---

“Awaken.”

It fell like a droplet of rain, rippling through consciousness and pulling the displaced youths from their slumber. For a moment, they were in damp darkness, the stench of mold pervading their minds, death abound in the catacombs. Some spoke up and heard their questions echoed through the cavernous chamber. Others felt the ground around them, feeling cold, grainy stone. Still more breathed in deeply, and could smell the rust and the salt that lingered within this strange place. But the darkness did not linger, and with the creaking of gears, the crackling of sifting dust, warm light spilled out into the cold room, bringing with it the crying of distant gulls, the whispers of the far off tide.

Two men, broad-shouldered and brazen, peered into the shadows with torchlight. One of them was dressed in plate armor, the other in chainmail, but it was clear from both their gazes that neither were particularly surprised by the appearance of these otherworldly strangers. No, the plate-armored guard almost looked irritated as he turned to his companion. They exchanged a few terse murmurs, before he nodded at the group, one hand gesturing them to follow, before marching off.

There were looks exchanged, but soon, most of the group followed in, tracing that armored man’s steps down the dirt path and into core of the rustic city.

Those that chose to walk off on their own, without following the guard, were paid no heed.

Though it felt as if it were late in the evening, the streets were still filled with bawdy drunks and promiscuous women, burning streetlamps casting warmth and light to chase away the nighttime chill. The clanking of mugs mingled with prayers and toasts, while a rooftop musician played the fiddle, pushing a feverish atmosphere upon the merrymakers. Overhead, the twin moons burned with red light, while the stars themselves aligned themselves in foreign fashions, masked only by the steam that rose from vendors plying their cheap eats. But the small crowds parted in the presence of the armored man, and though a few merrier drunks waved at the ones amongst the outsiders that were cuter, they were left largely unmolested as they trudged through the narrow streets.

Slowly, merriment gave away to silence, until they found themselves standing in an unremarkable plaza devoid of decoration. The buildings around, perhaps belonging to grocers, seamstresses, smiths, were closed today, leaving only a single two-story building glowing in the night’s umbra. Above oak double doors, a sloppily painted sign read ‘Silver Moon Recruiting Office’, while one of the walls of the building was coated with flyers. It took a few moments for any curious youth to decipher it, but despite the foreign script, the meaning was clear soon enough: each flyer was a bounty for monsters and criminals that somehow flew against the ‘common’ sense that they had.

But the armored guard cared not for such details, marching up to the door and pulling it open.

“Get in.”

An order, one backed up by the steel of his gaze and the steel of his blade.

The man himself did not enter, and for good reason. The room, where a receptionist may have been sitting or standing, was filled with disorderly stacks of paperwork, no doubt an immense fire hazard considering all the torches that lined the brick walls. The stench, the aroma of tobacco filled their lungs soon after, and behind them, the door was closed, leaving the displaced, confused youths with the only other individual within.

Seated behind a desk rife with miscellanea, a bespectacled man with crystal blue eyes peered at them. Even in incandescent lighting, his skin was a sickly pallor, blue veins stark beneath translucent flesh. Unlike the armored guard that had deposited them here, this man was dressed in a comfortable, perhaps even sloppy, set of robes. He looked at the motley gaggle of strangers, ran a hand through his combed back hair, and smothered his cigar.

The grandfather clock rang, chiming out midnight.

The silence that followed brought a heavy sigh.

“Well,” he spoke, voice firm despite his sallow frame, “I’d provide you with brochures, but children have the attention span of gnats, and it’s just a waste of good paper anyhow. You’re all kids with functioning minds and an understanding of math and philosophy, yes? Ask and I shall answer.”

From the desk, he pulled a crystal tumbler and a dark brown flask.

“But keep it curt. The talkative ones always die the fastest.”

The clock ticked once more, a pendulum swing for each wretched second.

Awaken. The word that woke Ash, the bead of ichor that gave her life, had pervaded her mind. Curled upon the cold stone, her body slowly unfurled. It was an unfamiliar feeling. The harsh ground seemed to grind into any bit of skin exposed to the stones. Recollecting what little she could, her body rose. She struggled to get her footing, her strength drained from whatever slumber she had awoken from. Her body intuitively straightened as she regained her lost strength. Where this place was, however, could be nothing more than an empty guess. She was not alone, and those who were in this odd room seemed to be sharing her experience. It didn't quite matter, however, as two men had entered the room to interrupt slow process of awakening.

