EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

[aionmods]

The Empty Throne

DESCENT

Nearly two weeks after being dragged from shrine caverns, you hear along the grapevine that the "the throne room is complete." It doesn't take long to figure out what that means; the ritual grounds that you have been hearing mention of are finally prepared, and it's only a short while before you are once again being gathered together for travel. As a small mercy, at least this time the journey is short.

Through a passage that has been blocked by a gathering of soldiers for the entire length of your stay, a stairway is revealed to you. It leads deep into the ruins, through unfamiliar structures and into the bowels of the earth. Though your feel your are mostly going downward, the walk is still long on account of how many stairs their are, and the soldiers escorting you are restless. They are now being led by the stray, mask wearing Achamites that have been accompanying the group till now, silently observing. Whatever place this is, it seems that they now hold court.

Funneled into the chambers below, you are greeted by a massive, domed enclosure of stone. Positioned around its circular radius are twelve thrones in various states of disrepair, sized as if meant to seat giants. The backs of these thrones all differ slightly in design, though most have great cleaves of stone broken loose from their architecture, as if subjected to some great cataclysm. Each is engraved with a sigil, though some have been obscured by the destruction wrought. The throne closest to the entrance has been almost entirely demolished, making it impossible to glean much about.

The dome's ceiling appears to be hundreds of feet tall at its apex, its smooth surface disrupted by stalactites that puncture through its form like teeth. As a result, many chunks of the original structure seem to have cracked and collapsed in to the floor below. When examined closely, these fragments of the domed ceiling seem to be made of a material strangely reflective in quality, though caked in many years of dirt and grime. If large enough sections are cleaned, patterns may emerge, revealing designs that look almost like star maps. The floor beneath your feet as a similar, but subtly different quality, covered in wreckage and ruin but can be cleaned to reveal complex patterns of intersecting lines.

A careful eye will indicate that these lines all lead towards the center of the room - the one space that has been cleared and scrubbed prior to your arrival. Here, the lines converge, with carefully preserved marking in the stone that bely increasing levels of runic complexity the closer you look. This is where the ritual will be held, you are told.

THE RITUAL

There is not much time to regain your bearings before you are being shuffled forth towards the ritual space; no, all the waiting has already been done. Under the command of the smaller group of Achamites, the Hylicians will make heavy use of the whips in leading everyone to their places along the rune-inscribed circle. Before that, however, small cuts will be made to each prisoner with an athame, either on their hand or arm. With a sharp, burning sensation in the afflicted skin, these cuts will spread into wounds reflecting the image of one of the eleven sigils displayed on the thrones encircling the group, and matching the shrine they were originally pulled from.

With this accomplished, they can finally be taken into the circle. With a design comprised of four triangles overlapping, the design of an open eye carved at its center, all prisoners will be led to separates points on its design where the lines cross. Seemingly arranged by their shrine sigil to be closest to whatever throne represents them, they will be brought to their designated positions one by one. Any attempts to flee or disrupt the process will be dealt with swiftly and harshly, exacerbated by the increasing levels of paranoia and fear in the soldiers themselves. Whatever is being done here, they don't seem happy to involved with it either.

When everyone is in place, the seeming master of ceremonies will finally emerge. A dark haired woman will appear from the shadows, motes of golden light fluttering about her otherwise darkness-clad visage. Moving towards the center of the circle, she will stand over the marking of the eye and begin working her magicks. As if on cue, the soldiers will withdraw any remaining whips and scurry to the outside of the circle, only for new bonds of ethereal energy to lash out of the ritual circle itself, binding each and every prisoner and dragging them down to their knees. Among the soldiers, you can hear mutterings identifying this woman as "the Aion."

"Come," she says to the coterie of robed Achamites, who will approach the circle with an assortment of vials collected into cases. There is enough for each prisoner to be given a drink, and so they will; a vial of abyssal liquid will be forced into each one of your throats, no matter how uncomfortably it must be done. While no less ruthless, the Achamites have a different way about them as they work, forcing themselves upon you with a strange familiarity that feels more akin to a mother forcing their child to take medicine than the suspicious hostility of the soldiers. As the foul liquid touches your tongue, it takes on a consistency almost like a living thing, crawling down your throat even if you refuse to swallow, all while the Achamites stroke your hair and make saccharine assurances.

Once all the prisoners have been fed their vial, the Achamamites too will retreat from the circle - all except for one. Joining 'the Aion' at the center, the two of them will begin enacting a planned ceremony of sorts, that culminates in the following scene:

The Achamite kneels before the Aion, lifting their masked face to meet their dark gaze. They speak, in practiced tones.

