It was night time in the City of Ash and it was alive with revelry.
Every table in every bar on every street corner found itself packed with the smelly, sweating, and ravenous patrons one would expect for a night like tonight; for tonight was a night unlike any other. Today marked the anniversary of the horrid War of the Breech many centuries ago after all.
The patrons dug into their food with a rabid intensity as onlookers waited anxiously for their meals to arrive, jealously alive in their eyes, while the rest of the crowd drowned themselves, mug after mug, with the various alcoholic drinks available; mostly mead and Something Else, a local favorite. The floors looked as if they were assaulted by the God of Decay with half-eaten chickens and gods-knows-what else littering the floor while bile and unknown liquids poured forth like a torrent of awfulness. This was expected. This scene is one that many a soul has traveled to be seen. While in normal times owner would be appalled to see the state of his bar, the bartender looked on with a smile on hand for today was the day everyone celebrated, and nobody was upset. Unless of course, you knew better.
No one alive today experienced it yet the stories are still told, albeit seldom spoken in whole, by the bards and by the elders. They spin a tale of monsters of flesh and metal stalking the country-side, whole armies annihilated by great beasts of war, and of the gods returning to the mortal realm, saving us in our darkest time. They know the stories of many a great hero, many that died and fewer yet that lived, that helped curb the tide of the assault on the mortal races. They know the stories of all seven gods that still reside in our realm, placed in fortified temples where they have kept the shield up that prevents the creatures of nightmares from returning. They also know that today was never a day of celebration. Today, to them, is a day of remembrance. Remembering the errors of the all the races that led to the Breach, the errors of commanders who led their soldiers to slaughter, and the greed of the many who prayed on the few still living during it all. Today they remember and look on at the parties with a stern gaze and speak a cautionary tale to those who will listen.
It was such an elder who found himself sitting on a famous corner, deep in the heart of the City of Ash, judging the crowds from a distance. As he sat, he was approached by a young man in search of a tall tale. The man towered over the frail build of the elder, though he approached with a smile and asked if a seat next to the old man was taken, to which the old man responded no.
"I hear you know a story or two about the Breach Wars, old man," the towering individual asked as he sat down.
"Old man," the elder asked, "I'll have you know I am no older than your parents may be, are they so old to you?"
"I meant no disrespect, elder," the towering man said with a chuckle, "I am a student at the great magic school at Itos, and I and my fellow classmates have traveled far to this city to hear the tales of the war. I have been told you know a story or two, and I would like to know where we went wrong in the past."
"Not interested in the parties," quizzed the old man.
"No, especially not if I can learn something to tell my friends back home," the towering man responded.
The old man smiled weakly and pulled his posture straight as he did. "Perhaps there is hope for you youngin's after all," he responded with a wink. "Alrighty, this is a story of heroes who did not know they were such at the time, a story of the gods who gave up their immortal life to shield us, and it is a tale of the common folk who banded together and saved life as we know it. They came from all walks of life, some of the noble pursuits and some not, while the gods themselves were our most holy. The war was terrible in all accounts, but I will start my story off at where we started winning, right here in the City of Ash, three-hundred, and thirty-three years ago. The gods, now walking among us, used their divine powers to seal the breach and thus ending the never-ending flow of nightmares that stemmed forth like a raging river into our real-,, " the old man paused as his head tilted to the left, "realm, that started," pausing again, this time standing up, "what is that awful ruckus?," the old man stopped speaking.
The towering individual turned his head, the same direction the elder did seconds before, and listened. "Heyyyyy, I am soo not drunk guys – Where's my food – where are we- what did – for – somebody needs to -I think you've – did you grab my – what is the mean- how oft- wherein th-" The more the towering man listened, the less he heard and the less he understood. He turned his attention the old man, who was visibly shaking, and asked; "what do you hear old man?"
"Don't you hear it? The screaming," he answered back.
