It was not so long ago, you think, that your father sat you down at the table with a serious look, sharpening the family blade with what seemed to you to be an unfair amount of import. "Daughter of mine, I am grown old and feeble." You remember hearing this pronouncement and fearing the worst, that your father was about to tell you he was going to die, but it was not so. "There is a great evil on our country's doorstep, daughter of mine. [[Your sisters|siblings]] went to fight it, but I fear they have fallen in battle. Your training is incomplete, but we have run out of time. I am no longer strong enough to face this evil, and so I pass our [[family's arms|sword]], and this mission, to you." [[Next|Top of the Fortress 2]]You remember your eldest sister, with the flowing blonde hair she refused to cut even though it had been pointed out that long hair tended to be a liability in battle. She laughed at such warnings, and wound her hair in elaborate braids to keep it up and out of her hair. You feel like she probably should've just cut her damn hair and maybe she would still be alive. Your middle sister was the tallest and strongest of the three of you, with close-cropped brown hair and flint-like grey eyes which only came alive when presented by a challenge; be it a fight or a particularly heavy rock. She was only lacking in, you feel, sufficient cunning to stay out of trouble when it came to particularly wily foes. You feel like she probably perished in one of the myriad traps you've heard are scattered throughout the enemy's lands. [[But enough about the dead|Top of the Fortress]]Your family sword, it is said, was forged from the heart of a fallen star and as such is a curiously flexible piece of hardware. The edge has yet to meet a material through which it could not cut if applied with enough force. The handle is unostentatious--this was a sword meant to be used, not displayed on the hearth. The name of your family is inscribed on the cross-grip, more for purposes of identification than celebration. The family shield is of old oak polished and treated until it seems kin to steel. A burnished metal stud protrudes from the center. Many enemies have seen the wrong end of that stud, which is to say any end in close proximity to their body. Your father alone has probably killed half a dozen men with it in his time. You have no family armor, because that would be dumb. It wouldn't fit you anyway. You've got your own boiled leather kit that fits your preference for maneuverability over being able to take a heavy blow. You do wear a chainmail shirt over the leather, though. You're not a rogue, for god's sake. [[Enough reminiscing about your gear, your father was sending you on a quest|Top of the Fortress]]You'd been expecting this day. The very shadows seemed to have been [[growing darker|The Enemy]], and it was long since past the time it would've reasonably taken any sufficiently sturdy adventurer to make it through to the fortress wherein the source of the world's current corruption sat. It seemed increasingly unlikely that your sisters would return, and your father was the sort of person who felt a personal responsibility to keep the world alive. There was, you knew, no use in [[arguing|The Argument]] the point. You would have to go. So it was that you'd set off the very next morning, sword and shield in hand, pack on your back, prepared for what would be a massive journey. Two day's later, you stood atop the Enemy's [[fortress|Top of the Fortress 3]].So little is known of the man in the high fortress beyond the fact that horrible things seem to issue from the high fortress that it's entirely possible he doesn't actually exist and said fortress is just a self-perpetuating engine of terrors. Still, armies all move in the name of the Most High King, and while bureaucracy is impressive enough where that could possibly happen, the few scattered descrpitions of the Most High King match up enough that the existence of a man is fairly probable. All accounts agree he is very tall, and that he moves with a terrifying swiftness in spite of being clad in silver armor that must weigh heavily upon him. His helm seems to be the skull of some great horned demon, and he weilds a warhammer that few men could lift, much less swing with such (allegedly) terrifying force. The stories also have much to say of the sorcerous powers of the Most High King, such that men have been electrocuted by bolts of lighting, or had their very souls ripped from their still-living flesh. Mighty men have fallen to this terrifying apparition, though he has not been seen on the battlefield in years. Not a man you are excited about meeting, that's for certain. [[Yet that's what you have to do, apparently.|Top of the Fortress 2]]"Father, would it not be better for me to finish my training? Is this not a suicide mission?" Your father shakes his head sadly. "Daughter, you know I would not send you if there were any other way. But there is no other way." "Yes, but you are agreeing that this is a suicide mission. I'm going to die out there, alone probably, and the world's going to descend into darkness anyway." A spasm of guilt had passed across your father's face then, and later you would wonder if he knew in his heart this was the truth. His expression softened quickly, however, and he had placed one of his large, scarred hands on your shoulder. "Daughter of mine, you know I would not send you if there was no hope. You have always been the most intelligent of your sisters, and your swordsmanship is equal to my own--perhaps even better than my own. You have lived a charmed life, my daughter, as if Fate has been keeping you safe for a great purpose. This, I believe, is that purpose." You sighed. There was no use arguing with your father when he got to talking about Fate. You wonder if this is the same speech he gave your sisters. [[You agree to the quest|Top of the Fortress 2]] [[You agree to the quest without any intention of actually questing.