Beasts of Ruin

Calinor is a world brimming with legend, magic, and untold horrors. For thousands of years humans and elves have fought against a scourge known as the beastials: powerful beings that can transform into monstrous creatures. Only within the last few centuries—with the advent of industry and advanced weaponry—has this threat begun to wane, but the world is still fraught with danger, largely unexplored, and full of mystery. Meanwhile, the [[Roujin]] Rangers, the first shield of humanity, has in turn stood against them in various forms for nearly just as long. At least, that’s the official story. Perhaps the truth is far more complicated. Perhaps there are more sinister things at work than mere beast-men… >> [[OK]] >> [[Tell me more about the Beastials|The Beastial Field Guide]] >> [[Yeah, yeah, just get on with it already!]]

Magic? Magic! >> [[Flamewright|Path A]]—cast and control fire. Abilities include short-range blasts, temporary flame shields, heat-seeking missiles, and fire whips. Also useful as a light source. Strong and versatile, but extremely weak to water! >> [[Tell me more about the magic of Calinor|MagicOverview]]

Are you always this impatient? Many a Ranger has met their end due to a lack of patience. And I would so *hate* to see you meet a similar fate. >> [[Alright, sorry|OK]] >> [[Meh|OK]] >> [[Don’t tell me what to do!|OK]]

<u>The Beastial Field Guide</u> *The monstrous and metamorphic beastials have long been categorized into eight (or possibly nine; see below) basic forms. Three are elvish beastials, while the remainder are human beastials, all of which are capable of transforming at will. Unlike normal humans or elves, they are entirely unable to use magic, and their soul-lights appear black and withered as a result. This is because they have been cursed into an unnatural state, though the exact cause is still uncertain. Beastials can take a great deal of punishment, and are essentially immune to bullets unless the gun is runed. Any offspring resulting from a union between a beastial and human or elf will also be a beastial. * • **Lycan:** Resembles an oversized wolf, complete with claws, sharp teeth, canine facial features, a short tail, and coarse fur. The fur comes in a wide range of colors, including black, gray, silver, white, dark brown, russet, or tan. Most common human-type in the world. Lycans generally walk on two limbs and run on all-fours. While they cannot run for particularly long distances, they are capable of incredible bursts of speed when the situation demands it. • **Vamparat:** Looks more-or-less like a giant bat appearance-wise, only with razor-sharp teeth and sulfurous yellow eyes. Fur colors are usually black, gray, or various shades of brown, but white, blue-tick, and even gold have been spotted on occasion. Incapable of true flight, but can glide long distances. Constantly beset by ravenous hunger for food and (especially) blood. Weaker than most other Beastials. Vamparats are the most common elf-type in the world. • **Vamparesta**: Should vamparestas even be considered Beastials? This question has been hotly debated for centuries. On one hand, they are the result of a union between either an elf and vamparat, or two vamparestas, and share the extreme durability and blackened soul-lights of other Beastials. On the other hand, they cannot transform, resembling normal elves except for deathly-pale skin, gleaming red eyes, and sharp fangs. Additionally, they wield a unique form of magic known simply as Blood Magic. The exact classification may never be fully determined. • **Saberline:** Human-type. Nearly identical to lycans in most respects, except with shaggier fur and extremely large front teeth in the vein of wild sabertooth cats. Unlike sabertooths, though, these teeth are highly durable. Males have manes around the neck area as well. Fur color generally light brown or reddish-brown; spots and stripes also possible. Largest and strongest of all the Beastials; easily capable of tearing a person in half if they so desire. • **Lampryn:** So-called for their superficial resemblance to lampreys, although they are obviously not limited to water. Widely considered to be fairly disgusting in appearance, with slimy and clammy skin, several rows of triangular teeth, a pair of scythe-like single-digit limbs used to puncture tissue, and movement analogous to a snake. Their terrifying visage is matched only by their sheer ferocity, speed, and length. Fortunately, lampryns are rarely encountered. Usually pale white, pink, or green-gray. Elf-type. • **Scorpidian:** Half-man, half-scorpion. Incredibly tough exoskeleton—so tough, in fact, that they are quite simply impervious to all forms of damage except for sustained cannon fire. The stinger is full of a powerful and mind-numbingly painful neurotoxin that kills within an hour of injection. There is an antivenom treatment available, but reaching a hospital in time is rather difficult, and serious side-effects may occur regardless. Therefore, if encountered, the best course of action is to run away in the opposite direction. Exoskeleton colors include jet black, yellow, orange, or tan. • **Harpy:** Harpies are an interesting breed of Beastial in that they retain much of their humanity even while transformed. Their hands and feet end in talons, and they possess an immense wingspan with feathery hair on the head to match. Capable of long-distance flight and can hover in mid-air. Otherwise, their appearance is unchanged. These feathers come in a truly astounding array of colors, from comparatively dull browns, grays, and black to exotic tropical colors and beyond. Some cultures consider them to be beautiful as a result and don’t even classify them as Beastials. Indeed, a few nations even allow harpies to enlist in the armed forces! Those with more vibrant feathers are frequently targeted by poachers, though this is certainly not recommended. Make no mistake: flight is a serious advantage in combat situations. • **Therator:** Most commonly found in the equatorial regions of Calinor. Therators closely resemble various raptor species native to the continent of Kylustin. Their claws, for example, are very sharp, and each foot possesses a large killing claw which can be used to disembowel anyone unlucky enough to get in the way with terrifying efficiency. However, only their heads have feathers, in the form of brightly-colored crests of red, orange, or yellow. Their thick scaly skin is generally fairly vibrant as well, not unlike some harpies; many sport stripes or splotches. Therators are by far the fastest Beastials in existence, with top speeds of up to 70 kph. Human-type. • **Syphadon:** An uncommon but particularly fearsome elf-type. Imagine an octopus, only many times larger and with sharp thorns of keratin on each of its myriad tentacles—more than eight at that—and one can begin to understand why the syphadon inspires so much terror in the minds of humans and elves alike. Like their lampryn fellows, they are the most inhuman of the Beastials, not even remotely resembling the humanoid form. Lost limbs can be regenerated in minutes, making them exceedingly difficult to counter. They can also see in every direction at once, owing to the four eyes spaced evenly around the head. Thankfully, syphadons are rather slow and lumbering, and can often be outpaced. Their smooth slimy skin comes in pastel shades of red, yellow, orange, or purple. *Document courtesy of the Roujin Rangers. Please report any suspected Beastials to the order immediately for containment. Do not attempt to engage in combat yourself unless absolutely necessary.* >> [[Back|Background Lore]]

**The Story So Far** Ruiz Callas is a disgraced and widely-disliked former Ranger. He was once considered a prodigy and hero for putting an end to the infamous [[lycan|Lycan1]], the Winter Wight, and his bloody reign of terror. However, after vengeful beastial terrorists murdered his wife and young son, he never fully recovered. He spiraled into despair and alcoholism, and lost much of his skills and approachable, supportive demeanor. Eventually, he was forcibly removed from the Order. Since then, he has roamed the various nations of Calinor, a lone drifter and gun-for-hire, always with a flask of [[Kagan|Kagan1]] Fire-Whiskey close at hand. Recently, there have been troubling reports from the southern frontier of human civilization: a dozen innocents have disappeared from the dreary coastal town of [[Old Salt’s Throw|Novene1]]. Ruiz, unsurprisingly, suspects beastials. But could it be something else? It’s all up to you to find out, dear reader. >> [[Got it!|AGold1]] >> [[Wait! Before we begin, spin me a story...|MaliceA]] >> [[Hold on, I want to read this one too...|TwoFacesA1]]

Ruiz arrived at the town of Old Salt’s Throw late in the afternoon. Steely clouds obscured the sun, and the feeling of decay permeated everything in sight. Ramshackle buildings and shacks, leafless and gnarly trees, rain-slick oyster-shell streets, and a decrepit lighthouse mere meters from crumbling black cliffs towered over the landscape. The wind was a constant whistle, bitter and fierce. There was no one in sight, save for a man nailing a signpost to a medium-sized building that he guessed functioned as the town hall, way off in the distance. “Well. This is quite possibly the most miserable village in existence,” Ruiz muttered, patting the flank of his horse, Marlou. He tried not to let his sudden dread show. Marlou huffed, and Ruiz quickly dismounted and tugged on his reins. The dapple appeared worryingly close to collapse. He had pushed him harder than he should have, he knew, but the long trek across the Bitter Moor had been harsh indeed. Thankfully, as he approached the town’s dilapidated perimeter wall, he noticed a small stable next to an ancient-looking inn called “The Saving Grace”. >> [[Take Marlou to the stables|AGold2]] >> [[Talk to the man first|Red1]]

Ruiz led Marlou to the stables. It was covered to protect from the wind and rain, and a water trough was tucked against the far wall. *Looks decent enough, I suppose.* He looked back at Marlou. “Hold on, mate. I’ll get some food for you real soon. Promise.” >> [[Talk to the man|AGold3]] >> [[Enter the inn|A1]]

