Nine Circles

demonKnowledge: false -- HELL IS EMPTY, [[AND ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE.|what you know]]

Q: Hey, so, listen - <i>I</i> know about demons, obviously, and I know you do, but maybe the reader doesn't so um - what are demons, again? A: Well! Demons are elemental creatures of earth. They have horns and tails and live a very long time and like collecting stuff and making stuff and writing very long, <i>very</i> detailed books about every imaginable and unimaginable topic. They usually have some ability to manipulate metal, stone, or other inorganic materials using elemental magic (not plastics or anything wholly synthetic, though). [[Q: Gotcha. So where did they come from? ->caldera]] [[Back|what you know]]

Q: Gotcha. So like where did they come from? A: From about as far south as you can go - it's very volcanic down that way. There was this caldera, see, filled with hot nasty volcanic mud, boiling away, and one day, some [[Folk|what are folk]] fell in it while they were poking around. [[It sucked,->remade]]

It sucked, because their flesh was basically dissolved by corrosive liquid clay and their souls were trapped in this morass of hot goop, and got all tangled up with the elemental forces that swirl through the rocks and minerals and metals and other inorganic matter of the planet and after a great deal of thrashing and kicking, a couple of creatures made of clay and blood and bones and stuff crawled out of the caldera and stood at the rim trying to get their bearings. [[Some other Folk, ->this is cool]]

Now - that might have been the end of it, but once it was established that a radical personal transformation could be had by simply throwing yourself into volcanic mud, Folk of a certain mindset started jumping in on purpose. The population of demons grew, and some of them worked out how to have baby demons with each other, and so it was that they all lived long, prosperous, curious lives. [[Q: And still do?->until]]

Some other Folk, who were also poking around but who didn't fall in the mud saw this and, after they'd stopped screaming, introduced themselves and asked what was going on. The demons looked at each other and frowned - if you've just been invented it's difficult to know how to explain yourself - before saying "We used to be you. But now we're something else, and we think that something else is called demons, and we think it's actually [[very cool|historians]] of us to be here." [[Now - that might have been the end of it,->it continues]]

demonKnowledge: true -- Q: And still do? A: Well - sort of. Kind of. It's very different nowadays, you understand. Q: I don't think I do. [[A: You soon will.|what you know]]

Okay. So. Demon society was just thriving and vibing and keeping it so right and so tight, and there were like, circles of demons who all liked hanging out together and doing the same kinds of stuff, and they were doing scientific research and arcane studies and inventing machines and writing poetry and making sculptures and dumplings and booze and swords and developing martial arts and teaching anybody who came to see them whatever it was they wanted to know and spreading knowledge and wisdom and tech and magic throughout the lands beyond. [[Research Destination ]]

Anybody who was really keen on doing advanced research on anything would journey down to Hell and study with demons. Demons would travel out into the rest of the world and teach and do research and occasionally get nasty with one of the Folk and start matrilinial lines of witches (Folk with demonic ancestry and the capacity to use magic).

One day, one of these demons got hired by a newly-unified kingdom north of the mountains, to tutor their young princess royal and bring her up to be a wise and great leader, who would carry a torch into a new age of prosperity and glory, and such like. The demon (the unfortunate Todak of Sen []) did their best. [[Terrible Princess]]

This was not good enough. The princess needed more, demanded more. Her natural lifespan wouldn't suffice, she had no capacity to wield magic or elemental forces, her orders could be disobeyed, plots could be made against her. She was becoming aware of the frailty of her flesh, and it disgusted her. [[Become demon?]]

The princess, however, was a horrible person. She liked the taste of power. She was very certain of her elevated position, and equally certain that it could stand to be elevated even further. She asked the demon what she could do in order to become the most powerful queen in the history of the world. Todak wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. They pointed out that technically, given that the princess was heir to the only monarchy going, she had already achieved her goal. [[Not Enough]]

“Well, your highness, I don't know if it would help, but if you seek a longer life and the capacity to wield magic, you could attempt to become a demon. Although I warn you – there's no way to ensure that you won't be wholly changed by the process. You will emerge from the caldera a different person, and that person may not have the same ambitions.” Or at least Todak hoped she would not have the same ambitions. [[become demon! ]]

The princess simply smiled like an endlessly deep crevasse and said “We consider this wise council. We shall start at once.” Which meant that two weeks later, she marched her scrawny little butt into the caldera full of mud that makes you turn into a demon and screamed a lot while her flesh was being dissolved and managed, through sheer unmitigated stubbornness and rottenness, to emerge as one of the most magically powerful demons that ever lived.

