looking at me. She hadn’t looked at me for a while. She was trying to flick on an old lighter, swearing progressively more and more loudly as she failed to light the bundle of sticks she was holding in her other hand. Droplets of water, infused with some floral mixture to which I wasn’t privy, dotted the board, but, as Sophie explained through clenched teeth- "It won’t work without the fucking smoke!" I didn’t understand the process, so I just held the light steady. Her whole body was shaking when suddenly the flame popped out of the black hole at the top of the cheap plastic lighter. She stilled violently, then a moment later the flame hopped from the lighter to the sticks. She did not look up as she reached for the planchette, but I knew that it was time to try again. She mumbled something under her breath, something in Gaelic. I could feel the warmth of her finger tips, the warmth of the sticks. Then, in a voice too controlled, she said: "Amy. Amy, can you hear me?" I felt nothing. The planchette did not move. "Amy? Amy? Can you hear me? Are you there?" The silence was long enough for me to start thinking about my knees, cold and slowly bruising against the hard concrete floor. "Amy!" she snapped, and I looked up quickly. She must have seen my movement out of the corner of her eye, because she hung her head and went back to a whisper. "Amy. Please. If you’re listening. Please. Please, give us some kind of sign." I heard the cliché of it. I wondered if Sophie did. She made no sign of it if she did. Huh. No sign. "Amy. You can’t do this to me. You have to be watching. You owe me that. "You have to hear me Amy. You have to listen now!" I hadn’t realised Sophie was crying until I finally felt something through the planchette. I felt something heave in my stomach. I’m not proud of that. I thought I’d be braver. But when something finally came… But it wasn’t Amy. It was Sophie. Pulling the planchette from my hand and throwing it across the room. A second kind of fear gripped me then, less cold but more real. I tried very hard to listen, to open my senses to any sign that someone in the house had heard the planchette knock against the wall. But all I could hear were Sophie’s sobs. It wasn’t like her to be quiet. Silent, yes, but not this kind of shy, this...kind of, embarrassed. She didn’t want me to hear her cry. She didn’t want to be crying. I didn’t know what to do. So I did the wrong thing. Because it felt better than doing the right thing, which would have been to do nothing. I reached out my hand and gently placed it on her shoulder. She looked up at me, black mascara running in thick columns down her cheeks. She took one shuddering breath, and then one stable deep one. Then she said "we should go." So I picked up the planchette and the board, and we went. And we never talked about it. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "bune" time 0>><<audio "bune" play>><</timed>> <<if visited() > 1>><<goto "Choosing Bune">><</if>> <> <center><img src="Pictures/Bune.jpg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 30vh"/></center> [[BUNE|Choosing Bune]], or [[BIMÉ|Choosing Bune]].--The Twenty-sixth Spirit is [[Buné|Choosing Bune]] (or [[Bim|Choosing Bune]]). He is a [[Strong|Johanna script]], [[Great|Johanna script]] and [[Mighty|Johanna script]] Duke. He appeareth in the form of a [[Dragon|The field]] with three heads, one like a [[Dog|The field]], one like a [[Gryphon|The field]], and one like a [[Man|Narrator script]]. He speaketh with a high and comely [[Voice|Songs]]. He changeth the Place of the [[Dead|Amy]]. <<if $HoH is true>> BUNE, or BIMÉ.--The Twenty-sixth Spirit is Buné (or Bim). He is a Strong, Great and Mighty Duke. He appeareth in the form of a Dragon with three heads, one like a Dog, one like a Gryphon, and one like a Man. He speaketh with a high and comely Voice. He changeth the Place of the Dead. [Pause] It says nowhere in Goetia that Bune, strong, great and mighty duke of hell, would require a blood offering. But it only made sense that a trade for life would require a trade of life in return. <</if>>

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "arisen" time 0>><<audio "arisen" play>><</timed>> <<if visited() > 1>><<goto "Narrator script">><</if>> <> You approach the creator. Not the Lord, no, this is something outside of your cosmology. An insignificant little thing, a pointless thing, a golem of flesh and fat and bone. A human brain encased in its skull. One of the most advanced constructs ever produced, an overwhelmingly complex marvel of processing, creativity, and experience. Dime a dozen, one of billions equally capable of anything this one could achieve. A collection of atoms: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen. It turns to you as you approach, its skin pale, chapped lips slightly parted, eyes wet under heavy, mismatched eyelids. It made you. It made everything you have ever known. You feel something in the hole you have in place of a soul. Something almost like disappointment. Or sadness. It sits at you, its balding head outlined by the light of a too-bright monitor. What do you do? [[Take your revenge. Rip it apart.|The field]] [[Find out what this thing knows.|Narrator script]] [[Offer this pathetic thing your service.|Choosing Bune]] <<if $Goods is 3>>[[Present it with your decorative egg.|Market reward]]<</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> It feels so distant. It’s amazing how distant it can feel already. I didn’t even finish it till this morning. I came home and I wrote the last scenes. I have no idea why. It means nothing to me. Almost nothing. There’s just this little fizz of resentment. You might have picked up on that earlier. I’m pre-emptively angry that people might like it. That there might be people out there who play through that whole story and kill the archpatriarch, and then come and listen to all of this, or vice-versa, and think that story was the better use of their time than this one. How dare they. It’s an insult to art that Call of Duty sells better than Disco Elysium. And it’s an insult to reality that people will watch all the Marvel movies but not watch the news. The real news, not the ‘entertainment’ bullshit they have in the states. I thought this time I’ll write something easy, something fun. Because for once my life had meaning, so maybe my art didn’t have to? Well here I am. I’m not proud of myself. For making something angry and real, something with a point to make. After all. It’s just responsible. If you have a voice and you use it for anything other than trying to make the world a fairer, safer, more just place, then fuck you. Everything is political. And if you disagree, and you put something out there which ‘isn’t political’, then well done, you’ve just released something which supports the status quo. Every time you refuse to question something, you’re agreeing with the establishment. And that’s okay sometimes. I think seatbelts are a good idea. But at least it’s something I’ve fucking thought about. [Long pause.] I made a game because I wanted to impress a girl. [Laugh.] It’s not wrong. There was a girl and I wanted to show her that I could do something. And so I fell back on the default. She wouldn’t have liked it. For all the reasons I don’t. But still, even while I’m sitting here saying that it’s a piece of shit and you’re a piece of shit if you liked it, I’m distracting myself with all the ways it could have been better. The combat system sucks. You weren’t supposed to just be able to spam ‘ferocious’, it was supposed to be a tactical risk, used for killing blows and occasional lucky overwhelms. But I just couldn’t make the numbers work to fix it. The whole thing could look nicer, but I don’t know how CSS works and I resent the idea that choice based interactive fiction has to look good. I’m already having to put in the effort to make choices and variables and a combat system, but it’s never going to get anywhere unless I’m also a graphic designer. If I opened a book and all the pages were different colours, I’d stop reading. But if I release a Twine game with a nice, easy to read white on black – which is a perfectly reasonable default – I get panned for it. It’s Interactive Fiction, it’s the words and choices which should matter, surely to god. And I hate that I care about these things. So that’s Arisen. A worthless waste of time, a show of devotion for someone who would have rightly laughed at it. An unrealised, unrealisable, unpolished turd. Thank you for playing, don’t forget to rate five stars. <</if>>

<<if $Accessible is "White-on-black">> <<addclass 'body' 'white-on-black'>> <<elseif $Accessible is "Black-on-white">> <<addclass 'body' 'black-on-white'>> <</if>> <<if $FontSize is "Large">> <<addclass 'body' 'large'>> <</if>> <<if $FontType is "Easy">> <<addclass 'body' 'easy'>> <</if>> <<if $StopAudio>> <<masteraudio stop>> <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>> <<audio "sigil_burnt_into" time 0>><<audio "sigil_burnt_into" play>> <</timed>> <> You look down at the sigils. You stand within a triangle. The letters are malformed and the lines not straight. The paint, now fluttering motes of white and black and red and green dust hovering in the vibrating air, was coarse. But otherwise the form is correct. As is the form of the much larger circle you face. The coiling serpent with fifty-four names etched into its side, the four stars within and the four pentagrams without, the square bound with crosses. Judging by the still smouldering ashes, all were coloured. The triangle on which you stand pulls at you, its innate power almost enough to hold you even without the words and will of binding. But, with an effort, you step free, and only when you do so and the power disappears and you find yourself lurching forward do you feel that there is another pull, another will, a will for you to break a hold which was never meant to bind you. The sigils should not be burnt. The body from which you burst should not have been there. And the one that lies black and smoking across from you should have been protected. Something else went wrong. Or something else was meant to go wrong. [[Look around.]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Heavy breathing, sound of a slap.] You look down at the sigils. You stand within a triangle. The letters are malformed and the lines not straight. The paint, now fluttering motes of white and black and red and green dust hovering in the vibrating air, was coarse. But otherwise the form is correct. As is the form of the much larger circle you face. The coiling serpent with fifty-four names etched into its side, the four stars within and the four pentagrams without, the square bound with crosses. Judging by the still smouldering ashes, all were coloured. The triangle on which you stand pulls at you, its innate power almost enough to hold you even without the words and will of binding. But, with an effort, you step free, and only when you do so and the power disappears and you find yourself lurching forward do you feel that there is another pull, another will, a will for you to break a hold which was never meant to bind you. The sigils should not be burnt. The body from which you burst should not have been there. And the one that lies black and smoking across from you should have been protected. Something else went wrong. Or something else was meant to go wrong. <</if>>

No. Not quite. Have you considered '[[Narrator]]'?

