Epilogue

Quick footsteps on polished marble. Soldiers with solemn looks salute your arrival. They dare not move from their post—long lines forming a path to the Royal Chambers. There are whispers of unrest, again. You have been summoned to ensure they don’t transform into endless, searing cries in the night, like they did before. “Your Majesty.” “Terrance. We have been waiting for you.” You raise your head. “I’m afraid the kingdom requires your strength, once again.” You can’t help but let the tiniest smile escape the corners of your lips. “There are stories of…beasts…in the Northern Plateaus.” “The Chicerians? Have they returned?” “We do not know.” Her knuckles whiten around her crystal scepter. “But we cannot allow them to gain influence. We must act swiftly. If this is indeed another Chicerian uprising, there is no time to spare.” You get to your feet, clutch the hilt of your sword, and wait for her orders. “Go now, Terrance. Before the coming tide has risen too high.” Immediately you turn on your heel, chest filled with the promise of adventure. “That doesn’t mean I have forgotten about your lack of response to my messenger hawks.” You wince. Then clean your expression before turning around. “I, uh, think they must have gotten lost in the Sail Winds or something…” The Queen doesn’t buy it. “Sure, they did.” “Mother, I—” “Just make sure you report the status of your quest this time. It is of dire importance.” “Of course.” She freezes your bones with that skeptical stare of hers. You turn again to leave. A guard looks away to conceal his snicker. You nonchalantly elbow [him]<cl1| in the stomach on your way out to the [[Castle Gates.]] (click-replace: ?cl1)[his punk ass] (click-replace: ?cl1)[his useless ass]

The sun stings your eyes when you leave the castle. You look around for any witnesses, then decide to dance a few seconds of the [[Helmthorn Shake]]. “Woo! Adventure,” you sing. “Adventure/Going on another adven~ture!” Three cloaked figures watch your irreverent celebration from a castle tower far above your head. “This was a mistake,” states one, shaking her head. “That may be,” says another. “But orders are orders.” You hit your Storm Slide. “Was he always this ridiculous?” The other two tilt their heads to one side in contemplation, then nod. “Yeah.” “You don’t remember the [[Bloody Marshes]]?” “I try not to.” After the dance spell has run its course, you decide on your path to the Northern Plateaus. There is the path through the [[Whining Woods]]. The tunnel through the [[Caves of Remorse]]. Or the road through the [[Shimmering City]].

The Whining Woods—a trail thick with underbrush and overgrown with prying branches. You set your foot deeper into the forest, pushing your boots through heavy vines. The only sounds are your labored breathing and the crashing of your frame piercing the fighting fauna. Your mission floats to the front of your mind. You must make haste. Time is only bolstering the band of beasts wreaking havoc on the North. You decide to make your own path through these wretched woods. Use your Inferno’s Fury spell to sear a path. Throwing your blade into the dark earth below, you align your thumbs and whisper the incantation that hasn’t escaped your lips in ages. You open your eyes, steel your gaze upon the trees in front of you, and yell, “Inferno’s Fury!!” Immediately a twisting pyre lashes from your palms, razing the brush into a smoldering tunnel stretching for yards ahead. You breathe and reclaim your sword, starting back on the newly opened trail. “Owwww….” What was that? You look around. But you find no one. You’re still alone in the forest. “That really hurt, you know!” Your eyes dart around your vicinity, “Who’s there? Are you hurt??” “I just told you I’m hurt!!” “I’m sorry, I thought…I thought my surroundings were clear…” “This is gonna take FOREVER to heal!!” “If you’ll show yourself I have some potion to treat you…” you strain your eyes in every direction searching for movement. “You’re looking right at me.” “Unless you’re invisible, I don’t see you. I mean, if you were invisible that would make sense, because, you know, you’re invisible—I’m not supposed to see you. If I saw you and you were invisible that would make you really bad at being invis—look, my point is there’s nobody around.” “You humans are always so dense. If it doesn’t look like you, you don’t care what you do to it.” “Wait, you can’t be the—” You look up. The branches of the trees twist themselves into a thin face and scowl down at you. “Oh, now you figure it out. Isn’t that convenient.” “I…I’m sorry?” “‘Sorry’ isn’t gonna regrow these eaves, you monster.” “I’ll, uh, I’ll use some ice magic and cool you down!” You close your eyes and align your thumbs, again. “Ripping Blizzard!” “Ouch!! Stop! Stop it!! Chicerian’s crotch, STOP IT!!” The face above squirms with pain. “I thought this would—” “No!” hollers the woods. “You’ve had enough thoughts for today. Just…just leave.” “I apologize,” you bow your head. “I’m on my way to the Northern Plateaus to fight a resurgent evil. I have no time to spare.” “Whatever, man.” “I’m going to have to walk over the…” you motion to the now icy trail. A sigh ripples through the trees. “Be quick about it.” You take a few, hesitant steps. The face contorts into a grimace. “Had to go all fire magic, didn’t you.” Your boots crack a frozen root. Suddenly the face in the branches mirrors your own, “‘Oh, I’m mildly inconvenienced, better burn the whole goddamn forest down.’” You trudge a few more steps. The face follows you. “‘Look at me. I’m Mister Hero. If it’s not about my quest to save the status quo it can all burn to Brevenwort for all I care.’” Hanging your head, you continue. The face hovers closer. “‘Who gives a streaker turd about the environment. I’ve got a sword. Look,’” the face crafts an imitation sword out of its broken branches, “‘this means I get to wreck the beauty of nature for future generations with perfect impunity. Wee-hee!’” “I said I’m sorry.” “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my limbs crumbling under your callous boots.” You shake your head, keep walking. But really your conscience is the only thing stopping you from razing the rest of the Whining Woods to the [[silent ground|Bandits]].

