Post by Xenagos on Apr 6, 2018 1:30:55 GMT
COMPLETED SETS
The first Magic set I ever designed. With 241 cards and four new mechanics, this top-down set based on Minecraft is fully fleshed out. It is lacking three major things, however: a story behind the cards, a set skeleton, and a block. I just made cards and edited the set as a whole later on to make sure it had an even number of cards for each color and a proportional amount of each rarity. I may have chosen not to finish the Minecraftia block because at that time the blocks that Wizards were making had three sets, and I could not for the life of me think of any more mobs, items, or events in Minecraft to base things off of. One lesson I learned from this set is there should be a limit to how many legendary things are in a set; this one has too many of them.
Complete Set File + cards.xml
Complete Set File + cards.xml
After my first set debuted, I began to expand my horizons and think silver-bordered for my second set. Unsolved has 197 cards and is slightly more orderly than Heroes of Minecraftia (it actually began with a set skeleton!) The cards were based on many things in the areas of physics and mathematics and it debuted five new mechanics. During the building process of this set, I believe my skills as a Magic card designer really began to strengthen in a way they hadn’t before. It is also missing a storyline and a plane, but those were intentional omissions.
Complete Set File and cards.xml
Complete Set File and cards.xml
Anorost is a dark plane; one of monsters and giants. This set is based on the video games Don’t Starve and Sunless Sea. There are strong central themes of exploration and insanity. It is my first two-set block design, and my first block to feature a story behind its cards!
Complete Set File + cards.xml
Complete Set File + cards.xml
Chapter 1
CRACK!
Wilson froze and whipped his head around to see what had made the sound. Out here, in the wilds of Anorost, the snap of a twig could mean the difference between life and death.
It wasn’t difficult to see what had caused the tree branch to fall. Only the blindest of folk could miss noticing the catcoon that was trundling quickly through the forest not far from where Wilson had been gathering berries. He quickly hid behind the nearest glimberry bush. Hopefully the smell of the glims will cover my scent, Wilson thought fervently. Catcoons were notorious for their sense of smell.
Luckily enough, the ‘coon had it’s eyes on something else, and pawed off away from where Wilson had hid himself. Wilson breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the job at hand: clearing the bushes of glimberries to bring back to Camelia.
As soon as he began, however, he noticed another catcoon go by, this time too quickly for him to react to. But this one was intent on something else. Wilson turned around, searching for whatever prey the catcoon was after, but he couldn’t see anything at first glance. Not really sure what he expected; catcoons had much more advanced eyesight than humans. However, with another glance at the swiftly receding catcoon, Wilson realized, It’s not hunting; it looks like it’s running. Escaping.
That was when he heard the explosion.
That came from home, Wilson thought to himself. He abandonded his berry-picking and began to run, retracing his steps. No, no, no… that can’t have been Camelia… right?
As he rushed through the undergrowth, the thickly matted branches slashed his face. The pain didn’t faze him, however - the only thing he could think about was the well-being of his mother. He dodged trees, leaped brooks, and jumped over rocks and roots. How far had he gone into the woods? Farther than he had thought, to be sure.
He finally broke through the treeline, and the hot summer sun blinded him. He blinked the stars out of his eyes and searched frantically for his home. What greeted him was nothing short of chaos.
What had once been his home village of Camelia was now a raging wildfire.
Chapter 2
After a sleepness night of grieving, Wilson climbed to his feet. He stretched, sore after sitting in the same position for what seemed like eternity. The ruins of Hunter’s Keep lay at his feet. No one, it seemed, had survived. Except for him.
*munch, munch*
Wilson jerked his head up, instantly coming to his senses. Where had that sound come from?
*crunch, slurp*
He ducked into the shadows of the ruined building and crept around the corner, into what used to be the hallway leading to the kitchen. Peeking around a burned beam of wood, he searched for the potentially dangerous animal that was eating nearby.
“Chester?”
His pet portable chest turned its head and leaped toward Wilson happily, barking at him in recognization.
“Good boy, Chester! Good boy!” Wilson hugged Chester in pure exultation. He wasn’t alone.
What Chester had been eating, it seemed, was an underground cache of goodies. Berries, vegetables, and dried meat were immediately apparent, and that was only the first layer!
He immediately began to chow down, not aware of how hungry his nightly vigil had made him. Chester joined him, munching happily on the remains of the dried meat stash.
“Despite how much food this looks like, Chester, it won’t last at this rate.” Wilson spoke through a mouthful of berries. “We need to find a reliable source of sustenance and shelter, and this isn’t it. I hate to say it, but there’s a journey ahead of us that we can’t avoid.”
He shouldered his berry-picking backpack and began to scavenge any materials he could find among the catastrophic ruin around him. It would be an indefinitely long expedition, and he would need to be prepared.
Chapter 3
The booms began softly, not loud enough to hear. As soon Chester detected them, he began barking at the top of his lungs. Wilson, unaware of the dangerous booming sounds, shushed Chester and continued through the grasslands following the edge of the woods. However, when Chester wouldn’t cease barking, Wilson knew something was wrong. He put his ear to the ground and listened closely.
BOOM! BOOM!
Where are those sounds coming from? He thought to himself. What animal is capable of such noise? “Who is it, Chester? Where are they?” he whispered. Chester barked in confusion. It feels like they’re… everywhere.
The booms were now loud enough to hear, and increasing in volume rapidly. Whatever was coming was heading right for them. Wilson got down into a crouch, lay down his backpack to have more mobility, and readied his makeshift spear of flint.
The ground itself was shuddering every time a BOOM was heard. Wilson could see the branches of trees and berry bushes around him rattle. Pebbles shook. Wilson’s eyes darted from side to side as he swiveled on his feet, still unsure of where exactly whatever was making the sound was coming from. BARK, BARK! Chester growled at a specific spot in the brush toward Wilson’s left. Wilson swiveled to face it, and none too soon. For not a second later, two large hounds leapt out directly at them!
The first hit Wilson directly in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Oof!" He swung his spear and met flesh. The hound howled in pain and leaped off. Wilson, heaving for breath, flipped to his side to check on Chester. The second hound, mangy and red, had its teeth around Chester’s leg, trying to rip it off. Chester was howling in pain, striving to turn around and sink his teeth into the hound’s leg. Wilson, from his position on the ground, heaved his spear at the red hound with all the strength he could muster, but it glanced off its hide, leaving hardly a scratch. The only thing that he achieved was catch the attention of both hounds.
The red hound loosened its grip on Chester, sensing larger prey. Chester whimpered, cowering in defeat. The black hound pawed towards Wilson, lusting for revenge. Wilson got on his hands and knees, his breath returning slowly. The hounds leaned back on their haunches, preparing for the killing pounce. Wilson scuffled backwards as fast as he could, only to feel the bark of a birchnut tree behind him. He closed his eyes frightfully as the hounds leaped into the air, two bodies as one, towards Wilson, and
WHACK! WHACK!
A spear came flying out of nowhere, sinking its tip into one, and then both of the hounds as they were in the air. Wilson, expecting pain but feeling none, opened his eyes in surprise. The bushes rustled, and out walked a woman and two men dressed for the hunt.
“Greetings, young man. How ever did you find yourself in a situation such as this?” the woman chided Wilson.
Wilson, at a loss for words, sat with his eyes wide and his mouth even wider.
The woman chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got a realistic looking statue in our midst, fellas.” The men chuckled. “Look, pal, if you answer my questions, there’s a chance we can take you,” she looked at the sniveling mess that was Chester, “and your buddy here back to our village.”
Wilson snapped to attention. “Gladly, sir- I mean miss- sorry- I came from a few days that’a’ways, miss,” - he pointed - “from Camelia, that is, with my pet Chester- our village burned, right to the ground, miss, and everyone in it as well, miss, save for me and Chester, that is.”
“Not a statue after all, then,” she said. “Come on up, we could use the extra hands.”
Wilson, relieved to be in the company of someone who spoke the same language for once, got to his feet, grabbed his pack, took Chester into his arms, and followed the hunters into the forest.
Chapter 4
Wilson woke with a start, opening his eyes wide and gasping audibly in shock at the THUMP that woke him. “GIANT!” someone screamed, and after that chaos ensued.
“RUN!” Wilson heard, and he scrambled to his feet to do so. He saw a foot the size of a horse crash down on one of the tents in camp and cringed at the sheer power it encapsulated. Chester, Wilson thought, and glanced his head from left to right, conducting a quick search for his beloved pet before another CRASH jarred his body from head to toe. He saw the giant stoop down to reach for something with its fingers, and fervently hoped that that thing wasn’t Chester.
From the middle of the clearing that they had set up camp in, Wilson ran to the edge of the treeline calling Chester’s name at the top of his lungs. Each time he did, however, his voice got whipped away by the sounds of everyone else screaming and running and noises of destruction. He heard the crunch of branches, or bones, he thought to himself.
All of a sudden, he felt a softness on his thigh and a bark of fear. “Chester!” Wilson yelled in happiness. He picked up the portable chest and began to run into the woods away from the devastated camp. He hazarded a glance backwards. The thumps and crashes had stopped, at least for the moment. The giant was concentrating on tearing flesh from a bone he had ripped from something that could’ve been anything from a catcoon to a horse to a person. It was a strange quiet - empty of noise but full of dissapating sorrow. Wilson didn’t notice anyone else on the scene - hopefully they had all made it out alive. He took a breath, shaking from fear and exhilaration, and sprinted away from the site of devastation.
After a few hour’s trek through the marsh, fatigue overcame Wilson. He stumbled under an overhang on the side of a bluff and fell to his knees. The last thing he remembered before sleep overtook him was Chester’s whimper of defeat.
Chapter 5
Wilson woke to a growling stomach. Check that, two growling stomachs. Chester whimpered hungrily. Wilson blinked the sleep out of his eyes, then jerked awake, remembering the events of yesterday. I ran, he thought, I ran like the coward I am. He frowned, wondering who out of their group had survived. His empty stomach interrupted his reverie, however, and he jumped to his feet, eager to search for some woodland grub.
After a few mouthfuls of glimberries off a nearby bush and a few wild carrots he found in the ground, he and Chester felt like they could face the world. As he headed toward another glimberry bush, though, Wilson felt the ground shift beneath him. He stopped, quivering. Chester bounced toward him, unaware of the unstable ground Wilson was standing on. “Chester, no!” Wilson shouted, but it was too late. the extra weight of Chester’s small body was enough to open the sinkhole chasm they had been standing on.
Wilson and Chester fell into darkness.
SPLASH!
It wasn’t long before the two felt a layer of water cushion their fall. Wilson sunk deep, thrashing his arms and legs. It was difficult to tell up from down in the darkness of the underground ocean. He opened his eyes to orient himself, and found himself face to face with the ugliest sea creature he’d ever seen in his life. He felt his lungs tighten as he began to breathe in the salty ocean water, and then darkness.
The next thing Wilson remembered was the feel of stones against his body and the soft splash of waves against his face. He struggled to open his eyes against the crust of salt that had formed on his eyelids Reaching up to brush his eyes clean, he suddenly doubled over, coughing up seawater. After emptying what seemed like tons of bile and seawater, Wilson’s stomach was finally empty, but he couldn’t get the taste of salt out of his mouth.
He blinked the last of the salt and dirt out of his eyes and hazarded a look around. What he saw stunned him. Lit by the glow of thousands of crystals on the cave ceiling was a city.
Chapter 6
Boats to each side, as far as the eye could see. Given, because of the darkness, Wilson couldn’t see very far, but the number of ships in the harbor he was in astounded him nonetheless.
As Wilson stepped closer and closer to the docks, the muffled hustle and bustle of the harbor’s market square grew in volume. He walked slowly past colossal ships that floated in the docks, as well as smaller dinghies at the piers.
He noticed a rugged woman wearing a pirateer’s hat standing next to a huge ship with colossal sails. She was shouting as loud as the hustle and bustle around her would let her, just loud enough for Wilson to make out what she was saying as he walked closer.
“Step up, come one, come all! Aelna the Pirateer is looking to recruit a crew for an expedition, and you might be exactly what she’s lookinf for! Pull your pants up and get ready for an adventure like no other on the high (well, actually low) seas!”
This might be axactly what I need, Wilson thought to himself, to clear my mind of recent events… He took a step towards the pirateer recruiter, raising his eyes to meet hers.
“Looks like we have a volunteer!” The pirateer locked eyes with Wilson. ”What’s your name, son, and why do you think you’re someone we need for this trip?” Wilson paused, at a loss for words in the presence of this intimidating woman. “Wilson,” he stuttered. “My name is Wilson and…” He paused again. “I have a destiny to fulfill.” She burst into laughter. “Aelna’s going to like that one. That’s a hoot.” Then Wilson heard a voice. “What am I going to like?”
