[Stygians] Calamity's Face - Act I: Oracle

[QUEST: Dungeon - Room of Quest Giver

WC: 645 WORDS]

Hey, you. You're finally awake.

>Attempt to stand up (Failure)

Gently now! Gently. To rise from slumber after such a long time is never easy. Your essence is fragmented, your dominions fallen to ruin- yes, you especially. Unraveled one. Torn to ribbons yet still not to shreds. I applaud your resilience in the face of the Calamity.

Now, you must have a great many questions as to why you are here. Ask and you shall receive. But listen here and listen well: some answers are simply not worth pursuing.

>Confusion

How am I speaking to you without using my mouth? An excellent beginning. You see, I could not form words even if I tried. I am born of the thoughts that scream over silence, sweeping over dreamers as all-encompassing as the tide - to put it simply, I am in your head. I, however, am no hallucination.  That you can rest assured of.

>Ask stranger's name 

My name is Nadir. Herald of the new world you have arisen in.

>Is the reset over yet? Where is Circe Azalea? Where is the Alchemist???

What of the reset? Your Alchemist? I know not of what you speak. Those are artifacts of an era long since past. Kingdoms have fallen, rebuilt and fallen again while you slept. It has been a long time. Such a very long time that I thought you might not wake when I first found you. The Calamity was hard on us all. Even those of us who did not yet exist.

>Ask about the Calamity

The Calamity... I do not know if I have the words nor the wisdom to explain. Yet I will try. At the end of your time, a purge of sorts was enacted. Not of you, Labyrinthine One. Nor your shadow, nor your brother, though I see now his wounds are grievous indeed. Those are from the Calamity. A great and terrible sight it was, I am told, a thousand voices crying out impaled from the branches of the Nightmare Tree before falling silent forever. Records of this time are scarce. I understand. People do not wish to speak of what came before, or what comes after everything is lost.

>Herschel, he's not well. Can you fix him?? 

No, my sister. I am no apothecary. There is no solution to end his pain. No magic potion I can offer. I sense he would not wish me to tend to him even if there was. He is both more and less that what he was before the Calamity. Shaped by the empty space within him - the absence of all whom he has lost.

Weep if there is need to, Champion of Light. The time of tribulations is over. Already you have arisen; now you must rise still further to reclaim what was once yours.

>Ask about current location

We are in a dungeon. Not an entirely unfamiliar predicament to those such as myself. I was born in a place like this not so very long ago. Dungeons have an inherently organic nature to them; they grow up around powerful monsters, adding layers upon layers as the years slide into obsolescence. It is high time you leave these chambers, and when you do, this dungeon will crumble around your ears. Nothing can last forever. Not even calamity. Not even change.

>Express righteous indignation

-I am not saying you are the monsters. Or if you are, does that make us so very different? You are my kin and I am yours. There is no shame in admitting the truth.

>Prompt timed out 

There are dead things down here. We are surrounded by them. We do not have to be like them.

Come, let us away from this place. Kingdoms await us. No longer yours, no, but soon they will be. Very soon.