Day 3
--- Jon ---
Awareness training had always been something of a mixed bag when it came to his mother.
If he was lucky they’d find a bench on a crowded street and spend a couple of hours people watching. Taking note of their clothes, the way they carried themselves, and a number of other details necessary to determine their intentions and activities. Something that he actually considered a fun bonding experience.
If he was unlucky however -such as today- awareness training would break down to wearing a blindfold and listening for his mother walking around him. During which she would occasionally shift her weight and faint a blow at him that he was expected to dodge. Something that was not fun in the slightest.
“Feel like I’m stuck in a bad martial arts movie…” He couldn’t help but sigh, hoping it’d make his ma speak up so he could find her.
She didn’t fall for it.
Most people thought the point of the exercise was to learn to fight blind, -something that was locked to fiction outside of grappling where you used memory and touch to find your placement- What the exercise was actually for however was to help train up his actual response to sound as well as his ability to focus on his hearing.
Both things that he was more than used to dealing with when fighting corrupted in the middle of the night with nothing but an old oil lantern to light the clearing. Which is why he was able to pick up the shifting of his ma’s foot just in time to leap away from one of her strikes.
“Huh, definitely doing better at this than you did last year.” His ma commented curiously.
“Ever have to chase a kid through the woods in the middle of the night?” He asked with a bit of amusement.
There was a pause where he felt his ma was weighing the validity of that question, before she finally answered with a wary, “No.”
“Good, because it took three of us to find the little runaway, and I’d feel bad if you could show all of us up on your own.” (Though I wouldn’t be surprised by it in all honesty.)
That got a laugh out of his ma.
Scene Consequences
-Gained 2XP to Awareness and 1XP to Combat.
--Currently: Awareness Lv. 8 (2/18) and Combat Lv. 5 (3/12)
---
Stepping back into his room after separating from his ma as she made her way back to work, he took note of Pix passively shifting through the pages of one of his old books with a bored expression on her face.
Looking around with a thoughtful look, his eyes eventually fell onto the hiding spot of some of his newer books. “Hey, Pix? You feel like doing a bit of magical research.”
The little fairy leapt into the air and began nodding vehemently, hoping his usual dabbling of magic would be enough to ease her boredom. (That or the one in three chance my project backfires with comical results. Honestly, it’s probably the second one.)
“Alright, how about we start off with a general review?” He asked, picking up one of the notebooks on magic he’d made when studying Miss Edna’s books, knowing the least active of his magical studies would annoy her more than anything else.
Pix stuck her tongue out at him, clearly not liking that kind of research as she immediately flopped back to where she’d been laying.
“I know reviewing things isn’t fun,” He partially agreed with a sigh, “but at the same time we need to make sure we know our stuff. Especially since we can’t just ask Miss Edna for pointers now that we’re here in the city.”
The little fairy rolled her entire head, before giving him a ‘get on with it’ gesture with her hand.
“Right, so first things first.” He began. “There are five types of magic users amoungst humanity. Most commonly known are the Arcane who can produce magical Anima passively, and Practitioners -like me- who learn to channel it through the use of rules and artifacts magic is typically bound to because we can’t naturally generate magic.”
Pix nodded, barely paying attention since she already knew about all of this.
With a roll of his eyes he kept reading. “Less known, but just as important are Incarnates -like Ying- who while lacking the flexibility of other magic users, possess an amount of power and control in their singular concept that is awe inspiring. Even going so far as being able to turn into their concept or consuming it to restore their own magical reserves.”
The little fairy shivered at that description, no doubt remembering when the Beast of Blackwell had tried to corrupt Ying, and the threat she’d been.
(Two hungry yellow reptilian eyes stared at him, as lightning crashed all around and the storm’s rain continued to pour ever harder.
His hand tightened on his blade and axe, ready to do what must be done as he met his frie- the beast’s gaze unflinching.
A roar mad and inhuman in nature tore through the air, as the corrupted lunged at him with full intention of tearing him limb from limb.
An intention he was prepared to match with equal savagery. After all, it didn’t matter who it was before, for now, (it’s just another beast to be hunted.))
He shook his head clear of that (dark) memory, not wanting to think of everything he had to do that day. Everything he was willing to do as he came to his own moral horizon.
“Next up, are the Accursed.” He began, forcing his way through another mental breakdown. “These are people who do to an infusion of magic twisting their being have gained some form of magical ability, at the cost of waring down their sanity. Typically, through less than willing methods.”
