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When the Ghoul was 20, she left the Thousand Monasteries to see the sun.
In her early life she had imagined it to be a lantern so wide, it loomed over every floor and wall. And it must have blotted out every other star. For how could something so powerful be small in the sky?
Leaving the Monasteries wasn't exactly forbidden, but those who did would never return to their birthplace. The toxins of the world outside were not permissible within the halls. Thus, knowledge of the outside world was relayed by explorers who would shine encoded sequences of lantern-light at a safe distance. Fewer and fewer explorers returned each year, succumbing to age or peril, and thus fewer ventured out.
What was the main killer of explorers? Age, or Peril? The answer most repeated will become the truth.
The last Ghoul to leave the Monasteries had done so 762 years before.
The Ghoul had brought with her:
7 days of rations in a pack upon her back.
1 rectangular prism of stone so thin and long as to resemble a walking stick.
4 baby teeth, as a memento.
The Ghoul left behind all else, including her own name. She didn't mind. She was sure to find a new one under the sun's rays.
PLASTIC PLANET 1-1 The people have chosen Peril. The world you will enter is vicious to the weak and strong in equal measure.
The Ghoul exited into the vast hollow cave the Monasteries were suspended within. Between her and the surface were hundreds of staircases, all jutting from the central Monasteries and emitting in jagged directions. It looked like diagrams of spiderwebs and sea urchins. Before she had left, the Admonkistrator in charge of the exit had told her which stairs to follow and which, upon entry, would drop out from under her. As she did not wish to splatter upon subterranean floors, she followed the map.
The Monasteries had long mastered the art of the circadian rhythm. Mealtimes were exactingly synchronized, and portions distributed such that all bodies would hunger 3 times a day - at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Additionally, waste disposal was timed and tracked. In this manner, the underground day was set at approximately 24 hours, with all the body's needs replacing conventional timepieces.
So the Ghoul knew from her meals that her trip to the surface lasted 2 and a third days.
Ghouls could perceive the insides of their bodies with deep precision, but only those with the ability to Displace perception were allowed to leave. Those who could perceive their environment without utilizing the five primary senses.
She had learned to do so long ago, or else the deep cavern empty of light would have been her death.
She knew she was close when her feet carried her to softly lit steps.
Which of the Deep Arts was she trained in?
Banshee Fist
Howling wind encapsulates the strike and blow.
The displaced senses are enhanced.
The blood in the body thrums like a wailing ghost.
Cyclic Stave
Unending momentum accompanies the heavy blows of a thin staff.
The perception within one's own body becomes flawless.
Water swirls in your presence like a secondary tide.
Wretched Fang
Tooth and dagger cut jagged lines into the air.
Primary senses become keen like that of a beast.
Teeth grow long and gnarled when you harvest them.
averageJokester wrote: ↑Wed Aug 31, 2022 4:55 am
im loving the concept of this world already! just to be completely sure, this is taking commands, right?
You are free to command the Ghoul to take a certain action. She is unlikely to listen. As compensation, readers select from paths she is certain to take.
PLASTIC PLANET 1-2 The people have chosen the following Deep Arts:
Wretched Fang, Rank 3/5 (Primary)
Cyclic Stave, Rank 2/5 (Secondary)
Epiphanies and other story events will increase the maximum rank of the Art, but only battle will improve your current rank.
When she reached the surface, it was not as she expected. She had refrained from Displacing her senses for a peek, and so, the first thing that surprised her was the air itself.
Myriad stars and galaxies drooled a tapestry across the night. Above, hanging in the milky wet sky, was the moon. It was so wide and complete and yet so far away she could never Displace far enough to touch it. She would never reach the ceiling here. Not in a million years.
At that moment, she knew the Moon was above the sun. How could they be compared? One only brought light - and she knew light. But the other was endless.
The Ghoul sat down at the mouth of the cave, eyes glued to space.
Slowly, unwillingly, her primary senses took in other details. The whistle of wind along branches, then upon her pasty skin. Strange bright animal noises that weren't ringing and weren't chirping. Cold biting her fingertips and crusting upon her beady black eyes.
She blinked and shivered, then stood up. The moon had sunken partway into the horizon.