|World's End]]You'd expected the journey to take months--perhaps even a full year, if you were unlucky--but shortly before crossing the border into the enemy's lands you were accosted by a [[giant eagle|bird ex machina]] who informed you that time was short and frankly, it would be better for everyone if you just killed the Most High King now rather than later. You'd hopped on his back, and a short flight later found yourself deposited on the roof of the fortress. It didn't take long to find an opening to climb down through, and with [[no guards|rules of engagement]] in sight, you'd found your own way to the throne room to see if your target was there. He wasn't. So you found a place to hide, and waited patiently, and now, finally, you seem to have been rewarded. The doors of the throne room swing open, and in walks the Most High King, who is precisely as terrifying as you were led to expect. You're not sure what level of paranoia is required for strutting about the top floor of a seemingly impenitrable fortress in full plate armor is, but he's well at that level. You have a few options now, although none of them seem particularly enticing at the moment. The man's got almost an aura of fear about him that makes it difficult to think. [[Charge in with your best battlecry and hope he's caught off-guard|COMBAT 1]] [[See if you can sneak up behind him quietly and get a stab or two in before he notices you're there|STEALTH 1]] [[Wait a bit and observe the situation some more|WAITING 1]]Your quest never really started. Instead, you headed down to the nearest town and got stinking drunk in a local tavern. You woke up feeling immensely pleased and kicked the two strapping young farmboys (and one barmaid) out of bed, and headed to the next town. Things were pretty rad for about four months. Now, of course, the sun's been veiled from sight and darkness rules the land. You thought about maybe starting your quest now, but the earth chooses that moment to crack open and pour fire and destruction over basically everything, including you. You burn to death, and your father is probably really disappointed in you. [[Start Over|Top of the Fortress]]You were obviously a little miffed that these giant eagles had apparently been watching the whole deal go down for years and done nothing about it. You also might have wondered why the size of the eagle meant it could talk, but hey, you grew up on stories involving weirder and more otherworldly shit than this. The legends of the giant eagles were well known, this stuff was like elementary school levels of knowledge here. Still, you couldn't help but ask (maybe a little angrily) why they'd chosen to stay out of it until now. "We honestly thought you all had this sorted out on your own. I mean, the only reason I'm here now is because the Most High King is set to attempt something so terrible that the whole world will be ripped asunder in four months' time if he is not stopped soon. Seemed like a good time for us to stop relying on you to do it yourselves." "Yes, but you could've saved us a lot of time and grief. I mean I've lost two siblings to this whole mess at least, to say nothing of the mysterious and tragic disappearance of most of the townsfolk I grew up with." "It builds character. Also, our chief can be kind of slow to act. There's a whole parliament of fowl that you have to get through in order to get anything done, but I won't bore you with bird-related politicking. Just be glad I got approval to help you." You weren't really that satisfied with the response, but you felt like this was probably the best answer you were going to get. You climbed on board. [[Back|Top of the Fortress 3]]"If you're a bad enough motherfucker, you can leave all your guards at the front door where they'll actually do some good rather than having some clanking, noisy, possibly-trecherous idiots shadowing your every move." -Teachings of Lord Blackthorn III [[back|Top of the Fortress 3]]With a mighty shout, you charge the Most High King, sword loosed, shield at the ready, reflexes primed for any funny business. The King whirls around with the same terrific speed you've heard tales of and a bolt of shadow flies from his right hand, but so great is your own momentum that you raise your shield and blow right through it. Another bolt flies from his hand, and again your shield deflects it easily. You close the gap between the two of you and aim a blow of your own right at the King's... [[Left Arm|LEFT ARM]] [[Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Left Leg|LEFT LEG]] [[Right Leg|RIGHT LEG]] [[Head|HEAD]] [[Torso|TORSO]]You were always pretty good at sneaking around when the situation called for it, so a stealth attack seems like it's probably the best way forward. If nothing else, you might be able to cause a wound that will give you an advantage in the coming combat, and