The towering man listened again, and this time he heard it; growing louder every second he did, the sounds of people panicking and shattering objects, blood-curdling screams that filled the nights' air only to be silenced, and he listened as it was getting closer and closer and closer. "Stay behind me elder," the towering man shouted as he stood up and his hands erupted into flames, "I will protect you," he promised. Though promise he did, the towering man's voice was soon added to the melody of screams, as the chorus of horror began to fill the air and erupt throughout the City of Ash.
From miles around people could see the fires that raged that night, and even further could people see the plume of smoke that trailed over the horizon the next day.
A few days later the city Arcadia, located fifteen miles away, was attacked and destroyed. Then Sev’mo, and then Barin, and so on. Soon there-after reports of a new, smaller than the one told of in the history books, Breach was received by the Council of Seven, and the armies of the mortal realm were quickly mobilized. Any questions as to how this could have transpired under the watch of the Gods were quickly answered, as a God was missing. Without notice Rofella, Goddess of War, had vanished from her temple and disappeared into the night. With her disappearance, the shield that protected our realm waned until it broke allowing the Breach to once again return; albeit in reduced effectiveness. As the main armies mobilized to surround and fight the monsters of flesh and metal, a plan was quickly put in motion. The Seven Kingdoms would each send a small force led by one of their best commanders to find the missing god.
Time is of the essence. For with each passing week, the other Gods grow weaker as the strain of maintaining the shield has increased. With each passing day, the enemy pushes closer and closer to their temples. With each passing hour, smaller Breaches open all across the countryside. The dawn of the apocalypse is here, and the fiery inferno of our end times have arrived.
- - - - - - -
The Basic idea for this story:
We are going to play the role of a Representative for the Council of the Seven, sent in to find the missing Goddess and bring her back. As the name suggests, the Council is the seven major Kingdoms that inhabit our world. The council was founded during the War of the Breach to coordinate all the armies under one banner. For all intents and purposes, the War of the Breach was a war fought against a supposed demonic force that nearly destroyed life as we know. It took the combined efforts of all the races, as well as the return of the gods, to stop it and save life as we know it. The Council of Seven now serves as a mostly diplomatic body that's the primary goal today is to prevent large-scale war between the major Kingdom’s. It is now transitioning to a more military-focused group, as all the finest commanders have rejoined its ranks to coordinate the new war.
Our characters, the representatives that represent the Seven main Kingdoms lead the search for Rofella. Guided with her faithful weapon that yearns to be reunited with its master, our group sets out and faces challenges that threaten the fate of the world. This is a story where real death can happen to player characters if called for. The world is ending after all.
Setting for the story:
This will be a high-fantasy, though potentially dark, story. Standard fantasy-style races and subraces are the races, with some wiggle room for creating non-traditional ones as well. With that being said, I don't want anyone to go too crazy with potential races.
The gods of our story:
The seven major gods of our story are Rofella, Vel’Dia, Ardur, Calim, Guurut, Haliopecia, and Yamthurr; each currently resides in the mortal realms in their “mortal” forms. While weaker, the gods and the Goddesses are still much stronger, faster, and smarter than most mortals alive. Their powers are weaker in our realm; however, they are still strong enough to use their divine magic in projecting a shield that has protected our realm since the first Breach was sealed. While their primary focus in our world is to maintain the shield that prevents the return of the monsters, their temples have become destinations for all who seek guidance. While getting into the temple cities are hard enough with the thick walls and protective nature of their guards, it is possible for the mortal men and women of all races to visit their deity's in the flesh.
Rofella: Goddess of War and of Peace
Temple Location: Arnafell (Arr-nuh-fell): Kingdom of Aurr
Rofella is the Goddess of War and all battles. In the mortal realm, she stands at a minor height for a god at seven foot three inches tall with a lithe, feminine frame that fills in nicely. Her ears reflect that of an elf, with sharp-pointed tips. While many are quick to make assumptions about her status as Goddess of war from her form alone, make no mistake about her skills as a fighter. Lightning-quick strikes and breathtaking agility in combat, Rofella will waste no time in disposing of any and all that challenge her. When a commander goes to her temple to seek advice in a military matter, she offers guidance on how to win a war or how to prevent the war from breaking out; her advice is usually very useful in either scenario.
