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>>651566
You spin around, looking at the few windows still dimly lit by candlelight or meager power bought at great cost. Here a shop looted and wrecked, empty and silent as the grave from which the dead may yet rise. There a barricaded and defended storefront, the peacekeepers alert and prepared to defend it viciously. There a place of ease, song and laughter and spirits imbibed and lifted alike. No peacekeeper there, but several men, tough and fearsome.

“Carmilla!” The voice that comes from your mouth is high, worry for your sister steeping her name in fear. “Please, oh please do not hide from me any longer!” The peacekeepers eye you warily, and the tough at the bar watch you with eyes dull and uninterested; you are not disturbing the place they guard, so you are of no interest to them. But there are those in the wide ally next to the bar near the side entrance, cherry glow from burning tobacco illuminating their faces in ghastly red. Five of them, men and women, friends perhaps, and your voice has caught their attention as well.

[] Seek aid from the Peacekeepers.
[] Seek aid from the Tavern.
[] Seek aid from the Revelers.
[] Go on your Way.

>>651576
[] Seek aid from the Tavern.
Maaaaybe the Tavern. But honestly, the Revelers are probably worse than the Peacekeepers.

>>651576
>[] Seek aid from the Tavern.

>>651576
>[] Seek aid from the Tavern.
The tavern is probably our best bet for now unless we go alone.

>>651576
>[x] Seek aid from the Tavern.
Safest bet I suppose. Not sure what the rules are this time around, but adding that we
>think back to when we last saw her.

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>>651576
>[X] Seek aid from the Tavern.
almost missed this.

>>651615
Now that's some nice horns!

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[X] Seek aid from the Tavern.
[+] Think back to when last you saw Carmilla.

You hesitate, trying to remember where last you saw her? The ball? The masquerade? You grip the mask in your hands to your chest, looking down at the darkness of the shadowy road before you. You were sleeping, were you not? Abed, in a warm, half-lit place, sun streaming through breaks in the coverings of the windows, dust in the air making it shimmer. Her hand brushing your dark curls from your face, her own hair long and straight and puled away from her pale face. She said something....

“Do you have coin?” The brusque man before you looks down, studying your figure, your state of dress. “You don't peddle flesh here. You fuck, it's for free or take it elsewhere.” You flush at his uncouth manner. His eyes linger on your bared legs. Clean leg, shaven bare only just recently (when?).

You feel almost ashamed at his forthright study of you, though you are nearly modestly dressed, your thighs and calves bare. A thick jacket, a man's jacket (which man? what man?) hangs from your shoulders, the buttons shining. Reaching into the pocket of your shorts, you pull out a handful of silvery coins. “I have coin good sir; copper and chrome, from before....before....” The coins sparkle in your hand and you stare at them. Did your sister give you these?

Yes.

blood and blood and blood, white bone, black flesh, cold and hot and wet screaming screaming screaming

Yes.

The man takes one, and looks at it critically. Then he looks down at you, keeping the one coin for himself. “Fine. But cause trouble, start a fight, and I will throw you in the street, coin or no.”

“Thank you good sir....” He companions shift uncomfortably. He simply looks at you. “If you should see my sister, tell her I seek her – her hair is colored as mine, but long, straight, and heavy. Her dress is torn, and her eyes are a softer blue than mine.” He shifts uncomfortably, his expression strange.

“Fine, fine.” He steps aside and you slip inside.

The tavern is not large, but it I well lit and there are many people inside. Couches, chairs, haphazardly arranged, tables and chairs set here and there. A fireplace has been lit and the warmth of the place steals the breath from you. Was it so cold outside? Men and women mingle, dressed in various ways. Suspicious eyes, curious eyes, hard eyes, lustful eyes, all upon you. A stranger in their midst, and their voices die to near silence, whispers taking the place of raucousness. Th side door is ajar, the people outside still there. There is smoke withing as well, acrid and not all from the fireplace.

[] Ask the Lone Man on the couch for aid.
[] Ask the Keeper of the Tavern for aid.
[] Ask the Keeper of the Tavern for a draught.
[] Ask the Small Group near the fire.
[] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.
[] Study more there must be more to this place.

>>651627
[] Ask the Keeper of the Tavern for a draught.
[] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.

>>651627
>[] Ask the Keeper of the Tavern for a draught.
>[] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.

>>651627
>[] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.
>[] Study more there must be more to this place.

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>>651627
>[X] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.

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[X] Ask the Keeper of the Tavern for a draught.
[X] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.