Ruiz decided to talk to the man first, figuring it wouldn’t take long. As they approached, Marlou huffed again, and the man looked around wildly at the sound, as if expecting an attack. *Yeah. A Bestial has definitely been through here all right.* The man visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Ruiz. “Uh, sorry about that,” Ruiz said. “No worries,” the man replied. He was tall and roughly middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair and weathered features that indicated a life spent on the seas. “Just trying to fix this here sign up.” Ruiz read the sign: New Mayor Needed. Inquire Within. “Wait, does this mean the previous mayor…?” “’Fraid so, chap. Died yesterday. Took a tumble right off the lighthouse, he did,” he said. Curiously, he didn’t seem particularly upset by it. Perhaps the fisherman hadn’t liked the mayor. “Ugly claw marks across his chest too,” he added. “Claw marks?” Ruiz asked, failing to keep a note of excitement out of his voice. It could mean only one thing: Beastials were afoot. And he was just the right man for the job. The man adjusted his wooly cap and said, “Oh, sure. The third so far with ‘em. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be one of them Rangers, would you?” He peered hopefully at Ruiz. “That I am," Ruiz lied. "I’m here to stop the violence, and I’m not leaving until I do. In the meantime, do you mind spreading the word about my arrival? I’d like to talk to the townsfolk tomorrow, in the town hall if possible. To reassure them, you understand.” “Hmm. Might be a touch difficult to convince ‘em to leave their homes, but I’ll see what I can do. You can stay at the inn for the night. And they got a stable for your horse,” he said. And with that, the man turned back to his work. >> [[Take Marlou to the stables|Red2]]

Ruiz decided to talk to the man first, figuring it wouldn’t take long. As he approached, his boot crunched loudly on an oyster shell, and the man looked around wildly at the sound, as if expecting an attack. *Yeah. A bestial has definitely been through here all right.* The man visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Ruiz. “Uh, sorry about that,” Ruiz said. “No worries,” the man replied. He was tall and roughly middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair and weathered features that indicated a life spent on the seas. “Just trying to fix this here sign up.” Ruiz read the sign: New Mayor Needed. Inquire Within. “Wait, does this mean the previous mayor…?” “’Fraid so, chap. Died yesterday. Took a tumble right off the lighthouse, he did,” he said. Curiously, he didn’t seem particularly upset by it. Perhaps the fisherman hadn’t liked the mayor. “Ugly claw marks across his chest too,” he added. “Claw marks?” Ruiz asked, failing to keep a note of excitement out of his voice. It could mean only one thing: Beastials were afoot. And he was just the right man for the job. The man adjusted his wooly cap and said, “Oh, sure. The third so far with ‘em. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be one of them Rangers, would you?” He peered hopefully at Ruiz. “That I am," Ruiz lied. "I’m here to stop the violence, and I’m not leaving until I do. In the meantime, do you mind spreading the word about my arrival? I’d like to talk to the townsfolk tomorrow, in the town hall if possible. To reassure them, you understand.” “Hmm. Might be a touch difficult to convince ‘em to leave their homes, but I’ll see what I can do. You can stay at the inn for the night in the meantime," he said. And with that, the man turned back to his work. >> [[Go to the inn|AGold4]] >> [[Explore the village|PA5]]

The Saving Grace Inn was in much better shape than most of the other buildings. It smelled of fish, salt, and stale beer. Only two people were in the room: a stooped elderly woman, cleaning glasses behind the bar, and a surly man sitting at a rickety table, reading a book with a bored expression on his face. Ruiz approached the bar and sat down. “An ale, a bowl of fish stew, and feed for my horse, if you please,” he said, reading off the menu above the bar. He hadn’t eaten a hot meal in days, and he felt nauseous. No matter what it actually tasted like, the food would do wonders. As for the ale…he had run out of the fire-whiskey two days ago. He deserved a drink. The women smiled good-naturedly. “Ah, a visitor! How marvelous! Oh, it’s been many a moon since we’ve had a guest, hasn’t it, Henri?” The man at the table grunted in the affirmative. “Why, our last spent three nights here. A handsome young man he was, and ravenous, too! Oh yes, very hungry, he especially enjoyed our blood sausages…” The woman droned on and on, even while he began eating, and Ruiz quickly tuned her out. The ale, predictably, was rather bland, but the fish stew was unexpectedly tasty. He walked up the creaking stairs to his room feeling more satisfied than he had in ages. The room itself was cramped and a bit drafty. There was a small fireplace, however, and he quickly blasted the logs with his magic. The heat washed over him, and he sighed in contentment. *Yes, sleep will come easily tonight* he thought as he sat down on the bed. It had been too long since he'd slept on a proper feather mattress. >> [[Rest|A2a]] >> [[Talk to the old woman again|A2b]] >> [[Explore the village|A2c]]

The Saving Grace Inn was in much better shape than most of the other buildings. It smelled of fish, salt, and stale beer. Only two people were in the room: a stooped elderly woman, cleaning glasses behind the bar, and a surly man sitting at a rickety table, reading a book with a bored expression on his face. Ruiz approached the bar and sat down. “An ale, a bowl of fish stew, and feed for my horse, if you please,” he said, reading off the menu above the bar. He hadn’t eaten a hot meal in days, and he felt nauseous. No matter what it actually tasted like, the food would do wonders. As for the ale…he had run out of the fire-whiskey two days ago. He deserved a drink. The women smiled good-naturedly. “Ah, a visitor! How wonderful! Oh, it’s been many a moon since we’ve had a guest, hasn’t it, Henri?” The man at the table grunted in the affirmative. “Why, our last spent three nights here. A handsome young man he was, and ravenous, too! Oh yes, very hungry, he loved our blood sausages—” The woman droned on and on, even while he began eating, and Ruiz quickly tuned her out. Now that he thought about it, something about the mayor’s death bothered him. He was certain that a lycan was behind the killings and disappearances, but the idea that one of them followed or lured him up to the lighthouse to commit murder didn’t make much sense. It would have been more than strong enough to kill the man in his home, magic or not. Stranger still, it evidently hadn’t bothered to climb back down to eat him afterwards. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. *Well, I’ll figure it out in the morning. Once I’m good and rested, I’ll get to the bottom of this mess fast enough. Then no one else can say that I ‘used to be’ great.* The ale, predictably, was rather bland, but the fish stew was unexpectedly tasty. When he finished, the woman handed him a room key, and he walked up the creaking stairs to his room feeling more satisfied than he had in ages. The room itself was cramped and a bit drafty. There was a small fireplace, however, and he quickly blasted the logs with his magic. He sighed in contentment as the heat washed over him. *Yes, sleep will come easily tonight* he thought as he sat down on the bed. It had been too long since he'd slept on a proper feather mattress. >> [[Rest|PA7]] >> [[Talk to the old woman again|AGold5]] >> [[Explore the village|PA9]]

Ruiz wasn't quite ready to enter the inn yet, though. Dusk was still a couple of hours away, after all. He walked back outside into the brisk, damp air.

Ruiz wasn't quite ready for sleep yet, though. Dusk was still a couple of hours away, after all. He walked back outside into the brisk, damp air. Unfortunately, the man he'd seen earlier was no longer in sight. He approached the signpost anyway. It said: New Mayor Needed. Inquire Within. Had the previous mayor been killed as well? *This just gets better and better.* Ruiz pulled open the doors of the building and stepped inside. The interior was nearly as depressing as the rest of the town: old, dark, and damp. The peeling, sickly-green wallpaper was faded from age and mold. It was also cold, and as he pulled his duster closer around his body, he heard a muffled *thump* from behind a door on the left. >> [[Investigate the noise]]

Ruiz decided it was time to sleep. It was pouring when he woke up the next morning. The rain and wind lashed at the window, and the entire inn creaked. If he hadn't been so exhausted already, he suspected he wouldn't have gotten much sleep at all. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was broken. "I don't know what I expected," he muttered. He dressed, washed his face in the dirty sink, and walked downstairs into the tavern. It was completely empty. *The townsfolk better be waiting for me in the town hall.* >> [[Go to town hall|ND TH]]

Ruiz decided it was time to sleep. He was too exhausted to do anything else. It was pouring when he woke up the next morning. The rain and wind lashed at the window, and the entire inn creaked. If he hadn't been so exhausted already, he suspected he wouldn't have gotten much sleep at all. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was broken. *Because of course it is.* He dressed, washed his face in the dirty sink, and walked downstairs into the tavern. The old woman was behind the bar again, cleaning glasses with a rag that was much dirtier than the glasses themselves. He sincerely hoped she hadn't used the same rag yesterday. "Hello, dearie!" She said, smiling at him. "Would you like some breakfast?" "Sure. I'll take a—" he glanced at the menu. "A tater scone and a link of blood sausage." 15 minutes later, he stepped outside into the pouring rain. The blood sausages had, indeed, been delicious. >> [[Explore the village|A3]]

Ruiz decided to talk to the old woman again. She'd mentioned a "ravenous" guest, and though he hadn't really listened to her at the time, something about that seemed strange in retrospect. A sort of nagging feeling settled in his mind. The man, Henri, was gone when Ruiz approached the bar again. *Probably feeding Marlou* he thought. "Oh, hello again, dear! Did you need something?" the woman asked. "Yeah...it's 'bout that guest of yours. The guy who liked the blood sausages. What happened to him?" She looked delighted, as if gossiping about guests was her favorite pastime. Maybe it was. He couldn't imagine what else folks did around here besides fishing. "Ah, you mean Mr. Dunakinn? It's actually quite wonderful, you see, because—" And on and on she went, for nearly ten minutes. Eventually, however, he learned that this Dunakinn character had decided to settle down in the village. Which struck Ruiz as highly suspicious. *What kind of lunatic would want to live here?* And the attacks had started not long afterwards... "Where does he live now?" Ruiz interrupted. "Why, down on the shore. There's a cottage, tucked right under the cliffs. There's a path down to it. I'd wait 'til morning, though. It gets mighty dark round these parts at night!" *Not for me* thought Ruiz with a smirk. >> [[Investigate Mr. Dunakinn's cottage|AGold6]] >> [[Then again... (go to bed)|A5]]

Ruiz wasn't quite ready for sleep yet, though. Dusk was still a couple of hours away, after all. He walked back outside into the brisk, damp air. The man he'd talked to earlier was gone.

