Tread Lightly – Among Monsters And Men

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Earl Garner

 

I arrive at The Cabin as I realize Elizabeth must be doing the same. I wonder what Sigil she will take, though. This time, I grabbed only the Shaman with my mind, so I shouldn’t have multiple questions pointed at me, right? Only one should appear if I’m right.

Instead of checking the book first, I look around for that odd light that was here last time, and thankfully it seems to be nowhere. I was quite concerned about that, but not taking a Concoction to skip past time seemed to do the trick.

Taking quiet steps that force calm into me from the extremely hectic event that is technically still happening, I reach the table. The second I do, the tome on its surface flings open and gives me a question.

To what extent is a creature’s survival dependent on luck, and to what extent is it determined by their own agency?

This question gives me an instant hint as to what the combination of Shaman and Cardsharp will be. The Sigil is going to mutate from pure fate to the fate of a creature, huh? Maybe something more focused on survival or wilderness? I won’t be sure until I answer this question, though.

Hmm… Truly to what extent? That is a good question.

On one hand, luck can certainly play a role in the survival of animals and plants. Natural disasters, climate changes, and other environmental factors can significantly impact the ability of creatures to thrive and reproduce. For example, a drought may cause a plant to wither and die, or a predator may be bereft of food should something wipe out their prey. But that’s only regarding the natural world without Sigils.

When it comes to Sigils, simply being unlucky enough to meet something far beyond your strength can spell your doom. Some beings are so powerful that merely being in their presence can crush a weaker man.

On the other hand, living creatures also possess agency and the ability to make choices that can influence their survival. A bird may choose to migrate to a more favorable environment to avoid harsh winter conditions, or a predator may choose to hunt a different prey species if their usual food source is scarce just as a man might choose to hunt for himself if his crops are not growing how they should.

There is a limit to this, however. Sometimes, the world simply puts you in such a shitty situation that nothing you can do will save you. Leonard, Elizabeth, Esther, Lonnie, and my escape from our hometown is an example. We did all we could to get out, but had Wyatt not appeared, we would have almost certainly died somewhere along that road.

I would like to say that agency is more influential than luck, but I think my experiences have shown otherwise. My manipulation of luck with Reshuffle and Marionette has given me great insight and power into how fate, luck, or whatever it is affects the world. But at the same time, are those not just manifestations of choice? How I use them is just as important as what is given, no?

Had I used Reshuffle without preparing, then it would have done nothing. No explosion would have happened and had I used Marionette without finding a place to put the bomb, then it would have done far more damage when it exploded.

Are they equal then? Or does it depend on the person? Do some people simply have the ability to make better choices while others are put in positions where luck grants them the right choices?

Is The Cabin asking for me specifically or the world? For me, I’d argue, even if this is arrogant, that my decisions have more power simply because I can reach further with my mind. For the rest of the world, however, I’d argue that luck is more powerful than agency.

But everything revolves around me to my perception, and that will skew things. This answer I give will likely affect how these Sigils combine and which side is given more focus, the Shaman or Cardsharp. I think my answer evens out with what I want to happen with this Sigil.

“They are equal. Choice and luck meet at a point in the middle in the survival of all.”

I speak out loud with a small whisper to the tome with my answer, heeding the warnings of silence. In response, the book shifts to a new page, words of some indecipherable language that I hope to one day learn that tunnel straight into my mind.

You have taken a step off the beaten path. All are unique, but you have chosen to embrace that fact and choose a path unique entirely to you, that none even with the same steps could replicate. The steps have changed. The road has changed. The end has changed.

Your third Sigil towards Autonomy, toward Harmony, and toward Kismet’s Agent. One step remains until your Autonomy

The Wilding

The survivor of life made with equal parts action and inaction. Able to twist the agency of others into obscurity using the same threads you use to twist the world. As you twist the agency of others, yours shall grow. Like a small seed siphoning sustenance, your instincts and thoughts will grow as you take from others. Your oneness with nature has increased, and as such it will answer your inquiries and aid your survival should you ask.

The words from the page enter my mind and give me a sense of profundity. This is what it means for a Sigil to mutate. For someone to take Sigils of different types. I always wondered how exactly it worked. It seems as though your choice determines just how they merge. I chose halfway, and as such, it will merge in the middle.

It seems as though the Wildling will give me two Sigils skills. One that allows me to twist the agency or decision-making from others. Based on the concepts of Shaman, I can figure it won’t necessarily be slowing down thoughts as that’s more Mentalist. It’s likely to be key to that point of instinct mentioned. I think I will be able to weaken the survival instincts of others somehow.

