Complete - IX. The Hermit

Les persones es troben, les muntanyes no.
A MOUNTAIN NEVER MEETS A MOUNTAIN, BUT A MAN MEETS A MAN​

There was a dark side of the internet (like the far side of the moon, living in perpetual shadow and what-ifs) filled with strangeness and hidden-things.

Things you could buy. Things you couldn’t trace. Things you could bet on, things people didn’t want one another to know about. Things (for instance) like Terrasphere, the virtual child of anonymous e-mails and the infamous darkweb.

In among these things were forums. Whispers. Rumors. [They say it can answer any question. Anything at all.] Urban legends, mysteries, tales of a modern wonder at the top of a mountain. [Even things in the real world! It always tells the truth.] An oracle of intermingled magic and machine, a one-time chance for a one-time question. [IT'S REAL.]

Rook, of course, knew none of these things. He was a product of sword and fantasy, a creature descended from fiction and fabrication. He would not, did not know of a higher plane where meta-forces influenced his actions, sought to bring his story to fruition.

He knew only the light on the mountain. And like a moth to flame, he was drawn to climb.

He was alone. This came as no surprise. He acted impulsively, sporadically, without plan or forethought. Any who might have gladly accompanied him to the mystery (or anti-mystery, truth itself) on the peak were given no warning. Rook simply left, pattering away (run run run) and found himself scaling the slopes, sandals crunching on gravel, trusting in his own instincts and sense of direction to take him to the peak.

The light he’d seen was not visible. Not any more. He had spotted it from the highest tower in Vintergard, a beacon offering answers [one answer: one question] from the stone tablets and the ancient scrolls.

And so Rook hiked up the mountain, chasing a rumor, chasing a lead. He was not the only one. On a different path, on a different trail, another figure ascended step by step towards the pinnacle. Though they came from different directions, seeking different words of truth and wisdom, their goal was the same.

To answer the impossible.
To find the solution.
Perhaps even to remedy a wrong.

@Lady N

 

It was so silly. A total joke. No way she was doing this.

Yet here she was climbing some mountain in search of... answers.

Ha... Chelsea was going off the deep end this time. She had finally begun to take the actions she had sought for months now. Take action to avenge her family and now... avenge a lot of hurt innocence caught up in what was likely her problem.

Nexus Corp.

It was her problem, something she was responsible for, at least in her mind. Chelsea would not except any alternative.

The Hacker, the musician, all those who were looking for the truth. They were allies that even though she didn't want. They were needed. How else would she get anywhere? The more people who did research the better... as long as...

As long as she was the one to see her father's records, that Chris fellow's databases... as long as she personally dealt with her own problem like a true Nexon.

That was enough.

Even then... she was hesitating. She had to admit to herself she was scared. Scared of what she had to do. Scared of the penalties... scared of the truth... scared of failing.

Yeesh. As if this mountain would help but just maybe this weird deadly game could give her a push somehow. Maybe just a moment's thought was what she needed. If only she was not so weak here either. Battle prowess meant a lot more in this videoscape than in real life. She couldn't just out spend or out tech everything that was a obstacle. Thankfully, the game was meaningless compared to reality... right?

"...Hmm?"

Someone else was approaching from another path up ahead! Great... every time Chelsea logged into Terrasphere it was either Cain or that stupid witch girl. Regardless it was always a big pain in the butt. Please no....

Flipping her scarf behind her, Chelsea eyed the man coldly. Her face the very definition of stoic. If he was someone who came here to think or find knowledge that was fine. As long as he didn't get into her business and act like some annoying jerk.

At least he had clothes thank heavens.

@Rook the Quick

 

The road before him joined another, twin forks merging ahead to become a single rock-strewn trail. So Rook was not alone. On the other path was a dark-haired girl, her neck hidden by a warm scarf (as was his, a mantle staunching scores of sucker-sores) who paralleled his mountain course.

Almost, their paths crossed. Rook moved past like a breeze of black, glancing blankly over his shoulder at the scarf-girl (as if she was a deer, a passing bird, the sound of wind). The short man kept up his pace, neither slowing nor quickening with company. Foot-after-foot. Step by step.

He did have an idea of what lay at the top of the mountain, he’d decided. Rook would know he sought an oracle of sorts, a compass by whose truth he could take the next steps of his journey in the right direction.