Wilson looked upwards sharply. Walking down the gangplank was a startling brunette with a saucy gait. “Captain Aelna!” the recruiter saluted playfully. “This young man here says his reason for travel is… to fulfill his destiny!” she chuckled again, then stopped when she realized Aelna hadn’t joined in. “Is that right?” Aelna cocked an eyebrow. “Come aboard, young man. That’s my reason too.”
Chapter 7
After a couple days of hectic preparing for the voyage - including recruiting more pirateers, stocking the cupboards with grub, and testing the ropes to see if they were seaworthy and replacing those that weren’t, Wilson and his fellow crewmates set sail. Aelna stood at the helm and let out a whoop!
“Onwards ladies and gents, fellow pirateers! To our awaiting destiny! To freedom!”
The crew cheered in accompaniment.
The weather was perfect to sail on - sunny with barely a cloud in the sky, and a light breeze to set them on their way. However, when Aelna turned away from the rest of the crew, Wilson could have sworn he saw a shadow cross her face, a momentary grimace of fear.
She yelled “Avast! To your stations, pirateers! I want us to Stranty-Town in a week’s time, so we'd better get going!” and made her way across the deck to retreat to her quarters.
Wilson, manning the mainsail rope, overheard her mumbling to herself incoherently. He couldn’t make out any definite words from the trickle of mumbling that he heard, but he knew one thing for certain - he heard the name Maxwell.
Chapter 8
HURRGGLLGH!
Wilson heaved up the remains of his last meal and watched from half-closed eyes, mouth hanging open, as the bilge and stomach acid splashed into the ocean next to the ship. It trailed away towards the back of the ship to join the wake as they pushed forward into the great unknown waters.
Ugh… it’s been two weeks and I’m still seasick… Wilson closed his eyes and groaned. He knelt on the deck of the ship and began to crawl painstakingly back to his quarters. It took ages, but after he crawled underneath his bedsheets he immediately fell into the darkness of sleep.
He started falling.
He got a short glimpse of the marshy forest he had come from before darkness consumed his view. Only this time, his fall wasn’t as short as it was when he fell into the ocean last time. It went on and on. Endless darkness, endless feeling of wind rushing past his face as he fell deeper and deeper into nothing.
It began as a whisper - so quiet he had to check whether he had actually heard it. A small chuckle - maniacal, like nothing he had ever heard before. As the wind rushing past him became faster and faster, the chuckles became louder and louder until they evolved into a fully fledged villainous laugh.He twisted around in the darkness, turning his head every which way to see who or what was making the dreadfully terrifying sound. As he turned his head to look the other way, a veiled face loomed out of the darkness, mouth open in a maniacal smile. Wilson opened his mouth in a silent scream as the mysterious face grew larger and larger, enveloping him in its evil aura—
Wilson gasped awake, lurching upright in his bed. His breath came quick and ragged.
“You ok?” his crewmate in the bed above his asked.
“Nightmare,” responded Wilson.
“I knew it,” his colleague said. “Everyone’s been having them. Aelna says to report any suspicious dream activity - this ship is governed by strange presences at night, and she’s not one to ignore them.”
Wilson tossed his legs over the side of the bed and stood up shakily, his breathing slowing from its previously frenetic pace. “Is that right?” he raised his eyebrows. “I’ll have to ask her about it.”
Wilson made it a point to sit near Aelna at the crew’s next meal all together. When he brought up the topic of his nightmare, she nodded gravely. “I’ve always believed that Blue Prophets govern the air during the night. They know everyone’s future, you know— and it’s up to them if you’re allowed to know it or not.”
Wilson elaborated on his dreadful dream - falling endlessly, maniacal laughter, and the looming face of veils. Aelna looked at him the entire time he was telling his story, her gaze becoming more and more intent. After he finished telling his nightmare, she had only one response.
“Now that is something. You just described the very same dream that I’ve been having… almost every night since the beginning of the voyage.”
Chapter 9
Wilson awoke to the long-awaited cry for land. He leaped up out of his bunk and rushed to the stairs alongside his likewise excited crew mates. Chester barked unhappily as he was unashamedly bashed by the legs of the running pirateers. Wilson waited till everyone else was gone before kneeling down and petting Chester fondly. “You ok, little bud?” Chester barked ruefully at the sailors who had vanished abovedecks, but licked Wilson affectionately to tell him he had no significant injuries.
When Wilson and Chester finally made their way upstairs to the main deck, Wilson could immediately sense something was amiss. The crew was gathered on one side of the ship looking at each other and at something across the water to the ship’s port side. What is was, Wilson couldn’t see because of the mass of crew members that obstructed his view. Apprehensive whispers circulated around the deck - those were definitely audible.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Wilson poked the pirateer closest to him - a woman at the edge of the crowd standing on her tiptoes to see what had been announced as land.
“Take a look,” she responded, and gave up her tiptoe spot in the crowd.
The pristine blue sky above came to a jagged end in front of them. What took its place was swirling dark gray mists. Purple tendrils wove through its midst, and darker shadows appeared on its surface, moved for short distances, and dissapeared. Even though the sun was at its height, its rays couldn’t pierce the unnatural mists.
Wilson overheard a crewmate whisper shiveringly, “Those shadows… they look monstruous. I’ve heard tales of beasts the size of buildings across the sea. Giants. These must be what they were talking about!” Wilson shivered in kind.
“Up and at ‘em, folks!” Aelna’s voice cut through the anxiety of the crowd. ”That’s our destination! Get those rowboats ready!” If Aelna had any misgivings about the situation, she hid them well.
The crew shuffled off, each to their assigned posts. “Look more lively than that, people!” Aelna shouted. ”I didn’t sign you on to swab the decks! Y’all are supposed to be mean sailors, ready to face whatever horrors the sea throws at’chu! Let’s see some enthusiasm!” Aelna raised her sword in the air.
The crew let out a ragged cheer, raising swords, revolvers, and pirateer hats into the air, and began preparing the ship’s rowboats for the trip inland. However, even with all of the preparations to keep his mind busy with, Wilson couldn’t shake one thing out of his mind. The mysterious tendrils of mist they were about to row into were exactly the same ones from his nightmare.
Chapter 10
Wilson’s torch sputtered in the ever encroaching mists. The purple tendrils wisped toward the flickering light, threatening to steal away every last bit of it, but Wilson and his fellow pirateers swatted it away vigilantly. One of them proffered a lantern to Wilson, who relit his improvised torch gratefully with the lantern’s light.
They had been waiting for nearly an hour now for all of the separate groups to get into position. As Wilson’s torch flamed into greater life once again, he heard a whisper from behind him. He turned his head to see who it was, but he couldn’t see anything but mist.
“That was the go signal,” one of his crew mates whispered. “It’s ambush time.”
They began rowing with vigor, knowing that their crewmates would be waiting on the other side. Suddenly, they broke free of the suffocating vapors and found themselves blinking in the stark light of oceanic evening. To their left and to their right, row boats full of pirateers were doing the same. The cloud of mist stopped abruptly in the middle of the ocean to make sure the ominous black ship in front of them could operate smoothly. Wilson and his fellow crew members snuffed out their lanterns and torches alike - they wouldn't need them in broad daylight.
Its wooden sides were covered in tar, leaving room only for the holes cannons poked out of. Its sails fluttered on an empty breeze as the pirateer row boats glided towards it. Aelna was already climbing silently up its hull.
Finally, thought Wilson, this adventure can come to its resolution, and followed a fellow crew member up a sturdy rope. PIrateers on either side were doing the same, carrying swords, spears, and revolvers. Wilson knew there were more on the other side. Whoever was on this ship would soon come to a bitter end.
“Avast!” Wilson heard the shout from above him and felt the rope swing as the pirateer who was at the top jump on board to engage the enemy. He was the fifth one down, but that was soon to change. One by one they climbed on board, screaming cries of war.
And it was Wilson’s turn. He swung, let go of the rope, up and over the railing he went, straight into the mouth of chaos. Pirateers slashed at each other left to right, some with swords locked in melee combat, some firing pistol rounds at each other. Wilson couldn’t tell who was who, enemy or ally. He jumped to avoid a low-cutting blade, reflexes tingling. HIs pirateer training for the last few weeks hadn’t been in vain. He stabbed blindly at the pirateer who had swung, and felt his blade slice something fleshy. He pulled away with a start as a pistol shot rung out only inches from his ear, and swung his head to see a bloody body hit the deck. It wasn’t alone - many others littered the floor. Wilson could only assume that most of them were enemies, since they had obviously been surprised by the ambush attack.
Wilson ducked to avoid another cutlass and felt the whipping wind of it above him. Lost more than a few hairs that time, he thought. I’ve got to be more aware. He thrust his sword into the boot of the pirateer who had swung at him and was rewarded with a squeal of pain. It’s the small victories.
Then Wilson felt his feet being knocked out from underneath him, and he toppled to the deck roughly. His breath was knocked out of his lungs in the same instant his sword was knocked out of his hand. It skittered away through the legs of so many battling pirateers, knocking against the wood of the mast. Wilson gasped for breath as a boot clamped down on his empty sword hand. “You won’t be needin’ that no more, buddy,” rasped a rough voice as Wilson glanced upward, straight at the mustachioed face of a pirateer with remarkably large muscles and a remarkably bloody axe raised above his head. He struggled to free his hand from the iron grip of the man’s boot, but to no avail. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in surrender.
THWACK!
Wilson felt a strong wind from the axe, but didn’t feel any pain. All of a sudden the weight on his hand was lifted, and he opened his eyes to see Aelna proferring the handle of his blade to him with a winning smile. Aelna’s other hand held her sword, which was thrust straight through the oddly lumberjack-looking pirateer who had threatened Wilson. Wilson smiled back as he regained his composure and his breath, and Aelna winked at him. “I suppose you will be needin’ that after all,” she shouted as she leaped into the fray on Wilson’s other side.
Chapter 11
“Get to the bridge!” Wilson heard the shout. “Something fishy’s going on up there!”
The enemy crew was putting up a fairly good fight, considering they had just been taken by surprise. But it was winding down. Wilson estimated that there were at least two or three friendly pirateers for every enemy one. Wilson took a glance up to the bridge to see a group of pirateers surrounding a shadowy figure, facing outwards in a defensive position. The shadow seemed to be emanating some kind of light - only it wasn’t light because it was black, pure darkness. Wilson couldn’t see much through the wall of bodies blocking it, but it was obvious that some kind of magic was present.
Wilson took a step forward - and was knocked down by a wave of pure darkness. The light level instantly went from mid-afternoon sun haze to twilight. All around him, pirateers lay on the decks dazed, as powerless as he was. His sideways position allowed him to see that the group of pirateers on the bridge were still standing, and that they had given way for the shadowy figure to be seen more clearly, illuminated by purple light emanating from his hands.
“Maxwell sends his regards,” a slow deep voice resonated through the twilight. A figure appeared behind the twilight magician, looming upward into the sky, an inverse shadow of the shadow in front of them. A great wind moaned into existence, tugging at Wilson and every other pirateer on the deck. It grabbed them and flung them into the air.
Wilson reach for the railing, scrabbled for the rigging beside him, but to no avail. He could see crew members struggling to do the same all around him, friend and enemy alike. The whirlwind twisted and turned. Wilson lost all sense of direction as the blackness enveloped him. He glimsped the face - the wispy face of his nightmare, he felt the purply tendrils of fear, he heard the deep mocking laughter, but it wasn’t a dream this time, it was real, and it was truth. He screamed, and as he opened his mouth the darkness entered it. Nothing was safe now, nothing was sacred. He felt the nightmarish wind, the sound of screaming - not his own - he felt distance as he flew through the air away from his friends, away from Aelna, away from his awaiting destiny.
He felt wind as he ascended. Descending now. Sudden pain. And he blacked out entirely.
Epilogue/font]
Waves. Warmth. Sunlight. Gentle breeze.
Wilson’s eyes fluttered open at these welcome sensory inputs. His horizontal vision allowed him to see a sunlit beach with gentle pebbles and the green of palm trees. He then heard an unfamiliar voice and gasped awake entirely.
“Wilson.”
Not a scary voice. Not deep and mocking this time. It was gentle, motherly, laced with sympathy and lavender.
Shimmering in front of his unbelieving eyes was an elemental being. It (she?) loomed over Wilson as an eerie light-formed beast - wolf-like, but with the gentle demeanor of a deer.
“Wha.. who…?” stammered Wilson.
“Your destiny has yet to be fulfilled,” spoke the shimmering elemental. “I helped you escape that nightmarish whirlwind for that reason. It is my gift to you.”
She began dissapating into the seaside sunlight.
“Wha… wait!” cried Wilson. “What is this… destiny… you speak of? Why am I so special?”
Wilson could see the faint flickerings of a smile play about her wolf-like face as her elemental form dissapeared into the morning sun.
“I thought it was obvious,” Wilson heard faintly. “Maxwell.”
Wilson fell forward, his knees crunching into the shallow sands as the full realization of his approaching destiny enveloped him.
A continuation of Wilson's adventures in Anorost. See above for plane description.