The mouth of the Caves of Remorse gapes open before you. Moss covers old stones that lie lazy in the afternoon light, guiding you into their cool depths. “One of Bryn’s illumination spells would be real useful right about now,” you say. You creep forward with your hands splayed in front of you. A quick ticking sound. You instinctively grasp your blade. Something whisks past your leg. More clicking, like a thousand sharp legs against wet rocks. You strain your eyes on the area around your feet, only to find your most dreaded foe (spiders). Spiders!! Hundreds of black spiders the size of your hand rush around you, crawling over your boots. [Swipe to get them off!]<getOff| [Get it off!]<getOff2| [Bloody Brevenwort get it off!!]<getOff3| [You can't reach it!!]<getOff4| [Quick!! THROW IT OFF!!]<getOff5| [[You take a few breaths in recovery from your trauma, when something catches your attention.|Confirmation Bias]] (mouseover: ?getOff)[ (replace: ?getOff)[One's on your arm!!] ] (mouseover: ?getOff2)[(replace: ?getOff2)[Another one is on your leg!!] ] (mouseover: ?getOff3)[(replace: ?getOff3)[Now there's one on your back!!] ] (mouseover: ?getOff4)[(replace: ?getOff4)[It's crawling to your NECK!!] ] (mouseover: ?getOff5)[(replace: ?getOff5)[You shiver and are mildly successful at restraining the impulse to pee all over yourself.] ]

The dirt road turns to black cobblestone after you enter the gates of the Shimmering City, though not before some well-deserved knight-pounds from the guards. You decide to wrap your face in your poison protector to avoid unwanted attention. It is is even more spectacular than the paintings, you think. Glass and silver glisten from each whimsical spiral atop gently-swaying buildings. The dark, smooth cobblestones cast the sunlight in gentle rainbows under your boots. Your mouth hangs open beneath your protector. “Tourist” someone mutters as he brushes past you. Shop staff call from the flashing windows while waving signs weaved in neon lights. “[[Tyndell]] would love it here,” you say to yourself. You decide to stop into one that catches your eye. The lady out front holds a sign with chocolate dressed in red lace. She cheerfully opens the door for you, [[shoving a coupon in your hand.|Inside the shop]]

Popularized by the restless youth of Helmthorn, a city known for its emphasis on combat sports and lack of trade, the Helmthorn Shake involves rhythmically twisting your arms in your chainmail to create a jingling sound while alternating pointing both of your knees to the left and right. Enthusiasts of the phenomenon will often add jumps and other personalized trappings to lend some individuality to this mode of expression. A phrase often heard is, “If you don’t know the Helmthorn Shake, you must be a Chicerian snake,” pointing to the fact that Chicerians are laughably left-footed.

“‘And their sins shall sink as blood, stinking in the marshes. Under knotted, old sentries, drinking vengeance heartless.’” “You always gotta be so scary, Marla,” you said to her, checking your feet to see if the red marsh will stain your new set of Trinity Armor. “You would do well to know the history of this kingdom, Prince,” she responded. “I have to agree,” chimed Tyndell. “And this is not a place to regard lightly.” He stepped over a rotting log and pushed ahead. “Even the Chicerians know not to linger in these marshes.” Bryn curled her lip, “Then why are we here, again?” “Because, dear child,” Marla explained, “there are are forbidden things in forbidden places. And ours is a quest that must not fail—even if it means damning the world in our wake.” “I see what you mean, Prince,” said Bryn. “She really doesn’t have to be that scary.” Marla waved her staff and froze the marsh into a rusty trail of ice for herself to walk on. You immediately hopped on behind her. “Hey, guys. I’ve been meaning to show you this dance I learned at the last town we were at!” “Can you please control yourself!” Marla admonished. “The marshes are easily—” “Look, real quick. It’s called the ‘Storm Slide’!” You started to shift your heels and toes in rapid succession to give the illusion you were sliding backwards. “Cool, huh??” “Prince, if we anger the marshes they’ll—” “And it always ends with a jump, like this!” You slammed both of your feet into the ice bridge. It gave, throwing you and Marla into the marshes with a resounding splash. The water began to ripple, sending shallow waves centered around the four of you. They got shorter and shorter, resonating to an audible, piercing frequency. “What happens if we anger the marshes, Marla?” Bryn painfully inquired, obviously not wanting to know the answer. “Legend holds that the marshes suck the blood out of your very veins, my dear.” You had to ask, “How might they do that??” “Nobody has lived to tell the tale in a thousand years,” Tyndell called, readying his axe with a smile. “So, I guess we’ll just have to be the first.”

