#this piece is the catalyst that made me start doing that hatching that i do in the shading btw

[parksrway]

finally get to share the piece I made as a part of Harp in Shadows, a @sheikzine !!! so cool that I got to be a part of this project <3

[tenaciouschronicler]

August 2 and 3 2024 2009

I fear I really will need to put all my posts into a word doc.

Lets work through the lore shall we.

So, back on page 251 when the Kernel divided it 'hatched' upon arrival to The Medium. These Kernels, one light and one dark, upon situating themselves in their respective Orbs activate the Imps present giving them characteristics from the prototyping, in this case harlequin clothing.

Im gonna put the rest under the cut, this post got away from me.

Again working from top to bottom, These Orbs are situated upon one of Four Spires which make up the throne of either sides Sovereign Power; the Dark throne is purple while the Light throne is gold. The first Kernels arrival is the catalyst that starts the 'true game', increasing the board to a 12x12, adding more pieces and actually placing the kings on opposite corners. Light is also always destined to lose. Im curious if each game can only be played by four players or if only the first four are placed in the spires and subsequesnt players dont have any effect on the Sovereign Powers? Could you play with less than four players and how would that game play out?

John and WV both wonder what the point is then if Light always loses and Nanna says that is The Ultimate Riddle they have to solve.

This part made me remember way back on page 82 when the narrator said:

The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket.

His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.

At the time I wrote, "Googling Absence gives us "the state of being away from a place or person". So his riddle is a state of being away from others... I feel like the following statement gives more but I cant discern what." Could this be The Ultimate Riddle Nanna is refering to? I still cant tell what the riddle is, maybe after I put all the Lore together I can at least try to add more to this. (After stepping back and re-reading it I figured out the 'diabolical riddle'; the nature of Absence is transitory and evanescent, here one moment gone the next. Looking for answers only serves to hasten its absence, obscuring itself with more questions.)

For now, John has to climb towards Skia by passing through the gates utilizing the games building funtion to reach. In that way he can save Dad! And what about Earth?

Nanna drops the bombshell that Earth is done for, regardless of how well they do in this game.

Finally done with her duty, Nanna heads off to bake John cookies! For the first time we see her phase through the walls leaving blue goo on the Con Air poster. We didnt see her doing that earlier but maybe theres more goo around the house.

WV is All About them cookies and pushes John to pursue. We learn John hates any and all baked goods "totally abjur[ing] the hell out of that idea."

Roses Pesterchum image is annoyed now, having tried to get Johns attention this whole time and is now trying to use a box to the head.

Unfortunately for her I think this is Johns last straw and hes having a well deserved scream. After everything hes gone through and learned, I think he needs it.

In the meantime and probably against better judgement, theres still a fire raging Rose, shes gonna update the GameFAQ. And apparently get sassed by a dead cat. It's pretty much all his fault you're in this mess in the first place, so he can just button it.

Whatever you say Rose.

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[kerra-and-company]

Maybe you've already touched on this in another post, but Knight of the Thorn quest for Kerra (and bonus for Rhi as well, if you want)

Hi hi!! Sorry it took a sec for me to answer this; I did a Whole Lot Of Driving this weekend (for good reasons! I just had like Zero free time and this is a detailed answer asdlkjfs). But I can answer it now, so let's go! :D

I think the most I've touched on this in another post was when the ask game about what the boss fight for your character would look like--I talked about what the fight against Kerra as one of the Knight-of-the-Thorn echoes would look like. But I haven't actually discussed details for either of their quests beyond that, so:

Kerra

She really hadn't ever planned on taking up the sword at all. Her canon might be different from the regular game canon (in that Trahearne survives the end of HoT), but Caladbolg is still very much broken when she and everyone else reaches "Hearts and Minds".

After Mordremoth's death, Kerra has fulfilled her Wyld Hunt. Aurene hasn't hatched yet, so as far as she knows, she isn't Champion to anyone or anything, and her future is her own. She's in a romantic relationship, she's still the Pact Commander, she's healing from both physical and mental wounds, and she's on shaky terms with both her siblings--Caithe because of everything that happened with the egg, and Trahearne because of the sacrifice she was willing to make.

Her relationship with Caithe starts to mend once Aurene hatches. They're able to sit down and talk, with the extra motivation that Aurene would be much happier if they both got along. Her relationship with Trahearne is on shaky ground for longer than that, but after "A Crack in the Ice", she can't stand that being the case at all for any longer and goes and has (another) long talk with him.

I'm sorry that I hurt you, but I'm not sorry for what I did, and I won't lie and say that I am. I know I don't value myself enough, I know, and I'm trying. I know my flaws and I know my choices, and it may be hypocritical but I hate that you ever thought that dying was all you were worth. I love you, you're my brother, you're here and I'm so glad, and I am so sorry that I hurt you but I will never not be glad that you're alive.

I was already wounded and dying, and I'd made peace with that, but I hadn't made peace with losing you, with losing another sibling. I'd done my job and my duty, and it was never one I wanted, and you still had so much more to do; the safest choice was to let me go. I would never want to be the reason Caithe lost you, Rel lost you, the world lost you. I was angry because I was, and am, afraid; I love you, and you risk so much so often, little sister, and I never wanted you to risk it for me.

That conversation is the catalyst for Kerra reforging Caladbolg--because Trahearne gives it to her. It's not another obligation, it's a weapon for her to protect herself. It's a legacy, to be sure, and she does take on the Knight of the Thorn title, but she is bestowed that title by her brother, not her Mother. It's a concession and an agreement--there will be risk, and there may be sacrifice, but Kerra will never do any of it alone. (And it's another part of Trahearne stepping down from a job he took out of obligation to his Mother and the world by giving up the sword. Protection for one sibling and freedom for the other.)

Kerra still ends up working with Ridhais here--though it's in a slightly different context than canon, the other sylvari still has a pertinent Wyld Hunt to this situation and helps her reforge the sword. She spends time on this quest specifically in-between "A Crack in the Ice" and "The Head of the Snake", so in that time, she's in Maguuma for a bit finding sword pieces (and spending time with Aurene). And the first two parts of the battles of the quest go very similarly to how they do in-game! She fights Riannoc's echo in the swamp, then Trahearne's in the canopy of Maguuma. But the third is different.

