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Sitting back up, The Red Lady has a small tome in hand: black leather-bound, ornate, and decorated with exotic alloys you haven’t seen before. That sure doesn’t look like tin or copper; the metal doesn’t reflect the light of the fire- remaining mundanely dull and oddly transparent.


“Here it is, the Crystal Chronicles- a personal favorite. The compendium of hundreds of personal diaries and major historical accounts; written in this book are the individual lives and exploits of hundreds, the journeys of generation upon generation of adventurers seeking nothing but the safety of their homes amid a poisoned world… ” She wistfully recounts, eyes closed and imagining the scenes.

“…..not interested,” Spike immediately rolls off his seat on the mossy log and starts to walk away.

“…all of which rise towards their brave climax. The tragic ending to a crystal age of the once unnamed land…” Spike stops, his back towards his red Muse. It seemed the entire jungle had joined him, as even the wind seemed to hold its stormy breath in those several moments- intent in hearing this tale.
“Seven Stand at Shella,” the Red Lady’s voice echoes in the night.

Both Spike and the Forest remain statuesque for another moment, Red’s gaze rising to meet the man’s. Yet, a snore blurps out from the nearby tent breaking the crystalline atmosphere with a start. “I’ll pass, Red. I’m a tad too old for bedtime stories,” Spike quickly shakes his head while heading to his bedroll.

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“Well then,” the now alone Muse mutters to herself with a smile. The pitter-pattering of rain provides a chorus for her own sing-song voice as she gingerly cracks the old journal open. “Where shall we begin…”Endless pages flap and flutter in front of her face, before her own golden eyes snap to one.
“Here we are.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Q6ygqCwTIo&list=RD7Q6ygqCwTIo&index=1


>(Select Three)

>A remnant of a long dead empire; He stands alone. An ancient Lilty weaponsmaster kept alive through myrrh and the far-hope of a successor patrols the roads endlessly- some things never change.

>The Yuke alchemist who spends long nights staring at the animated constellations in the night sky. Around him shimmer the light of the crystal and the faces of family alike. For them, his masterwork, a better future for all, must be created.

> The Clavat youth, youngest of three, reminisces of village and family as her first crystal caravan leaves. She departs for precious myrrh and for closure, of her siblings who left long ago to never return. She will be the left the sole inheritor a legacy far greater than that left by her kin.

>The world is naught but a gauntlet thrown for the challenge, a bull to be broken, and a mountain to be climbed. They say youth is wasted on the young. The Lilty child will prove that big things come in small packages.

>The land is both hostile and lucrative to the homeless Selkies; any homestead built is temporary and any bond is separable on the search for a new tribal land. Alongside his cousin, yet another shall set out seeking name, fame, and a place to call his own amid the crystal caravan.

> Unlike most of her tribe, she was raised outside of the closed doors of Shella. Knowing nothing of their customs and teachings, she searches for answers in what is passed as the realm of impossibility. The Yuke will unwittingly will break the armored boundaries of her people, bringing a new era upon revenant wings.

>They called him and idealist and a dreamer. He simply saw another path. The Clavat sets out to search for common purpose and unity amid a toxic world. Praying to the tribes’ pantheon, an unexpected reply is given in a glittering wisp.

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(A forewarning, writing will generally take ~10-12 minutes on average)

>>40703523
>>The Yuke alchemist who spends long nights staring at the animated constellations in the night sky. Around him shimmer the light of the crystal and the faces of family alike. For them, his masterwork, a better future for all, must be created.
>>40703541
>> Unlike most of her tribe, she was raised outside of the closed doors of Shella. Knowing nothing of their customs and teachings, she searches for answers in what is passed as the realm of impossibility. The Yuke will unwittingly will break the armored boundaries of her people, bringing a new era upon revenant wings.
>>They called him and idealist and a dreamer. He simply saw another path. The Clavat sets out to search for common purpose and unity amid a toxic world. Praying to the tribes’ pantheon, an unexpected reply is given in a glittering wisp.

>>40703523
>A remnant of a long dead empire; He stands alone. An ancient Lilty weaponsmaster kept alive through myrrh and the far-hope of a successor patrols the roads endlessly- some things never change.
>The Yuke alchemist who spends long nights staring at the animated constellations in the night sky. Around him shimmer the light of the crystal and the faces of family alike. For them, his masterwork, a better future for all, must be created.
>The land is both hostile and lucrative to the homeless Selkies; any homestead built is temporary and any bond is separable on the search for a new tribal land. Alongside his cousin, yet another shall set out seeking name, fame, and a place to call his own amid the crystal caravan.