Wilson marked another notch in the bark of the palm tree whose texture he had come to know so well. That marks the beginning of week four, he thought to himself. Despite all odds, I'm not doing too bad, considering.
For the past three weeks, after his disastrous encounter with Maxwell's army and his spell-induced whirlwinding into the unknown, Wilson had covered every inch of the isle he had been stranded on, fashioned a makeshift camp, and foraged enough food and tools to survive. Who knew doing chores in the old Wildbore village would ever prove to be useful?, he reminisced. There wasn't a day that I wouldn't groan about going and gathering berries in the woods.
CAW, CAW! The sound of a bird flapping past broke Wilson out of his reverie. Day twenty-two, he thought. That means it's time to get this thing out on the water. He slapped his hand on the makeshift bow of a wooden raft he had spliced together using boards from the shipwreck that had managed to follow him as well as sticks, leaves, vines, and anything else that he had deemed ship-worthy. Just gotta put on the finishing touches and we're good to go. His plan was a simple one. In the same manner in which he had explored the island he had been stranded on, Wilson intended to circle out until he found another one. Repeat ad infinitum until he found civilization - he had after all heard tales of folks who ventured out on the waves to the islands off the mainland where he was - or any other survivors of the pirateer crew he had been a member of before the catastrophe, if indeed there were any.
HEAVE, HEAVE, HEAVE! Wilson pushed and pulled until the makeshift raft was precariously half between the grasp of the shore and the waves, then he leapt on and pushed off with his (also makeshift) oar. Here goes nothing, Wilson thought, marking his first notch in the oar.
For the past three weeks, after his disastrous encounter with Maxwell's army and his spell-induced whirlwinding into the unknown, Wilson had covered every inch of the isle he had been stranded on, fashioned a makeshift camp, and foraged enough food and tools to survive. Who knew doing chores in the old Wildbore village would ever prove to be useful?, he reminisced. There wasn't a day that I wouldn't groan about going and gathering berries in the woods.
CAW, CAW! The sound of a bird flapping past broke Wilson out of his reverie. Day twenty-two, he thought. That means it's time to get this thing out on the water. He slapped his hand on the makeshift bow of a wooden raft he had spliced together using boards from the shipwreck that had managed to follow him as well as sticks, leaves, vines, and anything else that he had deemed ship-worthy. Just gotta put on the finishing touches and we're good to go. His plan was a simple one. In the same manner in which he had explored the island he had been stranded on, Wilson intended to circle out until he found another one. Repeat ad infinitum until he found civilization - he had after all heard tales of folks who ventured out on the waves to the islands off the mainland where he was - or any other survivors of the pirateer crew he had been a member of before the catastrophe, if indeed there were any.
HEAVE, HEAVE, HEAVE! Wilson pushed and pulled until the makeshift raft was precariously half between the grasp of the shore and the waves, then he leapt on and pushed off with his (also makeshift) oar. Here goes nothing, Wilson thought, marking his first notch in the oar.
Seventeen notches later, Wilson woke to a CRASH! He jerked his head up, the rest of his body following almost in slow motion until he was upright in a crouched position, tense. He glanced from side to side, then looked out of the cave entrance only to find that he couldn't see anything at all due to a sheet of torrential rain. Thunder, Wilson realized, and slumped into a resting position again. This is what I get when I decided to spend the night outside of my main camp... I just hope everything there stays where it's supposed to until I get back.
He had been sailing from island to island in what seemed like an archipelago off of the mainland he had originally landed on with the crew of pirateers he had arrived with. After seventeen days and five islands, he had gone far enough to realize he would not get back to his main camp before nightfall and had decided to spend the night in a cave he had found lest he lose his way in the dark. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the rainy season had chosen that exact night to begin. Seventeen days and still no sign of civilization, Wilson sighed. I wonder how far indeed I am away from the mainland.
Anyway, with the weather as it is right now, I've got not chance of leaving this cave safely. May as well settle down and try to ignore the thunder. Wilson lay his head on the pile of leaves and dirt he had fashioned into a pillow and closed his eyes again.
However, as soon as he did, Wilson heard another sound over the downpour. "Sheila!" And again, his eyes flew open. That wasn't thunder. "I can barely see you! Where are you going!?" To which there was a reply, "There's a cave up ahead! I can see it, just follow my voice!" Voices. Both female, it seemed, but one couls never be sure. Wilson climbed to his feet, wary. These could be survivors of his shipwreck, or the could be hostile natives who also were unfortunate enough to get caught in the storm. He took up a fishing net he had foraged in case it was the latter. It wasn't the best weapon, but he didn't have a lot of options here. He'd heard tales of cannibals off the coast of the mainland, and this seemed like an event in which they might be hungry. he stepped into the shadows behind an outcropping of stone to have the upper hand if this was the case.
It wasn't long before a shadow passed into the front of the cave entrance, blocking out a human-figure shape of the rain. It shook a large head of hair out of its vision before turning around, shouting "Faine! Up here!" The figure - Sheila, Wilson presumed - reached an arm out into the deluge. Another arm - Faine's - reached out and was dragged into the foreground by Sheila, revealing another human figure, also feminine. Both sat down, panting, within the mouth of the cave, outside of reach of the rain.
"Dear Storm," panted Faine. "I'm soaked." Then both started chuckling, relieved to be out of the tempest.
Wilson had managed to stay invisible to them up until this point, and had begun to consider approaches to either staying that way until the storm left or revealing himself in a diplomatic fashion. However, as it turned out, he didn't need to consider this for long. Sheila turned her head in an exploratory gaze toward the back of the cave wall, setting sight on Wilson's leftover ashes from his fire the previous night. She gasped and leapt up, tapping Faine on her shoulder. "There's someone else here." Faine gasped, leaping to her feet as well.
Well, they don't look armed, Wilson deliberated. And indeed, all they had between them was a sack soaked with rainwater containing, presumably, food, clothes, and survivability tools.
Coming to a decision, Wilson stepped out from the shadows, brandishing his net. "I'm not looking to hurt anyone if you're not going to hurt me." His voice felt raspy. He hadn't used it in about a month. Sheila and Faine tensed up, looking nervously at his provisional "weapons". Faine took the opportunity to speak, apprehensively. "We're just looking for shelter from the storm. We mean you no harm."
Wilson lowered the net slowly. "Very well. But make no mistake, I'm keeping this by my side if things get hairy."
"We're just survivors, trying to get back to the mainland." Sheila shot a silencing glare at Faine, indicating let me do the talking. "We'd appreciate any help, even if it's just a place to stay until the storm lets out."
Wilson relaxed visibly. "Survivors...? From..." he stopped. If they were natives, they couldn't possibly know about the catastrophe that had happened to Aelna's crew. He wouldn't readily mention her name lest they take advantage of it and pretend to know what he was talking about. "Well, if you are telling the truth, we can agree on one thing. We're both trying to get to the mainland."
It was Sheila's turn to relax, and Faine followed her lead. "I hope you don't mind, in that case, if we start up your fire once more? This rainwater is awfully cold." Sheila took a few steps forward tentatively.
Wilson tightened his grip on his net. "Wait a minute. Tell me where you came from. I have to make sure we're on the same side here."
Sheila opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Faine whispered, "Aelna." Sheila whipped her head back in another silencing glare, but Faine continued, her voice growing louder as she gained confidence. "We're part of Aelna's crew. Well, part of her former crew. And we're looking for her."
Wilson eased his tense body, releasing his grasp on his weapon. "I think we're going to get along just fine."
He had been sailing from island to island in what seemed like an archipelago off of the mainland he had originally landed on with the crew of pirateers he had arrived with. After seventeen days and five islands, he had gone far enough to realize he would not get back to his main camp before nightfall and had decided to spend the night in a cave he had found lest he lose his way in the dark. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the rainy season had chosen that exact night to begin. Seventeen days and still no sign of civilization, Wilson sighed. I wonder how far indeed I am away from the mainland.
Anyway, with the weather as it is right now, I've got not chance of leaving this cave safely. May as well settle down and try to ignore the thunder. Wilson lay his head on the pile of leaves and dirt he had fashioned into a pillow and closed his eyes again.
However, as soon as he did, Wilson heard another sound over the downpour. "Sheila!" And again, his eyes flew open. That wasn't thunder. "I can barely see you! Where are you going!?" To which there was a reply, "There's a cave up ahead! I can see it, just follow my voice!" Voices. Both female, it seemed, but one couls never be sure. Wilson climbed to his feet, wary. These could be survivors of his shipwreck, or the could be hostile natives who also were unfortunate enough to get caught in the storm. He took up a fishing net he had foraged in case it was the latter. It wasn't the best weapon, but he didn't have a lot of options here. He'd heard tales of cannibals off the coast of the mainland, and this seemed like an event in which they might be hungry. he stepped into the shadows behind an outcropping of stone to have the upper hand if this was the case.
It wasn't long before a shadow passed into the front of the cave entrance, blocking out a human-figure shape of the rain. It shook a large head of hair out of its vision before turning around, shouting "Faine! Up here!" The figure - Sheila, Wilson presumed - reached an arm out into the deluge. Another arm - Faine's - reached out and was dragged into the foreground by Sheila, revealing another human figure, also feminine. Both sat down, panting, within the mouth of the cave, outside of reach of the rain.
"Dear Storm," panted Faine. "I'm soaked." Then both started chuckling, relieved to be out of the tempest.
Wilson had managed to stay invisible to them up until this point, and had begun to consider approaches to either staying that way until the storm left or revealing himself in a diplomatic fashion. However, as it turned out, he didn't need to consider this for long. Sheila turned her head in an exploratory gaze toward the back of the cave wall, setting sight on Wilson's leftover ashes from his fire the previous night. She gasped and leapt up, tapping Faine on her shoulder. "There's someone else here." Faine gasped, leaping to her feet as well.
Well, they don't look armed, Wilson deliberated. And indeed, all they had between them was a sack soaked with rainwater containing, presumably, food, clothes, and survivability tools.
Coming to a decision, Wilson stepped out from the shadows, brandishing his net. "I'm not looking to hurt anyone if you're not going to hurt me." His voice felt raspy. He hadn't used it in about a month. Sheila and Faine tensed up, looking nervously at his provisional "weapons". Faine took the opportunity to speak, apprehensively. "We're just looking for shelter from the storm. We mean you no harm."
Wilson lowered the net slowly. "Very well. But make no mistake, I'm keeping this by my side if things get hairy."
"We're just survivors, trying to get back to the mainland." Sheila shot a silencing glare at Faine, indicating let me do the talking. "We'd appreciate any help, even if it's just a place to stay until the storm lets out."
Wilson relaxed visibly. "Survivors...? From..." he stopped. If they were natives, they couldn't possibly know about the catastrophe that had happened to Aelna's crew. He wouldn't readily mention her name lest they take advantage of it and pretend to know what he was talking about. "Well, if you are telling the truth, we can agree on one thing. We're both trying to get to the mainland."
It was Sheila's turn to relax, and Faine followed her lead. "I hope you don't mind, in that case, if we start up your fire once more? This rainwater is awfully cold." Sheila took a few steps forward tentatively.
Wilson tightened his grip on his net. "Wait a minute. Tell me where you came from. I have to make sure we're on the same side here."
Sheila opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Faine whispered, "Aelna." Sheila whipped her head back in another silencing glare, but Faine continued, her voice growing louder as she gained confidence. "We're part of Aelna's crew. Well, part of her former crew. And we're looking for her."
Wilson eased his tense body, releasing his grasp on his weapon. "I think we're going to get along just fine."
Wilson awoke groggily as a wisp of fog crept into the cave and stroked him. Fog... That was a different sensation than the rainywetness he had been feeling for the past three days and what he had come to expect in the morning. As he opened his eyes further and turned over toward the mouth of the cave, his hopes soared. A ray of sunlight, albeit flimsy, had cut through the wisps of fog at the cave entrance, revealing a lack of rain. The fog hadn't reach Faine and Sheila, asleep near the back of the cave, yet. Wilson let them be, crawling up to the cave's entrance and basking in the faint sunlight he had come to long for during the battering tempest that had raged for three days straight. He climbed out and sat on an overhang, watching the sun come up and banish the last vestiges of fog.
We were lucky to have enough rations to go around for that long, he considered. But then again, if we hadn't stayed cooped up for that long together, we might not have come to terms with each other's identities and plan.
Faine and Sheila had been common deckhands like Wilson on Aelna's crew. They and Wilson hadn't shared any common shifts on deck, but may have caught glimpses of each other in the mess hall. Not uncommon in a crew as large as Aelna's. In any case, any of them hadn't been memorable enough to have stuck in each other's minds. After sharing stories and reminiscing about good times on the sea, they had begun to come up with a plan to start heading toward their common goal: the mainland.
Wilson had mentioned his makeshift raft and asked if they knew, at least, what direction to go in. Faine and Sheila had shaken their heads, but shared their knowledge of a camp of natives about a day's walk in the direction they had come from.