<u>Malice</u> Let me tell you how I met my end. It was in the remote village of Old Salt’s Throw, where the sun never shines and the rain is a haunting specter under steely storm-skies. On the coast it waited for me, iron waves a tempest raging against high black rock crumbling and weathered from centuries of assault, air tasting of decay. Like a colossal stone monolith a lighthouse stood over land and surf. But I’m getting ahead of myself. For countless sleepless nights I had felt a presence pressing upon my mind, filling it with whispers of madness and of a black forest shivering under the pallid light of the moon. Something beyond was calling to me, emanating from the village of Old Salt’s Throw where several baffling vanishings had occurred. So one cold night in October I resolved to find the party responsible. Only then would my night torments end; and only then would I become the greatest Ranger in all of Roujin. After days of travel I arrived. The air was thick with an autumn haze and the cobblestones were slick with sleet. Here there was nothing but black and grey, for the colors of the world had blown away in the chill wind from the sea. The only inn was the Saving Grace, a drafty place with peeling walls and floorboards that creaked with every step. The food was dull and the bed was hard; the one consolation a stone hearth in my room that promised blazing warmth. But sleep did not come to me that night. I huddled under the moth-bitten blankets hoping to drift into that comfortable abyss and forget. Then I felt the presence once again, a weight filled with the dread of ages. Whispers scratched at my bones, inviting me to look out the window and see… …a creature standing on the cliff’s edge, crimson eyes gleaming in the dimness. Watching. Waiting. Hungry with malice. For a brief moment I stood transfixed with pure terror at the sight of it, but then the feeling passed and my heart swelled with courage: now was the time to slay this horrid beast, put an end to my mad suffering and find justice. I raced down the stairs, flew out the door, pulled out my revolver, and ran straight to the lighthouse near it had last stood. I felt empowered and so very clever, for I could not see that Death was stalking the shadow of my step. The inside was lit by gas lamps, light weak and ever-shifting on the brick. I climbed up and up the cast-iron stairs, now eager to fight and prior fright dissolving into the ether. I reached the top, bright beacon alight above the midnight mist and salt spray. Nothing greeted me save for the breeze. Suddenly the lamp winked out and I heard the labored breathing from behind. I spun around, stomach ice-cold. There it was, the monstrous thing, standing tall with jagged claws and razor teeth, with leathery skin and scarlet sight like sullen embers of fading fire. It grinned malevolently and I cursed my hubris and stupidity as I fell from the world forever. >> [[Back|Path A]]

Cautiously, Ruiz opened the door and peered inside the room, expecting trouble. But there was no one. In fact, nothing even looked out of place. Bookshelves lined the wall, old like the rest of the building. The books were perfecty placed on the shelves. Evidently it was some kind of records room. Had he simply imagined the noise? >> [[Look around|PA11]] >> "This is a waste of time!" [[(Go back to the hallway)|Hallway]]

He decided to talk to Mr. Dunakinn. He hurried back outside and walked towards the cliffs. Ruiz was surprised to see how dark it was already. The lighthouse beacon had not been turned on yet, either. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Still, with flame in hand, finding the path proved a trivial excercise. The path itself, however, was a different story entirely: steep stone steps, carved straight into the black cliffside. Slick as sleet, and no railing to hold. At night. With wind. Even with his skills, it would be treacherous. >> "This is far too dangerous for my liking." [[(Return to the inn)|A4a]] >> [[Continue on anyway|AGold7]]

Ruiz decided it was time to sleep. The mystery of Mr. Dunakinn could wait until morning, surely? It was pouring when he woke up the next morning. The rain and wind lashed at the window, and the entire inn creaked. If he hadn't been so exhausted already, he suspected he wouldn't have gotten much sleep at all. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was broken. *Because of course it is.* He dressed, washed his face in the dirty sink, and walked downstairs into the tavern. It was completely empty. *The townsfolk better be waiting for me in the town hall.* >> [[Go to town hall|ND TH]]

As he approached the building, he saw the same old man standing next to the double doors, smoking a pipe. "Ah, there you are. Was wond'ring when you'd show your face," he said upon noticing Ruiz. Ruiz grunted. "Is everyone here?" "Just 'bout. Everyone *left*, that is," he replied, coughing. "Excellent. Lets get a move on, then." The townsfolk were scattered haphazardly around the main hall, talking in hushed voices amongst themselves. They were not exactly an impressive lot. Out of the 30-or-so men and women, about half were middle-aged or older, with weathered features and distinctly joyless expressions. The rest were young adults; there were no children in sight. Which, Ruiz decided, was probably a good thing. This was no place to raise a kid. Everyone immediately stopped whispering as soon as Ruiz and the old man entered the room. With the exception of the innkeep, they did not look particularly happy to see him, he noted with annoyance. >> [[Address the townpeople|ND TH2]]

Ruiz took a closer look around the room. Again, it seemed perfectly normal. But just as he began to turn back towards the door, a book with gold lettering caught his eye. He glanced at it, curious. He pulled it off the shelf and stared at the cover. It was a handsome and well-crafted volume of hard black leather. The title, however, was mysterious to him; it was written in an ancient Elvish script he couldn't understand. Not for the first time, Ruiz wished he had actually studied Elvish during his Ranger days. Then he remembered where he was: a tiny, run-down village on the fringes of human civilization. *What is this book even doing here? And, more importantly, can anyone in this place actually read it?* He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the book felt important. Almost as if it had called to him, somehow... He took the tome with him as he stepped back into the hallway. >> [[Go back to the inn and sleep|BookSleep]] >> [[Continue exploring town hall|BookTH]] >> [[Walk around the village|BookVillage]]

Ruiz figured he misheard the noise. After walking around the rest of the town hall for several minutes, however, it became apparant that he was the only person in the building. When he left the building, it was already dark outside, and Ruiz felt physically drained. Clearly, it was time for a well-earned rest. >> [[Return to the inn|HallSleep1]]

Ruiz led Marlou to the stables. It was covered to protect from the wind and rain, and a water trough was tucked against the far wall. Unfortunately, the trough was empty. *Looks decent otherwise, I suppose.* He looked back at Marlou. “Hold on, mate. I’ll get some food and water for you real soon. Promise.” >> [[Enter the inn|Red3]]

"On second thought, nix the stew," Ruiz amended with reluctance. The women smiled good-naturedly, oblivious to his fresh suffering. “Ah, a visitor! How grand! Oh, it’s been many a moon since we’ve had a guest, hasn’t it, Henri?” The man at the table grunted in the affirmative. “Why, our last spent three nights here. A handsome young man he was, and ravenous, too! Oh yes, very hungry, he loved our blood sausages—” The woman droned on and on, even while he began drinking, and Ruiz quickly tuned her out. Now that he thought about it, something about the mayor’s death bothered him. He was certain that a lycan was behind the killings and disappearances, but the idea that one of them followed or lured him up to the lighthouse to commit murder didn’t make much sense. It would have been more than strong enough to kill the man in his home, magic or not. Stranger still, it evidently hadn’t bothered to climb back down to eat him afterwards. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. *Well, I’ll figure it out in the morning. Once I’m good and rested, I’ll get to the bottom of this mess fast enough. Then no one else can say that I ‘used to be’ great.* The ale, predictably, was rather tasteless. *Shit, I should have ordered the stew instead.* When he finished, the woman handed him a room key, and he climbed the creaking stairs to his room with profound dissatisfaction. The room itself was cramped and a bit drafty. There was a small fireplace, but the wood was missing. He sighed, feeling sorry for himself. *Yeah, sleep ain't gonna come easy tonight* he thought as he sat down on the bed. It least it was a proper feather mattress. >> [[Try to sleep anyway|NoFood]] >> [[Talk to the old woman again|PA2f]]

"On second thought, forget about the water," Ruiz amended. The women smiled good-naturedly. “Ah, a visitor! How wonderful! Oh, it’s been many a moon since we’ve had a guest, hasn’t it, Henri?” The man at the table grunted in the affirmative. “Why, our last spent three nights here. A handsome young man he was, and ravenous, too! Oh yes, very hungry, he loved our blood sausages—” The woman droned on and on, even while he began eating, and Ruiz quickly tuned her out. Now that he thought about it, something about the mayor’s death bothered him. He was certain that a lycan was behind the killings and disappearances, but the idea that one of them followed or lured him up to the lighthouse to commit murder didn’t make much sense. It would have been more than strong enough to kill the man in his home, magic or not. Stranger still, it evidently hadn’t bothered to climb back down to eat him afterwards. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. *Well, I’ll figure it out in the morning. Once I’m good and rested, I’ll get to the bottom of this mess fast enough. Then no one else can say that I ‘used to be’ great.* The ale, predictably, was rather bland, but the fish stew was unexpectedly tasty. When he finished, the woman handed him a room key, and he walked up the creaking stairs to his room feeling more satisfied than he had in ages. The room itself was cramped and a bit drafty. There was a small fireplace, but without any wood it wouldn't be much use. He sighed in exasperation. *Nothing ever quite works out, does it?* he thought as he sat down on the bed. It had been too long since he'd slept on a proper feather mattress. He felt somewhat guilty that Marlou didn't have any water, but it couldn't be helped. >> [[Go to sleep|NoWater]] >> [[Talk to the old woman again|PA2e]]