Vel’Dia: Goddess of Life and of Death
Temple Location: Langren (La-na-gen)
Vel’Dia is the Goddess of Life and death. Her form in the mortal realm shifts depending on the person viewing her. To those young in life, she appears to be a hooded, sick-looking, witch with wispy white hair and sunken eyes. To those who see her in this form, a sense of dread and uneasiness washes over them like a river over a rock. To those old in life, she appears to be a sweet looking young lady with long blonde hair kept in a ponytail in the back while wearing a long, flowing, white dress. To those who see her in this form, a calming sense surges through their body like they are meeting a friend or a loved one after many years apart.
Ardur: God of Magics and the Arts
Temple Location: Magiee (ma-gee)
Ardur is the God of Magic and the Mundane. In his mortal realm form, Ardur is the shortest of the God’s standing at a height of just six feet tall. His attire is a simple white robe with an equally simple hood that falls way too far down his back. While every form of magic is known to him, he will very rarely divulge his knowledge to those that flock to him for information. Magic is a gift, something that needs to be learned through trial and error in the mind of Ardur and much too dangerous to be taught to those who have no notion on how to control it. Magic in the hands of a vengeful vagabond leads to tragedy while magic in the hands of a trained wielder rarely does.
Ardur will also turn away any who come to him for assistance with whatever questions or comments relating to their art. To him, art is not about the final product before you but rather the journey you went on creating it. Furthermore, as experienced over the years, those that come to seek his advice are not true followers of his message. His followers will instead gift him their art, be it a painting or a song, and expect nothing from it but the applause of a grateful god.
Calim: God of Chaos and of Order
Temple Location: Anvialia (Ahn-vale-ya)
Calim stands at a staggering height of twelve feet tall, making him the tallest of all the gods. Clad from head to toe in thick, steel armor with one eye dark as the darkest night that flows out of his helmet like a thick dark fog while the other is as bright as the sun above that lights up his temple. His frame is that of a dwarf, with his legs and arms being short and stocky while his chest exudes muscular bravado. His mission on the mortal plane, besides keeping the shield up, is to maintain balance on the scales of justice. Too much order in the world means too many laws which leads to a repressed populace while too much chaos leads to strife and uprising. Calim sees no guests in his court but instead uses his rather large following to do his work for him. If Calim senses the scale is off balance, he will send his followers to do his bidding for him.
If an area slips into an ordered mess, he helps incite the change in the populace. If an area is slipping towards a chaotic upheaval, he uses his followers to help guide the area back into the right. The world as a whole has become more balanced, and in Calim’s eyes, that’s how all things should be.
Guurut: God of the Sun and the Moon
Temple location: Solune (Sol-une)
Guurut stands nearly eight feet tall. During the day hours, his appearance is one of fiery fashion, with vibrant reds and yellows being the predominant theme while a loud, boisterous personality embraces all who come near. Parties as legendary as time has seen have taken place in his temple, with copious amounts of both alcohol and foods being consumed. Though as night rolls around, his appearance instead changes to more somber colors. Black and a dark blue color scheme wrap his body tightly during these hours, while a mellow and often sad personality pushes away any who come to see him. It is in these hours that people find that they have a chance to reflect on who they truly are in the temple.
It is during both dawn and dusk, do the two sides of this coin mesh. His appearance is a clash of purple and white, and a calm personality emanates forth. Those at his temple during these hours have a chance to reflect on what they truly want.
