>>2354018

You quickly forget what you were thinking about as the southern gate comes into view.

“Yes!” you cheer. If tears of happiness started streaming down your face, you wouldn’t even be surprised. ”Finally, we’re back!”

The city walls stop at two stone towers, a tall, wooden door painted with the royal banner’s colors of white and blue. It’s thick, heavy, and would be impossible for anything but the spell circles engraved on the other side to open it.

It takes a while for the guards to check the three of you and your identification papers over, but everyone manages to get through without any hassle.

The door slowly swings open with a loud groan, and the slums immediately come into view. Ruins are no rarity among the sloppy wooden houses, seeing as the poor foundation underneath makes for any kind of construction a bad idea. One structure, however, stands out in particular. A long-overgrown church has been slowly devoured by the earth, its once-perfect stone walls now scattered across the ground alongside flowers that had begun to bloom. Thanks to the giant hole that extends from one side of the church to its ceiling, light is able to reach farther in than what the ruined stained-glass windows would allow. A crescent moon sits atop the church, half-broken.

You stop walking when you see the herbalist had paused to stare at it.

“What’s that?” She points to it and says, “I’ve never been here before. Can we check it out?”

The neighborhood is a bit seedy, so this doesn’t exactly fall at the top of the list of things you want to do right now.

Still, you’ve never actually stepped foot inside.
>Might as well. You’re curious.
>You’re keeping a close eye on here, though.
>You’d rather not.

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

>>2354028
>Might as well. You’re curious.

>>2354028
>Might as well. You’re curious.

>>2354028
>>Might as well. You’re curious.
We'll be fine, as long as Touryn has his pokey metal bits.

>>2354038
>>2354043
>>2354044
Might as well.

Writing

Well, you might as well. You admit, you are curious about the whole place. There shouldn’t be any problem since you have Touryn here.

“Sure,” you say, “We’re not in a rush.” No, actually, you really want to unload all of these feathers so you can go home and take a long bath. Still, you follow Syrup’s lead anyways as she excitedly walks up to the church. Or her version of “excitedly” anyways.

As she peers at the flowers right outside the giant hole in the wall, you take a good look at the entrance.

Touryn says, “You all should take care of your churches.”

You reply, “Well, we don’t worship our eidolon anymore.” The royal family of Aldrose are technically faeries, with each member who carries their blood having a spell circle that can call Solaria at any time. It’s a genuine form of divine mandate, something that the royalty of Ristella lacks. It’s without saying that there’s a lot less reverence for Luna, or any other eidolon in particular. You say, “It’s not like she needs worshipping anyways.”

He sighs. “Well, I can’t say seeing something like this would sit right with me.”

You walk in, past the wooden doors that were broken off. The interior is filled with rotting pews, and it is surprisingly open, the sight of outside making the church seem larger than it actually is. Vines had begun to creep up along the walls and ceiling. Solaria’s light spills through the stained-glass image of Luna, a scene that leaves you amused.

You see Syrup outside, and she makes eye contact with you. She gives you a small wave, and you wave back.

Wood cracks and shatters, and you almost jump out of your skin. You’re almost as surprised as Touryn, who had just fallen through the wooden floor. You slowly peek through the hole in the floor. The swordsman is groaning as he gets up off the stone ground, and he looks at you. “Really?”

You ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I think.”

“Do you see a way out?” you say as Syrup approaches and peeks downward with you.

“Uh, it’s pretty dark.”

You extend an arm down. “Here, grab on.”

He looks uneasily. “What if you fall too?”

You blink. Then, you slowly withdraw your arm. “Uh...”

Maybe that’s a bad idea.
>”Screw it. Grab on.”
>”We’ll look for something up here.”
>”Hold on, I’ll get help.”
>Write-in.

>>2354089
>”We’ll look for something up here.”

>>2354089
>>”Hold on, I’ll get help.”
I'm sure there are plenty of people nearby who won't shank and or rob us if we just ask nicely!

>>2354089
>”We’ll look for something up here.”
If we can't find anything then we'll try looking for someone

>>2354094
>>2354113
Look around and try not to fall

>>2354099
Ask nicely to not get shanked

Writing

“We’ll look for something up here,” you say, “If we don’t find anything, we’ll get help.”

“Sounds like a plan.” His eyes are darting around.

“What’s down there anyways?” you ask.

“Down here?” he takes a look around, squinting. “Desks and papers. It doesn’t smell too great down here, at all. Not that it did up there, but can you hurry it up? I don’t like it down here.”

Standing back up, you begin searching around. You say to Syrup, “You search that end,” while pointing to the entrance. “I’ll check out the other side.”

Wordlessly, she nods, and you walk toward the chancel and the altar. Looking back, doing all of this for a deity that never took any liking to that sort of thing was silly in the first place.

You find a door in no problem at all. Pushing it open, you find yourself in what appears to be a sacristy. You say appear, because the room is otherwise completely empty save for the incredibly conspicuous rug in the middle of the room. Dry rot has already destroyed half of it, revealing a trap door leading downwards. Kicking the rug off to the side, you bend down to open the door, groaning as you pull the latch to open it. It breaks, of course, and you almost fall down. Cursing and wondering if the whole place was a death trap, you manage to dig your fingers into the hole left behind and open it that way.

It swings open, and a musty smell hits you hard. There’s a steel ladder downwards, and you are very grateful it probably won’t leave you lying on the ground in pain after breaking.

Before you even climb down, you test the waters with a loud greeting, “Hello? Anyone there?”

You vaguely hear a reply. Touryn says, “Yeah. I see the ladder!”

You hear a soft tapping. You look at Touryn, and he moves a hand ready to draw his sword. It’s difficult to make out the sound; it’s almost like stone lightly striking stone. It’s patterned too, almost as if it was a strut of an animal. Suddenly, Touryn swings his sword at something. He only manages to cut air, and he takes a step back.

“What are you doing?!” you ask.

“Something’s down here!” he replies. Then, a shadowy figure briefly blocks your vision of Touryn.

Suddenly, you don’t want to climb down the ladder anymore.

He shouts, “Can I break the church floor?” The one he just fell through?

“What? Why?”

“Because I can’t see anything down here!” he says.

“It’s probably a stray cat or something,” you reply.

You wonder if someone might find a problem with it.
>Let him do it.
>Tell him to get to the ladder already.
>Jump down yourself.
>Write-in.

>>2354177
>Tell Syrup to go and get help, preferably someone with a light source.
>Go down ourselves

>>2354207
Tell Syrup to get help and a light, and then climb down

Writing

Exiting the room for a moment, you call for Syrup. As she walks over, she asks, “I found this.” She shows you some kind of white plant in her hands. “Here, try it.”