[[she 2]]

[[she 3]]

[[SHE]]

She then tried this magic on one of her tutors. They resisted momentarily, but were surprised enough that she broke past their defenses and spent an hour happily toying with them, working over their mind until she knew its every fold, puppeting them all over the room and shrieking with laughter. [[resist centralization]]

She drank up the knowledge catalogued over millenia. Some of that knowledge turned out to be quite dangerous. Her mentors were vaguely aware of the idea that people might use learning for evil, but they themselves wouldn't dream of it, and didn't dream that Sen Sakaneo would either. And it was in this way that they fucked up. [[can hardly fault]]

Now, demons, (bless them, bless their sharp little horns and their tufty little tails and their gnarly little teeth), are a bit of a naive bunch (you'd think they'd learn, what with living for a couple thousand years each, but they haven't). They'll tell you anything you want to know and a lot more besides, and so when Sen Sakaneo strode imperiously into the Great Library of Sen Czernathko (the Circle of Arcane Arts) and demanded to speak to the most powerful mages, she got exactly what she asked for. [[drank up knowledge]]

You can hardly fault them at the outset, but as Sen Sakaneo learned more and delved deeper and even started to hurt people just to see what would happen - at a point where you or I, short-lived creatures of flesh that we are, would say things were starting to get out of hand - the wisest demons of Sen Czernathko did nothing. “She's young,” they said “And youth is such a fruitful time of experimentation, who are we to stop her learning all she can? Who knows what wonders she might uncover?” [[curious beasts]]

She was thrilled at her success - that sort of manipulation is fantastically difficult, and usually knocks out the intended victim before they can actually do anything, but the student in question not only bent to her will, he also had no memory of what had happened once she had released him. The conference erupted into havoc, which Sen Sakaneo was only too happy to spread further. [[puppeted]] [[Havoc 1]]

[[Havoc 3]]

[[Havoc 2]]

[[Havoc 4]]

She named herself Sen Sakaneo (the Circle of Conquest), which was presumptuous of her because a Circle is not just one person, it's a shared identity held by many. But it seemed that her ambitions and her desire for power had stuck. [[she 1]] [[naive bunch]]

Because demons above all are curious beasts, and they will follow that curiosity straight off a cliff, as long as they think there might be something interesting at the bottom. [[Graduate student]]

One day, Sen Sakaneo wormed her way into the mind of a young Scale-folk graduate student who was attending a conference being held in Sen Czernathko. She made him beat another attendee half to death with a leather-bound treatise on geomagnetism. [[Havoc]]

Demons had, for millenia, resisted any form of centralized authority. They cared nothing for hierarchy, and despite being very organized in areas where it mattered, had generally avoided forming anything that could be called a government (despite studying every other extant form of government in exquisitely granular detail and inventing speculative new ones as a sort of party game). Sen Sakaneo was quite aware of this, but in her usual stubbornness decided that they were all just going to have to change their minds. [[mindsnare]]

A mindsnare (the sort of magic she had been practicing on hapless scholars) is one thing if you're trying to use it on somebody who doesn't know what's happening. Confusion (or revulsion, as the case may be) serves as a natural defense against it – if you're hit with a sudden desire or line of thought you can't explain or that disturbs you, you're liable to investigate it, and in so doing the snare will break apart unless the caster can use enough brute force to keep it in place. [[ensnare itself]]

However, as Sen Sakaneo was about to determine, it is quite another thing if your intended victim knows – or, crucially, thinks they know – what's going on. If the mind thinks it knows the score, it will ensnare itself. [[gathering of scholars]]

[[Havoc]]

Somebody asked her what she meant, because of course they thought seriously about it, and she said yes of course they did, really they knew more about the world over the mountains that almost anybody who lived there, and wouldn't it be of remarkable value if they spent more time actively propagating the knowledge they had gathered? [[knowledge imparts responsibility]]

Ten minds of tremendous depth and ingenuity, yet untouched by cynicism, who believed that they would be able to determine the Right Thing to Do no matter what. [[ten curious]]

If they ventured out into the wider world and used their considerable expertise to actively teach others how they might better their own lives? Really, she said, it would be almost wrong not to. Knowledge imparts responsibility, after all, [[who knows more?]]