The path grew steeper, steeper until they were clambering up boulders, ledges, footholds on sheer faces. For the first time Rook slowed, casting another glance over his shoulder at the dark-haired girl who followed in his footsteps.

Just because they traveled the same road didn’t mean they had to walk together.

But even so...

He perched at the top of a particularly high ledge and squatted, waiting for the other player to catch up. He tilted his head to the side, propping up his leather beak on his hands as he waited, expression curious and vacant. Unless she asked for it he would not offer the other traveler a hand. Rook merely observed, quizzical as a child watching a nature documentary. When she passed him, he waited a few moments (shyly, like a boy afraid to ask a girl to dance) before he stood again and followed.

Scuffle scuffle.

He was a noisy walker. He kicked pine cones down the side of the mountain and they rolled and rattled as they bounced down the slope. This seemed to give him great joy and he did it again and again, sandals slapping on rock and throwing off sparks as he flipped over an obstacle and went back to scuffing at the ground. His footsteps were uneven— he had no stride or rhythm, his pace a heart murmur of skips and hops and sudden patters.

He liked to click his tongue as he walked.

What would he ask the idol of the mountain?

The natural terrace of the mountain path became deliberate, slicing deep into the rock as a narrow staircase opened up before them. It was a long, straight, steep staircase, stone steps carved in giant blocks like those of Mayan temples. Moss grew in thick patches on the walls, the air both damp and chilly.

Rook craned his head (too-close, almost close enough to touch the second traveler) and saw two amber lights high above them like distant eyes. Torches? Lanterns?

He did not hesitate. He hopped up on the first step and began to climb.


@Lady N

 

Upon closer inspection it became painfully obvious that this was in fact...

Yes sadly without a doubt.

Another weirdo.

Yeesh, Chelsea was like some sort of weird magnet. Stalkers, idiot witches, psychos,girls, and people that throw themselves in front of said psychos, girls that play ripped men to get off on showing their abs to innocent girls. Sigh, now this guy with his... beak? Did he think he was a bird? Was that maybe why he was on a mountain? Okay...

"..."

Chelsea did her best to snub the man and silently head past him when he stopped and seemingly waited for her. For a second their eyes met, Large dark pupil to dark beady pupil. She concealed a shiver and wondered if this was a oddly designed player avatar or a actual NPC stalking her. He was not attacking or anything but maybe he was gauging her. Evaluating just how to attack. To be honest it would not be too hard.

She kept all her senses on high alert as he was hopefully left behind her now. He could be a player killer and using that look to intimidate people. The short raven haired girl had only her hidden N Slicer Proto to defend her. While she trusted her abilities to a degree she was not exactly ready for a duel. Partly why she was looking for this 'Oracle on the Mountain' was to try and find some way to get stronger in this game. Swords, fire balls, blessings, all were things she would never truly be able to use. She needed technology. A way to build something with her own ingenuity and make her own path forward.

That was the Nexon way.

"...Hmm?"

There he was right next to her again. Okay, maybe it was time to break this awkward silence especially with what looked like what could be the end of this tedious journey in sight. He was even clicking his tongue now! Was he trying to annoy her?

Troll...

"Yeesh... Look, I didn't come all the way up here alone to be stalked by some bird man. Who are you? ...If you're here for the knowledge of the mountain. I personally think it's baloney. If you are after my money I have little. If you are a player killer. I will defend myself and you may be surprised how that would play out."

Yeah that was quite the bluff. Although her calm and quiet voice often made things sound more intimidating than they actually should be.

Actually she began to wonder if he might be someone sent to watch or attack her by whoever was behind the murders? Did Nexus figure her out? ...She didn't bring that up and did her best to dismiss the thought.

She stopped in front of him and folded her arms, staring. She would not let this creepy trip continue without answers.

@Rook the Quick

 

All paths led somewhere, even if it wasn’t somewhere you were looking for. The staircase Rook and @Lady N stood before led to a single destination, manifested in a single goal. An answer that was the starting point to many new paths, a dowsing rod to fall towards tomorrow. For those who sought its legendary truth, the only way was up.

It was too bad, then, that SOMETHING stood in Rook’s way. Rudely! Blocking the path! He stood on his tiptoes to crane around her as the fed-up girl spun around. Rook's eyes couldn't help but flick longingly past her to the two points of amber light in the distance. I must go! But if he scooted one way, there wasn’t enough room to squeeze by. If he scooted the other, there wasn't room there either. He tried moving very slowly (as if she wouldn’t notice) but this did not work. The girl with her crossed-arms stood fast, her words cold, her manner colder.

