Let's Play The Spirit Engine 2

[prof]

<< | ^^ | >>

Chapter 6: On Top of the World

Part 2: Self Esteem Team

That's right. Why do you ask?


Because your climb will eventually see you crossing paths with the Count, one way or another. The slopes are his now, and he won't take kindly to tresspassers. And because you look capable of doing what needs to be done.


We, the town, have a favor to ask of you. None of the others will dare talk about it to outsiders. They're too frightened - of the Count, of each other and of what they've done.


I don't believe in murder. That's why I had no part in this originally, and why I feel free to speak to you here. But what's needed now isn't murder but mercy.


Mercy? What's happened? What are you talking about?


Can you see that ruined, blackened manor up on the mountainside? That's Castle Cristoff, home of the Cristoff family for twelve generations. THey used to own the land about here, until five years ago.
You see, Count Cristoff was a harsh man. He gave little love and received little in return.
In the winter of 728, word reached us that he was planning to sell the land upon which the town is built and strip the valley for mining.
THe original lease was made to a distant ancestor of Cristoff, a kinder man who wouldn't have dreamed of selling the earth out from beneath the feet of his tenants and leaving thousands homeless.
There was panic in the town, anger and despair, and from it something dark was born. Something that now haunts more than just our dreams.
One bitterly cold and windy winter night, as the Cristoff clan assembled for their annual dinner in the Castle, a mob of townspeople marched through the snowdrifts up the mountainside to surround it.
They brought torches and kindling wood. They barricaded the mighty oak doors shut, piled wood around the windows, and set light to it. Within minutes, the flames had spread to the roof, and the castle went up like a glorious bonfire.
You could hear the screams of the Cristoffs from down here in the town. Four generations of the family perished in that fearsome inferno, leaving naught but ashes and brick.
Lady Cristoff was the last to die, so rumor says. She leapt screaming from an upper floor window and ran away into the night, a flailing, blazing human torch.
They never did find her body. Doubtless she came across a ravine and, Godwilling, the fall finally killed her.


Merciful Karvey, that's horrible. The entire family? How could anyone do such a dreadful thing?


I make no judgement either way, young man. When the authorities came round to sift through the wreckage and ask questions, I stayed quiet, for the good of my neighbors.
Everyone did, and with no proof of any wrongdoing and the Cristoff line dead, ownership of the land reverted back to the Government.
That one wicked act bought the townspeople and their children five more good years in this place.
Until now. Superstitious fools used to say they heard Lady Cristoff wailing on the high winds late at night. Now something more tangible and more dangerous stalks our village. Her husband has returned.


The Count sweeps down from the mountain at night to attack the town. He's killed eight so far, maimed twenty and injured or scared witless many more. We cannot look to any official authority for help.
I suspect that the beast sleeps during the day in the ruins of his former home, but none of the townsfolk have the courage to go near that place again.
If you could surprise and slay the beast, you would be doing us a great service.


You're asking us to risk our lives to cover this town's crime? For what these people have done, perhaps they deserve such a fate.


Aye, it was a wicked act. But force any man into a corner as the Count did, and he is capable of terrible things.
If you think not of them, then please, think instead of the children who do not deserve to suffer for the sins of their parents. Either way, you may have little choice if you want to reach the Institute.
The Cristoffs used to hold the Master Turnkey to the bridges they built on the southern slopes. Early one morning this summer, the town awoke to find them raised and locked. You can guess who is holding it now.


So you want us to do your dirty work for you? Are you people really having so much trouble fending off a five year old corpse?


The Count is far from a corpse, young lady. He waits between the grave and the land of the living, no longer human. He has become a monster, the likes of which I fear even you three may not be able to handle.


We shall see about that if and when we encounter him. We appreciate the warning and shall consider your proposition, sir.


That is all I ask. Thank you kindly.



Equipment!

Let's get moving.




Oh hells no. I thought we'd gotten rid of these people. Denever, you idiot! You told me those things didn't exist!


To my knowledge, they don't. I have no idea where they've gotten these stones from. In fact, I shudder to think. I'm sure it wasn't legal.


We stand ready to receive your next order, your Darkness. Let us strike against the fascist forces of authority! Let us spread chaos in your name! Let this cruel world burn!


No, no, no! This has got to stop! You can't keep following me around like this. I have more important things to do, and surely you must too. Aren't your parents worried about you? What are you all doing here?


You still question us? Have we not proven our worth? We are here to serve you with our lives, oh Queen!