Without so much as a word to them, the man gestured for them to follow and follow she did. Without any knowledge of what was happening, Ash decided that it would be better if someone who seemed to have his wits about him lead her. She left the odd room without much hesitation, following the two men. As she walked down the dirt path, the noise of merriment and festivities seemed to preclude Ash from thinking. The loud noises had made her feel noticeably uncomfortable. Cheers and music seemed to swell to a feverish pitch that churned her empty stomach. However, the feelings of sickness became mitigated as the crowds parted for the guards.

As they crossed into a silent part of town, Ash's nerves calmed. They were headed towards the sole building that still burned the midnight oil. The large sign was the only clue to what this place was. A recruitment office? For what purpose would she and the others need to be recruited for? Noticing the flyers, her eyes quickly darted from word to word.

What little concentration she had on them was shattered by a quick order. Without so much as a complaint, Ash entered the wooden doors. Her lungs instantly became filled by a thick miasma of tobacco. She couldn't help but cough, covering her mouth with both hands as to not disturb the others. The man at the desk seemed more of the scholarly type. He was quick and harsh with his words—the first of which insulting every child in the world. However, he seemed to be willing to at least help them with his knowledge. He asked for any questions, something Ash had many of.

Though many of her questions would have to come later as she didn't want the others to have their questions unanswered, Ash asked the scholarly fellow a hastily worded question.

"Why are we here?" She said, her soft voice cutting through the brief silence.

"Why are we here?"

A dark brown liquid trickled down the mouth of the bottle, rising up on the tumbler until it nearly reached the brim. Holding it carefully, the man brought it to his lips and sipped, feeling the fiery warmth scar his throat. A more pleasant sensation than that girl-boy's voice, to be sure.

"It's a recruitment office. Put the pieces together. Next?"

Confusion. Conflicting thoughts, or rather, thoughts conflicting with their absence. It was not a feeling Matteo woke with, but one he discovered for himself as the salt-scented seconds ticked on into minutes and his mind began to work. The dreamy sense of peace first began to fade as one word—Awaken— imperative as breath, filled the void. Then another word, Matteo, followed. His name?

That struck Matteo as odd. Of course that’s my name. More words joined the pair of outliers as his mind reached sleepily for its glasses and slapped against... nothing. No resources. No memories. The solid foundation upon which his thoughts stood had not crumbled— it simply wasn’t there.

He felt the dark curls of his hair shift around his ears as he sat up for the first time, heart swiftly beating to life in his chest. His glasses—his real glasses—were set safely on his face. Had he not taken them off the night before?

What am I wearing? Was I wearing this when I went to bed last night?

He didn’t know.

His frustration ceased a little when he realized there were others in this place with him, and based on the muffled questions he could hear them calling out in the dark, were in the same position he seemed to be in. I really can’t even start to guess what the hell is going on, but it must be a group phenomenon. There was security in knowing that, at least…

Unfortunately, the bewildered group’s focus on “what happened” took a back seat to “what’s going to happen” as with a crack, their dark little world was opened.

As they followed the pair of guards, mindless as lost sheep, Matteo cleared his throat. “Some night, huh?” He kept his voice low and his eyes down as the group moved through the plaza. He didn’t know what else to do but follow their escort— even if the armored duo had something to do with their circumstances, they seemed like the most reliable way to find answers. Besides, wandering off on his own at night when he didn’t know anything— literally anything— about their surroundings seemed like a terrible idea.

He swallowed heavily, idly wondering how long it had been since they'd eaten or drank, when they were finally faced with a pale, scholarly figure who called himself a “recruiter.” His eyes drifted to the flask in the man's hand and he swallowed again. Ah. That doesn’t sound good. To put off the details of what exactly they were being drafted into (no news was good news!) Matteo raised his hand. “Would you mind telling us a little about this city? Where is it, and what is it called?” His tone was mild and polite, but firm. If he could just get his bearings…

"The city of Andeave, on the eastern end of the new continent, Altera," the man said, pushing up his glasses. "The only proper foothold the Jeaulian Empire has managed to wrest away from the natural residents of this land."

He leaned back slightly, raising his right hand for one point, and his left hand for another point.

"If you believe the world is round, this is on the other side of the world from the mainland. If you believe the world is flat, this the last landmass before you reach the world's end."

The last statement was made with no small scorn, before he sat straight up again, eyes searching for the next 'pupil'.