You make your way to the long table that is covered by a cloth. The sent of the smoke covers much of the stench of humanity and the poisons it enjoys. Still, there is the sour sent of too much time without bathing, the thick scent of yeast, the ammonia of old piss. The floor is early clean though and the cups are of plastic and from package. The keeper of this place is an older man, gone bald and to a strange spareness of limb and largeness of belly.

You offend him, by drawing breath, by being unblemished, by being without weapon and yet unscarred to his eyes. You duck your head and look at the coins in your fisted hand. One. Two. Three. Three coins laid on the simple cloth of the bar-table. He slowly takes all three, watching your face as he does so. Only then does he turn from you to open a tap in a large plastic barrel, and pour off a large plastic cup of the golden brew within. It smells of yeast and bitters.

The talk around you slowly grows in volume, and you put the coins back in your pocket. He set the cup in front of you and then move away, his sneer of disgust shaming hateful, unkind. You heart flutters and you take the large cup in one hand....it is too large, too much. You place the pallid mask upon the table, and take the cup in both hands, lift it carefully to your lips to drink of the yeast and bitters, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body.

The tavern keeper moves towards you, his ire raised, and his eyes flashing in disgust and anger. You look up at him, your eyes upon his, and he stops, shuddering, his eyes unable to meet yours. Ashamed, you look down and sip the heavy beer, the warmth of it spreading through you. It is a good feeling. He turns away from you and leans things behind the bar-table, ignoring you.

>>651627
>[] Ask the Woman with Red Hair by the bar.
>[] Study more there must be more to this place.
Holy fuck I caught an XS quest at its beginning. And Jesus Christ Ryukusa. And what are the European spirits like the Sidhe, Ra's and Jotnar doing? Just watching the undead and part-time-furries wreck shop?

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>>651657
Turning, you look at the tall red headed woman. Her hair is done in thick braids in places and free and long in others, thick and rich as crimson velvet; she has a widows peak, though she is young. Her eyes are grey and filled with fury so hot and bright you cannot look into them. So you you look down at her heavy coat and thick trousers. Boots. Boots.

thump thump thump thump tutumbletumtumptumplebump huuuuussshhhhh like rainfall

“You know you paid him four times what that is worth, don't you?” You look up into thse grey eyes of diamond hard hate and anger, but her voice is soft and gentle and heavy, like a black velvet. She seems soft and rough at the same time,her pale face drawn, lean.

“I did not know.” Foolish. Foolish of you. You look at her worn boots Travel dust, none of the road's blackness.

“Not from round here. Your accent is strange.” She sips her own beer. “You were calling out for someone though.”

“Carmilla! My sister!” You step loser and she smiles, her pale lips soft and chapped. “Her eyes are a softer blue than mine, and her hair is long and dark. She is taller, not as tall as you....she is gentle and of nervous disposition, I am worried for her!” The woman with the red hair looks at you oddly, as though uncertain. “I know she yet lives, that she is nearby. But I do not know where....”

The voices nearest you have ceased, and the red haired woman takes you gently by the arm and guides you to a corner of the room. “You're sure?” She looks into your eyes, studies your face. The look upon hers is strange and sad and gentle, but the hate and anger never leaves her hard grey eyes.

[] Are you sure? You once were.
[] You are sure of it! You would know if she were....were....
[] Why does she look at you so? What does she see that you cannot?
[] Pull away gently. You are not a common girl to be mauled by anyone, even a savior.

>>651659
This isn't Ryukusa. This is a Ryukusa sidequest about someone else after Ryukusa starts the apocalypse.
>>651660
[] Why does she look at you so? What does she see that you cannot?
[] Are you sure? You once were.

>>651660
>[] You are sure of it! You would know if she were....were....
>[] Why does she look at you so? What does she see that you cannot?

>>651660
>[] You are sure of it! You would know if she were....were....
>[] Why does she look at you so? What does she see that you cannot?

>>651662
>r Ryukusa starts the apocalypse.
Yeah I know. I was saying Jesus Christ Ryukusa, because it seems like she pretty much was the catalyst for all the things

>>651665
Eh, it was all going to happen, Japan just probably got a better deal out of it. Got the early-bird, so to speak.

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[X] You are sure of it! You would know if she were....were....
[X] Why does she look at you so? What does she see that you cannot?

You feel your stomach twisting in upon itself, as if you had eaten unripe fruit or too much confection. You look into the yellow liquid in your cup, your hands trembling ever so slightly. “How can I not be sure? She is my sister, my very own sister.” You look up at the woman and she recoils. “I would know if she were dead, I could not possibly be ignorant of her life! She must be nearby,must be within reach....” The woman takes a step back, her eyes wide and her face even more bloodless. “Why do you look at me so? Why do you draw away?”

