Chapter 1: Awakening

Deep in the depths of the Pit of Despair something was brewing and cooing and oozing in there.

Its tendrils were legs. It came from an egg. Its magical qualities were exceptionally rare.

The power to grow and the power to change. With every piece of an enemy its form rearranged.

Life everlasting, its hidden skill. And inside its heart, the desire to kill.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Omar shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"It was frozen in a block of ice near the burial ground at Old Snow Mountain," Kahli said as she nervously dribbled a small boulder with her oversized left foot, trying to keep herself from cringing at Omar's language.

Stroking the coarse hair flowing from gaps in the living wood covering his face, Omar studied the scroll with an aloof gaze. "Hmm. Aged fairly well. And while the text is complete gibberish, at least it's written in a convincing form of eldenscript."

"Omar, what are you-"

Before Kahli could continue her thought, Omar raised his stiff right arm and pointed it at the unfurled scroll. A burst of flames erupted all over his arm and engulfed the scroll, instantly incinerating it. Omar took a deep breath and lowered his arm as the flames subsided.

With a crackle and a boom, a huge bolt of lightning struck off in the far distance, echoing so loudly that surely half of the entire world of Nomachiato must've heard it. Kahli's ears were ringing when it subsided, and she was shivering with fear. The ground rumbled so that even in the high tower of the Gifflenberg Historical Society the floor shook and the doors rattled. Quakes such as this were often said to be restless dragons stirring deep under the firmament of Nomachiatio. The thought of this sent shivers down Kahli's spine.

"Omar, what's happening? It's almost like the world is ending or something! It feels apoclyptic."

"Fret not, my apprentice," Omar smiled at Kahli and patted her shoulder with his left and only hand. "If I didn't get five hundred of these silly scrolls every moons cycle, it might've passed for a real prophecy scroll. But the tells were all there. I could've clocked that shit from a thousand paces away."

"Tells?"

"Oh my, yes. You see, the scroll unfurled in the wrong direction when I initially held it up. Real prophetic scrolls are always twisted in a counter-clockwise fashion." Omar laughed at his own assessment. "Plus there were small tears in the paper. Real prophetic scrolls only have big tears in the paper. Most damning of all was that the scroll's eldenscript had a few misspelled words. Real prophetic scrolls are written by seers, whomst would never make a grammatical error."

"But what about the lightning? And the quaking?" She was finding it difficult to speak without stuttering.

"Just a spot of bad weather, Kahli. Trust me, when you get to my age, you'll understand that things like this have a tendency to just... blow over."

Gray, looming clouds gathered in the sky and a huge gust of wind billowed through the city. A large weather sock that had been installed to the top of Gifflenberg Town Hall five centuries prior ripped right off and slammed into a glass supply shop, shattering the business's entire supply.

"Omar, it seems like something terrible is going to happen!"

"Pfft. Nobody liked that glass shop anyways. They gave me a quote to refit my sunroom, gods, you ought to have seen what they were charging. And that old wind sock had so many holes in it, Kahli. I'd say it was long due for a replacement. Really, this is a good thing."

Kahli scrunched her nose, twisting and cracking the plaster covering her face. It made her feel and look like a much younger tauman than she really was - a bit of a double edged sword. She'd get living wood on her face one of these days.

"What, you disagree?" Omar raised a hairy eyebrow up from under his living wood face-form, peeking at Kahli like a sinister caterpillar. "Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. I'd never destroy an actual relic. This one was a fake, a mockery of Theseosus herself! Blessed be her mighty pincers."

Omar gestured with a sardonic sneer to the large, marble statue that took up a good thirty percent of his office space. Carved expertly was a large, three-headed mantis. Each of its heads had three eyes, and those eyes had the most exquisite eyelashes the world of Nomachiato could dream up. He saw the structure as little more than a tax write-off, but Kahli took it a little more seriously.

"Blessed be her mighty pincers," Kahli echoed respectfully, dipping her head briefly in acknowledgment as she beheld the statue with reverence. "But, um, Omar, if you don't mind me asking, what if it was a real prophecy scroll?" She cowered as he glared with anger and impatience. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"It wasn't."

"How do you know it wasn't?"