"To the Kenoma my body, to the Kenoma my soul."

In response, the Aion holds the Achamite's face between their hands in almost a loving gesture. She speaks softly:

"By the blood of the Martyr, I accept your sacrifice."

From the Aion's hands a darkness spreads across the Achamite's body, as if they are melting and dissolving on a cellular level. She kneels along with them, cradling them as their body breaks down, pooling in a void-black liquid around their knees. It drains into the lines of the ritual circle, surging out towards the prisoners.

Within moments, the ritual is complete.

KENOMA SICKNESS

As this dark power surges throughout the ritual circle, you will find yourself almost consumed by the tide. Whatever foul creation you were forced to swallow wakes within your chest, and you can feel it move within your veins, inside you lungs, behind your eyes. As quickly as it begins, the flood of darkness washes over you, but not without leaving you stained.

Something has changed in its wake. As you return to your senses, you will notice the magical bonds of the circle have fallen away, leaving you free to move; for once, the soldiers will not move to lead or restrain you. Instead, the Hylicians warily back away from the ritual space, retreating towards the only path upwards, where they form a defensive line. The Achamites that linger make a series of ritual gestures, praying in voices too soft to hear. The Aion woman stands in the center, her hands blackened with residue from the person you just watched fall to pieces in her arms.

"You will be given time to find your truth," she says. "Use it well."

As you recover from the experience enough to stand, she and her Achamite entourage are already retreating to join the Hylician guard. Gradually, your situation will become clear: they intend to keep your trapped down here. However, it will not be the same as when you waited before. Instead, the soldiers simply intend to block your only exit out, and otherwise leave you free to roam the full diameter of the throne room, seemingly free to do whatever you want as long as it isn't trying to break free of the cavern's confines. Each day, they will offer to their prisoners a limit supply of food, water, and firewood, but nothing more. Beyond that, you only have your increasingly dirty white robes and the same bedrolls as before.

❖ COMMUNION
The first change you will experience is an itching darkness in your mind, like a psychic wound that is becoming infected. The sort of thoughts you would normally try to force down become increasingly hard to resist; despair, hatred, and fear will plague you, and requiring great feats of will to silence even temporarily. Phantoms of the things you'd rather forget will become a constant companion, all while a presence seems to whisper: when you accept your fate, the pain will stop.

Worse than this, the darkness of your mind may not remain private. As if awakened by the ritual, your empathetic sense has become impossibly strong, to the point that you feel the broadcasted emotions and thoughts of others, and in turn, your darkest thoughts will be psychically projected to others with a volume proportional to the intensity with which you feel them. This effect is most potent between those sharing Legacy, with the capacity for their identities to become momentarily confused. In all cases, this connection may bleed into your dreams, or manifest as hallucinations.

❖ TRANSFORMATION
Yet, your mind is not the only thing that ails. In proportion to the strength of your emotions, your body may begin changing to match your state of mind. Physical transformations akin to those mentioned here will begin to manifest, themed to your inner suffering and the most negative aspects of your self conception. These alterations may shift from moment to moment, depending on the turbulence of your emotional state. They may or may not be painful.

❖ AFFLICTION
Along with the above effects, characters may also experience various more mundane ailments; essentially anything traditionally associated with illness could fit. Weakness, nausea, body aches, and chills are all common options. Along with this, void-black ooze may start to trickle from virtually any orifice. While it may stain clothing and skin, the material itself will dissipate after a few minutes in a manner reminiscent of ectoplasm. This effect may also appear around your Shard, as if the stone itself has begun to bleed.

RESISTANCE

Even as the Kenoma threatens to overwhelm you, you still have the power to fight. Though it may be a grueling war of attrition, you can force back its advances with sufficient will to survive and resist the darkness. Of course, your captors are not going to make this easy for you. Those that fight hard enough to expel the Kenoma from their bodies and spirits will take at least a week to do so, and for that duration they will be trapped within this chilly cavern, haunted by their worst thoughts and emotions.

The bedrolls barely strand up against the cold, your clothing doesn't at all, and to be comfortable you'll require fire. Yet, there is a limited amount provided to you, along with food and water, and the soldiers do not seem to be making any effort to distribute it evenly. Achieving basic warmth and sustenance may become a battle against your fellow inmates, all while you struggle against the enemy infecting your body. Cracks in the dome of the cavern lead into some smaller caverns and crevasses in the stone that can offer some privacy or protection, but the more splintered the group becomes the less the supplies will hold up. Fortunately for you, neither the cold nor starvation will kill you, but it will make you suffer.

