The multitude of voices kept pitch and time as they belted out the age old hymn. Light filtered through the stained glass and over the concourse, illuminating the congregation in a vivid array of pastels. Kijin sat off by himself in the shadows, content to skip out on some of the more religious overtones of the current scene. The architecture mirrored reality here in a way he could not help but admire. Gothic and Renaissance notes pricked at his knowledge of real world history and drummed up images of Notre Dame de Paris, and of the Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence. Early churches had some of the most intricate and beautiful designs made by man. This particular cathedral managed to do them justice. Thanks to the system, he was able to pick out bits and pieces of the sermon through his base knowledge of languages. It seemed that this particular event utilized some that would require further learning, however. What he did understand amounted to "the gods bless our bountiful harvest," and "glory be to those who toil." It seemed a simple enough message for the Autumn season, and fairly uneventful. Where the words trailed off into obscurity, so did his attention. The Bloodsworn plucked at the hilt of his weapon, inspecting the wrap that formed its grip. Several other people noticed him and promptly shifted away. The Clergymen in particular were not fond of weapons during service. "Young man," came a harsh whisper. The red robed deacon made to grab his arm, and Kijin stared up at him. "You need to leave," the fat, gray haired man hissed. "This is a blessing for the harvest, and a time for the people to give thanks. Violence and chaos will displease the God's, and-" He stood, slowly. "I was just leaving," he replied. Those who toil. On the surface, the messages seemed harmless. Coupled together with the information he came to follow up, the two verses alone we're incriminating enough. Kijin slipped out the doors and into the city streets, flicking open his menu to send a message. Hidden: Magdalyn @Magdalyn Rose I found something I think you'll like. Remember the farmers that went missing several weeks back? I'm getting warmer.
Stokbon was a city that both fascinated and horrified Magdalyn. The fascination stemmed from the tall buildings, fast pace, and air of mystery that shrouded the busy streets. What shady deals were taking place in the shadowed doorways? What sorts of people called the place home, camped out above sweet-smelling restaurants and in foul-smelling alleyways? What kind of trouble could she get herself into? It was also the tall buildings, fast pace, and air of mystery that horrified her. Because, you know, the same questions. As such, the blue-haired player experienced Stokbon in abbreviated stints, only spending a day or two among the crowd before scampering back to the relative calm she preferred. It was silly, perhaps, considering the molasses-in-winter pace of her real-life hometown. Even the city she now occupied enjoyed a slower approach, leading one to wonder why she did not care to experiment more in Stokbon. The truth of the matter was, in her mind, that she liked what she liked. She was laid-back, and liked others to be as well. And maybe that made her a one-trick pony, but that never bothered her any. If that pony's one trick was impressive enough, why did that have to be such a bad thing? His message had interrupted her daily stroll through the fields, which was enough to dampen her mood. Magdalyn found great peace in wandering the land owned by NPC farmers, occasionally pausing to ask them questions, or provide them aid. One day, she would own her own farm. But not if she kept being pulled away. Still, she had to be thankful for the opportunity to explore with another player. She had joined the game to make friends, after all, not morph into some ranch-owning hermit. Besides, the notion that he might have information regarding the missing farmers was enough to quicken her characteristically slow trudge into an uncharacteristically brisk walk. She was even panting a little when she reached him, her typically blue eyes blazing orange, a sign that Investigation Mode was activated. She slowed when she saw him, leaning casually against the church's exterior wall, waiting for her. "How warm are we talking here?" she asked after greeting him, referencing his initial message. "Because it's going to have to be 'summer in Texas' to get me in that church."
He remained against the wall as she spoke and a small smirk tugged at his lips. Kijin couldn't blame her for any amount of recalcitrance toward the church, or any other number of holy organizations. In the world actual, large religious entities were as large a source of corruption as major corporations. Their influence was fouler still, because it could sway hearts- something even the most passionate politician could rarely do. Here, inside Terrasphere, there seemed to be marked parallelism. His red gaze shifted slowly to the girl and he greeted her with a slight bow of his head. "I've done adequate research into the interior for one day," he told her. "What I've heard mostly delineates this as the season for harvest, and their praises- what I understood with my limited knowledge of the world's languages- and various prayers dealt with anointment of the farmers and crops to the gods." Kijin stepped away from the building and glanced skyward once, wary of stray bolts of lightning from on high. His mother always warned him about that as a boy. When he was convinced there was to be no holy vendetta against him, he proceeded with his explanation. "More specifically, the words followed to the tune of, 'glory be to those who toil.' In my experience, when the verses have referred to glory for anyone, it involved a one way ticket to the afterlife, a la your generic, Necrodestiny oriented Messianic religions." He held up a hand. "I know it's stretching, but stay with me a moment. The Clergy are notorious for acting behind the scenes and outside of the view of the Congregation. Especially with something as important to the well-being of the city as the harvest on the line, I don't think it's unsafe to assume that the disappearances are related somehow." Kijin took a few steps past Magdalyn and pivoted on his heel to face her once more. "It's a lead, if nothing else, and we can ask the farmers about their relationships with the Church. That might set us on the right track."