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>>40703815
>>40703798
Yuke Alchemist is a go.
Need a consensus on two more.

Oh my god, OP, you don't have the word "quest" in your subject field! Now someone is going to be upset on 4chan!

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>>40703849
my face

>>40703541
>>They called him and idealist and a dreamer. He simply saw another path. The Clavat sets out to search for common purpose and unity amid a toxic world. Praying to the tribes’ pantheon, an unexpected reply is given in a glittering wisp.

>>A remnant of a long dead empire; He stands alone. An ancient Lilty weaponsmaster kept alive through myrrh and the far-hope of a successor patrols the roads endlessly- some things never change.

>>40703541
>They called him and idealist and a dreamer. He simply saw another path. The Clavat sets out to search for common purpose and unity amid a toxic world. Praying to the tribes’ pantheon, an unexpected reply is given in a glittering wisp.
>A remnant of a long dead empire; He stands alone. An ancient Lilty weaponsmaster kept alive through myrrh and the far-hope of a successor patrols the roads endlessly- some things never change.

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>>40703967
>The Alchemist
+
>The Idealist
>The Remnant
It is.
Writing

>>40704003
This is like the most ragtag of all parties. We can't possibly fail!

>>40704034
I don't know about that. Thematically, it's pretty damn consistent: Hope for the future, and what is needed to achieve a future worth living.

>>40704098
Yeah, but this is crystal chronicles. So most of the time it's either a bunch of Yukes played for best DPS or Clevats and Selkies played for Dress Up.

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“The Brave Tragedy: Seven Stand at Shella,” she recites aloud to the eager campfire in front of her.

>“It all began one stormy night…..”
************************************************
>The Remnant: Geschalt

Your eyes flash open in cold sweat as the pouring rains part to a crashing strip of thunder. It’s only the weather.

Monsoon season in the Lynari Desert, who would have guessed. Especially since it only happens once a year.

With an accompanying groan from your armor’s metal joints, you stand stretch out your back and shoulders despite the creaking protests of the metal casing joined by a chorus from your own bones. With a final twist, you abruptly stretch to your full height, appearing much larger for a moment than your 5’0” stature would suggest in reality. Sighing, you whip out the crystal studded hip-flask and relax your sore body. Not even sleep seemed to erode the weariness anymore. In fact, it arguably made it even worse.

The several centuries of travel and battle haven't helped either.

“Ow.” Your own words bounce around the small sand cave you’d been catnapping in.

>Check about the cave for the rest of your gear
>Why were you here again?
>Take another moment to relax and rest, you'll make up double-time for it later
>Check the flask
>What's up with the rain
>Goddamn Selkies
>Write in (QM openly encourages write-in's, for future reference)

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>>40704123
>>40704034
>>40704098
It won't play like just Crystal Chronicles.
the story will crossover into other FF
because the original crystal chronicles was some shit narrative and plot wise

>>40704175
>Why were you here again?
>Better get everything out of the rain and ready for when you leave.

>>40704232
don't make it TOO blatant.

>>40704175
>Check about the cave for the rest of your gear

>>40704175
>>Goddamn Selkies
Goddamn Selkies.

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>>40704334
Just a fair (and only) warning.

>>40704175
>Why were you here again?

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>>40704334
>>40704387
>Why were you here again?

>>40704362
>>40704334
>Better get everything out of the rain and get the gear ready to go

>>40704369
>God, not selkies


Writing the above

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With a light tapping, you begin searching around the increasingly humid cave for your gear. In the corner, you spot a small haphazard pile of metal and cloth. Yup, that looks to be it; you were a lot more tired than you thought at first. Actually, you’d been starting to feel concerned about that as it had become a rather normal event recently.

The last skirmish you had was with a small clique of selkie thugs in that shambly scrap-town they built for themselves, Leuda. It hadn’t existed back when the Great Empire was still around- for good reason too. No guard captain or city-planner in their right mind would have willingly built a space festering with those vagrant, lazy people. The selkies only ever thought of themselves, leading them to lives of petty crime and greed. If it weren’t for the forced conscription during the height of the Last Emperor’s reign, they never would have pulled their goddamned fair share….
…and there they were trying to pickpocket your flask.