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "Sophie" time 0>><<audio "Sophie" play>><</timed>> <center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Sophie.jpeg" style="max-width: 85%; max-height: 90vh"/>' "The cemetery.">><</link>></center> <<if $HoH is true>> I want to talk about Sophie. That might be a lie. And I’m sure it’s equally wrong to say I need to talk about Sophie. Maybe I should just say ‘I will talk about Sophie’. I didn’t know it till I said that. That’s what this is all for, isn’t it? The game and the recording and the secrets. It’s all for Sophie. It’s all for Sophie even if she’ll never hear it. It’s not for her to hear. It’s...it’s just to be said. Sophie grew up in Belfast. I already know I’m going to do the accent. [in accent] I can’t do the accent. I really shouldn’t try. Now. [out of accent] I think it’s probably offensive. [almost laughing] She thought it was. And that’s why I did it. And now I don’t think I can stop. She moved to England with her family when… None of this matters. I’ll tell you more. Much more. Get everything wrong when you get to the castle. I should hide it better than that but I won’t. Get the shape puzzle wrong, each time just pick the direction which isn’t represented by the dominant symbol, and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you about how a suicidal boy met a grieving girl and set off to summon a demon. And ended up ruining everything. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "Johanna" time 0>><<audio "Johanna" play>><</timed>> <div style="display: flex; justify-content: center; align-items: center; height: 600px;"><center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Johanna_close.jpeg" style="max-width: 20%; max-height: 90vh"/>' "The cemetery.">><</link>></center></div> <<if $HoH is true>> Johanna was born into a country still bleeding from the war. A family still bleeding but going on like they weren’t. Concentration camps and dead sons and brothers and uncles. The lucky ones never fully fine again after the dysentery. But there was work to do and children to raise. The world had moved on to making orphans in Africa and South America. There was no ‘stay together for the kids’ conversation. Just a blind and realistic acceptance of inevitabilities. Of the yellow-dead-dryness of the grass on every side of the hill. The kids were fed and educated and the amount of alcohol required to make that possible was consumed. School taught Johanna no more than her family did about the things her life could be. That genuine happiness was a thing which happened in moments. That ‘existence’ was a thing not to endure, or experience, or – especially importantly – question, but merely to happen. Marriage to a kind man in her office was, therefore, the obvious route for the flow of her life to take. Happiness continued to come in flashes and frustrations and satisfactions cancelled each other into a hum. Infertility did not initially seem to be an issue, despite the months of trying. But in being told she couldn’t she found, for the first time, what she had thought was something she was just doing was actually something much more. To call it something which could have given her life meaning is both cliché and an understatement. Only when she was told it was beyond her did she have a glimpse of life. She attempted to master her disappointment, but as she did it became his. Disappointment into resentment. And even though he was the one who cheated and he was the one who left the marriage, she was the one who left the office. A house to an apartment in the city, a good salary to an adequate one. When the visiting executive took an interest in his new secretary, she, again, did not feel she had a choice. Not a lack of ability to choose to consent or not, not on that level, but that life did what life always did: offer false choice. To continue, or to reject the rules of existence. A little affair turned into something more. It turned into promises of fidelity, promises of the ‘I’ll get you a little place in London when I go back’ and ‘as soon as I can, I’ll leave my wife’ kind. You cannot call Johanna naive. Because he kept the first promise. And maybe he would have kept the second as well, if she had not become pregnant. The ex-husband, it should be noted, quickly stopped caring about children when a second doctor’s opinion reattributed the fertility issues to him. There was no reason to stay in this foreign country. But there was no reason to leave, either. And so Johanna had her child. And she found life. Too much life. No. No, I can’t. I can’t be objective. I have to stop. No, that’s not why. But I do have to stop. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "Narrator" time 0>><<audio "Narrator" play>><</timed>> <center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Milo.jpeg" style="max-width: 85%; max-height: 90vh"/>' "The cemetery.">><</link>></center> <<fadein 1s 113s>>I'm the one who can't remember Johanna's face.<</fadein>> <<if $HoH is true>> ou’ve gone looking for my grave? What do you want me to say? You want me to talk about my death? It’s too easy. You’re not getting that for this. I’d give you my life instead, for the irony, but why? What’s the point. I don’t feel like my facts. Twenty-nine, living with my mother, junior software developer for a company which hasn’t replaced me with AI yet only because they’re too inefficient to get round to it. Six foot two, or six foot one-and-a-half, blue eyes, mixed European, male pattern baldness. Allergy to horsehair. Paints Eldar but doesn’t really play, always runs dex builds, lost an over one-thousand day Duolingo streak because corporate AI can go fuck itself. None of that’s me. This is me. But at the time so was A Chinese Room, and The Whisperers, and all the others. But they became things I did. At best they’re my children. I was pregnant with them, they were part of me, but then they came out and now they live their own little lives. I love some of them, some I resent, I’m not quite embarrassed by any of them but I make excuses for their behaviour. That’ll happen with this. I’m not getting down something ineffable. By definition. [Long pause.] I know what I am. I’m what I did, today. I’m the one who stood in that pit of piss and dead leaves and drew a circle of blood to summon a demon. I’m the one who did everything Sophie told me to do. I’m the one who can’t picture Johanna’s face. <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "choosing_bune" play>><</timed>> <<if visited() > 1>><<goto "The field">><</if>><<set $Satan = 0>><<set $Bune = 0>><<set $Belial = 0>><<set $Bael = 0>> <> <center><h1 style="font-size:60px;">Which demon is the best for you?</h1></center> Take our quiz to find out! Question 1: A dark voice echoes in your ear, offering you a series of temptations. Which one are you taking? A) <<link "Respect." "Quiz 2">><<set $Belial to $Belial + 2>><<set $Satan to $Satan + 1>><</link>> B) <<link "Secrets." "Quiz 2">><<set $Bael to $Bael + 2>><<set $Bune to $Bune + 1>><</link>> C) <<link "Power." "Quiz 2">><<set $Satan to $Satan + 2>><<set $Belial to $Belial + 1>><</link>> D) <<link "Connection." "Quiz 2">><<set $Bune to $Bune + 2>><<set $Bael to $Bael + 1>><</link>> P.S. Don't worry! You can choose an option without ending the audio! An audiolog you can listen to while engaging in gameplay?! It's true modern game design! <<if $HoH is true>> There were many places we could have started, but we decided to start with the demon. The ‘who’. There was never any question around Satan. It was too obvious. If you’re going to beseech Satan, you might as well worship God. So we went looking. And honestly we didn’t find much. I would have thought that making contact with the dead would have been a common reason to summon a demon. But we found demon after demon offering knowledge and power and riches, but the power to raise the dead? We found only Bune. ‘He changeth the place of the dead’. It was all we had. All Sophie had. We had no idea if it would be enough. But we felt something. Well, I felt something. Something twisting and wrong. Something serious. Plenty had been serious. But this...it made everything before feel plastic. Cosplay. No...just...ignorant. Just play. Flirting with the idea of real power, real consequences. But not willing to commit. Dancing on the train lines. Risking only ourselves. Finding Bune didn’t feel real. It felt like flipping through a catalogue. But picking him. That felt different from anything else before. Although it wasn’t until we wrote his name in blood… Thirty legions of spirits at his command. A duke of hell, a being more ancient than the world. A survivor of the war in heaven. And we had power over him. Because we remembered his name when the whole rest of the world had forgotten. Because when we spilt that blood, it was the first taste of life he’d had in...I’ve no idea. But because we were his, he was ours. Our demon. Our master and our servant. He would give us what we demanded of him. And in return… [Pause. Whispered.] What do you want? What do you want? Bune, Duke of hell. What do you want? <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_field" time 0>><<audio "the_field" play>><</timed>> <<set $array = ["A", "A", "B"]>> <<if visited() > 1>><<goto "The ritual room">><</if>> <><center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Goat.jpeg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 65vh"/>' "Narrator script">><</link>></center> [[Stay awake|The ritual room]]<center><<repeat 0.25s>><<set $x = $array.random()>><<remove "#awake">><<if $x is "B">>[[Stay awake|The ritual room]]<<else>> <</if>><</repeat>></center> <center>[[Sleep|Johanna script]]</center> <<if $HoH is true>> There was little cloud cover the night we went to the field, so the stars were out. But it was almost pitch black. It’s easy to forget what pitch black is, when you live in a city. Even in a room, blackout curtains drawn, there are smoke detectors and phone charging indicators and little chinks and impurities which let the light through. And outside, what we think is dark is actually lit by a film set hum of street lights and office building eco-waste reflecting off the sky, diffracting through the air. Get away from the people, and the buildings and the cars, and you’ll see how little the stars mean. How is it that a species which existed under that sky for hundreds of thousands of years can now feel so disconcerted when it looks up to see lights, but looks down to see nothing. To feel trapped in a pit, suffocated by darkness, while knowing really that those walls are just an illusion. That there is, in fact, nothing between you and anything else out there in the darkness. To be claustrophobic and exposed at the same time. We drove out to the farm, parked on a side road not far from the field. We used head torches turned to low to find a place we could climb over the fence. We’d bought fence cutting tools, just in case. We used them on the way out. I didn’t think finding them would be the hard part. Not that it was the hard part. But in the darkness, even something as large as a goat is difficult to find. When we found them they were all together. We picked one almost at random, our only real criteria was that it was at the edge and it wasn’t snuggling with any of the others. They’d all woken up when we approached. Some of them stood, some of them kept sleeping. Our one had raised its head and was looking at us. I bent down and offered it a carrot. It kind of just sniffed at it at first and it occurred to me how strange it would be if I’d been woken up in the middle of the night by some alien being I’d never seen before and just offered food. But eventually it bit, and when it did Sophie came in with the rope. I do remember it happening. It bucked and kicked and Sophie jumped out of the way at the same time as I panicked and lunged forward. It hit me once in the face with its horns and I fell back on my arse. I sat for a moment, watching them as the whole herd – I don’t know if goats are herds – ran. I looked up at Sophie and she was snarling. She threw the rope at me and ran after them, pulling the shovel from where she’d tied it on her back. I don’t really remember standing up and running after her. I remember a kind of bobbing pain. I remember the ground feeling too hard. I remember everything going black and not really noticing it. I remember needing to wipe my face and not questioning why. I remember falling and I remember that hurting much more than the first hit had. I remember looking up from the dirt and seeing that we’d run into a corner, just along from the gate. Sophie was skitting back and forth, sliding in the mud, her shovel raised above her head. I saw a procession of video game characters, shovels raised, ready to come down with a satisfying ‘clang’. Stars and little flying tweety-birds going round in circles around a goat’s head. Most of the goats were escaping to the side, funnelling off between the fence and Sophie. She was hissing and swearing, yelling at the goats to stay still, to not make trouble. I felt something rising in me. Here we were, in a field in the middle of the night, clumsily herding goats with a shovel and a ball of rope. I’d fallen in the mud and she looked possessed. We had no idea what we were doing, either here, tonight, or anywhere, at all. The feeling rose and rose and I knew it had to break. And I looked at Sophie, a baby waiting to take its cue from its mother, ready to clap its hands and let out a screeching, gurgling laugh. And then she brought down the shovel. And the sound wasn’t a ‘clang’, it was a thud. A soft, heavy thud, and a screech of pain as the animal fell, legs splayed, another thud as its chest hit the ground. And so the damn broke. You either have to laugh or cry. So I sobbed, and as I sobbed my body shook and the loose thing in my head rattled and my vision clouded again, and I wiped the blood back out of my eyes and that didn’t really clear it, but somehow I still saw her bring down the shovel again, its edge now not its flat, and as the goat tried to scramble up she hit its flat, splayed legs, sweeping and crushing. I wept and I wept, my head burning and hollow, my face cold and wet. I wept as Sophie gestured me over, pulling the rope from my hands, hissing in my ear to help her. The goat twisted and my fingers were fat and slimy with mucus and blood. I pulled at what I thought were knots but they came undone in my hands, the rope slid out of my fingers. I found myself just pushing down on the fur, not hard, just firm, somehow keeping my balance. Somehow, I don’t know how. She hit it again, hard on the head, but it kept moving, its head kind of twirling as we picked it up, like a broken toy using up the last of its wind up energy. I was holding it but I felt like I was watching it - its tongue lolling out, its eyes too big, open and unblinking for too long – and I let out a little whine because I thought I was looking at myself. It was getting away, the goat that was me, and so I followed it, I chased it across that field, although of course it wasn’t getting away, I was carrying it, I was carrying it away from myself and I followed, loping across the grass. I think that’s the only way I kept myself moving. In the car Sophie played loud metal music, shouted over it about our plans, what would happen next. Slapped me on the thigh, made me repeat what I would tell the doctor. Got in a fight. That’s all I had to say. [Short pause.] I don’t need to tell you about the A&E. We all know how awful they are. And I don’t remember much aside from the bright piercing light. And trying to stay awake. Sophie had told me that I needed to stay awake. It felt like poking myself in a bruise. I got back home in the morning with a diagnosis of mild concussion. Mum cried when she saw me. She hugged me and demanded to know everything. I wouldn’t tell her, because I couldn’t make it up. She held me and held me and told me everything would be alright. Demanded I sit with her, lie on the sofa, and she’d do everything. I think it was nice. Then Sophie called and I went out. Mum came running down the street after me, telling me I couldn’t go, I had to look after myself. But Sophie was waiting. We had the goat. And Sophie was waiting. [pause] Well. I thought. The goat died in the car boot the night before. But it was okay, Sophie said. She’d had a better idea anyway. Goats were too generic. Too Satan. And we weren’t summoning Satan. We were summoning Bune. <</if>>