Given more time to take in his surroundings, Matteo tore his eyes away from the mysterious beverage and let his gaze wander around the smoky parlor, trying to distract himself from the sudden dryness in his mouth. The smell of tobacco, bold as red wine, filled his lungs with each breath. The shoulders of his fellow recruits (they might not know for what yet, but Matteo had a feeling they didn’t have much of a choice based on how they’d been ushered inside) bumped against him as the group reacted to the new information in a ripple of uncertainty.

If you believe the world is flat? It seemed like odd humor for the situation, but the dark-haired young man dismissed it in the face of a greater disappointment. I don’t recognize...any of that. Well, there goes that idea. Frustration welled up in him again as he cast his eyes again across his fellows. The real question is why we’re all like this, and why these other people don’t seem surprised. Could they be the instigators of whatever had robbed them of their pasts? Even if they are, I can’t do anything about it. Some hidden agenda didn’t make them less loss or helpless, and Matteo definitely felt both. Perhaps a braver man might set out on his own and damn the consequences, but not him.

“Ah— me again,” the curly-haired youth spoke up again mildly, calling the recruiter's attention back to himself, “Natural residents?” He made quote-marks in the air and hesitated. The way he says it makes it sound like they’re hostile, either way. “Additionally, it sounds like you’re already aware of our—” Matteo stopped to indicate the group as a whole, his tone still puzzled, “—circumstances. Our... ignorance, rather.” Why was this guy already prepared to give a bunch of kids a crash-course in what sounded suspiciously like common knowledge?

"Ah, right," the man said nonchalantly, "'Monsters' and 'demons' may be a more evocative term for you people."

The other statement made by Matteo was left unanswered. It appeared as if the robed man was a stickler for proper questions.

'Awaken.'

The taste of cold, salty, stone.
The smell of old rust and mold.
The sight of complete darkness.

"...Muu?" A familiar sound escaped her lips. Her name? A memory? Her mind felt weak, her body strong. 'Muu' didn't know. 'Muu' didn't remember. Was she supposed to remember? This was... wrong. This was not right. It's strange. It's weird. ... No, she was not. This was normal. Perfectly acceptable. Muu existed. Perfectly fine and content with her existence in this dark place, together with these others.

A blinding light, piercing the comfortable darkness, forced Muu to squint her eyes for a moment. Giving Muu a whole new perspective. She could see herself, clad in a big, oversized sweater with matching sweatpants. She could see the guards. She could see the others. And they could see her.

The sudden realization of this trivial thought made Muu feel suddenly very, very uncomfortable. What were they whispering about? Did she do bad? Were they talking about her? It apparently mattered not, as a gesture of their hand quickly prompted them to follow.

At first, the girl did not move. Watching meekly as the others left, one by one. A few minutes passed. Only when the chainmail dude stared at her for a second, before attempting to close the place and return eternal, comfortable, darkness, Muu's body moved by itself. Instinct? With quick, hasty, steps, Muu made it outside.

The other guard, and the people she been with, where nowhere in sight. For a second, Muu glanced at the chainmailed dude. For a second, various thoughts filled Muu's head. But then, a newfound curiosity piqued her interest, and she wandered off, towards the east.

There were only three things she knew: her name was Hannah, she was angry, and that she knew nothing else. She wasn’t afraid of not knowing. Annoyed maybe, but the white blank in her head where she was pretty sure memories should be did not scare her. Hannah opened her eyes to see others in what she assumed was a similar state and some guards. Were they in trouble? Arrested? Hannah wanted answers...no, a purpose. Hannah wanted a purpose and it seemed the only way she would get that was to follow after the guards.

Hannah found herself in the back of the group listening to the boy ask just so many questions. Sure, Hannah wanted to know more about the area she has found herself in, but judging by the curt answers the robed man was giving, he was also annoyed at the questions. She rubbed her aching left arm and tried to not be too mad at these people she didn’t know. Or maybe she did know. She couldn’t be sure.

The robed man seemed to only answer the questions he cared about, and while Hannah could appreciate that, she was tired of just standing around. Clearly they were at this strange place for a reason and they didn’t remember anything for a reason. Asking all these round-about questions weren’t going to help. They were recruits and the only thing her blank mind could think of was that they were recruited to fight. Fight what?

