*image 2.png *line_break *line_break [i][b]Your first year on the run changed you.[/b][/i] When you reached Los Angeles, [i]they[/i] were there within months, so you packed up again and headed for Washington. When you got to Washington, they were there within weeks. It is only in your fourth month on the run that you discover [i]Magikeeps[/i]. They are stores housing magically atoned ingredients, charms, books, and endless more items, and usually ran by Dwarves. [i]Magikeeps[/i] are only visible to those who have even the slightest traces of magic within them. So far, you've been eyeing the development of charms that claim to make you harder to track through the use of blood magic and aura manipulation but has yet to be tested for safe use. They are simply referred to as VisiCharms and you eagerly wait for their completion. Through and through, you can honestly admit that life on the run... *choice #forces me to make hard decisions. I'm doing things I'm not proud of, but I have to find a way to keep myself safe. That is the most important thing. *set Wit +5 But you tell yourself that it scarcely matters how you feel about your situation, despite what you have to do to survive; you try your best to get by any way you can. You find ways to survive on your own, at your age, and that is a big accomplishment by itself. Even if some things are harder to stomach than others. Though, little do you know that there is one day that will make you question everything. *goto childhood2 #is exciting. I'm on my own, living by my rules and my rules only. It is dangerous and unpredictable; a rush like no other. *set Allure +5 But you tell yourself that it scarcely matters how you feel about your situation, even if you did find solace in the rush of adrenaline. You try your best to get by any way you can...which is quite easy. You find yourself almost savoring the days when you see a hooded figure, the apparent adrenaline rush enough to override your fear. But deep down, you know you're tempting fate. Though, little do you know that there is one day that will make you question everything. *goto childhood2 #terrifies me. I never know what's around the corner. At any given moment I could be taken like Aunt Alice. I've grown paranoid and jumpy since then. *set Wit +5 *set Stress +5 But you tell yourself that it scarcely matters how you feel about your situation, or how terrified you are; you try to get by any way you can. Yes, there are some days you'd see shadows that weren't there, and hear voices that seemed to mock you in the dead of the night, but you are still here, still surviving one day at a time. You soon find ways to avoid the daily terrors, training your body to accept the fear instead of recoiling from it. Though, little do you know that there is one day that will make you question everything. *goto childhood2 *label childhood2 You're just a few months shy of your sixteenth birthday, and it's just a few months over a year since you left home. You're in a nondescript town bordering Ohio, coming out of a [i]Magikeep[/i] to check on a new stock of [i]Visicharms[/i], which have reached their final stage of development and are currently being tested. Whistling to yourself, you turn off the isolated block of stores. As soon as you make your way off the main road, you know something is wrong. The back of your neck prickles with sweat. Your heartbeat races. You try to veer back onto the desolate main street, within seconds they have you surrounded. Unlike your previous interactions with hunters, these ones don't waste time with subtlety. *page_break "${name} Angelis," a deep voice calls out. A boy with short cropped ginger hair approaches you, rising from his crouched position on the ground. His face is all harsh lines and cruel, empty black eyes. Your pulse quickens when you do a double take...his eyes...something is [i]off[/i] with them. All those who have hunted you before have had distinctly blank eyes, but this boy's...they're like black orbs of emptiness, and what lies in that emptiness is something unfathomable. The boy walks with the predatory swagger of a typical hunter, his limbs long and thin like someone had stretched him out. "Don't take another step." You tally the odds in your mind in a split second, as you always do. There are three girls and three boys, and only half of them have weapons. There are no openings within the circle of people that surrounded you, but the figure that's to your right seems to be favoring their left foot. You consider pushing past them, but then what? There's an abandoned factory building near your location, you remember with relief. You just have to outrun them. [i]That's a long shot,[/i] you think, considering how the hooded figures seem to move like lightning. [i]But it's worth a try.[/i] *page_break "Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass you are?" "The last few weeks have been a nightmare, just trying to track you down," the boy rants. "I honestly couldn't care less that you're the child of—" You don't let him finish. With a swift swipe of your arm, you slam your closed fist across his face. Not waiting to see if you had knocked him out or simply sent him stumbling, you push through the hunter with the slight limp, and shove him onto his weak left side, sending him tumbling into the girl beside him. Then you run. Your muscles pump, flex and stretch and your heartbeat take on an erratic pace. You can't look back in fear of seeing half a dozen hunters rushing after you. The factory looms in front of you, just a few...more...feet. You almost plow into the door. The hinges are weak and rusted, and the doorknob os barely there. You take a deep breath to steel yourself, take a few steps back, and slam your side into the door. The flimsy metal crashes to the floor, with you along with it. You get up quickly, though, running through the wide, empty space. You quickly come up with a, frankly, half-assed plan. You run toward the end of the room and jump as high as you possibly can. Your hands almost slip due to the sweat that had accumulated on them, but you manage to hang on long enough to pull your body over the metal pipe. From there, you make your way through several landings and hazardously placed pipes until you spot a small door that is no doubt the entrance to the roof. *page_break The hot suffocating air of Ohio summer hits your face when you emerge from the abandoned factory. With notable effort, you haul your body through the tiny opening, lift your legs onto the solid roof, and quietly close the door. You lean against the small vertical fan and let out a sigh, visibly exhausted. "The abandoned factory is a bit cliche, don't you think, $!{name}?" You spin around and plant your feet firmly on the ground. The boy with brown hair and black eyes stands across from you, a glint of steel in his hand. His eyes zero in on you, and a cruel sneer forms on his face. "Just give it up," he barks out. "Aren't you tired?" With a swift movement, your exhausted eyes are too slow to catch, he's running toward you. You know you have but a split second to act. *choice *selectable_if (Magician = "1") #I calm my racing thoughts and focus on a single, pulsing light that begins to illuminate behind my eyes. I feel the familiar, ancient power flowing through every single one of my veins and filling my heart with a strange warmth. The boy is still barreling toward you. In a second, you remember a simple shield spell you had drilled into your subconscious months ago. You wield a large portion of the ancient power, controlling it so that only a trickle of it pours out, and you mumbled the words over and over again until you felt a warm light encase you. "[i]Prostatévo...prostatévo...prostatévo...[/i]" you chant. The boy's knife doesn't break through your barrier. You are untouchable for now, but you don't waste time. You kick the dagger out of his hand in a swift movement and send a punch to his throat. He reels back, gasping for air. But the victory doesn't last. Soon, he's attacking you with kicks and punches that seem to have no end, each more swift and painful the last. Your barrier is fading too quickly! With each impact of his fists and feet, you can feel it weakening. But then, you feel [i]it[/i]. It is simply something inside you awakening. Coming to life within you. It isn't a separate part of you...it is you, ancient and powerful and unforgiving. Suddenly, you're blasting bursts of magic at the boy, each one landing soundly into his gut and sending him kneeling to the ground. You feel a heat on the back of your head, scorching your skin, your body screaming out in sheer agony. When you finally come to your senses, a bright light flashes before you, and you hold the boy's dagger in your hand, poised over his throat. He is beneath you, looking into your eyes with calm black ones. The expression on his face is almost...relief. You... *fake_choice #slash the sharp blade of the dagger across his throat in a quick, smooth movement. The blood spurts from his throat, spilling onto your clutched fist and pooling onto the pale skin of his ruined neck. The boy lets out a final, peaceful sigh, and you watch the life leave his now clear blue eyes, the black color seemingly disintegrating away. You get up, leaving the now blood-kissed dagger laying atop the hunter's still chest. You dry heave against the cold concrete that is now pressed against your burning face, your heartbeat alarmingly off tempo. You know it had to be done. It was you, or him, and you rightfully chose you...if you hadn't, who knew if you'd still be alive at this moment. But you realize that soon, the other hunters will come searching for you. Word would spread, of course, among whatever ranks they had. You know you need to leave the city, the state. You look back at the hunter's limp body and see the dagger glinting at you as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize. *goto daggerchoice You looked over at the burning sky...and you finally breathed. *set Moral -10 *set Essence +10 *set var2 true *goto daggerchoice #let the dagger fall to the ground with a clang. You untangle yourself from the boy and ease yourself off of his shaking body. You only catch a glimpse of his face, pale and clammy, as he dry heaves against one of the vertical fans. He leans against the same fan you leaned against, letting out the same sigh of relief you had just moments before the altercation. Then he looks at you with those cruel, black eyes. You expect to see gratitude, or maybe even begrudging respect. All you see is hate, and strangely...bitter disappointment. "You cannot be [i]${him}[/i]," he spits at you. "He must have made a mistake; You're too weak." With those hate laced words thrown at you, he walks toward the edge of the roof and...jumps. You pause, but never hear the sound of a body slamming against concrete. You take a deep breath, alarmed at how off beat your heartbeat is. You spared the hunter's life, knowing that he would never do the same for you...but the ramifications of your actions have yet to be known. You look back at the space where the hunter had been just seconds before, and see the dagger glinting at you as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize. He must have forgotten it. *goto daggerchoice *set Moral +10 *set Essence +10 *set var2 false *goto daggerchoice *selectable_if (Warrior = "1") #I slow down my rapid heartbeat and relax my breathing. I can feel a minuscule of the strength that the godly part of me thrives