Collecting the heap of swords, mallets, occasional shield, and strewn items you grasp a new addition to the collection: a blue and green racket with a golden stripe across its belly. The robbers didn’t get your valuables that day. Lazy nature aside, you have to admit they had interesting taste in crafting. Not comparable to the smithing of the lilties, but interesting nonetheless.
+ Orichalum Mallet
+Richly Decorated Racket
+Three Mythril Blades
+A Heavy Mace
+Double-Bladed Golden Axe
+Throwing Knives
+A Shit ton of items (Phoenix downs, potions, food, consumables, etc)
+Magic Ring of Cure

Now, the poem read that it would be in the desert. The treasure of the Lynari Desert is close enough to taste amid the gritty sands usually chocking the air.
Wait, where is your lance?
Searching around for your favored weapon, you spot it lying outside the entrance to the cave in the rain, along with your helmet. You were in a bit of a rush it seems. Walking over to the blurred pile in the rain outside, there’s a tugging at your mind. Why does it feel like you’re forgetting something…..

>(Roll 1d20)
>(Average of 3, rounded up)

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>40704784

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>40704784

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>40704784

>No Selkie
I am supremely disappointed.

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>7
An offbeat rhythm in the dripping metronome of the rainfall catches your ear as you cross the small cave’s maw. Why does that remind you of-

Three giant winged eyeballs greet you, each easily as large as your entire body.

-flapping wings. That’s right, you ran into the cave mid-battle due to a crippling combination of boredom and mild arthritic discomfort. The Ahrimans didn’t seem too happy. In fact, if monsters had any mind of their own you’d say these ones were downright pissed. Maybe they’ll put up a half decent struggle.

The closest one dives! The two in the back seem to glow slightly, their main eye (and torso) closing in focus- magic. One glows pitch black while the other a neon red.

>Geek the mages (Which one, how)
>Dive to grab the lance, focus attack!
>Meet the charging Ahriman head on with your battleaxe!
>Let’s cause a racket
>How about a little parlor trick? THROWING KNIVES!
>Mythril Swords are expendable and deadly
>Heavy Mace to the face always wins
>Tackle it right back
>Write in

>>40704971
>How about a little parlor trick? THROWING KNIVES!
Big damn eyes, big damn targets

and while it loses proper tackling form,
>Tackle it right back
and use it as a meatshield for the spells.

>>40704971
>How about a little parlor trick? THROWING KNIVES!

>>40705032
Seconding.

3d20 average is dodgy to ask for, as it it usually averages out to a flat number across the board.

>>40705148
I'm looking at the probabilities, and it doesn't curve very much. 6d20/6 or 6d10/3 fare much better for consistent results.

Then it's just a matter of how you set the DCs.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0WdQDPRwb4

Big bodies only mean bigger targets.

With a sweep of the hand, the incoming Ahriman's white globe of an eye is marred by three stripes of it's own black bloody ichor.

With a scream, it starts to veer off course, eye twitching and flitting back and forth as it's wings uselessly flap in panic.

You take off with a leap and meet it midair in a metal-bonded tackle, eliciting another cry from its freely dripping form. Digging into its leathery skin with your gauntlets you hit the ground and roll with your new meatshield, stopping quickly in the wet sand just as the Ahriman's allies fire off a jet of red light- a laser- and a black, needle-like, inky bolt of energy , respectively.

Both hit your monster-shield: the laser instantly boring a hole in the membrane of its wing and the black bolt striking its injuried eye, rendering it a milky white- Blind.

The monster weakly screeches to whatever empty abyss its sight has been rendered to. It won't last.

Two more remaining.

>Lance time
>Mallet time, let's whack-a-ahriman
>The heavy mace can crush bone, as you've seen firsthand
>Mythril Swords are expendable: you can always get more: throw, duel, or hat-trick away.
>Racket time. Lilty-Ahriman is at 15-Love right now
>Waste flask on these small fry
>Write in

>>40705176
>>40705148
Last quest had a minimal amount of players, so I was forced to use 3d-anything.

A 6d20 system will be fine from here on out as long as there are enough participants

>>40705360
>Lance time
>>40705385
I meant more like 3 posts of 2d20. Even with 5-6 players, it's pretty hard to get 5 or so consistent roll posts.

>>40705360
>Lance time

>>40705360
>Lance time

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>>40705442
>>40705448
>>40705460
>Roll 2d20
>Average of 3

Rolled 6, 10 = 16 (2d20)

>>40705516

Rolled 15, 3 = 18 (2d20)

>>40705516

Rolled 6, 9 = 15 (2d20)

>>40705516

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>>40705524
>>40705543
>>40705546
>Rolls will always round up
>9
Releasing your vicegrip, you barrel roll through the sticky grit of the sand- right on top of your lance. Taking a deep breath, you relax....