She goes to a small homestead in Wayfarer Foothills where a family lives. There are three children, two to three years older than they were last time she was there, and two parents. She greets them and explains why she's there, and though they're bemused (and confused, too), they nod. And they go inside, and they watch the Pact Commander battle an echo of herself, one from a time when she felt small and broken and overwhelmed with grief and self-hatred, outside in the snow.

Kerra carries Caladbolg with her for the rest of the time that she's the commander--through the very end of EoD.

Rhi

When Kerra steps down as commander, it coincides with Rhi really...coming of age, so to speak. They're a big part of a lot of the events in EoD, from the original fight with the Aetherblades to the final battle with the Dragonvoid. They're not quite ready to strike out on their own yet, but they plan to do so within the next year, and Kerra offers Caladbolg to them. It's a passing of the torch--not of the job as commander, Rhi is very young for that responsibility and doesn't want it, but of this weapon meant (perhaps more than most) as a way to protect the one who carries it. And they accept.

Their first two battles mirror their mother's, in the swamp and the jungle. They meet Riannoc for the first time, and he might just be an echo, but he sees an echo of himself in them nonetheless. They see their uncle--younger, from years ago, back when he was a soldier--and he doesn't recognize them, not really, but the look in their eyes is familiar. And they battle their mother's echo, but it's not outside a hut in the snow. They've been inside Sun's Refuge, so they know a bit about Elona, but they've never been to the top of this tower before, with its ring of scorch marks and blasted stone.

This echo of Kerra is from the moment she died, when she was about to lose Aurene, when she was probably the most desperate she's ever been. And she recognizes, when Rhi manages to get through "round one", that she's an echo, because she's the only one of the previous Knights who's been through this specific process of attuning to the sword. She doesn't know who Rhi is, but she tells them that they remind her of someone--maybe a couple someones. And she smiles and tells them they're also entirely someone new.

They carry the sword proudly after that. It follows them onto the deck of a ship a year later--one on the sea, not the air--and they start their own journey of learning about the world.

[rulesofthebeneath]

crazy about you (ajay x f!mc)

<AN> Hi, it’s midnight and I have no idea what the genuine fuck this is. I was trying to write something about how they like, officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. Or something like that. This is like, an entire THING. Tagging my crew: @lorosette (you literally inspired this), @lilmissperfectlyimperfect (get me with those ideas!!!), @pixelburied, @witchiegirl, @anlashokk, @directorajay, @itsbrindleybinch. Thanks for reading!!! Let me know what you think uhhhh okay here we go. </AN>

“No, James! And stop asking. We haven’t had that conversation yet, we will when we’re ready to.”

Grace sighed into her hands, raised up to her face as she deflected her brother’s endless barrage of questions. How was she supposed to answer that question about how she and Ajay were doing when they hadn’t even defined the relationship yet? Honestly, she was a little worried about how obsessed her twin brother was with this- though she knew he probably just wanted the best for her. She wished he’d shut up, though.

As for the relationship- well. Grace kept telling herself she couldn’t ask for anything more than she already had- a flirty text message exchange, daily kisses on the cheek and the warmth of his hand in hers. And it was great, but… well.

If Grace was being completely honest with herself, she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted a boyfriend- more specifically, she wanted him as her boyfriend. She wanted to keep the hand holding and the shy kisses and the texts from when he couldn’t sleep that made her smile when she read them first thing in the morning. But she also wanted the dates, the flowers, the stealing-his-sweaters, the “This is my girlfriend,” when she met his parents, everything that came with that.

And every time he smiled at her, every time he wrapped an arm around her shoulder or sent her a “thinking of you” out of nowhere, her heart ached for more. She kept telling herself it was stupid and shallow to want to put a label on their newfound relationship. That there was no way he’d feel the same, that he’d just want to keep it casual. Every time she picked up her phone to text him about it or opened her mouth to talk to him about it, those thoughts echoed through her mind until she went mute with the anxiety. It was too difficult.

But Grace had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially not one two months in the making. As the ache in her heart grew stronger, so did her will. She just needed something to kickstart it, a catalyst to startle her into action-

Her phone started ringing. It was him, his name on the screen and that picture of them that Cameron had taken at the art gallery. She stared at it for a few seconds before snapping back to reality when James pushed her shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

“Shut up!” she hissed, then pressed the ‘Accept’ button just in time. She pressed the phone to her ear and sprinted down the hall to the back porch, desperate to be out of James’ earshot.

“Ajay, hi,” she said into the phone, slightly out of breath.

“Hi, Grace” came the voice on the other end. “Were you… in the middle of something?”

Grace laughed. “Just running from my twin. What’s up?”

“I, well…” he hesitated. “Do you want to come somewhere with me? Tonight?”

Grace’s heart jumped into her throat.

“I, uh… you’ll have to be more specific. Where’s somewhere, and when’s tonight?”

“Well, somewhere is the park, and tonight would be around six. I can pick you up, we can get dinner and check out the park. They’re doing an art installation, something with lights? I thought you might like it.”

Grace’s mind raced with the possibilities, and as her train of thought went on the smile on her face grew bigger. This could be it! she thought. The perfect opening to defining the relationship.

Over the phone, she quickly agreed and they arranged what time he’d come to pick her up and what time she’d be back by. Rushing back into the kitchen, she ran the event by her parents who quickly agreed, noting the broad smile on her face.

Not to be excluded, James followed her up to her room and leaned on the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as she dug through her closet looking for something to where.

“So”, James started, smirking. “Did he finally ask you out?”

“I think so!”

James was slightly taken aback. “Wait, really? I was just saying that to tease you but… oh my gosh, that’s great!”

Grace took a shaky breath in. “I mean, I don’t know, but it’s definitely an in to try and ask him about what we are. I’m nervous. But excited! But really, really nervous…”

James grinned at her. “Chill, it’s fine. He literally already likes you. He’s probably just as nervous about it as you are.”