She started at a small gathering of scholars, talking about the fascinating works on government one of her guests had written, and positing some ideas about how the demons might conduct their affairs if they were more externally focused – that is, if they started to think seriously about what lay beyond the bounds of their own world. [[we know better]]

and who in the world knows more than we do? [[trap sprung]]

She didn't push the matter any further, but the trap was already sprung ,with ten of the most learned people in the entire world caught fast within it. [[ten minds]]

Ten curious beasts [[fast way down]]

determining the fastest way to get to the bottom of a very high cliff.

twoPaths: true -- [if demonKnowledge] [[This is what you know about|fucked up/evil]] demons. [else] This is what you know about [[demons.|what are demons?]]

[if twoPaths] You know that [[one day, long ago, they fucked up.|they fucked up]] or, You know that [[one day, long ago, they turned to evil|they turned evil]] [[Proceed|how true]] [else] You know that one day, long ago, they fucked up. or, You know that one day, long ago, they turned to evil. [[Proceed|how true]]

You don't how true any of this is. or You believe this with all your heart. [[Proceed|now]]

{reveal link: 'Now:', passage: 'are you a demon'}

Are you a demon? >[[I am|demon route start]] >[[I am not|folk route start]]

config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on raspberry-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-5 on raspberry-2" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "raspberry-1" config.style.page.color: "raspberry-6 on raspberry-1" config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/serif 18" config.style.page.link.color: "raspberry-4" -- Do you carry: [[A rough knapsack|wornTool]] A handsome attache case A trunk as big as you are A carefully-wrapped bundle A heavy and battered book [[Nothing|priestess]] [[back|are you a demon]]

config.style.dark.page.color: "cinnamon-1 on cinnamon-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "cinnamon-2 on cinnamon-5" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "cinnamon-2" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "indigo-1" config.style.page.color: "cinnamon-6 on cinnamon-1" config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/serif 18" config.style.page.link.active.color: "cinnamon-5 on cinnamon-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "indigo-6" -- Are you: Lacking in bedside manner Politic, cautious, and meticulous Solidarity forever [[Bubbly and cloying->shopkeep]] Twitching the curtains A flying shuttle [[back|are you a demon]]

demonPersona: 'wornTool' -- You were put on a train. A ticket to a place called Atwood was pinned to your robe, and you were handed a rough knapsack and a parcel of food. Nobody said anything about your cough. It’s gotten steadily worse. As you sit on the floor of the stifling waiting room in this country junction station, it’s shaking the very windows. You try to muffle it in your sleeve, but it’s no good, and you’re gasping for breath and feeling a horrible wetness claw its way up from your lungs. Your vision blurs- And then clears, and the stern eyes of the (older?) Folk (woman? The Folk have these things called genders, don’t they?) who was sitting in the other corner of the waiting room is staring unblinkingly into yours.\ “That's a serious cough. Did it bring anything up?” she asks you, in heavily-accented Vulgar Demonic.\ You stare for a moment before more-or-less clearing your throat and rasping “I'm fine, I'm sorry for the noise.”\ She snorts.\ “You are not fine, my dear, if I heard a Folk cough like that I'd start calling their relatives to get the funeral planned. Let me see your sleeve.” *Do you seek belonging?* >[[Yes|toolChoice1Yes]] >[[No|toolChoice1No]]

“That’s fifteen.”\ “What, again?”\ “Ten pfennig to me, I think.”\ “How’ve you got fifteen *again?”*\ “Having a good run at this game, eh?”\ “A laugh at my expense, is what you’re having.”\ “Oh, never, never! Can’t afford to make enemies yet, we’re still two hours from Atwood.”\ “You see what they’re doing, don’t you?”\ Nothing.\ “Hey - you, you see what they’re doing, don’t you?”\ Nothing.\ “Oh, let them be, they’ve got better things to-”\ “You! In the corner! I know you can hear me! Look at this. Every time they shuffle, they get fifteen in three hands. I know they’re cheating.”\ “So?”\ “You shuffle for them next time, I’ll prove it.”\ “I’m not good at shuffling.”\ “Good, you won’t cheat, then.”\ “I’m trying to read.”\ “And I’m trying to not go broke.”\ “Stop playing, then.”\ “Well I can’t stop *now*, there’s five marks to win back.”\ “Five marks isn’t *that* much.”\ “It isn’t *nothing!*” You crack one of your eyes open, just enough to survey the other occupants of your compartment in this swift electric train that is reeling off the last miles of your journey. The Folk who’s losing is next to you, the feathered crest on their head standing straight up, the other two are on the seat opposite. The Folk who’s winning has a toothy grin and a tail that hasn’t stopped twitching side to side for the entire journey. Their ears are their biggest tell, but the losing Folk hasn’t figured that out yet. The Folk who’s just trying to read is jammed into a corner, hunched in their oversized coat with the book (you can’t read the title but the characters on the cover don’t seem to know whether to kill or kiss each other) on their lap. They have short, stubby horns and big eyes, and their hooves don’t quite touch the floor. You can smell their discomfort. Your eyes are closed again, and you venture a few words.\ “I can shuffle, if you think it might be more fair.”\ Nothing but the rattle of the train for a few moments. It occurs to you that you hadn’t yet spoken aloud since the journey started. Your seatmate speaks first.\ “Well - now that might just work.”\ “*Blind* justice, eh? Ha!” You open all five of your eyes. You hadn’t done that yet, either. The winning Folk flinches and pins their ears back. The reader is trying not to stare, and your seatmate’s crest is slowly falling as they try to look as small as possible. Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessYes]] >[[No->priestessNo]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepYes]] >[[No->shopkeepNo]]