This path, for him, was closed.

What? Who was she to stop him! He was Rook the Quick, blade-dancer, jinx-eater. Quick meant not-delayed, quick meant run-and-climb and reach the top, not stand down at the bottom!

The entire time she confronted him he moved his head in sharp, jerky motions, hoping to find a way around her. When she was done the small man nodded impatiently like a student to a teacher’s lecture, yes, yes-you’re-right, can I go?

He eyed her cautiously, however, and backed off a step at her warning tone. He did not want her to attack him, so he held up his hands palms-open to show he meant no harm. No money, no killing! Rook would not attack her either, even with his swords in their scabbards at his sides. She was not armed, and it would not be fair! Even if she is blocking the path.

Rook raised his hand and pointed up the staircase towards the twin lights. It was fine if she didn’t believe! He would find the answer he sought! Since it didn’t look like the scarf-girl would budge from mere charades, Rook gave a muffled cough behind his mask. There was more clicking before an unsure voice filtered out like early-morning speech, barely a croak. “Go?”

...

Higher up the steps, two stoic figures awaited the pair of travelers. They had been summoned, their presence both triggered and animated by the two who so coincidentally met on the mountain path. They were identical and humanoid, bare-chested and bronzed. They stood like statues, a pair of crossed lances blocking further passage. In each of their opposite hands was an orange lantern which shone without flame or bulb, warmly illuminating the shadowed terrace.

Most strangely, they had no eyes. Each face was shielded by a helm, a visor of bronze inlaid with a 3x3 grid of nine blinking amber lights. Each pulsed on the off-beat to its counterpart like two modems receiving signals from one another, digital and strange.

...

Like Rook, the simulacrums didn’t speak. They merely waited.

 

“Go?”

"...So you can talk bird man?"

Chelsea's cool stare and quiet voice spoke with the demeaning harshness of someone important being rudely interrupted by a nobody. Her following words were somewhat less hostile however. He seemed a bit too strange to just be a player killer or something similar. He might actually be here to go to the top. ...Yeesh.. that meant she had something in common with this freaky guy.

Life in a game of freaks... sigh.

"Yeesh... fine. I guess I ca-"

Turning, she almost jumped out of her scarf when her eyes met the masked people standing just a short ways above her. Her composure completely shattered in a instant. She quickly stiffened up and regained herself.

They had... some kind of computers on their faces? VR headsets? No, that was impossible in game wasn't it? They did not show any hostility either. All these strange people that may or may not be hazardous to be around... and here was Chelsea right smack in the middle of them. Boo.

The raven haired Nexon eyed the stairs and as her eyes traveled upwards her heart rate accelerated. What if, just what if this actually did get her some kind of information? What if these people were like in game staff members or testers? Her imagination was running away with her. Her situation lately has really impacted her imagination.

Best stay as realistic as possible for sanity's sake.

"Well, let's go then. I'm here for the...uh...oracle?"

She waited to see if they would attack or the bird man would do something... or anything that was not normal or positive. After all, bad things seemed drawn to Chelsea as well.

@Rook the Quick

 

Bird man?! He was not bird-man, he was Rook the Quick! Quickest of all, quicker than tumbling-pebbles down a mountain and tree-climbing squirrels! One chattered at the pair from the treetops and Rook turned his head to stare up at it, eyes squinting, wondering.

...Was it the beak? (He had always been looking-up, watching the migrations from the classroom window, the roosting doves as they shivered all as one in their alarm and took flight. Oh, how he’d wanted to escape! His nose and lips had always felt so obscene, loose flesh and gluttonous senses—)

Oh, but what was this?

The strange bronze men (with their blinking eyes and blinking lights, their flickering on-and-off reception) were welcome heralds, guards who straddled the border between up and out, upset and outcry. They stood stoic against the pink-eyed girl's words, solidly silent in their poses barring entry.

And then—

“What truth do you seek from the Augur?”

“Is it truth of fact, or of ideals?”

