“You are gathered here today at our door hoping to gain strength, to learn the secrets of the Jackalopes and make it your own. Do not deny this fact! No matter how noble the motives you claim may be, at the core of every prospective disciple is ambition! In truth that is nothing to be ashamed of… so long as it is well utilised. The purpose of these trials ahead is to separate those who can make good on this ambition from the ones who delude themselves, separating the Jackalopes from the simple hares. Now aspirants, show me, which are you!” -Attributed to Sarah Cunningham, Hero of the Wasteland, former head of the Jackalope Sect and Jackalope Empire prior to her self imposed imprisonment
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The mood in the Ruin Rat camp was completely different from the usual ever present state of exhaustion, anticipation and anxiety. Today was a day of celebration, in of itself not entirely unusual for all Rats that earned enough to retire in mostly one piece warranted celebrations each time it happened, but this one was noteworthy because John was going where no Rat had gone before. He was on the path to join the Lead Cave, to join ranks of heroes that most had only heard about in stories or had merely caught vague glimpses of outside of the Supervisor of course, and this certainly didn’t happen every day! Singing, dancing and most importantly for most of the young Rats, feasting was had, laughter rang through the night so loud it was as though they were trying to catch the attention of the Moon.
Once more John found himself at the centre of attention and immediately discovered he very much was not a fan of it. When he was not being crowded around and asked a million little questions that individually were not so bad but together formed a deluge that threatened to drown him he felt a distance from his fellow Rats, people who were once while maybe not the closest at least peers and friends. It stung to see them look at him like he was from another world, there was an aching sensation in his chest for losing something he did not even know he had when he saw them whisper among themselves and stare at him with wide eyes. A few were brave enough to at least try to talk to him as they always had, Oliver polite as always did his best at a token conversation and surprisingly a boy named Jason who had joined while John was training with the Supervisor managed some token hellos and how are you doings, but it just wasn’t the same. He supposed it was a foolish idea to expect the world outside to stop revolving just because he wasn’t there to see things change, after all he expected this didn’t he? After all this was his dream…
Seeing people he had considered friends, family even, sit greater than an arms distance away from the communal table and not knowing what to even say to them John found himself questioning that idea. Before he could wallow much longer he felt a familiar reassuring pat on his back.
“Cheer up boy, you are letting the meat grow cold!” the Superv- no, Alexander remarked jovially while handing John a juicy Great-Roach kebab, looking further up his face revealed he held an understanding look in his eyes and for the first time that night John felt a little less alone.
“Thank you Supervisor.” he said, a small warmth growing in his chest as he accepted the roasted bugs.
“So, have you any last things you want to leave before you pack up for the trials?” the Supervisor asked, producing another stick and biting the meaty insects off with a delicate crunch one by one as he did so.
“Yes I do actually.” John said with quite a bit more resolve than even he had expected. “It’s something I think is long overdue…”
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Early in the morning he reached a mass grave which by providence was located near camp. Like most mass graves this one was unmarked, left to be forgotten by most, a painful reminder of terrible years now past. The husks of now dried and rotten flowers, burned out ritual candles and small offerings to silent spirits littered the barren ground swallowed up by the rising flora. John was not sure if his parents were here, really most people did not know exactly where friends and family lost in the Famine ended up, but it didn’t really matter. He stood there with a small offering to the Great Spirit in hand, a little cross shaped pendant an Atomic Priest told him was important once. He didn’t really know what it meant, yet it felt more right than coming empty handed.
John felt as though he should have known his parents better, but to say he knew what they were like at all would be a lie. Sure he knew a little of what they looked like, in pools of water he would remember his father’s neatly groomed hair in his own shaggy black mane, and sometimes he could see the vague outline of his mother’s face in his own features. Beyond that however he lost them before he truly knew them, he feels the emptiness of their absence but that wound had long since scabbed over and left nothing but a scar, now they were just rapidly fading memories. What did they do? How did they meet? What dreams did they have? What did they expect of him? The answers to all these questions, like countless others, lay buried under a shallow layer of earth tangled with the bones of nameless strangers.
“Hey mom, dad, I uh… I know I am not the most filial son…” he started awkwardly, the words struggling to form in his mouth, having to be plucked from the ether like buzzing flies.
“I am going to become a cultivator! You would be proud… I think?” He continued, talking as much to himself as the spirits of his family.