Others have taken note, your voice starting to carry.

“Is it so strange to have an enduring love for one's kin now? How could you cast away the familial bonds so readily! Is flesh such a commodity that it would be odd for one to seek one's sister if she were....were....” Your stomach roils and you drop the beer, pressing your hands against your belly. The liquid spreads from the cup, surrounding your feet, making it appear that you have lost your self control. Have you? Did you lose something, some kind of control?

No!

“Tell me where she is! Have you hidden her? Has she been sold?” You take a step towards the woman, and the man on the ouch rises, drawing a weapon a pistol, and lifting it towards you. Your hand clenches at the edge of the pallid mask. The woman turns, stumbles against a table. Others are standing, some grasping at laps, others scrambling away from your rising ire. “WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN? WHERE IS SHE!?” The man raises the trembling pistol, and the toughs from outside barrel into the room, only to recoil in horror and disgust. “WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!?”

[] Don the pallid mask an hide your face from them.
[] Flee, flee for your life.
[] Call upon The Wind and guard yourself, you must learn what they know!
[] They are fools and idiots. They know nothing. Go on your Way.
[] Show them the picture of your sister, and beg for their help.

>>651679
[] Show them the picture of your sister, and beg for their help.
[] Call upon The Wind and guard yourself, you must learn what they know!
........Is MC a vampire?

>>651679
>[] They are fools and idiots. They know nothing. Go on your Way.

>>651679
Alright, I'm finally awake!
>[x] Call upon The Wind and guard yourself, you must learn what they know!

>>651679
>[] Don the pallid mask an hide your face from them.
>[] They are fools and idiots. They know nothing. Go on your Way.

Poor XS has to deal with us tying everything too, huh. Maybe some more RQ anons will wake up soon.

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[X] Call upon The Wind and guard yourself, you must learn what they know!

You make the Sign of the Open Doors and flick your hand in the direction of the man with the gun. The weapon is flung from his hand and he is thrown to the couch, bouncing ff of it and then awkwardly onto the floor. The Sign of the Drawn Nets and the red-headed woman is yanked from her feet and thrown at yours, staring up at you in shock. Yells and screams erupt through the room as you make the Sign of the Windswept Hills and the room is filled with torrential winds, save where you stand.

“Tell me what you know!” You have to shout to be heard above the wind storm, and she yells back at you.

“Your eyes!”

Staring at her in confusion you mouth the words back at her.

The winds intensify, flinging beer, people, furnishings, and lamps about. The fire, of course is unharmed – that of the Air cannot harm that of the Flame.

“....YOUR EYES....ARE GREEN....”

The shouted word shakes you, your hand atremble, and the winds start to die down as you lose the Sign.

She looks up at you, expression terrified, her eyes filled with nothing more than that terror. “Your eyes are green,” she repeats, rolling over and getting to her hands and knees before you.

“....green....?” You lower your hand and the winds die completely. The woman kneels before you, looking up in terror at you. “My eyes....” Your sister's eyes, soft blue, looking at you horror in them as she tells you the truth, His truth, the worst truth. The pale hand along your hand, the matching dresses you wore, cornflower blue and sunflower yellow, matching her eyes and your....hair....

You draw your hand through your hair, and hear the people picking themselves up, hear the murmured words.

witch
sorceress
murderer
monster

The woman leans down and kisses the instep of your boot. You recoil, then leap over an overturned coffee table, push through scattered chairs. She kneels, watching you in wonder, and you snatch the mask from the still standing bar-table....only to see the doorway blocked by tumbled bodies rising up against you.

They are ignorant. They don't truly know anything. The truth is your sister is out there, in danger, needs your help. You have to find her!

[] Window, window, out the window....
[] Side door is there!
[] Up, up the stairs....up higher!
[] Go deeper, the back, somewhere another exit.

>>651717
>[] Window, window, out the window....

>>651717
>[] Window, window, out the window....

>>651717
>[x] Up, up the stairs....up higher!
Surely a good choice!

>>651717
>[] Up, up the stairs....up higher!

>>651717
>[] Window, window, out the window....

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[X] Window, window, out the window....

You make the Sign of The Perfect Storm, and you flick your hand at the window. The gust of hurricane-force winds blows the glass, the framing of it, and the curtains into the street. Bouncing in place from foot to foot, you look at the woman still dumbfounded, and the others, who are scrambling to try and catch you. You leap, jumping over the short sill and out into the shattered glass and splintered wood. You feel a sharp pain in your leg, something stabbed you, grabbed you....you run, pelting towards the black road, the fiery lines that trace it's path, the glowing words that adorn it.