there's not much better you could ask for. You slide your sword from its well-oiled sheath without a sound and make a silent circuit of the throne room. You keep an eye on the shadows, ensuring yours does not intersect with the Most High King's line of sight. The abundance of pillars to hide behind makes getting close easy, and you begin to cut across the open throne room as quietly as you can. It helps that the footsteps of the king are downright thunderous. You are maybe twenty feet away from the King's back when a rune on his helm suddenly glows red. The king whirls around with surprising speed, sending his enormous hammer flying directly at you. The hammer strikes you squarely in the chest and you feel every rib you possess break. The force of the blow carries you through the air and you land near the main doors, having flown some fifty feet. You try to lever yourself up but the pain is too great and you fall back, gasping for air. Your vision begins to fade as the King strides toward you with footsteps of ill intent. You hope that oblivion finds you quickly. [[Pass out|DRAGGING 1]] [[No wait, I meant some other, less fatal choice|Too Bad]]You decide it is probably best to hang back and survey the situation before you rush into battle. After all, this is the fight that very well could save the world, so there's no use rushing in without knowing your enemy. Currently, you know two things for certain: 1. The Most High King definitely exists. 2. He does indeed have impressive armor and a warhammer. To this knowledge you manage to add the following: 1. His armor is old and tarnished. It's doubtful he's taken some parts of it off for years. You catch a glimpse of the leather padding between plates and it looks to be worn almost all the way through around the arms, which is probably a good place to stick your sword in. 2. The back of his helm has an intricate rune etched into it which you recognize as a rune of warning, so a stealth attack is useless. Good thing you decided to wait and observe a little more. You aren't sure what the radius of such runes are, but you're pretty sure there's a good chance he'll know where you are soon. 3. He's got a slight limp and looks to favor his left side as he strides toward his throne. Perhaps it would be best to attack his right side. 4. He sure doesn't seem that fast to you--he moves as one who is very old and very tired, and there's a melancholic resignation to his walk to the throne. Almost as if he's kind of sick of the whole evil despotic warrior/sorcerer thing. What will you do now? [[Wait some more|WAITING 2]] [[Charge in and finish this|COMBAT 1]]You decide it might be best to be really, REALLY sure that you're ready to fight this guy before you rush in. There is more to learn from watching the Most High King make his way to the throne and you would be a poor excuse for a tactician indeed if you rushed in without all the information. Well, that would be the case anyway if the rune on his helm didn't suddenly glow as he passed your hiding place. His right arm raises and what looks like a bolt of inky shadow races toward you. You make a valient effort to dodge, but it's too late--you are lifted off your feet and flung with horrifying force into the wall. You feel your ribs crack just before your head snaps back and stars burst before your eyes as you make contact. Your body slides down the wall and your vision begins to darken as you watch the Most High King stride toward you, feet striking the floor like the footsteps of your own doom. You've failed. Darkness claims you just before the King reaches your body. [[That could have gone better.|DRAGGING 1]] [[Did I say waiting? I meant attack him.|Too Bad]]Consciousness returns to you slowly, and you decide you preferred when it wasn't there. Your eyes are shut, and you feel as if you are being dragged somewhere roughly. Your chest hurts, and upon further reflection, you determine that everything else hurts as well. You keep your eyes closed and try not to breathe too heavily, because breathing is agonizing at the moment. You hear echoes and feel a chill in the air that suggests you are being dragged somewhere underground. You make a brief effort to wiggle your fingers and are disappointed to note that you can't actually feel them moving. You wonder if you have a spinal injury, if you are going to die crippled in the bowels of this fortress. You very definitely do not want to open your eyes now, because you are afraid to confirm your suspicions that you may have lost an arm. There's a faint voice in your ear now which sounds unusually warm and friendly for a hellish fortress. [[Listen to the voice|VOICE 1]] [[Ignore the voice and open your eyes|DRAGGING 2]]Hey, no going back like that. You made the choice, now live with the consequences. [[At least try to die with some dignity, okay?