[[Make another choice->are you a demon]]

config.style.dark.page.color: "orange-1 on orange-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "indigo-6 on indigo-1" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "orange-3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "orange-2" config.style.page.color: "indigo-6 on indigo-1" config.style.page.font: "Iowan Old Style/serif 18" config.style.page.link.active.color: "orange-5 on orange-1" config.style.page.link.color: "indigo-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "orange-4" -- NINE CIRCLES [[START|Start]]

This was met with inital skepticism, but historians have generally arrived at the consensus that it was, in fact, actually very cool, until it wasn't. [[Back|this is cool]]

twoPaths: false -- A ruthless and cunning Princess, who ought never to have become a demon, ensnared the minds of those who had welcomed her into their fold, controlling them and consolidating power. Though they could have stopped her, their curiosity about what she was capable of blinded them to her true purpose. Standing over broken body of one of her tutors, she declared herself to be the True Empress of Hell, and named herself Sen Sakaneo, which in the Demonic tongue means The Circle of Conquest. She turned Hell a from loose collective into a rigid autocracy, and began to invade the lands around it. She began creating armies, both military and industrial, and spoke of the need for demons to exercise dominion over the whole continent. She devised a new language, Imperial Setana, and instigated a kind of cultural revolution, with predictably bloody results. While all this was going on, she began to seek ways of drawing ever more elemental power from the earth, intent on channeling it to make her armies invincible, and herself omnipotent. But the earth is nobody's servant. Pushed too far, it will rebel, and that rebellion will come in the form of flames, smoke, devastation, and death. Like all apocalypses, this will be both localized and survivable, and like all apocalypses, it will leave one question in the minds of those left: [[Is survival a gift?|fucked up/evil]]

twoPaths: false -- A Princess of the Folk, who had traveled to Hell in order to learn to be a wise ruler, was beguiled by her teachers into becoming a demon. Her teachers had ambitions - to turn Hell from a loose collective into a unified nation that could mount an imperial conquest. The pinnacle of this unification was Sen Sakaneo, True Empress of Hell. Whatever was left of the Princess’s soul had been hammered into a blade of avarice, of conquest, and of control. She quickly outpaced even the plans of her former teachers, and soon had the entirety of Hell firmly in her grasp. The old alliances, trade routes, and knowledge exchanges were broken one by one, replaced with raids to the north of Hell, laying waste to the countryside and pushing the Folk who lived there off their lands. Pillars of smoke rose from huge factories churning out weapons and war machines, Sen Sakaneo’s alchemists working night and day to create new horrors both living and inanimate. Even in the far north of the continent, polities began to fear the war that seemed almost inevitable. What little word came from Hell was only of invasion, dominion, subjugation - an entire world in the palm of the Empress’s hand. But instead of war came an earthquake. Instead of invasion came a volcanic eruption on a scale previously unimaginable. It was followed shortly by rumors - the Empress had been cut down by her own guards, she had been undone by her own magic and killed by sheer elemental power, some shred of the Princess’s soul had rebelled and driven her to madness and ruin. [[Who was to say what was true, with everything that came before?|fucked up/evil]]