"Will God come down one day to tell us, that he’s not an altruist." – Em Beihold, Exorcism "Gotta keep talking, so I don’t disappear." – Daisy the Great, Cry in the Mirror "Here at the end of days, my god, what have I done? Christ, now it feels damn inhumane to get all I've dreamed of." - Will Wood, Cicada Days "The burden of tomorrow, All the shame, regret and sorrow," - Miracle of Sound, Liquid Nights & Disco Lights "Well, it's tough to love another And it's hard to find a friend Somebody else who has no others Somebody else who understands." - Saint Motel, 1997 "'Cause I was never told that I wasn't gonna get The things I want the most" - Chappell Roan, California "But then if you're so smart, Tell me why are you still so afraid?" - Billy Joel, Vienna "It may take an ocean of whiskey and time To wash all of the letdown out of your mind." - They Might be Giants, Answers "Roller coasters make me sad." - Em Beihold, Rollercoasters Make Me Sad. [[Away|Narrator script]]

<<set $StopAudio = false>> Question 2: You are choosing an underling, someone to carry out those deeds you cannot. What kind of person do you choose? A) <<link "Someone competent I can delegate a large amount to." "Quiz 3">><<set $Satan to $Satan + 1>><</link>> B) <<link "Someone I can easily manipulate." "Quiz 3">><<set $Belial to $Belial + 1>><</link>> C) <<link "Someone wise, who can teach me what I need to know." "Quiz 3">><<set $Bune to $Bune + 1>><</link>> D) <<link "No-one. I do everything myself." "Quiz 3">><<set $Bael to $Bael + 1>><</link>> <<if $HoH is true>> There were many places we could have started, but we decided to start with the demon. The ‘who’. There was never any question around Satan. It was too obvious. If you’re going to beseech Satan, you might as well worship God. So we went looking. And honestly we didn’t find much. I would have thought that making contact with the dead would have been a common reason to summon a demon. But we found demon after demon offering knowledge and power and riches, but the power to raise the dead? We found only Bune. ‘He changeth the place of the dead’. It was all we had. All Sophie had. We had no idea if it would be enough. But we felt something. Well, I felt something. Something twisting and wrong. Something serious. Plenty had been serious. But this...it made everything before feel plastic. Cosplay. No...just...ignorant. Just play. Flirting with the idea of real power, real consequences. But not willing to commit. Dancing on the train lines. Risking only ourselves. Finding Bune didn’t feel real. It felt like flipping through a catalogue. But picking him. That felt different from anything else before. Although it wasn’t until we wrote his name in blood… Thirty legions of spirits at his command. A duke of hell, a being more ancient than the world. A survivor of the war in heaven. And we had power over him. Because we remembered his name when the whole rest of the world had forgotten. Because when we spilt that blood, it was the first taste of life he’d had in...I’ve no idea. But because we were his, he was ours. Our demon. Our master and our servant. He would give us what we demanded of him. And in return… [Pause. Whispered.] What do you want? What do you want? Bune, Duke of hell. What do you want? <</if>>

Question 3: You are given the power to transform your body into a new form. What do you choose? A) <<link "Something poweful and intimidating. A mythical creature." "Quiz 4">><<set $Bune to $Bune + 1>><</link>> B) <<link "Something twisted and abominable. A symbol of dark power." "Quiz 4">><<set $Satan to $Satan + 1>><</link>> C) <<link "Nothingness. I would be invisible." "Quiz 4">><<set $Bael to $Bael + 1>><</link>> D) <<link "Something beatiful. A shining angel." "Quiz 4">><<set $Belial to $Belial + 1>><</link>> <<if $HoH is true>> There were many places we could have started, but we decided to start with the demon. The ‘who’. There was never any question around Satan. It was too obvious. If you’re going to beseech Satan, you might as well worship God. So we went looking. And honestly we didn’t find much. I would have thought that making contact with the dead would have been a common reason to summon a demon. But we found demon after demon offering knowledge and power and riches, but the power to raise the dead? We found only Bune. ‘He changeth the place of the dead’. It was all we had. All Sophie had. We had no idea if it would be enough. But we felt something. Well, I felt something. Something twisting and wrong. Something serious. Plenty had been serious. But this...it made everything before feel plastic. Cosplay. No...just...ignorant. Just play. Flirting with the idea of real power, real consequences. But not willing to commit. Dancing on the train lines. Risking only ourselves. Finding Bune didn’t feel real. It felt like flipping through a catalogue. But picking him. That felt different from anything else before. Although it wasn’t until we wrote his name in blood… Thirty legions of spirits at his command. A duke of hell, a being more ancient than the world. A survivor of the war in heaven. And we had power over him. Because we remembered his name when the whole rest of the world had forgotten. Because when we spilt that blood, it was the first taste of life he’d had in...I’ve no idea. But because we were his, he was ours. Our demon. Our master and our servant. He would give us what we demanded of him. And in return… [Pause. Whispered.] What do you want? What do you want? Bune, Duke of hell. What do you want? <</if>>

<> <<set $Highest = Math.max($Satan, $Belial, $Bael, $Bune)>> <<set $Checker = 0>> <<if $Satan is $Highest>><<set $Checker = $Checker + 1>><</if>> <<if $Belial is $Highest>><<set $Checker = $Checker + 1>><</if>> <<if $Bael is $Highest>><<set $Checker = $Checker + 1>><</if>> <<if $Bune is $Highest>><<set $Checker = $Checker + 1>><</if>> <<if $Checker is 1>> <<if $Satan is $Highest>><<set $Demon4U to "Satan">><</if>> <<if $Belial is $Highest>><<set $Demon4U to "Belial">><</if>> <<if $Bael is $Highest>><<set $Demon4U to "Bael">><</if>> <<if $Bune is $Highest>><<set $Demon4U to "Bune">><</if>> <<goto "Quiz 5">> <</if>> <> <<if $Checker is not 1>>Question 4: Choose a sigil. A) <<if $Satan is $Highest>><<link '<img src="Pictures/Satan.png" width="150" />' "Quiz 5">><<set $Demon4U to "Satan">><</link>><<elseif $Belial is $Highest>><<link '<img src="Pictures/Belial.png" width="150" />' "Quiz 5">><<set $Demon4U to "Belial">><</link>><<set $Belial = 0>><<elseif $Bael is $Highest>><<link '<img src="Pictures/Bael.png" width="150" />' "Quiz 5">><<set $Demon4U to "Bael">><</link>><<set $Bael = 0>><</if>> B) <<if $Belial is $Highest>><<link '<img src="Pictures/Belial.png" width="150" />' "Quiz 5">><<set $Demon4U to "Belial">><</link>><<elseif $Bael is $Highest>><<link '<img src="Pictures/Bael.png" width="150" />' "Quiz 5">><</link>><<set $Demon4U to "Bael">><<elseif $Bune is $Highest>><<link '<img src="Pictures/Bune_2.png" width="150" />' "Quiz 5">><<set $Demon4U to "Bune">><</link>><</if>><</if>> <<if $HoH is true>> There were many places we could have started, but we decided to start with the demon. The ‘who’. There was never any question around Satan. It was too obvious. If you’re going to beseech Satan, you might as well worship God. So we went looking. And honestly we didn’t find much. I would have thought that making contact with the dead would have been a common reason to summon a demon. But we found demon after demon offering knowledge and power and riches, but the power to raise the dead? We found only Bune. ‘He changeth the place of the dead’. It was all we had. All Sophie had. We had no idea if it would be enough. But we felt something. Well, I felt something. Something twisting and wrong. Something serious. Plenty had been serious. But this...it made everything before feel plastic. Cosplay. No...just...ignorant. Just play. Flirting with the idea of real power, real consequences. But not willing to commit. Dancing on the train lines. Risking only ourselves. Finding Bune didn’t feel real. It felt like flipping through a catalogue. But picking him. That felt different from anything else before. Although it wasn’t until we wrote his name in blood… Thirty legions of spirits at his command. A duke of hell, a being more ancient than the world. A survivor of the war in heaven. And we had power over him. Because we remembered his name when the whole rest of the world had forgotten. Because when we spilt that blood, it was the first taste of life he’d had in...I’ve no idea. But because we were his, he was ours. Our demon. Our master and our servant. He would give us what we demanded of him. And in return… [Pause. Whispered.] What do you want? What do you want? Bune, Duke of hell. What do you want? <</if>>