Wrong answer! What makes your lives so unfulfilling that you would want to give them up to me, of all people?
You! Fat kid in the cowl! What possessed you to tramp all the way out here to find me? What is your problem?


Me? I am a wretched worm, your Darkness. I am weak and pitiful.
Every day, Gunner Jones reminds me of this. He beats me up at school, laughs at me and takes my lunch. Then he and his friends eat it in front of me. One day I failed to bring lunch and they took my shoes instead.


And you let them do this? This boy does not fear or respect you?


No, your Darkness. As I said, I am what Gunner calls me - a wretched worm. He is six foot tall and twice my weight. I was hoping that you might smight he who would lay hands upon your most loyal subject...


Smite him? Hah! You have been woefully misinformed. I am only a little less powerless than yourself, dear boy. I have spent the last few years coming to terms with this.
I feel your pain. Like me, you are becoming something new and unknown, a slave to your biology. The process is confusing, frightening, even disgusting at times.
You look outward to gain some validation. But you mustn't look out, Morbior. The world is not a mirror and you are not a reflection.
In times of uncertainty, it is natural to reach for the comforting grip of power. But the young Mr. Jones mistakes power over others for power over his own circumstances.
He is a clumsy amateur who has played his hand too soon. In tim, the world of opportunities will close its doors on him and repay him in kind.
but patience has never been amongst my virtues. That's why, the next time you prepare your lunch, Morbior, you're going to poison it. Let's see how tough this boy feels when he's chokingo n his own innards.


Going to what? Whoa, hold on now. No more talk like that, Ionae. This is a matter for the school authorities to handle. He needs to find a responsible adult to resolve the situation.


You want me to go to a tutor? But that'd be telling! I'll look stupid.


My solution is far more elegant, Denever. Permanent, too.


And highly illegal. This is terrible, Ionae. These people are looking to you for guidance. You have a responsibility to lead them wisely.


But I don't even want them here!


Very well. Do as he says, Morbior. Be devious. Use the system. You had the right idea in seeking help, but you should have looked closer to home, to those who genuinely care about your well-being.


Y-Yes, I see. I will try, your most maleficent Darkness.


My name is Ionae. And get up off the floor, for pity's sake. You kneel to no one.


Did you really all come here to serve me? Or like him, do you need something from me? Speak up!


I-I'm failing at my studies, Ionae. I was never any good at math. When the winter exams come round I'll fail, and my stepfather will make my life unbearable. I was hoping that between now and then, you might... burn down my school?


I'm in love with this girl at the market, Ionae, but she thinks I'm dirt. I need you to make her like me somehow, or my life isn't worth living! I need money. I need style. I need some kind of hypnosis.


No, you have to help me first, my Queen! Please, take me with you. I'll go anywhere, do anything! Anything else.


Enough! All of you! This is giving me a headache. I can't give you what you need. I'm sorry. I can't even offer you good advice.


I'm not what you need, for vengeance, for escape or for direction. You came to me looking for something to give your lives to when instead you should be looking to yourselves for something to live for.


Go home. Find strength in yourselves and each other. Fight against adversity if you can, smile against it if you cannot. DOn't retreat from life. It's a more beautiful gift than any of you realize.


And cheer up, for goodness sake! You're depressing me, too. Now go! Make the best of what you have.
But... leave the gems. Your Dark Queen still needs those for the resale value.


She's right. I should never have put on this cloak. I shall be Morbior no more! From now on, my true name will once again be... Holbert! And I'm going to tell on Gunner Jones and his friends.


I'm not so sure I want to war against the oppressive forces of conformity if nobody else does. I'm going back. I have homework to do before Mornesday.


We should never have come all the way out here when the problems we need to face are still where we left them. We've made fools of ourselves.


Come on, Dirk, cheer up. Would you like to find somewhere to buy lunch instead? I saw a nice-looking tavern on the way into town. I'd like it if we could go there...




The poor things. They're not so different. Alone, afraid, changing. Trying to find their purpose in a world that doesn't care. Sometimes I think I have it hard, but then I realize that I've never had to do this as a child.


Childhood isn't all bad, Ionae. For better or for worse, for all the uncertainty and the angst, they ought to be the best days of your life, when life is an open road ahead of you and you have the chance to be who you want to be.


Oh really? That must have been why I skipped it, then. It all makes sense now. Bastards.


...



Next: Climbing the mountain!


<< | ^^ | >>