“Doubtful,” Grace joked, running a hand through her hair and starting a braid across her crown. “But… maybe! I don’t know, I’m feeling pretty optimistic.”

“Good. Well, be prepared for me to give you the third degree when you get back like you do whenever I go out with Erin.”

Grace blushed. “Go away, James. I have to get ready.”

“For your daaaaaaaaate,” she could hear him teasing from the hall as he walked away.

“Yeah, for my date,” she whispered to herself, smiling into the mirror.

***

At six precisely, Grace heard the doorbell ring while she put the finishing touches on her outfit. The gave herself a once-over in the mirror and nodded in approval while smoothing down her skirt. She heard the door open and James’ voice coming from downstairs, a sly tone.

Crap.

She ran down the stairs, shoving James out of the way on her way to greet Ajay. He stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his jeans pockets with a soft blush on his face. He visibly brightened when he saw her, pulling her into a quick hug.

“Grace. You look beautiful.”

The familiar ache rushed through her. She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened slightly and a breath hitched in his throat. When she pulled back, he smiled gently at her. He looked for a moment as if he’d lean forward, but then his gaze shifted behind her to where James leaned against the wall, a satisfied smirk on his face.

The moment broken, Grace stepped back and sighed.

“Ready to go?” he asked her.

“Yep!” He took her hand and led her out towards his car.

***

A short drive later, they arrived at the park. Popping the trunk, Ajay handed the picnic basket to Grace and hoisted two chairs over his shoulder. He slammed the hatch closed with his free hand, then turned around to offer Grace a sunny smile. She grinned back, addicted to his happiness, drawn in by his affection. It was always like this. It was good like this.

But today, it was going to change. It was going to be great and perfect and wonderful. Grace told herself she had to believe that, or she’d never go through with what she had planned. She sucked in a deep breath of the cold evening air, then turned to follow Ajay as he walked toward an open space in the field.

There was a clearing about halfway down where the light installation was nestled. Ajay set up the chairs a bit back, still facing the display but at an angle. “It’s beautiful,” Grace said. “Do you know what it’s supposed to mean?”

“Honestly, I’m no artist. Not visual art, anyway. I think they’re just… there. To look beautiful. To be admired, to inspire.”

“Dude, that was deep.”

The two stared at the lights for a second before bursting out into laughter. Ajay shook his head and, still laughing lightly, moved to set up the chairs. Grace spread out the picnic blanket and opened the basket to set up their feast.

She smiled fondly when she saw the packages of rainbow goldfish that he’d included, alongside two water bottles and a vegetable plate. The last thing she dug out was a piece of naan.

“So, tell me, why are we having a picnic at 6:30? Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t a picnic usually more of a lunchtime activity?”

Ajay flushed the slightest bit but recovered quickly.

“It just seemed cool. Like something you’d like. And… if I’m being totally honest with myself, I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did, Grace. I always want to spend time with you.”

She finally looked directly into his eyes and was surprised by the vulnerability that she found there.

This is it.

“If you do, then… I-” Grace cut herself off prematurely, the sighed. “I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Shoot,” he replied, moving from the chair to the blanket and taking her hand into his. His brow was furrowed slightly, and he was too close for Grace to be able to breathe.

“I… what are we, Ajay?” she finally said, the dam breaking and every raw word coming out, regardless of how much she might’ve practiced this. “What are we doing?”

Ajay’s mouth opened slightly in shock.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know, Grace.”

He was at a loss for words, a state in which she’d never seen him. She squeezed his hand tighter.

“Ajay, if you’d like… I want to be your girlfriend.”

Out in the emptiness of the space between them, her words hung still, each of them absorbing their meaning. Grace quashed down the impulse to take the words back out of that space, to negate them, to take them away and run away as fast as she could. Instead, she just let herself be. Vulnerable, the way the look in his eyes had been. Brave, the only way she seemed to be around him.

She watched as the emotions flew across his face, settling on something whole and pure- a feeling she couldn’t quite recognize by sight, but the expression one she had come to known as hers, as the one he always wore when he looked at her. It was the one that had graced his features as she walked down the stairs, it was the one on his face after they had kissed in his car after the cast party. It was affection, it was honesty, and it was a little bit of something more that she couldn’t quite place.

Almost robotically, he moved his other hand, lacing his fingers with her free hand.

“Grace…” he almost whispered. “I’d love nothing more than to have you as my girlfriend. I was so afraid to ask. But it turns out we both wanted the same thing.”

“Oh, thank god,” Grace whispered up to the sky, almost reverently. “That was my whole heart that I just gave to you right there,” she joked.

“I’d say the same, but in truth, you already stole my heart a long time ago.” Ajay reached up to cup her cheek. “Grace, can I kiss you?”

In answer, she leaned forward into his embrace, hands braced on his chest and touched their lips together. Ajay’s hands ran through her hair and down her back, pulling her closer until she was nearly in his lap.

She had to break away quickly when she lost her balance, falling laughing onto the blanket and rolling onto her side to tug him down there with her. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, then leaned in to kiss her again. He pulled her closer by the shoulders and by the waist, wrapping his arms around her as if he couldn’t get her quite close enough.

When she broke away for the second time, she rested her forehead against his. His smile was so close and so huge that it was blinding, and Grace found herself mesmerized.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, moving to press the third kiss to her forehead. “I’m so happy right now, I literally don’t have the words for it.”

“Same here. You know, Ajay, you never should’ve doubted that I had feelings for you. I’m not good at hiding them, like, at all.”

He shook his head slightly. “No, I shouldn’t have. But you shouldn’t have doubted me, either. Don’t you realize I’m crazy about you?”

“I’m crazy about you, too.”

[jbharrisauthor]

Episode 1 - Timing Is Anything - Chapter One

London 2009

Timing. Funny word, timing, considering time and space were more like a big ball of tangled yarn, rather than the straight line people tended to think it.

But in this case, the timing had to be just right. Too early, and certain people who needed to be avoided would still be in the way. Too late, and he’d be really dead. No chance of saving him.

And Ianto Jones really needed saving.

The Doctor aimed to land the TARDIS in a janitorial closet of the high school where dozens of bodies had been laid out under red sheets in the gymnasium. But of course, when she opened the door and stepped out, she nearly tripped over a cello.