toolChoice1: 'yes' -- Before you can do anything, the Folk has plucked up the loose fabric (despite being nearly seven feet tall the robe is still hanging off your frame) and examined the wet, viscous stains with a narrowed eye. They are, for the most part, black and thick and shiny as tar. “Not a good sign.” The Folk lets your sleeve fall and meets your gaze again. “How long has it been like this?”\ “I – why?”\ “I'm a doctor. Dr. Sela Anju, actually, I'm sorry I didn't start with that. And I’m she, if that helps.”\ “Oh - I - it's fine, I'm – it's been like this for months. Everybody from the Fourth Circle's like this.” This entire sentence is punctuated with coughing.\ “Tch!” Dr. Anju springs up and goes to root through her luggage. You retrieve your pipe, which had clattered across the floor when you first started coughing, and frown at it before putting it away in your knapsack. Dr. Anju returns with some very clean objects. She squats down in front of you, wiping something off with a strong-smelling fluid before telling you “Open your mouth, please,” and popping it under your tongue before you know what’s happening. You’re a bit bowled over, and this woman seems to be using it to her advantage as she flits around you, pressing something that connects to her ears against your chest and back (“Breath in, deep as you can - good - breathe out, good, now-“) and finally taking whatever it is from under your tongue and frowning at it. “Well – your body temperature would be death for a Folk, but I suppose for you it's all right. Your lungs sound like custard in a drain, though. Were you close to the eruption?”\ You stare at her for a moment, then look away.\ “Only a mile. I got caught in the ash cloud, there . . . there weren't many of us who made it out.”\ “Hmph. It can't have been good for you. It almost seems like you're hemorrhaging.” Dr. Anju straightens up again.\ “What's your name?”\ You hesitate(1).\ “I - ”\ “If you’re still working that out, I’ll call you Friend(2) for the time being.”\ “Oh. Okay.”\ “And where are you going?”\ “They're sending me to a place called Atwood. Wherever that is.”\ “Hm! Shipping you off to the end of the line, there’s planning for you. Do you have a host family when you get there?”\ You shake your head. “There's other refugees but -” you take a moment to cough heavily again “-that was all they told me.”\ “Well that won't do at all.” Dr. Anju puts her tools away and disappears for a little while. You’re exhausted, and you curl up on your side with your knapsack under your head. It’s not worth much as a pillow, but it keeps the weight off your horns. You wish you had a longer tail. You’ve seen other demons curl their tails around themselves when they sleep and it looks . . . Comforting. But you were made for practical things. You’re half-asleep when Dr. Anju returns, bearing a large jug wrapped in wicker. She thunks it down next to you and says “I'll be going to Atwood with you. I know people there and we can get your lungs seen to.” *Do you seek belonging?* >[[Yes|toolChoice2Yes]] >[[No|toolChoice2No]]

toolChoice1: 'no' -- The Folk reaches for your sleeve, and you try to move away. They are undeterred, and you raise your other hand to push them back, but they catch your wrist and hold it, two fingers pressing just below your thumb, eyes boring into yours. You try to pull your hand from their grasp. You can’t. “I’ve dealt with difficult patients before, my dear. And by the feel of your pulse you’re not going to be able to put up much of a fight.” They’re still looking you dead in the eyes and you feel stunned. Before you can do anything, they have plucked up the loose fabric (despite being nearly seven feet tall the robe is still hanging off your frame) and examined the wet, viscous stains with a narrowed eye. They are, for the most part, black and thick and shiny as tar. “Not a good sign.” The Folk lets your sleeve fall and meets your gaze again. “How long has it been like this?”\ “I – why?”\ “I'm a doctor. Dr. Sela Anju, actually, I'm sorry I didn't start with that. And I’m she, if that helps.”\ “Oh - I - it's fine, I'm – it's been like this for months. Everybody from the Fourth Circle's like this.” This entire sentence is punctuated with coughing.\ “Tch!” Dr. Anju springs up and goes to root through her luggage. You retrieve your pipe, which had clattered across the floor when you first started coughing, and frown at it before putting it away in your knapsack. Dr. Anju returns with some very clean objects. She squats down in front of you, wiping something off with a strong-smelling fluid before telling you “Open your mouth, please,” and popping it under your tongue before you know what’s happening. You’re a bit bowled over, and this woman seems to be using it to her advantage as she flits around you, pressing something that connects to her ears against your chest and back (“Breath in, deep as you can - good - breathe out, good, now-“) and finally taking whatever it is from under your tongue and frowning at it. “Well – your body temperature would be death for a Folk, but I suppose for you it's all right. Your lungs sound like custard in a drain, though. Were you close to the eruption?”\ You stare at her for a moment, then look away.\ “Only a mile. I got caught in the ash cloud, there . . . there weren't many of us who made it out.”\ “Hmph. It can't have been good for you. It almost seems like you're hemorrhaging.” Dr. Anju straightens up again.\ “What's your name?”\ You hesitate(1).\ “I - ”\ “If you’re still working that out, I’ll call you Friend(2) for the time being.”\ “Oh. Okay.”\ “And where are you going?”\ “They're sending me to a place called Atwood. Wherever that is.”\ “Hm! Shipping you off to the end of the line, there’s planning for you. Do you have a host family when you get there?”\ You shake your head. “There's other refugees but -” you take a moment to cough heavily again “-that was all they told me.”\ “Well that won't do at all.” Dr. Anju puts her tools away and disappears for a little while. You’re exhausted, and you curl up on your side with your knapsack under your head. It’s not worth much as a pillow, but it keeps the weight off your horns. You wish you had a longer tail. You’ve seen other demons curl their tails around themselves when they sleep and it looks . . . Comforting. But you were made for practical things. You’re half-asleep when Dr. Anju returns, bearing a large jug wrapped in wicker. She thunks it down next to you and says “I'll be going to Atwood with you. I know people there and we can get your lungs seen to.” *Do you seek belonging?* >[[Yes|toolChoice2Yes]] >[[No|toolChoice2No]]