Haliopecia: Goddess of Love and the Mad
Temple Location: Nebuoste (Neh-bu-o-stay)
What you bring to her temple is what you see with Haliopecia. Newlyweds flock to her temple in droves to get the blessing of the Goddess, which she happily doles out. The couples are treated to pure white, pristine marble tiles on the floor with drapes flowing in the wind as a faint, but the identifiable scent of nature drifts through the air. Her followers will treat you with kindness and respect, and Haliopecia herself will give you her blessing for a life full of happiness and love.
The Mad who come to her temple is treated with a far different sight. Here, their madness is made physical. The voices that whisper to you before are now on full blast, the visions of things that could not exist are made physical, while the thoughts that you knew could not be true are confirmed. The pristine marble tiles are broken and covered with dust and the drapes that effortlessly blew before are tattered and torn to pieces. The smell of nature is replaced with that of brimstone. Though this is not without its purpose. Her temple allows your inner madness to be made real to gradually, over time, be cured. The insane, the broken, and the mentally unstable who find refuge here face the brunt of their demons with the kind hand of the Goddess herself guiding them along their path back to sanity.
Yamthurr: Goddess of the Wise and the Fools
Temple location: Intebunie (In-teh-boo-ni)
Yamthurr stands at the height of nine feet tall and is cloaked in a simple, black dress that flows behind her as she walks. Her temple is filled with endless amounts of scrolls and books, depicting the history of the world from when the Gods arrived in the mortal realms, to the study of all the known plants and animals; if it exists as a book or scrolls it is somewhere in her temple. Scholars flock to her temple to find information on their subject at hand and most, if not all, are left feeling empty as they leave without finding a shred of knowledge that they needed. The Goddess, and her followers, allow any and all to enter her halls and to seek out the knowledge they seek yet she rarely gives it freely.
A wise person, in the eyes of the Goddess, seeks knowledge and knowledge alone. Her followers read and read, and when they are finished, they read somemore. Random books and scrolls are grabbed from the shelves and placed on the tables, where they are examined from start to finish. Those that come seeking specific knowledge are met with books and scrolls that never seem close to their area of study, no matter how much of the library they search. A fool’s errand for the fools.
History: War of the Breach
Four-hundred and forty-four years ago, the War of the Breach started in unceremonial fashion. Near a major city in the depts of the strongest empire known at the time, the first Breach opened between or world and another. Strange creatures, descriptions long since lost to time, began to slowly emerge and engage the populace in brutal combat. The empire deployed its military might against the strange enemy, one said to be of metal and flesh. Initially, the army had success in their endeavors. Through trial and error, they found ways through the armor, into the flesh and they backed the creatures back towards the portal and encircled it. Somehow, they even managed to close the breach.
For the next few decades, the Breach never appeared again and the empire chalked it up to demonic magic gone afoul. The commanders stopped training their soldiers on how they initially sealed the breach, stopped telling their populace on what to do if there was another Breach, and started to forget all of the lessons paid for in blood decades earlier. Meanwhile, the empire spread further and further in their conquest of the realm, expanding their borders many miles in all directions as they waged a perpetual series of wars out of envy. When the breach returned, a century later, and three times as massive as before, they were caught off guard and with their pants down. Towns were overrun and burned to ruin as countless garrisons failed to defend their population. Armies were simply cast away by the never-ending horde of enemies that spewed forth from the abyss.
The enemies of this empire, sensing weakness while also underselling the threat of the Breach, began to push back and started to invade. In the five-year-long struggle that ensued, the Empire had set up an effective perimeter around the sight of the Breach, retrained its soldiers on how to kill the beasts, and was in the process of driving them back when her mortal enemies struck a killing blow. Three separate factions had captured the food-producing areas spread out across the Empire, depriving their soldiers of the sustenance they desperately needed to keep up their strength. As soon as famine broke out in one small section of the defensive lines, the monsters exploited it. As they routed the Empires' best soldiers the monsters quickly spilled out of the containment and began to flood the countryside. They fought too many wars in times of strife, and it led to their downfall.