Music room. Right, not as inconspicuous as a closet, but as long as she had the timing right, then the rest was all semantics.

Letting the door of the TARDIS swing closed behind her, she paused to listen as voices echoed from the corridor. Male, talking in short, sharp sentences. Probably the military or UNIT. No one she wanted to run into when she didn’t want anyone to know she was here. If they knew The Doctor was in town, they’d expect her to do something about the alien-children situation, and Torchwood already had that well in hand, even if they didn’t realize it yet.

Ianto’s death was the catalyst for Torchwood’s leader, Captain Jack Harkness, to finally work out how to stop the alien threat the humans were calling the 456. This was one of those pesky fixed-point-in-time situations where The Doctor couldn’t, shouldn’t interfere.

Right now, Jack was devastated about losing the man he loved, almost broken. Almost. But not quite. Because now he was also desperate and angry. And while the 456—who were actually a parasitic, low-life race of gas-breathing creatures called the Sohanidd—hadn’t worked it out yet, thinking they’d claimed victory and the ten percent of the world’s children they were demanding, killing Ianto had been the one thing they could do to guarantee Jack would find a way to beat them once and for all. No matter the cost. Because that cost… Oh, that cost was too much. But the only way Jack would follow through was if he already felt like he had nothing left to lose.

So, no, she didn’t need anyone to find her here and get her involved, because then Jack would look to her for answers, and it could change the outcome. There was only one outcome she was here to change, and that was the finality of Ianto’s death. She’d seen patterns developing, things that made her decide she needed to take a gamble and change the course of Ianto’s fate.

He was meant to die today; an entire timeline had unfolded with just that eventuality. But something was happening in the dark corners of the galaxy, something she didn’t understand yet, and her instincts were shouting at her not to ignore it. So, even knowing it could actually make things worse, she was going to change history and save Ianto’s life, while hopefully still keeping the balance of events that had to occur today.

Once the voices had faded away, she crossed the room and peeked into the corridor to check it was clear before slipping out. She let the sound of muffled voices lead her to the gymnasium, pausing to look through a small square window in one of the two double swinging doors. She had to stand on tip-toes to see. Damn short legs. Most of her last regenerations, she’d been tall. Of course, she’d also been a man. So there was that.

In the middle of the gym, Jack sat with an arm around Gwen Cooper, the other surviving member of Torchwood. The only surviving member of Torchwood. Apart from Jack who couldn’t die, the rest had all perished in one way or another. But every single one of them had given their lives to save the planet from destruction at different points in time.

Jack and Gwen were staring down at Ianto, neither of them looking like they planned to move anytime soon.

“Come on, Jack. Say your goodbyes and be on your way. Before it’s too late,” she mumbled to herself.

“Can I help you, Miss?” A pair of soldiers had walked up behind her while she’d been distracted looking through the door glass. Every now and then, she still looked over her shoulder to find the Miss people were referring to, until she remembered that she was the Miss. Or ma’am. Or hey lady depending on what she was doing that day.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” She sent them what she hoped was a friendly, not-up-to-anything smile. “Just waiting for someone.”

The soldiers nodded and then continued through to the gym, chatting to each other.

Once the doors swung closed again, she went back on tip-toes to steal another look. Jack and Gwen were finally on their feet, still with their arms around one another, walking slowly, stiffly away from the body. Though Jack was aging immeasurably slower than a normal human—he still had thousands of years to live—he looked so much older than the last time she’d seen him, as if losing Ianto had stolen hundreds of years off that vast lifetime of his.

If only she could tell him he would see Ianto again. But that was for another day. For today, Jack needed to keep on believing that Ianto was gone forever.

By the time Jack and Gwen had disappeared from sight, she was practically hopping on the spot with impatience. The window of time she had to revive Ianto was rapidly shrinking. The pair had barely left the gym through the outside doors before she went rushing out. If they came back, she was banking on the fact that Jack wouldn’t recognize her—at least not right away. Last time Jack had seen The Doctor, he’d had brown hair. Among other more noticeable changes.

It was getting late in the evening and people were gradually leaving, plus with the alien threat still hanging over them, no one was worrying too much about the already-dead when there were millions of children who needed saving. No one paid her any attention as she crossed the rows of bodies, but she kept her head ducked just in case, doing her best not to attract attention to herself. Jack and Gwen had left the red sheet off Ianto’s face, as if they couldn’t bear to fully cover him like the rest of the bodies.

He certainly looked dead as a doornail. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about this. His lips were blue and his skin was grey. She pulled her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket and gave him a quick scan before checking the reading. Ah-ha. Just what she’d been hoping to find. He wasn’t dead yet. Just in a very, very deep sleep. Exactly like sleeping beauty.

Ianto Jones, however, was much prettier than sleeping beauty. And unfortunately, true love’s kiss wasn’t the cure to this disease.

Actually, if the virus was what she suspected, it really was the same thing sleeping beauty had caught. Not the Disney version. The real-life sleeping beauty the story was based on. A German princess from around the mid-17th century who’d eaten what she’d thought was an apple, but had actually been a piece of contaminated fruit thrown out of a passing tourist spaceship. Gosh, had that been a doozer of a day. The king nearly had her drawn and quartered before she’d worked out what was wrong with his daughter.

The secondary analysis on the sonic screwdriver finished with a whirr and confirmed the diagnosis. She slipped the device away again and then reached into a different pocket, pulling out several small vials and sorting through them to find the neon purple one with the anti-viral to counteract the effects. Tasted like death, but was preferable to actual death.

“Down the hatch, Ianto Jones.” She pinched his chin to part his lips, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before she tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth. The room was now empty, apart from the two soldiers who’d spoken to her out in the corridor. And the dead.

The truth was, none of these people were actually dead. Oh, they would be within ten to twenty minutes. And she would have saved every one of them if she could. But she didn’t have enough anti-viral to go around, and while she didn’t want to say Ianto was any more important than anyone else here—their lives cut tragically short when the 456 aliens had released the fast and deadly virus into Thames House—the fact was, she needed Ianto alive. The entire universe possibly needed Ianto alive. She just hadn’t worked out why yet.