|DRAGGING 1]]The King's hammer moves swiftly to parry your blow, and the two of you wind up exchanging a series of attacks and counters over the course of the next few moments. You finally manage to score a blow to the shoulder that staggers the king briefly, but your follow-up strike goes wide and glances off his armor. You've drawn first blood, and the two of you circle one another, breaths beginning to come more raggedly than before. If the King is bothered by his wound, he doesn't seem to show it. [[Attack Left Arm|LEFT ARM 2]] [[Attack Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Attack Left Leg|LEFT LEG]] [[Attack Right Leg|RIGHT LEG]] [[Attack Head|HEAD]] [[Attack Torso|TORSO]]You roll to the right and come up swinging a powerful blow under the King's right arm. He screams as your blade shears through the worn leather armor and nearly severs the arm clean off. Staggering forward, the King falls to his knees and your next blow severs his head from his shoulders. Well. That was easier than you expected. You feel pretty good about the way things have played out so far. It's about then you realize nobody really explained what you were supposed to do next--or really how you were meant to now get out of a fortress still full of loyal soldiers, abominations, and other assorted nastiness. What now? [[Loot everything|LOOT]] [[Sit on the throne, just for a laugh|THRONE]] [[Head outside|OUTSIDE THE THRONE ROOM]]Your sword cuts into the armor covering the King's leg and sticks there. You find yourself terribly vulnerable to the swift right cross the King lands on your face and go sprawling awkwardly to the ground. The warhammer crashes down with terrific force, but you manage to roll away in time. The King staggars forward, victim to his own momentum, and you take the opportunity to dash in close and recover your blade. The two of you circle each other, warily. You've survived the first exchange of blows, but caused no damage. What now? [[Attack Left Arm|LEFT ARM]] [[Attack Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Attack Right Leg|RIGHT LEG]] [[Attack Left Leg|LEFT LEG 2]] [[Attack Head|HEAD]] [[Attack Torso|TORSO]] A swipe to the right catches the King off guard, and he barely gets out of the way in time. You've overextended yourself with your swing, however, and fail to press the advantage. The King kicks out and catches your knee and you yelp in pain, but manage to jump backwards and avoid further damage. You'd swear the King is smiling under his helm. It does not make you feel like the fight has gone very well thus far. [[Attack Left Arm|LEFT ARM]] [[Attack Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Attack Left Leg|LEFT LEG]] [[Attack Right Leg|RIGHT LEG 2]] [[Attack Head|HEAD]] [[Attack Torso|TORSO]]You know what? Going right for the head is a pretty dumbass idea, when you stop and think about it. Your swing is almost panicked, and the King easily steps back and laughs--actually laughs--at your shitty attempt at swordplay. Not the best way to make the guy responsible for the inevitable destruction of the world fear you. [[Attack Left Arm|LEFT ARM]] [[Attack Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Attack Left Leg|LEFT LEG]] [[Attack Right Leg|RIGHT LEG]] [[Attack Head|HEAD 2]] [[Attack Torso|TORSO]]A simple enough sweep at the center-mass of the King is even more simply parried. You do some good one-and-two-and-parry-and-thrust sort of exchanges, but it doesn't seem to make a lot of progress. [[Attack Left Arm|LEFT ARM]] [[Attack Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Attack Left Leg|LEFT LEG]] [[Attack Right Leg|RIGHT LEG]] [[Attack Head|HEAD]] [[Attack Torso|TORSO]]For some reason you seem to think you were on to something with that first atack to the left, so you try it again. It works no better the second time, and in fact turns out worse--this time, your sword merely glances off the armor, and the King, somewhat less surprised this time, sends a shadow bolt into your ribs this time instead of a punch. Your body flies into a pillar and slides down awkwardly as you struggle to breathe. Your sword has flown off somewhere you can't see, and you frantically attempt to find it, crawling on the ground as the King advances upon you. [[You feel his hand grab your head and slam you face-first into the floor a few times until you black out.|DRAGGING 1]] You exchange another series of blows with the King, trying to disarm him. The shaft of his hammer sparks against your blade, and the two of you stand straining, strength against strength. It becomes clear to you that a contest of strength is not one you are going to win, however, and you seek to disengage. The King presses his advantage, and now you are falling back under a furious rain of blows. Your family's shield splinters. You stumble. The hammer crushes your ribs, and your vision has already fled before your body hits the ground. [[You looked pretty cool for a moment there, though|DRAGGING 1]]You strip the armor off the Most High King's corpse. Most of it is a little too big for you--the King might have wound up being significantly less powerful than rumor had led you to believe, but he was still a big old bastard--so you make the decision to just take the helm. You can't wear it, but you can sling it on your back and it should still alert you when enemies are nearby. The warhammer's too damn heavy to lift, which is a shame because as far as warhammers go it's a pretty good example of the genre. Not a whole lot else worth taking--there's the King's signet ring, which if nothing else serves as proof of his demise (as if the helm wouldn't). What now? [[Explore the fortress|EXPLORATION]] [[Sit on the throne|THRONE]]You approach the throne, which looks surprisingly comfortable. Your expectations for thrones belonging to evil overlords were more along the lines of a spikier, less-comfortable model, but this throne looks downright plush. You've scarecely sat down when your mind is suddenly filled with the movements and missions of the Most High King's forces. It also occurs to you that you can issue orders to these forces, orders like "hey everyone I killed your God King, run for your pathetic lives." You could also, of course, just take over. It's a tempting thought, isn't it? All those forces at your command, you could have basically anything you wanted. Maybe you'll do that? But no, it's pretty much a given that would just get you killed by some other hero later on down the line. You send a command to your forces to stand down, and decide it's probably time to get out of [[this fortress.