The other kingdoms quickly learned of the grave mistake they made as the horrors from beyond descended on their own soldiers. At every battle and every skirmish, their armies were massacred. The other kingdoms quickly came together as one and banded under one banner, led by the remaining seven most powerful kingdoms. It was decided that they would create a defensive line, centered around the City of Ash, and make one final, triumphant stand against their foes.
History is a bit unclear on what happened next. Some Kingdom’s claim their prayers for help were answered while most others assume the Gods took pity on their creations and came to our aid. What is clear, however, is the effect they had on the situation. Their arrival brought with it the shield that now protects us to this day at the start. Every Breach that had sprung up in the decade long fight had quickly closed within seconds of their arrival. Secondly, the God’s began to use their abilities to both teach and equip us mortals with the tools to fight. Ardur gifted his magic to those who could handle it, Rofella gave her strategies for battle to the generals who would listen, while the other God’s focused on healing those that needed their help and bringing balance to the world.
Within a year, the fighting was over. The cost to the mortal realms was great, with the surviving population for all races being vastly lower than where it was even a few years prior, yet the mortal realm proceeded to usher in a new golden age of which we are still prospering from.
`Excerpt from the book “The War of the Breach”
Kingdom of Aurr:
Primary races: Dark Elf - Human - Dwarf
Situated as the farthest most Kingdom of the Seven, the Kingdom of Aurr inhabits a land that is under constant assault from the elements. Cold, snowcapped peaks dominate the landscape that host a hard, but sturdy people. The Kingdom as a whole came together when Rofella chose the fortress city of Arnafell as her temple. Quickly, the numerous warring bands that inhabited the mountainside fell under the banner of King Aurr himself, who used Rofella’s guidance to great effect. There are few major cities in the Kingdom, with Arnafell being the largest. Instead, there are numerous smaller style towns carved into the mountainside dotting the landscape.
To their north serves an enemy as old as their kingdom, the Wild Ones. The Wild Ones are a large faction, with a standing army that is estimated to be half as strong as the combined armies of our own. They worship demonic forces and are twisted in both mind and body. Every year, they send an attack through the mountain passes to try and break into the Kingdom of Seven, but every year they are repelled by the Kingdom of Aurr; whose mountainside fortresses and large standing army are trained to fight in the harsh conditions.
With Rofella’s influence seeping into the core of the Kingdom of Aurr, the people have changed as a result. Warlike in nature, the people will always seek to end the enemies that threaten their safety before they can strike. Though if there is a way to keep the peace without bloodshed, the citizens of Aurr will always explore that option.
Current information about our enemies is scattered at best. The reports from the front have spoken of monsters of flesh and metal, with varying descriptions. Our enemies seem to be sentient, and unique in their actions. Though the history books have the information in the temple at Intebunie, Yamthurr has yet yielded those books to scholars or tacticians.
How magic works in this RP
Magic works on a similar system to that of strength in this RP in the sense that the more training one has, the more powerful they can become. On the same note, there are rare prodigies that are naturally good and whos power can rival masters with less training. The magical talent would reveal itself to the mage at a young age in a way that is reminiscent of their magic. A fire mage would create sparks or accidentally burn something while a force mage would levitate or move something. Early on the power of the mage would be highly unstable so seeking out proper training is a must for any would-be mage. Most temples have training in place for such mages, and their usage of magic often reflects the style of the temple.
Magic use drains stamina. Prolonged use of magic in a short period will tire out the mage, much like a warrior in battle. Furthermore, over-casting is a real problem that mages are taught to avoid. A mage can break through exhaustion and keep using the magic, but it comes with the aforementioned risk of over-casting. Over-casting is a fatal condition where the magic of the user consumes them, often detonating in a grim explosion in relation to their power (a fire mage would be consumed by flames, a force mage would be crushed into the ground, and so on and so forth).
