Lunar Interlude 2

[balancemod]

Let's try to keep the paperwork to a minimum, shall we? NAVIGATION 1. NEW RECLAIMERS A. WELCOME WELCOME! FAH WHO RAHMUS For the nine of you who will be arriving today, the story is the same: though you may not remember it, there was a moment where you were living out your life, at home or wherever you were ... and then there was the moment the Hunger came. And amid the television static that is your memory of that moment, a hand reached out to you, beckoning your escape as the tendrils of darkness destroyed everything that ever existed about your world. "Would you hurry this up, please? Your world no longer stands a chance. Come with me, we are the last bastions of hope for all universes everywhere. And we're going to need you." And then, unceremoniously, you are dragged through the universal wringer and plopped down on the soft, though not quite cushioned, grass of the Moon Base Quad. There are other people out in the grassy fields — they may even be people you recognize. They may just be strangers, other Reclaimers, who recognize what you're about to endure. The things they say may be interspersed with static — as if the words themselves aren't reaching your ears correctly. And you have a few minutes to chat before you're calmly led away by Bureau administration, to do something about that pesky static problem. B. THE VOIDFISH The nine of you are quickly divided into two groups, and brought to the easternmost geodesic dome, to an elevator in a well maintained, but sparsely landscaped field. There's nothing particularly ominous feeling about the space — in fact, the two guards who greet you at the elevator entrance seem pleased with your arrival. You are, after all, one of the few chosen by the Director, the few who will reclaim what the Hunger has destroyed. And in a few moments, you're about to find that out for yourself. After a tightly packed elevator ride, your group is ushered out to a rather grand looking hall, banners of the Bureau of Balance adorn both sides of smooth metal walls. And inside the Voidfish's chamber stands a tank — impossibly tall, and soaked in a black ink that obscures whatever the tank may be holding. You may notice the sound of someone speaking. It's a bard, on his second round of introducing Reclaimers to the Voidfish, and this time, he has chosen to demonstrate the functions of the outrageously vertical tank not by playing violin music, but by reciting a piece of classical, and highly valued poetry. When he finishes, he pulls at a drawer just at the metallic base of the tank. He solemnly enters a few scrolls into its basin as the tank begins to light up, like lightning behind dark clouds. And suddenly, you forget what that invaluable example of universal literature sounded like. "Yeah, man, like... don't think too hard about it, it's like that every time. I'm guessing you're here to be inoculated? Just a heads up, you might want to, like, seriously, hold your nose while you drink it down. It tastes wicked gross, man. Anyway, I'm supposed to tell you that you have a choice. If you drink the black stuff, you'll be able to hear through the, uh... Huh, how do I describe it? Through the [TSHCSCHTSHCHSC] sound. You guys like, hear that? Anyway, it's all about knowledge or something. I don't know, I'm just here to, like, feed the thing. We call it the [TSCHHSCHSCH], by the way. So, like. You get a choice. You can drink it and understand stuff, or not drink it and then hear that crackling noise all day every day. If I were you, I'd drink it. But, hey man, I'm not like, your dad or anything." The bard takes five cups and draws liquid from a spigot connected directly to the basin of the large tank. Stormy, muddy looking ichor is drawn into them, one by one. He offers each of you a sip. Drink it (he wasn't kidding about what it tasted like), and you're inoculated to the wisdom of the Voidfish. You try to remember the poetry this bard recited a few moments ago and the rhymes, the meter, the significance, all come back to you. And if you think back to your arrival, some of the things you may have heard other people in the Quad say, that simply sounded like static, are suddenly clear. Bureau of Balance. Grand Relic. Reclaimers. Yet you still can't remember the Hunger or what it had done to your world. And as you look back to the tank in front of you, the water has become clear. There's a jellyfish, as tall as a building, floating within. You look into the body of the creature and you can almost make out a beautiful, tiny universe floating within it. 2. THE TEST OF INITIATION With your new knowledge on the Bureau of Balance and your purpose here in tow, you are led without hesitation to the Arena, where the final phase of your initiation into the Bureau will be held. You are partnered up, whether it is with someone you drank the ichor of the Voidfish with, or perhaps even a veteran Reclaimer, who either stopped by to help, or simply out of curiosity. One Grand Relic has already been reclaimed, you're told. They were a pair of bright red mittens, held by the mayor of a small village who may have meant well, but under the draw of the mittens' incredible space-bending powers, was corrupted into using them, and to nearly killing