Her arms crossed, weight propped on one hip, Mags regarded her companion with an expression of mild interest. That mild interest evolved into concern, and then full-fledged annoyance, by the time he concluded. "I don't think its stretching," Magdalyn countered, shaking her head when he had finally fallen silent. "I'm a history teacher, remember. Considering the history of organized religion, I'm not about to put anything past a church. Especially a church in a fictional video game." For a fleeting moment, she felt it important to explain herself. Was that a side effect of being a teacher - the intrinsic need to cover her own ass? Or was it simply a deeply-ingrained character flaw? It was not that she hated religion. On the contrary, Mags considered herself a believer in... something. Some mixture of karma, a higher being, and "thou shalt not be a dick to others." And she believed whole-heartedly that everyone had the right to believe in their something too. But it was the way the organizations themselves behaved that set her teeth on edge. She had her reasons, which, upon further reflection, she did not need to share with Kijin. This is Terra, Mags reminded herself. And you're not Lena. So start acting like it. So she leveled her eyes on his, letting them default back to their usual, icy blue. "I say we follow up. No reason not to, and you know I'm game for anything that leads us back to the farmers. But I came all the way out here, and I'm lazy, so I don't want to go straight back. While we're here, we might as well check out the church again. I'll feel the place out myself, and if we end up with matching bad vibes, we'll head back out. Sound good?"
He gave a half shrug. Kijin disliked the idea of going back inside, especially after the Deacon had chased him through the doors less than a half hour prior. He doubted seriously that the system was that hyper aware of faces, but caution was preferred to jumping headfirst into trouble. Then, aside from the matter of Clergymen hating Malefimancer, there was the matter of the Guard to consider. "If that's your move, then I suggest we split up," he announced, indicating one of the side facing entrances to the cloister. "We can make our way up to the second level and discuss options once we have something concrete." He pointed up, along the outer wall of the cathedral and indicated the windows. "Several of those should be open, or easy enough to open. I doubt seriously that if they catch me a second time, they're going to let me walk about the door." He patted his blade idly. "But I'm not about to disarm myself for their peace of mind." Kijin waited for a moment to hear anything Magdalyn might have to say on the matter. After all, he was out of ideas- she might have a good one to compensate.
Magdalyn studied the man for a moment, then gave a shrug. "Suit yourself," she told him, "but I think you're a little too dependent on that pointy stick of yours." Her own weapon was not even equipped, as she preferred not to bother with it until her skills were improved. If Kijin was as new as he claimed, she wondered how much more advanced he was. Why did he insist on being armed, even in the heart of the city. Was it paranoia, or did he know something she did not? Regardless, she turned away from him, only pausing once to call over her shoulder. "Enjoy breaking into the church." She, on the other hand, would rather walk through the front door. Churches made her skin crawl, and if it were not for the missing farmers, she figured she would avoid the building all together. Considering that, she decided she would waste no more effort than necessary to enter. Long strides carried her into the place of worship, but she had not yet reached the first line of pews when the deacon was upon her. "May I help you?" the bald man demanded, voice breathy as he attempted to assert authority into a whisper. Magdalyn smeared on her most pleasant smile, letting it light her face with the same cheer as the sun through the stained glass. "I am just here to give thanks, sir. I am a farmer myself, and this is a very important time for me." He eyed her, suspicion and pleasure making an uneasy marriage on his face, as easy to read as one of her textbooks back home. "I see," he answered after a long, pregnant pause. He gave a slight nod of his balding head, and though she never felt his eyes leave her, he moved away with his robes swishing about his feet.