Here are a few ideas behind the magic themselves. There can be different variation on each. You can use whatever form of magic within reason, so if you wanted to create a water mage or something new, let me know and we can work from there.
Fire magic is, in essence, as the title suggests. A mage would draw from their latent magical abilities, focus it, and unleash a variety of different firey spells. A young mage may only be able to send sputtering sparks, a more advanced could summon a torrent of flames, while a master would be able to direct it in a focused and tight beam. The result, however, would be fire all the same.
The fire could only be controlled as it exits the arm. Its destructive powers know no equal. The fire magic can burn through structures, melt armor, and ravage whole sections of an enemy's formation. Yet those who want to master the inferno need to seek control of themselves. A fire mage who lacks it can cause significant harm to both themselves and everyone around them.
With a lack of control, comes a lack of restraint. A fire mage who burns too bright runs the risk of their magic consuming them. When a mage sends forth their magic, their hand cracks and gives way to lines that glow vibrant colors of red and yellow. As their magic use prolongs, the cracks spiral and spread, heading up their arm. As it reaches their elbows, their magic begins to take a toll on their health. Every burst darkens the skin around the cracks and saps the strength of the mage. In turn, the flames dull with each cast, and soon enough, the mage will be on the verge of losing control. Their arms looking more akin to charcoal at this point, the fire magic will burst forth from the mage, consuming both the caster and all near.
The fire that burns the brightest burns the shortest. A fire mage is taught this from their earliest lessons. Therefore, if a fire mage wants to survive the horrors of war, they must learn to control the inferno, and act strategically, to starve out the fire.
An adept fire mage will be a gentle but powerful force. They will strike when the moment is right and save their magic strength when it matters the most.
Force magic is magic that can control or manipulate objects. It can move a sword into someone's side or remove their helmet to open up a new avenue of attack. Force mage's power range must more dramatically than the other magics. A novice may be able to nudge an object along, whereas a master could life a whole battalion off their feet and crush them in their armor. Though the force mages found on the battlefield can do something in the middle. They can often lift a group of soldiers off their feet, but that would require them to expel a great deal of their magic. Instead, most force mages work in tandem with other mages to supplement their strengths, such as launching pots of flaming oil into enemy ranks.
A force mage can manipulate most objects. They can fling a spear with high power, throw rocks and boulders, and even fight a swordsman with a levitating sword. Force magic is seen as a jack of all trades type of magic and is seen as less skill-intensive than a fire mage. Make no mistake, a force mage that masters their magic is a mighty mage who can control whole battlefields.
There are limits to this magic. If a mage tries to lift an object that is too heavy or exerts too much power on a throw, they run the risk of running out of magic and even the magic consuming them. Much like a fire mage a force mage will show signs in the forms of cracks that form in the palm of their hands and spread outward and up the arm. The cracks are a grey color and seem to pulsate with the beat of their hearts. If a mage uses magic as their stamina drops, they run the risk of their body subject to the same force they are exerting. Sometimes a leg will snap, or they could be forced to the ground. Exert too much magic after this, and the spell can consume them, crushing their bones and collapsing their chest.
Standard humanoid fantasy races and subraces.
1.) No controlling another players character in any shape or form. Pretty standard but it has to be said.
2.) Combat is usually free form, meaning that you can write your character killing most enemies. Sometimes I will throw out specific or special enemies that you cannot kill so simply. We can either write a collab post or possibly roll a dice to determine the success of the fight and/or action.
3.) Stupid decisions can lead to bad results. Don't charge at the enemy alone. Your character can die if there are repeated offenses! Per rule 2, combat is free form but that does not mean charge at 10 enemy soldiers and expect a good time.
4.) Our enemies called you stupid, are you gonna take that? Write me your response when you post your CS so I know you have read these
5.) No arguing in the OOC, take it to a PM or to discord.
6.) Have fun!
Hello! I am a whale that just came into existence out of nowhere here to try this again. A few months back I attempted to bring this into existence but with a few health issues, and IRL going crazy at my place of employment, I had to put it on hold. I am back and ready to lead some brave idiots through hell and back.