Yet, you may still persevere. As you fight back the Kenoma, something else will be cultivated in its place. Bit by bit, a comforting and warm presence will grow within you, gradually disrupting the maladies afflicting your body and mind. Your faith and perseverance has been rewarded with an attunement to the Pleroma, the Kenoma's cosmological opposite; given enough time, the Kenoma will be forced from your being entirely, in the form of void-black sludge. Only then will your power begin to shine through, the abilities of your past life slowly returning.

You must keep your guard. With or without otherworldly power, escape will be a struggle.

ACCEPTANCE

Or, you may choose the easy option. Maybe the Kenoma resonates with your history and emotions in a way that makes it seem like it isn't the enemy. Maybe the depths of your despair are too deep to escape. Maybe your simply lack the strength to fight. Whatever the reason, sooner or later, the Kenoma claims you. The more you let it in, the less it feels like a poison and the more it feels like strength. The darkness settles comfortably into the cracks and holes of your spirit, and you awaken to its power. You feel the change viscerally.

This world is not good enough, a voice seems to speak through the Kenoma. This suffering you feel, the cruelty that has birthed this darkness in you... it is simply the rot that is consuming this existence. A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand, and all you need do is first bring about this broken reality's end.

Whatever effects you were suffering from the Kenoma's presence will fade away, and in its place, you will feel your endurance bolstered. The clarity is stark in comparison to the mire you were trapped in before. As the other prisoners suffer around you, the Aion woman from before and an accompaniment of a couple Hylician soldiers will approach you among the ruins, as if summoned straight to your location. She looks you over, her dark eyes impassive, and then asks:

"Did you feel it?"

She doesn't actually wait for an answer, your expression alone enough to assure her. She'll tell the soldiers that you are free to go, and that you are to be given a share of their food and a change of clothes. She'll escort you out of cavern and towards the upper ruins, where the soldiers and Achamites have set up camp. This feels natural to you, somehow, like you and her are on the same wavelength in a way that is hard to comprehend. She is like you, you sense. That dark power is within her as well.

She doesn't linger with you for long, but she will see that you are on your way before heading back to the caverns. She'll say that the voice you heard, that promise, was the Regent, the ruler of this land. They spoke of a power that could birth a new, better universe, and they weren't misleading you. It's within their reach, closer than ever, and if you help them achieve it you will be rewarded lavishly. For now, you are free to regain your strength while the others make their choices. She only asks that you stay in the area and be ready to join the Regent in Achamoth when all is prepared.

If you're prone to boredom, though, she will mention that you'd really be doing the prisoners a favor by convincing them to accept the Kenoma like you did. You could convince them with words, or by making their situations so unbearable they won't have a choice but to break. However you'd like. It won't be worse than what's coming for them if they carry on this way.

When she parts ways with you, you are left to your own devices. Somehow, you feel inclined to cooperate. After all, the Regent did have a point.

QUESTIONS

Are the involuntary transformations during the Kenoma sickness period temporary afflictions or permanent ones?
By default they are temporary, but characters can also keep a couple keepsake changes if you'd like! An Aion's physical appearance is something that is generally in flux, and so even if you keep something from this event, you can always alter it later.

What kind of supplies are going to be distributed to those who accept Kenoma and leave the caverns?
They'll be given food, water, and clothing. They'll be given more/better rations than they were as prisoners, but it's still the sort of food that is limited by the fact that they are out here on a mission. The soldiers will have some fresh meat from prey they've been hunting in the forest, and will generally be having a lot of stew-based food going. There are actual spices in it, though, so that's cool. This is all set up where the Hylicians are camping.

As for clothes, they will get a fresh set (including boots or shoes) and some soap to clean themselves up in the nearby creeks and ponds. Hylici has an aesthetic that leans towards ancient Greek/Roman, so while they won't have anything fancy with them, you are free to assume they are able to acquire anything in that general ballpark. They do also have pants, though. While it is now spring and Horos has a generally temperate climate, it can be chilly at night.

Will Pleroma attuned be able to escape once they've regained their powers?
Yes, they will be allowed to escape at that point, and a second log will be going up to cover that part of the event. This log should generally cover up until shortly after Pleroma start ejecting the Kenoma's influence. Characters are permitted to escape by their own power if they somehow devise a plan to do so, but as we know the Pleromas are at a significant disadvantage in this situation, some characters who have fought against the Kenoma particularly valiantly will be given some magical assistance to help the survivors escape.