...and pushing off the ground, somersault from your prone position. Transferring the energy into the lance's momentum, you release it as you reach the peak of your arc- launching it straight into the blind casting Ahriman like a missile.

Without a pause, you land on your feet and sprint towards the remaining enemy. A quickly hushed scream confirms the lance found its target, and with a quick flash you feel the familiar weight of your favorite weapon in hand.
Immediately ripping an uppercut with the bladed edge of your polearm....it outright misses.

The blurry shape of the Ahriman howls at you-wings spread- amid the pouring monsoon rains. You begin to feel the disturbingly familiar sense of exhaustion creep up on you. That strike should have hit. You know you swung center-of-mass on the monster's form.

The Ahriman flies back a bit and begins to glow red once again.

>Lance ending. F-F-FINISH HIM
>Mallet time, let's whack-a-monster
>The heavy mace won't miss a target that large
>Mythril Swords are expendable enough that you can just use them all at once without a sweat.
>Racket time. Lilty-Ahriman is at 30-15 right now
>Waste flask *sigh*
>You've got another 3 throwing knives, but the enemy isn't approaching you this time
>Axe Execution
>Write in

>>40705765
>The heavy mace won't miss a target that large

>>40705765
>The heavy mace won't miss a target that large

>>40705765
>Mythril Swords are expendable enough that you can just use them all at once without a sweat.

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>>40705765
Without a break you pace, you plunge the lance into the turgid ground and remove the heavy mace attached at your hip. You're closing the distance despite the Ahriman's backpedaling.

The monster's eye begins glowing an angry red.

Almost within striking distance- you ready your mace, free hand grasping the pommel.

The Ahriman's single eye bulges outward in a horrific display as the charging light reaches a zenith.

You're within reach of the 4 foot mace.

The Ahriman briefly flashes and a laser shoots point-blank into your person.

Yet, with a quick jerk and sidestep you've outright dodged it. You spin- conserving momentum- and windmill the mace in a sweep from behind you.....

...connecting with the Ahriman's wing, utterly pulverizing it. The weapon doesn't stop there. The veritable wrecking ball of metal continues through the broken appendage and digs halfway into the monster's body/skull leaving a prominent dent in it's wake.

With a squelch and crack, the monster doesn't even cry. It simply collapses, black ichor dripping out the corners of it's eyeball.

(1/2)

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Without acknowledging the beast's corpse, you turn back and collect your trusty lance from the ground. You stare into the expansive desert lay bare in front of you. Monsoon rains are collecting in small lakes and rushing down dunes in sandy rivers, collecting at lower elevations. You think you spot lightning striking a cactus in the distance.

"Lightning brings the cactus pain.
Now it all begins again.
Of crumbled inn few reminisce.
Its faulty beams will not be missed.
Lonely mushroom bursts to flame.
In the land that quicksands claim.
Three rocks await the winter's kiss.
One by one they meet their bliss.
In the end shall bloom a flower.
Sacred light reveals its power." Geschalt mumbles to himself.

You'd thought it was all but a children's nursery rhyme when it was told to you as a child. You didn't think it would have a basis in reality. The Black Lilty and the Clavat Merchant proved differently, however.

The rain will complicate this. Head aching in agreement, you take another swig of the flask and start marching.
****************************************

>The Alchemist
>The Idealist

>

>>40706157
>The Idealist

>>40706157
>The Alchemist

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>>40706180
>>40706200
Taking this as Idealist then Alchemist

>Writing

>The Idealist

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkyPFhZHfhg

The small wisp of light floats carefree in front of your face.
“Uh, I…what..” you babble out loud. You had been praying on the hill behind the village, alone. The other villagers would give you strange looks if they knew your beliefs. You worshipped the gods of all races combined, not just your native Clavat deities. Generally this would be regarded with confusion and distaste; how could the Clavat god of harvest and community, Orion, find common ground with the Selkies’ Jeht Ald, diety of luck and thievery?

They couldn’t see that all were parts to a whole- cause to effect. Yet, like the storm which had brewed suddenly around you, so did the tribes' jump at the opportunity to assert their individuality in this age of forced cooperation and myyrh seeking.

But, what was completely outside the realm of reason and sensibility was this thing in front of you. This wasn’t any type of monster your father had warned you of.