“I have a new name now, or rather I added one to my old one, I hope you don’t mind. Have I properly introduced you to the Supervisor yet? His name is Alexander Aurelium, but I have a feeling he doesn’t like to be remembered. He seems so tired all the time but that doesn’t stop him from doing his best, I like to think he is kinda like you dad.” he continued to speak, blinking away tears as his eyes went blurry.
“You might be asking what happened to my arm… truthfully I am not too sure myself, but his name is ARTOS and he is friendly! I think… he helps me in fights at least, I might’ve been dead without him.” he continued clutching hard at the cross in his hand.
[ARTOS IS DESIGNED TO HELP!] ARTOS added probably what it thought was helpful prompting a snort from John.
He talked to the wind for hours, until the sun rose up to the height of the sky and down again, talked until his throat felt sore. Afterwards there was a lightness in his chest, he didn’t know if it was the spirits of his parents shining down upon him or simply the satisfaction of closure but he felt an inexplicable relief from the experience. A three armed figure made himself known some on the other side of the mass grave with a cough, Alexander was clearly there for some time, but had evidently made the choice to remain silent.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Are you ready now to depart for the Lead Cave?” he asked John.
“Ready as i’ll ever be.” John replied, wiping old tears from his eyes and dropping the offering onto the cold dirt before turning around intending to never turn back.
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Together with the entire camp in tow the Supervisor lead John to the nearest civilization to the Sect, and in the process find someone to take up his duties in, well, supervising. Like with any expedition to a new campsite the large cart normally used to hold salvage and scrap was turned into a makeshift carriage on which over a dozen rowdy children and teens were cramped together dragged by Alexander and now, much to his displeasure, John. The sight of a large gorge in the otherwise flat environment of the Golden Plains Province was like a dying man’s first sip of water in the desert to the screaming muscles of John, even ARTOS seemed tired out from the journey if the constant clicking and buzzing from the Relic meant what he thought it did.
Gorgeville was, as its name implied, a city in a gorge, hardly the most creative of names, but then again neither was Greywater. It was far smaller than Greywater, but it felt denser, buildings necessarily packed together in a cramped crack in the ground connected by networks of dangerous looking rope bridges and catwalks. Some of the buildings appeared carved into the very cliff walls and John couldn’t help but to gawk a little even as Alexander played a patient tour guide with his former coworkers.
“Stay away from the edge Rubble I shouldn’t have to repeat myself again! No Alice, the people here do not eat rocks. Once more Baux we are going to meet a friend of mine, and he’s gonna be Supervising you while I take John to the Sect… KNOX NO!” Alexander repeatedly answered with an exhausted tone.
John’s attention was however drawn to something else entirely, an otherwise ordinary looking building perhaps a little taller than its neighbours, branded with the large lead crescent of the Lead Cave.
“You still have that crescent I gave you right?” Alexander asked, turning away from the others for a moment.
John nodded, still wordless.
“You go in there, tell them you want to apply as an Aspirant and when they laugh and try to turn you away, show them the badge and tell them Alexander Aurelium sent you alright?” he instructed, before leaving with a small wave right when Rubble once more strayed too close to the lethal edge.
With a gulp John psyched himself up, flexed his Relic arm, and stepped in through the gates.
He didn’t know what to expect, probably something more interesting than a tired looking receptionist hunched over a stack of parchment at a stone desk however. Taking a look at John he let out a deep sigh and looked up from his desk.
“Just because you have a Relic attached to you, no matter how impressive, doesn’t mean you will be selected to compete in the Trials.” he droned, clearly having done this song and dance before.
Undeterred John walked up to the desk and placed the badge on the table. The receptionist looked stunned for a second before he inspected it closely with a squint. Satisfied with its authenticity the next question was asked.
“Where did you steal this from?” the receptionist asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
“Alexander Aurelium gave it to me sir, he sent me here!” John declared perhaps a bit too stiffly. Once more the receptionist had a mildly shocked expression before rapidly flipping through pages on his desk. Several awkward minutes passed as the receptionist rummaged through a stack of parchment before finally retrieving the appropriate document.
“I see… you are in luck, the window for accepting Aspirants is about to close in another week’s time. If you can write, write your name here and sign here please, if you cannot, a verbal record and fingerprint will suffice.” the receptionist stated, handing John a small inkpot and a pen.