{embed passage: toolChoice1 + toolChoice2 + demonPersona} [[*Make a new choice.*|are you a demon]] [[Footnotes|wornToolFootnotes]]

“Cared for” is not a feeling that you’re that familiar with. And yet here you are. “Hopeful” is not a feeling that you’re familiar with. And yet a little something is forming in your mind, a bright little something. You’re going to reach the end of the journey - well - no, you’re going to reach the end of this *part* of the journey, and then - and then - the future will happen. And at least one person will care about you. You’re peacefully asleep even before the train reaches the next stop.

Have you ever been given a choice? A real choice? You were not made to be one who chooses. You were made to be a piece of industrial equipment, and even when you’ve been handled and moved as carefully as the machines you were intended to integrate with, it’s never felt like you actually *asked* for that. And now you’re in a compartment on a train with a doctor, once again being handled and moved, once again being shipped somewhere new. And when you arrive, you’ll be handled and moved some more, and - Huh. And somebody will care about your cough and you won’t be alone. That might be different. You’re still exhausted. You’re asleep before the train even reaches the next stop.

This wasn’t a journey you were all that keen to see the end of - the guards of the trains you’d been on so far had politely treated you like furniture, and it was a significant relief after being looked at with pity for so long. Dr. Anju doesn’t look at you with pity, and you feel as though you should enjoy that more than you do. But at least the end of the line doesn’t seem quite so terminal, now. You’re asleep even before the train reaches the next stop.

toolChoice2: 'yes' -- You don’t get up, but you do look at her. You breathe raspily for a moment before saying “Okay” and another moment before saying “Thank you.” Something softens around her eyes. “I’m a doctor, Friend. Even if I hadn’t trained in the Seventh Circle back in the old days, I’ve got a duty to care for all others. And if there’s more like you in this bad of shape, then I’m going to do what I can for all of them.” “Oh,” is all you can manage. Someone in a blue coat and peaked cap steps into the waiting room to say “Train's due in fifteen minutes – going to Atwood?”\ Dr. Anju nods.\ “Everything's running on time today, so you should be there early tomorrow.”\ “Good. There's a dining car, I hope?”\ The blue coat shrugs at the doctor.\ “They've got a trolley, it’s mostly pies, but you shouldn't go hungry.” When the train finally leaves, with a snort and a jolt almost and rough as your cough, Dr. Anju has brought you into a compartment. She’s settled herself on one of the seats - she’s small enough to lay down flat - and you’ve settled on the floor, cross-legged, facing towards the corridor with a cushion the doctor produced from her luggage behind your back. You had insisted that you’d never fit in a compartment, and anyway riding in the guard’s van had been fine until now, but there’s something about the way she looks at you that quells arguments as quickly as you raise them. As the endless fields and telegraph poles go by, and you get used to the gentle swaying of the carriage, you find that the large wicker-wrapped jug has been thrust into your lap. “You'll want to drink that,” says Dr. Anju. “Not too quickly, but it'll help you sleep if you can finish it. And I don't doubt you're dehydrated anyhow.”\ You frown.\ “What's in it?”\ “Chamomile, among other things. I found an apothecary and had them brew it up. Once we're in Atwood I can get you something stronger, but for now you should rest. You sniff at the jug and stick out your tongue - it’s pungent and herbal and strange. But orders are orders, and you take a careful swig. It’s not so bad. You take another, deeper, draft. Not so bad at all, really. [[You set the jug aside, fold your arms, and close your eyes.|wornToolEnd]]