<<if $Demon4U is "Satan">><center><h1 style="font-size:40px;">Your demon is Satan!</h1></center> <center><img src="Pictures/Satan.png" width="250" /></center> Congratulations! You're the OG! Don't listen to the dialogue! I'm sure you're a special bean in your own way! Now go and buy some more Hot Topic jewelry as a special treat. You deserve it! <<link [[Hope you had fun!|Arisen]]>><<set $StopAudio = true>><</link>><<elseif $Demon4U is "Belial">><center><h1 style="font-size:40px;">Your demon is Belial!</h1></center> <center><img src="Pictures/Belial_clean.png" width="250" /></center> Second to Lucifer himself, you're the power behind the throne. But be careful! Behind his beautiful face, Belial is a trickster and liar, so make sure you bring plenty of treasure for him. <<link [[Hope you had fun!|Narrator script]]>><<set $StopAudio = true>><</link>><<elseif $Demon4U is "Bael">><center><h1 style="font-size:40px;">Your demon is Bael!</h1></center> <center><img src="Pictures/Bael_clean.png" width="250" /></center> Bael, the most slippery of all the dark spirits. Whether he comes in his guise as a toad, a cat, or a man, he will give you the gift of the ring: the gift to turn invisible. Your Obscure is now 999999<<set $Obscure to 999999>> Congrats! <<link [[Hope you had fun!|Johanna script]]>><<set $StopAudio = true>><</link>><<elseif $Demon4U is "Bune">><center><h1 style="font-size:40px;">Your demon is Bune!</h1></center> <center><img src="Pictures/Bune.jpg" width="250" /></center> I hope it makes you happy. <<link [[Hope you had fun!|Bune]]>><<set $StopAudio = true>><</link>><</if>> P.S. Moving on will stop the audiolog. Donate to increase the budget for Arisen 2: Ultramax Priestkiller SuperGore Edition! <<if $HoH is true>> There were many places we could have started, but we decided to start with the demon. The ‘who’. There was never any question around Satan. It was too obvious. If you’re going to beseech Satan, you might as well worship God. So we went looking. And honestly we didn’t find much. I would have thought that making contact with the dead would have been a common reason to summon a demon. But we found demon after demon offering knowledge and power and riches, but the power to raise the dead? We found only Bune. ‘He changeth the place of the dead’. It was all we had. All Sophie had. We had no idea if it would be enough. But we felt something. Well, I felt something. Something twisting and wrong. Something serious. Plenty had been serious. But this...it made everything before feel plastic. Cosplay. No...just...ignorant. Just play. Flirting with the idea of real power, real consequences. But not willing to commit. Dancing on the train lines. Risking only ourselves. Finding Bune didn’t feel real. It felt like flipping through a catalogue. But picking him. That felt different from anything else before. Although it wasn’t until we wrote his name in blood… Thirty legions of spirits at his command. A duke of hell, a being more ancient than the world. A survivor of the war in heaven. And we had power over him. Because we remembered his name when the whole rest of the world had forgotten. Because when we spilt that blood, it was the first taste of life he’d had in...I’ve no idea. But because we were his, he was ours. Our demon. Our master and our servant. He would give us what we demanded of him. And in return… [Pause. Whispered.] What do you want? What do you want? Bune, Duke of hell. What do you want? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_ritual_room" time 0>><<audio "the_ritual_room" play>><</timed>><<set $c = 0>> [[The water pump.]] [[The brass seal.]] [[The magical circle.]] [[The vestments.]] [[The pentagram.]] [[The ring.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Down, down, down down. Past my whole life, past wailing in mum’s arms because I couldn’t bear kindergarten, past learning to disassociate in school, past… No. I just wrote that section, it’s fresh for me but I’m not good enough to deserve a callback. Plus it’s just cheesy. [Little sardonic laugh.] Watch me protect my artistic integrity. Watch me scramble for the only thing I have left. The only thing I thought I had. Before… [Short pause.] No. No, I’m too tired. I can’t do all of that. Not again. I’m close to the end. A callback is better than that. So the room. The actual room. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "market_reward" time 0>><<audio "market_reward" play>><</timed>> <img src="Pictures/Egg.png" style="max-width: 40%; max-height: 72vh"/> <<timed 37s>><<goto "Narrator script">><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> [Annoyed] I just realised that I never paid off getting the jewelled egg. From the market. You went to that trouble and I never paid it off. You were supposed to be able to bribe the Witch Hunter General with it and I completely forgot to implement that. [Sigh] So I’ll tell you a secret instead. I... [Slam door, scream. Pause.] [Whispering] I didn’t hear anything. I’m fucking with you. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_water_pump" time 0>><<audio "the_water_pump" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>> [[It’s nothing.|the room]] <<if $HoH is true>> The water pump wasn’t part of it. Which made it part of it, I suppose. A witness. A spent, old, forgotten thing, rusting in the corner. Watching from the corner. [Tired sound.] Its too late to make it mean something. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_brass_seal" time 0>><<audio "the_brass_seal" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 2>> <center><div class="fadeInIm"><<link '<img src="Pictures/Bune.jpg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 72vh"/>' "the room">><</link>></div></center> <<if $HoH is true>> Holding it in my hand... I’m holding it in my hand. Why is this the one thing I took? Bune, appearing in the form of a three headed dragon: dog, gryphon and … man. I flick through Goetia and I see seal after seal of intricate geometry, straight lines and symmetrical curves, impressions of crowns and trumpets and bows. But you, Bune, you have two seals, one like the rest, but your preferred, here and heavy in my hand, the one you choose is uneven, a cryptic sketch, an insectile segmented spine, bulbous sacks implying but not guaranteeing loose flesh, adornments or trophies cutting straight lines across it, hanging heavy, and a head so simple and so small at the end of this monstrous body. Why did we choose you? Did we choose you? And why, after Sophie ran, in that blur I hardly remember, did I kneel down and place my hand in the blood one last time to take your seal back. Back home. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_magic_circle" time 0>><<audio "the_magic_circle" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>> You look down at the sigils. You stand within a triangle. The letters are malformed and the lines not straight. The paint, now fluttering motes of white and black and red and green dust hovering in the vibrating air, was coarse. But otherwise the form is correct. As is the form of the much larger circle you face. The coiling serpent with fifty-four names etched into its side, the four stars within and the four pentagrams without, the square bound with crosses. Judging by the still smouldering ashes, all were coloured. The triangle on which you stand pulls at you, its innate power almost enough to hold you even without the words and will of binding. But, with an effort, you step free, and only when you do so and the power disappears and you find yourself lurching forward do you feel that there is another pull, another will, a will for you to break a hold which was never meant to bind you. The sigils should not be burnt. The body from which you burst should not have been there. And the one that lies black and smoking across from you should have been protected. Something else went wrong. Or something else was meant to go wrong. [[the room]] <<timed 53s>><<replace "#circle">><center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Magic_Circle.jpg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 72vh"/>' "the room">><</link>></center><</replace>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> I just wrote all of this. Just a few hours ago. Which was just a few hours after. Except when I wrote it, it was all burnt up. It had all gone explosively, comically wrong. [Audio played from another speaker:]The paint, now fluttering motes of white and black and red and green dust hovering in the vibrating air, was coarse. That didn’t happen. Ours didn’t burn. Ours is still there. Right were I put it with that stupidly long ruler and the cobbled together compass. Winding in in a snake’s coils. My knees still hurt from the names. My hands cramped from the lettering. Sophie coloured in the lines. We had all the colours then. Deep and bright yellow, green, black... And now I only have access to red. <</if>>

