My apologies for the double-post, but I decided that no one else was going to vote. Since none of you seem to quite agree on what to do, I have only one solution: you shall do ALL OF IT!
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You pull back on your staff, hoping to yank the blond man off-balance, but the tendrils merely stretch to cover the distance. You let go of the staff and attempt to punch him, but the darkness around your arms stops you. Next you try to kick him, but the man laughs and slides rapidly backward, away from your blow, the dark tendrils again stretching to continue to hold you back.
You are trapped, the dark tendrils slowly creeping closer and closer to your neck... and are they speeding up? You feel more of them begin to crawl up your legs, and you shiver with the cold and with your own helplessness.
“Who are you?” you ask softly.
“I am the mighty wizard Joakim Vern,” he answers proudly.
Typical wizardly arrogance.
“What are you doing here?” you demand more loudly.
“I see no reason to explain all the esoteric details to you,” Joakim replies.
“You would not understand them in any case, little pilgrim.”
His tone indicates hatred for your entire profession.
“Suffice it to say that whatever claptrap legends your kind may have about the Mirayuki Shrine, it is fact that there is power underneath it. Power that I have tapped.”
This, this is the worst thing about wizards. They claim that the pilgrims dislike them because they are jealous of their magic and so declare it an abomination, but the truth is that pilgrims have no problem with the Will. It is a perfectly natural form of magic; there is nothing wrong with using it. No, the problem pilgrims have with wizards is that
wizards do not believe in the Fell. The standard curriculum at all of the most prestigious wizard schools, and most of the less-prestigious ones, explicitly teaches that the Fell are merely a legend, no more real than bedtime stories about a sky chariot pulled by pegasi that appears only in times of need.
“That power will destroy you,” you whisper.
The tendrils are getting close to your neck. You have no more time. You must act, now, or die.
In desperation you speak the Words of Sealing, their clear tones ringing through the forest and in your mind. But the part in your mind seems distorted...
wrong. You feel a surge of power. You feel the tendrils begin to reverse their motion. You hear the wizard screaming. You sense the World comply with your commands and rearrange itself according to your Word.
And then you feel the pain as it strikes back at you for daring to order it so. The pain is brief, thankfully, for you soon fall unconscious.
But something is wrong.
The last thing you hear is the wizard’s screaming turning into maddened laughter.
You wake up all at once, though the sudden return to consciousness leaves you a little disoriented. You lie still for a little while, staring at the wooden ceiling not that far above you.
“You woke up pretty quick,” a voice says near you, a trace of an accent you are not familiar with burring his speech. “Do you feel all right?”
You look in the direction of the voice and see the dark-haired young man from earlier watching you with concern. You also see that the walls and floor are also wooden.
“Sore,” you mutter, sitting up. You are lying on the floor, though at least the youngling was thoughtful enough to make a makeshift pillow out of your spare clothing.
“Ah- easy,” the young man cautions, coming closer in case you need help. “You collapsed...”
“Backlash,” you mumble, and put a hand to your head. It aches. Your whole body aches, as if you ran for miles and then got into an unarmed brawl which you lost. “The World hates to be told what to do.”
You look around. You are in a small, square room. In the center of one wall is a double door, currently closed. The other three walls have windows in their centers. Lamps, currently unlit, are hung in the corners. And in the very center of the room is a large, circular stone with intricate patterns carved into it... and a huge crack splitting it in twain.
Your eyes widen. No black ooze. No coldness. No deep unease. The daylight streaming through the windows is as bright as it should be. You feel no sense of wrongness. And yet, something is very wrong, because you can think of only one explanation.
“Oh no,” you whisper.
This is the Mirayuki Shrine.
The seal is broken.
And the Fell are already free.
What do you do?
Inventory:
Equipped:
Traveling Clothes: trousers, undershirt, overtunic, rope belt, straw hat, walking boots
Walking Staff: sturdy, can be leaned on or used as a weapon
Glasses: without these, your vision could generously be described as ‘bad’
Hairtie: keeps your hair out of your eyes
In your backpack:
Food: enough to last you five days, most of it bread and dried fruit
Flask: contains enough drinkable water to last you six days
Tinder and flint: to start fires with
Knife: a sharp implement suitable for cutting things or striking against the flint to make sparks; using it as a weapon is possible, but not recommended
Wooden Case: contains a spare pair of glasses, in case yours break
Spare Clothes: spare trousers, shirt, and tunic
Extra Hairties: in case one breaks or is lost; you have two
The Word:
You can currently take up to 5 points of backlash without consequence. At 5 or more points of backlash, you are weakened. At 10 or more points of backlash, you fall unconscious for a period of time every time you use the Word. At 15 points of backlash, you die.
You have taken 12 points of backlash so far.
Words Known:
Comprehension: Allows you to understand any creature. Backlash 2.
Repairing: Perform minor repairs on an object. Backlash 1.
Sealing: Maintain the seals that bind the Fell. Backlash 4. You also know how to construct such seals, but you are not yet powerful enough to do so without severely hurting yourself (Backlash 10).