off. My muscles have a sudden sense of power pounding through them. The boy is still barreling toward you, but it is now that you run toward him, too, head on. You know that you need to eliminate the threat of him having the upper hand. A savage battle cry roars from your throat as you two clash. The sound of muscle on muscle, bone on bone, and flesh on flesh was like deafening thunder. You are aggressive, to say the least. Your fists meet his already bruised face, while his own elbow sends a shock through you as it connects with your nose with a sickening crunch. You almost pull back, but you steel your resolve and grab at his shoulders. With much of the remaining strength you have, you push him into one of the vertical fans. His body slams against the metal and a sound rings out that you swear can be heard halfway across the city. But then he's back at you, his dagger poised at your throat. You push him backward against himself, while his dagger inches closer and closer to your throat. You can't do anything but focus on pushing him back, focusing all your strength solely on that action. A sly smile forms on his thin lips. You see the blood lust in his eyes. And then, you feel [i]it[/i]. It is simply something inside you awakening. Coming to life. It isn't a separate part of you...it is you, ancient and powerful and unforgiving. Your strength comes back a hundredfold. The pain goes away, dissolving out of your body. Suddenly, you're sending powerful blows at his face, his chest, his abdomen, not an inch spared of your fury. You're delivering fatal kicks with a speed and agility that would have impressed even the most masterful fighters. You feel a heat on the back of your head, scorching your skin, your body screaming out in pure agony. When you finally come to your senses, a bright light flashes before you, and you hold the boy's dagger in your hand, poised over his throat. He is beneath you, looking into your eyes with calm black ones. The expression on his face is almost...relief. You... *fake_choice #slash the sharp blade of the dagger across his throat in a quick, smooth movement. The blood spurts from his throat, spilling onto your clutched fist and pooling onto the pale skin of his neck. The boy lets out a final, peaceful sigh, and you watch the life leave his now clear blue eyes, the black color seemingly disintegrating away. You get up, leaving the now blood-kissed dagger sticking out of the hunter's neck. You dry heave against the cold concrete that is now pressed against your burning face, your heartbeat alarmingly off beat. You know it had to be done. It was you, or him, and you rightfully chose you...if you hadn't, who knew if you'd still be alive at this moment. But you realize that soon, the other hunters will come searching for you. Word will spread, of course, among whatever ranks they have. You know you need to leave the city, the state. You look back at the hunter's limp body and see the dagger glinting at you, as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize. *goto daggerchoice *set Moral -10 *set Essence +10 *set var2 true *goto daggerchoice #let the dagger fall to the ground with a clang. You untangle yourself from the boy and ease yourself off of his shaking body. You only catch a glimpse of his face, pale and clammy, as he dry heaves against one of the vertical fans. He leans against the same fan you leaned against, letting out the same sigh of relief you had just moments before the altercation. Then he looks at you with those cruel, black eyes. You expect to see gratitude, or maybe even begrudging respect. All you see is hate, and strangely...bitter disappointment. "You cannot be [i]${him}[/i]," he spits at you. "He must have made a mistake; you're too weak." With those hate laced words thrown at you, he walks toward the edge of the roof and...jumps. You pause, but never hear the sound of a body slamming against concrete. You take a deep breath, alarmed at how off tempo your heartbeat is. You spared the hunter's life, knowing that he would never do the same for you...the ramifications of your actions have yet to be known. You look back at the space where the hunter had been just seconds before, and see the dagger glinting at you as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize. He must have forgotten it. *set Moral +10 *set Essence +10 *set var2 false *goto daggerchoice *label daggerchoice *choice #I reach down and snatch the smooth hilt of the dagger, clutching it tightly. *set saxonsdagger true The dagger's hilt is made of fine, sturdy black leather that wraps around the hilt like tightly wound bandages. *if var2 = true The blade itself, though covered in blood and other body matter, is obviously finely forged, the edges sharp to the touch. *if var2 = false The blade itself, though scratched from use, is obviously finely forged, the edges sharp to the touch. You squint when you see engravings on the blade, then bring it closer to your face for inspection. "[i]To valor, from desperation. To need, from want. To victory, from loss.[/i]" -[i]To Saxon, from Sage.[/i] You furrow your brows and look up at the appearance of a lone dove, its white wings reflected in the red sun. It is crouched upon the fan, staring intently at you, its head tilted, its black eyes searching. You drag your gaze away from the dove, dagger in hand, look over at the burning sky... And finally breathe. *page_break [i]In...1, 2, 3, 4...Out...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,. In...1, 2, 3—[/i] *goto hummu #I turn my gaze away from the dagger, deciding to leave this act in the past, where it will remain. *set saxonsdagger false [i]The last thing I would do is touch that thing,[/i] you think.[/i]It's practically a bad omen.[/i] You furrow your brows and look up at the appearance of a lone dove, its white wings reflected in the red sun. It is crouched upon the fan, staring intently at you, its head tilted, its black eyes searching. You drag your gaze away from the dove, gathering your scattered thoughts and much of your pride. You look over at the burning sky, and finally, [i]finally[/i] breathe. *page_break [i]In...1, 2, 3, 4...Out...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,. In...1, 2, 3—[/i] *goto hummu *label hummu [i][b]You're out of breath and feel the dizziness start to take a hold of your clarity.[/b][/i] You ran for as long as you could and then ducked into an empty alley. You don't know how long you lean against the wall, trying to take deep breaths, just as your Aunt Alice taught you to. Your breathing exercise is cut off by a sudden clang at the end of the alley. You hold your breath. You don't move. You beg your ears to pick up even the slightest sound. Your hand hovers over a spare piece of metal with a dangerously sharp tip that lies near the dumpster, ready to use it to attack whoever is hiding in the shadows. The sound of sirens fills the silence. *page_break And then the leader of the hunters steps out of the shadows. His steps are full of a certain degree of confidence, amd would make almost no sound were it not for the slight scuffle of pebbles brushing against the concrete floor. He slowly raises his arms, as if willing you to see that he comes in peace, and takes off his hood. Your mind seems to stop in its tracks from pure shock, because you find it even harder to understand the situation. The boy standing in front of you is a distorted image of yourself. [i]His eyes[/i]. That is the first thing you notice about the boy standing before you. Instead of pure black orbs of emptiness, a trait you had long since associated with hunters, they're the exact same ${eyecolor} shade as yours. The slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, even the shape of your eyes are all eerily similar. *if race2 = false Even more so, he seems to be ${race}, like you, as well. *if race2 = true Even more so, he seems to be biracial, like you, as well. With his hood pulled off, and the dark shadows fading, you see that the only true difference is that his hair is a shock of tousled silver that catches the light of the thundering sky. The sky trembles. The sirens cease their wailing. *page_break "I knew you'd look like me..." the hunter begins. "But this is borderline creepy." You narrow your eyes at his statement, still in shock at the resemblance between you two. The hunter takes a step toward you. *choice #"Don't you mean [i]you[/i] look like [i]me[/i]?" I ask, pointing my makeshift weapon at his chest. The hunter sighs. "I mean, if you want to get all technical, then yes." You are silent for a moment before he speaks once more. "I have a lot of questions..." he admits. "But first I'd like to make sure you're not going to turn me into a human kabob." The hunter, with careful movements, reaches behind his back and unsheathes both his impressive twin blades. He places them on the ground in the space between you. Then, he reaches inside one of his many hidden pockets and takes out three more daggers, all more sharp and dangerous than the last. *goto qa2 #"What kind of trick is this? An illusion spell or something?" The hunter sighs. "If you consider the miracle of Mother Nature a trick, then yes." You are silent for a moment before he speaks once more. "I have a lot of questions..." he admits. "But first I'd like to make sure you're not going to turn me into a human kabob." The hunter, with careful movements, reaches behind his back and unsheathes both his impressive twin blades. He places them on the ground in the space between you. Then, he reaches inside one of his many hidden pockets and takes out three more daggers, all more sharp and dangerous than the last. *goto qa2 #"Don't take another step," I warn, pointing my makeshift weapon at his chest. "I have a lot of questions..." he admits. "But first I'd like to make sure you're not going to turn me into a human kabob." The hunter, with careful movements, reaches behind his back and unsheathes both his impressive twin blades. He places them on the ground in the space between you. Then, he reaches inside one of his many hidden pockets and takes out three more daggers, all more sharp and dangerous than the last. *goto qa2 *label qa2 Once he is done meticulously arranging the weapons before you, the hunter stands, unguarded. *choice #"You can't honestly expect me to face you unarmed." I quip. "That's a death wish." "I didn't think you would." the hunter admits. He paces further away from you, his footsteps silent and slight. "I'm more surprised that you haven't attacked me yet." "This is the first time I've had a conversation with a hunter," you admit. "You could say I have more than a few questions." "And I get that, really," he says. "But now's not really the best time to do a Q and A." As if on demand, the sky releases another quick burst of thunderous sound, the dark clouds moving from east to west in fearful response. "You don't get to decide whether or not I get answers," you reply, raising your weapon. "You're unarmed, and alone." The hunter seems to have an internal conflict, eyes dartting from you, to your weapon, to the sky. He is silent for a moment, ${eyecolor} eyes glinting with nerves and hesitance. Then, he relents, hands raised in sumbission. "Alright, fine," he sighs. "Fine. Ask away." *goto questionsforsaint #"It's a nice sentiment," I say, raising my weapon. "But now you've left yourself compltetely vulnerable." "That's true," the hunter admits. He paces further away from you, his footsteps silent and slight. "I'm