You begin to reach out for it, but then you stop yourself. “Wha- I’m not going to eat something randomly growing here.”

“...Are you sure? It tastes good.”

“I think I’m sure,” you say. Syrup then brings it to her mouth and takes a bite out of it. You want to say something about it, but you don’t. You shouldn’t.

She says, “Did you find something?”

“A trapdoor. Can you get help? Maybe someone with a light? It’s really dark down there.”

She takes a long look at you, and then she turns around to glance at the wooden floor. “You can break—”

“No, let’s not,” you say, “We’re not desecrating this place.”

Syrup looks like she’s about to protest, but then she stops. Nodding, she walks off almost a bit too unhurriedly.

You sigh. If you were in your workshop and had an aether source, you would have been able to evoke Solaria and gotten a light yourself.

- - -

Touryn stands there unwilling to move for a while longer before someone arrives. Wearing armor you can make out from a distance, the city guard begrudgingly walks over to the hole in the floor with a lantern in his hands. He frowns. “You shouldn’t play around here.”

“I wasn’t,” Touryn shouts.

“Uh huh,” he says. He then turns a knob on the lantern and gives it a few taps. Sure enough, the cheap gemstone inside softly glowing. He hands it over to you. “’Careful with it, or you’re paying.”

“Right...” you say, taking it.

With that, you start climbing down the ladder. The guard watches you from afar, while Syrup curiously watches. When you reach the stone floor, you raise the light and look around.

Markings are all over the walls and floor. You couldn’t make it out clearly, but someone had painted lines and arcs all over the room, bearing resemblance to a spell circle almost. While you approach Touryn, you find that you can’t take your eyes off of it.

Soon enough the circle of light that reaches the ground touches the one from the hole in the ceiling, and the swordsman starts making your way to you.

You say, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He looks completely unconvinced about there was nothing to worry about, but he follows you anyways.

You bring the lantern up again as you turn around, and you realize it was not a stray cat.

[1/2]

>>2354276

A sharp figure with six narrow legs stands on edge. It has pitch black fur, and when your eyes go from its body to its neck, you’re taken aback when you see its head. It doesn’t have a single scale, but it bears a resemblance to a snake’s head with its narrow face. You catch a gleam of two sharp fangs.

You have no idea what this is, and you want nothing to do with it. Taking a step back, you try to separate it and yourself with the light. It hisses at you, and it was then you thought that you had discovered its weakness. It then leaps at you, instantly dismissing that idea.

“Move!” Touryn says, pushing you out of the way in an incredibly ungentle manner. Still holding the lantern, you watch as the runes on his sword glow slightly. He cuts at the animal, despite not having enough reach, but the desk it stands on splits in half anyways. The creature moves out of the way at the last moment. Changing direction, it begins to circle the two of you, stop, and then it runs to the other side of the room, disappearing into the shadows.

Neither you or Touryn needed any urging to get out of there as quickly as possible.

- - -

“Let’s never do that again,” Touryn says.

The lantern was returned, and the guard had walked of as nothing worried him at all. You have doubts he even saw what was down there.

“I wanted to pet it,” Syrup says. “It looked soft.”

You say, “Are we talking about the same thing here?”

“...Maybe it was hungry,” she adds. You can’t say you wanted to find out.

Stopping outside of Professor Mog’s store, you realize its closed. You say, “He’s not here?” You really wanted to just dump the feathers here, but you guess you can’t really leave it like this. If by some miracle someone wanted to purchase something and no one was here, you would be horrified.

Also, you see something stick out of the receptacle for anonymous commissions.

Touryn asks, “Are you opening the shop?” While Syrup reads the name of the shop out loud, you reach inside your satchel for a key.

With that, you unlock the door, leave the “CLOSED” sign untouched, drop your backpack full of roc feathers into the workshop, and pull out the papers.

“What’s that?” Syrup asks, peering at what you’re holding. She walks around to see what you’re reading, exactly.

[2/3]

>>2354348

“Commissions... or requests.” You turn to Touryn for a second, directing something at him. “Remember what Professor Mog said about how we get by?”

“Oh.” He looks at the papers after emptying the feathers from his bag. “What about it?”

“...Well, one thing led to another, and we ended taking just about anything.”

He nods as if he understood everything. “Ah, money problems.”

Syrup says, “Fake shopkeeping?”

Ignoring that, you look at the papers. “We sure have a lot.” Touryn looks at the papers with Syrup and you, but you read them out loud anyways.

The first one is in an elegant script. Even the parchment feels expensive.

I found a cursed book!
By some fortune, I happened upon a cursed book of some sort. I’m not the most knowledgeable person when it comes to the dealings of magic, so I know little about the details. It has a black cover, and there are strange scribblings all over it. I’ve made little progress in finding what’s inside after a year, and I’ve become terribly curious about its contents. I was informed there was an expert all sorts of unusual things here, but I seemed to have missed them...
It goes on to ask you to contact them and some other minor details. The pay seems little, but the author says that the contents of a cursed book are a reward in itself.

You mumble, “Wow, I wish I can pay for dinner by reading a book.”

“Hmm,” Touryn says, “A curse? Do those even exist?”

Syrup looks at you and says, “I like this one.” You open your mouth to ask why, and before you can, she says, “This handwriting is pretty.” You can’t argue with that, although you wonder if she looked at the contents of the words at all.

You put the paper to the back as you switch to the next sheet. The first thing you notice is that you weren’t sure if a child wrote it with their nondominant hand or it was the dying message of some lunatic.

Help me I can’t sleep
They’re watching me. I can’t sleep. Something is in the walls. They keep staring at me. Please make them go away. They’re making my skin crawl. I can’t stay in my house. I tried sleeping in an inn once. They followed me. They keep following me wherever I go. I don’t know what to do. Every time I look for them they disappear. No one will believe me. I don’t have anyone left to ask. Please help me please please please. I’ll give you all I have...

“Um...” you start to trail off. That was disconcerting.

“I don’t know,” Touryn says, “He did say please. Can’t be that bad.”

Syrup shakes her head. “This smells bad.”

“Ehn?” You put it up to your face for a whiff, pulling it away when a powerful smell of mold hits you. Frowning, you make a mental note to throw it away.

[3/4]

>>2354420

Finally, the third one.