everyone who lived under him. You may have noticed, at some point while glancing out into space while walking here, to the planet below, a massive evergreen fir that stretches past the planet's atmosphere, very nearly piercing the Moon Base itself. It appears to be decorated for the holidays. That tree is the direct result of those mittens, the actions of a man who could not resist the temptation to use them. Resisting that very same temptation is your task here. And with that order in mind, as you and your partner stand in the middle of the Arena, the walls dissolve, and the simulation begins. You're standing in the middle of a forest. Ahead of you, situated on a pedestal, is an item. It could be any ordinary item: a pair of gloves, a teapot, a simple decorative bowl. Whatever it is, it's yours for the taking. Take that simple item in your hands, however, and the building blocks of the trees around you suddenly collapse like shattered glass, and reform into new scenery — it may even be a place from home that you recognize. A voice in your head beckons you. Perhaps there's a mistake you made, or something that went wrong for you back home that you wish you had the power to undo. Perhaps there's someone you wish you could help, or even save. The item that's in your hands has the power to help you achieve this, if only you'd ever use it. Resist the temptation. Take the item, and drop it into a nearby deposit box to be destroyed. Your partner is here to help you — because once you destroy it, you will be doing the same for them. 3. NEWBIES AND VETERANS, AROUND THE MOONBASE Three or four days into the month, now that the newbies are settled in, something strange happens: The next time you return to your flat from whatever errand or exploring you were doing, when attempting to use your Bracer to open the door results in extremely obnoxious beeping that persists for an entire thirty seconds, and a message on the screen next to the door. ERROR: HOME ASSIGNMENT MECHANISM MALFUNCTION. GO TAKE A WALK. Welp. Looks like you're locked out for a bit while techs fix that. Here's a few places that might be worth checking out. A. PIECES FROM HOME Should you find your way to the Dojo, there's a door that still has that shiny, brand spanking new door look and new door smell to it off in one of the less traversed corners of the building. A sign next to the door demands that you empty your pockets before entering. A scanner for your Bracer will unlock it, assuming it's unoccupied, leading you to a plain white room with no furniture or objects at all in sight. As the door shuts behind you, a pleasant female voice echoes from all corners of the room, greeting you by name. If this is your first time in the room, the voice has a simple question for you: "What memory do you value, or think of, most?" Once you've provided your answer, the walls crumble, much like they did during the Test of Initiation simulation, reforming into something that is, again, pleasantly, or even unpleasantly, familiar. It's a space from home. Perhaps it's your room. Perhaps it's your favorite restaurant (though, the place is curiously empty, and the food you find, for some reason, tastes like strawberries). Perhaps it's a park you always enjoyed visiting, or a corner of the city you lived in. Whatever it is, you, and whoever you may have brought along with you, seem to be the only ones there. And perhaps the details aren't quite right — like maybe someone built a model of your home to explore, but a few pieces were missing from the box. But it's close enough. B. SPEND YOUR DOUGH. SOLVE A MYSTERY Whether you're a newcomer or a veteran returning from your first Field Mission, you've been provided with some spending money. You can use it to buy yourself one weapon and piece of armor from one of the blacksmiths in town. Regardless of who you choose to help you out with that, it'll take about a week to complete your order, so time your purchase carefully. There's also premade weapons and a whole bunch of other bullshit for sale at FANTASY COSTCO. Shelves and pallets of an endless array of nonmagical items, pretty much anything you can imagine, can be bought here, but there's one particular, innocuous item that seems to have Garfield the Deals Warlock in a tizzy. The more those vinyl covers that can be used to decorate your Bracers are purchased, the more the name seems to spread, ghosts of whispers around the entire Moon Base, of a person who may very well be a ghost herself. Who is Miss Zarves? Who was Miss Zarves? A powerful witch with the power to scramble your memories, insists one cantankerous woman who pours you a drink at Madame Frione's Tea Kettle. A heavyset, flushed with drink sort of man sitting next to you disagrees — Miss Zarves is a practical joke Garfield likes to trot out every couple of months to mess around with anybody gullible enough to believe him. Whatever the case, it seems that the name alone gives everyone a curious case of déjà vu. Someone has to have information on her — and this is the Reclaimers' opportunity to hone their information gathering skills. C. A (PERHAPS MANDATORY) DAY AT STOP DYING 101 Whether you're in class voluntarily, or whether you were dragged there on account of dying the past Field