After what seems an eternity, you can make out a band of thieves assaulting a young woman. “So, tell me: Did you get your spectacular sense of entitlement as a quest reward or did it come as part of your Hero Privilege?” “Shh!” You hide behind a tree trunk to survey the situation. “Do they give you a little badge that says ‘Do whatever you want’ when you buy your first broadsword or what?” “I’m trying to see if she needs help.” “You’ve done such a great job with that, today.” You shake your head and continue to evaluate the bandits. They surround her, closing slowly in from all sides. She has her sword drawn, but she seems reluctant to use it. “Give us your gear and we’ll let you go, girly,” says the leader with scruffy facial hair. Then he bares a toothless smile and adds, “Maybe.” The men all grumble and take a step closer. You dash into the fray, smashing two of the bandits’ heads together before standing back-to-back with the woman. "Looks like I'm just in time." You give her your crooked hero smile. "Oh, great warrior!" she exclaims. "Please save me!" You draw your [[Blade of Banishment]]. It's black edge ripples in the sun. The bandits look disheveled and glance at each other. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of a sword headed for your throat and duck at the [[last second|Bandits 2]].

A Cursed Blade so sharp that it shreds even light, it was buried in the Bloody Marshes after its previous wielder was consumed by its terrible power. Only those with a pureness of spirit can check its constant [call for blood.]<blood| (click: ?blood)[ And to think Marla calls you "childish." Nonsense! Were it not for your childlike purity to cut the Chicerians down, where would the world be now, huh? Did they ever think about that? Sure, you like to dance a little at what may be inopportune times. But who doesn't appreciate a side of comedy with their carnage? Bryn was sure into it...in the beginning...]

She swings again, this time [at your chest.]<chest| (click: ?chest)[ You hop back.] “What’s your problem, lady? I’m on your side!” She motions for the bandits standing behind you to attack. One brave soul swings [an iron battle axe.]<axe| (click: ?axe)[You cleave the edge in two with a tender strike from your blade, then kick him in the sternum. He falls and remains motionless.] “For someone so dull you sure do have a sharp sword,” she says. A bearded warrior appears at her side and whispers, “Luciana, I think that’s the Blade of Banishment.” “Sounds like it’ll fetch a nice price.” The other men retreat a pace and assume defensive positions. You twirl your sword and wait for the next challenger, weary of the weapons at your back. “I think that may be—” “What does it matter?” “Hold on, you’re a bandit, too?” you ask. She tosses her braided hair over one shoulder, “Don’t you get it? It’s always hero-types like you that have the best loot. And we happen to be in the business of relieving you of it.” Another stab [at your neck.]<neck| (click: ?neck)[You handily avoid it.] She throws a poison dagger [at your arm.]<arm| (click: ?arm)[You catch it between your fingers.] Now she appears frustrated by your prowess. Was fighting regular people always this easy? “Get him!” she commands her warriors. They mumble and remain out of striking distance. The bearded warrior calls out to her, “That’s Prince Terrance. I’m certain of it!” “There’s no way the prince would be out here alone. He’d most certainly have his knights here with him.” “Yeah,” you tentatively begin, “we kind of had a falling out…” Everyone crinkles their eyebrows [in a shared confusion.]<confused| (click: ?confused)[ “It’s cool, though!” you recover. “I’m fine on my own! I mean, it would be nice to have someone help with cooking and setting up camp and telling lore stories and keeping track of the supplies and a thousand other things that you kind of take for granted when you’re always with your crew. But I’m not lonely or anything! I got it all under control!” An awkward pause follows.] Luciana softly nods her head and pushes her chin out. “Well, then. I, uh, guess we’ll just be getting back to ambushing other heroes…” Your grip tightens around your sword, “You know I can’t let you do that.” The men all hold their breath, waiting for Luciana’s response. “Careful, he’s got this thing where he randomly burns everything around him to the ground if he’s mildly inconvenienced,” chimes the woods. A twiggy face appears above your head. “You didn’t harm Woodward, did you?” she asks. “Oh, don’t worry. He made sure to freeze everything afterwards. Because that won’t make it twice as hard to grow back or anything.” A collective [[groan mulls over the men.|Bandits 3]]