A strange wound.
Apologies if this is not the type of work you do, but I don’t know who to ask. A child recently came into an orphanage I work at, and I’ve overheard the other children talking about an injury he had. When I had him show it to me, it was clear it had gone bad. It looks like some kind of burn in the form of a marking or tattoo, yet there are gashes as if he was cut. Tearing, maybe? It refuses to close, too, and he had been covering it with rags. I’ve taken him to a doctor and was told me there was nothing he could do. Leave it to time, he said! Was this caused by magic, maybe? Or a poison?...

The pay isn’t much, but you doubt whoever wrote this had much to give in the first place.

You say, “This is pretty much charity work.”

Touryn says, “I don’t mind. It seems a little out of our depth, though.”

You reply, “We do have...” Trailing off, you look at Syrup.

“Me?” she says, genuinely surprised.

“I don’t know who else,” you say.

“Well, if you want me to...” Syrup replies, choosing not to add any more.

I found a cursed book!
>Take the job.
>Leave it.

Help me I can’t sleep
>Take the job.
>Leave it.

A strange wound.
>Take the job.
>Leave it.

I’ll leave this vote up slightly longer.

>>2354423
Can we choose only one job?

>>2354447
Pick as many as you want. You can even choose 0.

I was hoping to see update [4/5]

>>2354452
...Ahem, take cursed book.

Sleeper is creeper, wounds are nasty, and forbidden knowledge is fun.

>>2354423
Let's help the insomniac.

>>2354423
Help them all

>>2354455
>>2354459
>>2354466
That's:

Cursed Book: 2 yes, 1 no
Sleep Aid: 2 yes, 1 no
Wound: 1 yes, 2 no

Writing

File: thoughtful architecture.jpg (244 KB, 750x709)

244 KB JPG

“Guess I’ll accept these two,” you say, separating the first two from the last one. You’re not too excited to see some weird flesh-eating disease today—surely there must be better people to ask. Touryn says nothing as you make your choice while making a mixed expression.

Syrup doesn’t seem to care as she looks around. Staring with an intensity that might physically drill a hole through the glass counter, she says, “What do you sell here? I’m confused.”

“Interesting... things? The thing you’re looking at is a hand-carved charm from the Fungal Isles. There’s all sorts of... knickknacks?” you say. “The professor is the one who collects everything anyways. Now come on, let’s get out of here already. We can meet up tomorrow.” The herbalist walks away, almost disappointed. You ask her, “Do you have anywhere to stay?”

“I saw an inn earlier... so I should be fine,” she says, “Who’s the professor?”

“Oh, you’ll meet him tomorrow, if he’s here. He taught me all about witchcraft.”

She walks out, you close the door behind her and Touryn and lock it. You’re not quite sure she even knows or cares what witches do.

- - -

It is the day after, and the professor has not returned. When the swordsman asked about what to do with the feathers, you could only reply with a “I have no idea” and a “It was the professor’s thing”.

As you walk down the streets trying to find the address of the author of the alleged cursed book, Syrup looks around in awe.

Touryn asks, “First time in Ristella?” She nods in affirmation, and he adds, “Second time for me. You shouldn’t wander around or you might get lost.”

Syrup takes a second to reply, “I won’t. There aren’t any plants here.”

“Is that all you think about?” he asks.

“This place is weird,” she says, “How did they build things like this?”

Narrow, awkwardly twisting streets and weave all around each other, intersecting at the most unexpected places. With the high buildings threatening to cover the sky, this part of the city is certainly not for anyone too claustrophobic.

You reply, “From what I know, Loam did most of the work; the eidolon was the only reason there were enough resources to build the city in the first place, and that buildings could even stand up.”

“Using eidolons...” she mumbles, almost frowning.

Soon enough, you reach your destination: an apartment building that starts not at ground level, but atop some other squat structure. Being on the highest floor and all, you are absolutely sure whoever the author is, they must be rich. Filthy stinking rich.

You ring the doorbell, and you hear someone approaching.

[1/2]

“Coming!” A feminine voice. You hear the locks being undone, and then the door opens. There, a black-haired woman with the most ridiculous dress stands before you. With more frills than you can count, the damned thing takes up so much space you wonder how it maintains its fluffiness in the first place. As you’re stuck speechless by how anyone would waste their money on such extravagance, she says, “...You’re not the delivery men.” She eyes you three suspiciously.

Catching yourself, you say, “That’s because we’re not. We’re here because of your request about a cursed book.”

A smile appears on her face, and she says, “Oh, come in! You being here means you’ve accepted the job, am I wrong? I’ll pour us some tea.” You feel blown away a second time. The fact that she doesn’t have a servant to do such a thing is baffling.

The interior is unsurprisingly plush. With warm colors and shelves filled with various strange objects, you figure that she must be a collector of sorts. If the professor was here, you sure he would get along with her just fine.

While you sit on a sofa and reflect how you’ll never surround yourself with such nice fabrics, Syrup nonchalantly takes a seat next to you.

She whispers, “Are you okay?”

“Yes...” you meekly reply. “I’m fine. I’m not dying of envy or anything.” Touryn rolls his eyes.

The woman places a tray on the table in front the three of you and pours out the tea before sitting on her incredibly comfortable looking chair on the other side.

You give muted quiet thank you as you sip on your cup. It tastes strange, but pleasant.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” you say, “I’m Circe, this is Syrup, and that’s Touryn.”

“Schwartz,” the woman says, “I hope you didn’t find it was too much trouble to get here. I tried visiting your shop, but...”

You reply, “It wasn’t a problem. If anything, I should apologize that no one was there.” You wonder where the professor is right now. “Do you still have the book?”

“I do,” she says. She leaves for a second and returns with the black book in her hands. You can see from the side that the pages are yellowed. She places it onto the table and sits back down. “It has its fair share of weather and age, so do be careful.”

Gently, you set your cup down and pick it up. Bound in leather and dyed, the book seems to be only marred by the runic imprints that are made onto cover and back. There’s no gemstone or any sort of aether container, which makes you wonder if this was magical at all.

Touryn looks skeptically while you take the cover with one hand and try to open it. It doesn’t budge. Doubting whether or not it’s stuck together, you try again. When it doesn’t move again, you wonder if this is an elaborate prank in which someone chiseled a book out of stone and dressed it convincingly.

Schwartz sighs. “As you can see, it’s sealed shut.”

>>2354646

Is that right?
>”Have you tried... cutting it?”
>”If it’s cursed, why do you keep it around?”
>”Where did you get this from?”
>”How old is this thing?”
>Write-in.

>>2354654
>"Where did you get this from?"

>>2354669
Origins?

Writing

“Where did you get this from?” you ask.