>"Hello"?
>Try to touch the thingy
>Just leave
>Pray, perhaps this is a sign
>Ask it for something
>Attack it
>write in

>>40706514
>"Hello"?
>Look around for any more wisps
>Look at the village if we're being invaded or something.

>>40706514
>"Hello"?
>Try to touch the thingy

You look over your shoulder across the hilltop. Nope, nothing else here. Rain drips through the thin leaves of the small tree overhead.

"H-Hello there," You blurt, "My name is Orion...are you a...monster by chance?"
Yep, good ol' pop named you after the Clavat god of harvest when you popped out of mom. It wasn't original, but names aren't meant to be; he simply wished goodwill on you the only way he knew.

If only the father realized how that goodwill would manifest itself the day before Orion left on his first caravan.

The Sprite bobs up and down as if laughing, before floating closer. You'll take that as a no.

It seems like it wants you to touch it? It flutters expectantly, pulsing impatiently with light every now and then.

"Um"

>What do?

>>40706514
>"Hello"?

>>40706696
Give it a good once-over and seeing if there are others aronud before touching it with a finger.

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>>40706696

>Write in
>Just touch it
>Get back to praying, ignore it. Wisps ain't nothing but hoes and tricks
>Try to just talk
>Go to bed, you'll need all the res you can get for the jounrey tomorrow. Not to mention you'll need to dry your clothing

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>>40706721
*rest
*journey

And this is why I take some time to edit

>>40706721
>Give it a good once-over and see if there are any others
>Have it follow you back home.

>>40706721
>Give it a good once-over and see if there are any others
>Have it follow you back home.

>>40706721
>>Just touch it

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You start to reach out your hand, single index finger outstretched. The sprite seems to lean forward in return. Centimeters before making contact with the warm being, you stop and make a once-over of the surrounding area.

Something is tickling the back of your mind. You need to finish your prayer after this and head home; it is obviously getting to be really late out and you're just tired.

Err....who were you praying to again?

"Titan? Yiazmat? No," You mutter in confusion to yourself.

A thin, ringing, bell-like noise startles your train of thought. The fairy is waiting frustrated and impatiently for you to close the distance.

"Oh, right. Sorry, bud," you apologize before lightly tapping the fairy on the forehead. Or wisphead. Or glowy-ness. You're not an expert on floating, sentient balls of light.

Abruptly, you hear a girlish giggle echo from the fairy's direction. "That was my nose!" it sqeaks at you.

"Sorry? Well, uh...it was fun, but I gotta go home now." You start to stand.

"Mio"

"Hunh?"

"You can call me Mio. It's nice to meet you, Orion!" the wisp peeps. That's right, you were praying to Orion, duh. How'd you forget that one.

"Well, Mio, I've gotta go home now and go to bed. I'm heading out tomorrow- "

"-on a crystal caravan!" Mio finishes with glee. "Sounds like you're gonna need some help." Th wisp flies over your head, bumping off your self-stitched hat in the process.

"Hey!" you protest as you whip around to pick up the hat. As you do, you notice the flittering sprite bundled inside the cloth. "Wow, this is comfy! I could get used to traveling like this," she nestles further into the folds of the hat.

"Yeah, perks of being the tailor's son," you say picking up the wet article of clothing.

>what do?
>Tell it to go away
>Bring it home
>Fuck it, bring it on the journey
>What time is it again?
>Ask it? (write in)

>>40707031
>Introduce self
Well, you seem to know me already, but I'm going on a crystal caravan for the good of the village.
>Get the wisp to give a more thorough introduction while heading home.

>>40703401
>FF Quest
>All chibi pics and other gay shit to remind me of how Enix raped my childhood
Fuck you everything you like is terrible

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>>40707172
Down, boy.
New and different things don't bite, despite what you may think.

>>40707031
>Ask the wisp to introduce herself more thoroughly
>Why made you hang out with me?

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>>40707145
>>40707268
More thorough introduction/explanation and head home.

>Writing

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Picking up your hat, you brush it off.

"I'm putting on my hat now."

"Hmm? Yeah, Okay" the wisp half-mindedly burbles as it basically makes its bed. With a sigh you flip the hat over and put it on.

"Wooow! It's so WARM up here!" you hear the sprite chirp as it ruffles through your hair."It's like I'm in a jungle!"

Ignoring the last comment, you start down the hill and back home with new friend tagging along. "I take it you're tagging along, then?" You ask the hair-fairy.

"Of course!' it briskly replies.
"Okay, but I should at least know more about you, like: who, why, how, and everything else." You idly remark as you pick up small pebble being washed away in the drainage of the rain.