Sadly, pretty much all of the Corrupted of Blackwell could fall into this category. The fact that he’d found this out was the primary reason he even knew what they were.
Something Pix realized, if her own sad gaze was anything to go by.
“Okay, and the last kind of magic user is, well I don’t know what their called, but this is actually something I picked up from De Sade.” He admitted with a grimace, earning a curious look from the fairy he made sure to keep away from the warlock.
“Apparently, despite the fact that Malice -still not sure what that is exactly- is an anathema to Anima, some Slashers have their own form of magic that while operating under similar rules to an Arcane’s magic, has a distinctly more malicious bend.” He attempted to explain. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact he was warning me to avoid them until I’m good enough to kill them, I’d wish he’d have explained that a little better.”
Pix gave him another curious look at that, probably having the same questions as him as far as all of that went.
“Yeah, De Sade isn’t known for his helpfulness…” He agreed wholeheartedly. (Especially since he’s better known for magical sabotage, mystical espionage, and demonic assassinations…) “Either way, that’s all I got out of him on that front, and that’s all five classes of magic user. Anything to add?”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Pix shook her head before flopping on her back, unwilling to review anything else for the time being.
“I guess I’ll just go over the rest of my notes myself.” He told her with an unseen roll of his eyes, earning a solemn nod from the oblivious little fairy.
Scene Consequences
-With Pix’s assistance and Miss Edna’s books, gained 3XP to Occult.
--Currently: Lv. 4 (8/10)
---
Growing antsy after a prolonged bout of reading, he got up and left his apartment with the intent of taking a walk around his block to see if anything had changed over the summer. And sadly, it had.
Living on the southside of the city, he knew their neighborhood wasn’t the best, but at the very least prior to his leaving their neighborhood had largely been outside of ‘gang’ territory. Largely because a number of the poorer cops lived in this neighborhood -such as his ma and Garcia’s family- meaning as far as he knew the gangs didn’t openly push into it, due to said cops keeping an active patrol near their families.
Still while they weren’t any of the ‘major gangs’ like The Covenant or The Gamer’s Guild, his ma had made sure that he knew enough the basics about any gang big enough to hold territory. Especially the nearby territory. Which is why it wasn’t too much of a challenge to spot a number of gang tags he was sure hadn’t been there a few months ago, as well as a number of people wearing gang colors walking the streets.
(It’s probably nothing…) He assured himself, in that way his more paranoid self-referred to as a lie.
(I mean, it’s not like a gang could suddenly gain a member that would make them more confident about pushing against the cops, such as say a new Deviant.) His mind argued with a sarcasm he fully intended to blame the Cheshire for.
(Right, because it takes time for Deviants to build power, regardless of what Deviancy they may have. Meaning even if they had a new Deviant it would still take time for them to become a threat.) He continued, forcing his train of thought to take a more positive direction.
(Then again I picked up some dangerous tricks after just a couple of months, so it wouldn’t be too hard for someone with say a fire affinity to figure out how to enchant bullets into incendiary rounds.) After all, that was something he’d been considering for his arrows once he cracked a stable release mechanism.
(Maybe after a year or something. I had Miss Edna helping me learn as fast as I did, and I still haven’t cracked enchanted ammunition.)
(Though it’s possible Miss Edna kept me from picking up the more violent aspects of magic, like De Sade said she would…)
(No!) He slapped his cheeks, refusing to think bad thoughts about the closest thing he had to a second parent.
Stopping before he could start spiraling into another argument with himself, he took a moment to try and figure out where exactly he’d wound up, only to pause as he found himself outside of a store that had had its window busted in.
(Regardless of the how or why. The crime rate in this neighborhood is going up. Might want to tell ma and Garcia to be careful out here…)
His fingers curled in, not quite making a fist, but close to it.
Scene Consequences
-Jon has been made aware of the local gangs encroaching on his neighborhood.
---
Having learned more today than he’d wanted, he decided it was time to try and take a nap. After all, (I’m just so tired of this…)
Every time things started to calm down, something else would pop up to cause him trouble. A part of him -one that knew it would be disappointed- hoped that when he woke up he’d be able to forget all about his problems, or that they would resolve themselves.
And it was to the point of humoring this part of him that he was laying on his bed a few hours before he’d normally begin dinner, Pix laying on next to him as the slothful little fairy refused to miss out on an opportunity to nap.
With a little help from a few meditative tricks he’d picked up from his ma and miss Edna, he was eventually able to push aside all of his troubling thoughts and memories as he succumbed to the dark embrace of slumber, one that was slowly clawed aside by long vines of thorn covered black briar.