"Because I said it wasn't. I know what I'm talking about. Even if it was, you'd have to take that up with the mayor," Omar said with a sigh. "And of course you'd no longer be my apprentice, since you'd be complicit in the destruction of a historical artifact."

Kahli looked at the spotless stone floor with shame.

"Thankfully for us all, it wasn't real. Even if by some miraculous twist of fate it was, it'd be far too late to do anything anyway since I've already destroyed it. There's no record of it even existing other than the ashes on my office floor, which I'd like you to please sweep up and dispose of when we're done with this meeting, by the way." Omar chuckled and shook his head. "I remember when I was just like you, Kahli. Young, ambitious, and eager to find a prophecy outlining our doom. But you can't let some crazy, lice-covered scam artists scrawling on parchment live rent-free in your head."

Kahli did her best to keep the face under her plaster covering from betraying any more strong emotions as the sound of Omar speaking that dreaded, culturally insensitive phrase ice-covered - which, unlike the case with small insects nestled in hair follicles, was a derogatory reference to ice elementals - echoed in her head.

"Well, enough hard work for today." Omar smiled.

"What do you mean? It's only mid-morning, Omar," said Kahli with confusion.

"Time is irrelevant," said Omar.

Kahli wasn't entirely certain what Omar meant, but in her head she pictured a large, porcelain pachyderm with a booming clock etched into its wrinkly hide.

"The mental load we've born over the course of this morning is more than three days worth of work at the very least. Lifting either our fingers or our minds for one moment more would get us on the path of an early death."

"But you said you want me to sweep up the ashes. And if I don't work a minimum of six revelations a day for the entirety of this moon cycle I won't get my course credit!"

"Oh, very well then. Sweep up the ashes and wax every spiral staircase in the building." Omar sighed. "I'll check on your work tomorrow. I expect perfection!"

"But Omar-"

Before Kahli could argue any more, Omar reached above his head and pulled a beaded cord. His leather office chair shot down to the floor as a portion of the office ceiling folded in and opened up to the gloomy sky. Suddenly, Omar's chair sprung up, catapulting him into the air, through the hole, and up into the rapidly turbulent clouds. He cackled as the ceiling closed back up and he sailed away to Theseosus knew where.

Kahli shook her head. She had intended to remind Omar that the Gifflenberg Historical Association had a dedicated team of staircase waxing professionals. As a result, any individual waxing she performed would be for naught and it would indeed be illegal due to Waxer's Union regulations for her to take such work into her own hands. But it was just as well that Omar had forgotten that. Like how he'd forgotten to look at the back of the scroll he'd just burned to ashes. Kahli knew if Omar had remembered to look, he surely would've noticed the seal of authenticity placed on it about five centuries prior by the Upper Echelon.

Of course it was too late now. The scroll was gone and there was nothing much to be done other than follow Omar's instructions. Kahli swept up the ashes and tossed them into Omar's magical bin, which in a flume of flame further incinerated them, as if that was even necessary.

Kahli realized that Omar was a gifted fire elemental, but she couldn't help but think of him as a bit of a silly pyro. With that task completed Kahli resolved to get started on the real work - damage control.

"The mayor can't see you right now," whined the nasal voice of the skinny plant elemental.

"Why not?" Kahli was not concerned in this moment with whether she was contorting the plaster on her face into rude facial expressions. It literally felt like the end of the world outside, a torrential downpour had started that was flooding the entire downtown area. Kahli herself had to rip barnacles off her legs as she had entered the palace.

"Because the mayor is busy, because it is midday, and because you don't have an appointment." The plant elemental put their hands on their hips and huffed a strand of hair out of their glowing yellow eyes.

"I don't care if you think I need ointment," said Kahli with indignation. "How moisturized my hands are is none of your business, and I'm not going to let it keep me from seeing the mayor. Good day to you!"

Kahli stormed past the attendant in a huff and pushed open the tall, thronging doors of the mayor's palace.

She entered the foyer, where a couple of peacocks were strutting around aimlessly. It smelled like fresh bubblegum, and every step Kahli took echoed brilliantly. Kahli noticed that the echo of her left foot was a little louder than that of her right. She felt a little embarrassed, although the peacocks didn't seem to mind.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing in here?" asked a voice. It was a small lady in a long robe, carrying a glowing staff. She had kind eyes, but the wood covering her face looked worn and scornful.