However, sleep did come...for a little while. Ruiz awoke abruptly in the night. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He looked around the room dazedly, confused as to reason he had woken up. Sure, he didn't have a fire, but the howling wind had died down significantly, and the mattress was hardly uncomfortable. What was the problem? And then he heard Marlou neigh in fear. Ruiz bolted out of the bed, rushed to the window, and peered out. At first, Ruiz saw nothing. But as he continued to look, he felt a sensation—the sensation of being watched. Something was standing out there, just beyond his field of view. He was sure of it. A voice suddenly filled his mind. *Ruiz. Ruuuuiz,* it called. Ruiz felt his hands shake, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest at the sound from nowhere. *Come and stop me, Ruiz,* the presence taunted. *If you can.* And in that moment, Ruiz’s dread turned to anger. How dare this, this…thing mock him! After everything he had done to get here? Whoever the beastial was, its end had come at last. He tried to ignore the fact that beastials didn't have telepathy. He pulled on his duster and ran flat out through the door, down the stairs, and into the cold night. The rain quickly soaked him to the skin. He caught sight of something dash down the street, and he hurriedly sprinted after it without a second thought. As Ruiz passed the stables, he quickly glanced inside to check on Marlou. Thankfully, the horse appeared uninjured, and he continued the pursuit. As he ran along the dark street, he somehow felt rather than saw himself gaining on the creature. Ruiz smirked in satisfaction. *Good. Nowhere for you to go now.* Any trace of fear within him had vanished. Until he felt it head in the direction of the lighthouse. Ruiz skidded to a halt, instantly suspicious. Was this how the mayor died? Had the beastial really lured him to the lighthouse in the middle of the night after all? And if so, could Ruiz still best it in combat if he followed it anyway? He gritted his teeth in frustration. He watched the entrance as the door swung open and shut, light momentarily spilling out in the dark. >> *This is exactly what he wants. I'm not going to play this game.* [[(Go back inside)|PA2g]] >> *No! I don’t have a choice. I have to go after it. This madness has to end now before anyone else gets hurt. I just need to be careful.* [[(Follow it)|PA2h]]

Ruiz decided to talk to the old woman again. She'd mentioned a "ravenous" guest, and though he hadn't really listened to her at the time, something about that seemed strange in retrospect. A sort of nagging feeling settled in his mind. The man, Henri, was gone when Ruiz approached the bar again. *Probably feeding Marlou* he thought. "Oh, hello again, dear! Did you need something?" the woman asked. "Yeah...it's 'bout that guest of yours. The guy who liked the blood sausages. What happened to him?" She grinned broadly, as if gossiping about guests was her favorite pastime. Maybe it was. He couldn't imagine what else folks did around here besides fishing. "Ah, you mean Mr. Dunakinn? It's actually quite wonderful, you see, because—" And on and on she went again, for nearly ten minutes. Eventually, however, he learned that this Dunakinn character had decided to settle down in the village. Which struck Ruiz as highly suspicious. *What kind of lunatic would want to live here?* And the attacks had started not long afterwards... "Where does he live now?" Ruiz interrupted. "Why, down on the shore. There's a cottage, tucked right under the cliffs. There's a path down to it. I'd wait 'til morning, though. It gets mighty dark round these parts at night!" *A golden opportunity for a flamewright—if I had enough energy to fuel my magic!* Ruiz thought sourly. >> [[Try anyway|404]] >> [[Too risky. Just go to bed|NoFood1]]

And sleep did come...for a little while. Ruiz awoke abruptly in the night. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He looked around the room dazedly, confused as to reason he had woken up. Sure, he didn't have a fire, but the howling wind had died down significantly, and the mattress was hardly uncomfortable. What was the problem? And then he heard Marlou neigh in fear. Ruiz bolted out of the bed, rushed to the window, and peered out. At first, Ruiz saw nothing. But as he continued to look, he felt a sensation—the sensation of being watched. Something was standing out there, just beyond his field of view. He was sure of it. A voice suddenly filled his mind. *Ruiz. Ruuuuiz,* it called. Ruiz felt his hands shake, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest at the sound from nowhere. *Come and stop me, Ruiz,* the presence taunted. *If you can.* And in that moment, Ruiz’s dread turned to anger. How dare this, this…thing mock him! After everything he had done to get here? Whoever the Beastial was, its end had come at last. He tried to ignore the fact that Beastials didn't have telepathy. He pulled on his duster and ran flat out through the door, down the stairs, and into the cold night. As soon as he did, he heard an awful ripping sound, and an icy chill that had nothing to do with the weather raced through him. "Marlou?" he shouted, heading to the stables. He pulled open the door, fully expecting to find Marlou's mutilated corpse. Instead, he found nothing. No body, no blood, no Beastial...just an empty stable, like Marlou had never been there at all. As he stared in mounting horror, he heard a loud hiss behind him. Before Ruiz even had time to turn, however, agony exploded from his stomach, and everything went black. In the morning, no one could find any trace of the man or his horse. Another victim, gone like so many others before him. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Start over?|Home Page]]

Ruiz decided to talk to the old woman again. She'd mentioned a "ravenous" guest, and though he hadn't really listened to her at the time, something about that seemed strange in retrospect. A sort of nagging feeling settled in his mind. The man, Henri, was gone when Ruiz approached the bar again. *Probably feeding Marlou* he thought. "Oh, hello again, dear! Did you need something?" the woman asked. "Yeah...it's 'bout that guest of yours. The guy who liked the blood sausages. What happened to him?" She grinned broadly, as if gossiping about guests was her favorite pastime. Maybe it was. He couldn't imagine what else folks did around here besides fishing. "Ah, you mean Mr. Dunakinn? It's actually quite wonderful, you see, because—" And on and on she went again, for nearly ten minutes. Eventually, however, he learned that this Dunakinn character had decided to settle down in the village. Which struck Ruiz as highly suspicious. *What kind of lunatic would want to live here?* And the attacks had started not long afterwards... "Where does he live now?" Ruiz interrupted. "Why, down on the shore. There's a cottage, tucked right under the cliffs. There's a path down to it. I'd wait 'til morning, though. It gets mighty dark round these parts at night!" *A golden opportunity for a flamewright!* Ruiz thought. >> [[Go to bed anyway|NoWater]] >> [[Investigate|NoWaterD]]

He decided to talk to Mr. Dunakinn. He hurried back outside and walked towards the cliffs. Ruiz was surprised to see how dark it was already. The lighthouse beacon had not been turned on yet, either. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. After a few minutes of stumbling around, he found the path: steep stone steps, carved straight into the black cliffside. Slick as sleet, and no railing to hold. At night. With wind. >> "Yeah, no thanks." [[(Return to the inn)|NoFood1]] >> "I'll be fine." [[(Take the path)|404a]]

Whoever they were, they were clearly intent on luring him into a trap. It would be monumentally foolish to run after them. Besides, he didn't have enough energy to muster up any magic in the first place. Frustrated, but knowing he had no other choice, he ran back to the inn and walk up to his room. Yet sleep eluded him for hours. The voice he'd heard haunted him, for Ruiz had never heard of telepathic beastials. They possessed no magic of their own, after all. Perhaps something else was afoot. Something even more sinister... Eventually, he drifted off into an restless sleep. >> [[Next morning|NoFoodM]]

When Ruiz reached the lighthouse, he yanked open the cast-iron door and ran up the steps as cautiously as he could. Gas lamps flickered from the walls as he ascended. Finally, as he began to feel close to falling to his knees from climbing so many stairs, he reached the top. The old lighthouse was dizzyingly tall, and the wind shrieked in his ears. The beacon shone on, bright as the sun. There was no sign of the creature; he was completely alone. He shook his head in disbelief. *Impossible! I chased it here, I saw it open the door! Where did—?* Ruiz heard ragged breathing behind him. He immediately whipped around in panic, reflexively preparing to blast the lycan dead before he remembered he no longer could at the moment. But it wasn’t a lycan, or a [[vamparat|Vamparat1]], or any other type of beastial in existence. In fact, it was like nothing he had ever seen before. The [[creature|Self-Portrait]] was humanoid, with jet black skin that somehow managed to look like gnarled tree roots and rough leather at the same time. Its red eyes burned like embers, and it grinned wickedly at him, mouth full of razor sharp teeth. For a few seconds, Ruiz just gaped at it in shock. He tried to speak, but no sounds came out. The creature tilted its head slightly, evidently amused at his reaction. Then it struck, lightning-fast, and he cursed his stupidity and hubris as he was tossed over the railing, past the cliffs, and down into the inky darkness of the crashing surf. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Start over?|Home Page]]

Mr. Dunakinn could wait. The man was undoubtedly suspicious, but it wasn't worth breaking his neck over it. Besides, he needed sleep. If he even managed to get it. However, sleep did come...for a little while. Ruiz awoke abruptly in the night. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He looked around the room dazedly, confused as to reason he had woken up. Sure, he didn't have a fire, but the howling wind had died down significantly, and the mattress was hardly uncomfortable. What was the problem? And then he heard Marlou neigh in fear. Ruiz bolted out of the bed, rushed to the window, and peered out. At first, Ruiz saw nothing. But as he continued to look, he felt a sensation—the sensation of being watched. Something was standing out there, just beyond his field of view. He was sure of it. A voice suddenly filled his mind. *Ruiz. Ruuuuiz,* it called. Ruiz felt his hands shake, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest at the sound from nowhere. *Come and stop me, Ruiz,* the presence taunted. *If you can.* And in that moment, Ruiz’s dread turned to anger. How dare this, this…thing mock him! After everything he had done to get here? Whoever the fiend was, its end had come at last. He tried to ignore the fact that beastials didn't have telepathy. He pulled on his duster and ran flat out through the door, down the stairs, and into the cold night. He caught sight of something dash down the street, and he hurriedly sprinted after it without a second thought. As Ruiz passed the stables, he quickly glanced inside to check on Marlou. Thankfully, the horse appeared uninjured, and he continued the pursuit. As he ran along the dark street, he felt, rather than saw, himself gaining on the creature. Ruiz smirked in satisfaction. *Good. Nowhere for you to go now.* Any trace of fear within him had vanished. Until he felt it head in the direction of the lighthouse. Ruiz skidded to a halt, instantly suspicious. Was this how the mayor died? Had this Beastial really lured him to the lighthouse in the middle of the night after all? And if so, could Ruiz still best it in combat if he followed it anyway? He gritted his teeth in frustration. He watched the entrance as the door swung open and shut, light momentarily spilling out into the dark. >> *This is exactly what he wants. I'm not going to play this game.* [[(Go back inside)|PA2g]] >> *No! I don’t have a choice. I have to go after it. This madness has to end now before anyone else gets hurt. I just need to be careful.* [[(Follow it)|PA2h]]