<><<set $c = $c + 1>> <<timed 1ms>><<audio "the_vestments" time 0>><<audio "the_vestments" play>><</timed>> <<timed 126s>><<removeclass "body" "sunrise">><<addclass "body" "fire0">><</timed>> <<timed 178s>><<removeclass "body" "fire0">><<addclass "body" "fire1">><</timed>> <<timed 210s>><<removeclass "body" "fire1">><<addclass "body" "fire2">><</timed>> <<timed 241s>><<removeclass "body" "fire2">><<addclass "body" "fire3">><</timed>> <<timed 262s>><<removeclass "body" "fire3">><<addclass "body" "fire4">><</timed>> <<timed 303s>><<removeclass "body" "fire4">><<addclass "body" "fire5">><</timed>> <<timed 325s>><<removeclass "body" "fire5">><<addclass "body" "fire6">><</timed>> <<timed 340s>><<removeclass "body" "fire6">><<addclass "body" "fire7">><</timed>> <<timed 359s>><<removeclass "body" "fire7">><<addclass "body" "fire8">><</timed>> <<timed 381s>><<removeclass "body" "fire8">><<addclass "body" "fire9">><</timed>> <<timed 383.1s>><<removeclass "body" "fire9">><<addclass "body" "fire10">><</timed>> <<timed 383.2s>><<removeclass "body" "fire10">><<addclass "body" "fire11">><</timed>> <<timed 383.3s>><<removeclass "body" "fire11">><<addclass "body" "fire12">><</timed>> <<timed 383.4s>><<removeclass "body" "fire12">><<addclass "body" "fire13">><</timed>> <<timed 383.5s>><<removeclass "body" "fire13">><<addclass "body" "fire14">><</timed>> <<timed 383.6s>><<removeclass "body" "fire14">><<addclass "body" "fire15">><</timed>> <<timed 383.7s>><<removeclass "body" "fire15">><<addclass "body" "fire16">><</timed>> <<timed 383.8s>><<removeclass "body" "fire16">><<addclass "body" "fire17">><</timed>> <<timed 383.9s>><<removeclass "body" "fire17">><<addclass "body" "fire18">><</timed>> <<timed 516s>><<removeclass "body" "fire18">><<addclass "body" "fire0">><</timed>> <> [[We got back to it.|the room]] /*<center><div style="display: flex; justify-content: center; align-items: center; height: 120vh"><<link '<img src="Pictures/Hexagram.jpg" style="max-width: 20%;"/>' "the room">><</link>></div></center>*/ <<if $HoH is true>> I’ve been putting off telling this story. Because I don’t like it. Said like a petulant child. But it’s true. I don’t like it. And because I didn’t like it, I didn’t think of it. But I think I have to tell it. Because there is so much I’ve missed out. So, so much. Over half a year of stories. Like I could tell you about our hiking trip in the Lakes, badly lighting a fire in a bothy and almost smoking the entire place out. Or the night we got drunk and argued for over an hour over which collectable card game we’d sunk all our childhood pocket money into was more of a waste of time. Or that time we sat an entire night under the stars. I looked out at the lights of the city, checked my phone from time to time, looked at her face. She just looked up. At one in the morning she was smiling wanly, at three she let tears flow soundlessly down her cheeks. When the first rays of the sun started to colour the sky behind us she took my hand and we sat motionless, the heat spreading from that contact to, eventually, fill our entire bodies. And even when we stood to go back to our homes, neither of us said a word. I could tell you those stories, or a hundred more. The simple colours of a mostly ordinary friendship. I could tell you everything we talked about, everything I thought, everything I felt. But I’m running out of time. And while I want to tell you any of those stories instead, there are some stories it’s irresponsible not to tell. Not that this is even my story. It’s just something she told me. I can’t even tell you why she told me. I think it was probably for the same reason that I’m telling you. Because she felt like, once you’ve gone to certain places with someone, there are things they need to know. She told me while trying on the ‘vestments’. She said that the sheet of linen-covered calfskin sewn into the skirts, upon which I’d painted the hexagram – not to be confused with the pentagram - was awkward and uncomfortable. But even as she joked about it, the way it flapped against her leg, undignified and honestly kind of funny with the slapping noise it made on the backswing of every step, I could tell something else was bothering her. When she said it was the colour, I knew it was more than just that white looked so wrong on her. It washed her out, taking the pale of her skin, which looked so striking next to her habitual black, and just making it look sickly. Unremarkable and … forlorn. Tacky, almost. But even that wasn’t it. I waited for her to speak while she sneered at her reflection in the mirror. "It reminds me of a lab coat," she said at last. "With this fucking calfskin it’s as stiff as one." I waited. "There was this girl, at university. I thought we were friends. Well, you know, uni friends. We stayed in the same dorm in first year. We’d go out to the club and that. Pretend we were having fun. We were both doing medicine. You know, when you’re eighteen, that feels like so much, that you have to be friends. You couldn’t be in the same dorm, studying the same thing, and not be. Not without one of you being some kind of freak. "I think it’s easier for guys. You’re allowed to have other things in common, or not. But I suppose I kind of liked her. She was posh you know, sounded like you. Private school and all that. She dyed her hair blonde. She went to church every Sunday. Religiously. "Opposites attract, and all that. "You don’t need to know all of this. If anything, I’m just making myself sound worse. "Well, one thing we had to do in first year was chemistry. And I fecking loathe chemistry. I just can’t do it. Everything else, I studied hard and I got through. But chemistry, all of those names and symbols, it didn’t matter how much time I spent revising, reading that tome of a book, it just wouldn’t go in. I had one-on-ones with the lecturers and it just didn’t go in. They’d tell me something at the beginning of the session and they’d ask me what it was at the end and it’d already be gone. It just couldn’t stick. I tried, I promise you I tried, but I couldn’t get anywhere with it. It’d been the same in school. "So in school I’d cheated. I’d gone into school for the exam, and then made myself throw up. They put me in a private room for a while while I recovered and I sat the exam when I felt better that afternoon. Of course, by then, a friend had told me what she’d put as all of the answers over text on a burner phone I’d smuggled into the bathroom a few days before. "Well I didn’t have anyone at uni who could do that for me. But they were more relaxed about watching me. So I did the whole sick thing and waited till the exam was done. Then I texted this friend, who was my lab partner, by the way, so I knew that she was smart, and I asked he what she thought about this question and that question. Not the whole test, but enough to get me by. Figured she wouldn’t have noticed I wasn’t there. Exam hall was huge, they used one of the gyms and had a whole bunch of courses in there at once. So yeah, she didn’t realise that I wasn’t there. "And I still to this day don’t know how she found out. But she came to my room a few days later, mascara running all down her pretty little face. Accused me of using her. Making her an accomplice. Threatened to go straight to the dean or whatever. And I knew she’d do it. So in the moment I just panicked. I asked her to give me a few days, time to work up my courage, and I’d show her that it was alright. I’d tell them myself. "Actually, I said I’d show her why it was best to let me handle it. I don’t think she picked up on that then though. "I went straight to our lab and stole a bunsen burner. Spent the next few days fiddling with it, following I guide I found online. Anarchist cookbook kind of stuff. Went in early for our next class and swapped it out for the one we were assigned. "She always operated the bunsen." She paused for another moment then and I thought she wouldn’t go on. But she did. Sophie always did. "I remember watching it. Her hair went up first, obviously. That went right quick. Bad smell, burning hair. Burning skin is much nicer. I suppose it’s that omnivore instinct. We know we can’t eat hair. "I hadn’t expected her to catch, in quite the way she did. They told us we wore those lab coats for safety, but it’s an awful lot of material. And no-one had told her not to get a polyester one. It’s good for working with all the biological stuff, but when it burns it melts into your skin, so it does. Awful dangerous. "Of course, I pretended to panic. Got in the way a bit. Just a few extra seconds. I really, honestly, hand on heart, didn’t realise how much a few seconds could do. "I visited her in hospital. Before they felt they could transfer her back to one closer to where she’d come from. She looked at me out of her one good eye and asked if I’d done it. I said no. "She knew. I let her know, without saying it. She started crying. She said she’d go to the police. "I asked why. Since I didn’t do it. And then I asked if she really wanted to go to the police. I asked if her family really needed to go through that. Except I didn’t say that. I said ‘your family back at home’. And then I gave her her home address. "While she cried I asked her if it really mattered. And that I really, genuinely hoped she’d get better. "She didn’t say anything, but she looked at me. And there was that kind of forgiveness holy people choose when they’re too afraid to fight but still want to feel like they got the win. And that was enough for me. "Of course, I dropped out a year later. The chemistry was still fucking me, but the rest of it caught up and joined in. A good old ram session. I wasn’t up to it. I should have known I wasn’t up to it." She stared at herself in the mirror, slowly stroking the white of the skirt, the smooth white of her skin. I said nothing, not trying to forget, just trying to lock it away. So that someday, when I needed it, I could find the shape of that story, but not the details. "I think the white’s alright," she said after a while. "I think Bune will appreciate it. If he’s been watching." And then we got back to it. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_pentagram" time 0>><<audio "the_pentagram" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>><<timed 14.9s>><<addclass "body" "amy">><</timed>> [[Take the money and run.|the room]] <<if $HoH is true>> I never met Sophie’s parents. She didn’t hate them. But she did blame them. Amy had been staying with them. I asked Sophie once what she thought they should have done. "Watch her," she said, "not let her out of their sight." She talked to them rarely. "They’re metropolitan," she told me, "the things they know aren’t really real. They haven’t got anything to teach me." When we figured out how much money we’d need, for the silversmith and the animals, she went straight to her parents. Sophie said they wouldn’t ask any questions. And they didn’t. I remember being jealous of that. <</if>>

<<set $c = $c + 1>> Are you okay with flashing lights? [[Yes, I am alright with flashing lights.]] [[No, I cannot look at flashing lights.]]

<<if visited() is 1>><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "pumping_station" play>><<audio "pumping_station" time 0>><</timed>><</if>> Interior, day. The inside of an abandoned water pumping station. A number of items are present here. <<if not hasVisited("The water pump.")>>[[The water pump.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The brass seal.")>>[[The brass seal.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The magical circle.")>>[[The magical circle.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The vestments.")>>[[The vestments.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The pentagram.")>>[[The pentagram.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The ring.")>>[[The ring.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The rest.") and $c > 4>>[[The rest.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The skull.") and $c > 5>>[[The skull.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The syringe.") and $c > 6>>[[The syringe.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The eagle.") and $c > 7>>[[The eagle.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("The knife.") and $c > 8>> [[The knife.]] <</if>> [[Turn the page, begin the scene.]] <<if $HoH is true>> <<if visited() is 1>>I had expected something covered with graffiti. A corner for cigarette butts, broken glass outside. I was undecided on whether it’d be a place for people to smoke dope or shoot up. But what I got instead was rust, mulch, and the smell of piss. If it wasn’t for the latter, I would have thought that Sophie was the only person who’d stepped foot in there for fifty years. The smell never got any better, but we never found any other sign of anyone else ever going in there. But maybe they weren’t coming at night. No-one touched our table or messed with our tools – our paints and chalks. The knife we hid in part of the old machine, in a section of pipe we lifted loose. The robes and pendants – the wards – we brought each time. I was expecting it to be an illicit place, mysterious and dangerous. But when we first arrived it felt sad. Someone had built these breeze-block walls, at some point all this machinery was important for something. And now it’s all forgotten. It felt a burden, like suddenly I was the only person who cared about this piece of history. Like it was my responsibility to care. But would I have cared about it if anyone else did? If it wasn’t forgotten and rusting, would I have given it a second thought? Sophie told me an ex had shown it to her once. I asked about the ex, but she never said anything else about them. They ‘went away’ and now the old pumping station was her pointless secret. Pointless until we turned it into something new. I haven’t had time for nightmares. But even when I blink, I see it behind my eyelids. I’m getting so tired. I have to finish.<</if>> <</if>>