more surprised that you haven't attacked me yet." "This is the first time I've had a conversation with a hunter," you admit. "You could say I have more than a few questions." "And I get that, really," he says. "But now's not really the best time to do a Q and A." As if on demand, the sky releases another quick burst of thunderous sound, the dark clouds moving from east to west in fearful response. "You don't get to decide whether or not I get answers," you reply, raising your weapon. The hunter seems to have an internal conflict, eyes dartting from you, to your weapon, to the sky. He is silent for a moment, ${eyecolor} eyes glinting with nerves and hesitance. Then, he relents, hands raised in sumbission. "Alright, fine," he sighs. "Fine. Ask away." *goto questionsforsaint #I lay down my weapon in the space between us. The hunter gapes for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. The metal bar makes a loud clang as it hits the hard pavement. "Really?" the hunter asks, shock written on his face. You nod, resolve in your expression. "This is the first time I've had a conversation with a hunter," you admit. "You could say I have more than a few questions." "And I get that, really," he says. "But now's not really the best time to do a Q and A." As if on demand, the sky releases another quick burst of thunderous sound, the dark clouds moving from east to west in fearful response. "You don't get to decide whether or not I get answers," you reply. "I took a leap of faith; I deserve something from that decision." The hunter seems to have an internal conflict, eyes dartting from you, to your weapon, to the sky. He is silent for a moment, ${eyecolor} eyes glinting with nerves and hesitance. Then, he relents, hands raised in sumbission. "Alright, fine," he sighs. "Fine. Ask away." *goto questionsforsaint #I take this opportunity to attack, wasting no time exchanging pleasantires. The hunter anticipated your swift movement. The metal in your hand was a dead give away, and so was your murderous expression. When you step foward, throwing the full weight of your upperbody into a deadly arch, you realize that it is a move Aunt Alice would have been proud of. The hunter tries to dodge the impact, but your weapon lands soundly against his temple. "I can't say I didn't expect this," he says, hand pressing against the side of his head. "But I just need a second to—" You interrupt him with another swift blow, this time to his stomach. This time though, hunter stops mid-sentence, using the momentum of his body to swerve out of the way, landing onto his heels. "I'm not interesting in talking," you say, reaffirming your stance. "Not even if I can give you the answers you need?" This makes you pause. Answers. That is a luxury that you haven't had access to in a long, long time. What kind of answers? The whereabouts of your aunt? Why the hunters are so insistent to capture you? You drop your stance, regarding the hunter. "You are going to answer every single question I have for you." *goto questionsforsaint *label questionsforsaint Your first question is the most obvious. "Who are you?" The hunter stares a you for a quiet moment, his ${eyecolor} eyes reflecting a nervous energy. "You want the full story?" he asks. You scoff. "Look, I didn't ask for a story; I asked for the truth." The hunter pulls nervously on his left ear, watching you appraise him. You notice that the very tips of his ears are irregularly pointed, sharper than average. His lobes connect to his temple, the skin blushed over due to the cold. "You won't believe me." he says, finally, sighing. You take a step forward. "Try me." *page_break "I'm your brother." the hunter says. For a short, loud heartbeat, neither of you make a single sound. The hunter looks at you with wide eyes, eyes that so fierecely mirror your own it's discerning. You glance at his hands, watching them open and close into fists, a slight tremor relasing.. "My brother?" you repeat incredulously. "What do you mean? How is that even possible?" The hunter runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, a quick sigh escaping him. You watch as he slowly pulls out an old, crumpled paper from one of his many pockets. He takes a hesitant step toward you, outstretched hand urging you to take the paper. You do. What you see as you smooth out the folds is a faded picture that nearly takes your breath away. She is the most beautiful creature you've ever seen, and it's nothing to do with her near angelic features. It's the aura of pure happiness shining from her ${eyecolor} eyes, threatening to spill over into every plane of this world. It's the genuinity of her smile; dazzling, bright, almost impossible to look away from. It's the baby in her arms that looks up adoringly at her, large ${eyecolor} eye's blazing. The baby boy. *page_break "We have the same mother...Prisiclla Angelis." the boy says. You barely hear him. Your eyes are locked on your mother's eyes. [i]Your[/i] eyes. It isn't until the boy clears his throat and holds out his hand that you are thrust back into the reality of the situation. Hesitantly, you give him back the only link you've ever had to your mother. The boy stares apologetically at you, and carefully takes the photo back, as if it's his prize possession. "Sorry...it's-its the only one I have of her." You know that all too well; Aunt Alice had never shown you pictures of your mother; she claimed they'd all been burned in a mysterious fire in their youth. The boy stares silently at you, his ever present nervous energy contaminating the stagnant silence. *fake_choice #"That's your proof? My mother's name and a random picture?" I question. "The truth is the truth whether you believe it or not. I don't know how to prove it to you; but just look at us. Anyone who walked by would think we're identical twins. Tell me that's a coincidence." "It's a coincidence," you say, deadpan. The hunter cracks a smile. "See, you're almost as funny as me; it runs in the family." The hunter notes your unamused expression, then shifts his stance. *page_break "My name is Saint." he says, holding out a hand to you. *goto hand #"I still don't believe you." I say. "And why should I listen to a single word you say? You're a hunter. You'd say anything to get me to lower my guard." "The truth is the truth whether you believe it or not. I don't know how to prove it to you; but just look at us. Anyone who walked by would think we're identical twins. Tell me that's a coincidence." "It's a coincidence," you say, deadpan. The hunter cracks a smile. "See, you're almost as funny as me; it runs in the family." *page_break "My name is Saint." he says, holding out a hand to you. *goto hand #"Where did you get this?" I ask. "I've had it for as long as I can remember, actually." the boy admits. "I take it with me everywhere; it's the only thing I have of her." "That's more than I can say for myself." you admit. The hunter nods solemnly. "Sorry." he says. *page_break "My name is Saint. Son of Zeus." he says, holding out a hand to you. *goto hand *label hand You stare at his hand. The boy grimaces. "This is about five seconds away from being extremely awkward. Or, you know, more awkward." You... *fake_choice #Shake his hand. *set Saint +10 Aunt Alice had always insisted that you can tell a lot about a person by how they shake your hand; her's was always frigid, but warm. Uncle Henry's was soft, but hesitant. Saint's is firm at first, but then weak before he quickly lets go. *goto genq #Ignore his outstretched hand. "I have more questions." *goto genq *label genq *fake_choice *hide_reuse #I ask about the hunters. *goto saintq *hide_reuse #I ask about the gods of Olympus. *goto godsq *hide_reuse #I ask about my godly heritage. *goto parentq #"Is that all?" Saint asks. *goto lovedones *label lovedones "No; I have one final question." you say. "A few years ago, my aunt went missing. This was just a few weeks after my first run in with the hunters. I haven't seen her since." The boy doesn't reply. "Do you know where she is or not?" you ask impatiently. "Did you or one of your friends take her?" Saint sighs. "For, I think, the hundreth time; we don't kidnap mortals." "Then where [i]is[/i] she?" you shout. "It's too much of a coincidence that after a failed abduction attempt that my aunt goes missing without a trace!" Your voice bounces off the brick walls, echoing back with just as much passion as when they were screamed. "Your aunt," Saint begins. "Is alive. That's all I know." Saint glances at you, then slowly reaches into one of his many pockets. He pulls out a weathered piece of parchment paper, the ink slightly smudged. "This is your brief; a few pictures, name, birthday, last known location, and a few notes." Under a school photo of you taken around your thirteenth birthday is your full name, a picture of Wilma's, and typcast words: Known Living Relatives: Alice Angelis - Olympus *page_break "She's on Olympus?" Saint nods. "Well, according to this report." he says. "I've never seen her; but there [i]are[/i] mortals on Olympus. Usually the relatives to demigods." "Why is she on Olympus? Does that mean the gods took her?" you demand. Saint shakes his head, sighing. "I don't know." "You don't know, or you won't tell me?" "No, I mean, I honestly don't know." he admits. "But, this is what they put in your report; it's obvious to me that this is a kind of bargain they've set up." You can hardly believe what you're hearing. "The gods wanted me to come to Olympus, so they kidnapped my aunt? That's just about the worst way to persuade someone." "The gods aren't exactly known for subtlety. All I know that it isn't out of the realm of possibility. My guess is that your godly parent wants to see you, and you haven't exactly made that easy. The method was sloppy, but not unusual." *page_break *goto afterq1 *label afterq1 After Saint's revelation, you stand more confused by his answers than relieved. If Aunt Alice has been living on Olympus, alive and supposedly unharmed, then what about ${bfname}? Though the circumstances were different, and apparently the Seeker that stands before you had nothing to do with the feral "hunters" you encountered three years ago, the question still stands. Could ${bfname} have been taken to Olympus too? Or did the supposedly imposter hunters truly kill ${bfhim}? Do you ask? *fake_choice #I ask; I've always wondered what happened. "When the hunters first found me," you begin. "I was with someone; ${bfname} Mays. When we were trying to get away, I escaped and ${bfname}...well, I don't know exactly what happened to ${bfhim}." Saint is already shaking his head before you've finished explaining. "This is an easy one; I don't know anyone by that name." Well, there's one dead end. *goto afterq #I don't ask. I don't want to know what happened. *goto afterq *fake_choice *label parentq Saint stares at the ground, his foot tapping against the pavement. "Do you know who my father is?" you ask hesitantly. Saint's foot stops tapping. He looks up at you, face unguarded. At first, due to his silence, you think he won't answer; he may only know so much, let alone be willing to share such information. "No," he replies. "That's...the weird thing. The gods usually send out personal orders when they discover one of their children in the mortal world; but this request to find you came from all the gods." "The entire pantheon?" you ask. Saint nods. "Stranger and stranger." *goto genq *label saintq *fake_choice *disable_reuse #"Who are