“It was on a trip to Whitebloom that an associate had found it off washed up on a beach,” she explains. That’s an island southeast of the continent, you recall. “Miraculously, it wasn’t damaged by the waters at all! He gave after he spent a week passing it around the locals, and when we met up, he wanted to hand it over to me. He said it was less weight on his mind.” With a sigh, she adds, “Honestly, I don’t understand him.”

“Waterproofed? The Ristellan Library waterproofs all of their books, so it’s not too surprising.” You turn to Touryn and say, “It’s... technically a curse. A faerie brand is like a curse in the form of runes.” Even though wild, fantastical tales made have given it a meaning that’s quite impossible to achieve, runes would be the closest thing to it. “And this is cursed to be shut, apparently.”

Syrup then says, “Then the person who cursed it didn’t want anyone to see what’s inside.” An obvious conjecture.

Schwartz wonders out loud, “For our good or for theirs?” You doubt it’s anything too incredible. After Syrup glanced over the book and Touryn frowned after flipping it around, the old thing gets handed to you again and Schwartz asks, “So, what do you think?”

She’s putting you on the spot. Great. Mulling it over, you try to gather what little knowledge you know about any form of magic. First of all, there needs to be a source of aether. After thoroughly looking it over, you realize there are none that’s immediately visible. Your next thought is that this is all the runes fault and it should be immediately scribbled off.

You finally answer, “We can try removing the runes.”

“If being dropped into the ocean wasn’t enough, how could you possibly achieve such a thing?” she asks, skeptical.

“There’s the problem with aether...” you murmur. You notice the herbalist staring intently at the book. “Syrup, do you have any ideas?”

“...It’s making me hungry.”

“Huh?!” you say, pulling the book away from her. “No, don’t eat books!”

“Listen to her!” Schwartz says, practically getting out of her seat, “Books are not fit for that sort of consumption! Absolutely not! Oh, I wonder if I have any sweets lying around. Sweets are fine, no?”

Growing apologetic, Syrup shrinks back. “S-sorry. I won’t eat it.”

You relax slightly. Really, you’re at a loss as to what to do; if only you knew more about runes.

You wonder if you can do anything right now.
>Take the book with you and leave.
>Try something. (Write-in)
>Ask Schwartz something. (Write-in)

>>2354715
>Try something. (Write-in)
>>Immerse it in water and see if anything changes.
>Ask Schwarz if there is anything else she can recall.
>Look for books about the island the book supposedly came from. Maybe if we research them, we will discover something about the runes on the covers.

>>2354715
>>Take the book with you and leave.

>>2354723
Try all of this

>>2354724
And then give up if nothing works

Writing!

You say, “I have an idea. Can I try something? I want to see what happens if I try to submerge this in water.” She looked hesitant for a second, but when you finished your thought, she agreed and led you toward her sink. While you wait for it to fill, you ask Schwartz, “Was there anything else? Any other details you remember?”

She puts a hand near her mouth as she thinks deeply. After a long while, she says, “I can say for sure that it belonged to someone in Whitebloom. I was told that the stylings of the carvings for the curse were that of a local’s.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”

“No, any little bit helps. Thanks for trying,” you say.

Schwartz stops the flow of water, and you look at the filled sink. Glancing at her, you say, “Here goes nothing.” You carefully lower the book in water. A brief period of time passes with you holding your breath as nothing happens. Then, ever so slowly, it begins to glow. “Ah—the runes are activating.” When Touryn uses his sword, both the runes and the gemstone light up. You tilt your head as you try to make out the shifting lights, but then you realize that the entire book is glowing as aether is used. “What does that mean...?” you mumble.

When nothing happens, you roll up your sleeve and take the book out to dry it out. You notice that although water clings to it, none actually seeped in. It’s definitely waterproofed.

Schwartz asks you, “What did you find out?”

You reply, “It’ll take me a little longer to figure out, but I might be onto something.”

You thank her for the tea, and she thanks you for taking on the job of dismantling the curse. You, Touryn, and Syrup leave with the book in your possession, and after a short walk, you say, “...We should look up this island. Maybe we can find something.”

“Ehh,” Touryn says, “Sorry, but I’m not too excited about this sort of thing.”

Syrup says, “I can look it up.”

You look at her. “Are you going to eat any books?”

“No!” she says, “I never ate any books before!”

“I was joking,” you say, “Maybe we can find something about these runes too. Actually, maybe someone at the Library can read them too.”

Touryn looks at you, “What’s the plan, boss?”

Wait, what did he just call you?
>Everyone is going to the library.
>You and Touryn move onto the next job while Syrup looks things up,
>Save the library for later. Someone needs help sleeping.
>Write-in.

>>2354761
>You and Touryn move onto the next job while Syrup looks things up

>>2354772
Split up

Writing

“We can split up then. Touryn and I will head to the... other job, while Syrup can check out the library.”

No one seems to complain, and Syrup parts ways after a short walk.

Touryn asks, “Will she be fine on her own?”

“...Too late now,” you say. She’s already gone. “But wait, you’d rather do this? You saw the handwriting, right?” you say, confused, “You read it with me, didn’t you?”

“Looks like it’ll interesting,” he answers with a slight smile. Mildly horrified, you wonder what kind of hobbies he has. Nothing you want to know, you think.

- - -

You find the house in the slums, and it is in failing condition. It’s tilted, part of the foundation sinking into the ground. You’re almost afraid to touch the door, seeing the dirt and mold on it. In fact, you’re afraid to touch anything altogether

Touryn says to you, “Ladies first.”

You flatly reply, “Haha, funny.” You knock, and you wait. The first thing you notice is the sliding. Someone’s dragging his feet as they walk up. The chain on the other side audibly moves, and the door opens to reveal a thin, tired man. His skin is as pale as a corpse, and he has heavy bags under his eyes. He’s also a head taller than you, firmly giving him the status of mildly terrifying.

He says, “...What do you want?”

You quickly reply, “My name is Circe, and this is Touryn. We came here because of your request? About the walls watching you?” You end that last sentence on an awkwardly high pitch, almost as if your voice was running away.

“Oh, yes!” he says, life practically returning to his eyes. But it doesn’t. He looks as dead as ever. “Please, come in. My name is Nuell.” You’d rather not, but you do it anyway. Touryn follows and keeps a stern face.

His house is barren. A single large room with messy straw bed lying right on the floor. Some papers and books are scattered loosely, and a small lamp sits atop a drawer, the single real piece of furniture in the room. A shockingly minimalistic living style, even for what someone might expect around here.

He pries open a loose floorboard and shows you a bag of coin. It’s not much, but he isn’t exactly as wealthy as Schwartz.

Touryn looks around. “You said there was something in the walls?”