Behind her, sunbeams spilled over the world, casting fire upon the wooden branches and pinkish red into the sky. In that moment, she knew the Sunrise was above the Moon. The Moon was endless, but incomplete without form. Then, the Sunrise provided such a thing, its power burning color into the air, teeth into the land.
The Ghoul looked at the forest around her. In the deepest dark of her eyes, something sparked.
Epiphany!
Wretched Fang maximum rank increased to 7.
Cyclic Stave maximum rank increased to 6.
+++++
She hadn't traveled for long before she saw farmland. Hundreds of stalks grasped at the sun. Fronds of wheat waved as the Ghoul passed. She followed the dirt path splitting gold oceans. A smile stretched across her face.
Then, from the wheat- "Eep!"
The Ghoul turned to the source of the sound and Displaced for a better look. Hidden in the brush was a tanned boy with tattered green clothes, knocking knees, and twig-brown hair.
"I know you're there, child. Come on out. I require a guide."
Slow, like a sprout emerging from the ground, the boy slipped from the wheat and stood in front of her. His feet shuffled into each other, and he kept relaxing and tightening his mouth.
Then he spoke.
"I'm not scared of you. The sky is beautiful, but can I die at sunset?"
She tilted her head.
"If you want." she said. "But do it after you take me to the closest town."
The kid was quiet then, and nodded. He marched along the path. As he walked, his steps became fidgety, and his heart beat faster.
Then he spoke.
"What's your name?"
And flinched in sudden fear.
"I don't have a name yet. I figured I'd find one where the sun shines. Now I want it to be at sunrise, with the moon sinking just below the horizon."
There was a pause. The boy looked at her with his eyebrows crinkled up.
"You don't have a name? That's stupid. Even spirits should have one."
He flinched again.
"Yes, everything should have a name." she nodded.
"Then why don't you?"
"I got bored of mine. I'm... looking for a new one. What do you think of Wheatgrass?"
The boy fervently shook his head. "Nah. There's not a single bit of yellow or green on you. Wheat is yellow and grass is green. It doesn't work."
"You're right. Maybe I need more examples. What's your name?"
"Stickbug."
"That's much worse than Wheatgrass."
"Yup."
There was a companionable silence as Stickbug and the Ghoul trudged along. Not even the crops stirred. Eventually they exited the field for an open plain, where a town could be seen emitting smoke in the distance.
"Y'know," said Stickbug, "You're not like I thought Death would be."
There was a pause as the wind blew.
"Your misconceptions are your own problem, child."
"Do the other spirits make fun of you for being different? Like how the older kids and layabouts get mad at me for telling the truth?"
The Ghoul grinned. It was wide and full of fangs.
"The others used to make fun of me, so I beat the ringleader and kept one of her baby teeth."
The boy flinched.
What is attacking the town while the two speak? Man, or Beast? The answer most repeated will become the truth.
PLASTIC PLANET 1-3 The people have chosen a Human threat.
When the Ghoul and Stickbug arrived before the burning town, Stickbug turned to her with his mouth set into a placid line and his heart beating like an avalanche.
“Alright. I led you to the town, spirit of death. I have a request.”
The Ghoul looked at him with an eyebrow raised. Stickbug glanced at the smoky sky and coughed.
“This sky is hardly beautiful either, is it? I don’t ask for my own life. But please save my sister, if not my hometown.”
The Ghoul laughed cold and long. “Alright, Stickbug. How did you learn I was a spirit of death?”
“Because your eyes are not those of a human.” he answered instantly, and then with the practiced ease of a quote from somewhere else. “All spirits have sections of pure white light on their body if they are peaceful, and deep black if they are malevolent. Beware the dark spirits. No being of both power and evil would spare a life when they can take it.”
The Ghoul rubbed her chin. “I see. Warned in advance.”
Stickbug’s mannerisms returned to normal, and he nodded. ”I’m already dead. To be honest, great spirit, I wasn’t gonna ask for your help, but you’re weird. You don’t act without thinking. The Kings kill whenever just cause they wanna, but I haven’t seen you hurt anything yet. And you’ve got no name.”
The Ghoul grinned at him. “So you thought I was powerful but directionless.”
