Crispy Octopus — Roleplayer Guild

A Journey’s End

Cool water surged up the black sand and lapped at her toes as Amerra Hutta, now at the end of her journey, shut her eyes for a precious moment and drew in a deep breath.  The ocean’s familiar scent reminded her of the beginning.  All the way back when she’d first stepped back from the water a continent away and a lifetime ago.  It had been the dream of another person, to be here.  She hadn’t had any idea what it would take then.  The cost in years, her countless brushes with death.  Even death itself.  It disturbed her, that she knew what it was to die.

That things existed in the world which could bring you back from that with nothing more than a word.  She had been saved by a Skywalker.  The very beings she’d been told had created the world, and then abandoned it.  Creatures of vanity and power that regarded her and her people as little more than clever insects whose antics had the potential to amuse.  So the stories went.

Those words felt hollow now.  Her father had dedicated himself to appeasing them, to staving off their wrath with offering and prayer, and now she wondered.  The Skywalkers were powerful.  She did believe they had created the world, but the rest?  The one who’d saved Amerra had told her that it had only just been born, and what sort of perpetual evil could be brought into the world only to save someone that it named as family?

The truth was she’d lost faith in her people's beliefs a long time ago.  How could the beauty of that shining temple at the heart of the great plain be the work of a fickle, wicked creature?  There was pain in life, but that did not make it the product of evil or a game to amuse the world's architects.  There were cheaper, better amusements. 

Now a continent away from her people, from her lost faith, the Eastern Ocean undulated before her and with eyes wide she marvelled at the sight.  She remembered her home.  She remembered the waves that had greeted her every morning.  A silly little grin bloomed on her face as she recalled that the girl she’d been had never even taken the time to watch them.

It was the same water, she thought, but not the same person.  Without pomp, or fanfare, or even recognition, Amerra allowed herself to collapse on the beach.  The damp sand met her with all the softness it could, but whatever pain the fall caused was nothing compared to the satisfaction she felt as she let out the weight of her journey in one, penultimate, sigh.

She’d made it.  Every night she’d gone hungry, every day she’d run from thieves and worse, it all brought her here.  Exactly where she’d wanted to be.  As far as her feet could take her.  There was tremendous freedom in it; the accomplishment of all her dreams.  Behind her was everything, and ahead?  Nothing to worry about.

Not anymore.  The hard part was over.  Now she had the cool sand, the sound of the water, the heat of the sun.  For a brief moment in time these were her only companions and, though Amerra cherished each one, it was a stray thought as to the reason she’d lived to come this far that wrenched her from them.  After all she’d forgotten that, while it was a good presumption in general, it was not always the case that her thoughts were entirely her own business. 

“You know I did more than just save you right?”

The familiar voice made Amerra jump, even from her reclined state.  As she got her feet under her she was shocked, yet again, to see a woman made entirely from mist rising from the nearby water and eyeing her expectantly.  Given the circumstances she managed a choked, “Uh- Yeah.  Yes.”

It was not every day that you had to defend your own thoughts, let alone to apparitions in the fog, after all.  As for the mist woman herself, she visibly struggled to suppress a laugh at Amerra’s fumbled reply before launching into an explanation for the human woman, “Well, at least you noticed something.  It’s more fun if you figure it out, but you’ve made it all the way here so I suppose you deserve to know.  I couldn’t have anything else sneaking up on you after going to the effort of saving you once, so I made it so you can sense what the critters around you can.  And tada!  You’re here, having avoided supplying the local animal population an exotic treat.”

The ability was more valuable than words could express, and Amerra appreciated it.  It had paid off time and time again.  It was her friendly Skywalker’s self congratulatory tone, though, that was enough to force the human woman to blurt out, “It took a week for the vertigo to go away!  I was throwing up twice. A . Day.”

“Huh,” The woman in the mist paused and bit her lip contemplatively.  After a pregnant pause the Skywalker’s representation pointed at Amerra and apologized, “Fair.  I should probably have thought about that.  Well, it’s not like I made you.  I’m winging this and it can't all be wins you know?”

“You’d never... Done that before?  You didn’t know how?” Amerra stumbled over her words as a little seed of horror blossomed in her imagination.  The woman in the fog reached out and waved in front of eyes as she turned pale.