Ignoring the words, for to STOP is to be caught, to be captured and tormented, and tortured, perhaps put to death, perhaps sacrificed to appease their shallow, ephemeral gods, you run.

The peacekeepers watch, and the people in the alley step out into the orange were-light from the pillars that frame the street. The others are pointing, shouting. You do not need to hear what they say to know what they say. Their words cause the peacekeeper to move, to rustle. Squalling, squealing noises, and words whispered from deep, dark corners of nothingness and nowhere. One of them lifts his gun as you slip into an alleyway, and into the comforting darkness.

Shouts, more shouts, terrible noises from many terrible things coming for you. The alley way leads to another dark river, the pale stone walkways edging it. You leap onto a blazing white pathway leading between the two walkways, the abyssal darkness at either side yawning, the lines of fire striking out across the strange chasm. You leap onto the other walkway, and glance around. You hear them, following, coming, shouting.

A whisper from above, a sweet voice calling to you from below, and empty roads to either side.

[] Follow the Whisper.
[] Find the Voice.
[] Go Left, where lights are on and there are shadows of men and women not out for your blood.
[] Go Right, where the shadows rise tall and the were-lights have shattered and faded into mere whisps.

>>651755
>[] Find the Voice.
Sweet is it? Sounds interesting.

>>651755
>[] Follow the Whisper.

>>651755
>[] Find the Voice.

>>651755
>[x] Go Left, where lights are on and there are shadows of men and women not out for your blood.
I'm not sure our protagonist can hide in the crowd since she seems a mite unhinged, but...

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You dart to the left, starting towards the lively street, well lit, occupied by reasonable person who most likely mean you no harm. The first of your pursuers breaks out of the darkness of the alley, striding impossibly cross the yawning abyss of darkness between the building they come from and those you sought shelter near. You move in that direction, but you go down taking the steps two, three at a time, your injured leg complaining each time you land upon the foot at its terminus.

There is light – such light! – down there, the greenish phosphorescence of cave-light, but a hundred, a thousand times more potent. It reflects from white stone and pale ceramic tile, your footsteps echoing thunderously. They stop at the top of the steps, complaining, discussing, arguing. Their voices meld into a dissonance of nonsensical argument, then the sharp sounds of boots upon the steps.

One set.

Two sets.

No more than that.

You race for the bank of stalls that permit entrance to elsewhere, or egress from here; a lone man, dressed in aged blue clothing and holding a cane sits at one end and holds up a cup towards you. Running hard, you thrust your hand into your pocket and hurl a handful of chrome and copper coins at him. He recoils, shouting at you, cowering away from you. You leap over turnstiles unconcerned for the niceties, as two men round the corner. One goes to one knee and raises his hands, a revolver cradled within them. The other runs wide, staying out of his way.

[] Call upon the Winds to Protect you.
[] Call the Earth to Defend you.
[] The Voice is near, find it, she will protect you.
[] Scream for your sister - you must be close, she MUST be nearby!
[] Curse them, Curse them for Cowards and Fools!

We pause for three hours and fifteen minutes while I end my work day and begin my evening rituals of medication, food, and meditations.

Voting will remain open, and we continue at 9:30 am PST. Thank you for playing and reading.

The oracle will answer the first three questions posed. But not those posed about the continuity of the Pallid Mask.

>>651790
>[] Curse them, Curse them for Cowards and Fools!

>>651790
>[] Scream for your sister - you must be close, she MUST be nearby!
>[] Curse them, Curse them for Cowards and Fools!
>[] The Voice is near, find it, she will protect you.

>>651793
What powers do we have?

>>651790
>[x] Call the Earth to Defend you.
>[x] Scream for your sister - you must be close, she MUST be nearby!

>>651793
Have you been questing at work, then? Naughty naughty! Or perhaps not, I can't keep up with your schedule.

>>651790
>[X] Call the earth to Defend you

Are write ins allowed?

>>651816
I believe XS always allows write-ins. You're bold to try one though, while this so far seems like one of the most straight-forward protagonists XS has written given how single-minded she is, it's still too early for me to feel confident I can write in something in-character.

>>651807
You can call upon That of Air, and That of Earth, do you your bidding as much as it will. And by 'That' I mean the essential elementals that inhabit the earth and the air, between the stitching of this world and another. You must have at least one hand free. You can also make Three Signs of Power - Voorish, Hastur, or Elder, to enhance your Callings. Doing so is costly in a way that cannot be explained.