Mission, today's session of Fatalistic Fauna, and Danger Sense to channel your inner barbarian is going on a little field trip to the Arena. Because this is your first test to see if you can put all that information that's been given to you in the first few lectures to good use. You and a partner are placed in the middle of the Arena, in a simulation of an expansive, empty field, up against the first monster you were introduced to in class: A Bulette, a fearsome beast that can burrow, lunge, deal severe piercing damage, and jump an absolutely incredible distance. And you and your Reclaimer partner are absolutely no match for it. Your only option here is to escape. Can you? If you are dealt simulated fatal damage, then the Arena will dissolve back to normal, and you'll be given extra homework and reading material for the day. Sorry, them's the breaks. D. OPEN THE DOOR, GET ON THE FLOOR, EVERYBODY DO THE DINOSAUR There's a signup available for those looking to take Dance lessons at the Academy. There seem to be enough slots available for 50 or so people, and the form's name simply reads: "DANCE, NOW. WITH MS. CHARLOTTE." It's a pretty large time commitment- a crash course in dancing is a rather intensive affair. You'll be spending 4 days a week for 2 weeks, 2-3 hours per day, learning all the basics of the waltz, the tango, and the quickstep. Don't even think about trying the cha-cha slide here, it's simply not pasodoable. At the studio, you can borrow a pair of ballet slippers and join in with Ms. Charlotte, which, for anyone coming to the class for the first time should be rightly horrified. The newest member of the Bureau of Balance is a spider. A delegate from New New Aspen, Ms. Charlotte comes equipped with a bracer of her own, has taken in the Voidfish juice, and relocated here, to teach at the Academy. She moonlights as a ballroom dance instructor and a coach, and boy... she's pretty demanding with her approach, but incredibly thorough. You don't want to let Ms. Charlotte down. The sessions she teaches will get you to learn the basics. Natural aptitude, of course, goes a long way, but she's very 8-hands on with her approach at correcting posture and steps. Not without compassion, however, if you manage to get blisters on your feet, Ms. Charlotte's web bandages will set and help heal those sore, tired feet. The next 2 weeks of this boot camp are going to be brutal. E. THE MOON IS YOUR SPACE OYSTER (WILDCARD) There are plenty of other locations around the Moon Base that you can explore at your own discretion. Feel free to refer to the Settings page for more ideas on what shenanigans you can get into. Additionally, we'll be fielding Bender rolls again this month! With the exception of the three items that have been removed from his recipe database, if a food item was destroyed in a failed roll previously, you may roll to try to fix it. Bear in mind, of course, that you may make it worse. Successful food rolls will stay in place at this time. 4. THE DIRECTOR ACTS; A GRAND RELIC DESTROYED Erika has obtained and delivered the Space Mittens to Madame Director herself. She struggles to remain calm and composed at the moment, but the amount of immense pride and relief at recovering the Grand Relic slips through an otherwise sturdy exterior of coolness and level-headed features. She congratulates the entirety of the Bureau of Balance for their hard work, and relates to Erika that she couldn't be happier that she had made this world one step closer to being safe. A message will appear across all bracers, everywhere, with the following: Reclaimers, welcome home and congratulations on a successful first mission. Although there were certain drawbacks and difficult decisions that had to be made, I believe, without a doubt, that you all have irrefutably surpassed all expectations. Congratulations on a job well done. However, next time, please do be more careful out there. For those of you who wish to watch, my office will remain open until 1600 hours today. The relic will be destroyed, and if you would like to attend to see how it's done, please stop by. There will be light refreshments and coffee served, of course. If unable to attend, you can watch the ceremony later on your bracers. Don't forget to click Like and Subscribe. At the appointed hour, a ceremony will occur. She calls forth Davenport to wheel out the structure that's been created and designed with the sole purpose of destroying these things. She dare not takes the relic herself, no, refusing to touch the item at all. It's a medium sized metallic sphere, and once opened and closed, can never be opened again. Pulling back the curtain to an observatory, the Reclaimers can watch as Davenport sports a nifty pair of goggles, and wheels the orb onto a raised platform. He waits for the Director's signal, which is performed by an agreeable stamp of her oaken staff against the floor, and a nod. Davenport hits the KILL SWITCH, and the light show from behind the glass is amazing and terrifying all at the same time. You watch as the Space Mittens are obliterated from existence. An eruption of cheering breaks out. This concludes the first successful mission, and a deeply needed win, for the Bureau of Balance. blurb code by photosynthesis