the hunters, and why have you been after me?" "Well first of all, we're called [i]Seekers[/i], not hunters," Saint corrects you. "And we haven't been 'after' you." You narrow your eyes. "I have scars that prove otherwise." Saint sighs, casting a glance at his discarded weapons. "The Seekers are an ancient group of demigods that track down rogue demigods and bring them to Olympus for their own safety." "You're telling me," you begin. "That this entire time you've been trying to get me to come to Olympus? Not kill me?" Saint's ${eyecolor} eyes nearly pop out of his head. "[i]Kill[/i] you?" he gapes. "Who the hell is trying to kill you?" "You!" you exclaim. "Why do you think I reacted the way I did? Why do you think I'm here? For the last three years I've been on the run, state to state, trying to get away from [i]your[/i] 'Seekers'. Everywhere I turn there you all are, ready to hunt me down until I'm forced to fight back and relocate." Saint stares silently at you, at a loss for words. "Don't play dumb," you retort. "You're their leader; I saw you." "The provisional leader, yes," he admits, stumbling over his words. "But I'm not in charge; Saxon Cosse is the head Seeker...but he's been missing for years now." *page_break This confession stops you dead in your tracks. "There's a reason we've been looking for you, and it's not just because you're a demigod," Saint continues. "For the last three years, with every single squadron of Seekers we've dispatched and sent to retrieve you, at least half of them don't make it back. And those who do make it back tell us that people disappear right after they're tasked with finding [i]you[/i]." The silence between you is deafening. *choice #"I don't know what happened to your Seekers," I insist. "All I know is that they hunt me down until I'm forced to retalliate." Saint watches you with an indiscernible expression. You refuse to back down, meeting him with your own indomiable glare. Finally, he speaks. "Seekers don't harm their own," he says quietly. "It's our priority to bring demigods home to Olympus, but not through violence. We serve to protect. That, and the Gods would never allow it. What you're telling me goes against everything I've believed in my entire life; it doesn't add up." "[i]Nothing[/i] adds up." you rebute. Saint shakes his head, breaking eyecontact. *goto saintq #"You can't possibly be accusing [i]me[/i] of killing them off!" I argue. Saint watches you with an indiscernible expression. You refuse to back down, meeting him with your own indomiable glare. Finally, he speaks. "Seekers don't harm their own," he says quietly. "It's our priority to bring demigods home to Olympus, but not through violence. We serve to protect. That, and the Gods would never allow it. What you're telling me goes against everything I've believed in my entire life; it doesn't add up." "[i]Nothing[/i] adds up." you rebute. Saint shakes his head, breaking eyecontact. *goto saintq #"I stay silent, refusing to give up any information. Saint watches you with an indiscernible expression. You refuse to back down, meeting him with your own indomiable glare. Finally, he speaks. "Seekers don't harm their own," he says quietly. "It's our priority to bring demigods home to Olympus, but not through violence. We serve to protect. That, and the Gods would never allow it. What you're telling me goes against everything I've believed in my entire life; it doesn't add up." "[i]Nothing[/i] adds up." you rebute. Saint sighs, breaking eyecontact. *goto saintq #I want to ask a different line of questions. *goto genq *label godsq *choice *disable_reuse #"Does Olympus think I'm responsible for the disappearance of the Seekers?" "Well," Saint replies, leaning back against the wall. "Olympus is a heavily populated city with gods, demigods, creatures and mortals alike, but its rumor mill is like any other community. Since the first onset of disappearances and word of your involvement...things gotten out of hand. It started off with just a few assumptions, but after more and more Seekers went missing..." Saint frowns. "Don't get me wrong; there hasn't been any solid accusation. A, because there isn't a sufficient amount of proof to make one, and B, no one's been brave enough to do it. But as soon as someone does, the gods will be required to take this to trial." "Wait—you're saying that at any given moment someone could stand up and decide to take me to court—" "With enough proof," Saint interjects. "And I'd have to stand trial?" Saint nods solemnly. *goto godsq *disable_reuse #"Why am I needed on Olympus then, if not to stand trial?" "You aren't needed...you're expected." Saint answers. "All demigods reside on Olympus; it's the safest place for us to develop our powers. It's not just the home of the gods, it's home to their children, too." "My aunt never told me anything about that." you say. "Well, she's mortal. Seekers exist to safely bring demigods to Olympus. A rampant demigod with powerful, uncontrolled abilities going through puberty is about the most dangerous thing I can think of. Being on one of the most guarded places on earth with others of your kind under the protection of your godly parent is the safest alternative." *goto godsq *disable_reuse #"What is Olympus like?" An indescrible flicker of emotion passes on Saint's face. "It depends on who you ask." "Well, I'm asking you." you point out. Saint smiles, and it's an easy smile, something he must be used to doing under different circumstances. "If you're asking me, I'll tell you that it's like one of those paradise brochures you see in the airport. Every mortal's ideal vision of heaven. Olympus is remnants of ancient Greek cities and modern utopias all combined into one giant metropolis in the sky." "What else, besides its beauty?" "Aging demigods may live with their partners and children in quaint neighborhoods where hounds run free in meadows, but it's still the 'Home of the Gods.' By nature, it's about acquiring power and learning how to fighting for your life to keep it. But by coincidence, it's where demigods go to live peacefully." *goto godsq *disable_reuse #"How does Olympus help demigods?" "The Institute; on our transpcripts it's named as a distinguished private bording school founded by an 18th century genius, but really, it's a training ground for demigods of all descent. We take classes focused on aspects of Greek culture and the history of the gods, and we train with the very best to reach our full potential." Saint pauses, taking in a deep breath. "At least, that's what it says on the pamphlet." "So what's it really like?" "You're praised for being strong, a warrior. The give you the mindset of near invincibility; you could have an arrow in your heart and still be expected to pull through. And if you're weak, you're trained relentlessly until your weaknesses are nothing more than past mistakes..." he pauses, considering his words. "But it's home. Everyone there is...supposed to be your family." *fake_choice #"It sounds amazing." I say. #"It sounds...interesting." I say. #"That sounds more like prison to me." I say. #I say nothing, keeping my thoughts to myself. *goto godsq #I want to ask a different line of questions. *goto genq *label afterq After all is said, you still stand in a New York city alleyway with a trained Seeker, both of you glancing down at the discarded weapons on the wet pavement. "You don't need to believe anything I've told you," Saint insists, meeting your gaze. "And from what you've told me, you have no reason to. But just know this; whatever experiences you've had in the past with...[i]hunters[/i], or whatever you call them; it must have been a mistake. Those weren't us." You contemplate his words, and open your mouth to speak... When another hunter emerges from the shadow. *page_break She makes no attempt at subtlety. It is the girl from before, the one with the wicked blade who tried to end your life just moments before; she is without her mask and hood, her hair straight and a burnished red, sticking to the sweat of her pale forehead... And her eyes are the familiar black orbs of the hunters. "Azra?" Saint says in shock, addressing the girl. She stands like a stiff statue in the middle of the alleyway, her mouth slightly parted, eyes glazed over. "What the hell are you doing? I ordered you to—" It is then that Azra throws a dagger at your head. Your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and you find yourself pivoting your body to the left of the graffiti clad wall behind you, slamming painfully into your side. A spare second glance finds that the dagger Azra threw is now sticking straight out of the wall, just a few flimsy inches from where your head was. "Stand down, Azra!" Saint demands, crouching down in a quick movement to gather both his swords. The metal creating sharp relfections on Azra's now haggard face. "Don't make me—" She hisses at her leader, then reaches down into a deep crouch before lunging herself at you. You... *choice #Snatch her discarded dagger out of the wall, ready to weild it as my own weapon. The dagger is clenched into your sweaty fist, and in a quick moment as the feral hunter lunges at you...but she never gets close. The silver-haired Seeker swoops one arm out and traps the hunter's hood in the fist of his hand, pulling the fabric back against her neck and sending her head snapping back mid-lunge, her body falling backward. Azra is slammed down, her head landing painfully onto the asphalt. She gasps at the hard, sudden impact, her body convulsing violently before going still. "Azra!" Saint calls, standing over her. The girl doesn't answer, blinking up at the sky. Saint crouches down, his face directly over hers, his tone gentler. "Azra, can you hear me?" She could. It happens so quickly, you're sure that if you blinked you would have missed it. One second, Azra is on the ground, injured, Saint over her, placing a hand on her face, his words soothing...and then Azra's hand swipes up, a sharp knife tucked between her bruised knuckles, slicing against Saint's face. He reels back in pain, or shock, or betrayl—or maybe all three. He clasps his now bleeding face, a thick stream of blood tracing down the entire right side of his face, from the top of his eye to the curve of his neck. Azra unsheathes her sword, no longer wounded and dazed, the tip pointed at you. "You come with me," Azra demands. Her accent is thick, unfamiliar, and might have been lovely if her sword wasn't pointed at your heart with intent to strike. *page_break Then, the hunters arrive. *goto hunters #Brace my arms in front of me, ready to shove her away when she gets into close proximity. You place your feet firmly on either side of you, paralle to your shoulders, ready for the impact of the hunter...but she never gets close. The silver-haired Seeker swoops one arm out and traps the hunter's hood in the fist of his hand, pulling the fabric back against her neck and sending her head snapping back mid-lunge, her body falling backward. Azra is slammed down, her head landing painfully onto the asphalt. She gasps at the hard, sudden impact, her body convulsing violently before going still. "Azra!" Saint calls, standing over her. The girl doesn't answer, blinking up at the sky. Saint crouches down, his face directly over hers, his tone gentler. "Azra, can you hear me?" She could. It happens so quickly, you're sure that if you blinked you would have missed it. One second, Azra is on the ground, injured, Saint over her, placing a hand