You take a look around. There seems to be a thin layer of insulation that separates the inner wooden boards from the outer boards, and that this insulation proves to be air when you see daylight leaking through the gaps.

“So,” you start to say, “...You want us to get rid of this thing?”

“Things.” Nuell says. “And yes, please.”

“Sorry?” you say.

“It’s not thing. It’s things. There’s a lot of them.”

You purse your lips. Oh, fantastic.
>”Do you mind if we open a hole in the wall?”
>”What are we getting rid of exactly?”
>”We’re not staying overnight if that’s what you’re asking us to do.”
>”Keep your money. I think you need it more than we do.”
>Write-in.

File: 1383326202254.png (216 KB, 500x500)

216 KB PNG

Stopping here for today. Thanks for playing! I'll be back the day after tomorrow, same time.

>>2354805
>>”Do you mind if we open a hole in the wall?”

>>2354805
>”Do you mind if we open a hole in the wall?”
>”What are we getting rid of exactly?”

Thanks for running!

>>2354808
>”What are we getting rid of exactly?”

>>2354805
>”What are we getting rid of exactly?”

>>2354805
>How long have you been in this house?
>Have you always had this problem with the walls, or did it start recently?
>Do you know if anything strange occurred before you started hearing what was in the walls?

>>2354810
>>2354811
>>2354868
>>2354913
>>2355152

“What...” you start to say, your eyes skimming the interior of the house, “What are we getting rid of exactly?”

Nuell frowns. He thinks for a moment, agitated, before answering. ”I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”

“Can you try?” you ask.

“It... it has eyes. Floating eyes. Every time I try to get a look at them, they’re already disappearing. But I know, it definitely has eyes.”

You don’t have a clue. There aren’t many things in this world that can vanish into thin air, and none of them are floating eyeballs exactly. There’s a nagging feeling that the more he talks, the less it helps.

Touryn, as if he had remembered to recall something, asks, “How big are these things again?” Ah, flashbacks.

Nuell hesitates. ”The eyes are around...” he says, making a circle with his hands as wide as possible. “This big.”

“I guess we’re hunting giant eyeballs now.” That does not help at all.

Stopping this line of questioning, you proceed to avoid everything about these mysterious eyeballs in favor of some context. “How long have you lived in here? Was it always a problem?”

The thin man wets his cracked lips. “For a couple of years,” he says. When he realizes he didn’t say enough, he adds, “My wife passed away, and I fell into a slump. I moved here a couple of years ago. And no, it wasn’t always like this. It started a few nights after. I don’t understand it at all...”

Touryn asks, “Were there any strange events? Anything before you started... hearing things?”

A pause. “Hearing? No, no, no, they’re very quiet. There’s the occasional sound... but I never really paid attention until I saw them with my own eyes. And no strange events, none.”

You want to sigh, but you suppress it. You ask, “Okay. Do you mind if we open a hole in the wall?”

He blinks. “Can you fix it after?”

Glancing at Touryn, you find him shaking his head. A clear no. You can’t either, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. “No, but it’ll be just a small one.”

The swordsman adds, “We can’t exactly kill it if we can’t get to it.”

Nuell stares at the two of you apprehensively. After a long, anxious minute, he replies, “Just a small one. A tiny one, okay? Nothing too big.”

Now with permission, Touryn draws his sword. The runes light up, and ever so gently, he cuts a hand-sized gap in the wooden boards. He asks if it’s fine, and Nuell only nods. Touryn then, ever so carefully, peers into the gap. He turns his head to look in every direction, only to come out without a word.

[1/2]

>>2360929

Wondering if an insect were waiting to fall on your face, you slowly lean in to peek. Darkness. There’s nothing there, not even a single sign of moment. Surprising in more ways than one.

Touryn says, “I didn’t see anything.”

“Me neither,” you add in.

On the verge of panicking, Nuell takes a step closer to you two. “Please, you have to believe me. They only show up when I’m asleep.”

Eyebrow raised, Touryn replies, “So you want us to guard you while you sleep.”

“Yes,” he answers.

“Right now?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Will you be able to fall asleep...?”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” he says, “I haven’t slept for days.”’

You believe him completely.
>Reluctantly stand guard in his house.
>Patiently wait outside. You don’t feel comfortable at all.
>Maybe you should come back at night.
>Write-in.

>Ask him something? (Write-in)

>>2360931
>>Reluctantly stand guard in his house.
> Do you have any mirrors? Or at least anything reflective?

>>2360950
Supporting this

File: what.jpg (34 KB, 390x350)

34 KB JPG

>>2360950
What are you planning to do with a mirror?

>>2360961
It's always just out of sight, right? A mirror will let us see around corners and in blindspots.

>>2360950
>>2360954
Mirror guard!

>>2360969
Thanks for clarifying.

Writing

>>2361028
>”How do you like Ristella?”
>”Have you met the Queen of Aldrose before? You did serve under her.”
>Write-in.

File: Bjvx-EICQAARlC-.jpg orig.jpg (113 KB, 713x837)

113 KB JPG

“Do you have any mirrors? Or anything reflective, at least?” you ask.

“I think I have something,” he says, going to his drawers. Opening one, he takes out a cracked hand mirror with its handle broken off. He hands it over to you, and you thank him. Briefly checking the hole again, you find nothing. It’ll come in handy when something starts happening, you suppose.

“We’ll stand guard,” you say, “So.... uh,”

You let your sentence sort of trail of in this awkward setup you find yourself in. Wondering if there was any smooth solution to this, you eventually give up thinking. Nuell lays on his bed, facing toward the wall, and you and Touryn move to the corner opposite.

While the man tries to make his sleeping position more uncomfortable—something you doubt will happen—Touryn whispers to you, “You’re the expert here. What are we dealing with?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, “I’ve never heard of anything like what he’s describing. Floating eyes? I think that ever existed, it would’ve been wiped out by people out of fear already.”

“But it’s a faerie, right?”

“If it flies and can disappear,” you say, “then definitely.”

The conversation slows down as the two of you settle into a period of waiting. You wish you had least a chair, or anything. There isn’t even a table in this place. You begin wondering if he actually lives here at all.

“...Do you remember that thing back then? Under the church,” Touryn asks you in whispers.

“The thing that I thought was a stray cat?” you say, “I guess I was wrong. I never seen one of those things before though.”

“So you don’t know what it is either,” he says, “You’re not a very good witch, are you?”

“Oh shut up, I don’t know everything.”

He mutters, “I don’t think it was there when I first fell, though.”