"It was a miracle we weren't noticed." Sheila had said, relieved. They had all heard the tales of cannibals, it seemed.
"However..." Sheila had realized, "Those natives do have some things we can use, if we can get our hands on them."
Two and a half days of rain later, the three had had enough time to come up with a fairly decent plan, and were hopeful for the future and to get their feet on the mainland once more.
We were lucky to have enough rations to go around for that long, he considered. But then again, if we hadn't stayed cooped up for that long together, we might not have come to terms with each other's identities and plan.
Faine and Sheila had been common deckhands like Wilson on Aelna's crew. They and Wilson hadn't shared any common shifts on deck, but may have caught glimpses of each other in the mess hall. Not uncommon in a crew as large as Aelna's. In any case, any of them hadn't been memorable enough to have stuck in each other's minds. After sharing stories and reminiscing about good times on the sea, they had begun to come up with a plan to start heading toward their common goal: the mainland.
Wilson had mentioned his makeshift raft and asked if they knew, at least, what direction to go in. Faine and Sheila had shaken their heads, but shared their knowledge of a camp of natives about a day's walk in the direction they had come from.
"It was a miracle we weren't noticed." Sheila had said, relieved. They had all heard the tales of cannibals, it seemed.
"However..." Sheila had realized, "Those natives do have some things we can use, if we can get our hands on them."
Two and a half days of rain later, the three had had enough time to come up with a fairly decent plan, and were hopeful for the future and to get their feet on the mainland once more.
Sheila roused herself from her sleep, opening her eyes slowly as she felt a feeling she hadn't felt in days. Warmth. She quickly turned her head toward the cave entrance, revealing Wilson looking into the forest outside, framed in sunlight. She jumped up, shouting "Wilson!" Wilson started, turned his head, smiled. "Why didn't you wake us up? Today's the day!"
"Exactly. You all need all the rest you can get if we're going to pull this off."
Faine awoke groggily from the commotion. "...Sunlight," she whispered. "Thank Salt."
After a quick breakfast, throughout which Sheila kept telling Wilson they "should have woken up earlier, we're going to need all the time possible to pull this off" and Wilson kept responding calmly with "would you rather we try this with sleep-deprived brains?", the three of them got their feet out of the cave and walking toward the camp of the natives.
The forest they walked through, after the three-day storm, was quiet. The only sounds were their sploshy footsteps and the dripping of caught rainwater through the branches. Its large swathes of uncut undergrowth and vines led Wilson to classify it as more of a jungle than a forest. Sheila and Faine did their best to lead them back the same exact route they had come from, but the storm had uprooted trees and broken branches, so they had to take more than a few roundabout routes.
True to Sheila's word, by twilight they found themselves entering a more tame version of the wild jungle they had been traversing. A sign of civilization to be sure. If that civilization was to be trusted? Not as sure. They continued, more careful now to stay behind trees and in the twilight's shadow as to keep out of view of pervasive natives.
Eventually they came to the edge of a clearing, in the middle of which a fortified wall of tree trunks lined with illuminated torches stood. Native soldiers, barely clothed, with stick-and-stone spears or bows, stood on patrol. Wilson, Sheila, and Faine circled around, taking stock of the area. Sheila cocked her head, whispering "That's our target." Outside of the walls, a hole in the ground, surrounded by a circle of stones, with a wooden bucket and rope next to it. A well. Unguarded. Wilson and Faine nodded and moved into the shadows behind trees.
They didn't have to wait long. A young man soon approached, holding a large bucket on top of his head. When he arrived next to the well, he set it down and lowered the smaller bucket into the ground. As he was doing so, Sheila was moving through the forest's cover to be behind him. He finished lowering the bucket and had begun pulling it up, looking into the well as he did so. Sheila took this chance to sneak up behind him and get him into a quick chokehold, muffling any possible noises he could make. The man took his hands off the rope in favor of Sheila's arms, and the bucket fell into the water, making a splash. "Shhhhh... listen to me. No one can hear you." The young man, shouting with voice muffled, became silent. "Good." Sheila pushed the man so that his knees were on the rocks of the well, and so that his body was teetering over the hole. "Try anything, and... you catch my drift?" The man vigorously nodded.
"Also good. Now. I'm looking for a ship. Got any leads?" The man tried to speak, but nothing came out but muffles. Sheila shook her head. "Nuh uh. I'm looking for a yes or no." The man hesitated, then nodded. "Is that a yes to 'yes or no', or yes to 'I can get you a ship?'" The man looked confused. Sheila pushed him farther so his knees began to slip on the rocks. He then began nodded vigorously and fighting in Sheila's grip to stay out of the hole. "Alrighty then. Looks like we've got ourselves a ship." She pulled the unfortunate man back from the edge and motioned for Wilson and Sheila to come out. They did so, brandishing their makeshift sticks and stones. "If you so much as speak a word while you bring us to your ship... we'll make sure you can't speak words ever." The man nodded vigorously again.
Sheila unfastened her chokehold and the man jumped away, crawling from the hole of the well. Wilson and Faine ran to surround him on either side so that his escape options would be limited.
"I... know a..." the man gasped for breath. "I know a back way into... the harbor."
Sheila grinned. "Looks like we caught ourselves a good one, folks!"
"Exactly. You all need all the rest you can get if we're going to pull this off."
Faine awoke groggily from the commotion. "...Sunlight," she whispered. "Thank Salt."
After a quick breakfast, throughout which Sheila kept telling Wilson they "should have woken up earlier, we're going to need all the time possible to pull this off" and Wilson kept responding calmly with "would you rather we try this with sleep-deprived brains?", the three of them got their feet out of the cave and walking toward the camp of the natives.
The forest they walked through, after the three-day storm, was quiet. The only sounds were their sploshy footsteps and the dripping of caught rainwater through the branches. Its large swathes of uncut undergrowth and vines led Wilson to classify it as more of a jungle than a forest. Sheila and Faine did their best to lead them back the same exact route they had come from, but the storm had uprooted trees and broken branches, so they had to take more than a few roundabout routes.
True to Sheila's word, by twilight they found themselves entering a more tame version of the wild jungle they had been traversing. A sign of civilization to be sure. If that civilization was to be trusted? Not as sure. They continued, more careful now to stay behind trees and in the twilight's shadow as to keep out of view of pervasive natives.
Eventually they came to the edge of a clearing, in the middle of which a fortified wall of tree trunks lined with illuminated torches stood. Native soldiers, barely clothed, with stick-and-stone spears or bows, stood on patrol. Wilson, Sheila, and Faine circled around, taking stock of the area. Sheila cocked her head, whispering "That's our target." Outside of the walls, a hole in the ground, surrounded by a circle of stones, with a wooden bucket and rope next to it. A well. Unguarded. Wilson and Faine nodded and moved into the shadows behind trees.
They didn't have to wait long. A young man soon approached, holding a large bucket on top of his head. When he arrived next to the well, he set it down and lowered the smaller bucket into the ground. As he was doing so, Sheila was moving through the forest's cover to be behind him. He finished lowering the bucket and had begun pulling it up, looking into the well as he did so. Sheila took this chance to sneak up behind him and get him into a quick chokehold, muffling any possible noises he could make. The man took his hands off the rope in favor of Sheila's arms, and the bucket fell into the water, making a splash. "Shhhhh... listen to me. No one can hear you." The young man, shouting with voice muffled, became silent. "Good." Sheila pushed the man so that his knees were on the rocks of the well, and so that his body was teetering over the hole. "Try anything, and... you catch my drift?" The man vigorously nodded.
"Also good. Now. I'm looking for a ship. Got any leads?" The man tried to speak, but nothing came out but muffles. Sheila shook her head. "Nuh uh. I'm looking for a yes or no." The man hesitated, then nodded. "Is that a yes to 'yes or no', or yes to 'I can get you a ship?'" The man looked confused. Sheila pushed him farther so his knees began to slip on the rocks. He then began nodded vigorously and fighting in Sheila's grip to stay out of the hole. "Alrighty then. Looks like we've got ourselves a ship." She pulled the unfortunate man back from the edge and motioned for Wilson and Sheila to come out. They did so, brandishing their makeshift sticks and stones. "If you so much as speak a word while you bring us to your ship... we'll make sure you can't speak words ever." The man nodded vigorously again.
Sheila unfastened her chokehold and the man jumped away, crawling from the hole of the well. Wilson and Faine ran to surround him on either side so that his escape options would be limited.
"I... know a..." the man gasped for breath. "I know a back way into... the harbor."
Sheila grinned. "Looks like we caught ourselves a good one, folks!"
"Why are we waiting?" Sheila leaned her head over the edge of their new stolen ship.
The theft had gone as smoothly as it could have possibly gone. In the cover of night, the four of them had snuck through a hole dug underneath a part of the wooden tree trunk wall. Everyone in the village was either asleep or, by some lucky chance, looking the other way.
"He wants to come with us." Wilson told her from the dock.
"What? Just because he helped us escape doesn't mean we're friends!"
"Show some thanks! He probably wouldn't have helped us in the first place if he wasn't considering leaving in the first place!"
"Whatever. I'll be getting the rigging and sails ready." Sheila turned and strode off.
"She'll come around."
"Is she not the one who strangled me? I am not sure she'll come around..." The man's voice was heavily accented. Wilson was surprised he knew their language, and chuckled.
"What's your name anyway?" He asked.
"Ghak. Yours?"
"Wilson. She's Sheila, and she," gesturing at Faine, who was climbing the rope ladder onto the boat, "is Faine."
Ghak nodded in Faine's direction, who returned the gesture. Wilson pointed for him to follow her, saying "Welcome to the crew." Ghak bowed, responding "Thank you. It has been a... thought... of mine, to leave this place and see what lives beyond the water. It seems... I needed only the... courage?"
Ghak clambered up the rope, then called to Sheila. "Let me help. I know these ships better than you do."
Sheila laughed. "Really? 'Cause I've been a pirateer for seven years. You get to know the sea more than you know the land." Wilson followed them up, checking the deck for any activities he could enact to make their journey any quicker.
It took a few hours for the four-person crew to get everything shipshape. They managed to raise the anchor just as the sun was peeking its eyes above the distant horizon. They all felt the sea breeze in their face and hair; a long-awaited sensation.
"What are you going to do once we get there?" Ghak spoke to Wilson as they faced the rising sun.
"Let's just say... destiny has its eyes on me."
The theft had gone as smoothly as it could have possibly gone. In the cover of night, the four of them had snuck through a hole dug underneath a part of the wooden tree trunk wall. Everyone in the village was either asleep or, by some lucky chance, looking the other way.
"He wants to come with us." Wilson told her from the dock.
"What? Just because he helped us escape doesn't mean we're friends!"
"Show some thanks! He probably wouldn't have helped us in the first place if he wasn't considering leaving in the first place!"
"Whatever. I'll be getting the rigging and sails ready." Sheila turned and strode off.
"She'll come around."
"Is she not the one who strangled me? I am not sure she'll come around..." The man's voice was heavily accented. Wilson was surprised he knew their language, and chuckled.
"What's your name anyway?" He asked.
"Ghak. Yours?"
"Wilson. She's Sheila, and she," gesturing at Faine, who was climbing the rope ladder onto the boat, "is Faine."
Ghak nodded in Faine's direction, who returned the gesture. Wilson pointed for him to follow her, saying "Welcome to the crew." Ghak bowed, responding "Thank you. It has been a... thought... of mine, to leave this place and see what lives beyond the water. It seems... I needed only the... courage?"
Ghak clambered up the rope, then called to Sheila. "Let me help. I know these ships better than you do."
Sheila laughed. "Really? 'Cause I've been a pirateer for seven years. You get to know the sea more than you know the land." Wilson followed them up, checking the deck for any activities he could enact to make their journey any quicker.
It took a few hours for the four-person crew to get everything shipshape. They managed to raise the anchor just as the sun was peeking its eyes above the distant horizon. They all felt the sea breeze in their face and hair; a long-awaited sensation.
"What are you going to do once we get there?" Ghak spoke to Wilson as they faced the rising sun.
"Let's just say... destiny has its eyes on me."
“Have you ever seen one so big?” The crew shook their heads as Sheila gazed in awe at the colossal leviathan that floated peacefully in front of them beneath the waves. “Seven years out at sea, and this is the largest jillyfish I’ve laid eyes on.” The crew stood for a minute, marveling at the thing’s beauteous grotequeness.
Wilson felt a drop of water hit his cheek. Rain? Now? But as he glanced up, he saw the sky was empty. Then… He looked from side to side, noting that his Faine and Ghak were also looking into the sky confusedly as if they had been hit as well. Then a shadow crossed his vision. Wave, thought Wilson. “Grab hold of something!” he shouted as he grasped the rails of the deck. “Tight, and don’t let-”
He was interrupted by a gurgle as the wave’s strength hit him. He didn’t have time to check if anyone had heard or heeded his call, much less take a breath, before he was surrounded by salty water. Where had that come from? Not two minutes earlier they were cruising along with the wind at their back.
