Born a Monster

But not then, not as the three of them headed directly into the madness and the Madness that was causing it. As they... willingly...

Pardon me. As they drew the taint into them, as a bloated leech might draw forth blood. Willingly casting aside control, composure, and all the other trappings of civilization. As Thuria’s laughter drowned out all others.

It is to my shame that I scrabbled at the door. I didn’t try to pick the lock. (That lock had fastened when the door closed, I now know.) I’m surprised I had the sanity to try turning the handle.

The only wise thing I did was try making my way away from the door, away from where they HAD to pass to get out. I’m not sure what I feared, but I knew it would happen if they came upon me trying to escape.

[You have taken 6 points of bludgeoning damage; after armor no damage has been received.]

A boot came from someone I wasn’t even watching for, slamming into my shoulder hard enough to turn me toward the wall.

“Down, inmate. Down!” But his voice lacked the conviction to be commanding. The orderly was as scared at this moment as I was.

Scared people do stupid things; I found a wall and crouched by it.

.....

“You do anything crazy, and I’ll...”

“How do you do it?” I asked.

“By strength and skill, inmate. Strength and skill keeps you lot in line.”

“Not me.” I gestured with my eyeless head. “That. How do you fight THAT without magic?”

“Strength and skill.” he repeated. “Fighting that supernatural filth you lot breed is the job of the clergy, though lately they’ve been leaving this to Dame Doctor Thuria’s responsibility. Earth above and below knows how, but she’s holding the line.”

Oh merciful gods! Did he actually believe that crap?

But not all truths need be spoken. The... for lack of a better term, tainted coven that Thuria was leading continued to siphon power from the Madness. A force that not even angels could fight with impunity...

[You are Soulmarked: Enemy of the Faithful by Cassandra the Hangwoman]

Yeah, that was still a thing, too.

I wondered...

[Replacing a missing kidney costs 225 nutrition, or 675 to construct hastily.]

Hrm... so if I could contain it...

[You may contain up to 2 Taint within your body; beyond that threshold, it will not be contained.]

Damn it!

None of my classes gave any manner of taint resistance or storage, and the ones from my Titanic bloodline were behind (had as prerequisite) all kinds of abilities for gaining Taint. I mean, there had to be a way to increase that containment limit, or better, to avoid Taint at all.

But it was like a status effect; the skills to resist it weren’t the kind you just invested points into. You learned by doing, or you failed, as I once upon a time had.

Well, okay a little under two years before, but also a little more than a third of my lifetime.

And yet here I was, in a locked cage with a pool of Tainted Madness, and roughly...

“How many inmates are in here?” I asked the orderly.

“Why do I care?” he scoffed. “None of you live long enough to bother with counting. But the sleeping mats are three to a bedroom, with eight bedrooms, so... thirty two?”

“Two and a half dozen.” I said. I was trapped in here, blind, with two and a half dozen... wasn’t it more? Two and a half dozen madmen and madwomen, any of whom might host, or strengthen, or something else to the Madness.

“Sure, count them by any method you want.” the orderly said. “But don’t expect me to join you in your madness.”

I summoned my reticule.

[Unknown/Unidentified Insanity, Second Gradient] it informed me.

“Sure thing.” I said, “I won’t spread any of my insanity in your direction.”

I sensed a shift in his posture, then a shift back. “See that you don’t.” he said.

At least I was sane. I focused my reticule on my own self...

[Isolationist Syndrome, Second Gradient. This monster has trouble forming meaningful emotional attachments to others. Although lower ranked than its Charisma...]

Trouble forming meaningful attachments? What a load of... no, wait. Okay, that was a fair and probably neutral assessment.

Still... Fuck. You. System.

I had plenty of people I felt attached to. Okay, most of them hated me, or used me like a plaything, or...

People suck! Why did I want attachments to them, anyway?

The quiet was interrupted by the uncoiling of bound metal. “I don’t like the way you’re breathing, inmate.”

“How should I breathe?” I asked. “In through the nose and out through the mouth?”

“Quietly.” he said, “calmly.”

“Ozkaer.” a female voice crooned. Or... something low and lush, slow and sensuous. “Is the inmate causing you trouble? Do we need to consider further treatment?”

“What’s your diagnosis, inmate?” he growled at me.

“I’ve had no time to provide him one.” she soothed. “But it’s obviously something severe. Just look what he did to his own eyes.”

The metal whip skittered from side to side across the floor. “So a danger to himself. What about to others?”

“Hmmn.” she sighed, as her dwarven coven-mate unlocked the door to freedom. “Give me a few days. Nurse Shondru, schedule the appointments, now that he’s awake again.”

“Of course, ma’am.” her cohort replied.

“I’d rather have an actual meal.” I said. “I can’t live off the same fare as your dwarven patients.”

“Nurse de Rollo?” she asked.

The human snickered. “I can guess what he needs, provide him with... interesting meals.”

That didn’t sound all that interesting to me at all.

“Well, then. Whatever he needs, nurse.” they passed through the gate, and this time I heard it lock as it closed behind them. “I do want to diagnose him before he dies.”

“Well, then.” Ozkaer said. “Back to the common area with you.”

Not where I wanted to go, but I wanted to face his metal whip even less.

The madness was... lounging. Not dormant, nor even asleep. Just there, with little energy to move.

“And I roll...” someone was saying, clacking an object in the palms of their hands, “Hah! A warden!”

A fist slammed into the stone paving on the floor. “Ugh. You always get a warden when you roll that piece. How do you do that?”

“It’s rune magic.” the first whispered.

“You must teach me.”

“No, I don’t think I must, but I will anyway. It’s all about selecting the right piece to roll.”

“So many different pieces... I chose... this one. Aw, a forge.”

“Well, since both your forges are blocked in by your own pieces...”

“Wait! This worker has an accident, and dies in the forge.” I heard the clack of stone pieces colliding, sending one skittering across the floor.

“Ha! My priest calls for a funeral.” his opponent said.

“Fool! So does mine, then!”

“So, your lordship.” Dax said, plopping down next to me. “You have an interest in the game of lords?”

“In Achea, we play a similar game, lords or not.”

“And I notice your lordship ran for the one door in or out. Is his lordship planning an escape?”

I sighed. “I cannot fight the evil that exists here.”

“Lord, none of the rest of us care to fight her, either.” he tapped his head twice. “Never ends well, if you take my meaning.”

I held out my left palm. “Tell me what you see.”

“I am flattered, of course, but I don’t read the striations of the palm.”

“Jax, I know what I felt, what I smelled. Can you see flecks of iron rust in the palm of my hand?”

“Ew. That is revolting. Who does that to the noble metal, iron?”

“Time does that, Jax. Time and moisture. Tell me, is there enough there to see?”

“Ugh. Go share your plans with others. I can’t look on that further. Insult an orderly. Call them unwashed. They’ll bathe you, sure enough.”

“If it’s that bad, Jax, then yes, I have a plan.”

“Away from me, dirty unwashed peasant!” he said, shoving me off the bench and to the floor. “You have nothing I desire. I shall await the return of my lord.”

.....

Fine. It wasn’t as if I had a plan to share with him anyway. But, I thought, rubbing my hand on the thin gown-like garment they let me wear, it wasn’t as if I had an entire lack of a plan, either.

Yes, if you care about your chi, or psi points, or mana, or faith, this is EXACTLY how you should breathe. Always.

The warden is a piece in dwarven chess, roughly equivalent to a knight. And no, you don’t attempt to roll the pieces in normal dwarven chess.