The chaos of the Reclaim washed over S'venia, and it's roar nearly toppled her as she stumbled into the side of one of the many buildings that lined the streets.
Why didn't you try to help and- you were there, the people ne- you just ran, you FU- they neede-
"Shut up," S'venia thought to herself as she shifted her weight onto the building. She pulled her hands over her chest as she leaned to the side. The events of yesterday still stymied the thoughts of doing her job today. Expected at the clinic fifteen minutes ago S'venia had only made it halfway across the district. The memories of yesterday still weighed on her mind. She was close enough to hear the bomb go off, and her drone could see the people in need. Yet she did not turn back nor did she rush to their aid. She stood in her spot, mouth wide, as she watched the video feed come in. She saw those who were injured, some critically, and she did nothing. Why didn't she do something?
Her eyes shifted to a store in front of her. Her reflection stared back, though it was not very clear. The thick grime of the reclaim air clung to the shop's old windows, placing a filter over the reflection that stared back. Her shape was there, but something was dirty about what S'venia saw; it was someone she did not recognize. Her lips trembled, while tears began to well in the corners of her eyes in the window. She looked scared, afraid, and beaten down. She finally had her first test to help the people, and she had failed.
You could have ran ba- when are you gonn- where was S'venia wh- you think you can le-
The thoughts came once again and washed over her yet she did not silence them again. She listened. In the window, she watched as her lips curled, and her tears came forth. Who had taken her peace of mind? Someone had attacked her city, her people, and had called her out. They challenged her even. S'venia felt a rage rise in her the more she stared into the mirror. Whomever this terrorist was, they would need to pay.
She slid her glasses off her forehead and over her eyes. She unwrapped her computer and opened up a program. The smell of the putrid Reclaim air fell over her as she did but she made no attempt to cover her nose nor hide from the fusty stench. Typing quickly with her free hand, she had a message ready to be sent.
With a tap of a button, S’venia closed the application. She would need to trade a secret to get this one. Her eyes drifted back to her reflection in the mirror. She forced a smile, but it was one that was betrayed by her eyes. They were pushed all the way open, and their gaze burrowed through the glasses. "Whoever they are, The Truth shall set them free," she whispered. Taking a deep breath S'venia closed her eyes before she exhaled slowly. As she opened them once again, she removed her glasses. The window stared back at her still, but she was back. Honest smile, eyes that welcomed you in, and a sincere look that made S'venia approachable. She closed her computer and used her free hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen. She had a job to do, and she was late.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After traversing the district, S’venia found herself at the clinic. “This is S’venia once again coming to you live, currently at the Baolei clinic. As you can see,” S’venia paused as she stretched her arm outward, the video followed as she did, “there are many here seeking help.” She paused as she returned her arm to her side. “I am going to see if I can get some interviews started with the monks and those who are receiving help, stay tuned! Let's head on in,” before turning on her heel to face the entrance. The crowd was only growing, filled with the tired and desperate masses yearning for relief. What relief was Dao offering?
S’venia found the timing between the lack of Neurosynthase and the masses flocking here to be suspicious. What relief could meditation and tea bring to someone's mind that is breaking apart at its core? What relief were chants of kumbaya when the mind turned against the body? There was nothing that S’venia knew of that could cure what these poor souls faced besides the drug, outside the sweet embrace of death. There was something going on here, and she wanted to see what this brand of compassion could accomplish.
S’venia took off at a slow pace towards the front of the clinic, before finding herself in front of a monk. “Hi,” S’venia said as she flashed a smile and a wave, “S’venia Skor, press, with the South City Blues.” S’venia paused as she grabbed her press chip and extended it for the monk to check. “The city is enamoured with the charitable work that you all are doing here! If it’s not too much trouble I was wondering if I could get a glimpse at the good being done here today?”