Kahli communicated her task, making great efforts to conceal the fact that she wasn't necessarily supposed to be there. Thankfully, the lady was receptive, though whether this was by nature of her being the receptionist one could not be entirely certain.

Soon Kahli was riding in a silky, green elevation pod. It smelled kind of sugary, as they often did - elevation pods used a unique combination of suction, glucose processing, and capillary action to raise and lower themselves through different floors of a building. These were developed by plant elementals long ago, but were still quite expensive to establish and maintain. Hence Omar's office only having spiral staircases.

The budget for the entire Historical Review Board was but a quarter of the mayor's catering budget (it is important to note yet again that the enormous Theseosus sculpture was but a tax write-off). Of course, that was only part of the story. You could make the argument that, while the upfront cost of elevation pods was high, they required little to no maintenance and carried few additional costs to maintain - whereas staircases such as those in Omar's building that required regular waxing sessions in order to be kept in their prime were constantly costing a pretty penny due to this requirement. This was especially so considering that the people waxing the floors were part of a union.

Kahli had made this exact argument to Omar many times, but every time he'd simply laughed at her. It was just the way things were done in Gifflenberg, he'd say with a smirk. Marinating on this, Kahli wondered if Omar's suggestion to her to wax the staircases earlier was some sort of tongue-in-cheek jab at her instead of a serious request.

Then, Kahli thought better of it. Omar wasn't known for his forethought. Or his backthought, or, really, for any thought at all. If he had thought for a second, maybe he wouldn't have incinerated that prophecy scroll. But it was fine - that was why Kahli was doing this. She was going to set things straight. She was going to let the mayor know what was happening, apprenticeship be damned.

As her elevation pod slithered open, Kahli stepped onto the brilliant marble of the top floor. She could see her reflection. Kahli wondered if the people that waxed these floors were union, or if they were instead maintained by powerful plant elementals. Regardless, the mayor had money in the budget for it.

"Um, pardon me," boomed a deep voice with breath that smelled of onions and boiled egg. "But I'm running late for a prior engagement."

Kahli looked up and jumped as she noticed the unmistakable form of the mayor looming over her. It was bizarre to see him in person. While it wasn't uncommon for people to have robust wood structures grown into their flesh - Kahli had her large left foot, which looked almost like a wooden cinder-block, and Omar of course had his right arm that could summon up a blade of flame - it was fairly uncommon for someone's body to be entirely made out of living wood. The mayor was an exception. His body was spherical save for arms and legs that folded out from his torso like flippers. Holes in his form revealed many small gears turning and whirring in every which way. And of course there was the large glass pane covering his forehead wherein one could see the mayor's true body. It was all very disorienting to behold.

The mayor was a member of a rare race of nearly-extinct, sentient slime molds called the Gharlique. Gharlique were generally regarded to be malevolent, scheming, and downright evil. This was, of course, a gross misrepresentation - the Gharlique were no more or less malevolent, scheming, and downright evil than any other race in the world of Nomachiato. If anything, the nature of the Gharlique had them predisposed to be very communal and nonviolent, their impulse as sentient slime molds was always to build benevolently optimized networks and communities.

However, it was this very nature that lead not only to the Gharlique's present rarity but indeed also to their bad reputation. It left their minds open to meddling by bad actors, such as a viral outbreak of a malignant disease known as Curr which had taken place about five centuries prior. This outbreak of Curr - known colloquially as the Currdling - resulted in hordes of Gharlique piloting their spherical forms as tools of war and spreading the infection of Curr across the lands. This of course lead to many Nomachiato denizens forming militias against infected Gharlique. Soon after that began, the original nature of the Gharlique was all but forgotten. Five centuries passed and all Gharlique were treated as enemies, whether they were infected with Curr or not. The mayor was all too aware of this history and worked tirelessly to spread a similar awareness of the cure for Curr, despite it being an older ailment that was less seen in the present day.