Will the Kenomas be able to try to stop them?
Yes! The second log will be set up to contain some PVP, though given the Pleromas do need to escape, we ask that you play nice. There will be a battle, but it will be structured in the context of the Pleromas having to hold off the Kenomas long enough to escape, so it will be relatively brief.

Can we speak to "the Aion"?
Yes, she will be around for the full length of the event. All characters will have the chance to find her watching over the group whether they are Kenomas or soon to be Pleromas. She will not be that talkative, though, so anyone tagging her will have to lead the conversation. She will not make small talk. Martyrs will recognize her as one of them.

Comments

wildcard - surface + supply-adjacent

[semicharmed]

From Matt's perspective, it works like this:

They cut his hand, they fed him something poisonous and wriggling. For days, he thought he was dying, mind and body unspooling. Then in the darkness, a voice spoke--in just the way he feels the voices of spirits, the way he feels the axis of the cosmos tilt when he casts a spell.

A better universe awaits.

And when Matt steps out of the cave, the first thing he does is suck in a breath, lift his hand with dirty, sliced palm turned up--

And light blooms.

Just like before, like nothing ever happened to stop his communion with the heart of things. There's the tiniest ashen tinge to the gold gleam of his spell, but all things considered, that makes sense.

"Oh my God," Matt exclaims, turning a stunned, sunny smile on the man nearby. He heaves a sigh of purest relief, the breath bubbling into a laugh as he expels it. "Holy shit, that was awful."

[galdorleod]

As simple as the spell is, there's no way Howl could ignore it. As his magic has returned to him, he's discovered that such power is even more rare among the people here than it is in Ingary. All the better for him, really, and so he will hardly complain about it, but — a display of magic from another, and right in front of him as luck would have it! Well, that just has to be investigated further, doesn't it?

"Indeed it was," he answers mildly, smiling as he relates to the stranger's relief. Howl is propped against a column of the surface ruins, his clean toga fashioned mostly around his waist. The tails of the fabric sit comfortably around his shoulders, almost like a scarf or cowl.

"Strength coming back to you, is it?"

[semicharmed]

Now that Matt's positive his magic is working, and isn't going to wink out on him like so much phantasmagoric fluff, he spares his new companion a more considering glance. That robe ... thing ... sure defies gravity, doesn't it?

"Ah," Matt fumbles, still smiling but a bit distracted now. "A lot of things are, I think."

He vaguely remembers being told something about food and a change of clothes and maybe a bath, but honestly what the Aion said hadn't mattered to him as much as the way he felt: like everything was gonna be okay after all. Like he was whole again, or in a new way.

"What about you, do you feel better?" Matt asks, half data-gathering and half for the sake of reciprocity. "You look good."

[galdorleod]

Defies gravy? He finds it makes plenty of sense, not to mention quite fashionable.

"Oh, me?" Howl asks. His tone is innocent, but he looks away as he answers the question. "Yes, in a way. It's much better up here than down there."

The non-answer receives no follow-up, as Howl elects to stand up and push off from the column. Let's not talk about him or that embarrassing display he put on. Let's talk about this interesting new acquaintance, casting magic the moment he exits the underground. That's much more interesting and far less uncomfortable.

"What's your name, sir?" he asks. "I'll take you to get fed and cleaned up, if you like."

[semicharmed]

Left to his own devices, Matt dresses like an orphan taking shelter in an abandoned indie record store, so his fashion impressions should definitely be taken with a grain of salt. He nods sympathetically over how much better it is up here than down there--but at the mention of food and cleanliness, his expression brightens, making him nearly a match for the gleam of his spell.

"That sounds incredible," he says. "Um, I'm Matt. Jamison." Does his last name matter, anymore? The question doesn't bother him like it would have just yesterday; now, at least, he has a purpose. A purpose that cleaves to the heart of things, just like before. "Who are you?"

[galdorleod]

"Howl." He taps one toe against the ground and bows his head in greeting, halfway between a simple nod and a full curtsy. In better circumstances, he'd have the energy for his usual theatrics, but their recent ordeal has kept him from getting into the proper mood for that. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Matt."

Gesturing for him to follow, Howl begins to walk in the direction of the soldiers managing the supplies. His sandals scuffle against the dirt and grass with each step.

After a moment of silence, he speaks again. "So... wizard, are you? Or however it might be said, wherever you came from?"