on her face, his words soothing...and then Azra's hand swipes up, a sharp knife tucked between her bruised knuckles, slicing against Saint's face. He reels back in pain, or shock, or betrayl—or maybe all three. He clasps his now bleeding face, a thick stream of blood tracing down the entire right side of his face, from the top of his eye to the curve of his neck. Azra unsheathes her sword, no longer wounded and dazed, the tip pointed at you. "You come with me," Azra demands. Her accent is thick, unfamiliar, and might have been lovely if her sword wasn't pointed at your heart with intent to strike. *page_break Then, the hunters arrive. *goto hunters #Allow my mind to focus as I conjure up a barrier. You begin the process of focusing your mind and silencing all thoughts around you, ready for the energy drain that will no doubt follow as the feral hunter lunges at you...but she never gets close. The silver-haired Seeker swoops one arm out and traps the hunter's hood in the fist of his hand, pulling the fabric back against her neck and sending her head snapping back mid-lunge, her body falling backward. Azra is slammed down, her head landing painfully onto the asphalt. She gasps at the hard, sudden impact, her body convulsing violently before going still. "Azra!" Saint calls, standing over her. The girl doesn't answer, blinking up at the sky. Saint crouches down, his face directly over hers, his tone gentler. "Azra, can you hear me?" She could. It happens so quickly, you're sure that if you blinked you would have missed it. One second, Azra is on the ground, injured, Saint over her, placing a hand on her face, his words soothing...and then Azra's hand swipes up, a sharp knife tucked between her bruised knuckles, slicing against Saint's face. He reels back in pain, or shock, or betrayl—or maybe all three. He clasps his now bleeding face, a thick stream of blood tracing down the entire right side of his face, from the top of his eye to the curve of his neck. Azra unsheathes her sword, no longer wounded and dazed, the tip pointed at you. "You come with me," Azra demands. Her accent is thick, unfamiliar, and might have been lovely if her sword wasn't pointed at your heart with intent to strike. *page_break Then, the hunters arrive. *goto hunters *label hunters You had briefly wondered if Azra was the only one to turn against her leader, and it seems that now you have your answer. They walk with the same awkward, strained gait that Azra has. Upon closer inspection, you note their dead, empty coal eyes. Azra's sword is still pointed at your heart as her hunters close in on you, menacing with their intent. You hear a moan from behind you, but you don't turn, your attention solely on the oncoming hunters, the sound of a dozen or so weapons being unsheathed filling the allyway. Then, you feel a shaking hand on your shoulder... *page_break You are blinded by a bright, inhuman light. *goto transp *label transp For a single, undefinable moment, there is nothing. *page_break And then the world changes, shifts, transpires before your very eyes. When the wind stops swirling like a tornado around you, and the light that had been shining into your eyes disperses...you are distraught. Before you is a bustling avenue filled with more people than a typical New York street. There are vendors on every corner, selling food and scarves and jewelry galore to hoards of people. There are tall buildings with sweeping red-tiled roofs and charming balconies, ancient citadels with decaying foundations and ornate windows depicting religious figures, and long, gleaming roads twinkling back at you, connecting these landmarks. Children galavant around, chasing bouncy red balls and tagging each other before disappearing behind street corners, their laughter trailing behind them. Men and women push strollers and hold small hands, speaking on their phones, bumping into someone every few minutes. Couples walk hand in hand through a nearby park with a beautiful stone fountain sprouting clean, clear water. A squad of bicyclists zoom past you, their spandex outfits a blur of assaulting color. Shops with colorful signs in a language you can't read are bustling with customers. Aromas of sweet desserts and savory delicacies linger in the air. You're turning and looking around all at once, trying to gauge your surroundings and take in every single detail. And under your feet, carved into the very sidewalk; "[i]Athens—Eleftheria i thantos.[/i]" Realization sinks in, tingling and uncomfortable and completely surreal. Mere seconds ago you resided in a dingy allyway in New York City, surrounded by bloodthirsty hunters, and now you're in Athens, Greece, a bustling metropolis. Instinctively, you react in... *fake_choice #anger. [i]Is there anything in my life that I can control?[/i] you wonder angrily, balling your hands into fists. A woman carrying a screaming child walks past you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn, and find yourself staring at the Seeker. He is crouched on the ground, picking up a small, golden ring. It seems to glow at his touch, a faint trail of smoke emiting from it as he slips it onto his finger. "What happened?" you demand, unable to placidate your anger. "What did you do?" The boy stands, blinking around at his surroundings, mouth agape. He shakes his head, and for a moment you see how young he is, how much of a child-like panic vacates his features. "I panicked!" You gawk, gesturing to the bustling city. "You panicked, so you teleported us to [i]Greece[/i]?" "Not intentionally," Saint says. "I wanted to teleport us to Olympus, but I guess I just wasn't focused enough for the charm to take hold. If you didn't notice, I almost got my face slashed off." You watch the Seeker twist the ring, eyes focused intently on it, the blood from his injury drying quickly, staining his face. "And, not to state the obvious," he says. "But we're kind of screwed." #denial. This couldn't be happening. You're far from ignorant in magical orrcurances but...teleportation? Being in one place one second and another the next? The hunters were just here, ready to end your life...and now... [i]Is there anything in my life that will ever make sense?[/i] you wonder, dazed. A woman carrying a screaming child walks past you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn, and find yourself staring at the Seeker. He is crouched on the ground, picking up a small, golden ring. It seems to glow at his touch, a faint trail of smoke emiting from it as he slips it onto his finger. "What happened?" you demand, unable to placidate your emotions. "What did you do?" The boy stands, blinking around at his surroundings, mouth agape. He shakes his head, and for a moment you see how young he is, how much of a child-like panic vacates his features. "I panicked!" You gawk, gesturing to the bustling city. "You panicked, so you teleported us to [i]Greece[/i]?" "Not intentionally," Saint says. "I wanted to teleport us to Olympus, but I guess I just wasn't focused enough for the charm to take hold. If you didn't notice, I almost got my face slashed off." You watch the Seeker twist the ring, eyes focused intently on it, the blood from his injury drying quickly, staining his face. "And, not to state the obvious," he says. "But we're kind of screwed." #fear. What is this, what is this, what is this? You feel a heavy sense of fear grasp at you heart, its claws sinking deep. You were already terrified, just seconds before, the hunter's blank eyes filled with the promise of death, but now... [i]Is there anything in my life that won't leave the bitter taste of fear in my mouth?[/i] you wonder, balling your shaking hands into a fist. A woman carrying a screaming child walks past you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn, and find yourself staring at the Seeker. He is crouched on the ground, picking up a small, golden ring. It seems to glow at his touch, a faint trail of smoke emiting from it as he slips it onto his finger. "What happened?" you demand, your voice shaking. "What did you do?" The boy stands, blinking around at his surroundings, mouth agape. He shakes his head, and for a moment you see how young he is, how much of a child-like panic vacates his features. "I panicked!" You gawk, gesturing to the bustling city. "You panicked, so you teleported us to [i]Greece[/i]?" "Not intentionally," Saint says. "I wanted to teleport us to Olympus, but I guess I just wasn't focused enough for the charm to take hold. If you didn't notice, I almost got my face slashed off." You watch the Seeker twist the ring, eyes focused intently on it, the blood from his injury drying quickly, staining his face. "And, not to state the obvious," he says. "But we're kind of screwed." #confusion. What is this, what is this, what is this? You feel the tendrils of confusion snake up and grasp at your minds, tightening around it, leaving you light-headed. How is this possible? You're far from ignorant in magical orrcurances but...teleportation? Being in one place one second and another the next? [i]Is there anything in my life that will ever make sense?[/i] you wonder angrily, balling your hands into fists. A woman carrying a screaming child walks past you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn, and find yourself staring at the Seeker. He is crouched on the ground, picking up a small, golden ring. It seems to glow at his touch, a faint trail of smoke emiting from it as he slips it onto his finger. "What happened?" you demand, your confusion apparent. "What did you do?" The boy stands, blinking around at his surroundings, mouth agape. He shakes his head, and for a moment you see how young he is, how much of a child-like panic vacates his features. "I panicked!" You gawk, gesturing to the bustling city. "You panicked, so you teleported us to [i]Greece[/i]?" "Not intentionally," Saint says. "I wanted to teleport us to Olympus, but I guess I just wasn't focused enough for the charm to take hold. If you didn't notice, I almost got my face slashed off." You watch the Seeker twist the ring, eyes focused intently on it, the blood from his injury drying quickly, staining his face. "And, not to state the obvious," he says. "But we're kind of screwed." #relief. You almost sink down to your knees. You feel the old sense of fear and nerves that had sunk onto your heart disperse, leaving you finally able to breathe. As ready as you were to face the hunters, you cannot describe the relief you feel. [i]Will I ever get a moment to truly live in peace?