Slowly, carefully, he walked down the precarious path. And for a minute, it seemed everything would end up perfectly fine after all. Until Ruiz suddenly slipped and toppled straight off the staircase, down to the stony shore. He tried to scream as the ground rushed to meet him, but no sound came out. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> Huh. It's *almost* as if stumbling around in the dark next to a cliff is a terrible idea. >> [[Start over?|Home Page]]

Ruiz trudged up the old stairs of the inn, too tired to do anything else for the day. It was pouring when he woke up the next morning. The rain and wind lashed at the window, and the entire inn creaked. If he hadn't been so exhausted already, he suspected he wouldn't have gotten much sleep at all. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was broken. *What a surprise.* He dressed, washed his face in the dirty sink, and walked downstairs into the tavern. It was completely empty. *The townsfolk better be waiting for me in the town hall.* >> [[Eat breakfast first|BK2]] >> [[Go straight to town hall|TH2]]

He decided to talk to Mr. Dunakinn. He hurried back outside and walked towards the cliffs. Ruiz was surprised to see how dark it was already. The lighthouse beacon had not been turned on yet, either. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Still, with flame in hand, finding the path proved a trivial excercise. The path itself, however, was a different story entirely: steep stone steps, carved straight into the black cliffside. Slick as sleet, and no railing to hold. At night. With wind. Even with his skills, it would be treacherous. >> "I'm not risking my neck for this right now." [[(Return to the inn)|NoWaterSleep]] >> [[Trudge on|404b]]

No sooner had Ruiz fallen asleep when he suddenly woke up again. He got out of bed slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He looked around the room, confused. What had startled him? Sure, he didn't have a fire, but the howling wind had died down significantly, and the mattress was hardly uncomfortable. And then he heard Marlou neigh in fear. Ruiz bolted out of the bed, rushed to the window, and peered out. At first, Ruiz saw nothing. But as he continued to look, he felt a sensation—the sensation of being watched. Something was standing out there, just beyond his field of view. He was sure of it. A voice suddenly filled his mind. *Ruiz. Ruuuuiz,* it called. Ruiz felt his hands shake, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest at the sound from nowhere. *Come and stop me, Ruiz,* the presence taunted. *If you can.* And in that moment, Ruiz’s dread turned to anger. How dare this, this...thing mock him! After everything he had done to get here? Whoever the beastial was, its end had come at last. He tried to ignore the fact that beastials didn't have telepathy. He pulled on his duster and ran flat out through the door, down the stairs, and into the cold night. As soon as he did, he heard an awful ripping sound, and an icy chill that had nothing to do with the weather raced through him. "Marlou?" he shouted, heading to the stables. He pulled open the door, fully expecting to find Marlou's mutilated corpse. Instead, he found nothing. No body, no blood, no beastial...just an empty stable, like Marlou had never been there at all. >> [[...|404e]]

Slowly, carefully, he walked down the precarious staircase. And for a minute, it seemed everything would end up perfectly fine after all. Until Ruiz suddenly slipped and toppled straight off the stairs, down to the stony shore. He tried to scream as the ground rushed to meet him, but no sound came out. Desperate, he summoned the flames into a sphere around his body, in a last-ditch attempt to cushion his fall. >> [[Thankfully, it worked|404c]] >> [[It didn't work|404d]]

Ruiz fell hard against the pebbly beach, and the air rushed out of his lungs in a loud *whoosh*. And there he lay for several minutes, staring up into the starless night, as his breath returned and his pain slowly receded. Then he stood up and looked around for the cottage, dusting himself off in the process. After a moment, he spotted it, nestled against the cliff about a dozen meters from the staircase. As he half-limped to the house, he couldn't help but curse at the stairs which had nearly killed him. "Heh, why stop there? Might as well curse this village straight to [[Nel Droma|Nel]] too! And this damnable weather, and the beastials, and the fuckin' Rangers who couldn't be bothered to investigate this horrid place!" Undeterred, he reached the house, knocked hard on the door, and waited in tense silence for a response. None came. >> [[Blast open the door|404Blast]] >> [[Try a stealthier approach|404Stealth]] >> [[Turn back|404Bed]]

As he stared in mounting horror, he heard a loud hiss behind him. Before Ruiz even had time to turn, however, agony exploded from his stomach, and everything went black. In the morning, no one could find any trace of the man or his horse. He was merely another victim, gone like so many others before him. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Start over?|Home Page]]

*There's something strange about this book*, Ruiz thought, hours later. At first, he tried to get some sleep. It had been a long, long day. After what felt like an eternity, though, he'd realized that sleep would elude him, and he would simply have to make do without it that night. Instead, he'd turned to a far more fruitful endeavor: staring, unblinking, at the fine black book's glittering cover. >> *Strange...and sinister* [[(Put the book away)|BookSleep2]] >> *Strange, yes, but fascinating, too* [[(Keep examining it)|BookDeath]]

Absentmindedly, he took the book in his hands and cracked it open, straight down the middle. And what he saw changed him forever. He gasped in wonder—and then kept gasping. More and more and more, until all the air was sucked from the room, and he toppled to the floor with a thud. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Start Over?|Home Page]]

<u>Calinorian Magic: Quick Factsheet</u> Nearly everyone has the ability to perform magic, but it takes years of education, practice, and discipline to hone these skills. There is a strong genetic component to magical ability, yet it is not the sole determining factor. Additionally, magic has a will of its own—an intelligence—that can influence or corrupt the host wielder unless appropriate precaution is taken. Prolonged use of magic, within a short period of time, results in an affliction known as “Mageburn". Minor symptoms include headaches, nausea, nosebleeds, insomnia, nightmares, and exhaustion. Severe mageburn can cause skin deformity, insanity, extreme visual and auditory hallucinations, coma, and even death. Magic is divided into two basic forms: *Innate* and *Wild*. The main difference is that people are born with Innate Magic (IM), while Wild Magic (WM) is created artificially. All elves use IM, as they are a more magical species than humans. About 50% of humans are IM users, but a very small minority (<8%) cannot use magic at all. The rest, of course, use WM. In humans, magic can only be achieved through the use of tattoos. With IM users, these appear naturally on the body during puberty, and generally grow larger throughout an individual's lifespan. WM users must design and apply their own tattoos to achieve any benefits. Elves have natural “fey lines” analogous to tattoos. Moreover, people with IM cannot use WM, and vice versa. The latter therefore has more versatility, but is often less powerful. IM users are limited to a single “type”. WM users, on the other hand, are not technically limited in this way, though most are only capable of using 2 or 3 regardless. However, individuals must also possess a soul-light to perform magic in the first place. Soul-lights are essentially the "spark" that fuels our intelligence, ability to reason, and attunement to the magical arts. Therefore, those without magic totally lack a soul-light as well, and frequently face discrimination, hatred, and ridicule. Neither the Roujin Rangers nor the IOM (see below) support such prejudice; nevertheless, it is an unfortunate reality of life for the soulless. Magic was not always so commonplace, but over the centuries the number of people able to perform it has increased markedly. Many theories have been proposed to account for this. The Imperial Order of High Mages (popularly known as IOM), the premier authority on the magical arts in human society, believe this is due to the waning threat of the accursed beastials. The Seventh Convocation of Elven Masters, in contrast, argue that it is simply a natural process and demographic shift which has been continually occurring ever since magic first appeared on Calinor, and has nothing to do with beastials whatsoever. Either way, beastials have taken note of this development as well, with significant trepidation. Other ideas generally stem from the various religions found all over the world. Where the magic actually *came from*, though, will likely never be fully determined. Oddly enough, the increase of magic users as a whole has also led to the appearance of entirely new and rare forms of magic. IOM has identified several so far, each with only a handful of individuals in total. Needless to say, the Order is incredibly eager to discover and document these new forms of magic. >>[[Back|OK]]