Ianto gasped suddenly, his eyes snapping open, gaze frantic as he looked around. She set her hands on his shoulders to stop him from getting up right away.

“Jack—Jack. We have to stop them—”

“Calm down, Mr. Jones. Just take a minute to get your breath back.” She glanced over her shoulder, but so far, Ianto’s miraculous resurrection had gone unnoticed by the two guards sitting at the very far end of the gym.

He focused on her, blue eyes impossibly bright.

“Who are you?”

“I’m The Doctor. And you, Mr. Jones, need to come with me.”

“The Doctor?” Ianto pulled out of her grasp, confusion in his features. “The Doctor. Jack told me about you. He said you had something to do with it, why he can’t die. He said you helped him. He said—he said you were a man.”

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, urging him up so they could make their getaway before the two guards finally noticed something was going on.

“Yes, I was a man. Now I’m a woman. Things change. Bodies regenerate. Now are you coming with me, or not?”

He did his best to get on his feet, still weak, swaying slightly against her.

“What happened to me?”

“You were sick, I made you better.” She got a firm arm around him to help keep him upright and led him away from his place among the dead.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here for a start.” They skirted the bodies, and Ianto paused as he suddenly seemed to realize where they were.

“All these people, they’re all dead.” He swayed again and she tightened her hold on him, snatching another glance at the soldiers.

“We can’t help them now. But if you want to help everyone else, then you need to come with me.”

“They’re dead because of us. Because we went in there and told them we weren’t going to give them the children.” They started moving again, but it wasn’t much more than a slow shuffle.

“You did the right thing, Ianto. It might not seem like it now, but you did the right thing.”

“Where’s Jack? Is he under one of these sheets? I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes up.” He paused again, casting a searching glance, like he was thinking about going back to search the bodies until he found Jack.

“Jack is gone. I’ll explain everything—”

“Gone?” Ianto pulled out of her hold, managing to stay upright, seeming a bit stronger now. “What do you mean Jack’s gone? He wouldn’t have left me. Not unless—”

The dawning realization on his face was heartbreaking. On both her hearts.

Ianto gasped a breath like he was in physical pain. “I have to go find him. He thinks I’m dead, doesn’t he?”

She held out her hands, trying to keep him calm. “Ianto, I know this doesn’t make any sense right now, but you can’t see Jack. He needs to think you’re dead. It’s the only way he’ll do what needs to be done.”

“That’s ballocks.” Ianto’s voice went up by twenty or so decibels, his blue eyes wet with unshed tears. “How can it be better to let him think I’m dead?”

The shouting finally got the attention of the two guards, who were looking like they were going to come over and intervene.

“Please, I’ll explain everything. I’ll take you to see Jack. But can we get out of here first?”

“Hey! You two!” One of the guards yelled out suddenly.

“Ianto, are you feeling any better yet?” she asked, watching the two guards dance around the bodies as they tried to hurry toward them.

He sniffed, wiping a hand over his face. “No, actually. I feel like microwaved death.”

“Then I’m sorry for this, but, run!”

She grabbed his arm and yanked him into action. They sprinted the remaining distance across the open floor of the gym and slammed through the doors into the corridor. Almost right away, Ianto pulled to a stop, gasping for air and bending over to brace his hands on his knees.

“I can’t— Need a second. Can’t run anymore.”

She yanked her sonic screwdriver out and locked the doors, scrambling the tumblers so even the key wouldn’t work. It’d give them a few extra minutes until the guards either broke the door or found another way around.

She took Ianto’s arm and helped him straighten. “Come on. No more running for now. I promise.”

No, they weren’t running, but she did hustle him into a very fast walk. By the time they reached the music room, he was practically stumbling, coughing over every breath. Just inside the familiar blue doors of the TARDIS, she finally let him go. While he sunk down on the floor to catch his breath, she rushed over to the console and fired up the engines.

She circled around, pushing buttons, turning knobs and throwing levers until the TARDIS breathed into life.

“Where are we?” Ianto used the railing to pull himself to his feet.

“The TARDIS. My ship. I assume Jack told you all about that as well.”

Ianto took a few slow steps forward, looking around. “He might have mentioned it.”

“Well?” She spun to face him and held out her arms.

“Well what?” He coughed again, pressing a hand against his chest with a grimace.

“You didn’t say the thing. Everyone has to say the thing the first time.”

“I’m sorry, what thing?”

She went over and took his hand, leading him around the console and sitting him down in the seat, dropping down next to him.

“It’s bigger on the inside. Although, once someone told me it was smaller on the outside. Clever, impossible girl. Not so good with words.”

Ianto stared at her, blinking, his brow furrowed like he was having trouble keeping up.

“About Jack—”

She huffed as she pushed to her feet. “What is people’s obsession with Jack Harkness? Those 51st century pheromones aren’t that great, I’ve smelled better. He’s a good kisser, I’ll give you that. But really, is he worth all the trouble that follows him around?”

“It’s not an obsession.” Ianto’s features tightened with anger. “I love him. And right now, he needs me. I don’t care what you say, letting him believe I’m dead can’t possibly be the best thing for anyone.”

She leaned against the console and crossed her arms. “I told you I’d take you to see him, and I will. But there’s something I need to show you first.”

“Something you need to show me?” He got to his feet, fists clenched. “We don’t have time for sight-seeing. The whole world—all those children. They’re in danger right now.”

“And they’ll always be in trouble right now, because it’s a fixed point in time I have no interest in messing up.”

Ianto’s brow creased, clearly trying to figure out what she was telling him.

“The TARDIS can go anywhere in space and time. Which means we can spare an hour or two to see a few things, and then I can drop you right back where you were, two minutes after we left. You won’t miss anything. Jack will still be there, I promise.”

“Then take me back now. I don’t want to see anything, I need to help Jack and Gwen.”

The TARDIS gave a familiar whooshing-wheezing noise before powering down.

“But we’re here, Mr Jones. And believe me, this is something you want to see.” She pushed away from the console and held out her hand.

“But he thinks I’m dead. I can’t even imagine how much that’s hurting him.” Ianto coughed, breath getting short, the after effects of the virus still playing havoc on his body.