When the boy finally shut up for a moment, Hannah stepped forward and asked the only things she particularly cared to get an answer to. “You gonna teach us to be useful now? Or are all new recruits supposed to be memoryless cannon fodder?”

There was a directness, a fire to the blonde waif's words, one that perhaps would have sparked something within the man in the past. Now though, he responded with an indifferent raising of his eyebrow, before downing the remainder of his glass and pouring himself another drink.

"No," he replied, "that's not my job. Whether you remain fodder or not depends on your own actions, not mine."

The pendulum continued to swing back and forth. So many chances, and yet, they've failed to ask the most important one.

"Anything else? Or shall I send you all on your way?"

It ticked away, every minute that stole more sleeping time from him, and at this point, it was clear that this group of four couldn’t grasp the situation fast enough. That angry child had the right idea, but couldn’t act upon it, while the sole male in the group appeared to be naught but an incompetent who spent more time thinking than acting. A sigh. A waste of time, really.

But a job was a job, and the faster he got them all processed, the better.

“I’m sending you bunch out,” the man replied to Aoi, shuffling through drawers before pulling out four simple necklaces, accompanied by four bags of clinking metal. Simple bronze tags, marked with a crescent moon, hung from the necklaces, while the brown, cloth bags themselves were tattered and looked to be constructed from scraps. “The necklaces are identification, marking you as trainees. Replacing one is five silver, and takes three days to process the request. The guards won’t let you come back into the city without them, and you get some added benefits with them. You can pay more for more benefits, but that's not relevant for you. The bags have ten silver. That’ll get you started.”

A pause, as he finished what remained of the crystalline glass, putting away his bottle and rising from his seat.

“It’s half past midnight, but it shouldn’t be hard to find your seniors amongst the crowd. With the objective of monster slaying as guidance, use your individual skills and judgment to figure out how to proceed.” Bony fingers reached out for his glasses, removing them carefully before he slipped them between the folds of his clothing. “Now the office is closed. Get your shit and get out.”

And a few minutes later, whether they decided to get their ‘gifts’ or not, the torchlights within the paper-laden room were snuffed out by an errant wind.

---

With heavier pockets than before, the four found themselves outside the empty plaza once more, now in almost total darkness as whatever warmth was within the recruiting office was blown out. Above, the stars shone brightly, and around, the city still called.

To the west, the familiar revelry and festive chaos they had bore witness to called for them.

To the east, the wind carried salt and water, promising the nostalgia and peace of nighttime currents.

To the north, the great shadows of tall mountains loomed, white light emanated from certain parts of the sheer face.

To the south, the revelry was decidedly more seedy, aggressive, an edgy counterpoint to merrymakers of the west.

Four directions. Four people. But that did not mean they need to split up, nor did it mean that they must seek union amongst themselves first.

The night was growing long.

Shelter, food, water, warmth, security.

What would they pursue?
@Denny@changejar@Buzzkill@Burger

Aimless. Muu was completely aimless. Part of her regretted that she did not follow the guard type-ish person. Everybody was clothed strangely. Except her, except these others inside those catacombs. But now, there was none of them. The shy girl had to stand for herself. Which meant walking around randomly would get her nowhere.

Instead, Muu spend a few minutes gazing into the moonlit sea. It was a calming, beautiful view. Something she could easily forget herself into. Alas, there were actually more pressing matters. It took her some more minutes until finally building up enough courage.

"E-Excuse me..."

Muu nearly whispered as she interrupted one of the night fishers on the pier.

"Where... where am I?"

Ash listened intently to both the questions her contemporaries asked and the venomous answers the man gave. Her own question was answered with a certain kind of bitterness that made it difficult for her to press into further matters. Though, she did take the man's words to heart. If she had to put it together by herself, she would make the easy assumption that she was being recruited to the Silver Moon. What the Silver Moon did was most likely something to do with those fliers. Bounties, to be precise. They would most likely be recruited as fighters. Unless, of course, they were meant to take an auxiliary role as a record keeper. Another figure, the languid teen and only boy in the group, spoke. The city of Andeave, Altera, and the Jeaulian Empire all entered Ash's thoughts without a hint of familiarity. Even though she had a mind that felt shrouded by a dense fog, most of the things she had seen up until this point felt foreign. They did not feel new.