<u>Two Faces (Flash-Fiction Edition)</u> *The only me is me.* *Are you sure the only you is you?* -<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmoN6W56M9I&t=">P.T.</a> **Part I: Unraveled** Henri laughed and laughed until his throat sputtered and his body trembled from exertion. Red droplets spattered from his sticky hands, gleaming in the soft warm glow of the electric lamps. Yesterday he was a wealthy man, elite of the elite, with a handsome estate in the countryside away from the riff-raff and the soot-stained urbanites. Trading in exotic pelts, cigars, and wild tales of the untamed lands beyond the control of man with the boys from the Royal Expeditionary Club. Father of two with a loving wife besides. Today he is the arbiter of death itself. “What a bloody mess!” exclaims a policeman. “Madness,” says another. He shakes his head in disgust at the gruesome sight in front of him. Today, Henri mutilated Hunter, the beloved family dog. Perhaps the most accurate and uncreative, on-the-nose name for a hound dog imaginable. But then, no one ever said that Henri was a particularly creative man. His children ran in terror as it happened, their mother right beside them. “It was the creature,” Henri whispered from the floor, voice crackling with both fear and awe as the policemen approach. “It forced my hand.” There is no creature, of course, none anyone else can see. Or is there? Maybe insanity is its own kind of creature, hidden from view behind the dark of the eyes, lurking on the fringes of consciousness…waiting to be unleashed at just the right moment. And when that day comes, who is really in control? As Henri is dragged away, he continues to rant about an unseen monster until his voice finally gives out entirely. Later on, the investigators find a journal in a loose floorboard under his upstairs four-poster. The fine leather-bound volume is filled with mad scribbling and incoherent ramblings. Arrangements are made posthaste; his new home will be an asylum in the city. He is placed in a padded cell with only a hard bed, scratchy woolen sheets, a wooden stool, and a cast-iron chamber pot to keep him company. They are his new family, for countless nights to come. >> [[Part II|TwoFacesA2]] >> [[Back|Path A]]

**II: Unreality** In six months time, Henri has entirely forgotten about his psychotic breakdown, as if the incident was a dream and nothing more. A figment of the mind, long discarded. Something, in fact, that had happened to someone else. Maybe it was even true—in a manner of speaking. Every morning, the same attendant brings him food: lumpy tasteless porridge and lukewarm water. The attendant feeds him too, like a dog. Henri doesn’t fully appreciate this cruel twist of fate. “Are you going to behave yourself today, Mr. Tolms?” he asks in the same dull tones as always. Dull. Now there was a good word to describe the man. He has one of those imminently forgettable faces, with plain middle-aged features, an unimpressive wisp of a moustache, and grey eyes that bore a remarkable resemblance to dust. Thus his name was Dust. It wasn’t his real name, obviously, but wasn’t a wrong name better than none? And despite Dust’s words, Henri never misbehaves at all. He forgot the incident so thoroughly he forgot to be insane as well. He hasn’t forgotten his hatred though. Hatred for his wife for putting him here, for stealing his children away, for ruining his reputation in the eyes of polite society. His so-called friends, for shunning him. His own flesh-and-blood, for recoiling from him in fear. The head doctor, for threatening to lobotomize him due to a supposed “severe lack of progress.” Dust, for daring to exist. He never once considered it was his fault alone, that it was through his own actions—or its actions; who could really say for sure?—that he now languished in a cell, out of sight from the world at large. Rage consumes every fiber, every strand, every individual thought and action of his being. It blinds Henri from the truth: he doesn’t remember, because he doesn’t want to remember. He has constructed a new reality. A single step inside is all it takes to know. >> [[Part III|TwoFacesA3]] >> [[Back to previous|TwoFacesA1]] >> [[Back|Path A]]

**III: Uncaged** On a cold bleak morning in October Doctor DaCann finally makes good on his promise to lobotomize Henri. “I did warn you,” the head doctor says with a slight shake of the head. Regret was etched into every line of his face, from the somber frown straight on down to the forehead crinkles half-hidden under his graying jet hair. “You didn’t listen, you didn’t progress. This is my only recourse. I’m sorry.” But his eyes...his eyes told a different story. Henri could just make out the barest hint of manic glee in DaCann’s icy absinthe eyes as he lay strapped to the operating table. He hid his affliction well, though not quite enough. Kindred spirits, or the last lie of a man living without truth? Either way, the only other possible witnesses were nothing but shattered minds and ramshackle bodies held together by the strength of bone and sinew. A pitiable group to which Henri himself would soon claim membership. And as the world dims and blurs around him, his final enraged thought is *You should be falling with me.* Dreams come. Darkness swirls around his body like a tempest. Images flash, too fast to see. Eternities pass in seconds. “Where am I?” Henri doesn’t really expect an answer, of course. Who would answer in such a sinister place? Yet an answer comes nonetheless, spilling out from the depths of the void. “Where you belong. With me.” Eyes alight in horrified fascination, Henri watches as the long-forgotten eldritch creature materializes in front of him. Henri smiles and, suddenly recalling a ditty he had written down in his journal once, begins to whisper: *There he is, the monstrous thing, standing tall* *with jagged claws and razor teeth,* *with leathery skin and scarlet sight* *like the sullen embers of a fading fire.* Hmm. Maybe he did have a spark of creativity. Evidently the creature thought so, for it grins back at him with unrestrained amusement. And then he was back in the real world—but not quite the one he left. In this new reality, DaCann and the two surgeons are dead, cut to bloody grisly pieces strewn all over the room. There was no creature in sight. And Henri laughed and laughed until his throat sputtered and his body trembled from exertion. >> [[Back to previous|TwoFacesA2]] >> [[Back|Path A]]

Lycans most closely resemble large wolves, complete with claws, sharp teeth, canine facial features, a short tail, and coarse fur. The fur comes in a wide range of colors, including black, gray, silver, white, dark brown, russet, or tan. Most common human-type in the world. Lycans generally walk on two limbs and run on all-fours. While they cannot run for particularly long distances, they are capable of incredible bursts of speed when the situation demands it. >> [[Back|Path A]]

The typical vamparat looks more-or-less like a giant bat, with the addition of razor-sharp teeth and sulfurous yellow eyes. Fur colors are usually black, gray, or various shades of brown, but white, blue-tick, and even gold have been spotted on occasion. Incapable of true flight, but can glide long distances. Constantly beset by ravenous hunger for food and (especially) blood. Weaker than most other beastials. Vamparats are the most common elf-type in the world. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Possible%20Vamparat%20Design.jpg> </div> >> [[Back|PA2h]]

Ruiz fell hard against the pebbly beach, and the air rushed out of his lungs in a loud *whoosh*. And there he lay for several minutes, staring up into the starless night, as his breath returned and his pain slowly receded. Then he stood up and looked around for the cottage, dusting himself off in the process. After a moment, he spotted it, nestled against the cliff about a dozen meters from the staircase. As he half-limped to the house, he couldn't help but curse at the stairs which had nearly killed him. "Heh, why stop there? Might as well curse this village straight to [[Nel Droma]] too! And this damnable weather, and the beastials, and the fuckin' Rangers who couldn't be bothered to investigate this horrid place!" Undeterred, he reached the house, knocked hard on the door, and waited in tense silence for a response. None came. >> [[Blast open the door|Blast]] >> [[Try a stealthier approach|AGold9]] >> [[Turn back|ND Bed1]]

He couldn't look away. It was unexpectedly quite lovely. Mesmerizing, even. A great companion too, with a wonderful sense of humor. In fact, he didn't know how he'd ever lived without it! Yes, it was very nice indeed. Very nice indeed. Very nice indeed. Very nice indeed. Very nice indeed... ... ... ... [[...|MyPrecious]]

Nel Droma is the "bad" afterlife of several popular religions. Specifically, those who have committed terrible crimes in their life are sent here to slowly waste away for thousands of years. It is generally described as a plane of pure torment and pestilence, a wasteland full of nightmarish creatures and other unspeakable horrors. The absolute worst offenders are afflicted with constant pain, for their injuries never heal, and the feeling never diminishes. >> [[Back|AGold8]]

Without hesitation, Ruiz blasted the door open with a flaming fist. The old wood splintered apart as it fell inward. He quickly jumped inside with his fist raised in attack position. The cottage was completely dark, so he cast a small ball of flame. As he cautiously moved through the space, he heard a distant rumble of thunder. Evidently a storm was approaching; he would have to make this quick. *Assuming Dunakinn is even here to begin with.* Without warning, he heard a loud hiss, and something heavy crashed into him from behind. They both slammed into the kitchen table, and it disintegrated in an explosive shower of splinters just like the door. He turned around and tried to blast his assailent, but Dunakinn—for who else could it be?—easily dodged the attack. His sulfurous eyes gleamed in the darkness as he rushed forward for a counterattack. >> [[Keep fighting|BlastFight]] >> [[Try to escape|Blast Escape]]

Ruiz walked around the perimeter of the cottage, looking for a better way inside. He had a hunch that a direct approach would not be particuraly useful this time. After a minute, he found a backdoor. It was covered with slime and moss. Gingerly, he swung open the door and stepped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. He called a ball of flame to his hand, and looked around the room. Apparently, it functioned as a storage room and pantry. The crept into the next room, wary of a sudden attack. But none came, and as he explored the rest of the cottage, he started to wonder if Mr. Dunakinn was actually there at all. Sighing, he turned to the front door—and froze. He heard a rustling sound somewhere behind him. >> [[Investigate|AGold10]] >> [[Run away|Run]]

As he continued to wait, however, his confidence began to waver, and he felt increasingly foolish. What was he doing, knocking on a potential beastial's door, at night, by himself? With a sigh, he turned away from the door and headed back to the stairs. It turned out that walking up was a far easier task than walking down. He felt even better with his choice when it started to rain. >> [[Go to sleep|ND Bed2]]