You can slip between This Place And That Place, a form of flight or teleportation, but there are always....changes to each place you move to, and move from. It is safe, but not entirely reliable in where you land.

You can Conjure From Corpse Or Cairn, summoning semblances of life or place, half real illusory things that will fight and die for you, or shelter and protect you. This takes time, and deep blood - a shallow cut and few drops is not enough.

You may Cast A Shadow, divest yourself f a Self that is solid, real, and will die in your place. Such Selves are maifestations of selves created in antiquity and Elsewhere and Elsewhen. You can only do so a very limited number of times.

>>651790
>[] Call upon the Winds to Protect you.
>[] The Voice is near, find it, she will protect you.

>>651814
I work graves in California. The shift, not the location.

>>651816
Always and they are given priority.

And since those were simple ones, I'll take two others.

>>651830
>The shift, not the location.
Anons would easily believe both.

>>651830
So the option for cursing would not actually curse them, or do we have such a power as well?

>>651839
Depends on if anything is listening or not.

>>651830
Well, I don't know any good questions since like in most your quests I have no idea about the lore or setting or whatever anyway. So all I can think of is meta questions like whether X or Y would work which seems like cheating instead.

I guess I can ask how old we are! Then again I'm not sure Cassilda even knows...

>>651842
Cassilda is nubile, and therefore of marriageable age. She is youthful but remembers more than she should at her tender years. She is not greatly tall, and may be a touch fond of the pastries and the candies.

>>651841
Interesting
Aren't they always listening?

>>651848
Cassilda thinks not.
The question was what powers Casilda has, not what powers those she can call upon has. Her original description does include the words "Beloved of The King In Yellow."

>>651847
>may be a touch fond of the pastries and the candies.
Oh yes, now I can properly identify with our protagonist properly.

>>651850
Heh, well i'll just not ask what those things can do then and leave it as a surprise.

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And I am away.

>>651850
How sneaky. I suppose it'll be important to keep this in mind for several reasons. Won't want to accidentally call on help for example, nor forget we can do so.

>>651854
>double properly
My, maybe I shouldn't write while watching other things.

>>651860
Later XS

I'm not sure how I feel about all this being the consequence of Ryukusa doing what she was ordained to. Seems like a rough deal. Maybe positive things will start working their way out?

And it brings up many questions. Christianity should still be important, but who's to say if it birthed it's own monsters. What of western dragons? Forgotten religions might stay forgotten, but maybe some memory could echo. Lots of possibilities in religion, myth and legend, lots of unknowns. Also I wonder how south america is doing at this point.

Man this is a snarl of sorts. But that's armageddon for you.

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Back, writing, stuff. Things.

>>652104
Good to hear!

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[X] Call the Earth to Defend you.
[X] The Voice is near, find it, she will protect you.
[X] Scream for your sister -you must be close she MUST be nearby!
[X] Curse them, Curse them for Cowards and Fools!

You lift your hand and curl your ring finger and your pointer finger into your palm, crossing your thumb against both to hold them in place and maintaining the straightness of the other two. It hurt, of course it hurts, the position is unnatural and I meant for fingers on a hand other than your delicate girlish hand, fingers other than your slender, three jointed fingers.

But the Sign of the Hastur calls attention upon those whom hunt you and to the Sign of the Sundered Spear which you make after. “Thrice be damned, you who would thwart my search for dear Carmilla! Once upon Earth, Once within the Heavens, and Once under the Stars, where Aldebaran and the Hyades shine upon the world!” You draw breath to scream for your sister, but the shriek of the man who was aiming his gun at you is far louder.

He has dropped his weapon, and covers his face. Blood pours fro behind his hands, where his eyes should be, and more and more. Far more than a man should carry within his body. He shrieks and shrieks, unable to do more than bleed and scream.

The man who runs at you stumbles, and then halts, his eyes wide and now terrified. The rude man, the man at the doorway of the tavern who took payment from you and now seeks to harm you. The tiles at his feet ripple, likes scales upon the back of a great lizard or serpent, and he takes another step back. The ground before him swells, and then opens, a cavernous maw that glows with the radiance of Cherenkov, the Unclean Source under the caverns of N'Kai, the beauty of Abhoth. And she takes the offering, swallowing down the man who shrieks even more than the other, for he will never die in her embrace.

The other man, the one who demanded his toll and sat idly by also has pistol. He shoots at you, shouting a prayer of a heathen god, a shepherd god of the weak and the poor, the frail and the lost. You scram your sister's name as the bullet passes through your left eye, the soft, heavy lead shattering as it impacts against your orbital socket and scattering from there across your brains.