The apparition retorted, “Hey!  Hey!  You weren’t in danger.  I’m pretty sure.  Very sure ok.  I didn’t make you but it’s not like you’re that complicated!  Not that that’s an, look ok you’re fine, you’re here, back to happy thoughts.”

Amerra could only stare blankly at the Skywalker’s representation.  She pursed her lips meaningfully and changed the subject before she had any untoward thoughts regarding divinity and the respect one should show to it, “It worked, though.  So thank you, honestly.  You did save me, and you helped me get here.”

The misty woman gave Amerra a happy little smile and an embellished bow before speaking, “I did, and you’re welcome!  Though, I wouldn’t say we’re even quite yet.  After all, you are the reason I exist.”

It was a blunt admission, but the Skywalker hadn’t tried to conceal it from Amerra before.  Perhaps a Skywalker could be young, and still be a Skywalker.  Amerra thought telling people that Skywalkers can be born, and presumably die, wasn’t necessarily the greatest idea.  She said as much, “You don’t owe me anything, but if I can make a request, perhaps don’t share that you’re a newborn.  Even with... Family.”

“Well, I could be lying,”  The apparition of a woman swirled around Amerra, leaving a thick blanket of fog behind her.  Once it looked to Amerra as if the whole of the world had vanished but for her and her companion in the fog, that companion went on eagerly, “Or maybe you’re just special.  A first, even among family.  All explorers might be mine, but it could be it’s only you who has a little of me to yourself.  So!  I’ll abide by your request, and I’ll show a little nepotism besides.”

With a little wink from the fog suddenly collapsed on the Skywalker’s misty figure.  What had been an ethereal figure in the fog manifested itself as a milky white representation of a woman clad in what looked like little clouds.  It would have been an unearthly sight, if not for what was above it.

Looming above the vaporous woman was a vast white serpent.  No less than five wings protruded from each side of its sinuous body, each one gently oscillating to hold the creature aloft.  Every time a wing beat Amerra was buffeted by wind, terrified and mesmerized in equal measure.  Two perfect circles, each one home to a great emerald eye, held her attention as the Skywalker explained, redundantly,  “I’m sure you’ve seen the wetland people riding similar, if rather pathetic, creatures.  I thought you’d appreciate the chance to go whenever you want, from now on.  Besides, it beats the ability to walk on water, believe me.  Massively overrated, that.”

Amerra's eyes widened and shock and she stuttered, “It...  It belongs to me?”

“Yup,” The Skywalker said as she waved her translucent hand in front of Amerra’s face, “Maybe say ‘him’ though.  And don’t worry about training, I’ve done all that for you already.  Whatever you name him here already knows you, even if you need to take a moment to know him.”

The misty woman hesitated for a second and, somewhat abashed, added, “Though, I can’t say he’s all reward.  Your little arrival here marked the start of a...  Competition.  I’m sure you’ll meet explorers everywhere you go soon, but I feel I ought to warn you ahead of time.  Whatever they’re looking for, isn’t for you.  If you want something from me, just shoot a prayer my direction alright?”

Amerra nodded at the vague absurdity of the statement.  She had mixed feelings about the Skywalker, about her ‘reward’, and about whatever carrot her ‘friend’ was about to go swinging in front of the world.  Of course, she was sure the Skywalker was already aware of her reservations.  There was no point putting them to words. 

At last, the first explorer to traverse Toraan, said the only thing that felt appropriate, “His name is Huern, then.  Thank you.  Again.”

An unnervingly huge grin bloomed on the Skywalkers facsimile of a face and she all but shouted, “He’s yours!  Get to know your new friend!  I have a game to kick off!”

She burst, and soon the beach was shrouded in mist with the great serpent as Amerra's only companion.  She looked up at Huern and the flying beast met her gaze.

Amerra didn't say a word, but she was still processing it.

***

That night and for six nights after, the world over, men and women who dreamed of more than their petty lives received a vision in their sleep.  Grand vistas of distant lands dominated their dreams, and without word or explanation they each understood the images to be true.  Thousands of places, big and small, forgotten and remembered.  Countless men and women dreamed of a varied and beautiful world, and all came to understand that their efforts in going to see what the gods had made for them would not be in vain.  There would be reward, equal not to the destination but rather to the journey taken to get there. 