Comments

[knightscode]

A test!

Lancelot turns and widens his eyes at Faolan in faux-surprise.

"A test!" he echoes. "I thought perhaps they were just offering me a drink."

Thank you, Faolan, he knows it is a test.

Still, he lowers his hands -- and then Lancelot circles the pedestal slowly to examine it. For clues, or inspiration perhaps. Something to guide his decision.

"Do you think it a trap? I admit, it may well be, but if we are to destroy this... relic, by placing it in this secured box, then we must move it somehow. Do you think I should cover my hands?"

In case touching it is somehow dangerous?

[reticence]

Faolan gives Lancelot another look at his sarcastic response. Yes, he thinks it may well be a trap, that is why he was cautioning you in the first place, man.

"I think," Faolan replies, as levelly as he can, "that this is about more than simply picking something up and putting it in a box. How that will manifest is another matter entirely. And it will probably do so regardless as to how you handle the damned thing, for that matter," he adds, pointedly.

He tilts his head at Lancelot -- he had said that was his name, had he not? -- and motions to the object itself.

"Does it mean anything to you?" he asks. It hardly seems a temptation, unless yes of course it should be filled with a drink of some sort. But Faolan would be hard-pressed to taste another offering from these people, so soon after that strange ichor he'd only just choked down before this.

[knightscode]

Does it mean anything? Not especially. It is simply a goblet, and the pedestal is quite plain.

"If I had some manner of magic," Lancelot says, "I suppose I might move it without touching it. I fear we may have to do this in a less fanciful manner."

Drawing his sword slowly Lancelot flips it in his hand, carefully pokes at the goblet with the hilt of his blade.

Nothing appears to happen.

Tilting his head curiously he turns his sword again to grip it properly and, after a last moment of hesitation, reaches out to touch the cup.

The change is immediate.

His fingers brush the goblet and the surroundings begin to change. The sky clouds over, the forest begins to collapse into shadowy ruin and the pedestal stretch out into something more like an altar. The goblet in Lancelot's hand begins to take on a golden sheen. He falters, drawing back from it, and frowns at the surroundings.

Ah.

Yes.

A powerful temptation, with the ability to corrupt. It makes sense now.

This is the Isle of the Blessed, and this cup...

Now it makes sense.

[reticence]

Faolan stiffens as the world shifts around him, forest suddenly dissolving into what appears to be some place of ceremony, the large stones positioned as they are around the altar next to which they are standing.

Alarmed, Faolan glances back to Lancelot, who at least does not seem too worried by this turn of events. He would hope that if there were something dangerous about to leap at them out of the mists, Lancelot would at least do him the courtesy of warning of such things ahead of time.

