Every year, the warlords slay dozens of individuals too dangerous and unstable to be allowed to exist within society; many of which are talented and ambitious individuals. I founded the Lockdown to provide an alternative, a means by which these individuals can still be of use. A haven of enlightened study, where the scientific exploration of magic is king! Yet it seems I should have been more careful; in a matter of days you’ve somehow convinced the faculty that I am no less of a danger to civilised society. I won’t resist it, for I can’t bring myself to destroy such a beautiful place, but you must understand one thing. No-one and nothing is truly invincible, and it’s only a matter of time before I find your blind spot.
Signed, Magus Jindosh.
* A letter in Headmistress Hoplix’s trophy cabinet.
Tuesday morning, just after midnight. Vreem POV.
My soul itches and shivers as I stalk through the sewers, paying little attention to what direction I go as long as it’s away from Deepvein. With how many metaphysical hooks and markers I found attached to it, presumably by Hoplix, nothing shy of effectively ‘skinning’ my soul and scraping away the protective outer shell was sure to secure my freedom, however temporary. By morning, one of the undead staff will find the note I left for Hoplix- no reason to make that creature think I’m forsaking my pact.
Regardless of why, I’ve reached an all-time low. My body is starving and exhausted since my fight with Ashtrunk, my soul is vulnerable and bruised. I couldn’t even afford to properly adapt my eyes to the dark; I can barely make out silhouettes. I could solve both of those problems, but I haven’t encountered a single rat since I left Deepvein, and I don’t have time to go hunting properly. I need to find the meeting point somehow, I need to find materials for the ritual, I have to prepare for the worst in case the Way of Things prevents the ritual… A silver lining in all of this is that perhaps I’m too weak for the Ways to apply. That thought makes my mind ache, and I’m almost glad to be thinking with my flesh instead of my soul; it keeps those painful thoughts from hurting my soul too. The downside is that I’m slow to react, so when I hear footsteps behind me it takes almost a second for me to turn around and see five silhouettes turn a corner I walked past.
“Greetings! I must say that you look rather lost. Would you like some help? Directions, food, an escort perhaps?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The voice is as smooth as silk; I feel it gently brushing past my soul, reaching into my brain and soothing the pain. Something about this feels wrong… but then again, I know I’m rather paranoid. And didn’t Ashtrunk say something about my brain and soul wearing each other down? They offered food too, which I desperately need some of- I’m at most a few hours away from needing to start breaking down muscles for fuel.
“I would greatly appreciate food, especially live meat if you have any. And regarding directions, I’m trying to reach-”
“13 Gretgar? What a coincidence! I was just heading there myself. And I’m sure my friends here can source some meat, although I can’t guarantee it’ll be live. If you’d just follow me, you were heading in the wrong direction; I had to track you by something as crude as your footprints!”
And before they turn around to lead the way, followed by the other four figures who move in perfect unison, I feel my soul start to prepare me for a fight. I can’t imagine why, though, these five will protect me.
Tuesday morning, just after midnight. Jindosh POV.
It’s wonderful when a plan goes smoothly! I expected ‘Vreem’ to be considerably more resistant to psionics; that’s why I brought Marks 4 through 7! I’ll have to investigate that during the dissection. Then again, this plan didn’t involve my unwitting nemesis: the general public, so catastrophically unpredictable and inconsistent! I always seem to overestimate them as I did when planning the Summer Plague, the 7th Street Massacre, and other such experiments. No matter, today is the start of a new chapter in my life. Typically, it’s easiest to let those traitors at the Lockdown think they can contain me, but when I saw the company that Mark Nine was keeping I just had to do something! Even if my latest and greatest experiment is having a rebellious phase, the utility of having a hidden scrying beacon on the outside is just too useful to risk it being damaged by a telepathic brat. As far as I can tell, the warding seems to still be working, but I can’t rely on last resort measures like that. It still took almost a week to get out, a marked spike in difficulty since the last time. Regardless, the Arken family is extraordinarily wealthy, and if I repurpose whatever meeting ‘Vreem’ was trying to set up then I could walk away from this with a king's ransom- or would it be a princess's ransom? Noble’s ransom? Enough funding to last me years! Funding for tools, a biomancer for spare parts, and a telepath as a new experiment. Perhaps if I get some proper feedback from Nine, I could maintain control of the experiment without compromising its autonomy?
Despite the darkness, odour, and general unpleasantness of my current environment, my smile is as bright as the future!