Stickbug’s face was still, but his breath came in short gasps through the nose, and his blood thundered in his ears.
“You did ask for directions,'' he said.
The Ghoul laughed. This time, it was warm like fresh wounds. “Very well. I do not want your life, Stickbug. But I am certainly malevolent. And there is one thing I would ask of you. Your willpower amuses me. Show me its depth. Yank one of your teeth free for me, and I will save your sister with it. The entertainment will pay for your life. I have been so very bored.”
Stickbug gulped. His hand twitched, paused. He reached up to his mouth. He drew his tongue across his lips. He opened them.With shaking motions, he reached in. The Ghoul looked away. His heartbeat sped up. In a single lunging motion, he ripped the tooth free.
He screamed.
The Ghoul snatched the tooth from his hand before he could cover it in the dirt he then fell upon.
At that time, the tooth began to hum in concert with his yells. It was quiet at first, then a wretched buzzing like many hornets. It grew upon itself, stretching long and tapered like an icicle.
Tears formed at the corners of Stickbug’s eyes as he grasped the dirt. Then he rose, clenching his entire face to hold the pain back... His eyes landed upon the stake. “Was that all you needed?”
The Ghoul sighed.
“That was no fun at all. I can’t bring myself to laugh when I like the thing in pain. Consider it done, Stickbug.”
She entered a Stance then. One palm on the bottom of the nail-tooth, ready to push it forward in a lunge. The other hand curled around the base of the tooth, holding it steady and controlling the angle. It was as if she was both hammer and nail. Her legs stayed loose and reactive. Although she had promised to protect, she kept her feet at 44 degrees - the killer's angle, according to her teacher in the Deep Arts.
She advanced with short rapid hops. Each step kicked blade-shaped clouds of dust into the air, which lingered for moments before the wind turned them into tusks and then sparse clouds.
The good news: there was only one assailant. She had seen this earlier, when she realized Stickbug’s self-mutilation brought her no joy. She had displaced her senses throughout the town then, searching for the human she knew she would fight.
The bad news: The man gave off the energy of the Banshee Fist. Moreover, his blood wailed, signifying he had reached the third Rank. Another Ghoul had been spreading the Deep Arts beyond the walls of the Thousand Monasteries. It could not have been a sanctioned explorer - the lifespan of a Ghoul was roughly 100 years, and it had been too long.
Were there any ill-effects for a human who learned the Banshee Fist? If so, what were they? The answer most repeated will become the truth.
To learn a Ghoul's tactics would be to be a Ghoul yourself, and what is that to a human if not a rejection, no, a trade of ones humanity?
The human will lose all of its 6 senses for the Banshee Fist!
Feengoid wrote: ↑Wed Sep 14, 2022 4:01 am
To learn a Ghoul's tactics would be to be a Ghoul yourself, and what is that to a human if not a rejection, no, a trade of ones humanity?
The human will lose all of its 6 senses for the Banshee Fist!
When the Ghoul found the human, he was waiting in a clearing of blasted buildings. His body was a lattice pattern of scars. It was as if he had been pushed flat onto a sewer grate for a week. His head was bald, and he was entirely naked. She noticed with some curiosity that the man’s genitals were missing. When she checked inside his body for further changes, she noted the limbic system was precisely shredded. The instincts removed were... to reproduce, to care for children, and to self-preserve. The violent instincts were curiously intact.
His blood thrummed in an unsteady rhythm. It took a moment for the Ghoul to recognize it as speech. A voice constructed from the careful distortion of whirling white noise.
“...have no quarrel with you, spirit, but I do have an offer.” spoke the man.
“Say it, then.”
His head nodded, and the blood began to recite: “All spirits with knowledge of mysterious Arts are welcomed in the highest echelon of society. They shall be provided with the title of King, a noble last name of choice, and the right to execute subjects who possess neither. Equal combatants may be requested to further your own Art below the 10th rank-”
The Ghoul turned her head and spit on the floor.
The man himself did not react, but his pulse intensified on the side she had turned to.
“What’s your name, servant?”
“I don’t have one anymore.” said his mouth.
“Don’t be melodramatic, Edward.”, said his blood.
