Here in the Darkness/Archive One

Archive one for the cyoa game *Here in the Darkness*.

## introduction

(not bothering with the title to make it actually sound interesting)

Hi, Tilan here, and I've decided to hop on the bandwagon (or cart. or sofa. whatever) and do a choose-your-own-adventure game alongside Ginger's. I swear I normally don't just go with the flow on everything, it's just that - \*takes deep breath\* I am infatuated with cyoa games. Honestly, they're my favourite pastime. Second to Werewolf, that is.

I take it that most of you know how to go about this, but just to make things clearer: I will be posting this in a series of threads, and on each thread I will ask you to vote between several choices. The story will continue on the option that gets the most votes, and so on.

You cannot vote once voting is closed, but you can always vote on the current active post. Late-joiners welcome :)

\*tries and fails to think of something else to say\*

And to make this more interactive, you can suggest extra options in the replies, and vote for an extra option that someone else thought of. I might vote for an extra if I feel in the mood to (but I will never vote for my own choices because that makes no sense :p). In the end, if it happens that an extra got the most number of votes, and it is an achievable course of action in the world, I'll write that instead :D

(no narrative because Tilan can't think of any) Choose your game :)

1). A human wanderer across lands, journeying now at the metropolitan city of Levispolis. Set in the same world as South of the Sunset, an urban fantasy universe that is a mix of the medieval ages and somewhere around the beginning of the industrial revolution, with werewolves, vampires, witches, wizards, soul-sellers, (mostly) suited to modern life.

2). A young lenix (species of canine) dwelling in a tribe sneaking out to attend a conference held by a said traveller from the desert. Set in Ecapeht, a pure animal fantasy world that is as erratic as possible, spiced with a sugar topping of war and politics and war.

3). An immortal entity lying low (living by the name of Serafine Ferrier - the same character in Ode to a Forgotten Sister, a story which I will write... someday...), not knowing that an enemy has found her trail. Set in the modern world, mostly urban fantasy :)

***The players chose option two.***

i

*Honestly, I never thought two would win xD I was hoping for number one or three (I have no idea why I even put 2 as one of the choices), but somehow nearly everyone seemed to like canines... especially after I said that it was my least prepared plot...*

*If I had known that earlier, I would have said that number three was the one I thought over the least :p*

The crashing of the foliage jerks you awake from your nap. You glance up at the sky: the sun, ever-present on the sunwards horizon, is still two-thirds light. Early afternoon. Around you in your camp, you can hear the distracted muttering of the others as they are pulled from their dozing.

Lenixes dwell by night, and mostly by themselves. Even as a tribe, you form into various subgroups of three or four that almost never mingle. It is somewhat of a miracle that lenix tribes can function quite smoothly (albeit with a few minor hits and bumps), but then, again, it's just life. Your species have been living in cohesive groups for thousands of years, but there's always something in you that calls out to your fox ancestry.

You listen. Three canines approaching, two of whom are fighters and hunters of your own. The other, a stranger. Glances pass between your fellow tribe members, but they are the looks of spectators waiting for a show rather than dedicated souls nervous about the coming foreigner. An intruder? Fine. It's someone else's problem, and it's under control. Let them deal with it.

The stranger comes, flanked by the hunters. He is lean and slightly built, his coarse yellow fur shivering as he breathed in shallow breaths. You can see the fear reflected in the pits of his eyes, and there are a few recent scars on his flank. A savage yank, and he is pulled to the middle of your camp. "*Speak.*"

He clears his throat, trying his best to repress his anxiety, even though his scent gives him away obviously as anything.

"I come as an emissary from the Swallows. I wish to see the Mistress Lianswick."

You have to admire the way your leader steps out from what was apparently part of the bush, her eyes glimmering. She is what a queen will be like, except for perhaps the fact that you don't have a queen. A special kind of ruthless grace radiated off her. "I am here, messenger."

"Mistress," he dips his head. "Master Rlorrck of the Swallows presents his compliments, and enquires if you -"

"Skip the niceties. Just tell me the message."

"I am here on a premise of supposed peace, Mistress. It would perhaps be more convenient if you may allow these two guards off me, and choose to discuss this matter in a location that is more private." he gestures towards the two hunters still on either side of him with a reserved flick of his tail.

"You are a trespasser on Night-Swift land, messenger. I will deal with both this matter and you in whichever way I prefer. Nothing will be kept private from our tribe, and as for you..." she bares her teeth, "you are on Night-Swift soil. Watch your tongue. Well, you'd better, anyway, or else soon it will not be your tongue anymore." She smiles, flexing her claws and running one of them across an imaginary throat.