|EXPLORATION]]You turn your back on the corpse of the King and his throne, and head for the door. Your footsteps echo eerily through the hall, now empty of any living thing save yourself. It surprises you, now that you think of it, that nobody seems to have heard your fight with the King. Have the upper floors of the fortress really been left so undefended? More importantly, where the hell is that [[stupid eagle?|Whoops]] You don't exactly relish the thought of fighting your way out of the fortress after having gone through all the trouble of defeating the commander. Then again, if the eagle's not showing up, perhaps some further exploration is in order. [[Explore further|EXPLORATION]] [[Go sit on the throne|THRONE]] [[Loot the room|LOOT]]Another swipe at the leg produces more favorable results--you can't penetrate the armor, but you do manage to catch the back of the King's knee and send him toppling over. His neck is exposed. You should probably take advantage of that. [[Attack Left Arm|LEFT ARM 2]] [[Attack Right Arm|RIGHT ARM]] [[Attack Left Leg|LEFT LEG]] [[Attack Right Leg|RIGHT LEG]] [[Attack Head|HEAD 3]] [[Attack Torso|TORSO]]Your sword cuts through the King's neck like a hot knife through butter, or something similar to that. The King's head bounces off the floor with a satisfying thud. You have successfully defeated the Most High King! That was probably a lot easier than it should have been. But what in the world are you supposed to do now? [[Loot everything|LOOT]] [[Sit on the throne, just for a laugh|THRONE]] [[Head outside|OUTSIDE THE THRONE ROOM]]Your second attempt goes no better than your first attempt, and could arguably be said to go worse--certainly the way the King's warhammer crushes your ribs and sends you sliding across the floor is one of the less-ideal outcomes you'd envisioned. [[Darkness takes you|DRAGGING 1]].The majestic, enormous eagle had dropped you on the top of the tower and wheeled around to begin a stately patrol of the area. Unfortunately, it also saw its reflection in a window and ran into it, thinking it had found a foe. It's out cold in the courtyard, having somehow failed to be discovered by any of the fortress guards so far, but it'll probably wind up some goblin's dinner if you don't find it first. [[Back|OUTSIDE THE THRONE ROOM]]There is, of course, quite a lot of fortress to explore, and the aforementioned fortress is crawling with enemies. If you were smart, you looted the room first, and got some of the sorts of things which one might find useful in your explorations, although you can probably survive okay without them. That helm, though? That's gonna be super-useful. Unfortunately, this is just an experimental piece, which means this is as far as we go for now. But hey, maybe you made it here first try and need to see what else can happen? I suggest you head back to the [[beginning|Top of the Fortress]] and play through again. Or nag me about expanding/continuing this branch. It can't hurt. "Here's an interesting one, sister of mine. See how she's armored? I think someone tried to take a crack at the King. Pity it didn't work out well for her." The voice whispers, echoing off the walls. "Do you think he's going to try to use her, too?" A second voice makes itself known. While it too speaks in whispers, it seems far less sad and far more annoyed. "Of course he's going to try to use her. Does he bring anyone down here for any other reason? He's not going to heal her up and let her leave, now is he?" "Maybe he had a change of heart at last, and that's exactly what he's going to do!" The first voice sounds hopeful for a moment, before emitting a heavy sigh. "No, you're probably right. She's nearly spent, anyway." "Already halfway there, if you ask me." There is a pause. "You don't think she can hear us, do you?" [[Next|VOICE 2]]You try to ignore the whispering and instead focus on your immediate situation. You are being dragged down a hallway, and you cannot seem to move your hand. You try wiggling a foot, and that goes a little better, but it also hurts a lot and you gasp in spite of yourself. Whoever is dragging you doesn't stop, or even seem to register that you've made a noise. Deciding there's nothing else for it, you open your eyes. Or more accurately, you open one of your eyes. The other doesn't seem to be working at the moment. You hope it's just swollen and you won't need to go eyepatch shopping after this. You hope you get the opportunity to go eyepatch shopping after this. You are indeed in what is clearly a subterranian hallway. Moss clings to the stone walls and guttering torches begrudgingly bestow illumination. The ceiling is dark, the floor is more stonework, and a massive hand is firmly grasping your shoulder and dragging you down the hallway. You recognize it as the King's hand. Both your arms are still attached