Her approach, while far more tame and orthodox, offered several advantages that Kijin's own antics deprived him of. Namely, haste: Magdalyn was through the door and moving about the building in a matter of minutes. The swordsman sidled through alleyways and between narrowly spaced buildings until he found a scalable wall, and only then could he begin his ascent. Every so often, he managed a peek through the stained glass as he climbed the first story and edged his way toward the open, drafty windows. Each of those times, the rosy tint denied him a decent view. He frowned at the overly difficult nature of his effort, but remained conscious of the alternative. When he finally slipped through the half-open portcullis, he was rewarded with a full view of the cloister, uninhibited by the crowd. Contact with his ally here was limited. He could not tell where the woman stood among the crowd, nor if she were in danger. His red gaze skimmed the crowd, searching first for operatives of the clergy, then for Magdalyn. If he could chance to overhear a conversation between two men of the cloth in secret, well- That would give him an even better feel for the situation. Kijin watched the stairwell that led down into the cloister below as candlelight cast shadows along its walls. The ominous sound of footsteps sent a shiver down his spine, and each time they sounded close, the corridor drew his undivided attention. Until at last, he heard voices.
Moving slowly, so not to attract to much attention to herself, Magdalyn eased into the back pew. There was not much else for a person to do in a church - or, at least, she assumed. She had never been one to attend in the real world, and the irony that she was passing her precious Terrasphere time in a place of worship was not lost on her. But she remembered the mission, remembered the farmers, and pumped a bit more passion into the smile she wore. If she hoped to learn something from the church, and the people who resided within it, she would have to keep up the facade a bit longer. Fortunately, the NPCs did not make her wait long. The churchman from before returned, his hands clasped in front of him, his bald patch shimmering just the slightest bit in the light cast by hundreds of candles. Even though the sun shone through the enormous windows, the flames danced and bowed, high and low, all across the massive space. Provides a certain je ne sais quoi, Magdalyn mused, with some humor. Behind him, a man who was similarly dressed moved in a similar fashion. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier," the robed man began. "My name is Deacon Rolf. This," he motioned to the man beside him, "is Father Joss." When an expectant silence filled the space between Magdalyn and her new acquaintances, she went with what she hoped was the right response. Nodding to each in turn, she stood, and answered, "Deacon, Father. It is a pleasure to meet you." "Who might you be?" Father Joss asked, his voice much softer, and lower than that of his companion. Grandfatherly, Mags thought to herself. "My name is Magdalyn." Father Joss inclined his head, studying her through eyes narrowed by age. Yet despite the wrinkles, the medicine-bottle green was crystal clear. "The Deacon tells me that you are a farmer?" Eagerly, Mags nodded. "I am, yes. And so happy to be here, giving thanks for what has already proven to be an incredible season" The smile that unfurled across his leathery face was just as grandfatherly as his tone. "And we are so happy to have you, Magdalyn. We are blessed to have those who toil, as you do, among us." Now, the smile the blue-haired player wore was entirely genuine. Take that, combat snobs.
"...and the first night of tribute was a success, you say?" The younger of two shaven heads practically beamed as he asked the question, his rosy cheeks burning with delight. "Tell me, Brother Clarence, and spare no detail." "Patience," the taller, lithe monk with taut cheekbones chided. "These halls may be sacred, but the ears within are not so blessed. Let us away from prying ears." "Nonsense," the fat-faced friar frowned. "Who would but delight in the work we do? It is by our hand that the Divine keep the harvest bountiful. Should we not spread the joy to our fellows? Should we not-" "Your zeal is most Noble Brother Jesoph, but your faith in the frail hearts of men is sorely misplaced. The common, licentious folk cannot begin to appreciate our labor-" "But to give them the chance, Clarence!" Jesoph raised his voice and rounded on the taller man. The gaunt holy man would have none of it. "Hold your tongue," Clarence hissed, "we are in the house of the gods, and all we do and say should glorify them." "Agreed," Jesoph sighed. Kijin let out an inaudible sigh from his hiding place, just behind an open door. He watched the two walk several paces further down the corridor, then turn and disappear into a room. The door shut tightly behind them. "What the hell was that about?" he muttered. Bits and pieces of the whole made sense, but only from the perspective of an outside entity listening in. Kijin needed to delve deeper. I wonder if Magdalyn has found anything yet.