(the Night-Swifts and the Swallows are not on good terms: even though the Swallows officially declare neutrality, they are still providing support, food, and shelter to your enemies while accusing you of crossing the borders at every opportunity, with one past border argument resulting in your tribe's camp being ambushed while you were reasoning with the Swallows. You suspect that the Swallows did this on purpose, since this occurred several times, but you can find no evidence, and the matter remains heated to this day.)

1) Chant for the death of the messenger

2) Speak out on behalf of the messenger

3) Just watch and do nothing

Also, we're doing two votes simultaneously this time, since we need to decide on who the main character actually is for me to write this properly. Would you prefer to be...

1) Sionora, an 11-month-old (human age about 13) female with pale dust-coloured tabby fur, rich amber eyes, a thin tail that hangs down to the ground when idle, and medium-length ears

2) Erasmus, a 14-month-old (human age about 18) male with muted orangish-red fur, pale yellow eyes, a long coarse tail, and slightly large ears

3) Alessandra, an 8-month-old (human age about 10) female with red fur, green eyes, a medium-sized tail, and medium ears

***The players chose options one and one, respectively.***

ii
--

You start a chant under your breath, one that spreads around the camp like a tidal wave in slow motion, picking up more voices as it splashes across. Soon, the whole tribe is filled with yells for the emissary's death, the sound thrumming through the forest. He looks more alone than he ever was, but still he stood unmoving. From your spot you can see the shaking of his legs.

Lianswick smiles again the slow widening grin of a serpent. "See, messenger? Our tribe does not want you here. You and your endless prattling. Now, please, go before we make it so that you will never leave this place again."

"I believe that would not be preferable." He stares hard at the ground in front of him, not gazing up to meet her eyes.

"Is that so?" She circles him slowly in the prowl of the hunt, her tail once brushing up against his side. He winces from the touch, but still his feet and eyes remain rooted to the ground, not daring to take a step in any direction. The tribe was baying for blood.

"Mistress, any act that results in injury or loss of life unto me -" he gulps slightly, " - will be treated as a direct insult and a declaration of war upon the Swallows. I came here under the pretext of peace, and I have matters not concerning this war to be discussed."

The yelling ceases, and now only a distant muttering is present in your ranks. The Swallows fully engaging themselves in this war would, as he said, not be preferred.

Lianswick nods. "Your point is taken. We shall go somewhere else."

He smiles, whether out of nervousness, triumph, or just the sake of smiling, you will never know. Perhaps a mixture of all three. With a quick step that had a scampering quality to it, he follows your leader out of the camp, soon vanishing behind the trees. The rest of your tribe, realising that the show was over, tuck their heads beneath their tails and resume napping once more. You, however, keep your ears open as they pad away.

"Yes, it is the time," he is saying as he walks, "every fourteen years."

"The Wanderer's apprentice is his own business. Why should we get involved?" Lianswick's voice, you notice with fascination, is much more friendly when she's away from the tribe. Distance has somehow converted the former menace into mere grudging. Interesting

"The gathering, Mistress. It is tradition. Now, if you please..."

*Gatherings?!* Lenixes have never been social creatures. The tension between the tribes has been going on for as long as anyone can remember, and a meeting of the tribes at this time will be suicide.

They walk out of earshot, and you can catch no more of the conversation.

You...

1) Stalk after them and try to overhear them as they talk (note that Lianswick is famed for both her stealth and her hearing)

2) Ask the two hunters about the stranger from the Swallows

3) Try to find out about the Wanderer and the gathering from your fellow Night-Swifts

***The players chose option one.***

## iii

*Well, well. Poor Sionora...*

You glance around the woods. Most of the tribe is gently asleep by now, with only a few awake and lost in their own thoughts. Valissa, your friend, sees you getting up and shoots a questioning wink in your direction. You glance back at her before you leave, not really bothering to explain, and she, in her turn, makes no move to follow you.

Lenixes may have friends, but it is rare for any two canines to be *best* friends. You are a solitary species by nature.

You make your way over to the edges of the camp as casually as possible. A few look up and then turn away after a minute, disinterested, and you smile like you are going out for a hunt, just in case. No one, except possibly Valissa (who is now watching you through half-closed eyes), seems to have noticed. Good.

Lianswick and the envoy's scents hang in the air in a clear trail - not hard to follow, not at all. The difficult part was staying undetected. Your leader is one of the finest stalkers in the forest, and she doesn't hide it. She comes and goes without a trace, and many Night-Swifts still carry the cold memory of her voice slithering behind their necks and the heartbeat of absolute terror.