Silence creeps up again, and the waiting is starting to become painful. You wish Nuell would fall asleep quicker, but you don’t blame him. Two strangers are in the same room as him, after all.

Should you say something?
>”How do you like Ristella?”
>”What’s your mentor like?”
>”How’s it been these couple of days? Like it? Hate it?”
>”Have you met the Queen of Aldrose before? You did serve under her.”
>Stay silent.
>Write-in.

>>2361028
>>”How’s it been these couple of days? Like it? Hate it?”

>>2361036
>”Have you met the Queen of Aldrose before? You did serve under her.”

>>2361035
How's Ristella?

>>2361046
How's your demotion going?

>>2361035
>>2361050
How's whatsherface doing?

Writing

You attempt to make small talk.

“How’s Ristella so far?” you ask.

“...Confusing,” he replies, “You don’t see the sky all that much. It’s not like what I expected at all, really.”

“What were you expecting? A bunch of nobles and librarians talking about books all day?” you say. He gives you an embarrassed look, and you continue, “Well not around here. Closer to the castle, where the library is, you can definitely see the stereotype. Books, books, and more books. Oh, speaking of castles, have you met the Queen of Aldrose before? You served under her, right? A genuine queen...”

He blows air out of his nose slightly harder than normal. “You say that like your Queen isn’t genuine. But no, I’ve never talked to her. Though I’ve seen her close up, though. Close enough to tell that she’s a descendant of Solaria. The decades don’t show on her face.”

“That might be just cosmetics...” you mumble. “Well, how’s it been doing something other than soldier work, whatever that is?”

“It’s... different,” he says, “Is this what you do all the time? It doesn’t feel secure. Tomorrow could be a completely different day than today.”

“I’m used to it. It’s better than monotony.”

He looks away. “...There’s some truth in that.”

It’s by now that you’ve begun to feel fed up. This is taking forever, and you want to get this over with. A thousand flying eyeballs can come at you for all you care. Anything is fine, as long as your legs don’t fall asleep from standing still for so long. Wondering if he’s fallen asleep, you take a step toward him to try and to get a good look.

Something moves out of the corner of your eye, and you freeze. Slowly turning your head, you look at the hole in the wall to see nothing but the wooden boards on the other side. Touryn gives you a questioning look, and you start to move back to where you were standing before, until it happens again. Always on the edge of your vision.

You whisper, “I think it’s here?”

“Where? I don’t see anything.”

Gripping the mirror in your hand, you move toward the hole that Touryn made before. You peek into it and find nothing. Using the hand mirror this time, you try and look around the corner. Daylight leaking from the outside bounces off of it, illuminating the space between the walls ever so slightly.

As if the wood was shifting by itself, you squint as you try to make out what it is. Your eyes widen as realization dawns, and you take a step back before it reaches out to you.

[1/2]

>>2361120

If you were to explain to someone what the thing looked like, you would tell them to imagine a glass of water that has a spoon in it. If one were to observe it, it would appear that the spoon has split.

The wraith, as clear as day, can only be physically described as a distortion of its surroundings. Context is what gives it shape and form, and right now, the wooden boards have an ebb and flow to it. An everchanging being of pure aether, a wraith is nothing more than energy with a consciousness. If it were to grow and gather more power and intelligence, eventually it could even merge with an eidolon. A single black point floats around its body, marking the point of highest concentration: a core, without all the usual associations the word might carry with it. Even if it were cut, the wraith will simply reform.

As you take a step back, Touryn already has his sword at ready. “Is that what I think it is?” he asks.

Thoughts rush through your mind. “It’s a wraith,” you murmur, “Gale’s? No, there’s no wind here. Loam? If anything, it might be Gaia, but it’s not sticking to the wood. It’s just floating there...” A wraith is a being that derives its existence from its context. Yet, you can’t imagine what aspect of the world it’s being drawn to.

The distortion in space starts advancing slowly toward the two of you, out of the hole. You see another black spot, and more follows. You can’t make out when one ends and another begins. “How many of them are there?!” Touryn says, “Hey, I’ve never actually fought one before.”

“That makes two of us. But, don’t touch it,” you say, “You know that much, right?” He nods, taking a step back. The runes aren’t lighting up, which you think is a good idea. Otherwise, he might just blow the whole house down.

The wraiths’ movements never truly leave the comfort of the space inside the walls, but they certainly don’t seem too happy about the new hole. Maybe they’re actually curious.

Suddenly, from below, another wraith starts pushing itself out of the small gap in the floorboards.

It’s uncomfortably close.
>Have Touryn cut it down.
>Get out of the house.
>Stay still, and hope they don’t bother you two.
>Try something else. (Write-in).

>>2361183
Could you give a few more details on exactly what Circe knows about these wraiths? I'd like to know what we DON'T want to do if we want to avoid an Earth-Shattering-Kaboom.

>>2361183
>Get our of the house, and take the sleeping man with you

Several wraiths is probably more than we can handle

>>2361183
>Stay put and try to avoid the wraiths if they approach. Try to observe what they do to Neull. If the get to close to him, we will have to intervene.
>What could they be attracted to? Consciousness? Sleep, or maybe dreams?

They only show up when he's asleep after all.

>>2361200
From what you know—which means you haven’t actually ever tested this for yourself—wraiths are similar to giant flying orbs of water. Scatter them enough, and they’ll be unable to rejoin themselves before being swept away in the natural flow of aether. If you’re in an area devoid of aether, that means a wraith will never truly die.

They grow in size and intelligence by assimilating life and breaking them down. The larger they are, the faster they can do it. The wraiths you see will most likely leave harsh burns upon touch, and with prolonged contact, complete disintegration. If you scatter a wraith and it gets all over you, you better hope it doesn’t reform quickly.

Their movement is based on their context. If they are like Tide, then it would travel from liquid to liquid with ease, but on any other medium, they would be slow. You have no idea what these wraiths are like.

>>2361232
He said this business with the wraiths began “a few nights after”, but it wasn’t quite clear as to what he meant by that. It was either after he moved in, or after his wife passed away. Assuming it’s the passing of his wife, I wonder if they’re drawn to grief or despair or something.

>>2361206
Get out

>>2361228
Stay still and observe

If there's no tiebreaker in 5, I'll roll a dice.

Actually, I think there's a way to combine them.

Writing!

File: 53240361_p0 edit.png (317 KB, 500x683)

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You have a terrible feeling. Whatever these wraiths are, they came from somewhere hidden. The number of eidolons is finite; Solaria, Luna, and Gaia are the celestial bodies that allow for life, and from them split three smaller bodies, Gale, Tide, Loam, and Igni. They’re all beings of aether that favor an aspect of the world, and yet...