Hearing the recruiter speak about monsters and demons did not put her mind to rest. In fact, it made her feel more anxious. The Silver Moon, with their bounties, may be involved in the wresting of monsters. The next contemporary, a beautiful but harsh looking blonde, spoke. This one was significantly more bitter than the boy. She was aggressive and her words were phrased as though it were a snake striking with a bite. The man, however, easily parried her verbal blow with a sincere stance of not actually caring.

The final one of them, the soft looking girl, had asked where they were being sent to. The recruiter had perfectly transitioned from this question into giving them the information they needed to know, severance, and kicked them out. Personally, Ash didn't like how the necklace looked. It seemed as though it would faithfully jab into her collar bone at every opportunity. The bag full of currency was a nice gesture. One that seemed as though she had to repay somehow. Rather than a gift, it felt more like a loan. Though, how much was a silver? What they needed to know, however, was answered by the man with haste. They were now with the Silver Moon and were meant to hunt monsters. Though, that's all he told them. Everything else would require them to put in the effort to discover. Then, they were forcibly ejected from the building.

With introductions and the odd question of what a cannon was out of the way, Ash realized something. The mindless following of the guard and interactions with the venomous recruiter had taken her mind off of her stomach. She could not remember the last time she ate (though, she did not remember the last time she did anything for that matter). Didn't she smell food earlier? From when they walked past the festivities, she could distinctly remember the pleasant smell of food. Even if she didn't like the crowds, her stomach was dictating her pace now. Without even bothering to say goodbye to the others, she headed back to the west. Towards the revelry, joy and, most importantly, food.

A quick though crossed her mind, however. Wasn't there five of us before?

Muu's eyes widened in shock upon witnessing the comedic display of fisher. He had been asleep and now, had he lost his eye? Muu was in shock. Terrified. Guilty. "A-Are you alright!?" The girl asked concerned before bowing. "I'm very sorry!" Luckily for Muu, it looked like the fisherman had eyeballs of steel though.

That did not excuse the sunken stool though. "I—" Muu continued. Stealing his fish? But... now that he mentioned 'food', the girl felt indeed rather hungry. Did he think she was a thief!? Gosh, right now, the brunette wished she could disappear into thin air. "I would never s- steal!! I'm just... lost?" She wasn't so sure about being lost herself. After all, she couldn't really recall any place she'd belong to.

Reality differed from Matteo’s expectations. He expected the scholar to eventually explain the odd circumstances the four had woken up in. He expected more information on the recruitment office and the roles they were expected to take on. He expected reason. He expected courtesy. But most of all, Matteo thought, he expected assurance.

And they didn’t get it.

If they were part of this group’s plot, they made no effort to alleviate those suspicions. If the situation-- fighting monsters and demons-- seemed fantastical and dangerous, no words were said to lesson those concerns. No one was trying to make the situation seem better than it was, and Matteo had mixed feelings about that. Instead of sympathy, they received facts, reality, and coin. An investment, they called it later as they gathered at the entrance to the recruitment office, the doors almost closing on Matteo’s heels as he exited.

The tattered bags of coins were comforting. If this business was handing them money, it must be expecting them to make it back. If they were truly cannon fodder (he struggled to make sense of the strong feelings that word evoked, but couldn’t quite grasp it) there was no sense in wasting money on them. Matteo had pulled his necklace over his curls almost as soon as he’d received it. Even if he didn’t understand it, the symbol might mean enough to someone else to get them some more information, or to keep them out of danger.

“Ah-- Ash, just a moment,” Matteo called. He had a brief vision of exhausting himself wandering all around Andeave in search of his fellow amnesiacs again and cringed internally at the thought. “If we get split up, shall we meet back here?” he suggested mildly as an alternative, casting a glance behind him as he hurried west after Ash. It seemed like the best idea-- there had been little that was threatening about the festive plaza when they’d first passed through it.

As the music grew loud again, the spectacled young man stood and took in the busy square, debating who would be the most effective to approach first. The people in the sky-blue robes caught his curiosity-- they stood out from the drunken revelry. Rather than Matteo trying to figure out what had happened to him (an opportunity they’d already wasted at the recruitment office, he felt) perhaps it would be better to learn about this place and its people. Besides, anyone giving to charity probably wasn’t a threat to someone else down on their luck.

He waited for one of them to finish what they were doing and cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said politely, clearing his throat. “Yes, hello. Ah-- my name is Matteo. I just got here and was wondering what you and the others in those robes… do. Excuse my ignorance,” he added. “...Or who are you, rather?”