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>>652267
Falling to your knees, you see a glimpse of silk and satin, crinoline and lace, cornflower blue amidst the grey and green of the eerily lit underground station. A lovely wet sound, rain across the cobbled stones of the city, as you catch a glimpse of your sister, and how she takes him from the world. You cry out for her, but she is gone already. You fall, as you must, consciousness fleeing from the wound you have suffered.

You rise, your hand covering your injured eye. The lights flicker, dim, grow bright, coating the walls with intermittent shadow. You rise to your feet, whispering the song of Hali, whispering the stanzas of Carcosa. The soft and sweet voice which drew you here sings back, lilting and sibilant, recalling warmth and beauty in Saturnalia, gifts and mercies during Kronia. The dance of strange cats of light and gems. Staggering and singing, you follow the voice, seek the source. It is within the open doors of coach, the stilled train within this very station that you find her. She smiles upon you, and walks to greet you, moving with the sinuous grace of the dancer or the deadly.

[] Take the offered hands.
[] Recoil; such human mien fools you not!
[] Allow yourself to become unconscious once more.
[] Show her the pallid mask, beg for succor.

>>651875
Eh, if it wasn't Ryukusa it would have been Susano'o.
It's possible that The Stars Were Right, and the gods are actually tempering humanity to become strong and strange enough to survive the Great Old Ones, but it feels more likely that the other gods just followed Amaterasu's example without possessing her compassion, and in their blind desire for vengeance, accidentally let loose beings who, at least hype-wise, seem to be as above them as gods are above mortals.

Regardless, any surviving members of Ryukusa's family will have to work hard to protect her from succumbing to despair.

This is no world to raise children in.

>>652275
>Shoe her the pallid mask, beg for succor

>>652275
>[] Show her the pallid mask, beg for succor.
Well...that could have gone a little better.

>>652275
>[x] Take the offered hands.
I dunno what she is but...her voice is what we were following and we're not in a great state right now. Why not risk it.

>>652275
>[] Take the offered hands.
>[] Show her the pallid mask, beg for succor.
Guess we can do both then?

>>652313
I'd hope so!
Really, unless she's some kind of Siren or the like we're probably good here. She hardly seems like she'll be shocked or scared by some mild supernatural-ness at least.

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[X] Show her the pallid mask, beg for succor.
[x] Take the offered hands.

You stumble forward and collapse you your knees your hand gripping the pallid mask tightly. You lift it up for her to see, and she smiles and catches your empty hand as you reach for her, mouthing what you hope are please for mercy succor. The strange woman-child in black velvet and sleek leather crouches to catch you as the world goes more black, for it is half that way already.

You wake in a well lit room of tile and luminous green paint; the large panel above you lit by lines of vibrant white light that cast the eerie green-white radiance of the tunnels. But this room is no such place; there is the simple mattress you lay upon covered in white linen sheets, while you are covered in a thickly knit cotton blanket. The pillow is stiff and unforgiving, while your face is partly wrapped in bandages and wadding. A curtain is half drawn, and you see the steel tray, with steel tools, and the curved steel basin which has the acrid scent of alcohols and the coppery stain of blood within.

Sitting up, you discover a simple gown of thin material all that covers your naked body; you look frantically for the mask, for the one link to your sister that you have kept close this whole time. It lies along the rails of the bed that are raised upon one side. Taking it in hand you slowly turn to sit on the side of the bed, looking for your savior.

There is a counter and cabinet on the opposite side of the room, with jars of liquids and tins of wooden sicks with cotton at the end, bottles of solution, preserved organs and embryonic things that should not have grown so. You slide off the bed, your ears ringing and the world askew.

The curtain is pulled back in a rush of plasticine noise and rattling rings upon the pole that supports it. She is there, dressed the same, her delicate choker of black glass and leather shimmering in the weird light. “You should rest; your injuries were grave, even for you, Cassilda.” Her eyes are pools of darkness in her pale face; she strikes you as so gentle, so lovely, like a porcelain doll that live and breathes.

[] How do you know me – do you know my sister as well?!
[] I must find Carmilla now more than ever....
[] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?
[] Thank you for your kindness; how may I repay it?

>>652440
>I'm sorry, there's much I have forgotten.
>Thank you for your kindness, how may I repay it
>I must find Camilla... right?

>>652440
>[] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?
>[] How do you know me – do you know my sister as well?!
Followed by
>[] I must find Carmilla now more than ever....

>>652440
>[X] I must find Carmilla now more than ever....
Missed most of the quest.

>>652440
>[x] Thank you for your kindness; how may I repay it?
>[x] How do you know me – do you know my sister as well?!
Everything leads back to sis!