The second skill is likely that bit about inquiring into nature. If it’s something as simple as knowing what plants might be capable of, then it’s not that big of a deal, just a small add-on. But if I’m able to sense the composition or something deeper, then this could be huge. An Alchemist always needs materials, and if I can easily find what I need, then what I can make will be increased further.

My excitement is hard to hold in at the second point as I hope that is the case. I love creating things, and recently I’ve been forced to handle bombs as they are the most useful. They are still fun, but it gets stale. I want to make Concoctions, potions, and all the other incredible stuff that’s been recorded in the alchemy books. Bombs are only one side of it. They are the side where they meet with Craftsmen and their guns.

So, I move on to the next side of the page with my Sigil inscribed into the page as one single construct despite the three it is composed of. A series of shifting lines with something that looks like grass meets my eyes before I continue onto the next part.

May your journey, while certainly filled with drought, be glorious, long, and worthy of my aid.

A Wilding fights against the natural world. All things possess agency and luck, yet the Wilding must be capable of harnessing both, having complete Autonomy. But to be Autonomous, the Wildling must prove themselves. A Proof of a previous Metaphor. You must prove your answer to one of the questions,

Why do so many people, including yourself, thrive on risks?

 

What is the most impressive sleight of hand?

 

To continue, my Wildling, place your mind within the Sigil and return to whence you came.

I do as it asks, and I am whisked away back to reality.

 

*************************

Elizabeth Stroudwater

 

My heart finally begins to calm as I enter The Cabin. Earl’s insanity almost got us all killed. I wasn’t expecting the first bomb to go off, though, and I’m so glad I caught onto his meaning with the second.

He also made me realize just who I am protecting at that moment. It’s not those who would do the same for me, it’s those who will and have. Earl put so much effort forth in retrieving a woman who has a high chance to be genuinely terrible, what would he do for me? The question has no answer, but I am sure it is just as much as I would for him.

We’ve been through a lot together. And I’m sure only much more will come.

I put my hands together to try and stop their shaking as I move toward the tome on the table that opens to my attention. It reveals three questions to me, just as I hoped. I felt some resonance with Lawman within Hazardous Klein’s Metamorphosed Sigil. And as I read the questions, I find the one I want quickly.

Is strength bravery or is bravery strength?

What speaks louder, words or silence?

What is responsibility?

The responsibility question is certainly Lawman. The other two are just the combinations of the other two Sigils within that combined one. Probably Soldier and Rogue or Comanche.

My answer is swift to this question as responsibility is nothing new to me. I’ve been taking care of myself and a group of knuckleheads for a while. This recent duo beside me, Earl and Primrose are definitely the hardest to get to work together, though.

It is the quality of being reliable, dependable, and trustworthy in carrying out one's duties and fulfilling one's commitments. If I say I will do something, I will do it. If someone needs me, I will be there. If someone needs the truth, I will give it. Any other way just feels… wrong. It is the way the world should be in my eyes.

The tome in front of me shifts as this answer comes to mind without any falsity present in my thoughts. It reveals to me information in an indecipherable language similar to yet different from my first trip.

Your second Sigil toward Control, toward Order, and toward a Governed Law.

The Officer

The guardian of the weak and the leader of the few. Able to inspire reverence and respect with your presence. Your responsibility gives you strength. The stronger the weight on your shoulders, your responsibility, the more powerful your very Ether is. Your stature now inspires attention just as your voice does.

I digest the words fairly quickly that are sent into my mind. Officer, huh? Makes sense I suppose. The skill here is likely making people more willing to listen or pay more attention to me. The other part, however, is about how the more powerful the weight upon me and my responsibility the more powerful my Ether. It is quite interesting even if a bit vague. It feels similar in scope to how Wyatt’s Sigil simply gave him a better resilience to Ether, but something is different here.

His was a boon that was always covering him, yet I bet this one is not. I’m just going to name these two prematurely as they seem simple yet complicated in use. Intimidation and Conviction shall be the two names. Obvious, but I don’t care. Function over form and all that, yeah? Sacate would be proud of that. I miss him. We’ve been gone for months on this wild goose chase that actually ended up with us finding our goose.

Can’t wait to be back. My attention moves to the other side of the page, observing my new Sigil and the words that lead back to that collapsing building. The Sigil is a balance, shifting ever so closer to even, staying at that point for a few moments before breaking. Underneath are the words to take me out and the Metaphor for the next step.

May your journey, while certainly filled with disorder, be glorious, long, and worthy of my aid.