The Ghoul snorted. “Edward. I don’t want to hear any more. You won’t tempt me.”
She stepped forward. The tooth in her hand jabbed and retracted in a flash, sending a ghostly thrust through the air. Edward twisted his body to the left. The wind blew past his ear.
The Ghoul kicked off a little to the left, leaving a slight depression in the land. Not a moment too soon. Edward was already blurring forward. Like every student of the Banshee Fist, he was blindingly fast.
Edward stumbled slightly on the pothole her escape created. The Ghoul’s eyes narrowed. Like every student of the Banshee Fist, he lacked control. She jabbed the tooth at his stomach like an awl, leaving a puncture wound. That was all she had time for.
The punch came like a hurricane. Cuts welled up across her body even as she flew away. Her back slammed into a house, and she coughed a bit of blood.
She was on her feet again. She had to be. Edward was leisurely closing on optimal distance, where he could dash forward and she could not react.
She thrust out with the tooth again and again. It cut upon the world like rays of sunlight. Edward took blow after blow. He advanced all the same. Shit. It was like he didn’t have a sense of touch! He felt no pain!
Then the Ghoul’s eyes widened. She angled one of the shots a little down. He didn’t notice. Edward’s body stumbled slightly on the new pit . It wasn’t that he had no sense of touch. He had no bodily senses at all!
How was he seeing her? Theoretically, Banshee Fist practitioners could detect wind currents, but that would come far later, and he hadn’t even-
Edward rushed forward, fist exploding in the Ghoul’s vision. She made to duck, then juked left. His fist ignored the feint and simply followed her to the side. Another tornado punch buried her in the ground, battered by a sandstorm.
Her vision was turning hazy. She couldn’t take another of those.
But Edward was reacting to her body, somehow, not what it looked like she was doing. Could it really be that simple?
The Ghoul thought back to how they had met in a clearing. At the time a show of honor, it now stunk of a rigged environment.
She burst from the dust pile she was buried in and immediately retreated. Edward chased her casually, receiving slashes and punctures across his body.
She rushed through the town. She had to find a better environment.
The Ghoul passed a cart and stopped against the wall of a house, pushing her back against it to make it clear to her pursuer that she was trapped. He noticed. Another frontal charge pushed the air aside.The Ghoul kicked off of the ground. His fist rose with her. She kicked off of the wall. His fist followed her as she fell in a lazy arc. Just before he could hit her, she slammed her foot into the cart and landed aside. He missed.
It really was that simple! He couldn’t see the environment unless she interacted with it! Moreover, he was wide open!
A jagged fang bit through his ribs and impacted his heart. Edward stumbled. Then collapsed.
His head turned to her.
“Why did you do it?”
“King is such a cruel name.”
He died confused.
+++++
Stickbug and the Ghoul lounged in a field. In the background, the sounds of hammering and bantering workers. The Ghoul looked at the sun. It seemed so small. Then Stickbug just had to open his mouth.
“Why’d you kill him?”
“His offer was too good. It had to be a trap.”
Stickbug scoffed. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t lie to you, so just tell me.”
The Ghoul shuffled her legs around.
“...He wanted to make me a King. You said those people kill whenever they want. That won’t be me.”
Stickbug nodded. “There’s another thing that’s bugging me. Don’t you already have a tooth from that childhood bully? Why’d you need mine? Why’d you make it a whole test of courage?”
The Ghoul grimaced. The wheat waved for awhile before she could answer.
“You said I was malevolent.”
Stickbug laughed, exposing the gap in his mouth. “You’re so weird. Because someone says you’re evil, you just roll with it? You don’t have to be what other people say you are.”
“But it’s easier.”
Stickbug turned to her. “Maybe for some people. I wouldn’t know. Even I can’t get myself to shut up!” He laughed again, then schooled his face into something resembling seriousness. “Look. You’ve got no direction, to the point you’re letting some village boy tell you what to do. If I was meaner, this could’ve gone a lot worse. Promise me. Promise me this is the last time you’ll let other people decide who you are.”
The Ghoul was silent. She put a stalk of wheatgrass in her mouth and chewed it. She spit it out.
“I promise.”
What is the Ghoul’s name? If she does not like the answer, it will not become the truth.