“So, are you…familiar with the area, then?” Luciana doesn’t break her stride, “What do you think?” She whips the branches out of the path with her sheathed sword. “Don’t be too gentle with that club of yours,” Woodward says. “It’s not like those branches are the product of thousands of hours of weaving tender life from the untamed forces of nature.” Another irritated swing from Luciana. “You guys have a camp somewhere?” “We’ll be out of here by dark,” she says. “Off to harm more of the life-giving nature from whence you all were born, no doubt.” “Is he always like this?” “Where do you think this wood got its name from?” “My actual name is Woodward, by the way.” “I don’t know how you deal with this,” you say. Luciana stops and glares at you over her shoulder. “It’s usually not a problem until some idiot comes along and doesn’t know how to read a warning sign.” “Oh, yeah…I usually let [[Marla]] handle all of that…” She turns back around and presses forward. “And where is the Royal Sorceress now?” “Reading some leather-bound tome or something? I don’t know. I’ve been kind of out of touch since…” “Since your wedding with Lady Bryn was called off.” “How did you—” “Even I heard about that, man,” said Woodward. “I guess that explains why you’re alone on your quest, then.” You perk up with an idea, “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to wanna come along with me to the North Plateaus, would you??” “I literally just tried to rob you blind and leave you for dead in the forest.” “Yeah, but, I don’t know, isn’t that how all the cool friendships start? Enemies first and then comrades kind of thing?” A few silent paces sift by before Luciana responds, “We should be at the edge of the wood in couple of hours.” Woodward covered his eyes with two leaves, “Oooh, that had to hurt.” “She didn’t say, ‘No’!” “I think we’re starting to get an idea of why Lady Bryn went back to the [[Meridiopolis]]…” You stomp your boots into the next branch you come across. “And such maturity, too. I can’t imagine why anyone would pass up an opportunity to travel with you.” “Woodward,” warned Luciana. “I’m the one who’s actually been injured here,” says an indignant Woodward. “This barbarian smashed into my depths and then set everything on fire! Do you know what it’s like to have a random sadist destroy your…” You and Luciana trudge onwards, listening to Woodward’s victimized account of the events that took place that day. [An opening peeks from between the trees.]<opening| (click: ?opening)[ “This is as far as I go, Prince.” “I’ll bet he’s heard that line a few more times than he cares to admit.” “I guess I’ll see you around, then,” you wave, however reluctantly. She nods and moves aside to allow you to pass, “Something like that.” Woodward’s face dissolves back into the forest, stifling a snicker. And you step into the fading sunlight illuminating the [[Northern Plateaus]].]

A city locked away on a tropical island, closed to all trade. It is an island of unparalleled beauty, a place rife with secrets. Its borders are sealed shut to protect the Light—an extraordinary ancient magic that serves both death and life. The Keepers of the Light are the Meridios people, said to have protected its power for generations, fearful of it falling into the wrong hands. Bryn is the first person to take its power outside of Meridiopolis’ borders: Such is the severity of the Chicerian threat. Even a secluded island locked away in the ocean will not be spared were the world to burn.

The Plateaus stretch before you in long, grassy plains kissed with an early frost. You gaze at the silver moon sitting serenely on the horizon, like a brief greeting to the setting sun across the expanse of the sky. It all looks…peaceful. That can’t be right, though. The queen said there were whispers of unrest. You remember that all things are not what they appear. The three figures watch your approach from a plateau overlooking yours. “It looks like he’s gotten serious,” one says. “I suppose this is our cue, then,” says another. [[“Prepare yourselves,” the last one says in a low tone.|Battle of the Plateaus]]

Deeper into the darkness you hear a pitiful crying. A purple figure dimly glows in the distance. It appears to be cowering on a rock while the wave of spiders surge past it. You unsheathe your [[Blade of Banishment]], its edge a deeper shade than the darkness around you, and slice the air from over your head to the shifting ground of spiders. A clear path opens as the spiders are sucked into the black vortex created by your blade. Then the ground before you is still. You rush to the huddled, purple figure. The other spiders make a wide arc around your position. They must have learned their lesson, you think. “Are you okay?” you ask to the large, floppy ears covered by trembling paws. It looks up at you with green eyes shimmering in a tearful fright. It jumps onto your arm, digging its small nails into your skin through the gaps in your bracers. “Ouch!” you say. “Hey, little guy. It’s alright now.” You watch the last of the spiders scuttle around you. The prickles on your arm subside. It crawls up to your shoulder to watch the spiders disappear into the daylight, then hops back down onto its rock. You watch it shake its fluffy head until its fur puffs back up. “What kind of creature are you?” you ask. Bryn usually handled these kinds of things, you think. She was always good with the magical creatures. The purple creature hops on its rock two times and then twirls into a humanoid form wearing a long, velvet dress. You can’t believe your eyes. “Br—[[Bryn]]??” The form spins around again, laughing the whole time. “Is it you, Bryn?” No response. Only more giggling in Bryn’s cadence. You realize what’s happened: It’s a shapeshifter. “Happy!” the shapeshifter points at you. “Happy!” “I guess I am a little happy, yes,” you grin. You have an idea, “Look, I have to get to the Northern Plateaus. Can you guide me through these caves?” The shapeshifter turns on its heel and dashes into the [[depths of the Caves of Remorse.|Deeper Still]]