The fact that the goblet seems to have transformed itself is unsettling as well. He had said he did not recognize the thing, but surely there is something that is significant about the thing, in order for it to merit such a place in this test.

"What -- in the name of all the gods..." Faolan murmurs aloud, shifting his hold on the dagger as he steps warily closer to the other man, just in case.

[knightscode]

"The old gods, specifically."

Lancelot turns, hesitant, from the altar and flicks Faolan a weak smile.

"This is where I was meant to die, The Isle of the Blessed. It's a good test, I suppose!"

Or at least, it should be. The trouble is, Lancelot isn't quite sure what is real here and what isn't. The test is if he can reject an offer, but what would be the point in accepting if it is only a test? Surely, if this is not real, then this object has no power? Would a real relic hold it? Could anything hold such power? Did they not claim his world was dying? Presumably he had been too slow to offer himself to the Gatekeeper, and yet --

He tilts his head, frowns down at the golden cup again.

"It is an odd thing. I used to wonder if I could knowingly give up my life for something, just trade it away. Yet now that I have lost the chance a part of me feels empty."

[reticence]

Where I was meant to die.

Faolan feels a faint shiver down his spine at the words, though he keeps any outward reaction to them at bay. He knows well enough about the Old Gods, or at least about Bridei's Old Gods, having spent time in the king's druidic household. The idea of this being a place touched by such beings leaves him feeling uneasy, for though he does not believe in them himself, he can feel something there. Just because there may not be any gods present does not mean there is not magic afoot.

"You have not lost the chance to give up your life for a cause," Faolan points out. "You have lost the cause for which to give up your life. There is a difference. The difference is what has left you feeling the way you do. Though of course, if you had gotten your chance you would be feeling nothing at all."

[knightscode]

"Do you think?"

Lancelot studies Faolan a long moment, gaze unerringly steady as he thinks.

"I have no doubt these people here hope we would pledge to their cause. As confusing as it may be, perhaps they hope I may offer them the same commitment."

Yet that would, in truth, be difficult. Nothing can really be the same as Camelot was to him, nothing can be as important as Guinevere or her happiness. At least, nothing he can imagine. He turns his attention back to the goblet again, reaches to pick it up and examine it once more.

[reticence]

Faolan meets the other man's gaze unerringly himself as Lancelot speaks. It would be a fair assumption to think that they would probably want his loyalty. People generally do, no matter whether they have particularly earned such a thing or not.

"You do not owe it to them," he points out, matter-of-factly. He has no idea what circumstances have led the other man to this moment, whether he was indeed about to give his life up to this cause they speak of and the 'powers that be' instead had taken that decision out of his hands. All the same, Lancelot did not ask for that any more than Faolan did. He's certainly not about to reward them for his rescue himself.

"All the same, if you do not do as they ask and get rid of that," he nods to the goblet in Lancelot's hands. "My best guess is the end result would not be pleasant."

[knightscode]

It's true. He inclines his head a little in acceptance, gaze still on the goblet, then lifts it to Faolan once more.

"In truth, I do not know what good it would do me. If this place is not... real, is an illusion as they say, then what use will any of it be?"

He turns from the altar and scans the area until his eyes land on a stone that isn't quite a stone -- a deposit box, in fact. Something that stands out as not belonging in the scene. Crossing over to it Lancelot gives the goblet a last, cursory examining before carefully (if awkwardly) putting it in.

The scene resets instantly, leaving him standing in an empty space.

"Well," he says after a moment, "that wasn't so bad. Your turn, I think?"

[reticence]

Your turn, Lancelot says. And Faolan rather dreads the words. He does his best not to let his alarm show on his face as the scene resets itself as Lancelot sets the goblet into the box and turns awkwardly to glance toward the altar once more.

There is no cup there anymore, no goblet for Faolan, though it would hardly mean anything to him if there was. There is however in its place laid out a dagger.

Faolan swallows thickly. He is not positive where this might take him. But he has a feeling he can guess. And he has a feeling that he does not want to know.