[semicharmed]

"Howl," Matt echoes, surprised by the name but pleased with its rounded sound. And, you know, it might not be a common moniker where he comes from, but there's no denying a nighttime scream is apropos right now. "Likewise, really nice to meet you."

Matt lets the little light extinguish, and lengthens his strides to catch up.

"They'd've said 'witch' most of the time," he answers, an edge of learned caution in his voice despite the demonstration of magic he's just done. "But wizard probably applies, except that I don't have a cauldron or a tower and I doubt I could pull off the hat."

Don't, didn't. It's been weeks now, but Matt still can't get the tenses of his new circumstances.

[galdorleod]

"Witch," Howl echoes, marveling at the word. It's reserved for women in his world, but he feels no judgment in a man using it, especially here, which is decidedly not his world.

He lets out a brief chuckle and shrugs his shoulders. "Oh, don't bother yourself with that. The hat's really quite the nuisance anyway, you know. Always having to duck through doors... it's not worth it."

This is a joke. He doesn't really care whether this earnest man takes it seriously, though. That would be fun too.

[semicharmed]

Matt laughs too, glad that this guy isn't like--well, it could have been offensive of him to resort to those old stereotypes, he supposes. Maybe Matt could have gleaned as much from the way all the soldiers watched one of their number dissolve unto a goo like it was nothing, but he's starting to realize just how differently people here seem to view magic.

(And it feels really good to laugh. It seems like ages since he's wanted to.)

"That's good to know," he says. "Does that mean that you ...?"

Matt gestures Howl's way, in a vague, polite arc meant to indicate are you also a fellow practitioner of the magical arts or whatever?

[galdorleod]

Howl blinks at the gesture, and after a moment of comprehension, pokes the center of his chest with a finger.

"I...?" he repeats. "Am a wizard, you mean? Well... yes, it does. Or it may be more accurate to say that I was, at this point. Only a tiny fraction of my power has come back since I came up here."

With how Howl's smile fades slightly, it's clear he isn't thrilled about admitting that. But he manages to keep the depth of his true feelings concealed, he hopes, having had enough of wearing them on his sleeve for the foreseeable future.

[semicharmed]

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

And indeed, while Matt had been on the verge of a sunny smile at the confirmation, his expression dissipates as Howl expresses some ... ambivalence, at the very least. But at least this is a problem Matt has some recent experience with. As they walk, he adds, "I was a complete wreck without my powers, like ... I didn't feel like myself at all. I barely felt like a person."

A shake of his head.

"Maybe only a bit of mine's back too, I haven't checked. I was just so happy to have it again."

[galdorleod]

Howl doesn't feel like himself without the full extent of his powers, either. The ability has been with him since he was only a boy; the skill to use it came later. He still has all the skills, technically — he remembers exactly how to use magic. It just doesn't really work anymore.

"Well," Howl begins, putting on a visage of casual acceptance, "these ruins and woods, they're not the ideal place for me to test what I've lost and what I haven't."

This much is actually true; he can't really test what still remains of his power in this place. But Howl is not about to admit the extent of the loss, not to a foreign wizard who seems nice enough so far but is nevertheless a stranger.

"What do you want first? Food?"

[semicharmed]

Matt, no great reader of hearts and emotions, can't tell what's passing through Howl's mind. The most he can do is guess, and he always worries he's projecting his own feelings rather than accurately gleaning another person's.

Luckily, what he can do is read a subject change. And right on cue, the word food reminds his stomach of how hungry he is. Matt brightens.

"Food would be fantastic." He's still very into the idea of a bath--he's crawlingly aware of the grime on him--but you know, if he had to pick one, food's first. With a hint of self-deprecation, he adds, "Thanks for keeping me on track."

It wouldn't be the first time Matt got distracted by magic and forgot to eat.

[galdorleod]

As Howl leads his new acquaintance towards the group of soldiers passing out food, he feels the discomfort within himself. He's never had a good relationship with other wizards. The disconnect between their natural power and his demon-boosted power has always set him apart and made him a target of jealousy and mistrust. On top of that, the eventual turn of those same wizards to uncritical loyalty for the Crown, and the senseless warfare that loyalty demanded of them... well, it's really no surprise that he felt a kinship with other demon-contracted wizards, if you think about it.

As much as he knows that Matt is from a completely different world and may have nothing in common with the wizards Howl knows from his own, he can't help but feel some trepidation as he brings him to the rations line. Old habits die hard. They tell him to keep his distance from this man, while getting whatever information he can at the same time.