But still, you're one of the stealthier members of the tribe, and the curiosity's simply too much to resist.

Your steps are light as you tread upon the forest floor, moving with silent ease in much the same way that air drifts by reassuringly on the wind. You can hear them now again, their voices whispers on the breeze.

"*All* the tribes?"

It is Lianswick, presumably in reply to something the Swallow said. You hide yourself in a bush, careful not to make the leaves rustle.

"Yes. Even those who may choose to disregard social life and live alone on faraway terrain. It is more like a festival rather than an official conference between leaders since that would rather be on the implausible scale of things under any circumstance."

"And then he just turns up and picks out an apprentice or whatever?"

"The process itself is a bit obscured, but -"

"Wait." Lianswick nods, apparently to herself. And then, without turning around, "*you can come out now,* Sionora. You've been listening to this conversation for long enough."

There wasn't any option, really. You climb out of the bush, tail drooping in shame. Lianswick's eyes seem to reflect the shadows of distant firelights, burning red in the dark. She was about to snap, you can see that; and you shrink back, dreading what will happen, when...

...The Swallow cuts in. "Go easy on the young one. There is no harm done."

You start breathing again, though it is still too early to relax.

"Fine, I suppose. But Sionora, *let me catch you* doing this again and you will not see the end of it, do you hear? Back you go, now."

You nod silently, unable to utter even a "Yes, Mistress" before bolting, your heart up tight against your chest as you scarper towards the camp, crashing through the undergrowth and ripping into the vines.

Valissa lifts an eyelid as you return, your breath still tense.

"Everything went well?" She pauses, and sees your expression. "Not good then, I guess. Want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, unable to speak.

"Fine. I think he's kinda cute, really."

You glance up. "*What?*"

"That Swallow, of course. Don't you think so?"

Faced with this remark, you...

1) wish to understand more, and ask Valissa why she thinks that

2) do not believe her, and express your indignation

3) answer with a straight, disinterested "no", thus ending the conversation

4) discover that you find the emissary attractive as well and agree sincerely

5) laugh and tease her, hiding the fact that you sort of agree (custom option suggested by Ginger)

***The players chose option five.***

iv
--

"Of course," you laugh, "and tonight you two will be away from the borders and singing under the stars, with grand mists rolling over the trees and a soft silver light on the horizon."

She grins sheepishly. "Well, it's not that, I mean -"

"I'll just go and tell Lians to excuse you from the tribe over the next few weeks, shall I? Due to all that time you have to spend moping around with him."

"Come on, don't take it that way. I just said he's cute. I'm not in love or anything, not really," she sniffs. "Well, maybe a little bit, but who cares? It's normal, and it's not as if I'm going to run off with him or anything. And anyway... I thought the Witch⁽¹⁾ was not on good terms with you?"

You shrug aimlessly. "It was fun to say. But true, not an exactly well-functioning relationship."

"He's not that bad though - real smooth talker, haven't you noticed?"

"All I saw was his legs shaking."

"Yeah, that too. He's nervous as a stumped rat but he forks words with his tongue. Rather interesting, I thought."

You nod vaguely, a universal gesture that can symbolise anything.

"Running off isn't that bad, you know. Lianswick did it, when she was young."

You perk up. "Haven't heard that one before."

"Oh, it's not just a rumour. She started off as someone in another tribe, and then she ran off with some loner-guy-or-other and started our tribe. There are always new tribes springing up whenever lenixes run away. Happens all the time," she dips her head. "They usually don't last long though."

"What happened to that loner-or-whatever?"

"Dunno. Probably got killed in a fight or something. It happens. Just don't tell anyone you got the information from me, okay?"

"Sure," you smile as a thought strikes you, "and I suppose you're unable to tell me how you know?"

She grins. "You know me, I've got a bad memory for lenixes. Absolutely *no* idea who told me in the first place."

Lianswick emerges from the undergrowth, still talking with the Swallow. They appeared to have reached an agreement, and were walking quite close to one another.

She turns toward him as they reach the camp. "All settled then?"

"Yes, Mistress. I shall be making my leave in a short amount of time. The Swallows thank you for your hospitality."

"No offence taken," she sniffs. "Someone, escort him to the border. It would be unpleasant if he accidentally lost his way in our territory." There was still an inch of threat in her voice, but it came out softer, and more like a joke than a serious menace.

He dips his head. "Mistress."

You can feel Valissa getting uncomfortable beside you, not wanting for him to leave. She's indecisive, you realise: she does not know whether to go up to him and talk with him before he leaves, or just to stay here watching.

