The Violet Skies of Pa’Rill – RHETORIC

An Interactive Adventure

Starring Milo Pulsar, Shaula Bluestar, and YOU

You are on page RHETORIC.

(Return to page PRAECIPULA)

“Peace,” you murmur gently, as whatever-that-is jabs you again, sharply enough to pierce the weave of your robes and prick at your skin. You flinch- you can’t help it, with something like that so close to your wings- and curl your wings defensively around you. “Please,” you plead, stifling the panic before it enters your voice, “be gentle.”

A pause. You wait a long moment, then slowly relax, furling your wings once more against your back. You hear a slight shuffling closer; then, a tentative touch on the membrane of your wings. You stiffen at the over-familiarity and toss your head in indignation. “Really!” you begin, your luminescence flaring as your temper sparks.

The creature shrieks and stumbles back; startled, you spin around to find your would-be attacker cringing and shading its eyes against your light.

“Oh,” you breathe, understanding flaring like a sunspot, “Morlocks.”

The creature is slightly shorter than an average human, with grey furred skin and large red eyes that it is currently trying desperately to shield. You quickly bank your light, dimming that blue shine out of consideration for the cavern-dweller’s vision, adapted to living deep beneath the surface.

The Morlock recovers quickly, but takes a moment to draw in a deep breath before regaining his feet. You take that moment to study him; his scant clothing appears to be a simple wrap of dark fur, but the complexity of his spear makes you reassess your initial impression of barbarism. Banded in at least three different metals, the spear boasts not only the long hooked bayonet point that recently made its acquaintance with your back, but an impressive energy lance behind that point. You are no expert on energy lances- the laser whip is far more common as a personal weapon- but you do not doubt that at point-blank range, you would not have walked away from a blast.

“Do you speak the human tongue?” you ask gently, once he’s regained his composure. He looks at you  blankly, and you sigh. “This is one for Milo,” you murmur to yourself.

* * *

“Milo,”  you call out as you pick your way across the cavern floor. “I need you to-”

“Shaula,” he interrupts, “it’s a good thing you’re back. I studied that fur you found, and it’s not good- a very big, very mean sort of native cat thing… wait, what? You need me to what?” He blinks at you owlishly.

You sigh patiently, and touch the runeglass light orb, dimming the light to a very faint luminescence. “I need you to make a translation spell,”

“Huh?”

You gesture behind you, and the Morlock hesitantly steps out from behind a boulder, one hand still hovering near his eyes to shade them if necessary. “A translation spell,” you repeat yourself, amused at Milo’s surprise.

“This planet hosts Morlocks?” Milo asks slowly, his voice rising in excitement. “That wasn’t in any of the information… but then, it’s traditionally quite hard to tell, as they live so deep under… and don’t use much in the way of magic, preferring tech and… well Shaula, this is incredible! Do you think we could-”

“Translation,” you interrupt, laying a finger on Milo’s lips. “First things first.”

“Right.”

The Morlock watches with intense suspicion as Milo flips through his Tome, squinting to read in the low light. “Need to slap some darksight on us too,” he mutters to himself, “but first… ah, that’ll do.” Standing up straight, he speaks a long incantation, of which you catch only a handful of words. He finishes by laying a single finger firmly on his throat, resting it in the hollow at the base of his neck; then on yours.

“How do we know if it’s working?” you ask Milo.

“It… is working,” the Morlock grunts, and this time it’s Milo who’s amused at your surprise.

“Greetings, dark-dweller,” Milo nods to him. “I am Milo Pulsar, Wizard and Champion-Errant of the Order of Paragon. My partner is the Lady Shaula Bluestar,” he laid a hand gently on my shoulder, “and this is Tau.” He nodded at the tetrapteryx, curled up on one of the warmth-runes and half-asleep.

The Morlock narrows his eyes suspiciously. “A Wizard here. Hrmph. I am Khen’urgh Hornfel, of Ecloghen Hold.”

“Khen’urgh,” you try the name. “It is a pleasure,” I nodded.

He merely grunts in acknowledgement, still eyeing Milo suspciouisly.

“Listen, Kenny,” Milo plows on, ignoring the silent hostility. “We really need to get off this planet, but between the unstable mana fluctuations here and Tau’s broken wing, we aren’t going to do that very quickly without some help.”

“It would be best,” Khen’urgh says slowly, his voice sounding like rocks rolling around in a tunnel, “if you left quickly. This planet is bad for Wizards.”

“Then I’m going to need some answers,” Milo says grimly. “Because I’ve got just buckets of questions.” The Morlock nods; Milo looks over at you. “Hm, where to start?”

Where, indeed?

Turn to page QUERY.

(What is this madness,  you ask? Read this blog post for more information.)

One Response to The Violet Skies of Pa’Rill – RHETORIC

  1. Pingback: An Interactive Adventure « Astroarcane

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