A Goddess was watching, and she couldn’t wait to see what came next.

Amerra finally reaches the eastern coast of Toraan.  She reflects upon everything that brought her here, and what it means.  Eventually the Patron appears before her and they have a cool chat, before the Patron gives her a dope flying snake.  The Patron then sends visions to everyone who thinks their lives could be more than they are, which is pretty much everyone.

-2 MP Created a legendary beast, the Sky Viper Huern:  Huern the Sky Viper is capable of flying at incredible speeds while protecting his rider from the dangers inherent in such an action.  Moreover, he is capable of breathing freezing mist and fog when threatened.

-3 MP Sent visions to the discontent for a week. These visions are vivid and will clearly impart the knowledge that there is a great competition commencing, one sanctioned by the divine.  Those who seek the places shown in their visions will be rewarded upon the end of their journey, in a manner proportional to the nature and difficulty of their journey.

0MP/5DP

The State of Plenty


Government Type:
Its inhabitants would call The State of Plenty an enlightened, egalitarian, society.  A direct democracy made possible with the height of technology and a universal dedication to averting the errors of old Humanity.  Outsiders might have a different opinion.  The State has long been denounced as little more than a vast, empowered, viscous mob.  One which assures its own prosperity and security by making the majority opinion the only opinion.

Of course, dissent isn’t illegal.  Usually.  Direct democracy means that anyone can propose new laws, and as the elites of the Core Worlds like to say, people can’t be trusted to rule themselves.  While advanced, semi organic, supercomputers determine the subject of daily votes that all citizens of The State undertake, they are little more than reflections of the popular consensus, prioritizing motions that appear likely to succeed.  Should there be enough chatter, and apparent enthusiasm, about any subject it isn’t unthinkable that it would end up on the docket. 

As votes are global, so too are the bills and measures voted on.  There exists no local representation in the State of Plenty.  Only the will of the whole.

Demographics:
Per vote 1222-68DHY-M3, which forbid any census in perpetuity, there is no clear data to support any real assumption on The State’s major populations.  What can be seen is that, for all it might be a place of apparent ‘mob-rule’, The State is remarkably diverse.  There are many, and perhaps a majority of, Humans, but they hardly make up more than the thinnest of majorities, if even that.  In truth, any and every species can be found in the State. 

Economy:
The State of Plenty is, to the surprise of some, not a misnomer.  There exists no poverty, strife, or even struggle.  In fact, conventional work is almost unpracticed by the population.  Rather, the citizens of The State partake exclusively in their passions and shun the very notion of working for some tangible material gain.  This has resulted in the state being a massive exporter of art, video media, and music.  The State of Plenty is an undeniable cultural powerhouse, but everyone knows a world cannot sustain itself on art and passion alone.  Nor can its people.

Thus, here exists the devil's bargain.  While a sizable share of menial labor in The State is automated it is an open secret that ‘tasks of necessity’ eschewed by the citizenry are handled by the world's vast prison industrial complex.  This is sustained by there being a single punishment for all crimes in The State: Service to The State.  Specifically, blissful service.  Any prisoner, serving any sentence, for any length of time, is implanted with an electrochemical reward system intended to increase a prisoners quality of life.  

Or that was how it was sold, generations ago.  The reality is that undesirable tasks in The State are handled by addicts, controlled by an addiction hard wired into their skulls.  While it is true that the implant can be harmlessly removed, its initial installation is no choice.  After all, who would work tirelessly for nothing?  The majority of The State’s population has long considered their wicked practice, by and large, ethical.  After all, what’s better?  To suffer in service and penance for your crimes, or to enact your penance with a spacey, but genuine smile. 

Maybe that would be true, if it wasn’t for the ‘choice’ offered to convicts upon the end of their sentence.  That is, whether to leave at all.  It is no secret that the vast majority of the prisoners working in The State have long since earned their release.

They just didn’t want it. 

Military:
WIP

History:
WIP

Characters:
WIP

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