Looking around, he found a familiar shifting black mist consuming, and devouring the nothingness around him as eyes filled with madness and insanity peeked out from the abyss, only to flinch behind the all ensnaring black briar as it met his gaze.
“Couldn’t you just leave me alone.” He sighed in resignation, not even bothering to look at the man pouring a cup of tea for him across the table he couldn’t remember sitting at.
(“I suppose that’s fair.”) The man admitted with a voice that was passively mocking. (“Now that’s not entirely fair. Making fun of my voice? Really?”)
“We both know that’s not your only voice.” He argued finally looking at the man wearing a mask. “The only reason you’re using it is to annoy me.”
The man tilted its head to the side as it passed him his cup. (“Well, that’s a matter of perspective really. You could just be expecting me to mock you, so that’s what you hear.”)
Knowing there was no point arguing with the entity over something so petty, he ran a hand down his face. “Just… what do you want?”
(“What? I’m not allowed to check in with my champions on their vacations?”) The man asked, managing to sound offended despite the fact that Jon could clearly hear a smile in the man’s voice. (“To be fair, I’m always smiling these days.”)
“Why?”
(“Why not?”)
He didn’t bother being frustrated with the entity that was most certainly not human, regardless of how much it like to pretend so.
(“Oh, I don’t pretend. I’m human when I feel like it. And I’m not when I don’t.) The man in the mask explained. (“I just find humans more fun from the outside looking in.”)
“Right…” He sighed, “So what do you need me to do?”
The man in the mask blinked, a cup of tea halfway to its mouth. (“Hmm? Whatever do you mean?”)
“The first time you invaded my dreams it was because of the corrupted. I’m guessing you’ve got something along those lines again.” He answered with a heavy dose of resignation.
(“Mm, I feel like you’re under a misconception of sorts about the nature of our relationship.”) The man in the mask warned him. (“Dealing with the corrupted was more of an added bonus than anything else. A side deal if you will.”)
Given just what he’d gone through dealing with the corrupted, that did very little to actually comfort him. “Okay, so if the insanity infected infestation was merely a side deal, then what was the actual point of you contacting me.”
(“Oh, I contact everyone important eventually.”) The man in the mask told him, before laughing. (“Funny thing about that is, I’ve never actually met someone who wasn’t important in some way…”)
(Again, not very reassuring…)
The man in the mask gave him a huff of amusement. (“Let’s face it, be it as the kind hero retired, or the man hunting the damned eternal, regardless of what fate you choose you will always be of interest to me. As is every other species in existence.)
“So even if I live a quiet life for the rest of my existence you’ll still be keeping an eye on me.” He summarized, with the level of resignation that became typical of those dealing with the embodiment of all madness in the known multiverse.
(“Just this corner of it really.”) The man in the mask admitted as it drank a cup of tea through its full-face mask without spilling a drop. (“Because that would just be rude.”)
“Since this is you just checking in with me, am I actually going to remember this dream or are you going to make me forget it?” He asked, voicing the primary source of his apathy to this entire thing.
(“Really now, no need to blame me for the fact that your mind can’t handle staring into the entirety of madness.”) The immortal entity huffed. (“Humans, you make the abyss flinch once by meeting its gaze and you suddenly think you’re the peak of enlightenment, when really there are only a handful of you I’d let sit my pet Thulu.”)
He pointedly ignored all implications of that, as well as the fact he’d probably fall into that category if he asked.
(“Given how you’d be the first one over twelve to ask? Yes, I would.”)
“Look am I going to remember this or not?” He asked once more as he was beginning to feel the headache that came with prolonged madness exposure. (At least I’m not bleeding from the eyes anymore…)
(“Yes, you should be thankful for that.”) The man in the mask agreed. (“Though to answer your question, well… while you won’t remember, that isn’t to say what’s supposed to remember won’t remember either.”) The man in the mask admitted in its roundabout way as it looked you in the eye.
“Wonderful.” He sighed, wondering just how much damage this was going to do to his brain.
(“Oh, the standard amount. Though I feel it should be described as (heavy) psionic scarring, instead. Just rolls off the tongue better.”) The man in the mask explained, before looking down at the cup in his hand. (“Oh, it seems we’re out of tea for the time being.”)
“Meaning I can go?”
(“I suppose…”) The immortal entity beyond human comprehension pouted.
Scene Consequences
-The Mad Man Is Watching…