Bryn of the [[Meridios|Meridiopolis]]. Keeper of the Light, she commands a powerful magic to steal the very life force of all she so chooses. A terrifying warrior skilled in hand-to-hand combat, she joined the fight against the Chicerians at Marla's desperate request. The love that blossomed in arms with Prince Terrance wilted in peace, and she returned to Meridiopolis a year after the Chicerians were defeated, calling off their wedding two months before its date. [She has not been heard from since.]<since| (Click: ?since)[By you anyway. Not that you really care. You were happier when she left, really. Yeah, you did whatever you wanted—which was a bunch of…you know…stuff…and things. Fun things!! So many you can’t even count them!! Or remember them!!]

You struggle to catch up. “You’re leading me to the exit, right?” The figure stops to look at you through its green eyes, then smiles and heads in another direction. “I want to get to the Northern Plateaus,” you say. It changes direction again, this time leading you down a narrow gap between ancient stones. You emerge into a large opening the diverges into two paths. “Which one do we take?” “Whichever one you’d like, Terrance,” the shapeshifter answers as it takes a place on the cool ground. “You’re the one that always needs to be in control of everything, after all.” “You sounded just like…” It laughs and effortlessly hops to its feet. [[Left]] or [[Right]]?

You take a few steps towards the left path. When you look back, you find your mother occupying the place where you thought Bryn would be. “How are you—” “You’ve got to start relying on yourself, now, Terrance,” it says in the queen’s voice. “You’re pretty good at that, you know,” you chuckle. “Constantly needing positive reinforcement. Tsk. You’re not a little boy, anymore,” she scowls. Another split in the paths. [[Left|Left?]] or [[Right|Right?]]?

The path is clammy and cramped. “Would you mind moving a bit faster, please?” she asks. “Some of us are cold, you know.” Then, in a smaller voice, “Always so inconsiderate.” The path splits again. [[Left|Left?]] or [[Right?]]

You stumble over slick stones. Another call from behind, “Walk like a prince, at least! You’re representing our entire kingdom, after all.” The path splits again. “Let’s hope you’re not as inept at decision-making as your father.” [[Left|Left??]] or [[Right|Right??]].

Your fingers wrap around damp rocks as you pull yourself along the route. “All that gold spent on magic training with Marla and you can’t even manage a levitation spell,” she spits from below you. “That was for battle magic,” you call down to her. Your words only wash off of her demeanor. “Again with the excuses. Learn how to take some responsibility, would you? For the kingdom’s sake.” The trail splits again. [[Left|Left??]] or [[Right?|Right??]]

You shimmy through a tight passageway. “Looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. At least your father could admit he was wrong. Though I guess you always had a thick head.” [[Head back?|Left?]] “I’ll let you lead. Since you seem to know the way,” it says with a mocking tone.

“All of the private tutors and lessons I provided for you, and this is what I have to show for it. How much longer are you going to have us wander around these caves?” “You could help, too, you know! Don’t you live here?” “And such a temper, too. You would think a prince would know better than to raise his voice at his own mother.” You mutter curses under your breath and press forward. Finally, you crawl through a fissure to see [[daylight|Caves's End]].

“We made it!! We actually made it!!” You turn around looking for the fabricated image of your mother. “What? Nothing to say, now—” And find the shapeshifter has returned to its cuddly, purple form. “Ughhh, you can just do that while I’m gloating.” It leaps over to your leg and curls around it. “Oh, come on, now,” you tenderly intone, “you know I’ve got to go to the Northern Plateaus…” It rubs its fluffy face on your calf with two short whimpers. You try to pull it off. But it doesn’t budge. You feel several pricks where its claws are digging into your leg. You try to pull the little guy off, again. You feel lightheaded. It still doesn’t move. The daylight blurs and twists in your vision. “What are you doing to me?” [Then, it all makes sense:]<sense| (click: ?sense)[You’ve been [[Poisoned]]!]

[Get it off your leg!!]<leg| (mouseover: ?leg)[(replace: ?leg)[It jumps onto your other leg, claws searching for soft flesh beneath your Trinity Armor.]] [Hurry! Pull it off your other leg!]<leg2| (mouseover: ?leg2)[(replace: ?leg2)[You pull it off the other leg.]] Make a mad-dash to the [[light!|Light]]

[It hops on your back.]<back| (click: ?back)[ Keep running!! [You’re almost there!]<run| (click: ?run)[ The shapeshifter whimpers when you burst into the waning daylight. You watch it cover it’s glassy green eyes with fuzzy paws. You take several breaths and stare at the little bugger. You almost regret leaving it behind like this. “Hey, you’ve still got those, uh, spiders to hang out with, right?” Come to think of it, you haven’t seen one spider since the very beginning, when they were all— The spiders were running away from this thing!! You watch as the creature skulks back into the caves, its fur drooping down to the damp stones. The Caves of Remorse were formidable, indeed, you think. But it’s long since been time for you to move on. You shake the poison haze from your head and step forward into the [[Northern Plateaus]].]]