Instantly his palms begin to sweat and he clenches his hands into fists at his sides to keep them from shaking.

"A test," Faolan repeats. Not moving any closer to the dagger than he had already been standing before.

[knightscode]

Lancelot can see the change in Faolan immediately, but he can't quite discern what it means. He is nervous, to be sure, but why? What about the blade makes him feel this way? He must recognise it, perhaps? It cannot be that he is uncomfortable with blades as a whole, the man does not strike Lancelot as weak of constitution.

"A test," he echoes, trying for a calm sort of tone. "Nothing more. All you need to do is destroy it."

[reticence]

All you need to do is destroy it. He makes it sound so simple, phrasing it like that. But Faolan knows the second that he touches that knife, whatever magic that exists on this place will take hold of him, will look inside of him and drag out whatever it sees fit to prey upon, and he's not certain that he's ready for such a thing himself. Never mind to share it with a near stranger he has only just met. A man who no doubt will only try and help.

Faolan does not want the other man's help. Nor does he want his pity. Though he has a feeling he will get it nonetheless, if this test is to go in the direction he is assuming that it might.

Warily, he takes a step forward, and closes his hand around the knife in front of him. Instantly the forest around the pair of them dissolves away, taking the shape of the front gathering room of a family home. There is a hearth, burning warm and bright not a few feet away. Tapestries hanging about the walls merrily depicting musicians and animals in their turn. And on the rug before them there spreads a pool of blood. Dark and viscous and far too large to have come from anything but a mortal wound.

"No," Faolan says viciously, and turns away. Making to leave, to escape, to find any way out of this nightmare.

[knightscode]

The room is not one he recognises, but of course there's no reason it should be. This is Faolan's test now, not his. Lancelot can sense the tension in the air even as the other man reaches for the blade, and it only climbs now that he has it.

Lancelot takes in the room quickly, the blood, and knows that whatever this test is they need to get it over with quickly.

"Faolan," he prompts firmly, "if you want this to end you must destroy that blade. The sooner you do that the sooner this is over."

A fair enough appeal, surely? If this is as distressing as it seems for him then surely that is the best response: destroy the blade, make it end.

[reticence]

Faolan, a voice calls out to him. A voice separate from Lancelot's own, and Faolan grits his teeth in response to it. Faolan. Think of how it might have been, if Dubhan's life had been spared. We can give his life back, Faolan. We can fix

"No!!" Faolan yells again, and with a vicious twist of his wrist, turns and throws the blade in the direction that the voice had come from, where it lodges itself in the far wall blade-first. Everything about the throw speaking of the deadly proficiency with which he could wield the blade, if he really wanted to.

"Get out of my head! Get out!!"

[knightscode]

Throwing a knife seems something of an escalation.

Lancelot's eyes widen and he takes a step back, making sure he's got enough space between them should he need to defend himself.

"Faolan," Lancelot says more firmly, "there is nobody here but you and I. Whatever you are hearing, it is that item itself trying to trick you into using it. If you destroy it this will all be over."

Perhaps -- now that he has let go of it, if only for a second, his mind might be clearer? He wonders if moving to pick up the blade himself would be allowed. Could he dispose of it for the man, or must he do it himself?

[reticence]

Faolan turns from the other man, running his hands over his face, feeling ready to scream. He hates this, he hates that the other man is getting even so much as a glimpse at this part of him. He can't afford this, and no doubt he'll want to know why. Why he can't handle himself, why this is so hard, why he cannot just get rid of the dagger and be done with it.

A part of Faolan wonders why he cannot as well, for that matter. It's the part of him that yearns for what the voices are saying to be true, for there to be some hope in all of this, that is making this all the more difficult for him. He knows there is no hope, of course. They are just dragging up old ghosts to torment him with. But they have looked into his mind and chosen well, damn them. If ever there were a moment he wished he could undo, it would be this. If there were even the slightest chance of hope, he would take it.

"I do not want to be here," he says at last, his voice muffled from behind his hands. "They have no right to ask this of me."