toolChoice2: 'no' -- You don’t get up, but you do look at her. You breathe raspily for a moment before saying “You don't have to.” She snorts again. “Hm! I spent five years training in the Seventh Circle and practiced for ten in the First before that so-called Empress showed up. And even if that wasn't the case, I'm still a doctor, and if there's more like you in this bad of shape, then it's my duty to do what I can for you.” “Oh,” is all you can manage. Someone in a blue coat and peaked cap steps into the waiting room to say “Train's due in fifteen minutes – going to Atwood?”\ Dr. Anju nods.\ “Everything's running on time today, so you should be there early tomorrow.”\ “Good. There's a dining car, I hope?”\ The blue coat shrugs at the doctor.\ “They've got a trolley, it’s mostly pies, but you shouldn't go hungry.” When the train finally leaves, with a snort and a jolt almost and rough as your cough, Dr. Anju has brought you into a compartment. She’s settled herself on one of the seats - she’s small enough to lay down flat - and you’ve settled on the floor, cross-legged, facing towards the corridor with a cushion the doctor produced from her luggage behind your back. You had insisted that you’d never fit in a compartment, and anyway riding in the guard’s van had been fine until now, but there’s something about the way she looks at you that quells arguments as quickly as you raise them. As the endless fields and telegraph poles go by, and you get used to the gentle swaying of the carriage, you find that the large wicker-wrapped jug has been thrust into your lap. “You'll want to drink that,” says Dr. Anju. “Not too quickly, but it'll help you sleep if you can finish it. And I don't doubt you're dehydrated anyhow.”\ You frown.\ “What's in it?”\ “Chamomile, among other things. I found an apothecary and had them brew it up. Once we're in Atwood I can get you something stronger, but for now you should rest. You sniff at the jug and stick out your tongue - it’s pungent and herbal and strange. But orders are orders, and you take a careful swig. It’s not so bad. You take another, deeper, draft. Not so bad at all, really. [[You set the jug aside, fold your arms, and close your eyes.|wornToolEnd]]

You have a traveling companion. You’re not sure how much say you had in that but find that there’s a bright little something building in the back of your mind. You’re going to reach the end of the journey - *or, at least, this part of the journey*, and you won’t reach it alone. Which is not such a bad thing. Not such a bad thing, at all, really. You feel something you might dare to call hope. You’re comfortably asleep before the train even reaches the next stop.

1.\ The naming of demons is quite a complex matter, the details of which can and have filled several books (most notably *Llanilly's Comprehensive Guide to Demonic Nomenclature, 12th Edition, with Appendices on Contemporary Usage*). It is not uncommon for individual demons to have parentage and be given a name by those same parents (in the sense that Folk might understand it), but for those that are spawned or hatched or smelted, naming is much more perfunctory. Having a name comes in useful so you have a *designation*, and it is not so much an identity as it is a way to avoid saying “Hey you, no not you, no not you either” twenty times a day. Kozhna Aden was hatched in Sen Sinella and named after the tier her nest occupied and the hour and month of her birth. She was the first of five from the nest, her younger nest mates being christened as Nathna Eden, Llena Eden, Akana Eden, and Nodna Eden. She was not, at that time, *she*. It would be two centuries yet before demons would be bothered with such a thing as gender, and for those two centuries she and all the other inhabitants of the demon lands would simply use the pronoun *kine*. Kine chose to stay in Sen Sinella (which was known to outside scholars as the Second Circle, or the Circle of War), in which martial arts of every description were tried and tested, great strategic minds were honed, and war games of breathtaking scope were played out. Kozhna Aden studied the blade and became, over the decades, one of the greatest sword fighters Hell had ever known. The blacksmith Eth Aka was wrenched from a smelting pit and given the equivalent of the name “fifty-seven”, as well as the pronoun “he” and the assignment to make metal into things until he was either dead or they found a better use for him elsewhere. This was in the wretched age of Sen Sakaneo, True Empress of Hell, where blacksmiths were all made as men, and men were all quite cheap. *** 2.\ The word Dr. Anju uses is *neosha*, which is usually translated as "friend", but what it really conveys is "they are not from our nest, but we love them as though they are". It was little-used in the years of the Empress. [[Return|wornToolEnd]]

The creatures that inhabit the continent - a varied lot, some with fur, some with scales, some with feathers, all with tails. Outside observers might describe them as "humanoid, with animal attributes (Twoflower et. al., 117)", and they might describe each other as [["quite ordinary, really".|caldera]]

You hold out your hand for the cards. You don’t have to wait for them to be placed in it. [shuffles, plays cards, asks questions] [looks at the Folk (name, he/him) who was almost certainly cheating more than the others] [get enthralled, idiot] Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessYesYes]] >[[No->priestessYesNo]]