“Truth of absolution? Or of conviction?”​

Their mouths did not move, but the nine gems blinked on-and-off (in-and-out, odd in their oration) and the crossed lances remained static, barring further passage. It seemed their questions had been rhetorical, however, for once the duo reached the top of the staircases the bronzed figures did in fact move. Their weapons tilted parallel to one another as they stepped aside in a single motion, leaving space between to pass. With one voice, they intoned “You who in candor seek out guidance of your fate: Approach.”

Wheeeee! At last!

He tiptoed-fast between the simulacrums, stopping just beyond the pair to wait for @Lady N. He darted in and snatched up her hand impulsively, pulling her along, insistent and impossible, as their ascent plateaued. Rock ledges curved past one another, arch after stone arch as the mountain veranda guided them towards one point.

The oracle.
The augur.
The answer.

There had been no description on the darkweb, the secret-server, of the idol itself. Rook was drawn to it by instinct. A stone cube sat like a podium on its edge, crystalline and unnatural, dark as highway pavement and crossed by threads of light and circuitry like a motherboard hewn from pure basalt.

As they approached, the lines glowed amber (like street-lamps! Like candlelight!) and spread in geometric sparkpaths up each paneled face, lighting up the stone. A soft, glowing sphere blinked to life above the cube, a gazing-ball of tangerine light. It blinked distantly, its pulses brightening in time with every cool and distant syllable.

In his head, Rook heard “SPEAK, AND YOU SHALL KNOW.”

(...Oh, but what a thing to ask!)

 

What is the truth you seek?

The voice caught her by surprise. They were speaking.. but not. Wrapping her head around everything that happened in Terrasphere was like trying to solve a unsolvable riddle. It just kept twisting and making no sense.

The question had a pretty clear answer for Chelsea, but how could a game answer this? How foossih of her to even...

Is it truth of fact, or of ideals?

A ideal? That would be something she wished to be. No matter how much she didn't want to admit that yes, there were things she wished for. They were wishes though... she knew better then to expect dreams to become reality. Did her own goal fall into that... she didn't think so. She refused to think so.

The facts were why she was here after all. Why she bothered to play a game while real people were in danger and it may be partly due to her families company.

Truth of salvation or conviction?

Hmph! That depended on if it was for others or for the culprits! That she was certain of!

"...I-"

Before she could say anything else, the strange bird vagrant or whatever he was supposed to be had grabbed her arm and was pulling her forward. Was this a trap?!

By the time she freed herself she realized that no, it wasn't. This was...

Incredible.

“SPEAK, AND YOU SHALL KNOW.”

For the first time since playing Terrasphere. Chelsea felt as if she may have found something useful. Something that could give her very critical information, or a road to the power needed to accomplish the certain challenge ahead. Why did she feel so stereotypical right now? Life had become pretty crazy so this kind of path to whatever she needed to do might just work for once.

Murders, trapped players, a hated life, a nightmarish digital trap designed to look like a game.

And here she was daring to do something about it, for what, her family? Yes for her own selfish reasons. This was slowly starting to become something more, but for now... Chelsea R. Nexon had to be selfish. She had to focus on her problems and fix those first. She had money and her wits alone in the real world. Here, she had nothing in a world of might makes right and nothing can be a certainty.

"I know what I will ask you. I need to find...."

We'll leave her request at that!

@Rook the Quick

 

As Rook stood and stared at the pulsing globe, a tangerine of light (sweetlooking, eyecatching) he thought. He thought-about-thoughts, and about speech, and about words.

To speak was to know. No, that wasn’t right. To think was to know, to take abstract this-and-that and bend it into place, make it fit into words and then believe reality would bend to fit what had been fitted. Words were a painter’s palette, a musician’s scales. They did not need to be on the canvas to make art, or recorded to make music. Thoughts were truer before they became words. Reality was only a reflection of a copy.

These were strange thoughts, cave-thoughts, shadow-thoughts. Rook perhaps did not think them in words. But he knew at his core (in his center, like the hole at the heart of an orange fruit) he need not voice his question, need not phrase in splayed letters and broken homonyms the sign he sought.

Was it real, was it here, what was it, where was it, how could he find it, and how could he fit in?

Where was his purpose? Where was his plot?

Maybe it was a figment, constricted by a far-off boy with dull brown eyes and hollow cheeks. Maybe it was another soul, bound to his through fate and time, beyond reality itself. Or maybe it was a sword: a sharpness, a secret, a silence waiting to be found.

With his heart, not his voice, Rook asked.

With his heart, not his ears, he heard the answer.

END.​