The water subsided, and Wilson gasped for air.He shook the water out of his hair and eyes, searching with blurry vision for his crewmates. “Is everyone alright?” He heard coughing. Ghak, he recognized. And Faine. As his vision cleared, he shouted “Sheila!?” Faine responded, “She’s… over here.” Wilson followed her voice to find Sheila unconscious. Her head had hit the mast when the wave struck, but she somehow hadn’t been dragged off. As soon as Wilson eased back, relieved that everyone was still with them, another shadow crossed his vision. This time accompanied by an inhuman screeching.
Wilson whipped his head around to the rear of the ship, where an astounding sight awaited.
A hulking octopus reared its ugly maw in front of them, screeching death and destruction. Wisps of purple fog wrapped around its head, and as it brandished its tentacles, Wilson could see that the fog extended all alongside its body. Wilson had only seen that fog in one other place, and that was when they had faced Maxwell’s army.
Ghak thought quicker than any of them. “Wilson, Faine, get sails ready and get away quick. I get cannon.”
Wilson blinked. “This thing has a cannon?” Ghak was belowdeck before he could get a response.
Faine whimpered in fear beside the unconscious Sheila. “Sheila, wake up! We need you with us!” Faine shook her with no luck. It was all Wilson could do to stop himself from freezing in fear, but he knew that in order to get out of this pickle alive, they had to get the sails up and running.
The octopus’s tentacles wrapped around the rails of the ship. Wilson said fiercely, “Leave her.” Faine, startled, looked up. “She’s not going to wake anytime soon after a hit like that. We need to focus on getting us out of here alive.” Faine nodded, then steeled herself. She stood as Wilson ran to the other side of the rigging. “Help me with the ropes!”
Wilson heard a BANG! followed by another round of animalistic screeching. Ghak had blown a cannonball into the great octopus’s head. The tentacles, which were nearing the powerless Sheila, retracted somewhat. “Yes! You’re doing great, Ghak!” Wilson shouted in encouragement.
Wilson and Faine tightened the ropes and felt some pressure as the wind began to catch the sails once more. BANG! Sccrreeeeeaaacccchhhh!! The tentacles uncurled themselves from the ship’s rails, and the crew fell backward as a gust of wind threw the craft away from the monster.
“Hahaha!” exulted Ghak. “That was first time I used cannon outside of practice range!” Wilson and Faine grinned. They had survived this test at least. That explains the rogue wave, thought Wilson. But what I don’t understand is that all-too-familiar purple fog… Faine cried in joy, “And that’s not all that’s lucky for us! I see land!”
Sure enough, the telltale blur of growth on the horizon told them which way the mainland was. Ghak pulled out a spyglass to take a peek at his lifelong dream. After he had drunk in his fill of the beaches and palm trees he had longed for for so long, he passed the spyglass to Faine. After taking a look, she gasped. “I know this place. And from it… I know where town is!”
Wilson felt a drop of water hit his cheek. Rain? Now? But as he glanced up, he saw the sky was empty. Then… He looked from side to side, noting that his Faine and Ghak were also looking into the sky confusedly as if they had been hit as well. Then a shadow crossed his vision. Wave, thought Wilson. “Grab hold of something!” he shouted as he grasped the rails of the deck. “Tight, and don’t let-”
He was interrupted by a gurgle as the wave’s strength hit him. He didn’t have time to check if anyone had heard or heeded his call, much less take a breath, before he was surrounded by salty water. Where had that come from? Not two minutes earlier they were cruising along with the wind at their back.
The water subsided, and Wilson gasped for air.He shook the water out of his hair and eyes, searching with blurry vision for his crewmates. “Is everyone alright?” He heard coughing. Ghak, he recognized. And Faine. As his vision cleared, he shouted “Sheila!?” Faine responded, “She’s… over here.” Wilson followed her voice to find Sheila unconscious. Her head had hit the mast when the wave struck, but she somehow hadn’t been dragged off. As soon as Wilson eased back, relieved that everyone was still with them, another shadow crossed his vision. This time accompanied by an inhuman screeching.
Wilson whipped his head around to the rear of the ship, where an astounding sight awaited.
A hulking octopus reared its ugly maw in front of them, screeching death and destruction. Wisps of purple fog wrapped around its head, and as it brandished its tentacles, Wilson could see that the fog extended all alongside its body. Wilson had only seen that fog in one other place, and that was when they had faced Maxwell’s army.
Ghak thought quicker than any of them. “Wilson, Faine, get sails ready and get away quick. I get cannon.”
Wilson blinked. “This thing has a cannon?” Ghak was belowdeck before he could get a response.
Faine whimpered in fear beside the unconscious Sheila. “Sheila, wake up! We need you with us!” Faine shook her with no luck. It was all Wilson could do to stop himself from freezing in fear, but he knew that in order to get out of this pickle alive, they had to get the sails up and running.
The octopus’s tentacles wrapped around the rails of the ship. Wilson said fiercely, “Leave her.” Faine, startled, looked up. “She’s not going to wake anytime soon after a hit like that. We need to focus on getting us out of here alive.” Faine nodded, then steeled herself. She stood as Wilson ran to the other side of the rigging. “Help me with the ropes!”
Wilson heard a BANG! followed by another round of animalistic screeching. Ghak had blown a cannonball into the great octopus’s head. The tentacles, which were nearing the powerless Sheila, retracted somewhat. “Yes! You’re doing great, Ghak!” Wilson shouted in encouragement.
Wilson and Faine tightened the ropes and felt some pressure as the wind began to catch the sails once more. BANG! Sccrreeeeeaaacccchhhh!! The tentacles uncurled themselves from the ship’s rails, and the crew fell backward as a gust of wind threw the craft away from the monster.
“Hahaha!” exulted Ghak. “That was first time I used cannon outside of practice range!” Wilson and Faine grinned. They had survived this test at least. That explains the rogue wave, thought Wilson. But what I don’t understand is that all-too-familiar purple fog… Faine cried in joy, “And that’s not all that’s lucky for us! I see land!”
Sure enough, the telltale blur of growth on the horizon told them which way the mainland was. Ghak pulled out a spyglass to take a peek at his lifelong dream. After he had drunk in his fill of the beaches and palm trees he had longed for for so long, he passed the spyglass to Faine. After taking a look, she gasped. “I know this place. And from it… I know where town is!”
As soon as the crew had docked and disembarked on the dry land of the mainland once more, Sheila was rearing her head to go out to sea once more. "This gal wasn't meant to be on land for more than a minute at a time. I was born at sea and I'll die there too. Faine, come on!"
She strode over to a burly man who was looking for recruits for his crew. "You look... familiar. Have I seen you before? My previous crew was with Aelna. Does that name ring a bell?"
The man chuckled. "You made it! Another survivor of catastrophe. You'll fit in just fine on my crew then. I'm Zu, the new captain of Aelna's old crew. I was the first of her crew who made my way back here. After learning that she was nowhere to be found, I decided to step up as captain, as her first mate was also lost or drowned."
Sheila bowed her head in recognition of the man's title as well as in mourning for her old captain and first mate. She turned to Faine and said, "What do you say, old matey? Faine grinned and stepped forward, introducing herself to the new captain. Both then turned to Ghak and Wilson. Ghak put on a thinking face, and as he was making up his mind Wilson spoke up.
"This is your path to follow. I've got my own. If Serene smiles upon us we may meet again, but I've got to go inland and up." Sheila and Faine nodded, saying goodbye. "It's been a life-changing voyage." Sheila said. "I'm glad we met," piped up Faine.
Ghak raised his head, resolute. "I cannot go with you either. The goal of my journey is to explore inland as well, even if it means splitting up from you and from Wilson."
They said their goodbyes and thanks and each went their separate ways, Sheila and Faine to board Zu's ship, Ghak down a lamplit side street, and Wilson down the main road he had entered the city from all those months back. As he was walking off of the docks and onto the cobbled roads, he heard a muffled BARK! He stiffened. Could it be...?
He turned around, and off of Zu's ship bounded a familiar face. "CHESTER!" Wilson shouted with glee. He ran towards him, letting him jump into his arms. "I thought I'd seen the last of you!" Wilson breathed, relieved, as Chester licked his face all over and settled into his warm embrace.
She strode over to a burly man who was looking for recruits for his crew. "You look... familiar. Have I seen you before? My previous crew was with Aelna. Does that name ring a bell?"
The man chuckled. "You made it! Another survivor of catastrophe. You'll fit in just fine on my crew then. I'm Zu, the new captain of Aelna's old crew. I was the first of her crew who made my way back here. After learning that she was nowhere to be found, I decided to step up as captain, as her first mate was also lost or drowned."
Sheila bowed her head in recognition of the man's title as well as in mourning for her old captain and first mate. She turned to Faine and said, "What do you say, old matey? Faine grinned and stepped forward, introducing herself to the new captain. Both then turned to Ghak and Wilson. Ghak put on a thinking face, and as he was making up his mind Wilson spoke up.
"This is your path to follow. I've got my own. If Serene smiles upon us we may meet again, but I've got to go inland and up." Sheila and Faine nodded, saying goodbye. "It's been a life-changing voyage." Sheila said. "I'm glad we met," piped up Faine.
Ghak raised his head, resolute. "I cannot go with you either. The goal of my journey is to explore inland as well, even if it means splitting up from you and from Wilson."
They said their goodbyes and thanks and each went their separate ways, Sheila and Faine to board Zu's ship, Ghak down a lamplit side street, and Wilson down the main road he had entered the city from all those months back. As he was walking off of the docks and onto the cobbled roads, he heard a muffled BARK! He stiffened. Could it be...?
He turned around, and off of Zu's ship bounded a familiar face. "CHESTER!" Wilson shouted with glee. He ran towards him, letting him jump into his arms. "I thought I'd seen the last of you!" Wilson breathed, relieved, as Chester licked his face all over and settled into his warm embrace.
Wilson followed the sound of Chester's exploratory sniffling through the dark caverns. They had spent the last two days venturing into the caves from which they had come in the first place, and at the other side of which was his homeland of Wildbore. His makeshift torch had run out after a mere day's worth of travel, but he had been too far in to decide that going back to get a new one was the right choice. He and Chester had weathered on, using Chester's great sense of smell and occasional clumps of bioluminesent lichen to lead their way. Their journey had thus far been uneventful, albeit slow.
HUFF...
Wilson froze.
Wilson felt along the cave wall. There! A crevice. He wiggled his way in, feeling farther in more and more until the space was too thin to go any farther. Chester squeezed in along with him, rubbbing against his legs. They both held their breath, hoping against hope that whatever this creature was would deem their location to difficult to reach. A faint wind reached them as the thing passed by their hiding place, then stilled. And again. And then a scraping. Claws against stone. A whiff of an unholy stench as the being reached a claw-headed limb into their crevice, growling as it did so. Then... it retracted. Another breath of wind as the thing moved away, looking for easier prey.
Wilson and Chester exhaled, then waited another few minutes to make sure it had really gone before sliding out of the crevice and continuing upward.
Not long after, Wilson pulled himself and Chester up onto another crag of cold stone, then raised his head to feel a welcome sensation - that of fresh air. He gasped. Forty feet or so above them they glimpsed a ray of sunlight. They had made it. Then Wilson felt a great pain in his head and collapsed unconscious.
In the darkness of his sleep Wilson heard a deep chuckling. He looked around, searching for its source, but this nightmare was darker than the caves had been. The chuckling rumbled all around him, deepening and becoming more robust. It wasn't coming from a specific place- more from all around him. His surroundings were slowly illuminated by a soft purple glow, and as his eyes adjusted to the low light level he realized that he was in a world of fog. Purple fog. The chuckling by this point had evolved into a sinister laughter, one that was accompanied by a great wind. The fog blinded him as it rushed toward his vision just as the laughter deafened his hearing.
GASP! Wilson awoke to Chester's whimpering and soft tongue on his face. After realizing that Wilson was awake, Chester yipped in relief and barked upwards, indicating his desire to reach the surface.
How long have I been out? Wilson wondered. He stood warily, then stumbled as dizziness got the better of him. That nightmare was the most real one I've had since... since I was on Aelna's ship. Maxwell's influence is growing stronger the more I continue on this journey. He considered heading back, laying low in the harbor town, maybe joining Zu's new crew. He stopped himself. Am I crazy? He reasoned.
I know from Aelna's experiences that these nightmares will only get worse, no matter where I go. The only thing I can do is confront them.
He steeled his resolve and began climbing, Chester at his side. As he dragged himself up the final crags to reach the end of the cave system, he noted, "Looks like we're back where we started, Chester..."
HUFF...
Wilson froze.