You let them all stew for a moment before closing your eyes and resuming your aloof posture. You’ve had the intended effect. This squabble is none of your concern, and these two are very poor material. [let some time pass] [they start playing cards again] [start sneaking looks at the Reader (name, he/him) - potentially a tasty little fish, potentially a useful little thing] [speak to the Reader alone - express an interest in their book, try and ease their discomfort] Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessNoYes]] >[[No->priestessNoNo]]

It’s not long in conversation with the Reader that you decide he’s not worth your time. Cowering, shivering little thing. You are almost moved to pity, but you settle for polite interest. If nothing else he’ll help pass the time in conversation. The other two are still playing, and the Folk with the crest is still losing. Silly creatures. [end of the line, on the platform. Where to, now?] [you see a fellow demon, who looks much the worst for ware, sitting on a bench looking at the ground. Wretched doesn’t begin to describe them, but they’re your own kind, and despite yourself you’re glad to see them] Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessNoNoYes]] >[[No->priestessNoNoNo]]

Well - he’s not much, but he’s a start. The other two are hardly worth bothering with. You can get a long way with a card sharp. [at the end of the line, on the platform, you see a nice-looking bar, and in a moment of inspiration, you say with the card sharp’s borrowed tongue “listen - no hard feelings, let me buy you both a nice drink, eh? Best thing after being bounced around in a train for hours.”] [you enter the bar - the other two Folk have grudgingly accepted. Well, never mind them, they’ll leave as soon as they can. Lots of other little fish to try and catch] Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessYesNoYes]] >[[No->priestessYesNoNo]]

Well - that’s one. He might not be much, but he’s a start. The other two Folk in your compartment seem to react to him strongly - you can use this. [you can ensnare the one with the crest easily - he’s a little too easily obsessed. That’s two] [you try for the Reader as well - more resistance here] Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessYesYesYes]] >[[No->priestessYesYesNo]]

Oooh he’s delicious. You’re the first person all day who’s talked to him without seeming to want something other than to know him. You’re in the folds of his brain before he even realizes how long you’ve been looking at him with every eye. [end of the line, standing on the platform with the Reader] [as fun as it was, now you’re here and you’re not sure what to do with him] Do you seek belonging? >[[Yes->priestessNoYesYes]] >[[No->priestessNoYesNo]]

[the two other Folk from the train leave the bar as soon as it’s polite, but the card sharp is working the crowd and even though you’re not talking to anybody, you can feel an increasing number of people looking your way. Good .::)] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[the two other folk leave as soon as it’s polite, but you and your card sharp linger. Every other eye in the place seems to slide off you in your corner booth, as you slowly unravel him] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[you’re in Atwood and two of the folk follow you without realizing it. The Reader watches this unintentional procession with suspicion. Perhaps you will need to deal with him later.] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[Since this is the reader’s home city, you ask if he can recommend a place to say, perhaps show a stranger the lay of the land? He nods. He’s led you to his home before he even knows what he’s doing.] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[You approach the demon and say “have you been left behind, neosha?” They stare at you. “I’m traveling with someone,” says the demon “But I don’t know where to go next. She’s trying to figure out where we’re being kept.” Pathetic. Dependent. Not worth your time. You walk away. They will come to you, in time, and in time, they may be useful. But you have no need for such poor material. Alone once again, you vanish into the gathering darkness.] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[You approach the demon and say “have you been left behind, neosha?” They stare at you, but you open three of your eyes and pour comfort and trust into theirs. “I’m traveling with someone,” says the demon “But I don’t know where to go next. She’s trying to figure out where we’re being kept.” Ah yes, you had heard there would be others. And if this poor creature before you is any indication, they will be in need of so many things. One of those things will be you .::)] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[Some fish you simply have to let go. You break your hold on the Reader as soon as you’ve left the station, stopping to one side of the moving crowd and letting him be swept along with it. He doesn’t look back, and you’re glad of that.] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

[you’re in Atwood and the Folk are following you without realizing it. Three little lights trailing in your wake. Nothing like the blazing brightness you could command before, but a bonfire starts with sparks. There is much work to do.] [[Make another choice.->are you a demon]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepYesYes]] >[[No->shopkeepYesNo]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepNoYes]] >[[No->shopkeepNoNo]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepYesNoYes]] >[[No->shopkeepYesNoNo]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepYesYesYes]] >[[No->shopkeepYesYesNo]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepNoYesYes]] >[[No->shopkeepNoYesNo]]

[[Make another choice->are you a demon]]

>[[Yes->shopkeepNoNoYes]] >[[No->shopkeepNoNoNo]]