As he continued to wait, he began to feel rather foolish. What was he doing, knocking on a potential beastial's door, at night, by himself? With a sigh, he turned away from the door and headed back to the stairs. It turned out that walking up was a far easier task than walking down. 10 minutes later, he slipped into bed and closed his eyes. But no sooner had Ruiz fallen asleep when he suddenly woke up again. He got out of bed slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He looked around the room, confused. What had startled him? Sure, he didn't have a fire going, but the howling wind had died down significantly, and the mattress was hardly uncomfortable. And then he heard Marlou neigh in fear. Ruiz bolted out of the bed, rushed to the window, and peered out. At first, Ruiz saw nothing. But as he continued to look, he felt a sensation—the sensation of being watched. Something was standing out there, just beyond his field of view. He was sure of it. A voice suddenly filled his mind. *Ruiz. Ruuuuiz,* it called. Ruiz felt his hands shake, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest at the sound from nowhere. *Come and stop me, Ruiz,* the presence taunted. *If you can.* And in that moment, Ruiz’s dread turned to anger. How dare this, this...thing mock him! After everything he had done to get here? Whoever the Beastial was, its end had come at last. He tried to ignore the fact that beastials didn't have telepathy. He pulled on his duster and ran flat out through the door, down the stairs, and into the cold night. As soon as he did, he heard an awful ripping sound, and an icy chill that had nothing to do with the weather raced through him. "Marlou?" he shouted, heading to the stables. He pulled open the door, fully expecting to find Marlou's mutilated corpse. Instead, he found nothing. No body, no blood, no beastial...just an empty stable, like Marlou had never been there at all. >> [["What...?"|404e]]

The Creature—A Self-Portrait <style> img { max-width: 40%; max-height: 40%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/splitface_by_eemeling.jpg> </div> >> [[Uh-oh|PA2h]] (<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/eemeling/art/SPLITFACE-360378877">"Splitface"</a> by Otto Lehtonen)

Ruiz stood his ground and blasted the vamparat again, aiming for the head. It found its mark, and the creature was knocked off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall with bone-shattering force. Dunakinn stumbled, dazed, and without hesitation Ruiz unleashed a torrent of fire at him. He didn't let up as he shrieked in agony. Finally, the screams stopped, and Ruiz dropped his arm. The only thing left of the beast was a blackened corpse and the pungent smell of burnt flesh and fur. "Well," he said aloud. "That wasn't so bad." He chuckled, in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. His hunch had been correct, and he'd taken care of the problem in just a few hours. Tomorrow, he would go the townhall and explain to the villagers that the threat was over. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned and walked outside into the now-pouring rain. <style> img { max-width: 70%; max-height: 70%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Survival%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Continue|EndA]]

Ruiz rolled out of the way in the nick of time and quickly clambored to his feet. Without looking back, he cast a burst of flame at Dunakinn as he ran through the doorway. It was now pouring rain. *Oh shit* he thought. His magic would no longer work in the— The vamparat tackled him again just as Ruiz whirled around to face him. The claws slashed across his stomach, and blood blossomed out in a rush. Gasping, Ruiz fell to his knees in shock. He barely felt a thing as the killing blow came. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Start Over?|Home Page]]

Five minutes later, he slipped into bed and closed his eyes. Ruiz awoke abruptly in the night. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He looked around the room dazedly, confused as to reason he had woken up. Sure, the fire was just embers now, but the howling wind had died down significantly, and the mattress was hardly uncomfortable. What was the problem? And then he heard Marlou neigh in fear. Ruiz bolted out of bed, rushed to the window, and peered out. At first, Ruiz saw nothing. But as he continued to look, he felt a sensation—the sensation of being watched. Something was standing out there, just beyond his field of view. He was certain of it. A voice suddenly filled his mind. *Ruiz. Ruuuuiz,* it called. Ruiz felt his hands shake, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest at the sound from nowhere. *Come and stop me, Ruiz,* the presence taunted. *If you can.* And in that moment, Ruiz’s dread turned to anger. How dare this, this...thing mock him! After everything he had done to get here? Mr. Dunakinn—or whoever the beast was—would pay dearly. He tried to ignore the fact that beastials didn't have telepathy. He pulled on his duster and ran flat out through the door, down the stairs, and into the cold night. He caught sight of something dash down the street, and he hurriedly sprinted after it without a second thought. As Ruiz passed the stables, he quickly glanced inside to check on Marlou. Thankfully, the horse appeared uninjured, and he continued the pursuit. As he ran along the dark street, he somehow felt rather than saw himself gaining on the creature. Ruiz smirked in satisfaction. *Good. Nowhere for you to go now.* Any trace of fear within him had vanished. Until he felt it head in the direction of the lighthouse. Ruiz skidded to a halt, instantly suspicious. Was this how the mayor died? Had the beastial really lured him to the lighthouse in the middle of the night after all? And if so, could Ruiz still best it in combat if he followed it anyway? He gritted his teeth in frustration. He watched the entrance as the door swung open and shut, light momentarily spilling out in the dark. >> *This is exactly what he wants. I'm not going to play this game.* [[(Go back inside)|ND Bed3]] >> *No! I don’t have a choice. I have to go after it. This madness has to end now before anyone else gets hurt. I just need to be careful.* [[(Follow it)|PA2h]]

Ruiz knew chasing after it would almost certainly end in disaster. The monster was obviously leading him into a trap, and besides: his magic would be useless in the rain. With a sigh of frustration, he turned back to the inn. It was still pouring when he woke up the next morning. The rain and wind lashed at the window, and the entire inn creaked. If he hadn't been so exhausted already, he suspected he wouldn't have gotten much sleep at all. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was broken. "There's a shock," he muttered. He dressed, washed his face in the dirty sink, and walked downstairs into the tavern. It was completely empty. *The townsfolk better be waiting for me in the town hall.* >> [[Go to town hall|ND THb]]

As he approached the building, the night's events stewed in his mind. How had the beast contacted him like that to begin with? Beastials didn't possess any magic at all, let alone telepathic abilities. And though there were plenty of other intelligent monsters in the world besides beastials, he'd definitely never heard of them having such skills either. *What am I to make of all this?* The same old man was standing next to the double doors under an awning, this time smoking a pipe. "Ah, there you are. Was wond'ring when you'd show your face," he said upon catching sight of Ruiz. Ruiz grunted. "Is everyone here?" "Just 'bout. Everyone *left*, that is," he replied, coughing. "Excellent. Lets get a move on, then." The townsfolk were scattered haphazardly around the main hall, talking in hushed voices amongst themselves. They were not exactly an impressive lot. Out of the 30-or-so men and women, about half were middle-aged or older, with weathered features and distinctly joyless expressions. The rest were young adults; there were no children in sight. Which, Ruiz decided, was probably a good thing. This was no place to raise a kid. Everyone immediately stopped whispering as soon as Ruiz and the old man entered the room. With the exception of the innkeep, they did not look particularly happy to see him, he noted with annoyance. >> [[Address the townpeople|ND THc]]

The Roujin (*rue-jean*) Regency is one of the wealthiest and most influential nations in the world. They have a powerful navy and a large, professional, and elite military force. Although the empire was not the first to industrialize by a long shot, it nevertheless quickly became a industrial powerhouse due to a series of economic and institutional reforms known as the "Imperial Forgeworks." Additionally, it has extensive deposits of Solanium (also referred to as goldstone or sparkrock), a combustable gold-like rock which can provide energy when properly utilized. However, as the name Roujin *Regency* suggests, the country is not actually a real monarchy. The last emperor, Taalgish, died over a century ago without an heir to take his place, and the Imperial Assembly has essentially squabbled over the issue ever since. Instead, the country is currently ruled by the three Lord Inquisitors, who in turn are selected by the 30 most prestigious noble families in Roujin every six years. The Assembly still possesses a great deal of power, though, and frequently clash with the Inquisitors. Therefore, their relationship can best be described as an "uneasy alliance." Yet, all agree that the return of an emperor or empress would lead the nation to true greatness. To make up for such political instablity, the Roujin Regency is often at war. It is a large colonialist and imperialist state. Moreover, it did not originally own the Ranger Order, but "acquired" it from the previous owners, Greater Kestull, in the Roujin Reconquest War (2076-2079 [[AtF]]). Thus, the Order is now known as the Roujin Rangers. While humans make up the majority of the population, elves and half-elves are a common sight as well. As the state is far away from any beastial nations, they do not pose much of a threat, at least externally. Internally, of course, plenty of beastials live in hiding, but there is no way to determine the exact number. <style> img { max-width: 70%; max-height: 70%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/RoujinFlag.png> </div> >> [[Back|Background Lore]]

AtF=After the Founding. This refers to the founding of the first city following the collapse of the legendary and highly-advanced "Silver Imperium" and the resulting centuries-long Chaos Age. The Imperium's demise is long rumored to have been caused by the sudden appearance of the beastials. Most human and elven nations use this date, but many other conventions exist. Unsurprisingly, no beastial state would be caught dead using such a dating system. The current year is 2105 AtF. >> [[Back|Roujin]]

The Kagan Commonwealth is a powerful nation from the Alnicia Islands. It is commonly acknowledged as the direct competitor to the Roujin Regency. Indeed, its navy is even more massive than Roujin's; however, this is balanced out by Kagan's relatively weak standing army. Kagan was the first human nation to begin industrialization, owing to its abundant Solanium resources. The government is composed of a three-house parliament: the House of Nobles, House of the People, and the House of Justice. Elections are held every five years to vote in new members of the House of the People, while the nine members of the House of Justice are then chosen by the other houses if someone dies (it's a life-long position). The House of Nobles, meanwhile, is composed of the 50 most influential nobles across Kagan. Its membership constantly shifts as they vie for power and wealth. In turn, these nobles vote for a representative, the Architect, every 10 years, while the House of the People vote for their own representative, the Speaker, as soon as the election results are tallied. Humans make up approximately 90% of the country, with elves making up the rest. The beastial population is unknown, but is believed to be fairly small compared to others. The Commonwealth has remained a rather peaceful country of most of its existence, after officially unifying Alnicia in 1897 AtF, but in recent times has become increasingly aggressive and authoritarian like its primary rival. For perhaps the first time, Kagan's future is uncertain. <style> img { max-width: 70%; max-height: 70%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Kagan%20Commonwealth%20Flag.png> </div> >> [[Back|Path A]]