"Sure," you hear an audible squeak of breath inhaled from above," I'mLadyMioI'magoddessofmemoryandImakemyrrhandI'mheretocheckonthecrystalsandmyMyrrhTreesbecausesomethingisusingthemup" She blurts out all at once.

"So you want to repeat that SEPARATELY this time?"

"No!" she cheerfully states.

This is going to be an interesting trip.

***********************************************
>Finally, the Alchemist
>Writing

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>The Alchemist

Screaming,
A green flash,
A grand council of Yukes.

The rotting shell of a town,
the shattered crystal,
the movement from the bushes outside.

CRASH

The clap of thunder pulls you from fevered dreams, awaking you with a jolt. You are lying with your head on your workbench, where you’d been tinkering around through the previous night. It seems you never left, however. Your suspicions are confirmed when a complete lack of light greets you from the window of your workshop- still night it seems. No light, excluding the lightning that is, you note as another flash and rumble flies about the outside world.

A passing ball of light briefly flashes in the shadows outside- ball lightning? The storm is rather odd. You hadn’t felt any increase in the barometric pressure throughout the day, usually it gives you heavy migraines. It is almost as though something is raging.

You look out the opposite side of the workshop where the window is that displays your house. Inside it, your daughter rests her troubled head. She has been under much stress since the village council unanimously decided to send her among those in the next crystal caravan departing tomorrow. You're worried. The last one came back with only 3 of the original 6 members. The Clavat family down the road had lost the second of their children on yet another crystal caravan.

You feel a brushing of fur around your leg.

>Check up on the work, no time to waste.
>"Hey Kjata, come here."
>That ball of light was strange
>Check on the daughter, she's all you got now
>Review your notes
>Lean back, catch your breath, and think of Shella
>Write in

>>40707596
>That ball of light was strange
Take your daughter too, investigating strange phenomena is going to be her bread and butter, soon.

>>40707596
>Check on the daughter, she's all you got now

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>>40707634
>>40707649
>Check on daughter + investigate the storm phenomena
>writing

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Ignoring the passive affection of your pet Mu, Kjata, you stand and exit the shack you call a workshop. Before the door closes you can see Kjata jumping onto the chair you were sitting in moments prior and curl into a fuzzy ball.

Hiking over to the house, you anxiety progressively grows. You''ll have to finish your project before the caravan's departure in the morning. She can't leave without the special item you're creating for her. Still, you can only hope you've trained her well enough for the coming days; you took to teaching her magic personally, who else would? You even forged her first retaining armor, a task normally only reserved to only Shella's elder smiths.

In the sparse, yet mildly cozy house you stride over to your daughter's room. "Mydia, are you awake?" You quietly call while knocking twice. The lack of response gives a hard no to your question.

Treading inside, your daughter, Mydia, is asleep under the covers.

>Wake her up, this may be one of the last moment to practice magic with her
>Inspect the storm (with/without her)
>She reminds you of her mother
>She looks peaceful, safe even. You should finish the project to keep it so.
>Write in
>Just sit and relax, take a breath for moment and simply take it in

>>40707959
>>Wake her up, this may be one of the last moment to practice magic with her
>>Inspect the storm (with

>>40707959
>>She reminds you of her mother
>>She looks peaceful, safe even. You should finish the project to keep it so.

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>>40708051
>>40708004
No consensus?

>>40708051
>>40708004
>mix and match, writing

>>40708191
Voting to let her sleep. She needs her rest.

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You take a quick glance outside Mydia's bedroom window. The storm still blusters outside. Strangely enough, when the next flash of lightning strikes you can see a figure on dawn's hill behind the village.

"Mydia"
"MHhhhhnnm" grumbles something under the covers.
"Mydia."
"whaaat," moans out from the sheets.

"Wake up for a minute. We're testing something."

"Simon, I need to sleeeeep." Mydia croaks in protest.
"You'll not call me by my first name, young lady," Simonides scolds.

Unintelligible noises come from the bed.

You can't help but shake your head. She always did take after her mother more than you, albeit a bit less high-strung at times.

Lightning crashes in a crescendo outside the bedroom window, causing Mydia to jump up startled. "Okay you win, dad. Just please don't use lightning spells again." she stutters out.

"I'm not, there's a storm. You're need to practice your magic one last time before leaving. C'mon, I'm coming with you."

She gives you a dirty, tired look before trotting out of bed and grabbing the mallet next to it.