She walked by him and went to find a glass of water. But then she got waylaid digging him up a bowler hat and pair of glasses. He was definitely going to need a disguise.

She returned a moment later to hand over the water. “Didn’t I just get through explaining the whole TARDIS time and space thing? We won’t let Jack think you’re dead any longer than we have to, okay?”

Just long enough to make sure he saved the little speck on the edge of the universe called Earth and all it’s amazing, infuriating inhabitants.

Ianto drank down every last drop of water in the glass and then exhaled a long breath.

“Fine, I’ll go see whatever it is you want me to see if it’ll get me back to Torchwood quicker.”

“Now we’re in business. Put these on.”

She plonked the hat on his head and held out the wide, square-rimmed glasses.

“What do I need these for?” He took the hat off, but she slipped it from his hand and put it right back on again.

“Don’t worry, you look charming. Bowler hats are cool. And it’s because we’re going incognito.”

He actually looked her up and down. “I don’t see you wearing any disguise.”

“This entire regeneration is a disguise, believe me.”

Grabbing his arm, she tugged him into motion, but he paused to set the empty glass on the nearest horizontal surface.

“Not on the control console, you heathen.” She grabbed the glass and tossed it over the railing. A second later it broke on the lower level in a tinkle of shards. She pulled him into motion as he gaped over his shoulder at where the glass had disappeared. “Don’t worry, the TARDIS will take care of that. But we don’t leave things on the console. I have rules now, you see. Ever since Amelia Pond left a half-eaten chocolate bar on there and it melted into the primary rift matrix. We got lost in this one binary system for weeks. It was not as fun as it sounds. I’m still finding little sticky bits of cocoa and sugar in places those substances should never go.”

“Right, no leaving things on the console,” Ianto replied, sounding a little overwhelmed.

They stepped through the doors of the TARDIS, out into the orange light of a red dwarf star. They’d landed at the edge of a bustling city square. On one side was a funky little craft market selling handmade gifts and collectables. Another side held a transport hub where people were coming and going from mono-rail-like shuttles. Over further, some kind of rally seemed to be happening.

“Where are we?” Ianto seemed positively dazed now.

“A little planet circling a little red star, seven-hundred-thousand light years from Earth and approximately… oh, five hundred years in the future.”

He looked this way and that, as if he didn’t know what to take in first. “These people, they’re all—”

“Human. You lot eventually colonize one end of the universe to the other, like adorable little rodents.”

He cut her a lightly indignant look, but didn’t reply.

“Anyway, we didn’t come here just to see some boring city.”

“Boring? On a planet five-hundred-years in the future, a gazillion light years from home?” Ianto shook his head. “This is so—”

Apparently, he didn’t have words for exactly what he thought it was.

“Amazing?” she supplied. She’d travelled so far and for so long, she often forgot to take in the wonder of the things she saw. That’s why she needed them. Companions. Friends picked up along the way. Through them, she remembered to get a little star-struck and appreciate the moments day-to-day. “Spectacular. The most astounding, breathless moment of your previously tiny existence.”

“I was going to say normal.” This time when he looked around, it was like he’d finally got everything together in his head, shaken off the last cobwebs of the virus that’d nearly killed him. He was still a little pale, but all things considered, it could have been worse. “It’s just people, and it all looks so normal.”

“Oh.” Ianto Jones was not like regular people. He said the unexpected. She liked it, and she was beginning to see why the enigmatic Captain Jack Harkness had fallen so hard for the charming Welshman. “Well then, let’s see if we can find something not-normal to surprise that single heart of yours.”

The look he gave her in return suggested Jack probably hadn’t told him about the two-hearts thing, which no doubt made that last statement sound completely odd. Most people found the things she said completely odd at one time or another. But it just made things all the more fun.

She led Ianto across the city square, down a busy block and into a little building nestled between two taller structures. When they walked in, the scent of incense enveloped them. A special incense of mind-altering properties, if breathed for too long. They wouldn’t be able to spend too long in here with that incense seeping into every pore, or anything could happen.

Soft low music was coming from somewhere, while hushed, relaxed-sounding voices chatted and laughed without disturbing the peace.

“What is this place, some kind of temple?” Ianto asked in a loud whisper.

“Something like that.”

They came to a wooden door and she pushed it open, waving an arm to indicate he should go first. He spent a long second looking at her, before stepping through.

She followed after him, but unsurprisingly, he’d pulled to a halt just inside.

“What the hell is going on here?” His voice was tight, gaze fixed straight ahead like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She studied his expression, since she’d already studied everything in this room for clues.

“I was hoping you could help me work that out.”

“That’s me.” He pointed, as if making sure she hadn’t failed to see it. Not that anyone with eyes could miss the sight. “That’s some kind of shrine with pictures of me all over it.”

“To be fair, some of them are of you and Jack.” There was another room just over from here that was solely dedicated to Jack. But considering she’d only just convinced Ianto to come with her instead of rushing back to let Jack know he was still alive, she didn’t think he needed to see that just now.

“But what the hell is it doing here. Why is it here? Are they—are they worshipping me or something?”

“Worshipping. Idolizing. Generally revering that gorgeous face of yours. Yup, they’re doing all that.”

“But, how? Why?”

“That, Mr. Jones, is what we’re here to find out.”

Read Chapter Two Here

[ciathyzareposts]

Game 335: Prophecy of the Shadow (1992)

               Prophecy of the Shadow

United States

Strategic Simulations, Inc. (developer and publisher)

Released in 1992 for DOS

Date Started: 24 June 2019               SSI began as a wargame company, and their best games–principally the Gold Box series and the Wizard’s Crown series–have always reflected those roots. Nonetheless, by 1992, the company seemed to be on a mission to dominate, or at least compete in, every RPG sub-genre. Eye of the Beholder and its sequel were their answers to the first-person, real-time category, while Shadow Sorcerer took inspiration from British axonometric titles. Neverwinter Nights had virtually no competition online, and they were entering the console realm with Dungeons & Dragons: Warriors of the Eternal Sun. The company’s streak of 22 published RPGs between 1991 and 1994 has never been broken on the personal computer. 