Wilson felt along the cave wall. There! A crevice. He wiggled his way in, feeling farther in more and more until the space was too thin to go any farther. Chester squeezed in along with him, rubbbing against his legs. They both held their breath, hoping against hope that whatever this creature was would deem their location to difficult to reach. A faint wind reached them as the thing passed by their hiding place, then stilled. And again. And then a scraping. Claws against stone. A whiff of an unholy stench as the being reached a claw-headed limb into their crevice, growling as it did so. Then... it retracted. Another breath of wind as the thing moved away, looking for easier prey.
Wilson and Chester exhaled, then waited another few minutes to make sure it had really gone before sliding out of the crevice and continuing upward.
Not long after, Wilson pulled himself and Chester up onto another crag of cold stone, then raised his head to feel a welcome sensation - that of fresh air. He gasped. Forty feet or so above them they glimpsed a ray of sunlight. They had made it. Then Wilson felt a great pain in his head and collapsed unconscious.
In the darkness of his sleep Wilson heard a deep chuckling. He looked around, searching for its source, but this nightmare was darker than the caves had been. The chuckling rumbled all around him, deepening and becoming more robust. It wasn't coming from a specific place- more from all around him. His surroundings were slowly illuminated by a soft purple glow, and as his eyes adjusted to the low light level he realized that he was in a world of fog. Purple fog. The chuckling by this point had evolved into a sinister laughter, one that was accompanied by a great wind. The fog blinded him as it rushed toward his vision just as the laughter deafened his hearing.
GASP! Wilson awoke to Chester's whimpering and soft tongue on his face. After realizing that Wilson was awake, Chester yipped in relief and barked upwards, indicating his desire to reach the surface.
How long have I been out? Wilson wondered. He stood warily, then stumbled as dizziness got the better of him. That nightmare was the most real one I've had since... since I was on Aelna's ship. Maxwell's influence is growing stronger the more I continue on this journey. He considered heading back, laying low in the harbor town, maybe joining Zu's new crew. He stopped himself. Am I crazy? He reasoned.
I know from Aelna's experiences that these nightmares will only get worse, no matter where I go. The only thing I can do is confront them.
He steeled his resolve and began climbing, Chester at his side. As he dragged himself up the final crags to reach the end of the cave system, he noted, "Looks like we're back where we started, Chester..."
Something terrible has happened here. It was easy to see. The purple-tinted earth looked parched, and what little vegetation Wilson could make out here and there was dead or dying. "Maxwell and his army really did a number on this place, huh Chester." Chester whimpered in agreement. What's his goal, anyway? What does he hope to achieve by marring the beautiful landscape like this? What little sunlight seeped from the sky also had a purplish hue, and as the two of them began walking, clouds covered the light. Wind began tugging at Wilson's clothes, pushing him in a direction he did not recognize. He felt a powerful presence from that direction, and one look at Chester confirmed his sensation was a shared one. Purple strings of fog appeared, being tugged by the same winds. Remember, thought Wilson. The only way to get rid of these nightmares is to confont them. Wilson and Chester pushed onwards.
A small shadow appeared close to the ground in front of them. Chester barked at it, and Wilson started. He looked up, thinking its source might be a bird up above them. But no, the skies were empty save for the clouds. If there's no sun, why would there be a shadow? Wilson thought. Then the shadow hopped toward them. Chester growled menacingly, and the shadow bounded away. "Chester... that looked like a... rabbit?" If the land has been marred like this... Is this the effect it's having on the local wildlife?
The "rabbit", or shadow of a former rabbit, proved to be the first of many wildlife sightings. As Wilson and Chester traversed the plain, they saw more and more shadows. Despite their obvious change in appearance, they were docile enough to let him pass, even fearful of him, or of themselves Wilson realized. In addition to seeing deer, bears, and rabbits, Wilson noted that even large unmoving shadows populated the landscape. Evergreens...
After a few hours of walking, Wilson spotted a large building in the distance. Above it was a circle of clouds. It seemed like all of the clouds that had been hanging above them this whole time had converged on this one location. The wisps of fog that the wind had been tugging on ended by the gates to this building as well. "Looks like we found our eveil hideout." whispered Wilson. Chester just whimpered louder than before, but steeled himself to his task of protecting his friend.
Wilson suddenly felt a great pain in his temples. He fell to his knees, trembling. Chester licked him in concern. Then he heard a voice. A comforting one, femenine, motherlike. And yet commanding. Serene. Be careful, my child, it boomed in his mind. Maxwell is powerful. There is a strong chance that he will overcome you and all you hold dear.
Wilson shuddered. "How... how do I stop him?" He sensed a sad smile from beyond, whereever Serene was. He will try to kill you. Wilson shouted, frustrated with Serene. "You're not answering my question! How do I ensure my survival, and of those I hold dear!?" Serene whispered, fading from his mind already. Hush. How to prevent your death? Have a strong will.
His pain, and Serene, vanished from his mind. Wilson stayed kneeling, trembling, as Chester licked him concernedly. "That wasn't very helpful..." And yet, I must continue. To free myself and all others who suffer my pain.
A small shadow appeared close to the ground in front of them. Chester barked at it, and Wilson started. He looked up, thinking its source might be a bird up above them. But no, the skies were empty save for the clouds. If there's no sun, why would there be a shadow? Wilson thought. Then the shadow hopped toward them. Chester growled menacingly, and the shadow bounded away. "Chester... that looked like a... rabbit?" If the land has been marred like this... Is this the effect it's having on the local wildlife?
The "rabbit", or shadow of a former rabbit, proved to be the first of many wildlife sightings. As Wilson and Chester traversed the plain, they saw more and more shadows. Despite their obvious change in appearance, they were docile enough to let him pass, even fearful of him, or of themselves Wilson realized. In addition to seeing deer, bears, and rabbits, Wilson noted that even large unmoving shadows populated the landscape. Evergreens...
After a few hours of walking, Wilson spotted a large building in the distance. Above it was a circle of clouds. It seemed like all of the clouds that had been hanging above them this whole time had converged on this one location. The wisps of fog that the wind had been tugging on ended by the gates to this building as well. "Looks like we found our eveil hideout." whispered Wilson. Chester just whimpered louder than before, but steeled himself to his task of protecting his friend.
Wilson suddenly felt a great pain in his temples. He fell to his knees, trembling. Chester licked him in concern. Then he heard a voice. A comforting one, femenine, motherlike. And yet commanding. Serene. Be careful, my child, it boomed in his mind. Maxwell is powerful. There is a strong chance that he will overcome you and all you hold dear.
Wilson shuddered. "How... how do I stop him?" He sensed a sad smile from beyond, whereever Serene was. He will try to kill you. Wilson shouted, frustrated with Serene. "You're not answering my question! How do I ensure my survival, and of those I hold dear!?" Serene whispered, fading from his mind already. Hush. How to prevent your death? Have a strong will.
His pain, and Serene, vanished from his mind. Wilson stayed kneeling, trembling, as Chester licked him concernedly. "That wasn't very helpful..." And yet, I must continue. To free myself and all others who suffer my pain.
Wilson knelt in the shadow of a shadow. That is to say, the shadow of a tree, but this tree was only a shadow of its former self. He leaned out from behind it so that he could see the castle walls and sighed. "It's impenetrable." He frowned. "But that won't stop us from trying, now will it, Chester?" Chester growled determinedly in response.
They had waited until dark, inspired by their previous stealthy mission with Sheila and Faine at the native village. Only this time, the walls they were trying to break into were made of stone, and there was no external well for them to attack. There were potential hostages - guards lined the parapets of the walls. But there was no way to get to them, much less hold them hostage against all of the other henchpeople with weapons.
The more I think about this, the less it seems like the previous infiltration, Wilson thought worriedly. But he began sneaking toward the castle walls despite his best interests. Through a mixture of the cover of dark, purple wisps of fog, and clouds, he and Chester managed to find the firm stone walls of the building without being seen. Now, toward the back of the castle. There's gotta be a back entrance, or sewer... Wilson didn't want to think about that last part, but he would do anything necessary to face Maxwell at this point. They pushed onward, keeping close to the walls.
As he turned the corner, reaching the back side of the castle, Wilson felt a texture that wasn't stone. Wood, he thought. A door. He turned to face it, feeling its rough surface, then pushed. Nothing. This door was designed to only open one way. Out. nevertheless, he pushed harder, Chester lending him his aid. The door didn't budge.
WHACK!
The door suddenly flew outward, sending Wilson and Chester flying backward. Wilson heard voices - "Get him!" "Who is that?" "A sneak! A thief, maybe?" but in his dizzy state could not get his vision to focus on who was speaking. Over Chester's barking and growling he heard "Get him to Maxwell, see what he says. And someone please muzzle that mutt!" Rough hands grabbed Wilson as he heard Chester's barking cut off abruptly. His hands were tied and he was shepherded fiercely into the castle.
They had waited until dark, inspired by their previous stealthy mission with Sheila and Faine at the native village. Only this time, the walls they were trying to break into were made of stone, and there was no external well for them to attack. There were potential hostages - guards lined the parapets of the walls. But there was no way to get to them, much less hold them hostage against all of the other henchpeople with weapons.
The more I think about this, the less it seems like the previous infiltration, Wilson thought worriedly. But he began sneaking toward the castle walls despite his best interests. Through a mixture of the cover of dark, purple wisps of fog, and clouds, he and Chester managed to find the firm stone walls of the building without being seen. Now, toward the back of the castle. There's gotta be a back entrance, or sewer... Wilson didn't want to think about that last part, but he would do anything necessary to face Maxwell at this point. They pushed onward, keeping close to the walls.
As he turned the corner, reaching the back side of the castle, Wilson felt a texture that wasn't stone. Wood, he thought. A door. He turned to face it, feeling its rough surface, then pushed. Nothing. This door was designed to only open one way. Out. nevertheless, he pushed harder, Chester lending him his aid. The door didn't budge.
WHACK!
The door suddenly flew outward, sending Wilson and Chester flying backward. Wilson heard voices - "Get him!" "Who is that?" "A sneak! A thief, maybe?" but in his dizzy state could not get his vision to focus on who was speaking. Over Chester's barking and growling he heard "Get him to Maxwell, see what he says. And someone please muzzle that mutt!" Rough hands grabbed Wilson as he heard Chester's barking cut off abruptly. His hands were tied and he was shepherded fiercely into the castle.
Wilson was brought through countless musty stone corridors until he was finally led into a great hall, carpeted and glimmering with candlelight. In the center of it stood a massive glass tank, almost reaching the ceiling of the room, about three-quarters full of a oily purple liquid. On each side of the tank were two metal cyclinders, about average human height. Between them stood an unfriendly looking metal chair with straps and syringes attached to it.
On each wall, tables held books and papers as well as vials of purple liquid. Maxwell stood at one of them, hands splayed on its surface, reading a text intently.
"Sir?" One of Wilson's captors spoke. "We caught a potential thief trying to sneak into the castle. Should we put him with the others?"
Maxwell turned. His figure was tall, lanky. His dark hair lay on his head like a rug. Wilson knew it was him, the same presence from his nightmares. He smiled, and Wilson shuddered in remembrance of the spooky chuckling and sinister laughter from his dreams. No, Wilson thought. Fight the fear. To survive, I must have a strong will. He resolved to keep a stone face as Maxwell strolled up to reach him.
"No, no. Keep him here for a while." That voice. That voice that had been torturing his nightmares for months somehow seemed even more evil in the flesh.
"You have... remarkable conviction. I'll give you that. It's not often we catch someone near our castle grounds, much less someone trying to sneak in. What is your purpose, I wonder." Wilson opened his mouth to reply, but Maxwell quickly put a finger to his lips. "Was it perhaps to get a sip of my famous elixir, guaranteed to awake powers you didn't even know you had?" As Maxwell said this, some of his henchmen glanced at him in lust, then at the colossal tank of purple. Maxwell chuckled. "You might have to wait, it's still in beta. And there's a long waitlist."
"Or... don't tell me... you have friends here? It wasn't that long ago we received a shipment of willing test subjects for the advancement of the research for said elixir. They were..." He turned to one of his guards. "From the sea, no? They had a ship... what did they call themselves? Pirateers?"
Wilsons breath caught in his throat, and he whispered with some effort, "Let me see them."
Maxwell's smile broadened. "A ha! Not so fast." He turned to Wilson once more. "As I was saying, you have remarkable conviction. You could have abandoned your people and gone on with your life, but no. You had the courage, and the gall, to follow them, all the way straight to me. And I admire that." He paused. "That's why I'd like to offer you a choice."
Maxwell leaned in and down so they were face to face, eye level. "Join me. This elixir will awaken new powers within you. And once I perfect it, that power will belong to everyone!" He lowered his voice. "But you and me first." He leaned back, standing up straight again. "You'll help me one way or another - either as an equal, or as a test subject."
Wilson strained against his bonds. "Never!" he shouted. jumping towards Maxwell in fury. He crashed straight into him, bringing them both to the floor. Without his hands, his open mouth was the only weapon Wilson had. He bit Maxwell's shoulder, and Maxwell grunted in pain. But Wilson never stood a chance. He was overwhelmed instantly by Maxwell's grip and the groups of guards surrounding the room.