Minutes later, you're outside the house. Lightning flashes around in arcs among the swollen black clouds in the night sky.

"Now, Mydia,...."

>"Thundaga!" You'd given her your personal rin of thunder a minute before. Plus, the natural thunder will add to it
>"Fire!" She will need to be able to cast spells in potentially unfavorable conditions
>"Watera!" A rainstorm is the perfect environment, combined with your ring of water
>"Protect!" A personal endeavor and invention, you created the protect bangle a year prior.
>"Slow!" You'd managed to briefly glimpse into the powers of time magic, forming a ring with it's simplest inherent properties
>Write in, be reasonable

>>40708494
I meant more to investigate the storm rather than to harness. Since the others don't want to bother her too much:

>Just observe the storm, meditate on its raw power and ponder what is causing the storm.

>>40708494
>"Watera!" A rainstorm is the perfect environment, combined with your ring of water

>>40708601
>>40708565
>>40708494
>writing

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"Watera!" You bark through the pouring rain.

With barely a grunt, your daughter flourishes her mallet as though it were a conducting baton. Drawing circles in the air, rain begins to collect in the areas as if magnetically drawn. These airborne mines continue to hover and grow in size when finally the girl spreads her arms wide.

"Watera!" she cries out, bringing her hands together. With a clashing pop, all of the bubbles quickly implode and subsequently burst outward in pressurized streams.

Mydia continues this as you begin pacing towards Dawn Hill, where you saw the strange figure in the flash of lightning. What is causing this storm anyway? You haven't seen ball lightning since the single incident at your workshop window. Not to mention a storm like this completely out of the blue...

You'd only seen similar situations when you lived in Shella. They conjured storms like these artificially as defensive mechanisms against invaders or monsters.

With a whiff of the air around you, you smell it. It's not your daughter's, either.

"Magic. Myrrh." you confirm, looking up on the hill to see the same figure, recognizable as a Clavat boy, illuminated in another flash of lightning.

You recognize him, the tailor's boy.He was a strange child, never seemed to fully get along with the other Clavats. You'd occasionally seen him and your daughter chatting.

>Practice more (what?)
>Check up on the kid
>Talk to daughter (about?)
>Bring daughter to bed, finish the project, pet Kjata
>Write in

>>40708863
>Stop practice. Check up on kid with daughter.

>>40708863
>Check up on the kid
>Bring daughter to bed, finish the project, pet Kjata

>>40708921
>>40708888
(Just made a messy as fuark gyro, got all over my computer. My bad on the wait)
>Writing

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You find yourself pondering a bit too long before another crashing pop from behind your breaks the trance.

"Mydia," you call out. She abruptly stops, bubbles of water dissolving into raindrops in midair. Her free hand finds itself resting on her hip, mallet lazily swinging at the side.
"What do you want now, dad," she mouths off.

You give brief pause. You can't just say, "Hey, let's go investigate that one boy who talks to you," and expect it to end well. She'd not forgive you for ages. No...

You point towards the hill,"let's look at some constellations together. Father-Daughter bonding, you know?"

She grunts and wipes off the perpetual stream of precipitation running down her helmet. "If this is your idea of bonding time, you're going to make me glad I'm being forced into a death trip for crystal juice."

You stop.

"Mydia..."
"Don't Mydia me, Simon." she snaps back. "I'm done with our little night walk. I'm ready for you to lose me in the wilderness like you did mom. Maybe then you'll finally have the peace and quiet to do your work."

"Mydia, That's not it at all! My work isn't for me, it's for you!"
"Keep it- I don't want it. All I need is sleep, DAD," she finishes before walking back to the cottage alone.

You sigh, what went wrong this time...

Treading up the hill, you see the Clavat Boy actually approaching you from the opposite direction- going home. It looks like he's talking to himself....

always was a strange kid.

"Oh! Hey there Mr. Simonides!" The Clavat jumps with surprise at seeing you approach, having to grab ahold of his hat to keep it from jumping off. The hill smells of myrrh.

>Did you see the ball of lightning, Orion?
>How has my daughter been recently? Has she said anything to you recently?
>You don't know magic by chance, do you?
>What are you doing up here, boy?
>Nice clothing
>Write in (?)

>>40709237
>>How has my daughter been recently? Has she said anything to you recently?
And the Most Incapable of Communicating Affection award goes to....

>Strange weather, boy. It's curious, the air smells of....myrrh. Thought I'd have a look.

>>40709237
>Did you see the ball of lightning, Orion?