[/i] you wonder. A woman carrying a screaming child walks past you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn, and find yourself staring at the Seeker. He is crouched on the ground, picking up a small, golden ring. It seems to glow at his touch, a faint trail of smoke emiting from it as he slips it onto his finger. "What happened?" you demand. "What did you do?" The boy stands, blinking around at his surroundings, mouth agape. He shakes his head, and for a moment you see how young he is, how much of a child-like panic vacates his features. "I panicked!" You gawk, gesturing to the bustling city. "You panicked, so you teleported us to [i]Greece[/i]?" "Not intentionally," Saint says. "I wanted to teleport us to Olympus, but I guess I just wasn't focused enough for the charm to take hold. If you didn't notice, I almost got my face slashed off." You watch the boy twist the ring, eyes focused intently on it, the blood from his injury drying quickly, staining his face. "And, not to state the obvious," he says. "But we're kind of screwed." *page_break You sit at a sunlit table outside a cafe, opposite the Seeker. Saint's wound is even angrier than before, the blood crusting around the open wound. His weapons are placed carlessly on the table, twin swords in plain sight for all to see. You can't even imagine what [i]you[/i] look like after the day you've had. *if Allure>35 Though Saint's strange appearance—a bloody face and silver hair—caught the waitresses attention, most of her sly glances and blushes were directed toward you. Your food sits half eaten in front of you, your drink still cool, water dripping from the sides of the glass and onto the table. You have been contemplating the last few hours in silence, and it has obviously made the Seeker uncomfortable. He can't seem to sit still, fingers always tapping, knee bouncing, eyes tracing over every movement you make. You simply glare. "I know what you're thinking," he says, shoving a pastry in his mouth. *fake_choice #"Your friends betrayed you," I say. "And it looks like you had no idea about them." Saint stares at you with a blank expression. It's strange to see your own ${eyecolor} eyes staring back at you. He doesn't reply to your statement, but you can tell he has a sarcastic line on the tip of his tongue. "Or did you?" you ask in response to his silence. "No," he sighs. "I didn't wake up today thinking, 'You know what'd be fun? Organizing a plot in which all my friends try to kill me!'" "This proves that I was telling the truth; what you saw today is what I've been experiencing for the last three years." Saint grabs at his hair. "That doesn't make any sense; we've retrieved dozens of demigods from all over the world! This has never happened before. Why today? Why now?" "Azra is one of the most highly regarded Seekers there is," he continues. "She wouldn't do something like this. None of them would." You cast a pointed glance at his wound. Saint sighs, following your gaze. "This," he points at his face. "Is a one time occurance." *page_break #"Your friends proved every claim I've made true," I say. "And every claim you've made false." Saint stares at you with a blank expression. It's strange to see your own ${eyecolor} eyes staring back at you. He doesn't reply to your statement, but you can tell he has a sarcastic line on the tip of his tongue. "This proves that I was telling the truth; what you saw today is what I've been experiencing for the last three years." you continue. Saint grabs at his hair. "That doesn't make any sense; we've retrieved dozens of demigods from all over the world! This has never happened before. Why today? Why now?" "Azra is one of the most highly regarded Seekers there are," he continues. "She wouldn't do something like this. None of them would." You cast a pointed glance at his wound. Saint sighs, following your gaze. "This," he points at his face. "Is a one time occurance." *page_break #"I was right, you were wrong. Seems pretty self explanatory to me." I say. Saint stares at you with a blank expression. It's strange to see your own ${eyecolor} eyes staring back at you. He doesn't reply to your statement, but you can tell he has a sarcastic line on the tip of his tongue.. "This proves that I was telling the truth; what you saw today is what I've been experiencing for the last three years." you continue. Saint grabs at his hair. "That doesn't make any sense; we've retrieved dozens of demigods from all over the world! This has never happened before. Why today? Why now?" "Azra is one of the most highly regarded Seekers there are," he continues. "She wouldn't do something like this. None of them would." You cast a pointed glance at his wound. Saint sighs, following your gaze. "This," he points at his face. "Is a one time occurance." *page_break "I'll need to report this," Saint says, pointing at the gold ring on his hand. "Which is going to be a problem. This is a telering," he explains. "All Seekers are equipped with one in order to take us back to Olympus within a moment's notice...and that was my only one." *fake_choice #"Is there another way for us to get to Olympus?" I ask. The boy looks up, his fidgetting paused. "You'll really come?" he asks, suspicion vacating his voice. "Just like that?" You meet his gaze. "You said it yourself, Seeker. Olympus is the safest place on earth for demigods. I'm still not sure exactly who has been chasing me all these years, but I'm mostly convinced it wasn't [i]you[/i]." You cast a glance toward the busy street. "Not to mention, if I don't go with you, I'll be stranded halfway across the world." "Thank the gods," he murmurs. You nod. "Now, tell me; what's the plan?" Saint pauses, looking up at you. "Plan?" "Yes. You do have a plan...right?" Your waitress makes her way toward the table, a towel poised atop a silver platter. "I am sorry, we did not have bandages," she apologizes, staring at Saint's prominant injury. "But I can give you directions to the nearest hospital, it is just—" "No thanks," he interrupts her, taking the towel from her possession. The waitress casts a final glance at Saint's wound, but says nothing more, briskly making an exit. Saint, pressing the towel against the side of his face, turns his attention back to you. *page_break "There is one alternative, but it's not exactly...pleasant." *goto aboutnephlim #"And when was it agreed that I was going to Olympus?" I retort. Saint sighs, casting a tired look around the cafe. "The second the gods decided they wanted you back on Olympus." "So this is a demand, is what you're saying," you confirm. "I have no say in this situation?" "No one does. They're called gods for a reason." "And if I were to deny the offer?" you ask. "What if I just got up and walked away?" Saint leans back in his chair. "I don't understand why you would; the way I see it, being on Olympus with your own kind, under the protection of the gods beats being a runaway. Maybe by a margin, but still. And that's not even considering the fact that your aunt is on Olympus, too." Your waitress makes her way toward the table, a towel poised atop a silver platter. "I am sorry, we did not have bandages," she apologizes, staring at Saint's prominant injury. "But I can give you directions to the nearest hospital, it is just—" "No thanks," he interrupts her, taking the towel from her possession. The waitress casts a final, worried glance at Saint's wound, but says nothing more, briskly making an exit. Saint, pressing the towel against the side of his face, turns his attention back to you. "I have to bring you back to Olympus. I don't have a choice. And right now, after what just happened back in New York, it's the safest alternative for both of us." *fake_choice #"Fine," I say, already forming an escape plan. In the time span of less than 24-hours, you've been chased, threatened, and dragged across the world. This is the [i]last[/i] thing you need. You're already running through a possible plan in your mind; you didn't have much of a permanent life in New York, but you did have a nice place to live, and a steady source of income. And before today, you weren't being plagued by hunters. If your aunt is truly on Olympus, unharmed and safe, then perhaps you could convince the gods to let the both of you go free. It's a long shot, but at the moment, getting to Aunt Alice is your main priority. The Seeker looks up, his fidgetting paused. "You'll come? Seriously?" he asks, suspicion vacating his voice. "Just like that?" You meet his gaze. "You said it yourself, Seeker. Olympus is the safest place on earth for demigods. I'm still not sure exactly who has been chasing me all these years, but I'm mostly convinced it wasn't [i]you[/i]." You cast a glance toward the busy street. "And this goes without saying, but I need to find my aunt." "Thank the gods," he murmurs. You nod. "Now, tell me; what's the plan?" Saint pauses, looking up at you. "Plan?" "Yes. You do have a plan...right?" Saint coughs into his hand, averting his gaze. *page_break "There is one alternative...but it's not exactly pleasant." *goto aboutnephlim #"Fine," I say. "I see your point." *label agreedeal The Seeker looks up, his fidgetting paused. "You'll come? Seriously?" he asks, suspicion vacating his voice. "Just like that?" You meet his gaze. "You said it yourself, Seeker. Olympus is the safest place on earth for demigods. I'm still not sure exactly who has been chasing me all these years, but I'm mostly convinced it wasn't [i]you[/i]." You cast a glance toward the busy street. "And this goes without saying, but I need to find my aunt." "Thank the gods," he murmurs. You nod. "Now, tell me; what's the plan?" Saint pauses, looking up at you. "Plan?" "Yes. You do have a plan...right?" Saint coughs into his hand, averting his gaze. *page_break "There is one alternative...but it's not exactly pleasant." *goto aboutnephlim #"Well, that's unfortunate for you. I, on the other hand, will find my own way from here." I say, standing up to leave. You manage a few steps away from the table when you hear the Seeker's footsteps behind you. But you're determined, ignoring him and keeping a fast, brisk pace. The sidewalk is packed, toursits and locals alike converging on a single, thin crossway. In the time span of less than 24-hours, you've been chased, threatened, and dragged across the world. This is the [i]last[/i] thing you need. You're already running through a possible plan in your mind; you didn't have much of a permanent life in New York, but you did have a nice place to live, and a steady source of income. And before today, you weren't being plagued by hunters. Maybe you could— *page_break "What about your aunt?" Saint says behind you. *goto thedeal *label aboutnephlim "There is a sorcerer outside of town," Saint says. "His name is Nephlim." "Don't you mean [i]Nephilim[/i]? That means angel." you correct him. Saint shakes his head, frowning slightly. "He's no angel. But, that's not the point; he's our ticket to Olympus. I haven't contacted him in a few years, and I'm pretty sure he hates my guts, but the feelings mutual. It may take a promise, but I'm betting he'll be willing to give us a means of transportation." "Tell me again why we can't just use a mortal method?" "Olympus is the most guarded place in the world; you can't just cilmb up the side of the mountain and walk through the golden gates. The only way you get in is through the gods' acknowledgement; and the gods only acknowledge magic and power." "Then let's get this over with," you say. "The sooner, the better." Saint nods in agreement. For a moment, you contemplate asking him more about the gods; if all goes according to the plan, you'll be meeting with them face-to-face...and among them will be your father. *fake_choice #I ask for more information on the gods. *goto godsinfo #I decide not to ask for more information. *goto afterq3 *label thedeal The bustling crowd moves around you as you stand cemented on the sidewalk. This, it seems, is the only thing that can convince you to go. Aunt Alice's face pops into your mind; her sharp eyes, her wry smile, her hesitant laughter, her voice. You haven't seen her in over three years, but you've never stopped looking. And now, the opportunity to see her is right in front of you, practically taunting you with its convenience. You had intially considered that the hunters had kidnapped her, but now it turns out that she's with the gods. Did they truly kidnap her just to persuade you to Olympus? If so, why hadn't they told you this years ago? Did she go on her own, knowing what she knows about the world of the gods? Just the thought of being able to see her after all these years brings up a medly of emotions. It's after these racing thoughts move through your mind that you know you can't pass up this possibility. *page_break "Fine," you say. "Take me to Olympus." *goto agreedeal *fake_choice #I'm almost bursting with anticipation; after all this time I'm finally going to be reunited with her. #goto aboutnephlim #I'm happy she's alive, but I'm nervous about seeing her after all these years. #goto aboutnephlim #It's comforting that she's alive, but why didn't she try to contact me all these years? #goto aboutnephlim #I'm glad to finally know whether she's alive or not, but that's it. #goto aboutnephlim *label godsinfo *fake_choice *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Zeus." Saint grimaces for a moment. "He's the king of the gods, and a member of the Trinity; Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. He has complete domain over the sky, like grandmother Gaia, Mother Earth." "And he's your father," you point out, remembering your earlier conversation. Saint nods. "What is he like?" "He's...difficult to describe. He's just one of those people you can't have any prenotions about, though." Saint pauses. "I'm the wrong person to ask about him. I may be his son, but I know next to nothing about who he is." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Poseidon." "Remember those monster earthquakes that kept striking California a year back?" "Yeah, I do," you nod, recalling your talk with Wilma. "Why did Poseidon make them?" "There were some...giants in the area. He had to create a depression in the earth that led directly into Tartarus. Apparently, the earthquakes were unplanned, but none the less effective. He's not losing any sleep over it." You wait, blinking. Saint watches a poodle strut down the sidewalk, distracted. "Well, what's he like?" "I just told you." Saint says simply. You glare at him. Saint grins. "Okay, well, he's more like a combination of Zeus and Hades, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He can be the loudest person in the room, demanding to be heard, but he can also be nothing more than a shadow." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Hades." "He's not really a part of the pantheon. But he's a part of the Trinity." "If Hades isn't a part of the pantheon, then why is he considered a part of the Trinity?" you ask. "He's one of the twelve gods of olympians because his domain is in the Underworld. He doesn't exactly enjoy the company of the other gods. The only time he's actually on Olympus is for special occasions. But, he's a part of the Trinity because he's one of the original Olympians; one of the six children of the Titans. He's the eldest child, actually." "What's he like?" you ask. Saint raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't really know; I've met him a grand total of three times in my life. From what everyone says, though, he's one of the kinder gods." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Athena." A conflict of emotions settles on Saint's face. "She's one of our greatest assets. You won't find anyone with more knowledge about the aspects of war, science, and people." "That's all?" "I haven't had much interaction with her, luckily." he says. *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Aphrodite." Saint sighs, shaking his head. His falls over his forehead, casting shadows on his face. "Zeus' daughter and the Goddess of love. Don't underestimate her. Ever." He says no more on the Goddess of Love, and there's such a gravity in his tone, you don't inquire more information. *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Ares." "The infamous God of war; Zeus and Hera's son." Saint snorts. "Which saves him from being banished all together." "Banished? Why?" you ask. "Wouldn't they value the God of war like they value Athena?" "The rest of the gods hate him. With the exception of Aphrodite, of course." Saint answers. "And, I don't think there's enough time in this lifetime to explain Ares." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Hephaestus." "He's another son of Zeus and Hera," Saint says. "He's married to Aphrodite, too. Hephaestus is the God of fire and the forge. Up in Olympus, he's the master blacksmith. If you want a reliable weapon, it's him you need to go to. Just don't get on his bad side; Olympus isn't the kind of place where you can go without a weapon." "He's a nice enough person," Saint admits. "Just a bit...tempermental." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Hera." "Queen of the gods; Zeus' wife. She's the goddess of women and marriage, naturally." Saint says. "What else?" you ask. He shrugs, but you see a hint of begrudging fear on his face. "There's not much to say. But word of advice; don't piss her off." "Did you learn that personally?" you inquire, remembering who Saint's father is. "I'm a bastard child of Zeus; I pissed her off long before I was even born." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Demeter." "She's the goddess of fertility. She's one of the kinder gods." Saint smiles. "She makes really good cookies." "That's all? She's nice and makes cookies?" Saint laughs. "I guess I made her sound like the grandmother of the gods." Saint smiles, then widens his eyes, glancing at you. "Uh, don't tell her I said that." *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Apollo and Artemis." "They're twins and children of Zeus," Saint begins. "I'm sensing a pattern here." you interrupt. "Most of the gods are Zeus's offspring." Saint replies. "Ares and Hephaestus are the only children Zeus had with Hera, right?" Saint nods, a hint of a smile on his face. "It doesn't sit well with Hera that most of the people she has to spend all of eternity with are the children of her husband's mistresses." "What are the twins like?" "Apollo is the god of light, prophecy, the arts, and medicine. Quite a resume, huh? And his twin sister, Artemis? She's the goddess of the hunt, virginity, the moon, archery, animals—" You raise an eyebrow. "They're a bunch of overachievers," Saint says, but you can hear the fondness in his voice. *goto godsinfo *disable_reuse #"Tell me about Hermes." Saint shifts awkwardly. "He's the one who located you." You raise an eyebrow. "He's the one who led you to me? How did he find me?" "He's not just the messenger God...he's got a lot of other talents." Saint says. "Quick game; guess whose son he is?" "Zeus?" you ask. "Bingo." he says. "Hermes is essentially an ambassador for the gods. They tell him all their dirty secrets and send him on errands, and whatever else his actual job is; he always stands between the Gods, ever the peacemaker..." Saint shakes his head. "I suppose that's why they all like him so much; he knows who they really are, so it's harder to hate him for seeing behind their guise." *goto godsinfo #"I think that's enough information." I say. *goto afterq3 *label afterq3 The two of you begin to make your way through the city. There seems to be a quiet, anticipatory energy in the air. It feels like the calm before the storm, and you're not sure if you're prepared. Sweat coats your brow. It seems that within the last hour of your trek through the city, the temperature has skyrocketed. The air is dry, but suffocating at the same time, the contradiction making it a pain to inhale. Dust kicks up into the air, the particles turning the air into a bright shade of rust. The Seeker beside you had taken off his dark hood, wrapping it around his head. His steps are languine, but determined. His wound is completely dry now, the blood having crusted over and hardened. He pokes at it from time to time, a frown on his face. "There goes my modeling career." he states sadly. As far as you can tell, Saint comes across as flippant and childish at times, a stark contrast of the "lethal" hunter he's supposed to be, but appearances can be deceiving. Since your first encounter, he's tried to resolve your lingering doubt, but you know that there's more to the story. The question still remains; do you trust him? *choice #Yes. He's willing to tell me everything I need to know. Also, if he wanted to kill me, he could have attempted so a long time ago. *set Saint +20 *set trustsaint true *goto greeceadv #Somewhat. He seems to be telling the truth...but there's definetly something amiss. I'm going to keep an eye on him. *set Saint +10 *set trustsaint true *goto greeceadv #No. I just met him, and I can't let my guard down. Despite who he claims to be...once a hunter, always a hunter. *set trustsaint false *goto greeceadv #Not at all, but I have no problem [i]pretending[/i] to trust him. *set trustsaint false *set ftrustsaint true *goto greeceadv *label greeceadv The hot sun beats down on the three of you, almost tauntingly. The sun rays mercilessly shine down on Saint's silver hair and black fatigues. The skies are as clear as a clean cut diamond and just as blue as you had imagined they'd be in this part of the world. There's a warm breeze blowing through the air, providing what little relief from the heat it can. You'd almost consider this to be perfect vacation weather if under different circumstances. The road you've been walking on thins out and a clear path lays ahead. After a few more moments of walking, a small run down house constructed of old wood and jagged nails looms before you. "What's that?" you ask. "That's Nephlim's domain," Saint replies. "It's glamor; like the one used to disguise Magikeeps and Olympus." "And Nephlim is a magician, right?" you ask. "You can call him what you want; he's still a necromancer," Saint makes a sound of disgust, pulling at the collar of his shirt, sweat coating his skin. "But technically, the more modern term for anyone who practices magic would be [i]Magai[/i]." As you step onto the creaky front porch, a door that's just barely hanging on its hinges swings open. A shock of cool air presses against your face and swirls around you. Saint lets out a long sigh before entering the dark hallway. You hesitate a moment, then follow. *page_break The house, unsurprisingly, is creepy. "Creepy" might be putting it lightly when trying to describe it, but it's the best adjective you can come up with. Ripped pictures with broken frames hang on the dust and mold-ridden walls. Antique furniture is sparingly placed in odd locations; behind counters, sideways on the floor, at the foot of the ancient looking stairway. A cold and subtle chill flows through the room, leaving your breath visible despite the previous heat of Athens. You take a step further into the house, and the floorboard beneath your feet creaks. You jump back when you spot something the size of a cat move beneath the splintered wood. You take in a deep breath to counter your racing heartbeat, but you quickly realize that there's a faint smell of death that lingers in the air, and you wonder just how recent it is. Finally, you turn to Saint. "So...where's Nephlim?" *page_break As soon as the words leave your mouth, the floor drops beneath you. You spread your arms out as a seemingly endless abyss of darkness gazes back at you. You're [i]falling[/i]. You close your eyes tight, willing yourself to wake up from whatever nightmare you've stumbled upon. You land hard onto the ground. You rub your left arm, which took the brunt of the fall, and wince when you feel a throbbing