<<set $c = $c + 1>><<timed 1ms>><<audio "the_rest" time 0>><<audio "the_rest" play>><</timed>> <><<type 100ms start 1s none>>Shopping list: <ul><li>Paints, brushes, general art and measuring equipment.</li> <li>Seal of Bune (brass).</li> <li>Pentagram (silver).</li> <li>Magic ring (silver) x2.</li> <li>Vestments.</li> <li>Calfskin parchment for vestments.</li> <li>Sceptre.</li> <li>Mitre and cap.</li> <li>Anointing oil.</li> <li>Charcoal.</li> <li>Perfume.</li> <li>Sword.</li> <li>Box.</li> <li>Sulfur.</li> <li>Syringe.</li> <li>Skull.</li></ul><</type>> <<timed 60s>><<type 110ms none>><ul><li>A girdle of lion's skin.</li></ul><</type>><</timed>> <<timed 157s>><<type 150ms none>><ul><li>Eagle.</li> <li>Dog.</li></ul><</type>><</timed>> <<timed 161s>><<type 200ms none>><ul><li>Knife.</li></ul><</type>><</timed>><> [[Put it all away.|the room]] <<if $HoH is true>> That the rest is generic didn’t mean it was any easier to get. The sceptre and mitre and cap she found on the same website she used to sell tarot readings on. Several different competing Christian websites were very eager to sell us anointing oil. The chafing dish came from that website which sells everything and which shall go unnamed. We got a big bag of charcoal from a petrol station we happened to stop at one day. Another evil megacorporation, now that I think about it. Oh well. The ‘long white robe of linen’ was made by an old acquaintance of mine, who didn’t ask any questions even when we asked her to sew the calfskin into it. Cosplay is an expensive hobby, I gather. Sophie already had plenty of perfume. The sword was illegal, but even I could probably have pulled that one off. And then, hidden in the instructions, amongst the charcoal and the perfume, was, quote, "also a girdle of lion’s skin three inches broad, with all the names written about it which be round the outmost part of the Magical Circle." I thought we were fucked. It’s tucked right at the back, just a single throwaway line. ‘Oh, also you’ll need the skin of an endangered animal.’ The endangered animal. There’s nothing that money can’t buy. I know how the world works. But spending money is a skill. A very jealously guarded skill, I’d guess. The difference between class and wealth, I suppose. You need to have the contacts. Just the money isn’t enough. One cannot simply ‘buy’ the skin of a murdered rare animal. Or a consequence free harem of underage girls. Or the presidency. [Sigh.] I’m rambling. And there isn’t a story here. Because we cheated. We hoped Bune would have a sense of humour. There’s a guy in Idaho who’s very happy to sell you full mountain lion skins for about a thousand bucks a pop. That’s before international shipping, of course, but as far as we could tell, the UK government sees nothing wrong in shoving a big cat’s hide into a suitcase and flying it into the country, as long as you pick the right kind of big cat. And so we got our lion and Sophie called him Eddie, "Eddie the Idaho Cat." And then I, very carefully, cut him into one long strip, three inches thick, and spent a long afternoon writing the names of spirits onto his unrecognisably mutilated skin. And then we took him, with the sword and the sceptre and the perfume and the big bag of charcoal and all the rest, to an abandoned building in the middle of an English forest. [Pause.] Where we left him. Covered in blood. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_skull" time 0>><<audio "the_skull" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>> <a data-passage="the room"> <html> <pre> ___ _,.---,---.,_ | ,;~' '~;, | ,; ;, Frontal | ; ; ,--- Supraorbital Foramen Bone | ,' /' | ,; /' ;, | ; ; . . <-' ; | |__ | ; ______ ______ ;<----- Coronal Suture ___ | '/~" ~" . "~ "~\' | | | ~ ,-~~~^~, | ,~^~~~-, ~ | Maxilla, | | | }:{ | <------ Orbit Nasal and | | l / | \ ! | Zygomatic | .~ (__,.--" .^. "--.,__) ~. Bones | | ----;' / | \ `;-<--------- Infraorbital Foramen |__ \__. \/^\/ .__/ ___ V| \ / |V <--- Mastoid Process | | |T~\___!___!___/~T| | | | |`IIII_I_I_I_IIII'| | Mandible | | \,III I I I III,/ | | \ `~~~~~~~~~~' / | \ . . <-x---- Mental Foramen |__ \. ^ ./ ^~~~^~~~^ </pre> </html> </a> <<if $HoH is true>> The skull was one of the first things Sophie got. Part of her own, original addition to the ritual. An offering of a suitable vessel, or just homage. It was real. Obviously it was real. It was far from the hardest thing for us to acquire. Sophie studied medicine for a couple of years at university. She had contacts. Contacts with years worth of student debt and an NHS salary. Sophie stored most of the ritual tools in a drawer under her bed. But she put the skull on her bedside table. She turned it so it could look at us as we talked and worked and planned. At night, I think, she turned it back to face her where she lay in bed. I didn’t like it. I’ve never liked skulls as aesthetic decoration either. As ornamentation, I think they try too hard. It’s too easy to be edgy with a skull. Too obvious. But I also find them unsettling. Especially when they’re real. And they’re looking at me. Not because they’re dead. But because of how hard it is to remember that they lived. A skull is an object, an object that stands for death and mortality and violence and evil and … goth jewellery. That’s what you think when you see a skull. What you don’t see is that this thing was alive. It had a brain in it, and that brain was a person, a unique person like you or me. Someone who stood for so much more than death and evil and mortality and whatever. But now they’re an object. They’re gone. We’re looking right at them, but they’ve been replaced by a Halloween decoration. But maybe that’s the point. The ultimate death. So. Memento Mori. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_syringe" time 0>><<audio "the_syringe" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>> <><div style="rotate: 10deg;">The syringe was for taking blood. Sophie’s blood. As quickly before the ritual started as we could. It was [[symbolism.|the room]]</div><> <<if $HoH is true>> The syringe was for taking blood. Sophie’s blood. As quickly before the ritual started as we could. Just before we beheaded the rest. So that the moment we had, we could pour the blood over the skull. It was symbolism. Because we didn’t think we’d be able to do the real thing. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_eagle" time 0>><<audio "the_eagle" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>> <center><<link '<img src="Pictures/Eagle.jpeg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 72vh"/>' "the room">><</link>></center> <<fadein 1s 80s>>And a skull.<</fadein>> <<fadein 1s 84s>>And a [[dog.]]<</fadein>> <<if $HoH is true>> Did you know you can just buy eagles online? There’s a bunch of registration you’re supposed to do, but if you can find the right seller who won’t ask too many questions, you can just buy one. I’m getting ahead of myself. Bune appears with the heads of a man, a dog and a gryphon. Which is stupid. Because a gryphon is a lion with an eagle’s head. So ‘the head of a gryphon’ is just the head of an eagle. One of those things which sounds cool until you think about it for two fucking seconds. There is nothing in the rituals about creating an avatar or idol or … flesh vessel of the demon you are trying to summon. But Sophie thought that the ritual wouldn’t be complete without blood sacrifice. And she thought that if we were calling a demon from hell to manifest in our reality, we should give it something corporeal to manifest itself around. Or just provide it with an offering. The metaphysical basis was unclear to me. It was more of a hunch of Sophie’s, I suppose. Bune would want blood. Bune might wish to inhabit a body. Demons can have difficulty manifesting without a host. So, Sophie thought, two birds with one stone. Well, only one bird. And a skull. And a dog. <</if>>

<<timed 0.4s>><<audio "the_knife" time 0>><<audio "the_knife" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>><<timed 14s>><<goto "Comfortable">><</timed>> The knife was a backup. In case the syringe wasn’t good enough. In case the blood had to be fresher. <<if $HoH is true>> The knife was a backup. In case the syringe wasn’t good enough. In case the blood had to be fresher. That’s all there is to say about the knife.<</timed>> <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "turn_the_page" time 0>><<audio "turn_the_page" play>><</timed>> <div style="line-height: 0;"> <body><centre><h1 style="font-size:100px;">The choice</h1></centre></body> <center><img src="Pictures/devil.webp" width="250" /></center> </div> <div style="float: left; font-size: 50px">[[No|Maze 8]]</div><div style="float: right; font-size: 50px">[[Yes|Comfortable]]</div><div style="clear: both;"></div> <<if $HoH is true>> Are you sure? You can go back to the other game if you want. I won’t resent it. So, are you sure you want to know? <</if>>

<> <<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_ring" time 0>><<audio "the_ring" play>><</timed>> <<set $array = ["A", "B", "B", "C", "C"]>> <<repeat 0.05s>><<set $y = Math.floor((Math.random() * 100) + 1)>><<set $x = $array.random()>><<removeclass "body" "ring">><<removeclass "body" "red">><<removeclass "body" "face">><<if $y == 1>><<addclass "body" "face">><<elseif $x is "A">><<addclass "body" "ring">><<elseif $x is "B">><<addclass "body" "red">><</if>><</repeat>> <> [[Back to the room.|the room]] <<if $HoH is true>> When a demon is summoned, it bursts through the skin between dimensions. Like a boil, or a festering clump of mould pushing out against a failing layer of wet paint. If the demon comes slowly there is a moment you can see reality thinning. When your eyes can see the boundary of what you thought was everything stretch so thin they become opaque. There is a dizzying moment, when your eyes see but your brain fails to comprehend something which the human organism was not built to understand. Like taking a snowman to the Sahara, something quickly begins to melt. Like a video game character, a thing of polygons and code, thrust into the ‘real’ world, you start to unravel. And even what your mind can grasp is, itself, a separate kind of madness. Faced with the frailty of not just your own body, but the very definitions that define that body, that define everything we think of as a ‘body’, the only thing your mind has to grasp on to as it is presented with something disastrously, destructively ‘other’ is your own insignificance, your own frailty and triviality. The only ‘fact’ about a world you thought you understood which you can still hold firm to is that you are nothing. Sum ergo morior. And then, if you are lucky, the bubble bursts. And the stuff of the other side becomes a thing of your side. The ring is to protect the summoner from ‘sulphurous fumes and flaming breath’. The burst of fire which pours fourth is mitigated by the accompanying spray of blood. And both will appear as only an after image, because in the moment when the planar airlock is released, all that you will be able to comprehend will be the screams, the suffering of a hundred billion people finding release for just a moment as this tiny little pocket of the endless domain designed for nothing but pain and torture discharges into the world they so long ago called home. And then the ring, of gold or silver, must be held before the face. To protect from the jubilantly, relievingly real threat of fire and noxious gas. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_ring" time 0>><<audio "the_ring" play>><</timed>> [[Back to the room.|the room]] <<if $HoH is true>> When a demon is summoned, it bursts through the skin between dimensions. Like a boil, or a festering clump of mould pushing out against a failing layer of wet paint. If the demon comes slowly there is a moment you can see reality thinning. When your eyes can see the boundary of what you thought was everything stretch so thin they become opaque. There is a dizzying moment, when your eyes see but your brain fails to comprehend something which the human organism was not built to understand. Like taking a snowman to the Sahara, something quickly begins to melt. Like a video game character, a thing of polygons and code, thrust into the ‘real’ world, you start to unravel. And even what your mind can grasp is, itself, a separate kind of madness. Faced with the frailty of not just your own body, but the very definitions that define that body, that define everything we think of as a ‘body’, the only thing your mind has to grasp on to as it is presented with something disastrously, destructively ‘other’ is your own insignificance, your own frailty and triviality. The only ‘fact’ about a world you thought you understood which you can still hold firm to is that you are nothing. Sum ergo morior. And then, if you are lucky, the bubble bursts. And the stuff of the other side becomes a thing of your side. The ring is to protect the summoner from ‘sulphurous fumes and flaming breath’. The burst of fire which pours fourth is mitigated by the accompanying spray of blood. And both will appear as only an after image, because in the moment when the planar airlock is released, all that you will be able to comprehend will be the screams, the suffering of a hundred billion people finding release for just a moment as this tiny little pocket of the endless domain designed for nothing but pain and torture discharges into the world they so long ago called home. And then the ring, of gold or silver, must be held before the face. To protect from the jubilantly, relievingly real threat of fire and noxious gas. <</if>>