After signing the parchment he was handed what appeared to be a small metal box with a red piece of glass on the top. “This will buzz when your paperwork is finished processing and a member of the Sect is ready to guide you and approved guests to the Sect for the trials, so don’t lose it. Thank you for your application.”
John nodded, “Thank you sir, uh… have a nice day.”
After that surprisingly easy process John had little else to do but wait for Alexander to return. Fidgeting with the small box in his hands John wondered just what the hell he was going to do in the meantime.
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Elder Aurelium spent much of his time doing petty administrative business, hardly the image one would conjure for an Elder of a major provincial Sect, but then again the tales always did have a habit of exaggerating things. Half of his eyes gazed lazily at the afternoon sky beyond the windows, the other half fighting between wandering around his body and actually looking at the paperwork in front of him. Having been stuck on a bottleneck at the 10th step of the Mutant Realm for the past several decades he had a choice to make, either risk his life trying to break through and kill what was left of the legacy of one of the founders of the Lead Cave Sect for good, or pin his hopes on the next generation to ensure even should he fail to break through glory still existed in the future for the Aurelium name. He had pinned his hopes on that second option far too much once, he had been far too distant, uncaring of his son in all matters except the glory he brought until it was far too late. Now that his son had appeared to all but left the Sect for good he also had neither the energy nor the will to truly pursue that first option he remained the least of the Elders, held up only by lack of competition and a name that was inching closer to extinction day by day. Once that thought would have terrified him, now he was just tired, his goals had shrunk from grand ambitions to making it through the next round of minor paperwork that constantly threatened to drown the Sect. Of all the tedium and numbers that had assaulted his mind over the past several months however one single paper caught the attention of all 30 of his eyes, several swimming across his flesh from their positions idly looking out windows or at the ceiling to draw his full attention at what was in front of him.
Aspirant Application: John Aurelium Zhou accepted on behalf of sponsorship of Alexander Aurelium.
Over and over he read the names on the top of the small, otherwise unnoteworthy piece of parchment, three hearts beating rapidly in his abdomen. He had truly done it, his son had fulfilled his promise!
Pushing aside his emotions briefly, he still had a job to do after all, Aurelium read over the file in more detail. He trusted the judgement of his only son, but it never hurt to be thorough about vetting Aspirants, nobody liked dealing with the aftermath of someone too weak to face the Trials after all.
Cultivation estimation: 7th or 8th step of the Wretch Realm.
Relic User: Yes.
Relic Type: Cybernetic enhancement?
Description: lanky young man of primarily Asian ancestry likely between the ages 13-15, most notable feature a right arm entirely replaced or engulfed with a Relic covered with pulsing metal plates and red cords.
Dozens of eyebrows raised, a bonded Relic? He hadn’t seen one of those in an age, not since he met with the fabled Fleshwelded Knights of the Ultima Guild, and he still felt uneasy at the memory of men and women who willingly tore apart their flesh to become a vessel for a weapon just as likely to kill its user as it was their foes. John could just as likely prove a boon or yet footnote on the dying embers of the history of Clan Aurelium. As much as he wanted to believe in the one his son thought could live up to their legacy there was just far too much he did not know…
Although…
That was hardly an obstacle to fast tracking an application for joining the Trials. After all you hardly find the true measure of a man if you never let him prove it.
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Wandering around the narrow streets of Gorgeville, John repeatedly found himself amazed how busy and dense the place could be. Though apparently smaller than Greywater it felt three times as crowded, and at first it was amazing! After a while however that got old and with the novelty faded all that remained was the migraines, who thought it was a good idea to build a city in a crack in the ground! Moving to a small trench in the wall carved into the rock by both natural and human forces, John sought solitude to catch his breath. What he found instead were a pair of muscle bound brutes accosting a much smaller man outside of a shop built into the cliff.
“Time’s up Con! Protection payment is past due!” one of them grunted with a voice that sounded as though he ate rocks for a living.
“Please, I can pay in a week! It’s just that ever since the Spirit Stone mine shut down business has been a little sparse is all!” the much smaller shopkeep pleaded.
The second brute physically picked up the man and growled. “Ain’t that the same story ya sold us last week? Excuses can only get ya so far!”
John remembered the words of Alexander, he didn’t know the full situation, he didn’t have to get involved, he really shouldn’t get involved… he really…
His body started to move before he finished that thought.