The Royal Sorceress, a formidable force of knowledge of the old texts and master of the ancient arts. She favors ice magic for the thrilling sensation of breaking her foes apart with her merciless scepter, piece by frozen piece. First to alert the kingdom of the Chicerian threat, and first to assemble Prince Terrance and Tyndell on a mission to recruit Bryn of Meridios, she thinks fast and strikes faster. Your party would surely have succumbed to the countless traps and treachery encountered on the march to the Chicerian Enclave were it not for her guidance. The queen rewarded her efforts with a solitary space and minimal duties after your victorious return. She closed herself in her studies for months, [and you mostly left her alone.]<alone| (click: ?alone)[ You also may or may not have kissed her. You got a bit misty after she treated you to a few “Sorcerer Slammers” in an attempt to get you out of the house after the breakup. Then you were hugging and stumbling and laughing and feeling good and it…kind of happened?? You don’t really try to remember that part too hard. And you most certainly never talk about it.]

Commander of the Knight's Order and unparalled combat veteran, Tyndell is feared throughout the land by beasts and brawn alike. Master of the battle axe, his strikes are surgical and swift. And a lover of accessories. He has a collection of trinkets and amulets that he carries around with him at all times, all for the purpose of coordinating his armor choices. When you returned from the Chicerian crusade, he redesigned the Knight's Order armor to reflect a more [modern, colorful look.]<look| (click: ?look)[ He also pounded on your door every morning after Bryn left to make sure you didn't need anything and to generally drag you out of the house for a run and sparring session. He even gave you an amulet to raise your stamina so you had some energy to clean up after your own moping mishaps.]

Inside the shop is not what you expected. There are motionless figures fixed in what appears to be some kind of minimalistic armor—so minimalistic as to be completely useless in combat. Oh, you think, this is an armgerie store! You’d heard about these before, but never seen them. They were for, uh, enthusiasts. And Bryn wasn’t into that type of stuff. She had certainly made that painfully clear. “Looking for someone special?” a voice chirps from behind. You turn to discover a tall woman wearing a conservative black dress tied with a bright-red bow. “Who? Me?? Uh…Yeah, actually. Just, uh, thought we’d try something new, you know, haha.” “I’d be happy to help you make a decision! You should see our new Forbidden Armoire collection!” she says, linking you by the arm and dragging you to the back of the velvet-draped store. The mannequins posed before you are locked in a dainty duel, with strips of chain mail and steel barely covering places that need the most protection. “Are you looking for a style in particular?” she presses. “This collection is produced on steel infused with a fire buffer, so it’s warm to the touch. Here,” she grabs your hand presses it on the mannequin’s upper thigh. “Doesn’t it feel lovely? This fire enchantment is sure to spark a flame,” she catches your eye and laughs. “Who have we here?” another voice appears at your side. “Looking for a bit of a excitement, I assume,” she giggles and slips her arm around yours, too. “Our Forbidden Armoire collection cannot be more highly recommended. Wouldn’t you agree, Daphne?” “Oh, of course, Tabitha,” she smirks. “I know it’s worked wonders for me.” “The most important thing with a delicious piece of armgerie is sizing,” she states. “You know we hate to intrude, but might we get a broadsword estimate?” “Uh, she’s, you know, not super skinny or anything,” you sputter, looking down at Tabitha and Daphne in turns. “Voluptuous women love this collection,” Tabitha chimes. “Only if you’d like, of course, but we do have some sizing agents available to help…” Tabitha adds, “To ensure a great fit.” Four more women in black dresses appear out of a room in the corner, bee-lining to your position. “What would you like to see first?” asks Daphne. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll have to think—” “Nonsense, nonsense,” Tabitha says. “We’ll start medium and go from there?” She snaps her fingers. [[More footsteps behind you.|Armgerie Adventures]]

“No, I really have to go,” you say. “I’ve got to get to the Northern Plateaus.” “Oh, that won’t take long from here,” Daphne assures you while petting your arm. “And a purchase of an Armoire piece comes with a stamina chocolate,” Tabitha says. “You’ll have an extra…eh, pep in your step, so to speak,” Daphne quickly giggles. You crane your neck around to find a crew of five more attendants of various sizes smiling blankly at you. Something’s not quite right. The first model cruises by you, doing a turn and disappearing back into the dressing room area. Daphne squeezes your bicep, “A bit skinny?” “Yeah, I guess, but I need to—” Tabitha snaps her fingers. You try to twist your arms away from Daphne and Tabitha but find [[you can’t really move.|Armgerie Armbar]]