You...

1) Prod Valissa, signalling that if she wants to talk to him, she should do so now

2) Rush up to him after he leaves the camp, inquiring about the Wanderer and the whole matter

3) Ask him what his name is, making it impossible for Valissa to talk with him herself before he leaves.

***The players chose option three.***

## interlude

Tilan: \*yanks up Kiera, hissing\* You do the talking.

Kiera: It's always me who -

Tilan: Just do it

Kiera: \*cough\* Okay guys, I know this is sudden, but we have a commercial break -

Tilan: - interlude!

Kiera: As I was saying, we have a commercial break here, which is basically the result of some... previous choices made by you, the community, as a major portion of you seemed bent on causing the regrettable passing of our main character in as quickly a manner as possible. This causes certain problems, since that I, who does all the writing and now all the speaking as well thankyouverymuch, have approximately no inkling of how to shape the plot.

Kiera: So, yeah. Just vote for your current aim in the game and I'll see how I can adjust it to fit your interests. If you want to cause disruption, I can arrange that with no problem :)

Kiera: I probably won't make any more posts of this kind - this is the vote to decide the general direction of the game. I might put in extra goal votes about every several posts from now on, but only as a second vote together with the choices, and not changing the general tone.

What is your current aim in the game?

1) Just following the plot, surviving, and finding things out. But mostly just surviving.

2) Trying to achieve as much in the game as possible (power, stats, adventures, etc) in the normal way.

3) Disrupting the society as much as possible (breaking up friendships, revolutions against your leader, etc)

4) The pursuit for absolute power; the dream shared by all creatures, to rule supreme over all

5) Other (PLEASE SPECIFY)

***The players chose option three.***

v

You stand up from your dozing position. "Swallow? You haven't told us your name yet."

He pauses and stares at you blankly, as if the question has slightly puzzled him on some level. "Haleer. Just Haleer."

"Thanks."

He looks from you, and then to Valissa. Perhaps sensing her barely suppressed eagerness, he adds, "anything else you want to know?"

You see Valissa opening her mouth to speak, and, smooth like a knife through warm butter, you cut your voice in front of hers. "No, thanks. It's enough."

He nods, and steps out from the camp, following the escort. All the while, Valissa's glare burns into your side like a scythe in hot lava, scalding, relentless, the fury of - you try to think of a justifiable comparison - a Fury.

"You sod," she whispers in your right ear, when he had gone. "You freaking did that on purpose."

You shrug. "Maybe."

She rises, spits air at you, and hurries in his direction, her run speeding into a gallop through the woods. You didn't bother following her.

Valissa comes back after some while, seeming to be a bit higher in spirits after her talk, though a growl starts in the depths of her throat whenever you pass near her. She refuses to talk to you, and in return, you don't talk to her.

Lianswick called a meeting at half-dark, saying simply the fact that there is a gathering of the tribes in twelve days to be held on neutral territory, and that it is known to be a traditional event. This causes some murmuring among the members.

"Neutral territory? I thought there wasn't such a place in the whole forest," someone mutters in the crowd.

"It's Swallow land," says Lianswick, with a flick of her tail, "out on the moor. The Swallows have been the estimated keepers of the tradition, and the place is, at least, theoretically, neutral. It is considered off-limits to hunt on that turf. The ones on the plains respect that also, and they let us keep it."

"- but we may hunt at the gathering?"

"It was supposed to be an informal festival for all the tribes to unite together," Lianswick chuckles at an invisible joke, "under a common sky, in peace. Of course, we all know how impossible that would prove, but it works in theory. You may do as you wish."

You notice Val sitting on the other side blink excitedly at the news, and roll your eyes at the sight - a movement which she catches and shoots another glare at.

The meeting dismissed, the night goes over as normal. You hunt for a bit, and, content, spend some more time listening in on conversations that have nothing to do with you. You make nothing of them, and deliberately avoid Valissa's presence, not that she made any attempt to approach you.

The day was tedious as well. Just natural life, some rough spots concerning a few social relationships, and long light naps, interrupted by the occasional falling of Quercus Taciticus seeds.

And thus, it was only to be expected that you saw Valissa sneaking out at near-midnight. Going out at this time is, in itself, a perfectly normal thing to do; but from her stance and her eyes you can see that this was no hunting trip. She was going to do something, she was eager for it, and she did not want anyone else to know that she was away.

You...

1) Walk up casually and ask her what she is doing

2) Casually head over to Lianswick and tell your leader

3) Wait for a few moments, and then follow her

***The players chose option one.***