to your body, but your right arm looks pretty rough at the moment and is probably broken. Your family's sword is nowhere to be seen, nor is your shield. You are, at least, still in your armor, which is something. You cannot see the source of the voice you heard earlier, but suddenly you hear it again, louder this time. "Hey you! Can you hear me?" [[Answer|CONVERSATION 1]] [[Ignore|DRAGGING 3]]The first voice brightens considerably. "Oh, but that would be wonderful! If she's already that far along, then maybe we could make a plan, and, I don't know... do something good for once!" Surprisingly, the second voice also sounds slightly less dour. "That's not a bad idea, actually... I think with three of us we might actually stand a chance. We don't have a lot of time to find out, though--we're already halfway there, and if she's not a fast learner..." "Oh, but I'm sure she will be! She got all the way up to the throne room and fought the King herself! That's pretty impressive, even if she didn't manage to off him." "She's not the first, if you'll recall." "Yes, but you couldn't hear me until it was too late. It wasn't your fault!" "Hmmph. Well, at any rate we'd better talk to this girl quick, before it's too late." The second, more dour voice sounds closer to your ear. "Hey, lady. Can you hear me?" [[Respond|CONVERSATION 1]] [[Ignore them|DRAGGING 3]]You tentatively open your eyes and are surprised to see two women ambling down the hallway with you. One has long black hair, the other has close-cropped silver hair, and both seem to be a little more transparent than people normally are. Come to think of it, you are feeling a little floaty yourself. You [[introduce yourself|ER, HI]] and the two excitedly [[explain their plan|THE PLAN]] in the time you have before the King finishes dragging you to do [[whatever it is he's got planned.|THE UNPLEASANTNESS]] "Are you sure you know what you need to do? It's a little...complicated, I know." Branwen seems to be fretting, which is, you think, not really filling you with a lot of confidence. "If she's not, we're stuck here until someone else comes along, I guess." Goewin shrugs. "Hopefully it won't take too long." "And we'll have three people to plan next time anyway!" "Not really--if this doesn't go right, I think she's probably going to end up destroyed, you know? It's what happened to the others." Branwen's face falls. "Oh yeah, that's true. Your spirit will be completely burned up into nothing." She brightens up again. "But that won't happen, so don't worry about it!" [[Next|SHOWDOWN]]You ignore the voice. It doesn't seem entirely pleased about this. "Hey, come on. I'm trying to help! My sister and I, I mean. We're trying to help you. Hey!" You loll your head to one side to make it look like you've lost consciousness. A second, angrier voice pipes up. "She's pretending. Come on lady, if you help us we might all get to leave here with our... well, we might all get to leave here, anyway." A sharp slap across your face snaps your eyes open, and you see the speakers. [[Next|SLAPPED 1]]"Yes I can uh... I can hear you just fine, apparently." Your own voice seems thin and a bit less strong than you remember. The long-haired one claps her hands together excitedly and beams happily at you. "Fantastic! I'm Branwen, and this is my sister Goewin. It's nice to meet you!" Goewin gives you a half-smile and a wave. "Sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances. I'm usually less transparent than this. Or I was, once upon a time." "Are you ghosts, then?" The question's out of your mouth before you realize that might be considered to be a bit rude. "Sorry I just... I can see through you both, and that generally means ghosts." Goewin waves off the question airily. "Nah, you're fine. We're not ghosts, really. I think the technical term is revenant? We got severed from our mortal bodies by some seriously bad magics, and are sort of doomed to wander the earth until world's ending. It wasn't in the King's plan, but he's kind of stuck with us now." She spits at the back of the King, who seems to be ignoring the whole thing. "For all the good that's done." [[Next|ER, HI 2]]"So how exactly are we supposed to stop all this from happening? I don't think I'm exactly in fighting form at the moment." Branwen smiles reassuringly. "You're not in much of any form at the moment, but that's okay. You'll be fine when the time comes." Goewin's smile is less reassuring. "Well, for a given definition of 'fine,' anyway. You're going to have to let part of the ritual take place. The uh... the part where your soul gets ripped out of your body." "Don't worry! It'll only be out temporarily!" "Right. Once your soul's out, you'll be able to join it to ours, and the resulting energy surge should fry our dear host's brain. Um, assuming I've got it all calculated correctly." "And she does! She's had the better part of a hundred years, I think!" "Wait a minute," you interject, "you've been trapped here for a hundred years?" The short-haired Goewin shrugs. "Or thereabouts. I personally lost track around year sixty, but Branwen's always had a better sense of time than me." "And anyway, today will mark the end of our long confinement!" Branwen claps her hands together excitedly. Goewin's muttered "I hope" goes unremarked upon. The King suddenly stops, and if you could look over your shoulder you would see a large metal door in front of him. Branwen gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder and whispers that it will be fine. The door opens at some spoken command from the King, and you are dragged into the laboratory/ritual area/whatever the hell. It is a large circular room with a domed ceiling. A series of what look like copper stills line the walls, and you shudder to think of how many souls it must have taken to fill them all. Goewin frowns, unhappy to be back in the room, and Branwen doesn't look much happier. The King is talking to you, but you have no desire to really listen to whatever he's saying. He seems to be trying to reassure you that this is a necessary sacrifice, that your death will be worth it, the sorts of things that people have said to victims since time immemorial. You've heard it before, even if you didn't realize it. When the ritual begins, you're surprised by how unimpressive it is. Some candles, some bright flashes of light, some chanting. The King conjures a glowing knife, and uses it to pull you out of your body. It's agonizing, and you think for a moment you're going to black out, but spirits can't black out. You scream, in spite of knowing this was going to happen, and if not for Branwen and Goewin's shouted instructions you would be completely lost. [[Next|SHOWDOWN 2]]"See, we're sort of the King's early experiments." Branwen explains helpfully. "He didn't have his whole...[[soul flaying thing|THE UNPLEASANTNESS]] down to a science, yet, so he only managed to rip us out, rather than consume us. That means we survived, sort of, only we're kind of bound to this fortress by his will." "Meaning you can't get out and, I presume, find peace or something like that?" "Oh no, there's no great beyond for my sister and I," Goewin interjects gloomily. "But we'd actually be able to wander the earth, and grow our powers so we could at the very least help people." "How so?" "Revenants can strike fear in the hearts of the wicked, and we have the power to interact with the physical world as well--or we would, if the King hadn't siphoned off some of our powers before the ritual failed." "But if he dies, the power should return to us! Er, in theory." Branwen explains. [["Huh."|CONVERSATION 1]]"So what exactly is he planning to do to me?" You finally ask, worry creeping into your voice. You'd heard what happened to your ghostly companions already, but they don't seem to think you're going to share their fate. "Well..." Branwen seems uncomfortable going into detail. "It's sort of like..." "The King's trying to bring back someone he lost who, in my opinion, is better off staying lost. To bring them back, he needs to rip their soul from the great beyond, and to do THAT, he needs to have a lot of energy. It just so happens that souls contain the exact sort of energy he needs, so he's been taking it from strong-willed individuals--that would be you, dear--and storing it in these huge tanks." Goewin has no such compunctions about filling you in on the details. "So basically, he's going to rip your soul from your still-living body and flay every last bit of uniqueness from it--all the stuff that makes you, you--and store it in a tank. Depending on how strong-willed you are, it might be enough to finally kick off the final spell, which has a pretty decent chance of backfiring horribly, releasing an enormous explosion of spiritual energy, and cracking the world in two." She pauses for a moment to let it all sink in. "My sister and I would prefer it if that didn't happen." "Me too.""Ow! You slapped me!" The indignity of being slapped across the face briefly stops you from focusing on what your eyes are seeing. Namely, your slapper (a willowy, semi-transparent woman with a boyish haircut and silver hair) and her companion (a slightly bulkier, semi-transparent woman with long black hair). "Yes, I slapped you. We don't have time for you getting all 'this can't be happening' on us, okay? Time's short and frankly I'd prefer to have something go right for a change." The short-haired one seems fairly impatient. "Forgive my sister, it's been a long time since we had a good chance of escape and she's behaving rather inappropriately. My name's Branwen, and this is my sister Goewin. We think we can help you with your problem." "Meaning your impending demise, and possibly the end of the world." "Yes, that." Branwen seems slightly annoyed at having been interrupted. "The King is going to try to perform [[a ritual|THE UNPLEASANTNESS]] on you. We can help disrupt that ritual." "Thus killing the King and freeing us from our own captivity." [[Next|SLAPPED 2]]"Wait, aren't you both ghosts? I didn't think ghosts could be trapped anywhere." Goewin sniffs, slightly offended by your question. "We're not ghosts. Ghosts are just bits of people wandering around lost. My sister and I are what would technically be called revenants--we kept our minds completely intact and have the power to interact with the physical world, bring terror into the hearts of the wicked, that sort of thing. Or we would, if the King hadn't siphoned off most of our energy." "But you <i>slapped</i> me." You say, frowning a little. "Doesn't that mean you can still interact with the physical world?" Branwen gives you a sad smile. "Oh, sweetie. No. My sister was able to slap you because you're already halfway out of your body. Why do you think the King hasn't heard our conversation?" A horrible weight settles into your gut