[Game Update #2 - KIP (Knowledge is Power!)]The creatures piercing words ring in your mind with a malevolent intention that makes you tremble with fear for what it might make you do. To serve this monster would be betraying your entire species. Yet that threat — that promise it made to consume your very being — weighed upon your ability to think rationally. No afterlife would await you, no eternal glory by the Emperor's side... You began to involuntarily tremble, trapped between a no-win situation that stole any chance of redemption from you. You wanted to be brave. You wanted to decry this thing and, like the Emperor's finest, face death with pride or escape its clutches to report its evil to the Ministorum.
But you were a mere manufactorum worker on some Emperorforsaken planet in a system that turned every citizen who didn't belong to the noble classes into a tool geared towards managing the various mining colonies and production centers which were used to fuel the seemingly eternal wars on other worlds. While you worked with steel, your guts were made of marshmellows. Perhaps if you had grown dealing with the rougher elements of the Hive or were more involved with the Ministorum you'd have the mental fortitude to refuse. However, you lacked that kind of strength, and the realization of your own weakness stole from your heart anything which would amount to resolve. You broke down again... "Why?! Why make me do this?! Don't you realize I'm a NOBODY?! WITFF... I don't understand why me... I WANT TO UNDERSTAND WHY YOU THINK THIS WAY." You're not sure what possessed you to spurt that out... and, as unnerving as it was, you weren't sure you did. As the creature entered your mind, your own thoughts and words became indistinguishable. It was a chaotic realm that threatened any sense of foundation you had taken for granted on the stable bedrock of reality. Nothing of the creature's request made sense. The most "change" you had ever imagined was starting a band where you'd dress in trashy clothes and win over crowds with lameass songs about breakups. Most people you encountered found you utterly bland and pathetic.
The Cheet made a croaking noise and swayed its head side to side in what you recognized as irritation. You instinctively shielded yourself as it reached with a bony finger towards your chest again. The futility of your unconscious effort to protect yourself was made clear when your entire body and mind felt as though they were igniting with the fury of a planet's core. Cheet's mental voice was distant as your mind began to fill with knowledge that the Ministorum would kill you for even possessing, "Cheet show book. Book of you... And gift of knowing." You screamed out in agony, your vision becoming etched with blasphemous runes of blood red fire that refused to vanish into darkness when you closed your eyes... your flesh began to burn with writings in a thousand heretic languages. Your eyes flew open and you looked up in this desolate world to see demons dancing across the warp clouds. To your dawning horror you knew what they were and what they were capable of. You knew of them, you knew of Chaos, you knew of this creature now... this Cheet as it called itself, though it had many other names... And you knew its master.... The flows of fate Tzeentch had woven around you were bound manyfold, but every path you could make out in the spool, whether it was of cooperation or rebuke, led to Chaos's triumph. You had always known that you were a tool yet you had misunderstood who was your owner.
Cheet's threat had also become clear. There would be no rites to purge you, nor death to free you, from your fate. By the virtue of this "book" Cheet had inscribed into your soul you were now destined for the nether if you died. The monster... something called a Lord of Change... would ensure your death itself if needed, though from what you saw it would probably be wasting its efforts to achieve a redundant goal. Your life was now caught in a rapids and would be dashed upon the rocks if you didn't carefully navigate its waters... and, even if you died, causality would find a way to make your choices serve Tzeentch.
When the fires faded from your eyes you found yourself back on the catwalk in a crumpled heap. The island floating through warpspace and your persecutor were now gone. The stench of your own urine filled your nostrils and you stumbled trying to stand up again, nearly falling over the railing to certain death. Your mouth is unnaturally dry and you lick your lips as you gaze around at your surroundings to make sure everything is in place and that there are no demon holes waiting to suck you back in. Though you recognized your full return to reality, nothing felt stable anymore. The world you had grown up in, the world you found comfort in because of its certainty, was now alien in the new light you saw its workings. You were so confused by what should've been familiar surroundings that you barely even registered the enforcers as they approached you.
"Ma'am, please follow us to the infirmary for immediate evaluation." The guard spoke through his rebreather mask, a necessary precaution with the rise of neurotoxin gases being used by gangers in their petty turf wars, and he didn't seem willing to entertain disagreement. Likewise necessary was vigilance when it came to catching an outbreak before it started, and you must have seemed delirious with some kind of fever to observers. You blinked several times, discovering that your vision was trapped between looking at him and his companion, your jaw gaping in wonderment as you
saw the two enforcers standing before you. Not merely their navy blue flak-jackets marked with the symbol of the local Midgard VI hive structure's law enforcement, their thick iron-reinforced combat boots, or the obscuring masks which made their features an enigma but rather you saw
them. The names they answered to, the influences of people in their lives, their goals and dreams... the fact that the man requesting you follow them was secretly selling information to one of the local gangs... the fact that he was also one of the enforcers assisting the Arbites when they had to control the mob after your blood... the fact that the silent one felt more comfortable wearing pretty dresses than his masculine attire but hid that facet of his personality after a vicious beating... You nearly fainted from information overload but shook off the vertigo. What you saw began to fascinate you and it was already beginning to feel natural.
Sitting there with a dumbfounded expression for several seconds didn't go unnoticed, and you realized that the speaker was getting ready to forcefully drag you along if you didn't comply soon...
=======================================================================
Events:
Guts (UNTRAINED): Roll 2 (1d3) vs. 6+ - Failure.
Couldn't keep a firm resolve in the face of a soul-devouring monster's threat
SKILL GAIN! Guts: Lv.0 -> Lv. 1Corruption +12
Khaonomikon information overload when Cheet got tired of answering questions (Roll 2d6: 6, 6)
"Your mouth feels numb... it's probably nothing..."Trait added: Khaonomikon
A tome of chaos written into a person's very soul... What it can do, and the depths of its knowledge, are still undiscovered. It does however mean that Solaria can now automatically pass most tests dealing with knowledge of Chaos, the warp, demons, or chaos cults. i.e. Players have free reign to make that IC knowledge.
Trait added: Sight of Mind
Solaria understands things about people and their intentions that they'd probably like to hide. This was Cheet's "gift" to her, and along with the instruction manual of the Khaonomikon and whatever meager skills she possesses are the only tools she begins with to accomplish a system-wide conquest that irrevocably alters the state of the region.
=======================================================================
Sorry for the delay. I went to a concert and couldn't get myself into a productive state for a while. I also had to pull together a course of events that included as many votes as possible.
As you may have noticed, the wording of actions can be manipulated... especially when I see an opportunity to combine them into a new meaning which still fulfills the request and fits with character influences (such as the failed guts check) that kick in. This story isn't an orderly one, you might even say it's a little chaotic
, though overwhelming vote advantages push it more than others. This update combined the requests for a hidden weapon, knowledge of people, and two votes for understanding into something that addressed all of them in some way.
With the introduction out of the way I'll be more clear about the story and its goals. Cheet has demanded that the protagonist bring "Change", although what that change is doesn't matter so long as it's happy with the significance of the alterations. Destroying the world, bringing about a worker revolution, whatever. Opportunities to break free of this mission entirely (with or without horrible death) might even open up in the future, depending on how player choices influence events.
In addition to in-game actions you can request in-character knowledge Solaria might possess about her world or surroundings.
Author
Topic: (SG) A Chaotic Series of Events - Unsocialized Medicine (Read 3440 times)