“No need to be bashful,” Daphne says in a comforting tone, “We’re all adults here.” You tug your arm a bit more sternly. They respond by grabbing even tighter. Another model drifts past, unaware of your struggle. “Alright,” you begin, “I’m not going to say it again.” Daphne twirls her finger in a tight circle. The other store attendants draw closer, with those same innocuous smiles. “Let go of me,” you command. “You don’t want that, do you, Prin—” Tabitha bites her tongue. Daphne quickly recovers, “We’ve almost got the size picked out.” You rip your arms from their grasp and stand with one hand clutching your [[Blade of Banishment]]. “If you know I’m Prince Terrance,” you say, “then you also know I need to be leaving, now.” “So soon?” Tabitha says with a pitiful look. The attendants don’t break their tight semi-circle around you. “Unfortunately.” You start towards the exit, but come to a stop in front of the wall of black dresses and red bows. Daphne pleads from behind you, “Have another look.” You try to step between two of the women, but the others close around you. [You instinctively dash to the door.]<dash| (click: ?dash)[ Daphne and Tabitha tug at your arms with their other staff members. You drag all of them to the exit. “We’ll give you a special discount!” Daphne says. When you crack open the door, they finally release their grip. You’re thrown back into the street. “Thanks for visiting,” smiles the woman holding the neon sign. You dust yourself off and begin [heading down the street.]<street|] (mouseover: ?street)[When you trip unexpectedly. “Have a great day,” she says, [[foot still sticking out.|City Streets]]]

Outside you continue down the street, feeling a bit jaded about the beautiful city around you. You look around. Everything is so shiny and dynamic it all kind of blends together into an overdose of stimuli, from the magic signboards blowing glittery smoke in front of glimmering buildings to the ubiquitous drone of sales and discounts and specials from over-enthusiastic shop hawkers. You head begins to spin in the afternoon heat. You lift your Poison Protector and take a breath. You’re thirsty. You spot a kiosk on the corner. A young woman fans herself uninterestedly behind the counter. A quick glance at their menu. “Bertenberry Juice” “Tincilla Tea” “Fizzy Water” “Well,” she says. I’ll have the [[Bertenberry Juice]]. I’ll have the [[Tincilla Tea]]. I’ll have the [[Fizzy Water]].

"We're out of that," she responds. You squint your eyes in mild annoyance, then look back at the menu. "I'll have the [[Tincilla Tea]], then." "I'll have the [[Fizzy Water]], then."

"We don't carry that, anymore," she responds. You clench your jaw. "Then why is it still on the menu," you ask, perturbed. She remains expressionless. You stare back at the menu. "I'll have the [[Bertenberry Juice]], then." "I'll have the [[Fizzy Water]], then?"

She saunters back two steps and opens the ice chest. You hear her pouring a some kind of liquid into the wooden mug. Then you watch her back as she covers the top with a lid and violently shakes your beverage. She places the drink on the counter and holds her hand out. You drop a gold piece into it. She glances at the tip jar. You drop a gold piece into it, too. Because you're a [class act]<act|,(click: ?act)[ dammit.] You take a sip of your Fizzy Water to find it unsatisfying under the hot sun. Then you find a sign that points towards the Northern Plateaus and decide to cut your losses and [[head straight there.|Northern Plateaus]]

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A black bolt of lightning strikes the ground in front of you. You bite your lip with anticipation, ready your blade. Its edge sings a sharp song, impatient. Emerging from the crater is none other than a Chicerian general. It bangs the back of a rune-laced battle axe against its white chest. You keep an eye on its four spindly legs, weary of a jumper. Or worse, a flyer. It spits a poison mist into the air with a howl you haven’t heard in over a year. You lower your Poison Protector over your mouth and wait for an opening. The ground cracks beneath its tremendous weight as it [[lumbers before you.|Battle of the Plateaus 2]]

A sweeping blow tears across the field headed for your chest. You roll under it and draw your blade back to slice it from behind, when a beam of light whizzes by your ear. A Chicerian sorceress has also joined the fray. You return your attention to the axe now [swinging down at your head from above.]<above| (mouseover: ?above)[ You block it, but it locks you in place. A foreign muttering reaches your ear. [The sky grows darker]<darker|, sending the field into a pitch black.] (click: ?darker)[ Another bolt rockets into your back. You succumb to the weight of the heavy battle axe. It bashes you [to the ground]<ground|.] (click: ?ground)[And you couldn’t be [[happier|Battle of the Plateaus 3]].]