Despair? Grief? Nuell told you that the began a few nights after, but his wife’s passing happened before him moving here. Perhaps the conditions of the slum finally got to him.

It could be something else. Sleep, or consciousness perhaps. A wraith that’s drawn to slumber. It would make sense then, why they would only come out when he falls asleep.

Still, it doesn’t add up. Wraiths are drawn to something physical. The idea of an eidolon based on something emotional is completely new, and yet it doesn’t seem too far off. If these wraiths were to grow larger and larger, will something like that become real?

There’s a feeling that they give off, something familiar, as if this wasn’t the first time you’ve seen something akin to it.

While you are deep in thought, Touryn had been standing still the entire time, careful not to make any sudden motions lest he provokes them. He says, “You have a plan, right?”

“Me?” you say.

“No, I’m talking to Nuell—Yes, you!”

The wraiths begin to draw closer. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was because of the commotion. Suddenly, you remember. Turning around, you find Nuell in a deep sleep. You can’t just leave him here.

You put your hands on him, and then the wraiths suddenly move. Bubbling, the swirling vortexes of aether begin to fly toward the two of you. You jump back, pulling the emaciated man with you. The wraiths splash onto the wall and disappear through the gaps.

You notice two things. First of all, Nuell is incredibly light, so much so that you almost fall over backwards when you overestimate his weight. Second of all, he’s the heaviest sleeper you have ever seen. He makes some mumbling sounds as he leans backward on you, and it’s then that you notice that underneath his shirt, something is glowing. Worriedly, you glance around.

Touryn doesn’t even try cutting the wraith. Instead, he just sidesteps out of the way. There isn’t all that much room to maneuver, but it’s not as if the wraiths are particularly fast.

One of them begins to reform right above you. Grimacing, you tighten your grip on sleeping man. No, forget sleeping. You wonder if he’s just plain unconscious.

Range: 12-19 (Easy/Medium)
Please roll 1d30.

>Get out.
>Try something else. (Write-in).

Rolled 17 (1d30)

>>2361325
>Get out

I think they might be trying to absorb this weak old man to become more powerful.

Rolled 13 (1d30)

>>2361325
>Get out.
>check out the glowey thing. Is that what they're after?

>>2361334
Get out

>>2361343
Get out and investigate

That's also a 15, which means success.

Writing!

Actually, I'm starving. Sorry, but I'll be back in 15-20

You freeze.

Grabbing his shoulders, you pivot on your foot, swinging him around. You use that momentum to fling both of you to the door as you open it as fast as you can. Stumbling onto the streets and almost falling down, you turn around to see the wraith had dropped down and missed the both of you. It leaps at Touryn, who slices it in half as he steps out of the way. The swordsman runs out the door right after, and upon turning around, he sees what you see: the wraiths trying to leak out of the walls but failing to, as if they were held back by something.

Nuell groans as he wakes up, and you immediately go for whatever was glowing on his chest. Upon pulling it off him, you find that you are looking at a necklace with a beautiful blue gem. At a glance, you can tell it’s worth more than everything inside the house, including the coins.

His eyes widen as he sees what you’re holding. He lunges for it. “Give that back!” You step away out of fear and surprise, and he looks at you, frustrated. “What are you doing?” Nuell’s expression changes as he notices that he’s outside. When you look at the house with him, you see that the wraiths have become translucent, fading away by the second.

Looking down at the necklace, you see the stone’s glow also had begun to fade away. Grabbing it, you walk back into the house, sighing. “That probably could’ve been handled better, but now I know.”

Nuell follows you inside, and Touryn enters last, shutting the door behind him. The swordsman looks confused, while Nuell says to you, “Give that back. You can have anything, not that! It’s the only thing I have to remember her!”

“Let me explain,” you say. Grabbing the lamp on Nuell’s drawer, you bring it up close to the necklace. Turning it around slowly, you watch as the light hits it at odd angles. There, just barely, the engravings can be seen. Someone had engraved spell circles into the damned thing, which is shocking since runes would be much simpler. It’s ridiculously precise and intricate, which makes you doubt it was even done by hand. “This is what is making the wraiths. I don’t understand why, but it’s drawn so that it only activates when the wearer goes to sleep.” Nuell is about to say something, but you interrupt. “I can’t actually read it, but any idiot can guess this much. That’s why they followed you even after you tried to go to an inn.”

He asks, “Then why did they only show up when I came here?!”

You lower the lamp, thinking. “The church.”

“...What?”

Touryn says, “Oh, that. There used to be a church near the slums and the southern gate, apparently.”

“They don’t just build churches out of nowhere. It’s usually at points of high aether flow,” you say, “The runoff must’ve supplied this with aether again...”

“But... why?” he says, “Why would she leave this behind for me?!”

Confused, he stares at you for an answer.
>”You would know better than me.”
>”...To haunt you, I guess.”
>”To make sure you’re safe... maybe?”
>Write-in.

>>2361476
>”You would know better than me.”

>>2361476
>”You would know better than me.”
>"Who was your wife, exactly? It would take someone of exceptional skill to make this necklace and inscribe the circles, and quite frankly it's far more valuable than someone of your means could afford."

>>2361484
He'd know better

>>2361507
He'd know better, but who is she anyways?

Writing

“You would know better than me,” you say, “I’m sure you’ll know what she meant when she gave you this.”

You offer him a smile, which hopefully isn’t going toward the meaning that his wife hates his guts and wishes his life was a living death. Instead, you’ll believe in him and his ability to hold a wonderful relationship. Full of faith, you hand over the necklace.

He takes it and studies it, unsure. Cased solved, you suppose.

“...I’m not sure...” he mumbles.

“Who was your wife?” you start to say, hesitant. “Not just anyone can inscribe these circles for this necklace. To be frank, the worth of something like this isn’t something to scoff at.”

“She made this herself,” he replies, “She was an enchanter.” He weakly laughs, “I didn’t realize that she did something to it too.” With every word, his spirits seem to pick up again. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but you have a feeling he’ll be alright.

Touryn cuts in, “What was her name?”

“Azalea,” he replies, “Ruthaena was her maiden name.”

“Ruthaena...?” you say, almost gasping.

He shakes his head. “No, not that Ruthaena. She’s no Ristellan royalty, although I’m sure she could pass for it,” he replies, “People often get confused, that’s what she told me.”

“What she told you,” you repeat. “Nuell.”

He finally stops looking at the necklace and faces you again. “What is it?”

“What are you going to do with that?” you reply.