Old Salt's Throw is located in the Kingdom of Novené. Novené is a small, mountainous, and rural country, with comparatively little industry. It is best known for three things: as the southern frontier of human civilization, its incredibly cold winters, and the home of the Infinity Abyss—an utterly massive and widely unexplored cavern deep underneath an ancient "Silver Imperium" ruin. Rumors say that the beastials that live in the abyss have endured the dark for so long that they are no longer capable of transforming back into humans or elves. Other tales speak of horrific abominations found nowhere else on Calinor and an evil entity composed of the very essence of the darkness itself, constantly on the hunt for soul-lights to devour. Needless to say, the legend of the Infinity Abyss frequently overshadows the Kingdom of Novené and its people. The vast majority are farmers. Notably, the country is home to a large population of elves and half-elves (also known as Attuners, for the unique form of magic only half-elves can wield). This occured as the result of the Meyterin Exodus (1735-1749 AtF), as thousands of elves fled from religious persecution in their traditional homelands. <style> img { max-width: 70%; max-height: 70%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Novene%20Flag.png> </div> >> [[Back|Path A]]

The next morning, Ruiz rode away from Old Salt's Throw, vanishing into the mists of the Bitter Moor. He didn't notice the creature watching him from the shadows of the lighthouse. Even in daylight, its blood-red eyes gleamed, full of malicious amusement. It was *so* very eager to continue the hunt, away from prying eyes... >> [[Start Over?|Home Page]]

Ruiz turned around instantly, preparing to fight. "Who's there?" he shouted into the uneven darkness. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then— "Who are you?" a raspy male voice said angrily. "What are you doing in my *house*?" Ruiz narrowed his eyes. "I'm a ranger, and I have reason to believe that you're a—" "Liar," the voice said, cutting him off. "If you're a ranger as you say, why aren't you wearing the uniform? They always have them." As he said this, the beastial—Mr. Dunakinn—walked into view. He was unmistakingly a [[vamparat|Vamparat2]]. He snarled at Ruiz, yellow eyes glaring viciously. >> [[Attack|Attack1]] >> [[Try a diplomatic approach|AGold11]]

Without looking back, he cast a burst of flame into the middle of the house and ran as fast as he could into the night. It was now pouring rain. *Oh shit* he thought. His magic would no longer work in the— The thing tackled him in the same moment Ruiz whirled around to face him. He had just enough time to realize it was a vamparat before its claws slashed across his stomach. Blood blossomed out in a rush. Gasping, Ruiz fell to his knees in surprise and pain. He barely felt a thing as the killing blow came. <style> img { max-width: 50%; max-height: 50%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Death%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Start Over?|Home Page]]

*That's all the evidence I need* Ruiz thought with grim determination. Without hesitation, he blasted the vamparat, aiming for the head. His aim was true, and the creature was knocked off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall with bone-shattering force. Dunakinn stumbled, dazed, and Ruiz unleashed a torrent of fire at him. He didn't let up as he shrieked in agony. Finally, the screams stopped, and Ruiz dropped his arm. The only thing left of the beast was a blackened corpse and the pungent smell of burnt flesh and fur. "Well," he said aloud. "That wasn't so bad." He chuckled, in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. His hunch had been correct, and he'd taken care of the problem in just a few hours. Tomorrow, he would go the townhall and explain to the villagers that the threat was over. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned and walked outside into the now-pouring rain. <style> img { max-width: 70%; max-height: 70%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Survival%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Continue|EndA]]

Against his better judgment, Ruiz decided that a diplomatic approach might be better than simply attacking Dunakinn. "Alright, alright. I'm not a ranger. But I was. At one point," he said. Dunakinn stared at him for a moment, evidently caught off guard by his casual display of honesty. Or perhaps he was merely deciding whether to believe him or not. Finally, he growled, "So what are you doing here?" Ruiz snorted. "Are you serious? A dozen people have been killed or gone missing, and the attacks only started after you moved here! I know you're behind it." Dunakinn barked out a harsh laugh. "Of course. Of course you do. You rangers are all the same: I'm a 'beastial,' so obviously I must be a mass-murdering lunatic. Well, guess what? It ain't me this time! I'm reformed!" "You're...what?" Ruiz said, suddenly baffled. >> [[Contine the conversation|AGold12]]

Without hesitation, he blasted the vamparat, aiming for the head. His aim was true, and the creature was knocked off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall with bone-shattering force. Dunakinn stumbled, dazed, and Ruiz unleashed a torrent of fire at him. He didn't let up as he shrieked in agony. Finally, the screams stopped, and Ruiz dropped his arm. The only thing left of the beast was a blackened corpse and the pungent smell of burnt flesh and fur. "Well," he said aloud. "That wasn't so bad." He chuckled, in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. His hunch had been correct, and he'd taken care of the problem in just a few hours. Tomorrow, he would go the townhall and explain to the villagers that the threat was over. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned and walked outside into the now-pouring rain. <style> img { max-width: 70%; max-height: 70%; } </style> <img src=https://alienaura.neocities.org/Survival%20Text.png> </div> >> [[Continue|EndA]]

"Reformed," he repeated slowly, as if talking to a particularly dim-witted child. "I don't kill anything for blood. In fact, I don't even *drink* blood anymore. I've weaned myself off the stuff for good." It was Ruiz's turn to stare. It sounded completely ridiculous. Yet, the truth was, he also wasn't entirely confident one way or the other. Finally, he asked, "If that's true, how come you aren't in your elf form right now?" Dunakinn eyed him suspiciously, but when Ruiz made no move to attack, he quickly transformed back into an elf. The innkeep had been right: he was decently handsome. Though, to be fair, that was true for most elves anyway. Dunakinn walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Ruiz followed him and, noticing the unlit candles on the table, promptly lit them. He did not, however, sit down. "How is that possible?" Ruiz wanted to know. "It's a long story and I don't want to get into it right now. 'Specially not with a former ranger." The last word came out in a sneer. "Suffice to say, I learned how to control my, er, urges. I came out here to live a peaceful existence by the sea, away from fools and arseholes like you." Ruiz mulled the information over. "Fine. Lets say I believe you. *For now.* You have any idea who's causing these deaths?" >> [[Continue the conversation|AGold13]]

He expected Dunakinn to say that he had no idea what was going on. To his surprise, he smirked instead. "Not who. *What.* That's the important question," he said, still smiling. "What the Nel are you talking about?" Ruiz demanded. "Whatever it is, it's not a beastial, or any other creature you'd find around here. Banshees or sirens or whatnot. No. This is something new." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "A creature from the [[Infinity Abyss|Abyss]]." "The Abyss? Impossible! How could you possibly know that?" Ruiz said. "Well, obviously I don't know for certain," he replied, annoyed. "But trust me when I say, you've never faced anything quite like this. Neither have I, for that matter. I saw it only once, and that was enough to chill me to the bone. And I'm too weak to face it down, even *if* I wasn't terrified out of my wits." Dunakinn eyed Ruiz with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Though perhaps you can." Ruiz shook his head; not because he disagreed with the assessment, but because there had to be other mages in the village already. Right? "Wrong. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. The creature killed all of the mages. The mayor was the last of 'em, a glasser no less! Didn't save him, though, huh?" *Mr. Dunakinn seems awfully nonchalant about these deaths* Ruiz thought warily. Nevertheless, his gut told him that he was telling the truth. >> [[Return to the inn|AGold14]]

The Infinity Abyss is an utterly massive and widely unexplored cavern deep underneath an ancient "Silver Imperium" ruin. Rumors say that the beastials that live in the Abyss have endured the dark for so long that they are no longer capable of transforming back into humans or elves. Other stories speak of horrific abominations found nowhere else on Calinor and an evil entity composed of the very essence of the darkness itself, constantly on the prowl for soul-lights to devour. The further one ventures into the caves, the weaker light becomes, until not even flamewrights can cast a single spark of flame. Several expeditions have been sent to map the Abyss since its discovery in 1652 AtF. Not a single person has ever returned. However, strangely enough, smaller groups and individuals seem to have more luck, returning to the surface with wild tales of civilizations twice as old as the Imperium, chasms that spiral all the way down to the core of the planet, and terrifying visions of past and future events—as well as glimpses of other worlds entirely. The veracity of such claims will likely never be determined. Both Old Salt's Throw and the Infinity Abyss are located in the Kingdom of Novené. >> [[Back|AGold13]]

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He expected Dunakinn to say that he had no idea what was going on. To his surprise, he smirked instead. "Not who. *What.* That's the important question," he said, still smiling. "What the Nel are you talking about?" Ruiz demanded. "Whatever it is, it's not a beastial, or any other creature you'd find around here. Banshees or sirens or whatnot. No. This is something new." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "A creature from the [[Infinity Abyss|Abyss2]]." "The Abyss? Impossible! How could you possibly know that?" Ruiz said. "Well, obviously I don't know for certain," he replied, annoyed. "But trust me when I say, you've never faced anything quite like this. Neither have I, for that matter. I saw it only once, and that was enough to chill me to the bone. And I'm too weak to face it down, even *if* I wasn't terrified out of my wits." Dunakinn eyed Ruiz with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Though perhaps you can." Ruiz shook his head; not because he disagreed with the assessment, but because there had to be other mages in the village already. Right? "Wrong. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. The creature killed all of the mages. The mayor was the last of 'em, a glasser no less! Didn't save him, though, huh?" *Mr. Dunakinn seems awfully nonchalant about these deaths* Ruiz thought warily. Nevertheless, his gut told him that he was telling the truth. >> [[Return to the inn|404Diplo4]]