"If you wait here, they'll give you something eventually," he finally says. "There's no guarantee that the portion will be enough to stick to the ribs, though."

[semicharmed]

"Ah, well," as his lips twitch ruefully, "then at worst, I'm in the same spot I was in before, and at best ... I'm better."

Mathematically, that's like a 100% chance of awesome!

It's true, Matt would be surprised to hear about Howl's experiences. Not completely surprised, since witches made a deal with the devil is a well-worn anti-magic trope where he comes from, but as far as Matt knows, no actual practitioners have made deals of any kind in exchange for power. He asks ... or used to ask ... spirits and gods and the universe for help, and they'd usually give it to him, but he doesn't think that's the same thing.

Then again, Matt hasn't had many opportunities to interact deeply with other magic users. Online, a bit, in San Francisco a bit. But the state of the world made that tricky.

"Do I ask them for soap too, or does that happen elsewhere?"

[galdorleod]

"Only if you plan to eat the soap," Howl answers with a casual smile. He tips his head in another direction, towards a shallow stream a hundred yards deeper into the woods, and is about to say more — when an idea dawns on him.

"...Say," he begins, his eyes lingering in the direction of the bathing stream. There are soldiers in that direction, they're the ones who hand out the soap. Along with clean clothes. But, Matt doesn't know that yet... or, more relevantly, the soldiers would know that Matt has no reason to know that yet.

"...What say you and I work together a bit, to get our due portion from these brutes?"

[semicharmed]

Matt's attention has already shifted to follow Howl's gesture, scanning the tree line for where he's looking. That say, though, has such a tone to it. He glances back to Howl's face with a smile.

"I'm listening."

Even if Matt were the type to suspect other people's motives as a matter of course, which he isn't, the calculus here would be simple. Unlike the soldiers, Howl has never tied him up and forcibly transported him anywhere. Ergo, he's the trustworthy party.

"What kind of work are you thinking of?"

idk how tall matt is but if he's shorter than 5'10" imagine howl leaning in to talk to him

[galdorleod]

"A bit of the underhanded kind," Howl admits as his smile turns fox-like. But, he senses that Matt might be inclined assist him in a profitable ruse, underhanded though it may be.

He takes a step closer to the other wizard and, keeping an eye out for anyone who may be attempting to eavesdrop, he lowers his voice and continues.

"You've seen some of the others we're trapped here with, right? A good few of them don't look human at all. And I wouldn't be surprised if some of the ones who look human are, in fact, not. I'll bet some of those unusual ones have needs that may not be met by the soldiers' supplies here... Would you agree?"

he is exactly 5'10"!! i need to .... finish his game info ...

[semicharmed]

Oh, how could Matt say no to this smile? He mirrors Howl's step closer with a shift of his own, narrowing the gap between them. Here in the little pocket of warmth their proximity creates, Matt can't interpret underhanded as anything more than a bit of minxy fun.

So he nods slowly, his expression pleasant and receptive but slightly puzzled.

"Sure, I can see that," he allows. "You mean nutritional needs, like vampires and blood ...? Or something else?"

[galdorleod]

Howl shrugs and waves his hand, dismissing the question. "Those specifics aren't at issue," he says. "Rather, it's that the soldiers likely don't know those specifics any more than we do, and how we might be able to take advantage of that fact. What I envision is this: one of us creates a distraction of some sort, while the other makes away with the rations we're rightly owed."

There are any number of ways they could, although Howl does not have anything specific in mind. Not yet, at least. But with his mind stuck on the off-hand comment he made earlier, his first thought is to try duping a soldier into trading a portion of soap for extra food. Having a second person there to help sell the con would make it far more likely to work.

Howl gestures into the trees again, in the direction of the river.

"Who's to say a Wizard doesn't need soap to live, hm? And yet, how dreadful to assume the same of every Wizard?"

[semicharmed]

Matt laughs, surprised by the mental image. He doesn't totally track with what Howl's thinking--his brain emphatically doesn't work like this, more equipped to chase after truth than invent something of his own--but he's down to try anything twice.

"Okay ... so is the distraction here that I say 'excuse me, but where's the ration of soap I need to consume as fuel'?" Matt can't actually manage that without his lips twitching towards more laughter. He shakes his head. "Or maybe I should be the one who steals stuff. I'm not exactly a pickpocket, but I can move things with my mind."

Matt scrubs a hand over his cheek, sheepish.

"Tell me what you want me to do and I'll tell you how likely it is I can do it."