Prophecy of the Shadow is so blatantly the company’s answer to the Ultima VI that it’s a wonder they didn’t license the “look and feel” from Lord British the way they did for Questron. It’s got the same mostly-top-down-but-slightly-oblique perspective, the same row of icons with keyboard backups (even most of the icon symbols are the same), the same targeting of enemies and objects with a cursor, the same keyword-based NPC dialogue, and the same continuous scrolling movement through a landscape that desperately wants you to think it’s not just tiles but really is.            

Character creation even has some Ultima IV-style questions.

          But just like Ultima clones from independent developers with a lot fewer resources, Prophecy of the Shadow lacks a lot of Ultima’s complexity. To start, you control only one character. The box puts an exclamation point after the game’s single-character nature, as if that by itself is a good thing, as if other developers were sitting around thinking, “Gee, it never occurred to us to allow the player to control just one guy.” It also greatly simplifies the inventory–the protagonist can wield one object at a time and can wear nothing at all–and it runs dialogue by feeding the keywords to you. (In many ways, it’s more like Origin’s Times of Lore, which used an early version of the U6 interface, than Ultima VI.) Whether by intention or limitation, it’s clearly geared towards the RPG novice.            

The game map shows a small world. I already explored the northwest island.

            None of this means that it’s a bad game. There’s always a place for an easy, familiar title telling a new story. Here, the story is probably the game’s best feature. It calls upon familiar tropes without being overly cliched or obviously based on a single source. Told mostly in the form of the naive protagonist’s journals, the backstory casts the character as an apprentice mage in a world where magic is outlawed. In infancy, he washed ashore on the island of Bannerwick, which I gather is part of the larger kingdom of Ylowinn. This is a world in decline. Every season, the crops get smaller and plants go extinct. Mines are exhausted of ore. Civilization itself seems to be coming apart at the seams; when the local ferry to the mainland breaks down, no one bothers to repair it. A princess named Elspeth was supposed to take charge on her 18th birthday, but she mysteriously disappeared, leaving the land in the hands of the regent Cam Tethe, who blames a conspiracy of mages for the disappearance and spends more time hunting them than searching for Elspeth.             

An NPC delivers part of the backstory.

         The townsfolk distrusted a baby who managed to survive the sea unscathed, so it was left to the local healer, Larkin–himself regarded with suspicion–to raise and tutor the child. The child of course becomes you. You’ve had so little contact with the outside world all your life that when you head into town at the beginning of the game, no one knows who you are.           

“Yeah! I hope you find . . . him!”

         In the game’s opening moments–so sudden as to be comical, particularly with the accompanying scream–Larkin is assassinated by a thrown dagger, leaving the protagonist to bury him in the back yard. With his dying breath, Larkin tells his ward to “get the text of the prophecy from Berrin,” as “it must go to the council in Silverdale,” which is on the mainland.           

The main character’s master dies in the opening scenes.

                   In these opening moments and almost all the NPC dialogues that follow, we see that Prophecy of the Shadow was on the cutting edge of what would become the early- and mid-1990’s worst trend: the use of full-motion video (FMV) instead of computer animation (or just static graphics). Naturally, the subjects of these animations were whoever was sitting around the developers’ offices and not actual actors. Blessedly, it only seems to have been about five years before developers realized this was not the wave of the future, and I don’t remember seeing FMV after about 1998, though of course there are a lot of titles I haven’t played.           

A little FMV upon entering the inn.

         Character creation is a simple process of giving your name and sex. A few role-playing questions set your initial values for health, magic, and agility. Health and magic are both attributes and pools of points, and the maximum goes up with successful actions (swinging weapons and casting spells), which is a bit different than the Ultima titles. These attributes automatically regenerate, albeit slowly, as long as you have food. If you run out of magic points, you can still cast spells, but they draw directly from your health.

A row of icons–all, blessedly, with keyboard equivalents–defines how you interact with the world: look, attack, cast a spell, enter, drop, search, use, give, and rest. “Search” on Larkin’s door mat revealed an iron key to his house, but all I can do there is spend the night.              

Using the L)ook command–and learning a new piece of vocabulary.

           As I began the game, the passages through the forest around Larkin’s house naturally guided me to his neighbor, Berrin, who related that rumors have already spread that I killed Larkin. He gave me the key to Larkin’s workshop but otherwise wouldn’t help me (including giving me the prophecy) until I could prove my innocence. Behind Berrin’s house, incidentally, are two gravestones–his wife and son–both “killed by guardsmen.” I wonder if that bit of backstory will later come out.

Larkin’s workshop was accessed through an underground hatch near the house. There, I found a book of spells and a “lead catalyst.” You have to be holding a catalyst in your hands to cast a spell, and I guess lead is the lowest-level catalyst. The book had four spells: “Incendiere” is a basic fire blast that strikes one target; “Curare” is a healing spell; and “Memoria” and “Repetere” are a pair of mark/recall spells that let you designate a point and later warp back to it.

Using the game map as a guide, I eventually made my way to town, where I found about half a dozen NPCs, including some generic “peasants.” You converse by selecting keywords on the left side of the screen. As the NPCs respond, more keywords appear. Today, the local news was that the sheriff had caught Robin One-Eye, a famed bandit whose gang lives in the woods north of town. I was able to visit Robin One-Eye in jail but he just taunted me.          

Getting lore from a local. Where did a bunch of programmers get access to so many actors who look like unwashed peasants with bad facial hair?

        I also heard some talk of Larf the Terrible, a gnome wizard who lives in a tower to the east. There was a note in Larkin’s workshop that a circle of mages expelled Larf for necromancy. I suspect that either Robin or Larf is responsible for Larkin’s death, and I’ll somehow need to prove it to get off the island.

The local shop had some weapons and other items that were outside my price range, although the innkeeper was willing to pay me 10 silver for odd jobs. I repeated this option about 8 times before he finally said he had nothing more for me to do. I bought a sling and a torch but spent most of my money on food.