Presently, the mayor was wearing over his round, wooden exoskeleton a pair of wool trousers, a wine colored cardigan, and a green tartan cap with a red pom pom on top. He looked so silly that it was all Kahli to do to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

"Um, would you please step out of the way, kind citizen? I've got official business to attend to."

Kahli shook herself as she realized the mayor was talking to her. She apologized profusely, however, she opted to get back into the elevation pod with him as opposed to stepping out of his way.

"Might I say, that is an impressive kicker you've got there." The mayor looked at Kahli's foot inquisitively as she scooted over to make sure she was out of his way.

"Er, thanks," said Kahli with an anxious smile. "Now, um, mister mayor, I've got something pretty important I need to talk to you about. You see, up at Old Snow Mountain-"

"Believe me, kind citizen, I know about the dreadful lice infestation over at Old Snow Mountain, and am working tirelessly to make sure that everyone there knows how to properly launder their garments. It is my belief that through education we can-"

"I'm not talking about a couple of pesky rodents, mister mayor! I'm talking about a prophecy that could send the entirety of Nomacchiato into unending torment and turmoil! A prophecy that spells out our doom!"

The mayor took a deep breath. "Now, kind citizen, I must stress that as your mayor I receive numerous communications regarding the end of the world, apocalyptic circumstance, and other melodramatic things of a similar nature. As such, I've got a bit of a - forgive me for this - I've got myself a bit of a policy that I've got to follow before officially responding to such inquiries. I hope you don't mind if I ask, have you started any new medication recently?"

Kahli shook her head in confusion.

"Well, you might want to consider it. Usually, people start worrying about things like the end of the world when they're missing essential vitamins or something of that ilk."

Kahli was speechless as the elevation pod juddered to a halt. It squelched open into a dark cavern.

"Hey, this isn't the lobby!"

"Of course it's not the lobby. Do I look dressed for the lobby?" The Mayor chuckled.

Kahli followed slowly behind the mayor as he walked toward a cold, stone wall. The mayor shouted an indecipherable incantation and the wall shook, crumbled, and slid away to reveal a wide, green expanse and wide open sky.

"Wow," said Kahli, "This is beautiful."

"Thank you," replied the mayor smugly.

"But how is the weather so nice out here? It's literally like hell outside downtown!"

"Well, we're not outside. See, we're inside a nice, privately [enchanted] dimensional gateway. The putt-putt dimension, as it were. And I intend to get my money's worth!"

"But don't you care about what's happening in Gifflenberg? Aren't you concerned that your citizens are in imminent danger?!"

A familiar voice interrupted Kahli's detestations. "Hey, what's she doing here?"

Kahli jumped as she saw Omar standing on the grass holding a long, wooden club.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the apprentice has become the caddie. Not a bad play, Kahli. Not a bad play at all. Though I will say, I'll be sorely disappointed if you haven't delegated away all that staircase waxing I directed you to perform. Regardless, I still expect those stairs to be spotless."

Kahli wasn't sure why Omar was insinuating that she had suddenly become a father, but she didn't have much time to figure that out before she was encumbered with two large, cylindrical bags of wooden clubs.

"I agree," said the Mayor. He tried his best to muster a wooden smile with the war fangs that poked out of his rotund, mechanical bodice. "As they always say, your network is your net worth. By the looks of it you could use a bit of an upgrade on both, kind citizen."

Kahli sighed and readjusted the weight of the bags on her shoulders as they walked forward in preparation for a game of elemental golf.

Omar was up first. He gestured to Kahli, whom at his direction begrudgingly dug through his bag and produced a small marble. Omar had her place this marble in the center of a circle made out of purple pebbles. He cracked his neck and strode forward with a snicker, swinging his club to and fro a few times for practice. Then, with a final, brilliant swing of his club, he sent the blazing marble sailing through the air at high velocity.

"Aren't you worried about accidentally setting the grass on fire?" Kahli asked.

Omar and the mayor just looked at one another and laughed.

"Oh, kind citizen, you have a lot to learn about elemental putt-putt."