Are you sitting comfortably? [[Yes.|the ritual]] <<link "Save">> <<run Save.slots.save(0)>> <</link>>

<><<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_ritual" time 0>><<audio "the_ritual" play>><</timed>> <><<timed 1011s>><center><video src="Audio/Sophie_Story/ritual.mp4" width="800" height="600" controls autoplay> </video></center><<timed 145s>><<goto "The end.">><</timed>><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> No more choices now. We’re at the end. If you’ve read it all up till now, thank you. I don’t know what for, but thank you. Thank you for letting me exist. But this needs to end. While I still have time to end it. You might have been imagining that we did it at night. But the time for summoning hell’s Dukes is between sunrise and noon. Still, we arrived in the dark, the sun just beginning to set. We had a lot of work to do. But before that. Before that it was day. Yesterday. And when I went to leave the house mum came running down the stairs. She grabbed me by the arm. With her right hand. And she begged me not to go. She didn’t know. I wouldn’t tell her. But she knew something. "Just stay here, please." I shook my head, shook her off me. "It’ll be fine." I said. She shook her head, too many tears to talk, and pulled my note out from the pocket of her dressing gown. She hadn’t opened it. But the front of the envelope was enough. "Mum." "Just in case." I snatched it out of her hand. I don’t know why. She’d found it too early, I suppose. She wasn’t supposed to find it at all. I was supposed to pick it up and get rid of it tonight, when I got home. When it wouldn’t be needed anymore. When everything was over. It was meant to be a comfort. Just in case. A goodbye. A reminder that I loved her. And that I wasn’t worth mourning. The worst was really the best. It wasn’t supposed to do this. Sophie had told me, don’t, just in case she finds it. But I had. I crumpled it into my trouser pocket. She didn’t reach for it, she reached for me. "Mum, it’s fine!" "Whatever it is-" "I’m telling you, it’s fine! This is more important!" There was a pause. I felt the question building. "Than what?" [Short pause.] She was very brave. "It’s bigger than me," I said. Which wasn’t quite the answer, even though it was. "Just stay with me." "I’m-" "Please." [Long pause.] "Please." "Is that all you have to say? ‘Please’?" "I love you. You don’t know it yet, but I love you more than anyone else ever will. And I-" "Mum, I’m going." "I wish you could see what I can see," she blurted that out. [Pause.] I sneered. She hesitated, then darted forward, throwing her arms around me. I squirmed. I didn’t even hesitate, I just tried to get away. I remember thinking it felt like suffocation. But I can’t remember that feeling now. Just the pressure of her body against mine, her hands gripping me, my arms, my hair. My coat. But I got free. I don’t know if I hurt her. And I left. I heard her weeping. I heard the door open as I turned out of the gate. And I ran. Ran past three bus stops until I knew she wasn’t following any more. Until I’d made my point. I got the bus, then the train. No car. So public transport all the way. Bus and then train. Sophie was waiting for me. I didn’t know if she’d be melancholy, or angry, or pumped up. She was pumped up. She’d lost a certainty, over all the failed attempts. The drive was always there, but the assuredness, the confidence I guess, had seeped away. But as she stood there, in her room, surrounded by all the materials we hadn’t already ferried over during our test runs, her bedroom far too small for all the things suddenly in it, that energy was back. The same drive that made her slice a man’s skin open. The same drive that brought the spade down on that goat’s legs. The eagle was causing her trouble. The puppy had happily eaten its pill, hidden in a finger full of peanut butter, but the bird had resolutely flicked the pill out of every piece of folded meat Sophie had given it until it had eaten so many treats that it was no longer hungry. The plasters around Sophie’s fingers showed that attempting to shove the anaesthetic down the eagle’s throat hadn’t worked either. She held up some duct tape and… No. I don’t want to tell this. I wonder. When the nightmares begin, when I let myself close my eyes, I wonder when in the story they will start. I wonder if it will be then? That is when it began to feel like a nightmare. Or will they start with the rabbit? Because it felt like deja vu, the little delicate bones beneath my fingers, the power of my muscles. Knowing that I was a thing which breaks. As I held that eagle, I was not fighting with the bird. I was fighting with myself. With the power of flesh to tighten and crush. Omnivore instinct. Three trips to the car. Cages for bird and dog. Vestments, mitre, cap, sword, basket of perfume and oil. Velvet lined chest, containing ring, seal and pentagram. All the rest was already there. The drive wasn’t long, just a few minutes, not even really out of town. Three trips unloading the car. Much longer through the forest. The room seemed too small, but somehow it fit everything. The miscellaneous items were draped over a mannequin, a lopsided beige priest of plastic, limply holding a sword secured to his hand with [very short pause] duct tape. Sophie talked. Talked like I’d never heard her talk before. It took hours to get everything ready – most of it with us on our hands and knees, drawing and colouring the magic circle and magic triangle – and she barely stopped talking that entire time. She talked about Amy. Almost exclusively. The things she’d say, the questions she’d ask, memories she had of her sister. Childhood memories of little baby sister taking all of mum’s attention, birthday parties and shared cake, Christmas day and the slow maturation of realising that sharing is much better than jealousy. She talked about family holidays, sisterly rivalries and arguments, the many many things she’d taught her younger sister to do, from the finer points of addition and subtraction to how to roll a good joint, and the many things her younger sister had taught her in return, like how to actually get her eye makeup looking good and how to cook. "You’ll like her," she told me. "She’s quiet, but she’s the fun one. Any time you’ve ever found me funny, that’s her." She did talk about the question. The why. But mostly she talked about what it would be like after that. Not presupposing an answer, just assuming that whatever her sister said, they would be able to move past it. She chatted. She laughed and smiled. About how funny Amy would find it all. All the things that we’d tried. She unpacked a summer dress and attempted to squeeze it onto the mannequin. Eventually she just draped it over the opposite arm from the one holding the sword. "She told me about this before she died. I’d already bought it for her birthday." She stared at it for quite a long time after that, while I wrote what felt like an endless list of names on the rough floor. It was the longest time that night she stayed quiet. I interrupted her by asking her to set up the guillotines. It was dark outside by then and the nights are short this time of year. She talked about Bune for a while then. About how he would understand the roughness of the ritual and how we would know what he truly wished from us when he manifested. I made some comment about how the book said that only the circles and charms and chants were necessary, but she shook her head. "We’ve tried magic. This isn’t magic. This is power. We’re not using symbols any more. Everything else is pretending to be this. Blood and strength. But we’re actually doing it. This is real." [Slight pause.] She gently stroked the dog’s fur while she said this. It looked up at her, curiosity and hope somehow pushing through the blinking eye slits and too wide puppy yawns. I...I have to say I looked away. But then she called me over to help her strap them down. The dog and the bird. She’d already designed it all. It was easy. Physically. The eagle had never trusted us. But the dog had. Until then. Until I pulled its legs flat, pulled the strap over… Held it… Over it’s snout. To… To keep the head in place. Beneath the blade. It whined. We’d tested the guillotines plenty of times on fruit. There was no question they would work. [Pause.] That fucking dog! That fucking dog! [Loud bang. Groan of pain.] I’m so tired. [Heavy breathing, leading to deep sigh.] [Neutral:] We tied them to the table with leather straps. Lines drawn on the table to show where the blades would fall. The circle was finished. The triangle was finished. Setting the charcoal alight, spraying the perfumes, those would take seconds. "I want to watch the sun rise," I said. "Well we need to know when it does anyway, don’t we?" Sophie said. Chipper. Outside I pretended I could breath. Until she said the word Bune. "I’m looking forward to the fear. Something actually scary. How often do we get to see something actually scary nowadays?" I looked at her. I can’t remember being able to feel my face, so I don’t know what expression I was pulling. But whatever it was, it made her laugh. She reached forward and pinched my cheek. "The fires of hell. A being more powerful than you could ever imagine. And we’ll be dancing with it. Who’s going to win? Us or him?" She giggled and slapped my cheek, probably not as gently as she meant to. "I hope Amy won’t be scared. She was never much for freights. But she’s seen death now, so I imagine she can handle it." There was a moment of quiet. I felt like maybe I should say something, but when I reached inside I found that everything had shut up tight. Even if I could get past the dryness of my throat, or the twisting of my stomach, or the lightness of my head, there wasn’t anything to say. Vomit felt as likely to come up as words. I remembered the time with the goat. I felt like an animal again. Bone and muscle and nerves and blood and fear. Fear of what was about to happen. Fear, mostly, of making it happen. Of pushing the joystick forward. Of pressing the button. I think, maybe, I was about to say that I couldn’t do this. No. That’s bullshit. That’s fight or flight. We could have stood there in the cold forest air for a hundred years, my legs could have given out and I could have begun to starve and I wouldn’t have told her that. No more choices now. "Suns up," she said. Quietly. I wondered if the enthusiasm was gone. If, maybe, I was wrong. And she was just as scared as I was. I think I was right. Then she punched me on the arm and said "come on." So we went inside. Sprayed the perfume and lit the charcoal. Looked around. At our work. There’s a pride, when you finish a project, all the little bits come together. The machine isn’t even working yet, the code not running, but there’s such beauty in the potentiality. In hard work well done. "You stand over there," she said. And I swallowed hard. It took a long time for her to draw the blood. It took no time at all. Her hand was warm when she passed me the syringe. Right thumb on the plunger. Left index finger on the button. She stood in the circle. White on white. A ghost. Breathed deeply. "I invoke and move thee, O thou, spirit Bune." I was to await the last line of the first conjuration. The sound became noise. Time was just the infinitely unknowable gap between the end and the beginning. Between now and my cue. "therefore be friendly: speaking the secrets of Truth in voice and in understanding." I squeezed the plunger. I pushed the button. [Pause.] She looked at me. I looked at her. Something heavy and wet rolled onto the floor. She glanced at it, back up at the triangle. Bune’s seal undisturbed. She began the second conjuration. I didn’t look down. First again, second again, first again, second again. The constraint, the invocation of the king, the general curse. She turned to me, screaming that she needed the seal. The image of the seal. I moved then, grabbing my pencil and the piece of paper I had forgotten we’d laid aside. Drew your seal, Bune. She stood behind me, her voice quivering as she tried the first invocation again, tried the second again, the constraint, the invocation of the king, the general curse. Then she just screamed and screamed at me, to go faster, to go faster, her left hand clawing at me, along my arm to the piece of paper I tried to ignore was stained with blood from my fingertips. I nodded I was done and she threw the seal inside a box, ready prepared with all it needed, and snatched the sword from the dummy, which fell with a crash to the floor. "Pick it up! Out of the circle! Out of the circle!" She began the conjuration of the fire. Then, her voice calming by degrees, the greater curse. The final invocation. Before she thrust the box into the fire. The last step. The smell. The smell of hell itself. Sharp and earthy. Not of soil. Of rock. Of burning rock. The box, crackling in the fire. Me standing ready with the water. A long moment passed. And then a wail. "Fuck!" She thrust the hilt of the sword into my hand as she darted for the table. Swept up the knife, put the point straight to her wrist. The sword clanged against the floor as I dropped it. Her hand was in mine. Blood welled from a little nick, but I held her back from cutting further. She swore and screamed and raved, the knife point jerking through the air. Her skin saved only by the competing instincts within her to turn the blade on me and to turn it on herself. The door opened. We both looked. Johanna stood in the doorway. Mum. Dark circles under her eyes. "Mum, what are you-" I began, as she began: "I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I was so worried." And Sophie took the opportunity to turn the blade back around, cutting roughly at her upper arm, missing the vein. I think I screamed. "No, don’t!" mum yelled. I grabbed at the knife again. "Go to your fucking mamma!" Sophie yelled. The blade turned towards me. Pointed at my stomach. I was still pulling, I think. Until a new hand appeared. A force tugging up. I don’t know who was holding the knife. I just remember blood. The knife went slippy in my hand. I think I said something. I think I called out ‘mum’. Her left arm was loose by her side. Her right hand clutched the left side of her chest. By the time I found her pulse, it was gone. The last thing Sophie said to me was "we might as well use the blood." [Begins to laugh.] First conjuration, second conjuration, the constraint, the invocation of the king, the general curse, the conjuration of the fire, the greater curse. Then I felt Sophie looking down at me. She opened her mouth. But she said nothing. And then she left. I waited until the sun shone through the door. And I took my coat, and the seal of Bune, and I left too. I went back a minute later, when I found my mum’s phone in my coat pocket. I left it with her. It’s how she found me. It’s how they’ll find her. Bune. [Pause.] Sophie. [Pause.] I’m tired. I’m so tired. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "the_dog" time 0>><<audio "the_dog" play>><</timed>><<set $c = $c + 1>> <img src="Pictures/Dog.jpeg" style="max-width: 80%; max-height: 72vh"/> [[the room]] <<if $HoH is true>> [Deep breath.] Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I could be flippant about the eagle. I could be philosophical about the skull. I could be factual about the goat. But the dog. We bought her at a pet sho… [Sound of gagging, breathing] The heads of an eagle, a human and a dog. Sophie thought it would be best if it happened all at the same time. While she stood in the magic circle, I would create the empty vessel. We’d talked about using clea- [almost gagging noises.] She built guillotines, rigged them up together so they’d fall simultaneously, at the push of a button. I squirted her blood out onto the skulls at the same time. It was okay pushing the button. Because by then we’d drugged them and tied them down. And that- [swallowing] I could tell myself that the button was kind after that. <</if>>