Maxwell growled. "That's enough. Put him with the others. He'll get to see his pirateer friends, at least for the short time they have to live."
On each wall, tables held books and papers as well as vials of purple liquid. Maxwell stood at one of them, hands splayed on its surface, reading a text intently.
"Sir?" One of Wilson's captors spoke. "We caught a potential thief trying to sneak into the castle. Should we put him with the others?"
Maxwell turned. His figure was tall, lanky. His dark hair lay on his head like a rug. Wilson knew it was him, the same presence from his nightmares. He smiled, and Wilson shuddered in remembrance of the spooky chuckling and sinister laughter from his dreams. No, Wilson thought. Fight the fear. To survive, I must have a strong will. He resolved to keep a stone face as Maxwell strolled up to reach him.
"No, no. Keep him here for a while." That voice. That voice that had been torturing his nightmares for months somehow seemed even more evil in the flesh.
"You have... remarkable conviction. I'll give you that. It's not often we catch someone near our castle grounds, much less someone trying to sneak in. What is your purpose, I wonder." Wilson opened his mouth to reply, but Maxwell quickly put a finger to his lips. "Was it perhaps to get a sip of my famous elixir, guaranteed to awake powers you didn't even know you had?" As Maxwell said this, some of his henchmen glanced at him in lust, then at the colossal tank of purple. Maxwell chuckled. "You might have to wait, it's still in beta. And there's a long waitlist."
"Or... don't tell me... you have friends here? It wasn't that long ago we received a shipment of willing test subjects for the advancement of the research for said elixir. They were..." He turned to one of his guards. "From the sea, no? They had a ship... what did they call themselves? Pirateers?"
Wilsons breath caught in his throat, and he whispered with some effort, "Let me see them."
Maxwell's smile broadened. "A ha! Not so fast." He turned to Wilson once more. "As I was saying, you have remarkable conviction. You could have abandoned your people and gone on with your life, but no. You had the courage, and the gall, to follow them, all the way straight to me. And I admire that." He paused. "That's why I'd like to offer you a choice."
Maxwell leaned in and down so they were face to face, eye level. "Join me. This elixir will awaken new powers within you. And once I perfect it, that power will belong to everyone!" He lowered his voice. "But you and me first." He leaned back, standing up straight again. "You'll help me one way or another - either as an equal, or as a test subject."
Wilson strained against his bonds. "Never!" he shouted. jumping towards Maxwell in fury. He crashed straight into him, bringing them both to the floor. Without his hands, his open mouth was the only weapon Wilson had. He bit Maxwell's shoulder, and Maxwell grunted in pain. But Wilson never stood a chance. He was overwhelmed instantly by Maxwell's grip and the groups of guards surrounding the room.
Maxwell growled. "That's enough. Put him with the others. He'll get to see his pirateer friends, at least for the short time they have to live."
[apoiler]Wilson and Chester were led down countless flights of stairs, each level down growing darker and more musty than the last. Wilson had begun the journey struggling against his bonds, and Chester had supported his rebellion by barking muffedly through his muzzle, but had since quieted, resigned to their capture. Finally, they reached a level of the stairwell in which they stepped out of the stairwell and into a room with iron bars separating one half from the other. A group of prisoners sat dejectedly on the side away from the stairs, and Wilson and Chester were brought to the door and shoved in with them.
As the door began to close, however, one of the prisoners, who had apparently broken free of his bonds, shouted and ran straight for the open door, pointy metal spike in hand. Wilson gave a start and jumped quickly to the side just as the prisoner dove weapon-first at their captors. Wilson could spot a few others straining against their shackles who would do anything to help out their friend escape.
The prisoner managed to get the upper hand on the closest of the guards, stabbing his spike into her shoulder. She yelped in pain, falling to the floor, as three other guards surrounded the assailant. The man growled at them, realizing the odds were against him. It was a growl signifying "I'm not going down without a fight."
Wilson thought quickly. If this man gets free, he can free us all. But how could Wilson help him? His hands were, quite literally, tied.
It proved to be too late, anyway. The man's spike had lodged itself in his previous victim's shoulder, and without a weapon, the guards had subdued the man quicker than Wilson had been able to begin formulating a plan. They had him in ropes and up the stairs before any other prisoner could make a move. The injured guard had left as well, leaving two guards to lock up Wilson and Chester.
As he felt his shackles tighten, he looked around at his new acquaintances. He nodded and smiled halfheartedly as he recognized his roommate from Aelna's ship bunkers. It was a reunion, but not the same kind they'd hoped for.
As he glanced around the room, his eyes fell on a woman whose dirty red hair covered her face. She had been apparently oblivious to the attempted escape and fighting that had just occurred, according to the glassy look her barely visible eyes had. Her body was covered in scratches and her leg was set in a cast. Aelna. How she had survived the catastrophe, much less the trip here and the torturous nightmares, Wilson couldn't imagine.
He crawled over to her and tapped her shoulder. No response. "Aelna. It's me. Wilson." Her eyes glanced in his direction, then went back to looking forward. Wilson grabbed her shoulder and turned her face to look at his. "Aelna, can you hear me?" Her eyes slowly focused and she gasped. "Wilson..." she croaked. And then smiled, eyes gleaming. "What a reunion, huh." There was still a bit of her old self in that broken husk of a person.
They didn't have much time to share stories, however, because another group of soldiers barged into the room. They opened the cell gates and began unlocking everyone's shackles, replacing them with the rope bonds Wilson had just gotten out of.
As they dragged Aelna up on her feet, she cringed in pain. She was in no position to walk with her leg in a cast. Wilson stepped over next to her, saying "Lean on me." She did so, moaning in gratitude.
The guards led the group of prisoners up the stairs until they reached the top. Aelna and Wilson lagged behind due to her injury, but every time they stopped to catch their breath, guards poked them in the back with spears.
They eventually got to the top, where they were herded into the great carpeted hall, where Maxwell waited. The prisoner who had attempted to escape sat in the metal chair in front of the great tank of purple liquid, bound and gagged. His eyes wide in terror.
"I heard," Maxwell drawled. "That there was some commotion in the cells a few minutes ago." He paused, looking at each one of them individually. "Why would anyone want to assault any one of my helpful staff here who keep you so well nourished? And why would anyone want to escape my castle? Escape this great experiment you all have the honor of being a part of?"
He waved his hand as if batting off a fly. "But no matter. One of you did, despite my best intentions to keep you all here safe. Whatever his reasons, I care not. All I care about is empowering you all with my great serum, my great life's work to make powerful beings out of every one of you. That's why I'll be abstaining from any sort of punishment. Rather, I'll be giving this man the absolute honor of testing this miracle elixir. And you all..." he grinned. "Will see its power."
"Down to business. You all know the drill. This machine will activate your superhuman powers. As an... uncontrollable side effect," he smirked, "it will bind your mind to me. So..." he set his face in a serious fashion, "that you can work for me at a higher level as my most trusted second-in-command. However," he looked pityingly at the man in the chair, "if you do not have the gumption, the will, to accept this power, it may destroy your mind altogether."
The rest of the prisoners looked in fear at the machine. It was obvious they had seen its power before, and heard this speech. Wilson turned to Aelna, who had on an expression of pity. "Why is this... a bad thing? Won't he become more powerful?"
Aelna responded, "You ever consider why he doesn't just use it on himself?" and turned away.
"Let this be an example of how to serve me to your fullest." Maxwell pulled the lever sitting on the table next to him. The purple liquid in the giant tanke began bubbling. Pipes extruding from the tank began filling with purple while smoke puffed from various holes in the mechanism. The "test subject" began blubbering as two purple rays of light settled on his temples. The light grew brighter and brighter, shattering into multiple rays spread across his whole face. The man's body began seizing, and his arms and legs struggled vehemently against his bonds of iron. Then, suddenly, a huge BANG, a FLASH of light, a puff of smoke, and silence.
Maxwell coughed, waving the smoke away from his face. He strode up to the man in the chair, who lay still. After taking the subject's pulse, Maxwell turned solemnly to the crowd. "I'm sad to say he didn't make it." Then after a moment of silence, "There might still be a few kinks in the mechanism." His eyes glimmered. "Or perhaps he was simply not strong enough."
Wilson and his fellow inmates were woken by the CRASH of a metal door as a guard entered their prison.
"Wakey wakey, folks! The big M says he's fixed the kinks in the mechanism! You all know what that means! Next in line to be a test subject is..." He looked at a piece of paper in his hand then said, "Aelna?"
No one spoke. No one wanted any of them to be the next one to leave, so no one gave away Aelna's identity. "C'mon now, don't be shy. Speak up, Aelna. We don't got all day."
Aelna raised her head, then struggled to raise her body up to lean on the wall. "Well? I'm ready." Her tired straggly voice echoed dimly through the silence of all of the other inmates.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "Ready, are ye? That's the most enthusiasm I've seen in... well, forever." He shrugged, unlatching Aelna's shackles. "Anything for the greater good, am I right?"
Wilson jumped in front of them, chains rattling. "No. Take me instead. She's... not strong enough."
Aelna growled at him. "This is not your fight, Wilson."
Wilson stared her down. "To make it through this, you have to have a strong mind. Look at yourself. If this works... no one else will have to die." He hesitated, then whispered, "And besides... if we do happen to not make it, we can finally be free of terror... forever."
"Who says your mind is stronger than mine?" Aelna shouted. But the truth shone in both of their eyes. She looked disheveled. Her nightmares that had plagued her at sea had obviously gotten worse, and they both knew it.
The guard looked troubled. "Alright," he said at last. "I'll talk to Maxwell about it. But for now, you're both coming with me."
An hour later, Aelna and the rest of the prisoners stood in the great hall, looking up at Wilson, who was tied, gagged, and imprisoned in the sinister metal chair.
"As it turns out," Maxwell was saying, "This courageous and honorable young man's sacrifice could make life better for all of us. Our previous test subject," he gestured at Aelna, "is weak and utterly incapable of handling such power as is held in this miracle elixir. Which, by the way, I have perfected even more since yesterday. This strapping young lad could help us all to victory. Either by being strong enough to accept the power I give him, or by giving us a tremendous leap forward in our research as we examine how this treatment affects one with his experiences. Really a win-win, both ways."
Aelna knelt, clutching a blubbering Chester in her arms. Wilson averted his thoughts from them concentrating. Strong will. I cannot falter. I must keep a strong will, but furrowed his brow when he heard a worried cry from Aelna.
Maxwell glanced at her. "Out of mercy, I'll spare you all the lecture. You know what happens now." And pulled the lever.
FLASH A great purple light. CRACK! A great thunderous noise. A deep torturous burning in every facet of his body, pinpricks of white-hot pain. The sensation of heat and smoke. Nothing in view but darkness.
"Wakey wakey, folks! The big M says he's fixed the kinks in the mechanism! You all know what that means! Next in line to be a test subject is..." He looked at a piece of paper in his hand then said, "Aelna?"
No one spoke. No one wanted any of them to be the next one to leave, so no one gave away Aelna's identity. "C'mon now, don't be shy. Speak up, Aelna. We don't got all day."
Aelna raised her head, then struggled to raise her body up to lean on the wall. "Well? I'm ready." Her tired straggly voice echoed dimly through the silence of all of the other inmates.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "Ready, are ye? That's the most enthusiasm I've seen in... well, forever." He shrugged, unlatching Aelna's shackles. "Anything for the greater good, am I right?"
Wilson jumped in front of them, chains rattling. "No. Take me instead. She's... not strong enough."
Aelna growled at him. "This is not your fight, Wilson."
Wilson stared her down. "To make it through this, you have to have a strong mind. Look at yourself. If this works... no one else will have to die." He hesitated, then whispered, "And besides... if we do happen to not make it, we can finally be free of terror... forever."
"Who says your mind is stronger than mine?" Aelna shouted. But the truth shone in both of their eyes. She looked disheveled. Her nightmares that had plagued her at sea had obviously gotten worse, and they both knew it.
The guard looked troubled. "Alright," he said at last. "I'll talk to Maxwell about it. But for now, you're both coming with me."
An hour later, Aelna and the rest of the prisoners stood in the great hall, looking up at Wilson, who was tied, gagged, and imprisoned in the sinister metal chair.
"As it turns out," Maxwell was saying, "This courageous and honorable young man's sacrifice could make life better for all of us. Our previous test subject," he gestured at Aelna, "is weak and utterly incapable of handling such power as is held in this miracle elixir. Which, by the way, I have perfected even more since yesterday. This strapping young lad could help us all to victory. Either by being strong enough to accept the power I give him, or by giving us a tremendous leap forward in our research as we examine how this treatment affects one with his experiences. Really a win-win, both ways."