ache in your behind. Saint, who managed to lift himself off his back, stands above you, offering you a hand. *if trustsaint= true You accept his hand and he helps ease you off the floor slowly, being mindful of your new injuries. When you have both feet firmly on the ground once more, you cast your attention onto your surroundings. *if ftrustsaint= true You accept his hand and he helps ease you off the floor slowly, being mindful of your new injuries. When you have both feet firmly on the ground once more, you cast your attention onto your surroundings. *if trustsaint= false You cast him a sharp glance. Ignoring his outstretched hand, you slowly ease yourself off the floor, being mindful of your new injuries. When you have both feet firmly on the ground once more, you cast your attention onto your surroundings. Before you is a room made of white marble. Everything glistens under an unknown source of light that looks too artificial to be the sun. There are rows and rows of aisles filled with a wide array of potions and unidentifiable ingredients. A tall double stairway made of the same glossy white mineral as the rest of the room glistens back at you. A large crystal chandelier hangs above your head, casting rays of its own reflection upon your skin. Then a puff of white smoke begins to spill out from the emblem on the floor. The smoke rises and rises, reaching the crystal chandelier, before fizzling out. A man in a crisp, white tailored suit and a glass cane stands before you. The color of his skin is a stark white, his face relatively young. His cane clanks against the floor as he makes his way over to you, and you notice that the head of the cane resembles the slithering snake embed into the floor. His milky white eyes roam over you, taking in every detail. *page_break His voice is as smooth as silk when he speaks. "I was wondering when you'd make an appearance." he says as a gretting. His milky white eyes focus on you for an instant as he tinkers with his cufflinks. Then, Nephlim slowly makes his way across the white floor, his cane making those distinct clanking sound against the hard surface. He stops just at the foot of the stairs, sighs quite dramatically, then disappears into a puff of white smoke. Saint watches the smoke disappear, then shakes his head, making his way up the stairs. "Here we go." You survey the room, stuck in place. Not sure whether or not to follow them just yet, you consider your options. *choice #I carefully make my way up the stairs. The sooner I get to the bottom of this, the better. *goto upstairsgreece #I make my way to the aisle of potions. There are too many possibilities to resist. *goto potionsgreece *label upstairsgreece The upstairs room is a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Where the main entrance was white and cold, the room before you is bustling with life and warmth. There are books and papers strewn across the floor, stacked upon a large mahogany desk that sits in front of a large bay window, and even slung on the arm of a comfortable looking couch. There are potions here as well, placed vicariously around the room and some hang dangling on strings from the ceiling. The sunlight that pours through the large window overlooking the vast land beyond Athens city shines through the potion glasses and creates multicolored reflections on the walls and furniture. And despite the sunlight, there is a yellow ambient light casting a warm glow on everything it touches. Nephlim is flipping through a book next to one of the large bookshelves, humming a tune. Saint takes a seat on the comfortable looking couch. "I take it you have a favor to ask of me?" Nephlim asks, not glancing up at your arrival. Saint glances up at the sorcerer. "No. I came here because I missed you with a burning passion." "Tell me, Saint Augustine—if you're done with your attempt at humour—if I were to turn you away now, where would you go? By the looks of both your injuries, I doubt you have any other options. So please, do at the very least [i]attempt[/i] to be pleasant." *page_break Nephlim finally glances up at you, his eyes scrutinizing. "Come here, child. Let me get a closer look at you." Nephilim puts his book away and snatches a potion that dangles above his head. He gazes at it in the sunlight for a moment, then nods with approval. "It has been far too long since I've seen..." he hesitates. "A demigod other than Saint Augustine." Hesitantly, you make you way over to the sorcerer. He seems older up close; you were fooled by his earlier appearance. There seems to be a battle of youth and old age across his features, both fighting for dominance. It's impossible to guess his age. "Tell me, ${name}," Nephlim says, his voice soft. "Have you ever traveled by light?" *fake_choice #"No, I haven't." I admit. "What does that mean?" *set earnest +1 #"Hasn't everyone?" I muse. *set sarcastic +1 #I shake my head. *set stoic +1 #"What kind of question is [i]that[/i]?" I sneer. *set mean +1 Nephlim smiles at your response. He holds the vial in his hands, closing his eyes. He recites some unfamiliar words you can only assume to be Greek, and the colorful substance in the vial turns into a clear liquid. "Take this," Nephlim says, his white eyes glowing. "Keep it way from Saint Augustine; no matter what he promises, he [i]will[/i] drop it." "What is this?" you ask, lifting the vial toward the sun's light. There are tiny, nearly invisible particles of color floating in the liquid. "Your most promising means of transportation," Nephlim says. "This is an old summoning spell that was debunked by Hermes many centuries ago; I suppose he grew tired of demigods requesting his aid. This is what you must do; pour the concoction around you in a circle. Wait for the sun to activate the particles in the potion. As soon as you feel a gust of wind, Saint will recite the summoning prayer. "Oh, yeah. [i]Now[/i] you need me." Saint mumbles behind you. Nephlim ignores him. "Are you ready?" he asks you. *fake_choice #"Wait...who are you, exactly?" I ask. The Magai lifts an eyebrow. "Who am I?" he repeats. You nod, narrowing your eyes. "I have the feeling that you already know who [i]I[/i] am, so it's only fair." The sorcerer's eyes lighten, and he smiles thinly. "So intuitive...it's quite comforting to know you have such a sharp eye. But, I wouldn't have expected less. Alas, there are more pressing matters to attend to." "So you're not even going to answer my question?" you ask, irritated. The sorcerer smiles. "Maybe in the near furture, when you no longer have so many things to confront...come visit me again, should the gods ever loosen their leash." Nephlim laughs at his own joke, his grin wide. Nephlim must see the hesitance in your eyes. "Now go; the sun will not stay in the sky forever, no matter how much we wish it to." Saint stands to leave, the ancient furniture creaking from the loss of weight. You two make your way toward the large, looming doors. You cast a final glance at the Magai, who hosts a haunting smile on his face. "A word of advice, if I may," he calls out. "I have lived long enough to know that those who have nothing to lose are far more dangerous than those who have everything to lose. There is a certain degree of unpredictability surrounding their spirit, a terrifying craving for [i]more[/i]. Be wary, ${name}." *page_break *finish #"Wait," I say. "There really isn't another way?" The sorcerer lifts an eyebrow. "Another way?" You nod. "Another way that doesn't require summoning a god with a potion given to me by a complete stranger, who according to Saint, dabbles in the dark arts." The sorcerer's eyes lighten, and he lets out a surprised laugh. "As of now, magic is the only way to enter Olympus. But, I do applaud your hesitance; I wouldn't have expected less." Nephlim must see the hesitance in your eyes. "You must go now; the sun will not stay in the sky forever, no matter how much we wish it to." Saint stands to leave, the ancient furniture creaking from the loss of weight. You two make your way toward the large, looming doors. You cast a final glance at the Magai, who hosts a haunting smile on his face. "A word of advice, if I may," he calls out. "I have lived long enough to know that those who have nothing to lose are far more dangerous than those who have everything to lose. There is a certain degree of unpredictability surrounding their spirit, a terrifying craving for [i]more[/i]. Be wary, ${name}." *page_break *finish #I say nothing, staring down the sorcerer. The sorcerer lifts a thick eyebrow. "No further arguments? No last minute inquiries? No doubts about my credibility?" "Just make sure I don't die." you say blandly. The sorcerer's eyes lighten, and he lets out a surprised laugh. "I applaud your valor; I wouldn't have expected anything less." Nephlim glances toward the windows. "You must go now; the sun will not stay in the sky forever, no matter how much we wish it to." Saint stands to leave, the ancient furniture creaking from the loss of weight. You two make your way toward the large, looming doors. You cast a final glance at the Magai, who hosts a haunting smile on his face. "A word of advice, if I may," he calls out. "I have lived long enough to know that those who have nothing to lose are far more dangerous than those who have everything to lose. There is a certain degree of unpredictability surrounding their spirit, a terrifying craving for [i]more[/i]. Be wary, ${name}." *page_break *finish *label potionsgreece You glance quickly at Saint, who has began trudging up the steep stairs. You make your way to the aisle of colorful glass vials, your eyes widening. The potions are separated by color. The left side of the room has aisles that contain potions of the darkest of blacks. The right side of the room has aisles that contain potions of the brightest whites. *fake_choice #Go to the left side of the room, knowing I have limited time. *set Moral -5 *goto leftsidegreece #Go to the right side of the room, knowing I have limited time. *set Moral +5 *goto rightsidegreece *label leftsidegreece Making up your mind, you walk through the aisles. The potions stand before you. You pick up one of the dark red vials that are nestled next to the even darker black vials. You pop the top off the potion, carefully taking in the aroma. It's a sweet, pleasant smell. You read the label on the potion. [i]CENTAUR'S BLOOD: AUG. 6TH, 1879[/i] You nearly drop the vial. [i]Of course it's centaur's blood,[/i] you think to yourself, wiping your hand on your jeans. "$!{name}? Come on." Saint's voice echoes against the haunting emptiness of the foyer. Carefully, you close the vial and put it back in it's respective place on the shelf, make your way back to the foyer and up the staircase. *goto upstairsgreece *label rightsidegreece Making up your mind, you walk through the aisles. The potions stand before you. You pick up one of the light blue vials that are nestled next to the, even more, radiant white vials. You pop the top off the potion, carefully taking in the aroma. It's a sour, unpleasant smell. You read the label on the potion. [i]FAERIE BLOOD: MAY 24TH, 1630[/i] You nearly drop the vial. [i]Of course it's faerie blood,[/i] you think to yourself, wiping your hand on your jeans. "$!{name}? Come on." you hear Saints voice echo against the large emptiness of the foyer. Carefully, you close the vial and put it back in it's respective place on the shelf, make your way back to the foyer, and up the staircase. *goto upstairsgreece