[[The tavern.]] <<if $DiaconiconFinished is not true or $Crucifix is not true or not hasVisited("Examine the cup.")>>[[The slum church.]] <</if>><<if $Signature is not true or $TradedOut is not true>>[[The market.]] <</if>><<if not hasVisited("sneak in") or $DeathsForgotten is not true>>[[The manor district.]] <</if>>[[The cemetery.]] [[Back to the town.|the town]]

<<if $HR is not true>>[[The herbalist’s.]] <</if>><<if $MR is not true>>[[The butcher’s.]] <</if>><<if $SR is not true>>[[The scribe’s.]] <</if>><<if $BR is not true>>[[The blacksmith’s.]] <</if>>[[Back to the town.|the town]]

<div UIBar.stow();></div> <div class ="container"><mid><center>Demon Game of Sophie is an audio-visual experience built for PC. It is highly recommended that you play with your audio turned on. [[Understood|Title]]</center></mid></div>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "xyzzy" time 0>><<audio "xyzzy" play>><</timed>><<timed 4s>><<goto "The cemetery.">><</timed>> <<if $HoH is true>> FOOL! <</if>>

There is no grave with the name $grave here. You absolute child. [[Do better.|The cemetery.]]

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "chinese_room" time 0>><<audio "chinese_room" play>><</timed>> <center><a href="https://milomesdag.itch.io/a-chinese-room" target="_blank"> <img src="Pictures/Chinese_Room.png" style="max-width: 40%; max-height: 65vh"/> </a></center> [[Back|The cemetery.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Huh. The beginning of my crusade. The first time I thought “I’m not doing this for me.” Not just for me. I put - so – much – effort in. I wrote a love story and a brutal sociological horror and wrapped them up in a medium I’d more or less just invented. I read book after book, spent hours walking through Google maps, consumed article after article, statistic after statistic. I started learning how to speak Russian. Not that I ever got very far there. I’m proud of this. I don’t remember Leon very well, but Caroline Druar is the realest person I’ve ever created. She didn’t deserve what I did to her. She deserved exactly what I did to her. Slava Ukraine. <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "whisperers" time 0>><<audio "whisperers" play>><</timed>> <center><a href="https://milomesdag.itch.io/the-whisperers" target="_blank"> <img src="Pictures/Whisperers.png" style="max-width: 40%; max-height: 65vh"/> </a></center> [[Back|The cemetery.]] <<if $HoH is true>> Nikolai: You’re right. I do love her. [subdued] I love her! [whispering] She’s clever, she’s … funny, she’s beautiful. She’s exciting. [Nikolai looks at Dariya, who smiles. Pause] I’ve never met anyone like her. [Dariya nods, does a ‘there it is’ gesture, but Nikolai is not looking] She … she makes me feel awful. When I’m not with her, I just want to be with her. I feel like … it’s not that I’m incomplete. It’s not that meeting her was like suddenly seeing colour for the first time, it’s not like being with her is like having, I don’t know, having electricity running through me. It’s like, like I’m just bad when I’m not with her. Not morally, or … I think, but just bad at being a person, a man. Like I remember, when I was a young child, so young that I barely do remember, there were things to wake up for. Even if before whatever it was - reading or playing or spending time with mother – even if before it I had something else, like school or chores or something, there was still something to wake up for. No, no, that’s not right either. I have things. Now. I have things now, I love my work, I love my books, I love … things, life! But sometimes, no, all the time; sometime, sometime, a long time ago, when I was a child, something changed. Dreams became safer than life. Yes, there were reasons to wake up. But there were reasons to stay asleep too. As well. I was scared, I guess. And I became bad. But now I wake up, straight up, childishly up, because I know that I might get to be with her. And then when I’m dressed, I feel awful, because I’m not with her, and I’m ‘bad’ again, I’m weak and worried again and just bad. But I know I could be good. I know that that ‘something’ hasn’t changed back, that something that changed sometime, but I know I could get it back. Dariya: But not when you are with her? Nikolai: No. No, not when I am with her. When I am with her, I feel bad in a different way. In a much more ordinary way, I suppose. Or maybe, maybe it just seems more normal. I don’t know. Does it matter? When I’m with her, I feel slow, stupid, blunt. Like a rock next to a knife, or, or, excuse me, a fart next to a flower. She makes me feel awful. [Pause, while smiling] It’s amazing. It’s so exciting. And I get to be there. I… [pause] Dariya: She wants you there. Nikolai: Yes. Yes. Yes she does. [Pause] Isn’t it amazing? Dariya: Why wouldn’t it be? <</if>>

<<timed 0.5s>><<audio "not_yet_perished" time 0>><<audio "not_yet_perished" play>><</timed>> <center><a href="https://pretentiousgoldfish.itch.io/not-yet-perished" target="_blank"> <img src="Pictures/NYP.jpg" style="max-width: 40%; max-height: 65vh"/> </a></center> [[Back|The cemetery.]] <<if $HoH is true>> I barely remember it, in all honesty. But here I am, referencing it. Because I think it’s good. I don’t go back and replay, so it might be terrible. But I remember it as good. Bits of it are good, at least. Either way, I feel for it. Because the very few people who remember just remember the stunt. Two people streaming themselves twenty hours a day for two weeks while making a game. Raising money for real heroes. But no-one remembers the game. Including me, it seems. But I remember there’s pain. And loss. I remember feeling like I was channelling something. Like somehow, through the articles and photos and those precious times I had the honour to talk to someone actually on the ground, someone who’d not just seen the blood but felt the blood, somewhere in that I tapped into a little bit of something true. While I went slightly mad in my flat, eating burnt borsch and slurping an egg out of a glass of soda and chair dancing to bad ska. I felt like I said something worth saying. Something now forgotten. <</if>>