and you realize you're mostly dead. "Well, that's a nasty shock." Goewin seems to feel pity after seeing your expression of dismay and tries to reassure you. "Look, don't worry about it. If [[the plan|THE PLAN]] goes well, the resulting surge should knit your body back together." You are uncertain as to whether or not she's serious, but decide to be optimistic for once. After all, the day couldn't really get much worse. [[Next|SHOWDOWN]]You grip tightly to Branwen and Goewin's arms, and the King seems to sense that something is going wrong. The pace of his chanting increases, and you can feel a terrible sort of <i>unraveling</i> feeling, like everything in you is being stripped away. The sisters start to chant on their own, and the unraveling feeling stops, reverses, and now it begins to feel like things are being added, rather than subtracted. "I think it's working!" Branwen shouts, and suddenly you feel confident. The power surging through you begins to flow back into the King, who staggers backwards. You see blood running from under his helm, and his chanting falters. The sister's chanting increases in volume, and you feel even more power surging through you. The King screams and collapses to the floor, twitching. The scent of cooked meat fills the room, and you feel a tug on your feet, like something is pulling you down. You land in your body with a thud, and are pleased to note that this time you seem to be able to move your arms. Your chest still hurts like hell, and there's still some wounds that need tending to, but you seem to be considerably less dead than you were several minutes ago. [["Ow."|AFTERMATH]] Your comment echoes in the room, dissipating into a profound silence. You look around the room a little and are somewhat depressed that Branwen and Goewin don't appear to be anywhere. It is possible, you think, that the two sacrificed themselves in order to kill the King. It is also possible, you think, that the two weren't revenants after all and were more run of the mill ghosts, who, having completed their unfinished business, left the mortal plane completely. Either way it makes you feel sad and alone to not have them around. After all, they'd made it possible for you to stay alive, and even kill the King in the bargain. That's pretty good for a day's work. Of course, now you have no idea what in the world to do with yourself. You're still pretty wounded, and you're alone, and you have no idea where in the fortress you are beyond probably somewhere subterranian. Added to that, you're pretty certain the foretress has got to be crawling with forces loyal to the King, who is still smoking slightly on the floor nearby. Time to [[get out of the fortress|ESCAPE]], you guess.You move slowly down the hallway in which you'd had your conversation with the ghostly sisters, taking care not to make too much noise. As you round a corner, you spy two armored figures and curse silently to yourself for having neglected to find a weapon. Your only options are to return down the hall or to see if there's a way to sneak by. There's nothing the way you came, so really your only option is to press forward. You flatten yourself against the wall and begin to shuffle down the hallway, hoping to at least remain out of sight for long enough to think up a better plan. One of the armored figures looks sharply in your direction, then begins to jump up and down and wave excitedly. "Hey, you made it! Sorry, we got a little lost after everything happened. Do you like our new kit?" The helm is removed and Branwen's grinning face greets you. "I think Goewin's armor looks cooler than mine, but I'm pretty pleased with what I got anyway." "My armor is definitely better than yours." Goewin says, removing her own helm as well. She looks at you with something approaching fondness and smiles. "Glad to see you made it out [[okay.|ESCAPE 2]]" "Yeah, my ribs still feel like they might be broken, but I'm otherwise okay, I think." "I can help with that! Er, I think!" Branwen places an armored hand on your ribs and mutters a few words under her breath. There's a faint glow and the pain in your chest lessens, then vanishes. Branwen beams. "I guess the magic we knew as humans works as revenants. That's useful." "I'd say so." You pause, considering your next question carefully. "I don't suppose you two know the way out of here, do you?" "As a matter of fact, we do." Goewin seems terribly pleased with herself. "We would've left already, but it hardly seemed right to leave you here, you know?" "Goewin insisted." "As if you would have let us leave." Snorts Goewin. "Anyway, we'd like to offer our services as guides and, I suppose, protection against the various perils still present in this stupid fortress." "Well, far be it from me to turn down such a generous offer." You say, feeling relieved. The three of you set off down the hallway together. It's at this point the story ends, for now. This was just an experiment, after all, and going back and tweaking everything would take more forethought than I've given this project initially. There's more to tell with this, or maybe the idea works better in some other form? I don't know, and I don't have the programming finesse to explore that either, so it's just this for now. If you haven't yet, I suggest heading [[back to the beginning|Top of the Fortress]] to see the other possibilities. Or nag me about continuing this one, I don't know.