Outside of town, I started encountering bandits. Attacking is a matter of hitting “A” (or the attack button) and then moving the cursor to your foe. If you have a melee weapon equipped, you can only target the 8 squares around you. (Well, technically you can target your own square, but the game just admonishes you not to attack yourself.) If you have a missile weapon, you can aim anywhere in the visible window. Missile weapons are tricky because enemies will typically move out of the square before the missile reaches them, meaning that you really want to attack the square in the direction they’re going. It strikes me that missile weapons are going to be mostly useless in this game. There simply isn’t enough distance in the view window, and enemies close the gap too fast.

You can cast a spell instead of attacking by using the spell catalyst–or, if it’s already equipped, hitting the M)agic button. At the outset, I only had “Incendiere,” which kills most enemies in a couple of castings, but two castings cost 20 magic points out of the 45 I started with.

If you choose to fight with a weapon, your health occasionally goes up a point. If you cast spells, your magic pool occasionally goes up a point. This is the game’s approach to “character development.”          

My health increases as I kill a bandit.

         Slowly, I explored the rest of the island. It turned out there were two major indoor areas to explore: the bandit camp and Larf’s tower. You need a rope from the former to access the latter. I needed a password to enter the bandit camp, which required me to trudge back to town and buy Robin One-Eye a bottle of white zinfandel before he would tell it to me: ZINFANDEL.            

Why does zinfandel have such a bad reputation? I rather like it.

         The bandit camp was one small level and one large level. I had to kill a bunch of bandits. I rather like the game’s search function. If you wander over to a chest, a dead body, or just an interesting area, you hit S)earch, and the game tells you what you find. It’s rather tolerant in its distance allowance, so you don’t have to hit the command every step. A lot of what you find are notes, journals, and other writings that flesh out the game’s lore.

The bandit camp held a few healing potions, a rope, a rapier (better than the starting dirk), a magic potion, and several black potions. The black potions are acid that damage you when you drink them, so I’m not sure what good they do. Late in the dungeon, I fought and killed a “mage killer,” who was carrying a “death warrant” for Larkin.              

The “T,” of course, probably stands for “Tethe.”

            A book called The Joy of Pies held a treasure map that directed me to a specific square from one of the stone heads on the island. There, I found a chest with several pieces of jewelry.

By now, I was running up against the inventory limit, which dogged me the rest of the session. It became clear that you want to drop most items as soon as their utility is done, including keys and notes. Actually, a better idea is probably selling them to the general store, because the store keeps sold items in their inventory and will re-sell them to you in case you made a mistake. The problem is that you constantly have to leave locations and trudge back to the general store. I ended up selling most of the black potions because I couldn’t find any use for them and they were preventing me from picking up other things. I also sold all the jewelry I found, assuming it was for that purpose.              

A few too many things in my backpack.

           Showing the death warrant to the sheriff cleared my name, and showing it to Berrin prompted him to give me the prophecy on a vellum scroll. I read the prophecy. Larkin’s notes indicted that “most of it has already come to pass.”            

And it shall come to pass that in the day, the end of all days, a Shadow will come forth from the wilderness. The Lord of the Shadows, the Bringer of Darkness, the Master of Death. At his hand, Evil will arise anew. Green fields will wither, and a plague will smite the land. Cry mothers for your children, for when you see these things, know ye that the fate of the world hangs in the Balance.

              It’s probably going to turn out that Cam Tethe is the Lord of the Shadows, but it would be nice if the game had some kind of twist on the standard template, like maybe it’s me (I did kind-of come out of the wilderness). Either way, I had to get off the island. Since the ferry was broken, I turned to the only place I hadn’t explored: Larf’s tower. It sits in a ruined heap on the coast, near a graveyard where a ghost wanders. I tried talking to him, but it didn’t work.           

Maybe later, I’ll find a “Seance” spell.

         A rope gets you into the basement of the tower, which turned out to consist of five levels. Every one is dark, so you need a light source. The game keeps track of torches as a statistic, along with food and silver, rather than as inventory items, but you need a flint and steel in your inventory to light them. An alternative is to purchase a lamp and lamp oil, the latter of which is also tracked as a statistic. It would be a waste of inventory space, I gather, to have both a lamp and flint and steel.           

Arriving in the dungeon.

         The levels of Larf’s tower were full of evidence of Larf’s macabre experiments, including zombies that I had to kill. His notes indicated that he was more than a necromancer: he was a serial killer, having captured living subjects for many of his rituals. These notes also said that he eventually created an undead butler to serve him, but the creature went insane, stole something called a “translocation rod,” and hid it in a lower level of the tower. Larf was apparently making plans to destroy the creature when it attacked him in his bed at night, killing him and leaving his severed head behind.            

Later, I killed the butler, Jeffers, with fireballs.

          This scene is graphically illustrated, and it’s worth making a note that the graphics are detailed enough that they can show rather than just tell evocative stories like this. This hasn’t been true of many games up until now, but it’s good to see it becoming more common. We’ll of course see another murder scene with the same level of gruesome detail in the upcoming Ultima VII.         

The gruesome scene.

         I eventually killed the butler–the hardest creature in the game so far–with a few “Incendiere” spells. I recovered the rod, which allows transportation to the mainland when used between a couple of stones northwest of the tower. I also had the option to take Larf’s head. I have it for now, but I ‘m not sure if there’s any long-term use for it. Other treasure included a better catalyst (platinum), a magic weapon called a “Dirk of Sharpness,” and a scroll that gave me the “Inlustare” (light) spell.             

Now I guess I can eschew both lamps and torches.

          I used the rod in the right location and found myself transported to the mainland. I explored a while before concluding that I was in the northern part of the map, near the town of Glade. Larkin insisted that the prophecy had to get to Silverdale, to my southeast, but I’m tempted to go to the northern tip to the town of Malice and work my way systematically down to Silverdale.

So far, it’s been an inoffensive little game, but I wonder if there was really much of a market for a “lite” RPG. Were there legions of gamers in 1992 thinking, “I’d really like to play role-playing games, but they’re just too complicated“? I guess we’ll see when we check the reviews. I can’t imagine this one will take more than three entries, but perhaps it has some tricks up its sleeve.

Time so far: 4 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-335-prophecy-of-the-shadow-1992/