It had been so long since you felt like you had a purpose, a path. Now it was once again laid at your feet. You roll out of the way of the next blow crashing down from above and pop back up quickly. First, you would need to deal with that sorceress. You throw your blade high into the air, then cross your thumbs, palms pointed towards the ground. A quick incantation rolls off of your tongue with [polished practice.]<bolt| (click: ?bolt)[ “Blazing Bolt!” Instantly a surge of lightning lifts you off your feet and courses through the earth in rending waves. You catch your sword as it falls to the ground, [ready to strike]<strike|.] (mouseover: ?strike)[ The artificial darkness lifts in time for you to see the Chicerian general appear to shrink in size. “Okay,” it coughs, “I’ve had enough of these games.” “You—you can speak?” you ask, incredulous. “You know I don’t do well with magic defense,” it says. Upon closer inspection you see a beard peeking out from the white flesh—flesh that was dripping away before your very eyes. “Tyndell??” “Been a while, huh?” more coughs. “What’s going on here?” “Had to go and ruin it, didn’t you,” says a familiar voice from over your shoulder. “You saw how much fun he was having.” “Bryn?” “Terrance,” she replies. [[Go in for the hug]]. [[Offer your hand]]. [[Give a wave]].]

You go in for a hug, unable to control yourself. You feel her stomach compress into a sigh; a bad sigh. A sigh like when she was about to yell at you for not listening to her talk about what an exciting day she had. You end the hug early, defeated. She stiffens her back and straightens her tunic. “Well, that was pretty awkward, huh,” Tyndell chuckles uncomfortably. [[You both scowl at him|Reunion]].

You offer her your hand. She takes it and brings you in for a hug. In the process you turn your face towards hers for a kiss out of habit. She pulls back and reconsiders the hug. But you still try to go in for the hug, though, causing her to step back. “Let’s just shake, after all,” she smiles. “Yeah, no. That’s definitely what I was planning on, anyway.” Tyndell coughs to break [[the ensuing silence|Reunion]].

You raise your hand and wave at her. She kind of waves back. But then you both realize how silly this looks, waving to someone only a few feet away. So you take a couple steps towards her. She does the same. Then you both stop in hugging-distance, but instead of hugging sort of smile and nod at each other for a few seconds with your mouths slightly open, though not saying anything. “I’ve seen a lot of gruesome things in my time as a warrior,” Tyndell says, “but that was by far [[the most upsetting situation I’ve ever witnessed|Reunion]].”

“You all seem to be enjoying yourselves.” “Marla!!” you yell. “It looks like we’re all here, then,” Bryn says. Tyndell throws his arm over your shoulder, “Finally got you out of the house!!” “What about the Chicerians, though?” “The queen’s idea,” says Marla. “She thought you could use another adventure to cheer you up after…” You look at Bryn, then avert your eyes. “Oh, I was fine,” you say. Everyone smiles politely and nods. “Well,” says Tyndell, “all that matters now is that we’ve got the old crew together, again, huh?!” “And just in time for a campfire,” offers Bryn. You start to feel okay with your mother’s crazy idea while going about [[setting up camp.|Fireside]]

After Tyndell whips up a hearty stew and pours you a bowl around the campfire, you decide to bring up what’s been on your mind. “So, what are you guys doing tomorrow, then?” you ask. “We could go do some side quests or something…” Bryn averts her eyes, “Oh, well, I really should be getting back to Meridios. I was in the middle of some healing, so…” “Yeah,” you respond, a bit dejected. “Yeah, that’s important stuff.” You look to Marla. She stares directly back at you, “My Chimerian specimens must be maintained. They won’t wait another day.” You nod slowly. “I could do a few side quests,” says Tyndell. “I just got a few things coming up next week with the Knight’s Order that I need to prepare for, so as long as we’re back by dark. You stare at the campfire and spoon the tangy stew into your mouth. “Cheer up, Ter,” Tyndell says and slaps you on the back. You choke on your stew. “We’ll find another time to get together, again,” he says. “And wasn’t the “adventure” here fun?” “I’d like to hear about the [[Caves of Remorse]],” chirps Bryn. “I’ve always wanted to go to the [[Shimmering City]]!” Tyndell says. “The [[Whining Woods]] is said to have an…interesting keeper,” joins Marla. You look up from your stew, take a long breath. And [begin your story.]<story| (mouseover: ?story)[Not a tear in your eye. Not one. Nope. Definitely not a single tear.]

Luciana presses her temples between her thumb and index finger, “Chicerian’s crotch.” “Look,” the bearded warrior says, “we’ll leave all our weapons here.” He lays down his spiked club. “And Luciana here will guide you out of the woods.” The other bandits immediately follow suit. Luciana looks alarmed, “Wait, you all can’t just—” But they’re already dashing haphazardly into the brush. You look at Luciana. She hangs her head. “Where are you going?” she mumbles to the forest floor. “Oh, sure. I guess it’s nice to be able to pack up and leave once you’ve done the damage, huh?” says Woodward from above. “The Northern Plateus,” you say. “There’s rumors of unrest—” She juts her sword towards a shallow path curving into the woods. [[“Let’s just get this over with."|Whining Woods Woes]]