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>>40709540
>>40709406
>writing last post of the night
>will continue on this thread if it's still around tomorrow afternoon

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"Ah yes, Orion. I have half a mind to ask what you're still doing up at this late hour. Did you...happen to see a ball of lightning?"

"A...A ball of lightning? Nope! Nothing of that sort, sir!" the poor boy's teeth are chattering, you realize. Not everyone has armor to brace themselves from the elements.

"I see. It's strange," you continue while looking towards the hilltop,"the weather that is. The air,too. It smells of myrrh, oddly enough. Thought I'd give it a look." you conclude.

"Wow, you smell myrrh? You must be a talented mage, Mr. Simonides. But, no mrryh here. I'd know!" The boy laughs to himself, "After all, it'd keep me from having to go on the next caravan."

You watch as Orion's hat nearly falls off again. "Not that I don't want to!" he corrects immediately,"in fact, it's a great chance to meet the other tribes and villages. Maybe we can even find new friends, who knows?" You offers while adjusting his hat. The boy has a bright mind, you'll admit that.

"Indeed? About the caravan, Orion," you say as you start walking past him towards the grove as the top of the small hike. "How has.... my daughter talked about it recently? Has she said anything to you?" You manage to ease out the words with a level voice despite the growing pressure in your own throat.
"Oh, Mydia? She uhh..." he hesitates for a minute before continuing, "she isn't sure what to expect, Mr. Simonides. She told me you were going to make sure she wasn't going. Is it true?" he looks at you expectantly.

You stop for a minute, your throat tightening for a moment before you can loosen up a bit to choke out, "No. She will be coming to look after all of you. Take care of her for me, Orion, will you?"

"Oh," he remarks, a bit stunned, "yeah, sure guess. No, of course! Yeah, I can't wait to travel with her." he enthusiastically blurts. "Well, I gotta head to bed now. Hope you find that ball of lightning, Mr. S!"

With that the tailor's boy trips and plods down the rest of the muddy hill.

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Climbing to the top of Dawn Hill, you notice the rains have ceased altogether. Stranger even still. There just seems to be event after event you can't comprehend tonight. Maybe you're losing it.

Staring up at the dissipating clouds in the night sky, you begin to see glittering pinpricks of stars overhead. Aries, Gemini, Cancer- all slowly reveal themselves as the clouds part.

If only the rest of life was as simple as the constellations- everything revealed, shining clear as day. A line here and another line to the fiery point there and you've made a celestial masterpiece- simple.

It hadn't been your choice to volunteer your daughter. In fact, the council of elders had nearby forced you to. You had owed them for taking you in after your exile from Shella.

Still...

"Mydia....I'm sorry." you plead to the open, starry sky above you and, for a minute, you think you see Cancer weep a single shooting star.

**********************

Discussion time before archiving or tomorrow's continuation!

>opinion of it so far
>any feelings on the matter and direction considering it's crystal chronicles?

>>40710194
Mixing the choices isn't always for the best. I get the idea of getting making sure everyone has an input, but some things, like >>40708863 are mutually exclusive.

The point was just as much to teach Mydia about studying strange phenomena as much as it was to actually look at said strange phenomena.


So uhh, take care when to mix choices and when to just roll a die or something.

As for the story itself.....mmm, multiple POV stories....

>>40710194
QM Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheRedL4dy

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OP still alive, archiving in a minute

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any further questions, feedback/comments, or thoughts? If anyone could bump periodically until this afternoon, I could return and continue with the other 4 characters.


>>40710237
I'll generally try to mix inputs unless I have enough individuals to make a solid consensus, but you have a point. Taking this to heart

Multiple POV seemed obvious for mulitplayer games like CC. Glad to see it was the right choice!

>>40712650
>OTHER 4 characters
I was about to advise not to, but....that could work. This reduces the archive wall needed to understand the current story, but knowing what happened with prior characters allows a meta understanding of the story.

It's going to be a bitch to archive everything per character, though.


Just doublechecking, but was inquiring about the "ball of light" actually going to be useful? I mean, he's not going to ignore the myrrh after losing the time to make the project just because of a half-hearted deflection by Orion, right?

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>>40712921
>>40712921
If the choice wasn't made to upset your daughter by getting her to practice magic in the middle of the night, Simonides wouldn't have been so halfhearted and distracted.

Though one detail was slipped, the immediate and direct relationship of myrrh to the "ball of light" (Mio).

You can always learn a lot of things while playing through each character's POV. But, choices matter as always.

On another note, Simon does go back to work on the project post-self pity