Time passed quickly then. The two chuchmen engaged Magdalyn in conversation as easy as the smiles they wore. They asked about her experience in farming, and her future plans. The excitement in their eyes when she mentioned ranching brought a stab of pride in Mags' chest. How many times had she mentioned her intentions to train, breed, and break horses, only to be laughed at by fellow players? How many of them had simply asked her why she did not improve her weapon skills, or help to clear dungeons, the way everyone else did? When had Magdalyn ever wanted to be like everyone else? Certainly not in the heart of a virtual world as vast and malleable as Terrasphere. She allowed them to lead her around the massive hall, an exclusive tour in which they treated her like royalty. They motioned to various plaques, spun her tales of gods, miracles, and deliverance, and even showed her a statue erected to honor the farmer. Observing the man's hunched back, overalls, and hoe, Mags could not help but grin. She quite liked it here. When her excursion concluded, the men led her back to the front door. "We are terribly sorry to see you go," the Deacon admitted, dropping his gaze to the polished stone floor. "But it was such a delight having you here." Magdalyn nodded her agreement. "I had a fantastic time. Thank you both." Suddenly, Rolf lifted his head, expression changing from muted disappointment to eagerness as an idea struck him. He turned to his companion, and spoke in what Mags figured was his attempt at a whisper. In the towering hall, with its high ceilings and empty spaces, his hushed voice carried. "Might she be able to attend tonight?" Joss' eyes crinkled further as he grinned. Though he spoke to Rolf, his gaze never left her. "What a splendid idea, Deacon. Magdalyn, would you be so kind as to join us tonight? We are having a more formal celebration to the harvest, and would be so honored were you to be in attendance." A soft hum of delight rippled from the back of her throat, and she had to keep from laughing aloud. More of this kind of treatment? How could she say no? "And I would be honored to do so," she answered. "I'll be there." After listening to the man give her the finer details, she added, "I do have a friend with me as well. Would it be alright if I brought him along?" Hesitation, just the faintest trace of it, ghosted across the Deacon's round face. The Father, however, revealed nothing. "Is your friend also a farmer?" Joss inquired. At his question, Mags' smile faltered. "No," she told them, doing nothing to hid her disappointment. "He isn't. He prefers to focus on fighting." The old man's jaw worked as he studied her, mulled over her words, considered the best reply. "Do you think, then," he began hesitantly, "that your friend might feel out of place at a festival such as this?" She thought this over for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah," she told him, "I guess you're right." "Why not come alone then?" Rolf prompted, inserting himself into the discussion once more. "You'll be the guest of honor, you know." So she agreed, and as she strode from the church and back into the busy street, her smile had returned to its full brilliance.
He slipped closer to the door only once he was absolutely certain no one was watching. Still, the sensation of prying eyes tickled the swordsman as he leaned gently against the door and forced himself to breathe slowly. Closed as it was, no one would see him from inside. He could see anyone who approached from his side. He dismissed the phenomenon as irrational. Kijin folded his arms and tilted back his head, angling to hear even the slightest of sounds. He could barely make out whispers. "...bleed... crops..." the first voice was louder than the second, and only served to confuse him further; but when the more boisterous apostle spoke, Kijin confirmed his suspicions. "...did the lifegiver not say that the farmers would trade for their harvest? In blood and in sweat?" The red-eyed man blinked. It sounded very much biblical. That made it even more terrifying. "Ours is a service that serves only to supplement their lifelong labor-" He shook his head. This was one rabbit hole he didn't think he wanted any part of. How long would they get into the conversation before the game triggered an event? How long before his actions, or Magdalyn's own, would turn down the path of no return? He stepped away from the door and shook his head, hard. "Nope," he said to himself. "Nope, nope, nope..." Kijin hurried toward the stairs, but froze in place when he saw two clergymen coming directly toward him, eyes locked on his person. "You there," the first raised his voice. "The common folk are not allowed on the upper levels. What is the meaning of this?" "I apologize," he wore a silly smile, a hand awkwardly placed to the nape of his neck as he bowed his head. "I got lost looking for the-" "You're that urchin I cast out earlier for carrying your sword in the cathedral!" announced the second. "How did you get to the second floor? I watched you walk out the front door." "I- me?" Kijin appeared shocked by the accusation. "Impossible, you must be mistaken." "No, that's the very same weapon," the man pointed gravely. "What are you playing at?" Kijin opened his eyes slightly, and his dark gaze settled on the man. "I got lost," he repeated. "I'll take my leave, and you won't see me again." The second man took a step forward, but the first took him firmly by the sleeve. "What-" Both men found their eyes on the partly bared steel in Kijin's grasp. When they looked up, he offered them a thin, grim smile. "You scum..." The swordsman knocked into the shoulders of both men as he pushed his way through them. He shoved the katana back into his sheath, and when they did not give chase, Kijin sighed aloud. It did not appear he had triggered an event. This time. He took his first steps out of the church with a creeping fear of what he just ignored.