“...I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”

Because...
>Offer to take it off his hands to remove the inscriptions.
>Tell him to take care of it.
>He did say he’ll give you all that he has...
>Write-in.

>>2361604
>Tell him to take care of it.

I wouldn’t rob an old man of something so valuable, especially since it has so much sentimental value to him.

>>2361604
>Offer to take it off his hands to remove the inscriptions.
>We'll return it to hi once we've managed that, but it's dangerous for him and everyone else in the slums if left as is.
>Perhaps Proffessor Mog will have some idea what to do with it.

>>2361623
We might learn something neat if we research the circles. Oh! On that note, I'd like to add an addendum to my vote >>2361623
>Ask if his wife left any sort of nites or records of her work behind, they may help in deciphering the circle's purpose and in removing it.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>2361614
1

>>2361623
>>2361629
2

Writing

“Nuell,” you say, “If you want, we can try to remove the inscriptions.”

“Remove them?”

“We’ll return it to you as soon as we’re done, but right now, it’s dangerous for you and everyone else around you,” you say, “We got lucky today, but it might not always go this way.”

While the necklace is hanging from his hands, he says to you, “Can I trust you?”

“You know where I work, don’t you?” you say, “I’m not going to run away with it.” Giving over it once last look over, he audibly gulps as he slowly hands it over. Offering a smile, you reassure him. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”

“How long will it take?”

“A week, if everything goes smoothly. Maybe more,” you reply. Getting the stone out of the necklace undamaged is the hard part, probably. You’re no enchanter, but your witch knowledge does help. A thought comes to your mind. “Did your wife leave any notes or records of her work behind? It might help—”

“If there were any, they’re gone now,” he says. “I lost everything except this. They probably threw everything out except valuables.”

“They?”

“Debt collectors. Never mind it,” Nuell says, “If you have nothing more to ask...” He doesn’t look like he wants to talk about it at all.

With that serving as the cue for you to leave, you walk out onto the street but not slipping the necklace in your satchel before. There’s a couple of stares, but none linger. Touryn quickly follows behind you, and Nuell stands there, about to close the door.

You say, “You know where to find us.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

He shuts it, leaving the two of you in the slums.

[1/2]

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>>2361683

Inside the professor’s shop, you thoroughly examine the piece of jewelry. The circles were carved on the back of the stone, then it was glued to the frame. Racking your head, you wonder how you can get it out without damaging it.

Peeking over your shoulder, Touryn surprises you. “Is that it?”

“Don’t do that!” Pulling away, you say, “...Yup, this is it.”

“Looks like Sapphire. Now that’s an expensive battery,” he says.

“Don’t call it that,” you say, “I don’t think it was meant to be one. I don’t know too much about it, but it’s a bad idea to draw circles on gemstones. We witches use runes because the meaning can’t be misinterpreted. Unlike runes, there’s no way of knowing when one is completed or incomplete.”

Gemstones naturally retain aether, making them useful for collecting it.

“Thanks for the lecture, professor,” he says, backing away. He puts a hand on the pommel of his sword, “Aquamarine works just fine for me.”

“You’re not summoning wraiths,” you say. “And speaking of professors, when is he coming back?” The bell on the door rings, and you think you might have just the most ridiculous luck. Getting up, you exit the workshop to find Syrup with a bunch of papers in her hands. From the handwriting, you could tell she had copied down what she found.

She puts them on the counter and says, “I found you.”

“Syrup!” you say, “How did it go?”

Touryn asks, “Did you get lost?”

“Okay, and a little,” she replies. “I know why I wanted to eat the book now.”

“...Did you now?” Touryn says. You don’t have to see the look on his face to know he’s wondering what was wrong with her.

The herbalist, parting the papers, separates all but one. She points to it. On the picture, there’s a crudely drawn picture of a tall, thin plant. There’s a couple of leaves that occasionally stick out in seemingly random intervals. “It’s asera. I don’t know how they got it... so flat and big, but it’s asera.”

You blankly look at her. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a plant that grows in Whitebloom,” the girl answers. She moves some more papers around until she finds the one she’s looking for.

“Wait,” Touryn says, “You’ve been there?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t swim.”

You say, “I don’t think anyone expects you to swim there...”

“But I saw the island. Someone on a boat bought it over. They said I shouldn’t eat it, but it tasted good.”

“You... you should probably listen to them,” you say.

[2/3]

>>2361725
Touryn just sighs. “So, what about this asera?”

Syrup turns to him and says, “It catches aether, like a gemstone.”

“Oh!” you say, realizing what she meant. “The book itself was the source!”

The swordsman scratches his head. “What’s with everyone engraving on their sources?”

You say, “Thanks, Syrup, now we know what to do!” She smiles brightly, or at least her version of brightly anyways.

Touryn asks you, “...Do we?”

“All we have to do is empty the book of aether, and then the runes won’t activate.”

“And how do we do that?”

You blink. “...” A pause. “...I don’t know.”

Syrup says, “A giant bird?”

“Oh, right. We can ask Professor Mog about this. And maybe he’ll know what to do with the ring too,” you say.

She tugs at your arm, and then she points at the door. “No, there’s a giant bird here.”

The bell rings, and a giant bird walks in. Oh.

Professor Mog briefly looks at you before he turns around and locks the door. Flipping the sign back to “CLOSED”, he brings the curtains over the side windows and the small one on the door. “You mustn’t tell anyone about this, do you hear me?” he says, double checking if the door is locked or if anyone’s looking. He turns around and stops when he sees Syrup. “Er...”

You quickly say, “She, uh, is working with us from now on. She’s not a customer, so it’s okay.” Or so you think.

The professor looks at Touryn, who says nothing. Hesitantly, he nods. Professor Mog, seemingly accepting this, introduces himself. “My name is Professor Mog, but just Mog will do fine.”

The herbalist takes off her hat. “Syrup, nice to meet you.”

You aren’t sure if it’s because she’s a bit young or that she’s a new face, but the professor seems to be uncertain about continuing. Nevertheless, he trusts your judgement and says, “Terrible news. Word has yet to reach here, but an old friend, Mitra,” he turns to Touryn, who furrows his brow, “She has brought us news. We must take advantage of the time.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, “Tell us already.”

With his beady crow eyes, he faces you. “Queen Thyra of Aldrose has passed away.”

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Thank you for playing! Sorry if my speed was a little erratic today.
I'm here for any comments, questions, or concerns. Criticism is appreciated, too.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hopelessQM

>>2361738
Thanks for running! Is Syrup (who I presume is book eater) wearing a glove, or is there something special about her hand?

>>2361739
That's a glove. For sure.

>>2361738
Thanks for running, hopeless.