>>652440
>[] How do you know me – do you know my sister as well?!
>[] I must find Carmilla now more than ever....
>[] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?

>>652440
>[] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?
>[] Thank you for your kindness; how may I repay it?

>>652440
>[] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?
>[] Thank you for your kindness; how may I repay it?

>>652440
>[] I'm sorry if my actions are queer, there is much I have forgotten.
[] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?
[] Thank you for your kindness; how may I repay it?

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[x] How do you know me – do you know my sister as well?!
[x] I must find Carmilla now more than ever....
[X] Who are you, that helps me when others must turn their wrath upon me?
[X] Thank you for your kindness; how may I repay it?
[+] My memories are strange – I have forgotten things I should know....

It would be rude to demand so much of her so quickly, but her altruism bothers you greatly. There are gifts....

the screams the screams the sweet beautiful screams the lights f Hyades over the Lake as the sacrifices sing for the glory of

“Who are you, that would set yourself in my path and assist me, when all others do not? It is a strange thing, to be granted such....kindness.” The words come out sticky and slurred, your tongue disobedient and awkward.

“You may call me Nyean-Neither. Nyean is fine.” She gently turn your head, and then back, looking at her handiwork. “I am afraid that you may need a different mask that the one you are so fond of, when you leave this place.” Her accent is soft, sibilant, her voice so calm and sweet. She reminds you of the singers in the palace, their voices rising in hymn.

Pain strikes you and you double over, your stomach clenched in agonized revulsion. Nyean seems unsurprised and lays a gentle hand upon your shoulder as the pin passes. “You should not move too much.”

Looking up at her you wish to cry, but you fear it would cause you pain, rather than granting relief from it. “My memories....they are broken and strange. Do you know of me? Know my sister? I do not recall you, yet you know my name without my telling....” You gaze into her dark eyes with your remaining eye, and she shakes her head.

“I know the names of everyone in this city. You are not an exception. But as I know your name, so do I know that of your consort.” She steps away and turns her back on you as she move to the counter. “Your sister....is not here. She is never where you look for her, but you will always find her when you need her. You should give up your search, and resign yourself to her fate, as you resigned yourself to your own fate.”

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>>652662
Your hand creeps over to the tray, to close about the handle of on a sharp, a slender handle with a tiny blade, but one that will cut through flesh to bone with ease.

the patter of rain upon stone the screams of the man the cries of the woman the rain of crimson upon the shores so beautiful come home come home come home

The blade is cold and hard in your hand, which trembles. “You have been kind to me. How may I repay it? Is there ought that can repay your kindness, your generosity that is within my meager power, Nyean?” You grip the blade tight, it must not slip, if it slips you too will bleed, and you have bled much already.

He pauses, and looks down, the woman-child thoughtful. She I beautiful but she is a fool, and your sister must be found, needs you, as you need her. “I would have you take me to the Lake, the starry lake near your home. That is all.”

[] Look in the basin, see what she took from your head.
[] Repay her kindness with the only kindness that you can.
[] Take her to Lake Hali; it is the least you an do for your savior.
[] Embrace your dear friend and refuse. That is not a gift.

>>652668
>[] Look in the basin, see what she took from your head.
>[] Repay her kindness with the only kindness that you can.

>>652668
>[x] Look in the basin, see what she took from your head.
>[x] Embrace your dear friend and refuse. That is not a gift.
Oh dear.

>>652668
>[] Take her to Lake Hali; it is the least you an do for your savior.
It may not be a mercy, but I'd still feel bad for taking things in our own hands rather than do as she wishes.

>>652668
[] Look in the basin, see what she took from your head.
[] Embrace your dear friend and refuse. That is not a gift.

>>652668
[] Take her to Lake Hali; it is the least you an do for your savior.

>>652668
>>652705
>[] Are you sure that you know what you ask for?

>>652668
>[X Take her to Lake Hali; it is the least you an do for your savior.

>>652668
>[] Embrace your dear friend and refuse. That is not a gift.
>[] Repay her kindness with the only kindness that you can.

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[X] Look in the basin, see what she took from your head.
[X] Take her to Lake Hali; it is the least you an do for your savior.
[X] Embrace your dear friend and refuse. That is not a gift.
[+] Are you certain you know what you ask for?

You leave the pallid mask upon the bed, and slide off of it slowly. The room spins momentarily, but only so long, and it does become still. She is still turned away from you, leaning over the counter. It is easy to imagine her eyes closed as she contemplates the wish she has asked of you.