Throughout the game, Kahli made it her mission to convince Omar and the mayor to be concerned of the prophecy. However, all they seemed to care about was putt-putt, and in fact mentioning any of her concerns only made them treat her with cruelty and dismissal. And so Kahli learned of how many natural laws elemental putt-putt seemed to violate, as well as the intricate work behind the scenes that it required in order for a course to not be destroyed in a single game. She found herself wondering if the people maintaining this dimensional [enchantment] and any of the other elemental putt-putt courses throughout Gifflenberg, or even wider Nomachiato, were part of a workers' union.

Kahli stood at the shoddy payphone stand at the top of a hill, thankfully not yet submerged in flooded waters although she was herself considerably drenched by the endless downpour. She was at the apex of the downtown between the path home and the path to the Purple Sea - the sea in which, near its center, there laid the deep abyss known as the Pit of Despair. She hunched over to adjust the cold compresses on her shoulders and sighed as she prepared to finally take matters into her own hands. Omar might've destroyed the prophecy, and the mayor might've written it off as nothing but another citizen running out of medication, but Kahli knew better than both of them. She didn't need medication - she was sure her therapist would've already mentioned it otherwise.

Kahli lifted the sending conch to her ear and heard the dial tone, which was near indecipherable from ocean waves. Then, she clacked the beads hanging from the conch together in sequence until there was an echo like seagulls squawking.

"Hello?" Answered a voice with a thick accent characteristic of the chilly regions of Blandia, which of course included Old Snow Mountain. It sounded like the person on the other end was standing in a wind tunnel. "This is Dhavid from the Old Snow Mountain Archival Society. What's your name?"

"Hi there. I'm calling to inquire regarding a prophetic scroll I recently identified while parsing through the Phlibalmish Collections?"

"I'm sorry I'm having trouble understanding you. We've got a wretched snowstorm that just kicked off, and avalanches keep running down the mountain and killing people, so please do be aware that I'm struggling emotionally and physically to assist you in this stressful time. Did you say that you've got a funny looking mole you identified while processing archival records? If so, please know that the Old Snow Mountain Archival Society is not liable for any skin conditions you have, in the past, present, or future, regardless of whether you noticed them or developed them as a result of processing any of our collections."

Kahli sighed. She really could not stand speaking with people from Blandia because they always seemed to misinterpret what she was saying to the point of it almost seeming willful. Sure, it sounded like similarly apocalyptic things were taking place over at Old Snow Mountain, and surely Dhavid was extremely stressed, but couldn't he at least try to take the situation seriously? Did he not realize this could all be connected? Kahli could barely think of anything more irritating than a person that continually misunderstood and misinterpreted what someone else was saying with little to no awareness of the fact that they were doing so. The only thing more ridiculously irksome would've been someone who misunderstood what other people were saying without any good reason to, cultural or otherwise. Thankfully, Kahli could think of no such example in her own life or experiences.

After a few corrections, Kahli was able to articulate to Dhavid that what she believed to be a prophetic scroll with a seal of authenticity from the Upper Echelon had been mistakenly destroyed during her review of materials. She also relayed to Dhavid the scroll's serial code, which required a long back-and-forth where they both called out words starting with each letter of the alphabet that corresponded to the current letter in the code. This took an awfully long time, as they continued to mishear one another over and over again. It was only when both parties were convinced that the other had hung up, and that the other's voice was actually an echo of their own voice speaking the serial code, that Kahli felt assured that they'd successfully managed to get on the same page regarding the prophecy's serial code.

"I see, I see," Dhavid responded with all the aloofness of a seaside clam on its way to be baked. In the background, another Blandian could be heard screaming at the top of their lungs about tauman-sized blocks of hail smashing into the building and denting the historical stucco. "So, to clarify, did you just misplace this prophetic scroll, or did you perhaps happen to spill some coffee on it?"

"Um, no, Dhavid, I'm not sure how I could've spilled toffee on it, and even if I did, I'm not sure what I would've been doing to have melted chocolate near a historical document. Why is that a valid question to ask someone? Are you trying to insinuate something, Dhavid?"

"No, I'm not trying to incubate anything, ma'am. Now, please work with me here. The main thing we need to confirm first is, what kind of prophetic scroll was it? You see, some prophetic scrolls only function upon activation. So, if it was not activated, we have absolutely nothing to worry about. Can you confirm whether it was activated?"