Perhaps it was her incredibly good mood, a glowing shield that buffered her from his foul one. But rather than immediately recognizing Kijin's scowl, as was characteristic of her, she launched into her own story. "We've got nothing to worry about," she informed him matter-of-factly. "There's a lot of stuff going on, and it is centered around farmers, but it's all really positive. They're actually doing a lot to honor the people who work in the fields, which I think is really, really cool. I told them I was working on my farming skills, and acted like I'd said I was the President or something. They showed me around, told me all about the history of the church - it was really amazing." She was rambling, something that was equally uncharacteristic of her. The crashing realization stopped her short, and she offered him a sheepish smile. "Sorry," she stated. "I'm just really excited about the whole thing. They even invited me to come back to this big celebration later tonight, for the harvest. I guess it's a really big deal, and they said I'd be the guest of honor." When she fell into expectant silence, her blue eyes wide and twinkling with pleasure, he said nothing. And some of that pleasure left her. "What is it?" Magdalyn asked, her voice a full octave lower, and far quieter, than her previous rant. She took a step closer, as if to block out the bustle around them, and focus on her companion."Are you okay?" Something looked off, was off, with Kijin. How did I miss it?
"Nothing," he shook his head slightly and spoke in a quiet voice. The events of the last few minutes still replayed in his mind, to the point where he only heard part of her story. An event? Kijin glanced at the woman, whose mood had only soured to match his own. He offered a slight, albeit contrived smile to dismiss her worries. "Just a bit on my mind." He stood upright once they were clear of the street where the cathedral stood and cupped his chin thoughtfully. I didn't trigger any events in the church, but maybe I didn't fulfill the proper criteria. There are some quests that only appear for certain classes or people with the proper skillset... Kijin eyed Magdalyn sidelong. But quests like that require those skills in order to complete them. I've never heard of a quest, ever, that specifically targets players... No. That would be a literal ghost in the machine. An AI trying to select targets and- It struck him immediately that Terrasphere was a game unlike any other, and that from what he was told, there was a massive push to have it pulled before it ever saw any playtime. There were things players couldn't possibly know because they were essentially playing on the DarkNet. Its not unrealistic, but... Its also just a theory. I shouldn't worry her about it. "I don't like those chuch people much," he announced after his sabbatical. "And I don't trust what they're selling. I don't think you should go."
"What?" The light left her eyes, then, like the turning of a knob on an old oil lamp. He spoke with such lack of emotion, his rejection so flippant that it stung. Had some part of her not been ready for it, not expected a reaction such as this, she might have even flinched. Do you think, then, that your friend might feel out of place at a festival such as this? The Deacon's words turned over in her mind as she slowed to a halt. They had only traveled a few blocks from the church, much of it in silence as Kijin mulled over her words. Now, standing on the corner by a shop advertising fine leather-works, Magdalyn turned on the dark-haired boy. "I get that you don't like churches," she explained slowly. "You've made that clear. I don't care much for them either, in the real world, but I think this one is different. It's a video game, so why is it so hard to believe that they might actually be in support of farmers? That someone in the whole virtual world might not be completely focused on hacking at things with swords." She might have run away with that line of thinking, adopting a passive aggressive stance to further harass him, but that was unlike her. Her frustration was not at him - it was at the system as a whole. Terrasphere had been advertised as an entirely unique game, but she still found that most things relied on strength and weapon skills. Might as well have kept playing Call of Duty. "I'm going to go," she told him. "But if you don't trust them, that's your choice. I'll keep an eye open while I'm there, and let you know if anything else seems suspicious." Though I highly doubt it will.
"I said my peace," he threw up his hands in the traditional white flag gesture when she started back at him. "Far be it for me to try changing your mind." Part of him actually hoped that she was right, and that it wouldn't be more than an actual feast thrown in her honor. It would be a wonderful deviation from the scarily difficult, death defying quests they had seen thus far in Terrasphere. What he heard still ate at him, however. "I'm not saying something wrong is going to happen," his voice softened slightly. "I'm just saying to be careful, and that I don't have a good feeling about it." But I'm going to keep an eye on the whole ordeal. He took a step backward and offered a slight bow. After they exchanged their goodbyes, he disappeared around the corner and opened his HUD. "I really should have taken points in Rogue," he lamented. "It feels like I do more sneaking around in these quests than fighting head on."