Aelna knelt, clutching a blubbering Chester in her arms. Wilson averted his thoughts from them concentrating. Strong will. I cannot falter. I must keep a strong will, but furrowed his brow when he heard a worried cry from Aelna.
Maxwell glanced at her. "Out of mercy, I'll spare you all the lecture. You know what happens now." And pulled the lever.
FLASH A great purple light. CRACK! A great thunderous noise. A deep torturous burning in every facet of his body, pinpricks of white-hot pain. The sensation of heat and smoke. Nothing in view but darkness.
When Wilson woke, he was facedown on the floor. His metal bonds had been broken and his gag had been ripped in half. Did I... did I do that? thought Wilson in wonder. He raised his head to the sound of a sinister chuckling.
"Looks like today's our lucky day. The day we are all SAVED!" Maxwell shouted in glee as he knelt next to the collapsed Wilson. "He survived. Not only survived, but is imbued with ULTIMATE POWER!" Maxwell's chuckle turned into a gasping guffaw.
Wilson pushed humself up to his hands and knees and looked up at the colossal tank of purple liquid. It had been three quarters full when the lever was pulled, and it now stood at the one quarter mark.
"Yes," Maxwell stood. "Yes, my child. Stand up. Stand as an equal with me." He held out an arm for Wilson. Wilson, trembling, took it. He stood, then stumbled. "Easy there," whispered Maxwell, taking his hand for steadiness. "Ultimate power doesn't come that easily. Take your time."
Wilson finally stood tall, dizziness leaving his mind. He raised his head to find huge explosion marks streaking out from the metal chair he had been tied in, which had been cut in two. His jaw dropped at the idea of the sheer power he must have stored in his body as he looked around the room at the group of awestruck, yet hopeful, prisoners.
"Yes," whispered Maxwell. "We are all saved on this blessed day." And then his smile dissapeared. "Too bad there's not enough serum for everyone."
Wilson looked at him. No,, he thought. "That wasn't the plan." he said through gritted teeth.
Maxwell feigned surprise. "Oh? I wasn't aware you were in the position to bargain." He brought his eyes to Wilson's eye level. "I control you now, buddy." He grinned once more. "And my first order is to execute all of the prisoners."
The expressions of the prisoners turned instantly from awe to fear. The stronger of the bunch struggled against their ropes, while the weak knelt in surrender. Wilson turned to face them, eyes wide in apprehension. Purple fog surrounded his vision, covering everything but the ragged group of people in front of him.
As he took a step forward, however, he heard a voice. Fight the urge. Where had it come from? He glanced from side to side, noticing a visible change in the opacity of the purple fog at the edges of his vision. No one in the room had spoken. He took another step forward, raising his fists in a destructive manner toward the prisoners. He doesn't own you. There it was again. The voice was coming... from within his own mind. And... it was right. He didn't feel... oppressed. He felt... free. The purple fog dissapated, leaving Wilson standing motionless in front of a group of frightened, innocent, people.
"Well?" Maxwell sneered. "What's taking so long?"
Wilson lowered his arms, then turned around. "You... Don't.... Own.... Me..." He whispered slowly but clearly. Wilson's grin dropped and he instantly gestured to his bodyguards. "Take him down!" He shouted. But it was already too late. Wilson ran toward him with a newfound speed in his step, jumping in a tackle to take him down. Maxwell never stood a chance against Wilson's newfound, metal-ripping strength. The light left his eyes in an instant as Wilson thrust his body against the cold stone floor.
"Looks like today's our lucky day. The day we are all SAVED!" Maxwell shouted in glee as he knelt next to the collapsed Wilson. "He survived. Not only survived, but is imbued with ULTIMATE POWER!" Maxwell's chuckle turned into a gasping guffaw.
Wilson pushed humself up to his hands and knees and looked up at the colossal tank of purple liquid. It had been three quarters full when the lever was pulled, and it now stood at the one quarter mark.
"Yes," Maxwell stood. "Yes, my child. Stand up. Stand as an equal with me." He held out an arm for Wilson. Wilson, trembling, took it. He stood, then stumbled. "Easy there," whispered Maxwell, taking his hand for steadiness. "Ultimate power doesn't come that easily. Take your time."
Wilson finally stood tall, dizziness leaving his mind. He raised his head to find huge explosion marks streaking out from the metal chair he had been tied in, which had been cut in two. His jaw dropped at the idea of the sheer power he must have stored in his body as he looked around the room at the group of awestruck, yet hopeful, prisoners.
"Yes," whispered Maxwell. "We are all saved on this blessed day." And then his smile dissapeared. "Too bad there's not enough serum for everyone."
Wilson looked at him. No,, he thought. "That wasn't the plan." he said through gritted teeth.
Maxwell feigned surprise. "Oh? I wasn't aware you were in the position to bargain." He brought his eyes to Wilson's eye level. "I control you now, buddy." He grinned once more. "And my first order is to execute all of the prisoners."
The expressions of the prisoners turned instantly from awe to fear. The stronger of the bunch struggled against their ropes, while the weak knelt in surrender. Wilson turned to face them, eyes wide in apprehension. Purple fog surrounded his vision, covering everything but the ragged group of people in front of him.
As he took a step forward, however, he heard a voice. Fight the urge. Where had it come from? He glanced from side to side, noticing a visible change in the opacity of the purple fog at the edges of his vision. No one in the room had spoken. He took another step forward, raising his fists in a destructive manner toward the prisoners. He doesn't own you. There it was again. The voice was coming... from within his own mind. And... it was right. He didn't feel... oppressed. He felt... free. The purple fog dissapated, leaving Wilson standing motionless in front of a group of frightened, innocent, people.
"Well?" Maxwell sneered. "What's taking so long?"
Wilson lowered his arms, then turned around. "You... Don't.... Own.... Me..." He whispered slowly but clearly. Wilson's grin dropped and he instantly gestured to his bodyguards. "Take him down!" He shouted. But it was already too late. Wilson ran toward him with a newfound speed in his step, jumping in a tackle to take him down. Maxwell never stood a chance against Wilson's newfound, metal-ripping strength. The light left his eyes in an instant as Wilson thrust his body against the cold stone floor.
WOOF, WOOF! Chester's exultant bark rang out as the imprisoned pirateer crew cheered, rushing over to Wilson and struggling to catch him as he stumbled. Even though his body was more powerful than it had ever been, Wilson felt dizzy and weak after all of the events he had just experienced.
Sunlight streamed in through the high-set windows, clearing the air of the purple smoke. It seemed Maxwell and his machine were the source of the circling clouds, so with his machine defunct, the sun could shine again. The windows even looked clear again, free of their purple tint they had had.
CAW! CAW! The whispering sound of wings fluttered by. A flock of birds winged by the window, finally untethered from the shadow realm Maxwell's machine had bound them to.
Since their minds had been bound to Maxwell's, his guards instantaneously were freed of their imprisonment. Each had a different reaction when the purple light left their eyes. Some threw down their weapons in disgust, other fell to their knees blubbering about all of the evil deeds they had commited under Maxwell's reign, while others couldn't help from laughing in relief.
Wilson relaxed in the arms of his former crewmates as they praised and thanked him. He heard Aelna's voice saying "I never let my faith in you run out, kiddo..." before it was lost in a fit of coughing. Wilson sat up quickly. "Aelna. What's wrong?" Aelna gave him a weak smile. "You already know what's wrong, kiddo. This place..." Cough, Cough "We've been here too long. His... influence... has been ingrained in us, some more than others... But I'm afraid my weakened body has been pushed to its limit." She sighed, and smiled. "But I sure am glad to have seen you one more time before my passing." She closed her eyes.
Wilson shook her eyes back open. "No... you shouldn't. You can't."
Aelna managed one last weak smile. "I already have, kiddo." And her light left her eyes.
After the threat of Maxwell's great plan had been eliminated, most of the pirateers decided to go back to doing what they loved: sailing. They gave Wilson the option to come back with them. He would have been welcomed with open arms. He chose to stay above and do what he did best; cultivate the earth with crops. He even convinced some of the pirateer group to stay with him and begin their own settlement with many of Maxwell's old troops in and around the old castle.
Wilson never really did get the real hang of planeswalking. Since his powers were bestowed upon him by force and not by choice, they never sat well with him and he would always get sick to the stomach when attempting to cross the blind eternities. That isn't to say it wasn't possible for him, though. He got to see his fair share of other planes in the multiverse. But he always preferred Anorost, where his stomach pain was greatly reduced, his crops grew plentifully, and friends and family surrounded him.
Sunlight streamed in through the high-set windows, clearing the air of the purple smoke. It seemed Maxwell and his machine were the source of the circling clouds, so with his machine defunct, the sun could shine again. The windows even looked clear again, free of their purple tint they had had.
CAW! CAW! The whispering sound of wings fluttered by. A flock of birds winged by the window, finally untethered from the shadow realm Maxwell's machine had bound them to.
Since their minds had been bound to Maxwell's, his guards instantaneously were freed of their imprisonment. Each had a different reaction when the purple light left their eyes. Some threw down their weapons in disgust, other fell to their knees blubbering about all of the evil deeds they had commited under Maxwell's reign, while others couldn't help from laughing in relief.
Wilson relaxed in the arms of his former crewmates as they praised and thanked him. He heard Aelna's voice saying "I never let my faith in you run out, kiddo..." before it was lost in a fit of coughing. Wilson sat up quickly. "Aelna. What's wrong?" Aelna gave him a weak smile. "You already know what's wrong, kiddo. This place..." Cough, Cough "We've been here too long. His... influence... has been ingrained in us, some more than others... But I'm afraid my weakened body has been pushed to its limit." She sighed, and smiled. "But I sure am glad to have seen you one more time before my passing." She closed her eyes.
Wilson shook her eyes back open. "No... you shouldn't. You can't."
Aelna managed one last weak smile. "I already have, kiddo." And her light left her eyes.
After the threat of Maxwell's great plan had been eliminated, most of the pirateers decided to go back to doing what they loved: sailing. They gave Wilson the option to come back with them. He would have been welcomed with open arms. He chose to stay above and do what he did best; cultivate the earth with crops. He even convinced some of the pirateer group to stay with him and begin their own settlement with many of Maxwell's old troops in and around the old castle.
Wilson never really did get the real hang of planeswalking. Since his powers were bestowed upon him by force and not by choice, they never sat well with him and he would always get sick to the stomach when attempting to cross the blind eternities. That isn't to say it wasn't possible for him, though. He got to see his fair share of other planes in the multiverse. But he always preferred Anorost, where his stomach pain was greatly reduced, his crops grew plentifully, and friends and family surrounded him.
Districts of Kestner
My main inspiration were the video games Dishonored, Darkest Dungeon, and Thief. From these came central themes of lightness and darkness, trickery, and treasure. I also worked to emphasize various characters, events, and systems that cropped up in those games as flavorful cards.
Experience Counters
Experience is a recurring theme in video games. Characters earn experience through practicing skills, which they can use to level up and upgrade their skills accordingly. Experience Counters appear in
.
Level Up
Speaking of leveling up, Magic already has the perfect mechanic to illustrate this trope. I think it speaks for itself... Level Up appears in
as well as on Artifacts and Equipment.
Spare
A major theme I strove to emphasize was that of player choice. In Dishonored, choice is especially important because the player can choose who they want to kill and who they want to neutralize peacefully. Spare appears in
.
Ulterior Motive
However, spare your enemies carefully! Some may not forgive you for their shame. Ulterior Motive came about as a mechanic since trickery plays a central role in the narratives of Thief and Dishonored. Ulterior Motive is the mechanic of the set.
Under Cover
Light and darkness are pivotal in the gameplay of Darkest Dungeon as well as Thief. The light level dictates how powerful monsters are and how easily one can see a hidden character. Under Cover appears on cards.
Experience is a recurring theme in video games. Characters earn experience through practicing skills, which they can use to level up and upgrade their skills accordingly. Experience Counters appear in
. Level Up
Speaking of leveling up, Magic already has the perfect mechanic to illustrate this trope. I think it speaks for itself... Level Up appears in
as well as on Artifacts and Equipment. Spare
A major theme I strove to emphasize was that of player choice. In Dishonored, choice is especially important because the player can choose who they want to kill and who they want to neutralize peacefully. Spare appears in
. Ulterior Motive
However, spare your enemies carefully! Some may not forgive you for their shame. Ulterior Motive came about as a mechanic since trickery plays a central role in the narratives of Thief and Dishonored. Ulterior Motive is the
mechanic of the set. Under Cover
Light and darkness are pivotal in the gameplay of Darkest Dungeon as well as Thief. The light level dictates how powerful monsters are and how easily one can see a hidden character. Under Cover appears on
cards. IN DEVELOPMENT SETS
Set 2 of 2 in the District of Kestner (as of yet unnamed)
The second set in a wedge-colored block based on the mechanics and themes of Dishonored, Darkest Dungeon, and Thief.
UnConspiracy
A draft-central multiplayer battle royale silver bordered set.[/spoiler]