"Incapacitated? How can a scroll be incapacitated, Dhavid? It's not a sentient thing, you can't knock it out!"

"Please do try to calm down. I just need to know what happened to the prophetic scroll, okay?"

"I thought I already told you, we set it on fire, Dhavid!"

"Rolled over it with a tire? Ma'am, that's certainly not a problem, tire tread cannot activate ancient prophetic scrolls."

"No, we set it on fire."

"Arranged its words over notes to be sung by a choir? That's also nothing to be concerned about. In fact, I think I can speak for all of us here at the Old Snow Mountain Archival Society that we might all love an opportunity to hear such an artistic-"

"No, no, Dhavid! I'm saying we set it on fire!"

"Look, I've got to apologize because I'm having trouble understanding you. It's probably a bad connection. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Dhavid, I can hear you."

"Great. Then let me tell you, as long as you didn't set the scroll on fire, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. You see, this particular prophetic scroll is what we at the Old Snow Mountain Archival Society like to call a 'summoning prophecy.' That is, you have to activate the prophecy somehow in order for it to come true, almost like a spell, and the activation conditions for the particular scroll you're describing require it to be incinerated. So, really, as long as you didn't do that, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. Between you and me, there are so many of these 'doomsday scrolls' laying around out there in the ice that really, as long as it's treated properly due to archival processes and procedures, we have absolutely nothing to be concerned about. I hope this answers your question to the fullest extent. Please know that after this call completes, you may be forwarded to a survey that will request you detail how your experience went today. Please also know that I am required to tell you that you are welcome to hang up before the survey starts. Thank you, and have a great day."

Kahli only heard the first two sentences of Dhavid's reply, and that was enough. She sat there, listening to him babble while not comprehending the words like an out of focus camera as the words danced across her mind over and over again on repeat. Then let me tell you, as long as you didn't set the scroll on fire, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about...as long as you didn't set the scroll on fire, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about...nothing to worry about...

There was one thing that Khali had no doubt about in this moment. She absolutely had something to worry about.

But maybe, if she acted quickly, she could fix it. Or at least cover up any evidence of her culpability, which for Kahli, might as well have been equivalent to fixing it.

After all, there was no way this activated prophecy could actually cause any lasting damage to the world as she knew it.

Right?

Kahli cracked her neck and looked out at the watery path ahead. She had about fifteen blocks or so where she'd have to wade through flooded pathways. After that, though, it looked like she'd be able run. Kahli just hoped she had enough time to destroy the Harbinger of Doom before it leveled up.

The abyssal depths of the Pit of Despair were dark and murky, and housed the kind of undersea creatures normally reserved for peoples' nightmares.

Generally, terrifying and dreadful as they were, these beasts stayed put. After all, if you were an unspeakable horror with eighteen glassy eyes specifically adapted to see in low to no light, an octopus that feeds entirely off bad vibes, or an aquatic centipede whose entire defense mechanism is looking as disgusting and terrifying as possible, you probably saw life in the Pit of Despair as a pretty sweet gig and had no real reason to leave. To those beasts that grew up in it, the Pit was predictably horrible, and that wasn't a bad thing. However, every once in a while, there was a shake-up.

[Scroll Activated]

The octopus wasn't sure why, but presently it was absolutely feasting on bad vibes.

[Spawning]

[...]

[Spawning completed]

In a brilliant flash of purple-tinged light, a small egg materialized at the very center of the Pit of Despair. For the split-second that this flash of light manifested, all of the creatures dwelling in the pit with the gift - or curse - of sight froze as they beheld each others' wretched countenances. And there was a collective feeling of embarrassment, which resulted in a veritable feast for the octopus, a rare being that had long ago evolved beyond the necessity of and ability to feel shame.

[System processing egg spawn details]

[...]

[Processing complete]

[Egg manifest added successfully to ledger]

[Preparing system character sheet]

[...]

[Character sheet prepared successfully by system]

Not all of the creatures in the Pit had systems. But those that did, immediately recognized what was happening. Something new had been created, and it had materialized as a direct result of powerful magic that none of them could or would ever truly comprehend.

And yet, something stirred, as if pulled by an otherworldly magnetism. A small, inconsequential creature - something strange, bizarre, and grotesque.