An Officer guards the weak and strives for the balance of safety around them and theirs. To reach this safety, they must keep the peace. And to be prepared to do so, they must find an answer to the Officer’s Metaphor.

How can peace best be kept?

To continue, my Officer, place your mind within the Sigil and return to whence you came.

I spend a moment memorizing the Metaphor before placing my hand upon the tome. And the next thing I know, I’m holding onto Earl who is limp and struggling to speak about whatever that man did to him.

He slurs his words trying to speak, and the only thing I can manage to understand is a slurred “Floor.”.

The second I recognize what he said, a bullet whizzes past my head. Turning my attention backward, I see a cloud of green gas barreling straight into a massive hole blasted into the floorboards of the building. Icarus is nowhere to be seen, and Primrose must have gotten her already. But that doesn’t mean everything is good. The other members of the Hazards are beyond pissed off at Klein's death and are now looking at me and Earl with murder in their eyes.

Thankfully, Primrose took care of two of them on her way to get Icarus, killing the one holding the lady and another that was nearby. So, now we’re down to three. Earl’s explosions make both enough chaos to help but also enough to draw even more attention. We need to go now!

I grab tightly onto the loopy Earl and try out my new Sigil skill as bullets start to fly at me. Luckily, debris is falling from the ceiling and filling the building of smoke and dust to obscure their sight. Ether flows from my right lung where my core is placed into my heart where Conviction begins, tinting all the Ether in my body with a pale gold color.

A great drain appears on my heart as it does so, making me both physically feel a pain in the organ and emotionally feel a drain of motivation. But in return comes great power. I follow up Conviction with Inspire as I whisper to both myself and Earl.

“Move!”

Then, I finish it up with a burst of Physical Strengthening to my legs, making my movements toward the hole in the center far faster. It feels almost as if there is no weight tying me down as I move through the dusty gunfire as fast as I can. Bullets whizz right past me constantly, and I get the impetus to make several movements here or there that seem to miraculously keep me from getting hit. Once, I trip and slide almost half a dozen feet as a broken beam falls right behind me and an icicle crashes into the chandelier, only missing me as I’m so low to the ground.

I would say it was the hand of some God shifting the fate of my life, but I know the truth. It is the mumbling and incoherent Earl who is using his Ether to his utmost capability. This almost miracle continues as one of the Hunters rushes me down with a blade in one hand and a revolver in her other, but just as they get close to strike, I get the instinct to jump to the side.

And I do so, trusting whatever Earl is doing to me right now. The instinct also seems to tell me to not stop my fall as I slam into damaged floorboards that break underneath. I feel a sense of weightlessness as we both start falling down into the dark sewers beneath as the building above begins to reach a total collapse.

I see the roof collapse as we tumble down into the dark. I even catch a quick glance of the woman chasing us down as she also falls down with parts of the building falling after her. I look down with fear rising and hope spiraling out of control. Please tell me there is water down here! And please don’t be too dirty! I don’t want to die of dysentery!

I reach out to catch anything, literally anything, but only the swift wind of gravity and falling meets me as I slam into a stream of water beneath the city. It hits me with surprise as we are now in the complete dark, and the fall concussed me quite a bit. But what really surprises me is the smell. It is fucking terrible. My nose burns and physically hurts at the smell that is like a rotting carcass left out in the sun for weeks, attracting a swarm of flies and spreading its foulness for miles around but only if that foulness was concentrated in an indoor enclosure.

I spend a few seconds righting myself in the surprisingly deep water filled with chunks of things I refuse to acknowledge before I also pull Earl’s head out of the water.

Then, I swim as fast as I can, pulling him and myself in one direction just hoping to find something to get us out of the water.

Eventually, I do find something, my wet and disgusting hand slapping against hard stone. The sound is even foul as I pull us both out of the water. We both fall onto the stone and begin to gasp for breath simultaneously. He was under far longer than I, but Conviction wears me out. I stop the flow of Ether to my heart as a wave of lethargy covers me.

I go to close my eyes at the pure tiredness, but a match lights up in the total darkness, a lady with a pristine scarf meeting my eyes in the dark. I look around with the small amount of light and see another body beside her. Icarus.

“Looks like the wannabe genius did it. Even if you’re—augh— I need to step away. Fucking hell you two are disgusting.”

Primrose steps away from us, leaving us without any light as she holds her nose.

“I wish you two didn’t fall in the water. It’s not that bad otherwise, but now I got to deal with it. Let’s just get going. Oi! Don’t fall asleep!”