A glance in the basin shows you a glimpse of red-stained liquid, within which strange, segmented things curl and twist, bits of flesh squirm hideously, and fragments of metal shine. A single perfect eye looks up at you, emerald green and pupil slit like some reptilian monstrosity's gaze.

Stepping up behind Nyean, you look at her slender figure; she is woman yet child, slender yet feminine. Fragile in some manner, yet she is undoubtedly strong. You reach for her....your hand trembles....you gently place it upon her back. She stiffens, then relaxes lowly. You move closer and embrace her from behind. Nyean does not seem to notice or care about the scalpel you hold. “Are you certain this is what you wish? It does not seem like much of gift to me, to take you to my homeland. Would it truly please you, or do you seek some other escape, some....relief?”

Nyean looks up, and presses back against you. Not sensually, not in the seeking of affection but in the need for comfort. She is warm, and soft, yet there is a....a sleekness, a suppleness to her body that should not be so giving. “I must. It I the closest I can get to my own home now. From there I can seek the peaks where great beasts hunt, and they can take me to my home.” Her hands cover your arms. “I have thought of nothing else for many long years.”

“Very well. But not in this place. We must be above ground, in the city at least.” She hesitates....then nods.

Releasing her she kneels and removes you clothing from the cabinet, the pallid mask laid atop your man's jacket, that covering your blouse and shorts. Your shoes too are here. All have been cleaned. “We must go soon. The sun rises in scant hours. I know that it must be night when we make the ascent.” Thus it is that you dress, an prepare yourself to return home.

But you will return to the city; your sister is here....somewhere.

>To be continued....

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Thank you for readign and playing. We will continue tonight at 12:00 am PST, the cusp of Sunday to Monday.

I'll answer a few questions, but I may not be able to give you straight answers to all of them.

>>652955
Autosave ate this section of the sentence:

>Releasing her from your embrace, she kneels

>>652955
Hmmm, interesting.
Thanks for writing, XS! I'll probably be asleep when you run next so anons better be good.

>>652974
Well it will be another split run, early morning then late morning.

I'm working 7 days a week right now, so it's keeping me sane, since I was unable to run my vigilante campaign or play Pillory.

>>653020
Ouch, 7 days a week? That's pretty crazy, I'm amazed you have the energy for that. Then again, I'm a lazy European. Anyway, hope you get some more time for yourself soon.

>>652966
Thanks for running

>>653028
I've had to work 8 hour shifts every day for over a month straight earlier this year. The job is not demanding, but it does wear on me after a while. that's often when these short one shots get done.

>>653020
>working 7 days a week
Damn, that sucks.

Anyways, thanks for running!

>>653071
I hope you can get some rest, XS.

>>653071
Is it possible for Cassilda to move this woman closer to her home/towards a safer area than the lake?

>>653071
Also, would it be possible for Cassilda to heal her eye at some point?

>>653071
It seems like Cassilda's eye regenerated somehow, can she just pop it back into her head, or is it better to not use it to see?

Also, what is Pillory? I know the word, but not the game.

>>653154
Anon, it's Carcosa. There is no safety in Carcosa,, except in the embrace of your madness.

>>653164
Cassilda? No. Nyaen? Yes. Though the results might not be as expected.

>>653202
Pillory is a high level character in a semi-ERP game. She is currently an Elan Psion Thrallherd specialist in body manipulation and restraints, with a strong xenophilia prefernce in her vic-er, lovers.

>>653223
>Except in the embrace of your madness
And Nyaen GETS that, right?
>>653223
>Nyaen can restore an eye but the results would not be as expected.
Would it negatively effect Cassilda's ability to find her sister or mark her as some sort of monster?

>>653272
>Would it negatively effect Cassilda's ability to find her sister
No.

>or mark her as some sort of monster?
Possibly - there are more incidences of spirit-children being born, and everyone can see them now, so that's more of a 'recognize her as something dangerous' than 'as a monster' situation (it is unlikely).

>>653306
Doesn't her remaining eye mark her as something dangerous already?

>>653345
That depends on of you think the reptilian eye in the basin was hers or not. No one seemed to think she was particularly unusual until after she got angry....especially since her eye couldn't have been intact after a bullet passed through it.

>>653365
Considering that she's still alive, I have to assume whatever protects her grew a new eye for her that was...close-enough, relative to it's tastes.

>>653238
While it's sad to hear that you haven't been able to play as her in a while, it's good to learn that you don't carry the curse of forevergm, since it's nice to be on both sides of the screen.

Take care XS, your health is more important than running constantly!

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The End of the Aftermath Continues with Casillda and Nyean fleeing to the dubious safety of Lake Hali.
>>661271